THE CANOE;
ITS SELECTION, CARE AND USE
CHAPTER IV
PADDLING IN BOW AND STERN; THE STROKE
PADDLING a canoe is like any other wilderness activity. It is a matter of practice and experience, of instinctive and unconscious movement. It is as difficult to teach as horseback riding or skating.
Primarily. it is the action of thrusting a paddle forward, catching the water and pulling the canoe up to and past it. Two beginners in a canoe at once paddle on opposite sides because they find they work against each other. They are satisfied with this fact and continue to waste energy, each forcing the canoe ahead, but also diagonally across the course toward which the other's efforts tend. The paddler in the stern finds that he more than overcomes the turning tendency of the other and loses still more time and strength trailing his paddle to hold the canoe straight.
Gradually both bowman and stern paddler acquire the belief that the stern man must do all the steering, that he may take time from forcing the canoe forward to do so, and that the bowman must only paddle always with the same stroke and with as much energy as his temperament or inclination decrees.
Both become accustomed to the rising and falling of the canoe in small waves. As they venture into large waves each unconsciously balances the craft as it passes over a crest. They still paddle as when they began, although accustomed muscles and practice have made their strokes more regular and stronger.
And these two paddlers will go through their canoeing days with no greater knowledge unless much experience in rough waters teaches the necessity of many tricks with the paddle and brings those instinctive, unconscious movements which mark the experienced canoeman.
To begin with the bowman. The first and general belief that his only duty is to sit in front and paddle should be dispelled. First, he must set a steady, regular stroke that never varies in inclination of the paddle or in the strength applied. His stroke must be machine like. He should not throw his paddle forward and sweep it back in the most natural way. This swings the bow in the opposite direction. Practice, study, and experience will teach him that, by starting his paddle farther away from the bow and bringing it back in a nearly straight line to his side, he will devote practically all the energy expended to forcing the canoe straight ahead. He will see that his former stroke, starting closer to the bow and sweeping back in an outward arc, has always forced the bow in the opposite direction. This, in addition to his own diverted energy, calls for wasted effort on the part of the stern paddler in swinging the canoe back or in holding it against the oblique course.
The foregoing applies to straight paddling on a lake without a heavy sea. Near shore, where there are rocks, snags, or logs, either above or below the surface, in rivers where swift currents twist, or in small streams where sharp bends are to be made, the bowman becomes equally responsible with the stern man in steering. Many times he must assume all the responsibility. It is then that the bowman, to be a good bowman, must have the ability to "draw" and to "throw" a canoe. All this can be done from the side on which he is paddling and generally without a cessation of his forward propelling efforts. Few bowmen realize the possibilities of their position, however. Even the man considered skilled at the summer resort or park knows little or nothing of what a bowman should do. It is in the wilderness, where constant paddling and meeting all sorts of conditions are the rule, that the efficient bowman is developed.
Let the bowman first understand that he is as important to the speed and safe passage of the canoe as the stern paddler. Let him understand that his strength and skill are as essential in turning or keeping the course as the other's. Let him understand that his is the sole duty of setting a regular, efficient stroke, that his is the chief duty of watching for rocks and snags beneath the surface, that his is the duty of passing back information as to the course which the stern paddler cannot obtain because of his position. In short, let him understand that he must be more than a machine or working passenger.
Once the bowman has learned the most effective way of propelling the canoe straight ahead, without obliquely tending efforts, he can take up the subject of his own duties and possibilities in steering. To "draw" the canoe, he merely reaches far out to the side and pulls By pulling toward himself at an angle of forty-five degrees to the canoe he not only turns the canoe in the desired direction, but he also maintains the forward motion. The angle at which he pulls must be adapted to the quickness of the turn to be made. If an unusually sharp bend is to be negotiated, or the canoe turned about quickly, the propelling force should come entirely from the stern while the bowman pulls the bow around. This is the opposite of the generally conceived idea, but it is the most effective. The bowman, to do this, can reach out at right angles and pull straight toward himself, or he can, more effectively, hold his paddle in the water, turn the forward edge of the blade outward and lean heavily upon the shaft. If the canoe has little or no momentum, he may pull the bow around quickly by keeping his paddle in the water, leaning heavily upon it and working it forward and back, slightly turning the blade so that the leading edge is always away from the canoe.
Proficiency in these strokes is not easy to acquire, but practice, study, and experience will soon open a bowman's eyes to the possibilities of his position in the canoe and enable him and his companion to turn sudden river bends without that disheartening loss of momentum.
