Canoeing

Skip had the strong-back and stations all set up and ready to begin construction of a sixteen-foot cedar canoe. His plans called for the traditional method of building, by first steaming and bending ribs over the stations, in order to obtain the correct shape of the canoe. Once the ribs were completed it was time to steam the thin planking. This was followed by then bending and tacking each individual piece to the ribs. After that the wood was sanded. Eventually this would be covered with fabric and painted with a marine paint.

I have to give Skip credit because he had the ability and patience to make sure I did it right. After his canoe was finished, I assembled the cedar planks and sawed them into the correct sizes for ribs and planking, to build a similar style sixteen-foot canoe for myself. The main difference in our canoes was the fact that I chose to make my canoe lighter by using an airplane fabric, called Seconite. This was stretched as tightly as possible over the outside of the canoe, then tacked in place. Before it was removed from the stations, I took an electric flat iron and with the heat set on medium, proceeded to heat shrink the fabric tight so there were no wrinkles in the fabric. This had to be done very carefully in order to prevent tightening one side of the canoe more than the opposite side, which would cause it to be warped. Fortunately, this didn't happen and I finished the canoe by applying several coats of airplane dope for a permanent outside finish. The inside was finished with a natural marine varnish.

I used that canoe for several years before I decided to construct a cedar strip canoe that was becoming popular. Gil Gilpatrick, of Skowegan, Maine came out with a book entitled: "Building A Strip Canoe" which is very detailed and offers instructions, photos, and patterns for several types and styles of canoes.

After purchasing that book, I began building canoes. I eventually ended up building a ten and a half foot "Puddle Jumper", as I named it, a sixteen-foot flat water model and a sixteen-foot whitewater model, all for my own use. Skip also taught me to make his style of canoe paddles by using hand tools - hand hewing, rasping, and sanding them to shape.

I have used these canoes on many fishing trips as well as duck hunting trips. I have been fortunate enough to stay inside the canoes—except for one time, which I will describe later. There have been a few other close calls when I thought the canoe was going to roll over. I recall one year when Milton Inman and I went fishing at the "Big Eddy", which is a famous fishing spot for landlocked salmon. It is located at the lower end of a huge gorge, where huge waves of whitewater gush out into a pool on the west branch of the Penobscot River, below the outlet of Ripogenous Dam.

Milt and I had the bright idea if we could paddle our canoe backward up into the headwaters of that pool and throw out the anchor, we would be in an excellent location to cast our flies into some prime salmon waters. We launched my sixteen-foot flat-water canoe and by using all our strength, managed to get the canoe well up into the roaring white water. I quickly threw out the anchor, which amazingly held us in place---for a few seconds! The next thing we knew the canoe was being whipped back and forth by the tremendous turbulence as the whitewater came roaring out of the confines of the gorge!

Instead of casting flies with our fly rods, both Milt and I were hanging on to the gunnels trying our best to balance our bodies to keep the canoe upright! It didn't take long for us to realize we were in trouble and had to somehow get the anchor released so we could move downstream out of the fast whitewater. After several minutes of exceedingly tough efforts, we managed to release the mushroom anchor from whatever it was caught up on and floated rapidly to calmer water, none the worse for wear, but a whole lot wiser. This sixteen-foot flat-water canoe is the workhorse of the canoes that I use and it has proven to be a very dependable and safe craft for a period of many years.

I believe my favorite canoe is the little ten and a half-foot "Puddle Jumper". Why? Because it is light, (thirty-nine pounds), and can be easily portaged on a persons shoulders, making it an excellent watercraft to carry in to remote ponds. I made the center thwart in the shape of a neck yoke. To help pad it while carrying it, I wear my life vest. I tie both paddles to the canoe and place my backpack, containing my trout flies, fly reels, my lunch and other necessities, on my back. I tie the fly case to the boat seat, so that both hands are free to hold on to the gunnels while carrying the canoe. With the canoe so short, it is very easy to simply place the bow end of the canoe on the ground, and balance the canoe on that end when resting. To move on, simply ease the neck yoke onto your shoulders and resume walking.

