We slept in again, because sleeping bags are warm and the rest of the world is not.
Fortunately the weather had cleared a little by the time we set out, and we were treated to a few glimpses of sun tucked between intermittent sprinkles of rain. The paddling itself was much easier today since the river is slowly getting wider and deeper, but this meant that when we had to portage it was because of something ugly. The times we got out of the boat were for huge piles of downed trees packed full of debris from the flooding and often meant dragging the boat several hundred yards through stinging nettles, brambles, and nests of broken beaver dams.
We cruised through the towns of Delhi and Bloomville and a few other nameless hamlets and camped just above Walton for the night on a beautiful grassy floodplain dotted with hardwoods. This was the first full day of paddling we’d managed in a while between the weather and the river conditions. This was also the first day in a while that we hadn’t crawled into the tent half frozen and soaking wet. Small victories!
Discussing our various wildlife sightings over dinner, we realized that when confronted with a split in the river where an obvious “right choice” wasn’t evident, always follow the ducks. Ducks bob along with wherever the majority of the current is headed, and don’t seem to like scary rapids or hidden obstacles any more than our canoe. They haven’t led us wrong yet. Plus they’re cute, and they don’t hiss at us.
Geese, on the other hand, are still hell-bent on leading us to our doom at every given opportunity. NEVER follow the geese.
