The Chamonix Chronicles — Episode 9

Niko spent the next day at the shop prepping his supplies for the run up the river with Bayless. He even waited to see Tracey leave the house before he snuck back in to make a quick sandwich for lunch. He wanted to tell her where he was going the next day, but he knew that would shatter his plans. He knew as well as Tracey that he shouldn’t go out there. He was going anyway, and he felt that there were no words to describe exactly why.

There was no avoiding dinner though. He made minimal conversation while they ate, conducting himself as if he just had a normal single day trip the next morning — which is what he told Tracey. She sensed something was off.

“How did that guy react when you texted?”

“About how you would expect,” Niko said. Chamonix’s never lie, but they are skilled at looping around the truth.

“Everything okay?”

“Yea. Just tired.”

Tracey eyed him for a moment and then turned away.

Niko slept in short stretches broken by anxious rumination. He rose from bed at 3:30 in the morning, the sky still black, the night critters shuffling around in the bushes. He ate breakfast while Tracey slept.

After the rinsed his dish, he wiped his hands on his guide pants and looked around the room, and then up the stairs. He walked two steps towards them, now looking through the ceiling, as if he could see Tracey sleeping above him. He paused there for a moment. His face contorting, miming an argument. He shook his head and turned back to the kitchen table. He wrote a brief note and left the confession on the table before he walked out.

Big Berry Dumpling was sniffing around the fish table. He heard Niko and raised his nose in the direction of the house. Niko walked by the creature.

“You’d never be such a coward, would you?”

Big Berry Dumpling grunted and continued his inspection of the table.

Bayless was right on time, and they drove to the boat launch together.

“I don’t care how much money you just threw at me, when we are out there, you listen to what I say. My boat, my rules.” Niko was looking over his shoulder, backing his truck down the ragged ramp of the boat launch.

“Fine,” Bayless replied. “I’ll listen to whatever you say … as long as I agree.”

“I’m serious. When we are out there and you want to do something, I might say no, and you have to listen, even if it doesn’t make sense to you right then.”

“Good god Niko,” Bayless said and laughed. “Shit man, what is it about this place that gets you all worked up?”

“Just seen how easy things go wrong out there. That’s why you wanted me right?”

“It is. What did Tracey say about all this?”

Niko hesitated, trying to remember if ever told Bayless that Tracey was his wife’s name.

Bayless, accustomed to giving the impression of transparency while withholding information, realized his mistake.

“Yes. I looked into your life quite a bit before coming up here, and I know your wife’s name. My line of business has taught me to investigate all angles of a situation. I guess I was being a little overzealous.”

“You think?” This guy is weirder than I thought.

“Well, you caught me detective.” Bayless opened a beer.

Niko looked at him. “I enjoy a beer as much as anyone, but it’s 5:40.”

“Is this a fishing trip or colonoscopy?”

Niko shook his head and muttered. This was not the start he needed to put his mind at ease. Niko looked at the clock and thought of Tracey, who would be up in twenty minutes. She would read the note soon and would know his actual plan — that was if she didn’t know it deep down already.

“Well, what did she say?”

“I didn’t tell Tracey.”

“That seems dumb as shit.”

“Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?”

“Why the hell would I do that? You said I had to listen to you on the boat, not that I couldn’t talk.”

The trailer and drift boat were in the water now, and Niko put the truck in park. “Don’t touch anything.”

“You got it boss.” Bayless laughed.

Niko hopped out of the truck, and walked in his crocs into the water and started the routine that he guessed he might have done more than a thousand times before.

Straps unbuckled, cords secured, check the plug, check the depth, get the line in hand, check the engine is up, check the plug again, lower the boat in, walk it around, tie it off, check the plug isn’t leaking, back to the truck, park, tell a joke, safety talk, tell a joke, explain the fishing and the trip, tell a joke, check the plug, load them up, shove off.

That’s when his world synched up with the current, his mind finally turned off, and the focus became seams and pockets, rocks to avoid, snags above, eddies with the big fish, lines to float, and the best place anchor up with a fish on. His mind focused on the river and the easy pleasure of the natural world.

Except today was different. He felt less like a fishing guide and more like a chauffeur — unfortunately similar to the last time on the Nagadan with Bernard.

Niko fired the motor and smiled at the puff of diesel fumes. Not many things smell as perfect as diesel mingling with the cleanness of a good river at dawn and the waft of pine groves. Niko ran the boat the entire day while Bayless drank and periodically pissed over the side. Every time Niko tried to stop at a good fishing spot, Bayless just pointed upstream. “Onward,” he would yell, and they spent the entire day in that manner.

Bayless was fall-down drunk by the time they stopped for dinner. He barely touched the food that Niko made, and he slurred his words into an incoherent mixture that seemed to be both offensive towards Niko and appreciative of the natural beauty of the river.

Niko grew weary of the act. “Time to get some sleep.”

Bayless murmured and nodded. Niko held his arm and led him into the tent where he promptly passed out with one foot sticking through the door.

Niko considered leaving the foot where it was and keeping the tent door open. Bayless deserved any and all bug bites after his performance. Then he figured the hangover would be bad enough, and he lifted the man’s leg into the tent and zipped the screen fully

After clean up, Niko sat by the river and watched the moon climb as he listened to the loons and the coyotes and the frogs and bugs. He shrugged and leaned over and lifted one of Bayless’s beers from the cooler.

I don’t drink when I’m guiding, but this one is different.

“Thanks man, you’re very generous.” He held the can up as if toasting Bayless’s ability to sleep so quickly in such an uncomfortable position.

“You’re missing the best part of the day.” Niko sipped the beer slow as he thought about the next day’s route. Maybe another mile up, they would split onto the Nagadan.

He read from a tattered and wilted paperback copy of Death, Taxes, and Leaky Waders by John Gierach while he finished the beer. Not long after dark he climbed into this own tent. He dreamt of Richard and Tracey, and of floating a unfamiliar river alone at dawn, looking back to a distant town and seeing nothing but rugged wilderness in front of him.

…

Check back next week to see what Niko discovers on his return to the Nagadan.