CHAPTER
II.
CANOE CRUISING
THERE are two kinds
of canoe cruises, both of them splendid outdoor
recreations for boys, the lake and river cruise in the
open canoe, with the paddle as motive power, and the
decked sailing canoe where the paddle is of secondary
importance and a pair of batwing sails eats up the
miles of distance between you and your destination.
Both are fine sport, and both constitute the easiest
form of travel in the open. Do not take sails on a
canoe cruise unless you are going to have plenty of
use for them, as they are heavy and much in the way in
stowing duffle; and do not take an ounce more weight
in any case than is positively necessary.
I would set a limit of fifty pounds of belongings
to every man on the trip. Even if there are only
trifling portages, such as lifting over down trees,
around obstructions on the banks or over dam sites,
too much duffle becomes a burden, and when afloat its
weight brings the canoe dangerously low down in the
water and puts a lot of work in paddling on the
voyageur's shoulders. The same canoe that will fly
along like a fairy when properly loaded will act like
a submerged turtle when just a wee bit overloaded. And
it is so easy to take too much!
 IN
CAMP IN A DECKED CRUISING CANOE
One of my first canoe trips was
nearly spoilt by just this duffle trouble. We both
swore ourselves black in the face that not a pound
extra would be taken, but this is what we actually did
take : -- For guns we took the shotguns as a matter of
course, and, as if that was not enough, the rifles
also, in case any long range shots might offer, and
then, piled on that, a revolver each for snakes and
turtles, ammunition in generous quantities for the
three, -- let's see, that makes 26 pounds of extra
useless weight, not counting the shotguns, which are
doubtful commodities in a summer trip and apt to get
you into trouble with game wardens, as snipe are the
only game birds shootable in September when we went;
then, as we might have a few miles sailing, we took
along the sails, 25 pounds more, mostly in the way,
and only used once, for we had headwinds on all the
other open stretches; then we took along a sack of
potatoes when we knew well we would pass lots of
farms, another useless 20 pounds of weight -- the
wonder to me is that she floated at all when we set
forth!
As it was she had just three inches of freeboard,
and was as logy as a water-soaked tree trunk. Well, we
had a strong northwest wind to face the first thing;
five miles of it. Did we hoist the sails and tack? We
tried it, but made as much leeway as headway and
finally ended by paddling the whole distance, arriving
by nightfall where we had allowed to reach in but
three hours on the schedule. All the blankets, etc.,
were soaking wet, from water shipped aboard off the
whitecaps, and we were half the night drying them out
so that we could get off to sleep.
Our first portage was a hummer! Only around a dam,
a few hundred feet, but it took five trips to do it --
firearms, bedding, grub, cook outfit, tent and sails
(now soaking wet, and all weighing twice what they
would dry). Again tribulation camped on our trail when
we struck long reaches of shallow water. She drew so
much that we both had to get out and wade, towing her
up stream. The end of the second day saw eleven miles
of progress and 150 miles to go. On the third day we
passed under a railroad bridge, went into camp and
shipped back home by express the sails, guns,
ammunition and spuds, and kept only the fishing
tackle, tent, bedding and cook outfit, with a few
provisions. Then we made easy progress, but our bad
start had cost us two days' fishing at the lake which
we were headed for.
This little sketch of how not to do it brings to
mind several points taught us by hard experience. In
the first place everything in a canoe that water can
hurt must go in a waterproof duffle bag, either
side-opening or end-opening. For clothing, blankets,
tent, etc., the 11 x 24-inch brown waterproof
end-opening duffle bag costing a dollar is the thing.
It will take folded blankets and tents easily and they
can be pulled out without trouble. For food the
side-opening bag 8 x 22 inches, with rows of pockets
inside, is the thing. When you go ashore for the night
campment, drive in two upright stakes to windward of
your cook fire and hang up this bag by the grommet
holes in the lip, put there for that purpose.
All your main food sacks are now in plain sight, in
rows along the bottom of the kitchen bag, where each
can be chucked back as used; and in the pockets are
small bags of salt, tea, baking powder, soup powders,
etc., while the knives, forks, spoons, chain pothooks
and the like are handy in the top pockets. This duffle
bag has a stout maple rod sewed into one lip, and to
fasten it up you roll the other lip around this rod
until the bag is rolled tight and then secure with
rope around the bag or a pair of school book straps.
