081413 #copperhead Ahead, the north bank becomes the northeast bank, and the south bank becomes southwest. Directly west, there is a gravel bar. He is still in the stern, and therefore largely in control of which way we turn. Instead of turning early to anticipate the current, he begins to barrel straight ahead. Confused, I switch to the left side and dig in with gusto. My tricep, long and thin, flexes with the effort. It's tan; it feels good; it isn't enough to dissuade the forward motion of the canoe; all my heaving does is accelerate the inevitable, and with a scraping *boom,* we slam halfway up the bar. I lurch forward with the sudden stopping. The sound of the curling current against the back end of the boat is suddenly loud, like someone pouring out a giant tea kettle fast.