What do Terry-Thomas and Huron Canoes have in common?  Forgive me for making an obscure cinematic reference to talk about wood-canvas canoes, but that’s just the way my mind works.

As a kid in the 1960’s, I loved watching movies on TV.  Amongst my favourites were odd-ball British comedies – many of which featured Terry-Thomas.  Besides his impeccable comic timing and outlandish accent, his claim to fame was evident every time he smiled.  Terry-Thomas made a career out of a feature that many people would try to hide or get rid of altogether.  He played off of his imperfections and we all learned to love “The Gap” – a space between his front teeth you could drive a truck (or should I say lorry) through.  The gap in his teeth was what made Terry-Thomas Terry-Thomas.  Without it, he loses much of his quirky comic charm.

It is not uncommon for me to get an anxious e-mail from someone who wants to know what to do about all the wide spaces between the planks in their Huron Canoe.  They complain that some of the gaps are as much as ¼” wide.  The main worry is that water will seep through the cracks and get trapped between the hull and the canvas resulting in damage to the canvas over the long-term.

In his attempts to "fill the gaps", the owner of this canoe threw everything he had at it. By the time he finished using silicon, epoxy and varnish, I was hard pressed to see any wood in the canoe.

Some people interpret the gaps as damage to the canoe that has to be “fixed”.  I have restored Huron canoes that people have attempted to “make water-tight”.  They fill the gaps with everything from silicon to epoxy and varnish (and sometimes all three).  Of course, all it does is make more work for the poor sole doing the restoration.

This Peterborough cedar strip canoe from 1921 is a wonderful display of craftsmanship. Building a hull like this required a great deal of time and skill. The use of canvas removed the need for water-tight planking in the canoe's hull thereby reducing the skill and time required to mass-produce canoes.

The whole idea in covering the canoe with canvas was to allow the production process to be faster.  The builders didn’t have to worry about a tight fit in the planking because the filled and painted canvas made the canoe waterproof.  Since the builders were not concerned about creating a water-tight hull, they were able to plank the canoe in a third the time required to construct an all-wood hull (for example, Peterborough Canoe Company cedar strip canoes).

As mentioned in last week’s blog article, water contacting the canvas from the inside is not a major threat as far as the longevity of the canvas is concerned. As long as the canoe is stored: 1) off the ground; 2) upside-down; 3) under cover; 4) in a cool space; 5) with good air circulation, the canvas will last for several decades before rot sets in.

Granted, Huron Canoes are a little rougher than average, which is precisely what I find appealing about them.  The gaps have absolutely no effect on the waterproof nature of the finished canoe.  The only real affect the gaps have on the canoe is a slightly rougher final finish when the canvas is painted.  However, just as with Terry-Thomas, the imperfections are what make Huron Canoes Huron Canoes.

If you have any concerns about the gaps between the planks in your Huron, I encourage you to accept it for what it is.  Embrace the gaps as part of what makes these canoes instantly recognizable.  Personally, I love the imperfect woodworking in Huron Canoes.  I also love the way they handle in the water – a true delight.

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Wood-canvas canoes, by their very nature, are subject to rot.  The problem is not entirely avoidable, but can be reduced.  Once every thirty years or so, damaged areas can be repaired.

Wood rot is caused by a number of fungi (Serpula lacrimans, Poria incrassata and Gleophyllum trabeum are among the most common).  The results turn solid wood brown and crumbly.  As you disassemble the canoe for inspection, affected areas break apart into cubes when disturbed.

These fungal spores are present almost constantly, but can only grow when certain conditions are present.  Wood rot fungi need three basic ingredients in order to grow: 1) water; 2) no air circulation; 3) a warm environment.

Parts of your canoe (such as the canvas under the outwales, stem-tops, rib-tops and inwale-ends) are normally covered and protected.  If these areas are allowed to stay warm and wet, they become prime environments for fungal growth – in other words, rot heaven.

Proper canoe storage prevents rot from attacking wood-canvas canoes. These canoes are stored off the ground, upside-down in a cool enclosure with lots of air circulation. The rack braces are built from 2x4 lumber while the racks are standard 1" steel pipe threaded through 3-foot sections of ABS pipe that act as rollers to ease loading and removal.