As these side-opening bags are rather expensive to buy
I will give you the way to make them yourself.
Get a yard of ten-ounce brown paraffined duck
canvas at a ship chandlers or awning maker's. It costs
forty cents a yard, and comes 28 inches wide. Cut off
an eight-inch strip along one edge and out of this
strip make two circular ends for your bag, 8 inches in
diameter.
Get a 1/2-inch maple dowel from a pattern shop or
department store or hardware store, and cut it 20
inches long. Sew a hem along both lips of your bag,
and slip the rod into one lip and secure by sewing
over the end of the hem. Now sew the circular ends
half around to the side of your bag and fill in the
rest of the space with a khaki end-cloth as shown in
the pattern, finishing the whole thing with an edging
of gray tape. Sew inside two khaki strips 8 inches
wide by 30 inches long, to make two rows of three
pockets each. Each pocket is 8 inches wide and will
take ten inches of your cloth, the back of the pocket
being the wall of the bag. Put two school straps
around the bag, about a foot apart, and join with a
strap riveted around each of the two straps to make a
carrying handle, or else just get a ten-cent shawl
strap at the five-and-ten-cent store and use it in
lieu of the school-book straps. Total cost: canvas, 40
cents, khaki, 20 cents, shawl straps, 10 cents; all
together, 70 cents.
One bag will hold all the food four men will need
on a week's canoe trip, and keep it dry and handy to
use. For food sacks the standard sack for bulk food is
8-inch diameter by 10-inch depth, and they cost
fifteen cents each. To make them yourself get from a
sporting-goods store two yards of paraffined muslin,
cut out eight-inch round bottoms, and 10-inch high by
24-inch circumference sides, sewing the sides around
the bottoms and turning inside out. It can all be done
on a domestic sewing machine, using a heavy needle and
number 40 cotton. Finish the food sacks with a foot of
white tape, sewed up near the top of the bag for a
tie-string.
You will also need three plain rectangular 4-inch
by 9-inch bags, and four small 3-inch by 6-inch bags
of the same paraffined muslin. To make paraffined
muslin yourself, buy the ordinary unbleached muslin
and steep in a mixture of a pint of turpentine with
two bricks of paraffin dissolved in it. It will not
dissolve cold, but if your tin can of turpentine is
warmed in a kettle of hot water it will dissolve the
paraffin readily. Hang the muslin out to dry after
soaking in the solution.
THE
SIDE-OPENING GRUB BAG
The large food bags are to be marked
RICE, FLOUR, SUGAR, OATMEAL; the 9 x 4's, CORN MEAL,
PRUNES, COFFEE, PANCAKE FLOUR; and the small 3 by 6's,
TEA, COCOA, SALT, RAISINS. Milk goes in its own cans
of evaporated cream; eggs, in a 3 by 5-inch tin can
with friction top (holds 14 fresh eggs broken into
it); potatoes and onions in an ordinary muslin flour
sack; meat, bacon, butter, etc., in 8-inch friction
top tin cans, costing 25 cents each, two will be
plenty. All these provision sacks except the spud sack
will go in the side opening grub bag; will weigh, all
told, for a week's cruise, about thirty pounds and
will make about 150 pounds of cooked food. Rain and
spray, upsets and hard knocks will then make no
difference to the grub pile; it is the only way to
stow and carry food in a canoe.
The cook kit to be taken along may be any of the
well-known outfits, such as the nesting aluminum set
for four, the Forester, Stopple, Boy Scout, etc., or
it may be plain set of nesting tin pails, three of
them one inside the other, a couple of fry pans and
some 7 by 2-inch tin mixing and baking pans. Each man
has his individual table set, of knife, fork, and
spoon, cup, and nine-inch tin or aluminum plate, and
you will want a wire grate and a folding reflector
baker or an aluminum one with cover on which a fire
can be built like a Dutch oven. The wire grate should
have a cloth bag to pack in as it gets very sooty and
will soon get the rest of the things in the canoe
dirty if uncovered. For a tent there are several
special canoe types on the market, the Hudson Bay, Dan
Beard, Canoe Tent, and Forester being four types that
have made good on long canoe trips where each night a
new camp is made. You want something quickly and
easily put up, with a few pegs and few poles.
