The Community Word

The canvas was timeworn, and tattered; the wood… worn, brittle, and battered. But one thing time could not tarnish was an enduring beauty, grace, and symmetry. This weathered wooden canoe was a relic; a special gift from a special friend (and paddling partner) who is now in his 80’s.

After hauling it back to Peoria in April, I gave it a once over, and looked up the identification number on line. It appeared to have been made by Old Town Canoe Company, of Old Town Maine, some 96 years ago, around 1912. I sent the information, via snail mail, to Old Town. They still have records of each canoe’s history, when it was sold, and to whom. There may be some tidbit to help in restoration.

I have a special connection to this “antique,” even though it is considerably older than I. As a teen I paddled a wooden canoe (which I had restored), and since I received this one just after my 60th birthday, restoring it creates a link. Since the early 1970’s I’ve paddled many miles in canoes of fiberglass, Kevlar, or graphite. But there’s just something about those old wooden ones.

My goal isn’t just to prevent leakage. That could be easily accomplished with fiberglass. This century-old watercraft is an amalgamation of art and history, and with adequate TLC it will enhance a wilderness experience, in much the same way as will an old Pendleton wool shirt or a faded Mallory fedora, as a chill wind whispers through pines. Restoring it is part of the experience.

From the white cedar ribs to the red cedar planking and caned seats, the wooden canoe is in and of itself a part of the north woods landscape. Its comfortable familiarity is born of countless sojourns into the wild. It slips silently through placid water, and unobtrusively becomes part of the scenery.

Canoe travel is quintessentially American. It embodies a surprisingly recent time in our history before roads or infernal internal combustion engines. It represents more than freedom. It’s a vehicle in which to experience the wild without diminishing it. Its furtive presence means animals and people are less skittish. It is contemplative and calming, but also rugged and enduring.

Because you need not impact another person’s experience of solitude, it is in stark contrast to the “wreck” reaction that some practice when churning around on noisy polluting motorized contraptions so popular these days. In the words of Mahatma Gandhi, “There is more to life than increasing its speed.”

Recreation is essential to well being. It’s a key to “life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.” But it is a wide ranging concept. By definition it encompasses fun, playing, diversion, and amusement. We do such things as water-skiing, fishing, running, swimming, golf, photography, and art, as recreational activities. But there is an ineffable connection between restoration and recreation. To re-create is to restore. But what exactly are we restoring?

On the one hand we restore our energy levels to return to work or home, or just replenish peace of mind. On the other hand re-creation might restore a sort of context, way of life, sense of place, point of view, or spiritual connection to nature.

Conservationist, Aldo Leopold, in his seminal book, “A Sand County Almanac,” spoke of the essential quality of recreation: “Recreation is valuable in proportion to the intensity of its experience, and to the degree to which it differs from and contrasts with workaday life. By these criteria, mechanized outings are, at best, a milk-and-water affair.”

To Leopold, recreation is particularly valuable when we experience the Earth in a meaningful way; when we re-create age-old connections, as in self propelled travel. Canoeing is what Leopold referred to as a primitive art of wilderness travel. “I suppose some will wish to debate whether it is important to keep these primitive arts alive,” Leopold asserted, “I shall not debate it. Either you know it in your bones, or you are very, very old.”

My century old canoe embodies Leopold’s primitive art. First things first… to restore it, the challenge will be to remove all remnants of crusty canvas and vestigial varnish, stripping and sanding the wood and removing the gunnels, keel, and seats. Then the old wood will need to be treated, restored and protected (or replaced). Assuming it can be adequately oiled and reinforced, it can then be re-varnished. The next step is to recover it with new canvas, which is then waterproofed and painted. The gunnels are then re-attached, seats re-caned, and with luck, the old canoe will be resurrected. This should take a mere several to many months…

The next challenge is to put in practice those primitive arts of wilderness travel, taking this old canoe into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness is the ultimate goal. For a little while I’ll paddle back in time.

But those challenges are pale compared to the real challenge of the 21st century, which is ecological restoration. Our forests have been leveled; soils depleted; lakes and oceans polluted; ground water contaminated; entire species extirpated; and the atmosphere is being used as a dump for some 30 gigatons of human generated carbon per year, warming the entire planet. The Earth is looking pretty worn out and battered. But in the eyes of a restorationist, our depredations cannot obscure the enduring beauty and grace.

We need to commit to the project. It takes a village. After all, it took all of us to cause the problems. The challenges are many: put an end to our unsustainable and run-away population growth; remove remnants of pollution; clean up the rivers and lakes; replenish prairies and forests; remove carbon from the atmosphere… It will take quite a while, but a job worth doing is worth doing well.

“In a canoe a man changes and the life he has lived seems strangely remote. Time is no longer of moment, for he has become part of space and freedom. What matters is that he is heading down the misty trail of explorers and voyageurs, with a fair wind and a chance for a good camp somewhere ahead.” Sigurd F. Olson