All this has applied, however, only to turning the canoe toward the side on which the bowman is paddling. To turn in the opposite direction, the bowman must change sides or be proficient in "throwing" the canoe, the most difficult thing he has to learn. In many instances there is not time to change the paddle from one side of the canoe to the other when a sub-sur face rock shows dead ahead, and even in a twisting stream it is bothersome. But to throw a canoe requires much practice and a strong wrist. Except for my own "bowman," I have known only one paddler who could do it efficiently, although there are undoubtedly many others.
"Throwing" the canoe is based on the principle above mentioned that there is less loss of momentum in making short turns if the stern paddler furnishes the motive power. The bowman becomes the steersman. His paddle is held perpendicularly, the blade in the water and its forward edge straight ahead. The lower hand must hold the paddle rigidly, while the upper hand turns the blade as though it were a rudder. This should be done slowly and cautiously. A quick turn permits the water to wrench the paddle around so that the flat blade stops the canoe. To turn it even slightly results in a wrench that tests the lower wrist and the grip of the upper hand. But, if the paddle, which really becomes a rudder, is held firmly, the bow is lifted and quickly shot over to the Opposite side and the rock evaded or the turn negotiated, the stern paddler, during the operation, having continued to force the canoe forward, helping to turn, of course, as he can.
This position of the paddle is a good one to maintain when approaching a shore. By a quick twist either way, the bowman can direct the canoe to a safe landing with the utmost delicacy. Caution is necessary, however, in "throwing" a canoe. If the momentum be great, the paddle may be wrenched under the canoe and the craft capsized.
Before the bowman has acquired this knowledge and perfected himself in these strokes, the stern paddler has become proficient. In efficient paddling the stern man has much less to learn, although, in the usual canoeing party, he is the most skilled. But, if he has a less number of strokes and tricks in which to perfect himself, he still has many other things to study. The first will be the usual straight. ahead stroke. At first he trails his paddle, using it as a rudder at the end of each stroke, to keep the canoe straight. Even with an efficient bowman, his own misdirected efforts tend to a constant deviation from the course. Gradually he learns that, by ending his stroke with a slightly outward shove, and by twisting his paddle so that the inner edge of the blade leads the other, he accomplishes the same result without the loss of time or wasted effort.
In time, the slight variations of this stroke necessary to conditions that change constantly, as on a windy lake, become instinctive and automatic, and he may paddle in a straight line without close attention to the task.
As the bowman must assume much of the steering responsibility in a twisting river, the stern paddler assumes it all in open water travel. With a bowman propelling a canoe as he should, the stern man reaches the stage where he performs his task unconsciously.
The usual stroke of the amateur canoeist is a long, slow pull with a slow, sweeping recovery. In the north woods, where the canoe is best understood, this stroke is never seen. The stroke is shorter, the recovery like lightning, and nearly two strokes are taken to the amateur's one.
A day's journey will demonstrate the superiority of the woodsman's methods. His quick recovery almost eliminates that loss of momentum which is so hard to overcome and which is a continual drag on the energy of the slow-stroked paddler. The canoe maintains its headway, and greater results are accomplished for the energy expended.
The woodsman devotes his strength to the first of the stroke. The power diminishes rapidly when the paddle reaches his side, and the stroke is terminated quickly after it has passed. To continue the stroke as far back as one can reach necessitates a sharp inclination of the paddle. Any force expended upon the paddle when it is so inclined serves to pull the paddle up through the water more than to push it backward. The result on the canoe is to force or pull down the stern rather than to add to the forward motion. Not only is energy diverted from propulsion, but the upward lift on the paddle forces the stern more deeply into the water, thereby causing a greater drag on the canoe.
The quick, short stroke has another advantage which saves time and energy. With the proper paddle, the spring of the blade itself is sufficient to shoot the paddle forward for the next stroke with but little effort on the part of the paddler. To do this, the lower hand should be rigid at the end of the stroke, and there should be a slight, quick addition of power just before the paddle leaves the water.
The university oarsman, with his long sweep and sliding seat, takes from thirty to forty. two strokes to the minute. The usual racing stroke is about thirty-six. Loss of momentum is one of the things most carefully guarded against. The canoeist, even though he be plodding along hour after hour instead of racing, can benefit by the same principle. It is for this reason that the woodsman takes nearly twice as many strokes as the park lagoon paddler.
The usual slow paddler takes twenty-five to twenty-eight strokes to the minute. The woodsman, with his quick recovery and shorter stroke, takes forty-four to forty-seven. He travels faster with less expenditure of energy. In repeated trials I have found that the quick, short stroke is far less tiring in addition to accomplishing greater results.