DAN
BEARD OR CAMP-FIRE TENT
THE
FORESTER TENT
THE
PERFECT SHELTER TENT
THE
CANOE TARP CAMP
Canoe-cruise regulations call for a
heavy meal at breakfast, an all-day paddle with a bite
of lunch eaten in the canoe at midday, and a rousing
feed at night. One usually looks out for a good site
and a spring along about four o'clock, as camping and
cooking after dark is a nuisance and takes away the
pleasure of the cruise. Wherefore you want a tent that
can be quickly put up, almost anywhere.
The Hudson Bay tent calls for a handy tree and a
pair of shears in front (for it is too much to ask, to
expect two trees to grow just the right distance apart
at the right place, with a level bit of ground in
between them!). The Canoe tent needs one short pole
and two long rear stakes; and the Forester, three
ten-foot saplings. These are easy to find in any
thicket along a lake or stream bank. All three tents
take eight to ten short pegs, and are put up in ten to
fifteen minutes time. Never pitch on a sloping ground
site unless the slope runs from head to foot of the
tent, a side slope is very uncomfortable to sleep on
and the boy furthest uphill will be continually
rolling down on the others in his sleep. One man can
put up the tent, while the others get night wood,
water for the cookee and browse for the tent
bottoms.
GETTING
BREAKFAST IN THE CANOE TARP CAMP
The man elected cook sets about
preparing the evening meal. He will need about 45
minutes to do a good job, and will want good hot woods
to do it with, so see that he has plenty of dry, hard
maple, blackjack oak, white oak, pignut hickory and
white birch to do with. The surest way to have a slow
meal that is forever cooking, is to give the cook any
old dry trash wood, such as balsam and pine. There is
little heat in them, they are "out" most of the time,
and the pot is forever boiling. But blackjack and
maple will not only start the pots up in no time but
their coals will keep them going after the flames have
subsided. Get the boiled things going first, the pots
over the fire amid the flames, and the potatoes and
onions peeled into the ''mulligan", a handful of rice
added and some salt, and you can put the cover on and
let her simmer.
Add soup meat if you have it, or grouse breasts,
chunks of deer meat, cut up rabbit, any old meat
component; add a bouillon cube for each man when the
stew is nearly done, thirty-five minutes later, and
she will taste fine and keep you in good health. Fry
your fish dipped in egg and rolled in corn meal and
set some one to tending the fry pan over a bed of
coals while you make up the corn bread batter, squaw
bread dough, or doughgods. These require for a hot
high fire a couple of blazing logs lifted up off the
main fire and set on the edge of the wire grate, and
the baking tin is then put under them on top of some
coals, or the reflector baker, with its pan full of
biscuits, is set in front of them. Boil rice in the
other pot, and tea in the pail. For breakfast use your
flapjack flour for pancakes, and have coffee, fish
fried in bacon grease with bacon on the side, and
potatoes cubed and creamed. Plenty of these, with lots
of fruit, will run you all day long.
READY
TO GO OVERBOARD AGAIN
Aim to get the canoes in the water
by eight o'clock, stop paddling about noon for an hour
to serve a cold lunch of ham or sardines with
chocolate, cheese, raisins, nuts, and some Graham
crackers, and be on your way again in an hour. At four
the definite stop for the day is made. Pick a good
site, on a point if possible to get away from flies
and mosquitoes, and be sure to pitch somewhere near a
spring. Any river that is inhabited, -- that is, has
farms and small towns on its banks, -- is unsafe to
use for drinking or cooking water. My twelve-year-old
boy got a case of typhoid fever from one of our canoe
cruises, where there was but one town on the river
bank. The rest of us were badly physicked and just
missed typhoid, but he had a severe case which nearly
cost him his life. Since then I have always insisted
on a spring for water or else boiled it before using.
And, by the same token, refrain from dipping up the
river water in a cup and drinking it, unless the river
is wholly wild, like the Allagash in Maine, or the
Lumbee in North Carolina, or Wading River in New
Jersey, all of which streams give fine canoe trips.
