The Survival of the Bark Canoe
By John McPhee
Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1989. $7.95
Reviewed by Jim Lacey
November 1990 (Wooden Canoe Issue #43)
There is the story of the sojourn itself, five men off on a meandering, 150-mile journey by canoe through the Maine wilderness north of the Moosehead. And there is the question of the utility of primitive technology, for the men undertake their venture in two birchbark canoes made Indian-fashion by one of their number, the acknowledged master of that craft, Henri Vaillancourt of Greenville, NH. Then there is, inevitably, the question of why men go into the woods with no clearly stated objectives, and an implied answer that their motives are complex and often contradictory. The question of leadership who makes the decisions Ñ is raised from time to time for Vaillancourt, who more or less organized the expedition, had assumed that prerogative, yet appears to have had little experience in the woods and none at all with canoes in rough water. And finally, there is a strand of reference to the past, to the incredibly arduous journeys of the early voyageurs in the fur trade and, more appropriately, to the rambling adventures of Henry David Thoreau, whom the sojourners discuss from time to time and whose posthumous The Maine Woods served as their guidebook.
The trip itself is relatively uneventful, at least in comparison with the whitewater catastrophe heralded in James Dickey's Deliverance, a yarn which McPhee himself sees as an overwrought, melodramatic analogue of the journey he is describing. There is little in the way of idealization of the wilderness or rhapsody about the joys of returning to nature, for the trail and campsites are buggy, wet or muddy and the open water alarmingly rough in a stiff blow whenever the group ventures onto it. There is, nevertheless, more than a trace of macho romanticism and backwoods bohemianism in McPhee's celebration of self-reliance and his patronizing attitude toward other travelers they meet, who are described as being relatively inept or innocent. The spirit of Hemingway is afoot in McPhee's woods.
Henri Vaillancourt's personality and skill are seldom lost sight of throughout the book. McPhee is fascinated by his principal character and presents him to the reader as something of an enigma. Vaillancourt's consummate skill as a craftsman and his mastery of wood, bark, roots and their chemistry are contrasted with his stubborn insensitivity, brash assertiveness and blunt, monosyllabic parlance. A not entirely satisfying climax of the action takes place when Warren Elmer, a backpacking friend of the author, and possibly the best woodsman of the lot, at long last orders the hell-bent Vaillancourt to head for shore in a blow that is threatening to swamp the canoes.
It is, of course, all wrong that Vaillancourt should be making the decisions for the group, since he is unable to relax and enjoy whatever it is that brought them to the wilderness in the first place. He is impatient and driven and has turned the adventure into a task that must be gotten through as quickly as possible. A group will inevitably follow the man who knows or at least seems to know what he is doing. The problem here appears to have been the confusion of Vaillancourt's mastery of making and repairing bark canoes with the very different skill of deciding where to go in the wilderness and how best to enjoy getting there. As all sailors and lovers know, the quickest or most efficient way of doing things is seldom the most satisfying.
Readers interested in methods of building small craft will get an added dividend in The Survival of the Bark Canoe, as scattered throughout the text and in an appendix are a reasonably complete guide to construction methods, tools, materials and the step-by-step process involved in building a birchbark canoe. The appendix includes the sketches and models of Edwin Tappan Adney, who may be credited for much of what we know about this immemorial craft and whose lifelong accumulation of research Howard Chapelle made substantial use of in The Bark Canoes and Skin Boats of North America (1964).
Another interesting question raised by the book is the utility of what is considered an outmoded technology. Henri Vaillancourt insists that he is no advocate of primitive methods for their own sake, that he uses split roots because they work better than nails, screws or staples, and that he has no problem using asphalt cement as a sealant because it is as good as spruce gum, the traditional material, and less troublesome. Primitive technology, this book implies, promotes independence and self-reliance since it places a premium on skill and experience rather than upon sophisticated tools and materials. All a Henri Vaillancourt needs to repair or construct a canoe anywhere in the northern woods is an axe and a "crooked" knife. Clearly, modified traditional materials and methods are the most suitable for a do-it-yourself small craft enthusiast.
John McPhee and his companions ventured into the Maine woods following, literally and figuratively, the trail of Henry David Thoreau. For Thoreau, the wilderness is a metaphor of the inner life, reflecting in turn all moods and emotions. Writers as different as Hemingway and Faulkner have suggested that for those who are imaginative, venturesome and attentive, the wilderness has secrets to reveal as to an acolyte. At the very end of his story, MePhee returns to a motif that was introduced early in the book, the hope of coming upon a majestic moose. By this time, the reader understands that this quest has become symbolic, that the long-sought, huge, shy creature represents the spirit of the wilderness itself, the sort of experience accessible only to the initiate. Fifteen miles down a dirt and gravel road, with both canoes atop Vaillancourt's car, the weary sojourners are blinded in the dark of night by the headlights of an enormous on-coming logging truck. When Henri pulls to the side of the road, a form clatters by just inches from their car window. And, of course, it is the sacred totem itself, a bull moose, terrified and diminished by the monstrous truck.
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