CHAPTER V
THE POSITION OF THE PADDLER
BEFORE going farther with the subject of paddling, the question of seats, or their absence, should be considered. The cane seat, built in practically all canoes made in the United States, is strictly a white man's addition to the craft. Undoubtedly it was called for by the infrequent use of the canoe and consequent inability or dislike of the canoeist to assume the position of the original paddler, the American Indian. Today the use of the cane seat is so common in the United States that few realize the existence of another method.
The first canoeman, the Indian, did not put a seat in his canoe because he knew it lessened his paddling power and decreased the stability of his craft. The Canadian, who has used the canoe far more than residents of the United States, did not place a seat in his canoe, nor did he adhere to the Indian method of sitting on the inner sides of his feet. He effected a compromise by placing a broad thwart about ten inches above the bottom and kneeling, with his hips resting on the thwart.
For the most effective paddling, for insured steadiness of the canoe, for better control over the craft, and for greater safety in rough water, either lake storms or rapids, the kneeling position is the best.
The reasons are obvious, if the subject is given close study. Stability becomes greater the lower the load in the canoe and the less the weight on the gunwales. To abandon the seat, which is fastened on the bottom, manifestly tends to increase stability. To assume the Indian's position, which brings the hips to within two or three inches of the bottom, affords even greater stability, for all the load is on the bottom, the weight is as low as possible, and the swinging lever of the body is so greatly shortened that any swaying motion has less effect.
For all except ordinary conditions, the Canadian's position is sufficient, so far as stability is concerned. In extremely nasty going it may be necessary for the paddler to abandon his thwart and get lower, in the Indian's position. Such necessity is very rare, however.
For travel in quiet waters or on calm lakes, it may be argued that the cane seat is permissible. It is, so far as stability is concerned, but it does not permit the most effective propulsion of the canoe. The university oarsman uses his legs and body far more than his arms in driving the shell. The man who rows from a stationary seat does not depend entirely upon his arms, but has his legs braced and uses their strength and that of his back. But the paddler, sitting erect on a seat, cannot use any muscles except those of his arms and shoulders. He exerts a strain on those of his back and hips, but that strain is necessary to retain a firm contact with the canoe and does not serve to aid propulsion.
The knee paddler, by falling forward onto his paddle at the beginning of his stroke, is permitted to use his back and thigh muscles in propulsion, and practically all exertion is directly applied to driving his craft. He either can attain a greater speed for the same expenditure of energy as the seat paddler, or he can maintain the same speed with less exertion.
There are two additional advantages in knee paddling. The man on a seat sits on his canoe, clings to it. The knee paddler wedges his knees against the side, braces against the thwart and becomes a part of his craft, just as the cowpuncher becomes a part of his horse. He has his canoe under better control in balancing, propelling, and handling. Further, in a breeze, he offers less of his body to the wind and can more easily forge ahead. This last is an important factor in an all-day struggle against a head wind.
There is only one real objection to paddling from the knees, and that is the consequent discomfort to the beginner. He cannot remain in that position long at a time. But it comes with practice and can be worked into gradually. The man physically fit and hardened soon grows accustomed to the position. The city man who spends his evenings on a lake or a few weeks at a summer resort or in the wilderness will have a more difficult time of it. But it is worth enduring a little pain to acquire the knack of knee paddling. The compensation is more than will be expected, and some day, on a gale-swept stretch of water, it may mean the paddler's life or that of a companion.
The best way to learn is to start the first day of a trip. When impeded circulation and cramps make it painful, get back into the seat, or sit on the thwart if there are no seats. Rest a short time, and then try the knees again. In a few days you will be doing all your paddling from the knees and be glad that you are able to do so.
Manufacturers of the best canoes will build canvas craft with the Canadian's thwart in stead of the cane seat without extra charge.
CHAPTER VI
PADDLING A CANOE ALONE
TWO men in a canoe learn to paddle with certain strokes. When there are three or four there is practically no difference. There are few, except where men are accustomed to traveling much alone, who can, single handed, properly handle a canoe under all sorts of conditions.
The common method of handling a canoe alone is to turn the craft around, using the bow for the stern, and sit on the bow seat or kneel before. the bow thwart, if there are no seats. The object is to bring the paddler's weight nearer the center of the canoe and keep more of the craft in the water that stability may be increased. With a load, the lone canoeman generally places it far forward and uses the stern seat, or thwart, in the usual way because he finds he has difficulty in handling the canoe except when dose to the rear end. Many place a weight in the bow to hold it down and paddle from the stern seat.
