There are several things I love about paddling a canoe. One of them is that it is a mode of transportation that doesn’t emphasize the destination. There are lots of times in life when one needs transportation to get from one place to another. And there was a time in history when canoes were the means of traveling long distances. The voyageurs were in the transportation business. Their freight consisted mostly of furs. From the late 1600’s through the 1700’s, voyageurs transported trade goods and furs across the continent. The Montreal Canoes were often more than 36’ in length and used on the Great Lakes. The smaller North Canoes were used on interior rivers. The voyageurs had to be able to carry two 90-pound packs at each portage. There are stories of men who could carry eight packs. Their lives were characterized by four verbs: carry, paddle, walk and sing.
But I use my canoes for recreation. I have no destination in mind. My most common place to paddle is Sheridan Lake, a reservoir a few miles from my home. I have paddled and rowed there so often that I know individual trees along the shoreline. I notice differences in water level and watch the plants grow each season. I have become familiar with some of the inhabitants of the lake. The birds are too numerous for me to recognize individuals, but I get to know some of the other creatures quite well.
Yesterday was a day to paddle with no destination. My woodstrip canoe is modeled after the design of the Chestnut Prospector. These days there are plenty of modern canoes made out of composite materials that boast extreme lightweight and have great value for long trips. But I prefer wooden canoes. My prospector is about 65 pounds and nearly a perfect canoe for my purposes. It is a deep, beamy canoe that is capable of hauling heavy loads, but nimble and responsive when paddled solo. It is symmetrical, which means that the canoe doesn’t care which end is bow and which is stern. I like to turn it around and paddle backwards when paddling solo so that I can occasionally sit on the bow seat without being so far from the center of gravity.
Mostly, however, I like to kneel near the center thwart. I have a pad of closed-cell foam that fits across the canoe and allows me to feel balanced and in control of the boat. Yesterday was a good day to practice the Canadian stroke and just get a feel for the grace of the boat. The prospector has enough rocker and a shallow arched hull that allows me to lean the boat to one side and make a complete circle with a couple of sweep strokes. It is especially responsive to a back sweep. I take a couple of forward strokes to get the boat moving and then lean into a back sweep and the boat spins around its center. There is a feeling of complete control, especially when the water is calm.
Yesterday I had the lake to myself. There was one boat with a couple of fishermen at the far end of the lake and it was just me and the ducks and geese where I was paddling. The ducks seem mostly annoyed at my presence. They pretend that I’m not around until I come too close to where they are scouting out nesting areas in the cattails and then they make a raucous fuss of taking off and flying a short distance away. The geese, it seems, are honking for my benefit. A pair of Canadian geese can be so noisy that it seems that they are calling out their warnings and general complaint. I’m pretty sure they are just as noisy when I am not around. The geese are actually relatively tolerant of my paddling. They don’t mind if I paddle relatively close to them as long as I am quiet and don’t make any sudden moves.
Yesterday, since I was just playing, I paddled close to the cattails. The stalks of last year’s plants are still mostly standing up, with a few broken down and bent into the water. The shoots of the new plants are just below the waterline, so it is mostly yellow and tan above the water and green below. The redwing blackbirds stand out against the stalks and they love to sit and chirp as I paddle by. They seem to know about how long my paddle is and as long as I keep that much distance they stay put on their stalks singing away.
This year there seem to be a lot of turkey buzzards in the hills. We see them soaring over the church and around home. Yesterday there was a group of the birds congregated on the shore near the north beach landing area. They are rather ungainly birds, often strutting with their wings spread. They seem to prefer dead trees or human-made structures such as signposts or the pit toilet for their roosting, but these birds weren’t roosting, just hanging around looking for something to eat. I suppose that dead fish occasionally wash up on the shore. I’ve never seen one of the birds in the water, and suspect that they prefer to stay dry. They weren’t bothered by my approach and allowed me to watch as they pecked at each other and pushed each other around vying for the position at the top of the signpost.
I had taken a camera, a stuff sack of foam to use as a kneeler, my pad, pfd and paddle, so I made two trips, carrying my “stuff” first and returning for the canoe. As I started back for the canoe, I was impressed with how good it looked sitting alongside the lake, ready for its next adventure. I paused to take a picture of the boat.
Often the best days in the hills are days when I have no destination in mind and am able to simply enjoy being in this place of beauty and peace. Indeed I am blessed by the places of my life.
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