Several times I have had friends ask if they could go in to a pond with me and go fishing? The only problem with this was that when the canoe was originally made, it had only one caned seat. It was very awkward for the second person to have to sit in the bottom of that small canoe. To compensate, I often had the second person carry along two boat cushions. These could be placed on top of one another, making an improvised seat. It wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but it was better than sitting in the bottom. Even though the canoe is short, it is very wide and paddles more like a wash tub than a canoe. That didn't bother me, because I was not racing up or down a huge body of water. Most of these remote ponds are relatively small and fly fishing is mostly stationary, occasionally moving only short distances if the fishing slows down in the area where I am fishing.

The "Puddle Jumper" is surprisingly stable, even with two persons in it. The canoe wasn't really built for two people but is seems as though more often than not, two of us would be using it. I finally wised up and constructed a second seat for the canoe. It only added very little weight, but it makes the seating much better for both fishermen. The one drawback of two persons fishing is the fact that it is too short for both parties to cast their fly lines at the same time. This has to be coordinated or fly lines will get tangled and tempers will get short. After fishing together for awhile, this comes sort of automatically, without too much direct thought being required of either fisherman. A few years ago I purchased a two-wheeled canoe carrier because I thought at my age, this was a smart thing to do. The main problem with the carrier is the fact that it requires a trail wide enough for the wheels to roll, so it cannot be used to access some of the more remote ponds.

My sons and I own a parcel of wet lands, adjacent to the Little Androscoggin River in West Paris. We have several duck nesting boxes located along that stretch of river. One year, during October, I decided to replace the shavings in the nesting boxes. It was duck hunting season, so I took my twenty-gauge, double barrel shotgun with me in the sixteen-foot flat-water canoe. Besides the shotgun, I carried a short stepladder, a grain bag full of dry shavings and my canoe paddle.

I launched the canoe into the river and headed downstream, making stops along the way to check and refurbish the duck nesting boxes making sure they were water tight and replacing the shavings inside the boxes. Things went very well until I arrived at the last nesting box that I had to check. I paddled the bow of the canoe up onto a fairly steep banking and before I attempted to go ashore, I placed my canoe paddle across the gunnels of the canoe just behind the rear seat. I carefully walked towards the bow holding onto each side of the gunnels to be sure that I wouldn't tip the canoe. I heard a noise behind me and saw that the paddle had slipped into the river and was slowly moving downstream in the current. I moved to the back seat then reached out to grab the paddle. I stretched my arms a bit too far and instantly, I was standing in water clear up to my chin! Worse than that, my loaded twenty gauge, double barrel shotgun was somewhere on the bottom of the river! I managed to wade and crawl up the steep incline along the shoreline and immediately pulled the overturned canoe up onto shore. Then I turned it over and salvaged those things that were still in the canoe.

Luckily, it wasn't that cold and I decided there was no need for me to have to go home to get dry clothes. I did, however, remove my wet clothes and squeezed the water out of them as best I could. All the while I was doing this, I was wondering how and what I would have to do to retrieve the shotgun. One thing for sure, I was not planning to dive down into that cold water to see if I could pick it up off bottom. That would only happen as a last resort.

I decided the first thing I should do was to cut off a stick and drive it into the river bottom in as close proximity as I could to mark the spot where the canoe rolled over.
I didn't want to have to drive all the way to my cottage in Woodstock to get something to try to retrieve the shotgun, so I decided to go see if my friend, Vince Stevens, was home. I canoed upstream and then drove my truck to West Paris.

Vince was home and I asked him if he had a rake or possibly a potato digger that I could borrow. Vince had both, so I took the potato digger and headed back down to find the shotgun. In a few minutes I was located right on the downstream side of the stick that I used to mark the spot where the canoe tipped over. The only difference was that this time I tied the rope on the bow of the canoe to a bush on shore and kept the canoe completely in the river, along the edge of the shoreline.