To prevent rot from forming in your canoe, store it upside-down off the ground in a cool place that has lots of air circulation.  A lean-to shelter next to the house makes an excellent canoe storage area as does a carport.

Proper storage of your canoe goes a long way to preventing rot.  Another step is to maintain the exposed wood with a fresh coat of spar varnish every year or two.  Spar varnish seals the wood and shields it from the invasion of water and fungal spores.  It is made by cooking an oil (usually tung oil, linseed oil or soybean oil) with a resin (usually an alkyd).  If used straight from the can, the high proportion of solids (resin) in the varnish result in a finish full of brush marks, bubbles and sags because it takes a long time for it to cure.  In order to get an even finish, varnish must be thinned with mineral spirits prior to application in order to reduce the curing time.  I add about one part paint thinner to seven or eight parts varnish (½ cup – 125 ml - thinner to a quart – 950 ml - of varnish).  In some high quality spar varnishes, more thinner is required to get the desired curing time.  Some manufacturers confuse the issue by selling products under a variety of names such as “Oil Finish”, “Wiping Varnish” or “Danish Oil”.  These are nothing more than thinned varnish.

When restoring your canoe, a number of things can be done to both repair the damage and prevent rot from developing in the future.

First, use an epoxy sealer to harden the wood in areas that are either already affected by rot or likely to rot at some point.  These sealers are either one-part wood hardeners or two-part epoxy sealers.  The fumes from these products are highly noxious, so be sure to wear a proper respirator.

Areas already rotted will break away and must be cut away before starting repairs.  Once you are back to solid wood, scarf in new wood and rebuild the affected area.

Once the repairs are complete, apply a combination of boiled linseed oil and turpentine to all exposed wood.  Linseed oil soaks into the wood and prevents water from absorbing into the canoe every time you take it out for a paddle.  I mix about one part turpentine to three parts oil.  A little note here: boiled linseed oil isn’t actually boiled.  It simply has drying agents added which allow the oil to dry in a couple of weeks.  If you used raw linseed oil, it would take a few decades to dry.  The application of linseed oil doesn’t stop water absorption completely, but it is a great preventative measure.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.

Attaching new outwales to a wood canvas canoe is not a particularly difficult or complex task.  However, there is a debate about the timing of this part of the process.  Do you attach the outwales before or after the canvas is painted?  The short, and somewhat cheeky, answer is: “Yes”.

When these canoes were mass-produced in large factories, the builders attached the outwales to the canoe as soon as the filler had dried.  They would then applied paint and varnish to complete the canoe.  The order of events had more to do with efficiency than anything else.  The disadvantage was that the canvas under the outwales was left unprotected by paint.  In the long run, even though the lead in the filler helped prevent rot, water would become trapped under the outwales. This damp, confined area eventually becomes a prime environment for rot.  When people bring their canoe to me for re-canvassing, the canvas has usually rotted along the sheer line under the outwales.

Since I don’t use lead in my filler, I prefer to protect all of the canvas with paint before the outwales are attached.  Some builders, like Jack Hurley in Dwight, Ontario, go the extra mile and apply varnish to the cut edge of the canvas before the outwales are attached.  Painting and varnishing before the outwales are attached, protects the outwales from rot.  I also apply shellac and varnish to the inside surface of the outwales.  The bottom line is that the more you protect wood and canvas from water that will inevitably become trapped, the more you protect your canoe from rot.  It is not a guarantee, but it all helps.  Since you are not under the gun of a production schedule, you can take the time to seal surfaces that would otherwise be left unprotected.

Once you have finished painting the canvas, put a new blade into your utility knife and trim the canvas flush with the top of planking.  In most canoes, this is ¼” below the rib-tops.  In Huron canoes, this is flush with the rib-tops as well as the top of the sheer line planking.  Take your time doing this.  It is best to err on the side of caution the first time around the canoe by cutting high and then trim exactly the second time around.  It is very easy to cut the canvas below the top of the sheer line planking.  You want to avoid this at all costs, so take your time.

