Ghosts of Manitowish Waters by G.M. Moore

Author:G.M. Moore [Moore, G.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-09-18T23:00:00+00:00

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Hours later a pinkish glow began to filter into the blue sky above. Finally, Cain sighed. He was happy to see the sun lowering, signaling the end to a very long day. Within a few hours it would drop behind the ridge walls surrounding this section of the Chippewa River, silhouetting them in an orange glow. And then we will call it a day, he thought wearily. Cain knew Tess was tired. He was too. The river had been so easy to navigate with very little obstructing their progress that Cain had been encouraged, falsely assuming they could paddle all the way up to Glidden—and maybe even farther north. But that was before the river turned on them. They had made it effortlessly through Blaisdell Lake to what a fisherman had told them was Sturgeon Bay. Then the Chippewa River decided to test them and their canoeing skills. It turned swampy and narrow, with some parts less than fifteen-feet wide. It became filled with riffles too shallow and rough to navigate, forcing them to get out and carry the canoe. Deadfall from tiny, tree-filled islands blocked their progress as the river snaked around them.

Despite the bushwhacking and the walking, Cain was very glad they had taken Mooney’s canoe and used the river. He figured they had covered close to 20 miles, better than they would have done on foot. And whoever was following them must have given up or lost their trail on the river, just like Mooney had said, because he and Tess had seen very few people and none of them poachers. They likely wouldn’t see anyone on this section of the river, he thought. It was too remote. Cain was determined to take the river as far as it would let them. And that might be right here, he concluded, looking ahead to where the river suddenly and dramatically narrowed into a shallow riffle.

“Seems like Mother Nature wants us to stop here,” he said to Tess.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and the fawn, who had perked up and was looking curiously out at the river. “We aren’t going to—what did you call it? Portage again, are we?” she asked, hopefully.

“No,” Cain assured. “No more today. We are losing the sun, and up ahead looks as good a place as any to camp.”

“Yea!” Tess cheered. He laughed as she struggled to pump her paddle enthusiastically in the air.

They continued up to the riffle and as close to the mouth of the narrow passage as they could.

“Paddle right. Again. Again,” Cain instructed as he turned the canoe sideways hoping for a better look at the river beyond. From what he could see the water ahead was impassable, shallow, and filled with rocks and deadfall.

“Spooky, huh?” Tess said with a shiver. “Is it me or is it cooler in there?” she asked, pointing into the passage.

Cain nodded. He could actually feel cold air coming out of the passage and could now see puffs of misty fog rising up in the distance.

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