“Look at the waves around that point” I holler, referring to the jut of land we would have to paddle out around.  “I don’t want to do that.” I yell adamantly.  Waves have been routinely breaking over our bow.  The waves at the point are even more menacing.

“Neither do I” Tom hollers back. 

Once again, we disembark onto the rocky embankment, as that’s all there is for shoreline.  This one is steeper than our last stop.  The merciless waves beat our poor boat against the rip rap again and again.  Tom tries to hold it at bay while he unclips the gear and swings it back to me.  I grab each pack, heave it onto my back and clamber up a few feet to wedge each behind a sturdy rock.  I make trip after grueling trip miraculously without twisting my ankle.  On my last trip I grab the bow of the now empty canoe while Tom man-handles the stern and we stumble up the rip rap to clunk her down behind a log that is well  out of the water and stable enough to secure her to it.  

The wind is incessant!  The question is: Now what? Here we sit on a hill of boulders.  One thing is plain – we can’t be out on the river anymore.  Therefore, we’ve got to hike, no matter how far, to find a place to stay.