New outwales are made of hardwood.  Usually they are the same as the original outwales which is normally either ash or mahogany.  One the are varnished and ready for installation, I put small pieces of masking tape on the top surface of the inwales to mark the locations of the screws that will hold the outwales to the canoe.  For the first four feet or so at each end of the canoe, screws are used at every second rib.  In the central body of the canoe, screws are placed at every third rib.  I mark the screw locations ahead of time to speed up the process later.  It also allows me to ensure that the screw locations are the same on both sides of the canoe.

I start by making sure the outwale will cover the entire side of the canoe once it is in place.  I clamp the outwale at the centre.  I then use a hardwood mallet to tap the outwale so that the top surface is flush with that of the inwale.

Be sure that the canvas is held smoothly against the hull as the outwale is clamped into place.  Trim it where necessary to create a canvas free of bulges or creases along the sheer line.

Pre-drill a pilot hole for the screw and counter-sink the hole so the screw will be secured below the surface of the outwale.  I use a combination drill bit and counter-sink to do this in one operation.  I centre this hole on the outwale (top to bottom) and centre it with the rib as well.  Throughout the rebuilding of the hull, I do my best to keep the central area of the rib-top free of fasteners.  When, as inevitably happens at least once in a canoe, I hit a fastener as I drill the pilot hole, I angle the hole slightly to create a clear path for the screw.

Use silicon-bronze screws (#8 – 1½” flat head) to attach the outwale to the canoe.  Often, I am able to re-use the original screws.  I save them when I disassemble the canoe because they are usually in very good condition.  Normally, these screws are square-drive (Robertson) screws.  When installing Greenwood or Old Town canoes, some clients insist that I use slot screws to match the originals.  However, I find them so much more difficult to use, I tend to use Robertson screws wherever possible.  A little side-note here: my cousin Patricia Elliott (nee Robertson) was the daughter of Peter Robertson, who invented the Robertson screw in 1908.

In most canoes, the sheer line sweeps up from the centre of the canoe to the ends in an even, graceful arc.  As a result, the outwale is attached with little difficulty.  In canoes such as the Chestnut Pal or the Peterborough Champlain, the outwales must be pre-bent over custom-built forms and pre-fitted to match the sharp up-turn in the sheer line about 18” from the ends of the canoe.  Fortunately, none of that is necessary in this Chestnut Prospector.

When the outwale is attached, use a sliding bevel to mark the angle in the cut-off at the ends.  Trim the ends. I use a Japanese utility saw (14 tpi) that cuts on the pull stroke.  Sand the ends smooth, then stain and varnish.  I also take the time to stain and varnish the newly exposed wood in all of the screw holes.  This is one of those little details that transform the project from great to spectacular.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.

Nobody wants a leaky canoe.  So, when you come to re-install the stem-bands, bring your full attention to the task.  Mind you, when restoring a canoe, this is nothing new.

The stem-bands are strips of half-oval metal used to protect the canvas seam along the outside face of the stems.  They are usually made of brass, but I have seen copper and aluminum used as well.

Brass is a combination of copper and zinc.  Most brass available today is about 63% copper and 37% zinc.  It is easy to bend when cold.  Original brass stem-bands, by comparison, contain about 69% copper, 1% tin and 30% zinc.  The addition of tin helps prevent the alloy from losing zinc when exposed to water for extended periods.  It is commonly referred to as naval brass.

Original brass stem-bands tend to be harder, heavier and when cold, more likely to break when bent.  Care must be taken when handling them.  The metal is very thin around the drilled and counter-sunk holes, so original stem-bands are easy to break.

Start the installation process by pre-fitting the stem-bands to the canoe.  Since they are being reattached in their original locations, they ought to sit nicely in place.  However, if the stem-band has been kinked or requires substantial bending to fit the canoe, use a propane torch to heat the metal before it is bent to fit.  Once the stem-band is back to the desired shape, quench the metal quickly with lots of water.

When installing original stem-bands on a canoe with new canvas, cut the canvas back from the stem at the top of the planking.  This gives you access to the stem-top.  I put a new blade in my utility knife and cut back about 2”.

