A Note to the Reader Last time, after days of hard traveling, Pete Neary unexpectedly found himself between a rock and a hard place. Has time run out for Pete?

 
Our story continues…

 
Chapter Twenty-Two

 
Ed stumbled along the shore, slipping on rain-slick cobbles. Water beaded on his glasses, turning the sodden landscape into an impressionist painting. He wiped the back of his hand across the lenses, but that only made matters worse. The dancing points of light and color were now replaced by a greasy blur. Still, he could see enough. And he didn’t like what he saw

Karin Neary was crawling slowly up the rocky shore, her soaked clothing weighing her already-exhausted body down. And there was no sign of Pete. His head had disappeared below the water’s surface. Only the Neary’s big, green Explorer was visible, pinned against a mid-stream boulder. With each surge in the current, the boat tugged at its only remaining link to land—the drum-tight bow painter that Pete had tied off to a riverbank spruce just before he jumped in the water. Looking far downriver, Ed could see occasional splashes of color that he knew to be the Neary’s packs.

But there was still no sign of Pete. Ed guessed that he lay under the heaving, gray-green pillow of water near the bow of the pinned canoe, trapped between the boat and the painter.

Then Ed saw something break the surface. Pete’s head! His arms flailed out in all directions as he struggled to hold his mouth above the pummeling water. He gasped involuntarily, gagged, and gasped again. His empty, probing hands found the boulder. He clawed at the rock, tearing his nails to the quick as he tried to gouge a purchase in unyielding granite. But the cold water had already taken its toll. Pete weakened. His hands relaxed, and his head yielded again to the smothering pillow. Water, rock, and rope held him fast.… 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.

 
With Father’s Day just around the corner, it’s moving to see the devotion hairy woodpecker fathers show to their children. I’m privileged to have witnessed the development of the youngsters and the caretaking skills of their parents. Here Dad is giving Junior more to eat:

 
Junior explores while waiting for his father to bring more to eat. His bill is shorter and his red crest is grizzled, but he’s up to a few hearty taps on the bark, and even spies an ant:

 
He got the ant, all on his own:

 
Woodpeckers have very long tongues, and like hummingbirds, will lick insects off the bark. The ladies had to get in on the action and soon showed up for their own meals. A mother feeds her daughter in this shot (Mom is on the left):

 
The young female is alert for any free lunches she can get on her own, too:

 
Birds are delightful to watch. Their beauty, grace, and devotion to their offspring never fail to send my mind on flights of fancy, and I never lose interest in photographing them.

 
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This year has been very wet, and if I only went outside in fine weather, I wouldn’t get out very often. I don’t mind riding my bike in the rain if I must, but unless I’m touring, I often have a choice about whether or not to hit the road, and I prefer not to if possible. Drivers can’t see as well when it’s raining and the roads are fogged by mist they kick up with their wheels. And the bike requires a thorough cleaning after such rides, which is time-consuming and easy to put off because of that. So when it’s wet and I want to get out, I like to hike.

Fortunately for me, I like hiking in light rain and drizzle, in what novelist Tony Hillerman calls “female rain.” The air is fresh and sweet, wildlife is active, insects are often immobilized, and the trails are empty of revelers. Best of all, a wet landscape offers plenty of beautiful scenes which cry out to be photographed. Some are subtle, others spectacular. Here are a few from my latest rainy day hike.

 
Chinks had begun to form in the otherwise uniform overcast sky, and the sun tried to peek through, highlighting the large droplets which dripped from the leaves:

 
Everywhere there were water droplets sparkling like jewels on leaves, on grass, and on flowers. Here are droplets like cabochons on aspen leaves:

 
Here they are up close:

 
In a brief heavier shower I took shelter under overhanging oak limbs which drooped under the weight of the water on their leaves.

 
I wasn’t the only one to find shelter under the taller trees. This inchworm found a resting place on a gray birch leaf:

 
The nearby maples have already been discovered by leaf-eating insects, even though they’ve been fully emerged for only a few weeks:

 
The clouds thinned to the south while the shower continued overhead, giving me this shot:

 
The showers passed and I continued down the trail. The recent rain had brightened the green hues on the tender new tips of this hemlock:

 
Wild strawberries are ripening. No larger than the tip of my pinkie finger, these delicious fruits are much loved by birds, grouse, and small mammals.

 
The green landscape is punctuated by the bright yellow of goatsbeard blooms:

 
Goatsbeard are interesting flowers. Their blooms open early in the morning but close by midday—except on gloomy days. Here’s a closer view:

 
No doubt but that the day would continue moody. The clouds thickened again as I approached the end of my hike:

 
But the impending rain didn’t discourage another hiker on the trail:

 
A long shot for my telephoto lens, and grainy because of that, but it’s still possible to see the fox’s mottled red and black coat and his busy tail. He scooted away when he saw me, no doubt heading for one of the burrows dug out of the sandy ridge off to the left and out of sight.

 
It was time for me to get off the trail, too, but I’ll be visiting again often, and I won’t let the rain keep me away. If you’d like to enjoy rainy hikes without getting wet, just visit our new Outside Up North Photo Gallery Enjoy!

 
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