Now I was ready to locate the shotgun about five feet below the canoe. I grabbed the potato digger by the tip of the handle and slowly began to move it around the area where I had placed the stick. I knew if I could make contact with the tines on the digger and with the metal on the shotgun, it should make a metallic "clunk". This is just what happened!. Now, at least, I knew the proximity of the shotgun.

I stepped ashore and cut another long pole. Then I set as close as I could to the area where I heard the digger strike the shotgun. I slowly repeated the process of "feeling" the bottom. Soon I found the shotgun and kept working the potato digger along the metal of what I figured to be the barrel of the gun. With this completed, I knew the direction the shotgun was lying on bottom. I moved the digger back toward the end where the trigger guard was located and began to slowly move the tines in that area hoping to get one of the individual tines to pass through the trigger guard.

Soon I felt something heavier on the potato digger, so I ever so slowly began to pull up on the handle. In a short time the butt of the shotgun protruded out of the water. I was moving the gun upward very slowly because I had no idea where the tine had grabbed the shotgun. Finally, I saw that the tine was inside the trigger guard, behind the trigger! I grabbed the shotgun and gave a big sigh of relief! Of course, the safety was in the "on" position, but just the same I felt a whole lot better when I unloaded my shotgun.

You might think that a person with the years of canoeing experience that I have enjoyed would never have done such foolish things. First, by paddling the bow of the canoe up onto the steep embankment. Second, by reaching out so far to grab the paddle that was floating downstream. Generally, it's our own stupid mistakes that bring on our troubles and this certainly is the case with me

One year Leon Baker and I were duck hunting on a bog. Two ducks flew over and we both fired our shotguns at them. I know I hit the one I fired at because I saw it begin descending towards the water. With those shots fired simultaneously, the canoe nearly tipped over. Both Leon and I were so busy trying to stay in the canoe that neither of us saw where the ducks landed. It was a close call but we managed to stay dry.

That same day, we saw a father and son go paddling by us, as they moved to another part of the bog to hunt. It was about mid-morning when we heard a shotgun blast. We looked for ducks, but saw none. Shortly after, we heard the father talking quite loudly and soon after that the canoe came into our view. The youngster was bailing water, while the father was paddling the canoe with fast strokes. A short time later they came back and the father explained the boy accidentally shot a hole through the canoe. They went ashore and repaired the hole with duct tape but the boy didn't bring his shotgun back with him.

For the past few years, Kayaks have gained in popularity but still canoes have a certain niche from any other type of watercraft. Recently I saw a lady who was paddling her small canoe with a kayak paddle. I tried it with my "Puddle Jumper' canoe and it worked great. I have often said that rowing a short and wide canoe is similar to rowing a washtub. Using the kayak paddle saves a lot of work while paddling a short canoe and for some reason, it seems to move along with less turning or weaving. We're never too old to learn new tricks, especially when those tricks are for the better.

The sixteen-foot white water canoe is the most stable of those canoes that I use. It is wider and has more "rocker" on each end. As a matter of fact the front and rear of this canoe are a foot above the gunnels at the middle of the canoe. This canoe has an inside keel to make the bottom more rigid but it has no outside keel. This enables it to be easily moved sideways across the current when floating down rivers. It can be used on flat water but it takes some practice to get used to using it this way. The strokes and handling of this canoe on flat water are completely different than using a canoe with an outside keel. I do not use this canoe as much as I did when I was younger. My wife tells me I should part with it. Whether I do or not, remains to be seen. The last time I used it, three of us floated down the Androscoggin River from Gilead to West Bethel. It was a fun trip, although we didn't get any ducks. We saw a variety of game on the islands in the river.

One thing for sure, the canoes are available for me to use, so I am fortunate in that respect. For several years, I owned a seventeen foot Grumman canoe in Florida but most of my friends became too old and lost interest in using it. I traded vehicles, so transporting that canoe posed a problem. I sold it at a yard sale. Still, I hate to think of the day when canoeing will become a thing of my past. Right now I'm not ready to "Hang up my paddles."