With a putty knife apply a Marine Bedding Compound evenly to the inside surface of the stem-band.  This seals the area and prevents water from leaking in through the holes that are drilled along the stem.  I use Dolphinite which is an old-style, linseed oil-based compound that doesn’t harden.  I apply it right up to the top of the stem leaving bare the section of stem-band that runs along the top of the inwales to the deck.

Centre the end of the stem-band on the deck and drill a hole for the screw.  Huron stem-bands are ½” wide and use #6 screws while most other builders used 3/8” wide stem-bands and #4 screws.

Attach the top end of the stem-band to the deck.  I do a test hole in a scrap piece of hardwood to ensure that it is the correct size.  If the hole is too small, the silicon-bronze screws will snap as you attempt to screw them into the wood.  Too large, and the screws will pull out.

As you attach the stem-band, you must first centre it on the stem.  Then use a wooden mallet to flatten the band to the stem.  Since the stem-band has been pre-fit, the amount of cold bending done at this stage is of little concern.

For each hole along the stem-band, pre-drill and screw into place.  From time to time, you may encounter a brass tack along the stem.  If so, drill through it with a slow turn rate until the bit cuts through the tack.  Then continue with the regular drill speed.  For most locations along the stem-band, the screws are ¾” long.  Along the bottom of the canoe, you may feel the drill hit a space between the canvas and the stem.  In this case, use a 1” screw.

When the entire stem-band is screwed into place, use more bedding compound to fill any gaps.  Then scrape away the excess compound and ensure that there is a smooth surface between the stem-band and the canvas.  The top surface of the stem-band is then cleaned with a little lacquer thinner in a rag.

I like to show off the brass once the canoe is completed.  Therefore, the day after the final coat of paint is applied, I use a utility knife to scrape the paint from the stem-bands.  This will also remove any old paint or tarnish from the brass.  If you attempt to clean the brass before it is installed on the canoe, you may break the stem-band (the voice of experience is talking here).

Use extra fine steel wool to polish the brass.  Paint that is scuffed around the stem-bands can be touched up with a little extra paint and an artist’s brush.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.

What is it to be Canadian?  What makes us different from Americans?  As I watch Bill Mason’s “Path of the Paddle: Doubles Whitewater” (1977), I see something that has happened in Canada for thousands of years.  Two people communicating, negotiating, compromising and cooperating in order to move a canoe through an otherwise impenetrable landscape.

American culture was born of revolution.  Canadian culture was born of compromise.  When American explorers were struggling to get over the Appalachian Mountains, Canadian explorers were looking at the Rocky Mountains – from their canoes.  When American settlers wanted new land in the west, they moved in (with their army) and took what they wanted.  Meanwhile, the Canadian Shield made it impossible for armies to invade and take over.  Instead, Canadians turned to trade to communicate with Aboriginal nations, negotiate for what they wanted and then compromise and cooperate in order to maintain working relationships. 

Canoes were used to maintain trade in Canada for 300 years.  It took from 6 to 16 paddlers working as coordinated units to move huge trade canoes over 3,000 miles in less than two months.  As you can see in Bill Mason’s film, to paddle with another person (let alone 15 other people), you have to communicate, negotiate, compromise and cooperate.  As a result of 300 years of canoe-based trade in Canada, Canadian culture was molded by these characteristics of Aboriginal culture.

When you are one of 16 paddlers in a canoe, the interests of the group supersede those of the individual.  There is no room for a star in a canoe.  As a result, unlike in the United States, a star culture is not embraced in Canada.  Individual paddlers were known for extraordinary feats of strength, daring and heroism throughout three centuries of the Fur Trade in Canada.  However, they were viewed as simply doing what was required for the good of the group.  They viewed themselves as simply doing their job.  What has developed out of this, is a nation of work-a-day people who don’t like to blow their own horn.

All of this is illustrated beautifully in “Path of the Paddle: Doubles Whitewater”.  At the same time, I’m sure this aspect of the film was purely unintentional.  Still, the main thing that strikes me is the way Bill and Paul are communicating constantly.  At 7:20 minutes into the film, Paul’s concerns are delivered in a classic Canadian understatement, “Looks pretty tricky.”  Bill then narrates the situation in a low-key Canadian style, “It all adds up to an interesting problem.”  The maneuvers are animated for the audience and then performed on location by Bill and Paul.  It is a masterful display of paddling skill delivered in a matter-of-fact manner – Canadian culture pure and simple.