Under favorable conditions -- running down stream in good water, on a calm lake or with a breeze straight behind -- such methods result in easy handling. Running rapids singly, on windy lakes with the wind ahead or on the beam or quarter, or crossing whirling, twisting currents or whirlpools, such a position in a canoe is impossible for adequate handling. A man may make some progress, but the energy expended is altogether out of proportion to that necessary, while in an extremely heavy wind any progress is impossible.
The correct manner in which to paddle a canoe alone, either with or without a load, is from the center. This is the method employed by the Indians, and it has been adopted by the most efficient white canoemen, those who live in the north country.
With the canoeman in the center, or a few inches aft, the canoe rides on practically an even keel. It draws less water and travels faster. There is no drag at the stern as is the case when the bow is riding high out of the water. Greater speed is possible.
But the great advantage of paddling from the center lies in the greater control the canoeman has over his craft. Sitting in the stern, or even using the bow seat and turning the canoe around, the paddler is still far from the forward end. A wind or current may grasp the bow and whirl him about readily. The long stretch of canoe without a paddle acts as a large lever, and in a bad wind human strength and skill are powerless to keep the craft headed in the direction desired. If the lone paddler sits in the stern of a light canoe, he not only is powerless in a wind, but the greatly decreased stability of the craft, and the large amount of the canoe out of the water and offered to the wind, make his position dangerous. When he paddles from the bow seat he does not eliminate the trouble, but only diminishes it.
Paddling from the center, the canoeman has his craft under as nearly perfect control as is possible. Wind or currents have an equal effect on bow and stern, or nearly so, and, because of his position, the paddler can pull, push or hold either bow or stern more nearly where he wants them. In such a position he can hold his canoe straight into a bad wind, while he also may quarter into it or quarter away from it. In fact, it is the only position in a canoe which permits travel in a gale.
There is an added advantage in the middle position in that it affords a light bow and stern which, in turn, mean a dry canoe even in a heavy sea. The canoe rises and falls instantly with each wave and is not so stiff that it antagonizes a comber and takes splash or spray over the gunwales. The man who paddles alone from the stern, with his load far forward, lacks this advantage and takes water, which is both uncomfortable and dangerous.
In carrying a load in a canoe, paddling from the stern is as easy and equally advantageous if running before a light or even stiff wind, or if paddling on calm waters. With a stiff breeze in any other direction, however, the load should be placed both before and behind the paddler in such a manner as to permit a practically even keel. In order to gain the advantage of a light bow and stern for heavy seas, the load should be placed as near the paddler as possible.
Paddling from the center is a trick in itself for the canoeman, and, no matter what his skill in bow or stern with another paddler, he will have difficulty in mastering the center stroke. A little experimenting, a study of cause and effect, and he will be better fitted to begin practicing. Once the stroke is acquired, it becomes as automatic and unconscious as that in bow or stern.
The best position for the center stroke is to kneel. In nearly all Canadian canoes the center thwart is placed ten or twelve inches aft of the center. The lone canoeman kneels in front of this thwart, resting his hips upon it. His weight is then a few inches aft of the center. The kneeling position brings the canoeist lower, and he must be nearer the water than when paddling in bow or stern.
The first stroke the beginner will take in such a position, and the most natural stroke, will be to start the blade near the canoe and sweep it back and away from him in an arc, the stroke ending, as it began, with the paddle against the canoe. Instantly the canoe will turn. Four such strokes will turn it completely around. So the beginner starts his stroke in the same manner, carries it through in the same way, and ends it by trailing his paddle and pulling the canoe back into and past the line of travel. This results in a course similar to that of a snake in motion, with the canoe turning first far to one side and then far to the other side of the line of travel. That means a great waste of energy and loss of momentum.
To paddle correctly from the center, and to keep the canoe traveling in a straight line, it is necessary to start the stroke, not close to the canoe, as would be natural, but out from it.
Half way through, the stroke is close to the gunwale and moving straight back. Immediately after it has passed the paddler, it is turned outward, finishing slightly away from the canoe. The result is that the bow, at the beginning of the stroke, instead of being turned away from the paddle, is held straight, and the stern, at the end of the stroke, instead of being pulled toward the paddle, is kept in line.
