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Streaming Relationships
- University of Iowa Press
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{ 1 4 5 } Pam and I approached Carthagina Island with the lofty twin spans of i-293 looming beyond it. At two thousand feet long, the island was narrow and thick with trees, especially tall pines and oaks. Thoreau called it “the fairest which we had met with, with a handsome grove of elms at its head.” Admitting that “an island always pleases my imagination ,” he would have camped had it been evening. Though the elms are long gone, it was comforting to see the island little changed since the brothers passed its “densely wooded” shore. I, too, would have camped had the hour been right. On a big rock near the island’s tip, McPhee observed a large, imperturbable , and satisfied bald eagle that “looked lazy, fat, accomplished, interested mainly in its investments.” Whether his description of “the icon American bird” as a phlegmatic plutocrat was social commentary on the decline of a once industrious Merrimack or the nation generally , I couldn’t discern. The remark struck me as perversely Thoreauvian , perhaps with a dollop of caustic Mungo thrown in. Pleased as we were by our conquest of the Amoskeag rapids, the i-293 bridges were no triumphal arch for us. As we passed beneath them we worried about Short’s Falls just downstream. With boiling whitewater drowning the sound of the interstate highway above us, we knew we were in for heavy paddling. The sky once again threatened rain as we hauled out the boat and scouted the rapids from the stone outcrops above. Walking slowly Streaming Relationships THE TREMONT THEATER has been open for a week and the audiences, we believe, have been satisfied. Boston Courier, September 9, 1839 Pat Nixon Booed Manchester Union Leader, September 11, 1969 Murder conviction tossed out Lowell Sun, September 9, 2003 1 4 6 m a i n s t e m through thick brush on uneven ground, we watched as the noisy water churned and eddied around rocks and ledges in multiple directions before rolling into white, curling manes. McPhee called this drop of seven feet in eleven yards “the whitest water avoided by the Union Canal.” Traveling upstream, he and Mark Svenvold lined their boat through quieter water along the shore and then dragged it over the ledges, sometimes wading chest deep as they held onto the gunwales. Thoreau and his brother took the canal. “Are you sure we can do this?” Pam fretted as we stood on the angled gray rock, surveying the tumbling water. “No problem,” I said, squeezing her hand and projecting more confidence than I felt. Deftly moving in the loud, sudden chaos of tricky rapids was intuitive for an experienced paddler, but even the most cautious novice could easily get confused and make a mistake the river wouldn’t forgive. “Don’t be so nervous,” I smiled. “You asked the same thing at the Amoskeag Dam and did fine.” She shook her head in agreement and forced a return smile. Still, I wondered whether she realized how much more difficult it would be running these rips. There were patterns in the flow, ways to sluice among the rocks and avoid the shallows, but it wasn’t going to be easy. “Remember, I’ll be aiming us where we need to go. Just keep the boat from pinballing off the rocks and help get us into the right chute.” “I guess.” “Just follow the flow. The river will show the way.” I pointed out curlers that hid rocks and those that were just standing waves. “We want to hit that big water at the end with our bow on the upswing,” I advised . “Otherwise we’ll get soaked.” As the sky darkened, I gave her a bear hug and a hard, deep kiss on the mouth that sent a current of warmth through my body. Still, we walked back to the boat more somberly than warranted. I knew she was strong and had reflexes quick enough to get us through. We had no choice but to rely on each other. “You’re sure we don’t need to portage this?” Pam asked, turning toward me, her voice tense and her face a little drawn as we pushed off from shore. [3.238.228.237] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 12:37 GMT) s t r e a m i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p s 1 4 7 “Too late now,” I replied with a wide...