This film also displays a typical Canadian sense of humor.  At 23:40 minutes, Bill is patching what he refers to as a “scratch” in the canoe.  Paul replies, “If that’s a scratch, I’d hate to see what you call a hole.”  Bill counters by saying, “Well anyway, the hole is in my end, so don’t worry about it.”  It is low-key and self-effacing.  It is a style that is very much Canadian humor.

Although "Path of the Paddle: Doubles Whitewater" shows Bill Mason and his son, Paul, paddling a Chestnut Prospector for most of the film, some of the sequences (as in this picture) have them using a Chestnut Pal.

By the way, Bill again is free-wheeling in terms of continuity in the canoe used to tell this story.  Most of the film shows the two of them paddling a Chestnut Prospector through the Class 3 rapids of the Petawawa River.  However, some sequences have them paddling a Chestnut Pal.  Keep your eye on the seats in the canoe.  If they are slat seats, it is a Prospector.  If you see a seat frame and/or caned seats, it is a Pal.

So, sit back and enjoy seeing Canadian culture being played out in a wood-canvas canoe.

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In the third film of the series, “Path of the Paddle: Solo Whitewater”, Bill Mason treats us to a masterful display of paddling skill.  He weaves his Chestnut Pal through some very tricky rapids and, like any master, makes it look easy.

No doubt, Bill Mason was an expert paddler.  Mind you, for this film, he had the advantage of running the same set of rapids several times as the film crew shot the action from a variety of angles.  He then had the luxury of creating the perfect paddling run in the editing room.

I love watching the Chestnut Pal side-slip, ferry and take eddy turns with the greatest of ease.  Even so, it is obvious that the design of this canoe has its limits.  Class 3 rapids (3:35 minutes into the film) are, for the most part, too much from this “pleasure” canoe.  The sheer line stays low for most of its length and turns up fairly sharply about 18” from the ends.  When big waves hit the hull, they tend to wash into the canoe because tumblehome is present through its entire length.  As a result, at 4:15 minutes, Bill demonstrates how to empty a swamped canoe.  Since he made the film, tripping paddlers have taken to lashing packs securely into the canoe in order to use them as emergency floatation.

I really enjoy this film.  It covers every aspect of whitewater paddling clearly, concisely and with beautiful footage.  Bill does a great job of explaining the principles behind “reading” rapids.  And he doesn’t shy away from demonstrating what to do when things go wrong.  At 9:59 minutes, his Pal gets hung up broadside on a big rock in the river.  Anyone who says that wood-canvas canoes are fragile would do well to watch this sequence and think again.  Bill kept the upstream side of the canoe high and pushed his rugged, old Pal off leaving it relatively unscathed.  That said, I fully expect that some red paint was left behind on that rock.

Bill Mason used his Chestnut Pal throughout most of the filming of "Path of the Paddle", a series of four instructional films on the art of paddling a canoe. However, as in this picture, there is no mistaking the Chestnut Prospector with its high sides and sweeping sheer line.

At 13:12 minutes in the film, Bill discusses how the character and navigability of rapids change with changes in water volume.  He takes the Pal through a Class 2 rapid with no problem.  However, to demonstrate running the same rapid in Class 3 spring flood conditions (13:40 to 14:20 minutes), he takes his Chestnut Prospector through it (note the slat seats, wide ribs and high sides).  A number of design factors make the Prospector the canoe of choice for Bill in spring flood conditions.  The higher sides (14” as compared to the Pal’s 12”) keep waves from washing into the canoe.  The more progressive sheer line sweeps from a 14” depth at the centre to a 25” depth at the stem.  The hull shape also helps the Prospector stay dry through Class 3 rapids.  Four feet from the end of bow, where waves would normally break over the canoe, the hull is flared (and about 16.5” deep) to throw waves away.  For me, this film sequence really shows the performance difference between the Pal and the Prospector, even though Bill doesn’t address this in the film.

