Under the brim, his eyes scan the ripples for submerged rocks, his ears tuned for that distinctive gurgle. He spots an eddy on the far side of the current, jabs the pole at the rocky bottom and begins to ferry across, facing downstream. Knees bent, he sticks the pole into the eddy and it pulls him around. Looking over his shoulder, he sees the others are way ahead, curiosity pulling them around the next corner. Hal is satisfied to play in the current.
The open can of Budweiser, more of a challenge than anything, still sits atop his wanigan as he leans on the pole and powers out of the eddy. He leans over the gunwale on his pole and lets the momentum and the current spin him around and he heads downstream once again.
They started in Franklin, NH. Route 3 north to the first traffic light, turn right over the bridge, first right again and follow the river a short distance past the buildings and there is a nice put-in. The Merrimack, from Franklin to Penacook, is about 15 miles to one take-out, at the mouth of the Contoocook River. It starts with mild rapids, and is mostly smooth current after that. Further, there is a short Class II, then Sewall's Falls boat ramp, which also makes a good take out. In summer months, the river is crowded with motorboats and rental canoes, but March is usually pretty low-key (duh!). There is probably a stretch of river like this within a half hour drive of anywhere in New England, but this one's close to Scooter's house, so they paddle it a lot.
The river is bank-full, and the four solo-paddlers are making good time. They stop, build a small fire at lunch and sample some of Scooter's latest food drier experiments. This time, crispy apple slices and heavily spiced jerky. This is when Hal discovers that his bag of food never made it into the boat. "Not to worry, Hal!" says Scooter, "I brought a four pound meatloaf and two loaves of bread dough for supper." Indeed, there was so much food on the trip, they could have made it to the sea.
They cover 12 or 13 miles that day, and darkness sets in as they make camp. Bob, now famous for his prodigious fires, set to work immediately getting a good blaze going in the snow. Soon, the tents are up, the canoes are stowed and supper is cooking. The meatloaf, still frozen, is in the dutch oven, coals on the lid. Two loaves of bread dough, also still partly frozen, are into the reflector oven, with a piece of foil over them. An hour later, the cooler is a lot lighter and the meatloaf is done. Scooter unveils two golden brown loaves of bread, albeit a little flatter than usual.
It is midnight, and the clouds part for the first time in days, revealing a half moon on the rise, illuminating the landscape as Scooter and Hal listen to the sounds of night and quietly discussed future paddling trips. The others were already snoring away, and it seemed like sleep might be a good idea. Soon after, the coyotes were enjoying the moonlight and were out in full chorus. In the last remaining pre-dawn hours of darkness, they make a kill, as evidenced by their sudden and wild yipping, barking and howling.
Dawn arrives, and it is the turn of the Canadian geese to make their racket. They are on their way north and populate the river in the hundreds, honking, squawking, and making splash landings out front. Hal looks at his watch: 6:30. He dozes fitfully for an eternity. He looks at his watch, and five minutes have passed. "OK, OK!" He says to himself, and crawls out of the sack and into the frosty morning air. He is greeted by a full pot of coffee, just finished brewing, on Brother Dick's brand new Coleman. There might be better days, but they're few in number.