The last of this stroke is uncomfortable and tiring. The most efficient and easy stroke starts away from the canoe, moves straight toward the gunwale at the paddler's side and then continues straight back along the canoe. However, as the paddle passes the canoeman, the blade is turned so that the inner edge leads the outer edge. The inclination of the paddle increases, until, as the paddle is taken from the water at the end of the stroke, the blade is at an angle of forty-five degrees to the canoe.
Such a stroke results in the canoe traveling straight ahead with little or no deviation from the course if there is no wind. In a heavy sea, of course, it is varied to meet conditions. Much practice is necessary to attain perfection in paddling from the center, and few canoemen will take the trouble to learn it unless compelled to do much traveling alone on windy lakes. Once the stroke has been perfected, however, the paddler will prefer it to any other.
It is advisable for the beginner to kneel directly over the keel until he has begun to master his stroke. Once he is part of his canoe, he can begin to move out toward the gunwale. When he is a skilled center paddler his side will be against the gunwale, and his canoe will be tipping at a seemingly dangerous angle. However, it will run better on its side, and the position nearer the gunwale permits more power being put into the stroke and better control over the canoe.
The side position is best under nearly all circumstances. The paddlers, where two are in a canoe, can balance each other if they move out toward the gunwales. The paddle held perpendicularly is always more efficient than that which crosses the breast of the canoeman.
CHAPTER VII
LAKE TRAVEL
THE two conditions of canoe travel demanding great skill are those of open water and white water. In either only experience will bring proficiency. Instruction is inadequate and difficult. Set rules cannot fit conditions which are never twice alike. Each wave on a large lake has as much individuality as the usual stretch of rapids. Not only knowledge, but a well developed ability to act instinctively, automatically, and unconsciously is necessary. This comes only through experience. There can be only, on such a subject, a number of general cautions and rules, all of a certain elasticity and adaptability.
In lake travel the canoeist probably meets the greatest test. Rapids may be dangerous, but they decide quickly. There is a moment of tensity and an exhilaration, mingled with a feeling of utter helplessness, and you are safely through or are struggling in the water. On a broad lake, white-capped and squall-swept, the fight may go on for hours. There is no opportunity to rest, to relax tense nerves and muscles, to ease the strain.
The ability of a good canoe to live through a gale is little less than marvelous. Provided it is of the proper model, well handled, and properly loaded, a canoe will live through most anything. The greatest difficulty comes in reaching the desired destination.
One common misconception of the canoe is that it cannot take a sea broadside, cannot travel in the trough. But, for a skilled canoeist, there is no safer or easier direction in which to take the wind. The canoe handles more easily, better time can be made, and less water will be taken. The only requisite is an ability to balance instinctively, and this comes only with practice and experience.
In traveling across the wind the canoe merely rises and falls with the waves. It is only when the crest is reached, and the craft starts down the windward side, that a supreme nicety in balance is necessary, that there is danger of taking water or even of capsizing. If the waves are breaking badly, as in a quick squall, it is necessary to head the canoe slightly into the wind, so that the force of the breaking comber is taken farther forward.
In this connection it is best to fix the status of the bowman in any sort of bad water. Under no circumstances should he ever try to balance the canoe by leaning to one side or the other, or by holding his paddle in the water. From his position he is unable to see how a wave is affecting the canoe. The stern paddler has the entire situation before him. He alone is in a position to maintain the proper balance, and he alone should do it. No matter how far the canoe leans one way or the other, the bowman should maintain his position and keep paddling. This applies to rapids as well as to taking seas at any angle, both delicate operations.
The best instance of the necessity of such lack of action on the bowman's part is had in heading slightly into the wind when taking heavy seas on the beam. The bow, slightly to the windward of the stern, climbs the sea to the crest with a quick, bouncing motion. It shoots out over the crest, is suspended in mid air for an instant, and then jerks down. At the same time the stern bounces up. Simultaneously, there is a quick shifting of the support of the canoe by the water and a consequent, instantaneous tilt from leeward to windward. The stern paddler alone can see the exact moment when his weight must be shifted sufficiently to prevent taking water. Should the bowman also act, the stern paddler's delicate poise would be disturbed, and water would be shipped or the canoe capsized.
On a large lake, where there are long rollers, riding waves in the trough is comparatively easy and lacking in danger. If the seas are short and choppy, water will splash in. On a large river, like the Mississippi, where a heavy wind against a strong current piles up high, short, combing waves, there is always danger, traveling in any direction, and only a skilled paddler should attempt such a sea. Riding the trough becomes especially dangerous here because of the opposite forces of gripping current and wind.
