A Note to the Reader It’s early June. After months of preparation, and after surviving their shake-down trip, Ed and Brenna are beginning their Trip of a Lifetime. With friends Pete and Karin Neary, they’re heading for the Albany River. Their goal? Fort Albany on James Bay—and then on to Moosonee. But no river trip ever goes exactly according to plan, does it?

 
Our story continues…

 
Chapter Nineteen

 
Brenna swayed from side to side as the train clacked through a landscape of spruce-fir forest, bogs, and streams. A gray drizzle misted the window to her right. Brenna stared out, hoping to see a moose emerge from the murk alongside the track. None did, but a smile played over Brenna’s face nonetheless. After so many years, they were headed back up North. At last!

Beside her, Ed turned the pages of a tiny, hardbound copy of King Lear, occasionally reading a favorite passage aloud to Brenna, his voice never rising above a hoarse whisper.

Pete and Karin sat just ahead of them. Even further forward in the car, a boisterous party of fishermen were deep in a discussion of lines and leaders, while a couple of college students going off to summer jobs in a lodge chattered away about exams. Elsewhere, men and women dressed in work-clothes talked, ate, or dozed. A few were white-skinned. Many more were dark. But each had the unmistakable air of someone going home.

Karin crooked her arm over the seat-back and turned around, fixing Brenna with a bleary gaze. “Gawd,” she said, “the trip from Cochrane takes forever, doesn’t it?” She stopped suddenly, as her face was split by a yawn. Brenna found that she couldn’t help herself, and she yawned, too. Karin smiled in apology. “Sorry about that. We haven’t had much sleep in the last week.”

“I know what you mean,” Brenna replied, checking the impulse to yawn again. A chill wind seemed to be playing up her spine. She folded her arms across her breast and hunched deeper into her heavy wool turtleneck. “I hope Jack and Molly’ll be OK,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Ed tore himself away from Lear.”No problem,” he said, giving Brenna a reassuring grin. “They’ll be fine. Jack already knows the book trade better than we do, and Molly’ll keep them both well fed!”

Brenna nodded in agreement. She was thinking about the enormous meal Molly had put together on the night before they left for the drive north—roast leg of lamb and two lemon meringue pies. She shook her head. They weren’t even on the river yet, and she was already thinking about “sivilized” food!

“I wonder what it’s like to be an eighty-something newlywed?” Karin mused, shooting a look at her husband, who’d had his wavy brown hair cut short for the trip. A hitherto-concealed bald spot was now plainly evident. Karin studied Pete’s features as if he were a stranger, lingering long over his sagging chin. Then she sighed. “I’m not sure I’d find marriage all that attractive if I was…you know…that old.”

Fortunately, Pete didn’t hear his wife. He was listening to a robust, no-nonsense Cree woman who occupied the seat across the aisle from him. She wore a faded Carhartt jacket, and she perched sideways on her seat, leaning across the gap between them, while she explained how to gut and butcher a moose. From time to time, she brushed long black bangs away from her eyes and tucked her shoulder-length hair back behind her ears, but her words continued without interruption. She spoke with an eagerness and intensity that commanded attention, and Pete followed her detailed description with horrified fascination.

Brenna looked questioningly at Karin and shrugged her shoulders. “Old or not, our newlyweds seem mighty pleased with the idea. That’s the important thing, isn’t it? Sure it is!” And she thought of all the help that Molly and Jack had given them during the last few chaotic weeks: repacking food, getting the geriatric F-150 ready for the long drive to Cochrane, and repairing worn and damaged items of gear. They certainly seemed cheerful enough. As happy as…well…newlyweds. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check in with them when they got to Fort Hope. Just to make sure that everything was OK.

Brenna’s thoughts were interrupted by a burst of laughter. The Cree woman was still talking to Pete. “No kidding!” she said, brushing her bangs back by way of emphasis. “We always give the eyeballs to the kids. They’re real good, you know. The kid’s love ‘em. Real salty.” Pete’s face was looking distinctly pale under his tan, and his adam’s apple bobbed convulsively.… Read more…

 
Hooked? A new chapter in our serial adventure novel, Trip of a Lifetime, will appear every Sunday. If you’ve missed a chapter, or if you’re coming aboard for the first time and want to catch up, just use the hot-linked title to go to the archives.

 
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A REMINDER This is a work of fiction. All the characters are figments of the imaginations. It’s NOT a paddling guide. If you’re planning a trip on the Albany River—or any other body of water, come to that—consult the most recent edition of a good guidebook and be sure you’re thoroughly familiar with all applicable regulations. While maps of Ontario show some of the waterways mentioned here, the places depicted in our story exist only in our minds—and in yours.

 
Tired of having your bike’s kickstand sink into sand or shift in gravel? Here’s an easy solution, one that weighs very little and costs absolutely nothing—a jar lid. You’ll need a stout metal lid, and a wide one works better than a narrow one. The principle is simple. A broad, solid base prevents the kickstand leg from boring into soft sediments, and it offers a stable base on shifty material like loose gravel. Just put the lid on the ground with the top side down, and place the kickstand foot in the lid. Here’s mine in use:

 
The lid is recycled from a jar of salsa, and the lid’s interior coating has been scratched with use, but so what? Before leaving the parked bike, be sure that the jar lid-kickstand support is solidly placed and that the kickstand won’t shift. Sometimes it’s necessary to try more than one spot before you get it right. Once the lid and bike settle, though, this kickstand support will keep your bike on the up-and-up. When the lid wears through or is badly deformed from use, put it in the recycling bin and choose a new used jar lid. Will this work with dual-legged kickstand? Maybe. I’ve not tried it, but imagine you would need two jar lids, one for each foot. But with a single-legged kickstand it works well. And it’s no burden to find room for this kickstand support in your kit. I slip mine in the map slot in my handlebar bag:

 
If you don’t use a ‘bar bag, carry it with your puncture repair kit and tools (you do carry these things, don’t you?). Or slip it into your jersey or jacket pocket. With the kickstand support along, you know that you can turn your back with confidence on a bike that’s solidly parked.

 
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While taking a walk along an old rail line, Tony Jancek was struck by how this abandoned telephone pole was being reclaimed by nature. As the leaves emerge in spring, the grape vines will be a haven for nesting birds, and in autumn the grapes will be prized by wildlife. Regular readers will remember Tony because he covered the Tour of the Battenkill bicycle race for Outside Up North. When he’s not seeking a dramatic angle in bike races, he’s capturing what goes on around him in the natural world. We’ll be publishing other photos by this talented photographer in the future. If you like his photos as much as we do, send him an email and tell him so.

 
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