Near the end (23:50 to 26:15 minutes), Bill attempts a long, Class 3 rapid in his Pal.  The conditions are too much for it and the canoe is capsized.  It is important to bear in mind that Bill was wearing a wetsuit under his clothes for this sequence.  Again, it demonstrates just how resilient wood-canvas canoes are.  We watch the canoe, full of water and upside-down, bounce off several rocks.  Mind you, I can image the canoe in my restoration shop after that encounter.  Still, as long as you don’t mind a few bumps and bruisers in your canoe, the Pal can really take a beating.

I wish you all a very Happy New Year.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.

When Bill Mason made this series of films (1977), he didn’t worry too much about continuity.  At the beginning of “Path of the Paddle: Doubles Basic”, we see Bill and his son, Paul, paddling a Chestnut Prospector (0:37 minutes).  Note the slat seats, the high sides and the sweeping sheer line.  Just as we are getting ready to enjoy a full demonstration of what can be done with a Prospector on the water, the canoe suddenly transforms into a Chestnut Pal (5:40 minutes).  The bulk of the film shows how the Pal responds to two people taking it through its paces.

The original factory colour of a Chestnut Prospector was a light, lichen green that they called “grey”.  I’m almost certain that Bill painted his Prospector red just so that he could interchange footage of it and his old Chestnut Pal without too many concerns.

I enjoy watching this film mainly because it further demonstrates just what a capable canoe the Chestnut Pal is.  At 22:30 minutes into the film, Bill and Pal shift into the centre of the canoe in order to negotiate some sizeable waves on a big lake (probably Lake Superior).  Given the choice, I’d have taken the Prospector into those waves, but the lower profile of the Pal makes it easier to contend with the wind.

Paddling techniques have changed quite a bit since this film was made.  Whitewater kayaking techniques have changed the way we perform the stationary draw to turn the canoe into an eddy from the main current of a rapid river.  In this film, Paul demonstrates the traditional canoeing draw which involves leaning the whole torso out over the water (13:43 minutes and elsewhere).  These days, the same maneuver is performed by tilting the hull of the canoe by shifting weight to the paddle-side – keeping the paddler’s body centered inside the canoe.

One of the sequences I enjoy in this film is near the end (25:08 to 25:24).  Bill talks about the “bewildering array of canoes on the market today” and shows a bunch of canoes including a Chestnut Prospector, a fiberglass (Frontiersman?), an old Peterborough rib-and-batten all-wood canoe from the early 1900’s, an aluminum (Gruman?) and a Sportspal.  He then goes on to extol the virtues of the Chestnut Prospector wood-canvas canoe.  I don’t blame him at all.  In fact, who can argue with one of the best canoe designs ever conceived?  However, it gets a little confusing when, at 26:39 minutes, he describes the dimensions of the canoe (91 cm wide and 35 cm deep) while using a Chestnut Pal (91 cm wide and 30 cm deep) to illustrate them.  As I said, Bill didn’t worry too much about continuity.

So, enjoy the film and have a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.

Bill Mason’s first canoe was a Chestnut Pal that he bought in 1958.  The 16’ Pleasure canoe made by the Chestnut Canoe Company had just been changed from 34”-wide to 36”-wide and the name was changed from the Ajax to the Pal.  By the time Bill made his “Path of the Paddle” series of instructional canoe skills films (1977), his old Pal showed the signs of a life well lived.

In the first film of the series, “Path of the Paddle: Solo Basic”, Bill introduces the public-at-large to the art of paddling a canoe.  In 1977, it was a dying art and these films breathed new life into the world of canoes and canoeing.  For those who know their canoes, Bill seems to take delight in showing the world what the Chestnut Pal can do on the water.

Bill doesn’t discuss the canoe specifically.  However, there are many aspects of the canoe’s design that come to light as he demonstrates the basic skills.  For example, the Chestnut Pal has a keel.  Mind you, it is a shoe keel (2 ½” wide and 3/8” high) – designed more for protecting the bottom of the canoe than anything else.  It certainly doesn’t hinder the canoe’s ability to maneuver in the water.  Beginning at 13:19 minutes into the film, Bill demonstrates side-slipping – moving the canoe sideways in the water.  He explains and demonstrates how this is used to avoid rocks in a river.  He also shows how the Pal can move gracefully through Class 2 rapids.  It is not designed to handle rapids much beyond Class 2 rapids, but that doesn’t stop Bill.

