We awoke to a river that had climbed four feet higher up the bank and changed from crystal clear to opaque brown and suspiciously full of debris. A cluster of ducks swept by looking mildly perturbed by their cruising speed, their tiny feet making no headway against the current. We hung our gear up to dry (again) and decided it might be a good idea to zero instead of setting out in flood waters toting full trees.
We hiked a few miles into the town of East Branch only to discover that they had no library and that nobody in town knew where the closest one was. We hitched a ride halfway to Hancock to a riverside hotel that someone thought might have wifi (it was closed) and then decided to walk the rest of the way to Hancock to get beer and maybe retrieve the car.
We passed a church with a signboard outside proclaiming that life had a “100% Chance of Death”; figuring that was the closest we’d come to an omen we went inside to see if they’d take pity on us and give us a lift the last six or seven miles. Pastor Bob and GB the church dog found us entertaining enough to kindly shuttle us straight to the Hancock public library.
For the record, public libraries are an underappreciated godsend. Free internet! Bathrooms! Maps! People who know useful things about the local geography and amenities!
We swung by the grocery store (and the liquor store) then hiked out to the car to drive ourselves back to the pavilion outside East Branch for a night of glamping. We used the car to further shelter the tent and canoe from the increasing winds, then settled down for the evening with a twelve pack of Yuengling for a very boozy few rounds of “go fish”.
The long day of walking should have wiped us out, but neither of us got much sleep with the local emergency sirens going off all night due to the tornado warning. Fortunately the winds didn’t get too extreme, and we never felt like there was a real chance of the tent flying away with us in it. Oz wouldn’t have known what to do with us, anyways.