Quartering away from the wind is comparatively easy and safe. Quartering into it is harder and requires great delicacy, not only in balancing as the canoe takes an oblique plunge over the roller, but the craft must be nursed carefully that a stiff bow is not offered to a comber. Ability to handle waves on the bow comes comparatively quickly. It is largely a question of forging ahead between waves and easing up on the power as the boat meets the crest.
In taking the wind on the quarter, either fore or aft, it is impossible to keep the point from slueing around several points on each wave. The stern paddler needs only to retard this tendency. To prevent it entirely means a waste of strength and to hold the craft solidly against a wave, with a consequent taking of water over the gunwales.
Running before the wind is much like taking it on the quarter. Practically all the stern man's strength is needed to keep the canoe straight, for slue around it will when a roller passes beneath it. A perfect balance only is necessary to keep the craft dry, provided it is not loaded too heavily.
Bucking straight into a gale requires eternal watchfulness, endurance and patience. A pugnacious spirit may prove disastrous. Every wave cannot be conquered. With most a compromise must be effected.
Many canoeists make the mistake of traveling too fast against a heavy wind. This results in the bow plunging into a wave and taking water. To drive a canoe hard against the wind also results in the bow shooting out over the crest and dropping with a thud onto the next wave. This not only causes the spray to fly and the canoe to stop, but it is hard on the craft. A paddle blade may be split by striking it flat against the water. What must be the result when a canoe drops with a bang, the bottom striking flatly against the side of a wave?
In a short, choppy sea there is more splash because the waves will not lift the bow. In a longer roll, though the waves may be higher, there is less danger of taking water. Sometimes, even with a lake model canoe, water will come over. In such cases it is well to move the load back, even to have the bow paddler sit back of his seat or thwart. This lightens the bow, which rises more easily and dryly with the wave. The question of ballast in all kinds of water is discussed in the chapter on precautions.
In paddling against a wind a regular stroke is almost impossible, if the waves are running high. Distance must be made between rollers and the speed eased up when a particularly vicious wave is met.
If waves are particularly choppy and, even with a lightened bow, insist on coming over, a clever bowman may escape a great deal of spray by jumping the canoe over each roller. An Indian taught me the trick. When the bow began to rise to the crest of a curler that threatened to come over, he would leap upward from his knees. Probably seventy-five per cent. of his weight would be removed from the canoe. The bow would spring upward and top the wave. As his weight descended the crest had been passed, and the bow would drop gently on the other side. It is a trick which should be attempted only by an experienced bowman.
While a good stern paddler may balance his craft perfectly as waves pass under him, he may add to the security by holding his paddle in the water. Many canoeists steady a canoe in this manner without realizing that they do so. A stern paddler also will unintentionally alternate his stroke with that of the bowman in bad water. This aids in maintaining a better equilibrium, as one paddle is in the water while the other is lifted for the next stroke.
The presence or absence of a load makes a big difference in the action of a canoe on a rough lake. A load increases the steadiness greatly. Too great a load results in a loggy craft that easily ships water. A light canoe with two men will dance buoyantly over the waves, but is extremely hard to handle. Its very buoyancy results in a lack of steadiness. With a load allowing six or seven inches of freeboard in the center, perhaps the best results may be obtained with a sixteen-foot canoe. This affords protection from curlers, while the craft retains sufficient buoyancy to rise with a wave.
A canoeist who has been in the wilderness more than twenty years, has crossed practically every lake in Ontario, and that means thousands, and has had experience in the swift rivers of Quebec and Labrador, ballasts a light canoe with logs when there is a heavy gale or bad rapids to be run. The weight gives steadiness to the craft, the logs would come in handy if there were an accident, and the load will not shift or roll if several short limbs are left on the logs. A rock or two could be more easily obtained, but they might roll or shift their position and cause an upset, while, should there be an accident, they would be of no assistance.
The whole proposition of lake travel is one of experience and caution. A good canoe, properly loaded and handled, will perform wonders. A good canoeman and such a craft can live through anything short of a hurricane. But there is always a time when even the experienced man remains on shore. A slip of the paddle, the shifting of a pack, a moment of inattention, and disaster comes quickly and surely.
The best way to learn is to do it. Begin in light winds until the nicety and instinctiveness of balancing is perfected, becomes automatic. Then, within easy reach of shore, all sorts and conditions of wind and waves may be tried out until the canoeman learns what he can do and what he cannot do. Once he has discovered his own limitations and those of his craft, he is safe, provided he keeps within bounds.
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© 2000 Craig O'Donnell
May not be reproduced without my permission.
Go scan your own damn article.