The canoe has fine entry lines and a fair amount of rocker at the ends.  These combined with a shallow arch to the hull make for a very easy-paddling canoe.  The Pal also has a pleasing amount of tumblehome amidships.  This is the curve on the sides of the canoe as the inwales come in towards the centre of the canoe.  When a solo paddler sits over to one side of the canoe and nestles into that curve, the canoe tilts over on its side.  The waterline of the canoe then transforms the side of the canoe into the bottom.  Since the Pal is 36” wide, as it leans over to the side, the ends of the canoe lift out of the water.  This is seen clearly at 17:24 minutes into the film.  In this position, the actual length of the canoe in the water is reduced to about 12 feet.  As a result, the canoe turns very easily; a characteristic that is welcome in a wide variety of circumstances on lakes and rivers.

Almost every wood-canvas canoe that I can think of (except a V-stern canoe) is symmetrical in its design.  That is, both ends of the canoe have the same shape.  This allows paddling with equal efficiency regardless of which end is pointed forward.  The symmetry offers a versatility that is shown to be a great advantage at 18:44 minutes in the film.  When met with a strong head-wind, Bill simple reverses his position and paddles efficiently into the wind with the weight now placed in the bow (which was the stern a moment ago).

Actually, you’ll notice throughout the film, that the solo paddler sits on the bow seat facing the stern for most of the skills.  This is not possible in many modern canoes equipped with bucket seats.  There is a reason that “old-fashioned” canoes are designed the way they are.  A canoe is built to be used on lakes and rapid rivers both solo and with a partner.  Bucket seats are fine as long as the only paddling you do is in a straight line on flat water with two people paddling.  To my mind, a canoe is truly a canoe when it can be used in a wide variety of conditions – both solo and tandem.

The only modification I make to the traditional design of the Chestnut Pal (and other wood-canvas canoes) is to remove the 4” bolts holding the seats and replace them with 6” bolts and correspondingly longer spacers.  By hanging the seats 2” lower, the paddler has a much greater degree of stability (a centre of gravity below the top of the inwales).  At 3:03 minute in the film, Bill demonstrates sitting on the seat with his legs extended.  Note that he has to use a sculling brace to maintain stability.  It is amazing how much more stable that position is when the seats are 2” lower.  The seat is still high enough to allow the paddler to get his or her feet under the seat for regular paddling.

I love watching this film just to see the Chestnut Pal being taken through its paces.  So, take a few minutes (27:53 minutes to be exact) and enjoy this classic instructional film.  Merry Christmas to all.

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Bill Mason’s film, “Song of the Paddle” (1978), gives a glimpse into what binds people to their wood-canvas canoes.  Your life and health depend on the canoe’s ability to navigate rapid rivers and carve through meter-high waves on windy lakes.  When you put that much faith and trust in something or someone, a strong – almost unbreakable – bound is formed.

The film follows the Mason family on a canoe trip.  They encounter a full range of situations on this Northern Ontario adventure.  They watch a cow moose munching on water lilies in the shallows.  They dance through rapids in a river and then wade and portage the sections that can’t be navigated safely.  On Lake Superior, they get everything the lake can offer; from nasty head winds and fearsome waves, to vicious storms and finally a spinnaker run down-wind with two canoes lashed together.

The overall feel of the film is compelling.  I almost forget that one of the canoes is aluminum.  The other is a wood-canvas canoe.  At the start of the film (1:44 minutes in), an overhead shot reveals a cane bow seat and the shallow profile of a Chestnut Pal (a 16’ Chestnut pleasure canoe).  At 3:16 minutes into the film, a good, long head-on shot shows the sharp upward turn in the sheer line at the bow which is unmistakably that of a Pal.  That shot also illustrates the beautiful entry lines in the bow at the waterline that make this 36”-wide canoe an absolute delight to paddle.

However, for the rest of the film, the canoe that carries them effortlessly through rapids and waves is a 16’ Chestnut Prospector.  It is a deep canoe capable of carrying heavy loads.  The sheer line has a gradual, sweeping curve from the centre to the stem.  The seats are simple wooden (ash) slats instead of cane (the seats are seen clearly at 16:46 minutes into the film).

The wide variety of conditions encountered in the film give the Prospector ample opportunity to shine.  Bill Mason is often quoted as saying, “If I could have only one canoe, it would be the original Chestnut wood-canvas 16 ft. Prospector.”  In this film, it becomes clear as to why Bill sings its praises.  It is truly a versatile craft and a must-have for the traditionalist.  However, attempting a solo carry of this canoe in the midst of a Lake Superior wind storm (21:16 minutes into the film) is fool-hardy at best.  It seems to me that it best illustrates a typically male “I’m an idiot, but won’t dare to admit it” attitude.

So, sit back on this cold December day and watch this film with dreams of canoe trips yet-to-come dancing in your head.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.

In 1979, I worked as a Naturalist Interpreter at the Wye Marsh Wildlife Centre in Midland, Ontario.  I was one of five summer students hired by the Canadian Wildlife Service to operate the Centre for school groups and the general public from May to August that year.  We were offered excellent training and then given free reign to design and deliver programs that helped visitors make sense of the ecology of the region.  That summer job was one of the best I’ve ever had.

Like most jobs, there were aspects of working there that we did not look forward to.  Top on that list was cleaning the washroom three times a day.  Next, was presenting the film “The Rise and Fall of the Great Lakes” by Bill Mason (1968).  Don’t get me wrong.  I love that little 16 minute film.  However, watching it once a day, every day for four months takes the edge off a little.  Our copy of the film was faded and worn; full of scratches and definitely showing its age.

For those of you who haven’t seen it, the film follows a canoeist as he paddles through the life history of the Great Lakes.  The hapless paddler is at the mercy of the narrator/singer as he is subjected to instantaneous shifts from one stage of the life history to another – “bouncing like a tennis ball through time”.  In one classic scene, the paddler is enjoying a peaceful day on the water, then as the narrator sings about the Ice Age, his canoe is instantly frozen in deep snow in the middle of a blizzard (the kids always laughed at this point).  A minute later, the ice is gone and the paddler and his canoe fall a mile back to the water again (accompanied by another roar of laughter from the kids).

That summer, I met a guy who worked as a park warden in Gatineau Park, Quebec (just north of Ottawa).  He told me that Bill did some of the filming for that movie in Gatineau Park.  At one stage, Bill had a Chestnut Pal (equipped with a life-sized mannequin) dropped from a helicopter to get the scene of the paddler crashing back to the water from the top of a now-non-existent glacier.  Apparently, Bill went through about a half-dozen Chestnut Pals to make that film.  I like to think that some of them were rescued and restored to live another day on the lakes and rivers of Northern Ontario and Quebec.

Back in those days, I could be a source of annoyance for those around me when we went to the movie theatre (I could be a source of annoyance in lots of other settings, but that’s another story).  I would notice birds and/or bird songs that were out of context for the movie and, in a loud voice, let everyone know about the mistake.  For example, in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, Indiana Jones is hacking his way through the thick jungles of South America.  One of the exotic bird calls in the sequence is, in fact, a Willow Ptarmigan – a bird found in the barren tundra regions of Europe and North America.  I was fascinated by stuff like that.  However, my enthusiasm was rarely shared by others.

Now that I spend many of my waking hours in close contact with old wood-canvas canoes, I find myself watching a film like “The Rise and Fall of the Great Lakes” and noticing things on the canoe that need to be repaired.  For example, at 7:27 minutes into the movie, a close-up of the stern seat reveals that the cane is completely gone and has been replaced with a make-shift weaving of utility chord.  My, oh my, that will never do.  It’s time to get those seats fixed, Bill.  And I’ll bet you anything that the stem-ends are starting to rot and need to be rebuilt.

Alright, I’ll be quiet now.  Sit back and enjoy the movie.  Then, leave a comment here and let me know what you noticed in the movie.

Check out Kettle River Canoes.