In lieu of a sail, a good thing to take along is a
tarp for a floor cloth made of some light waterproof
tent textile. If you have a mast step screwed to
several ribs of your canoe, and a detachable cross
bar, with a two-inch hole in it for a mast hole, and
two brass hooks with wing nuts to secure the cross
rail to the gunwale, you can easily cut spars at the
lake bank and rig the "tarp" as a sail when you have a
long downwind traverse to make. Without the step and
bar it is rather awkward to rig anything that will
stand wind pressure and not become dangerous from
coming adrift and upsetting the canoe in a gust. In
making any traverse, study your weather and white caps
before venturing out, for it is braver to say "No!"
and stay ashore windbound than to be foolhardy and go
out and get swamped. If you must make the traverse and
the waves are high, do it with canoe lightly loaded in
two trips, as a logy, heavily loaded canoe is a
dangerous thing in choppy seas.
In river work, haul her over logs, down trees and
the like by getting out on the log, one on each side,
and sliding the canoe over between you with the duffle
aboard. In navigating rivers keep cutting across the
heads of bends, the bow man anticipating the river at
each bend and getting the canoe headed for the
shallows, when the stern man can then exert his
strength and shove her ahead. Keep out of the full
force of the current in the bends; it only makes you
paddle twice as far and hard, and the force of the
current is always throwing your canoe broadside onto
alders and rocks in the elbow of the bends. In running
a rapids, be first sure that they are safe, as they
change almost daily with the height of water. Look for
a portage trail if you know nothing about the rapids
and if there is a landing above the rapids, with a
clearly defined trail through the forest, it is a safe
bet that the rapids are dangerous and have been
portaged by better men than you. In running white
water the stern man has the say and the bow man should
not embarrass him by attempting to fend off with the
paddle, etc. Only do this when it is clearly evident
that the stern man has not control enough to prevent
her ramming. As a rule, the water parting around a
rock will carry her bow clear if the stern man guides
her and sees that the stern follows clear.
In general, back paddle so that the current flows
faster than the canoe is going, and let her down easy
at the difficult spots. In any event, keep out of the
main force of the current if there is an easier
passage, and always go along a rapids on foot ashore
before running it. In many rivers and broad creeks
there is plenty of white water not dangerous, only
exciting. Follow the current where it is clearest of
rocks, and, in passing one, back the stern of the
canoe away from the rock, letting the current carry
the bow clear. In all rapids running the duffle should
be lashed in by your tracking line; in traversing a
lake everything should be free and clear, as you may
need to empty her in a hurry. In both cases stick to
the canoe in case of upset, get her ashore in the
rapids, and dump the water out of her in the lake,
letting the duffle float where it will until the canoe
is ready again.
In both cases the paddles should be lashed to the
canoe with about six feet of cotton rope, as they may
be your only hold on the canoe, and if she once drifts
away from you in a lake you are lost. Two men treading
water can lift a canoe clear enough to turn out most
of the water, and then can get aboard from bow and
stern simultaneously, being careful to jump at the
same moment so as to balance the weight.
One man alone can hardly empty a canoe unless over
sixteen years of age and husky. If strong enough you
can rock it out, or "shove" it out, either by swashing
it from side to side, letting it slop out, or by
giving it smart shoves to and from you, when the
momentum of the water will slop it out over bow and
stern alternately. A boy of twelve is not strong
enough to do this and had best get inside the canoe
and lie down in her awash. She will not sink, but will
lie with about an inch of gunwale exposed. Keeping her
on an even keel, the water can be dashed out of her if
reasonably calm, but with a sea on the best way is to
go astern and kick her ashore, climbing in and lying
down in her when tired. Sooner or later she will drift
ashore. Keep cool, play safe and do not start anything
rash that you may not be able to finish. The canoe
will always float herself and you, and if not too cold
you will arrive safely in time, even if you have a
mile or so to drift.
In river travel the banks are near, and if you
stick to the canoe no eddy can pull you under. As a
matter of fact upsets are extremely infrequent in
canoe travel. I have yet to have my first one in over
thirty years of canoeing in river trips, and in my
sailing canoes have but three upsets in all that time
to record.
The second great branch of canoeing is that of
canoe sailing in the great open bays and lakes, where
the wind is too strong and the seas too heavy for an
open type canoe to live. The wooden-decked sailing
canoe has always been a popular "poor man's yacht,"
but for boys she is so heavy to paddle that until you
get sixteen years or over it is too hard work to be
fun.
However, we boys did not let that worry us. We
built decked canvas-covered sailing canoes that
weighed about forty pounds, and had two sails,
mainsail and jigger, and they could beat anything of
their inches that carried canvas, and live in a sea
that sent big catboats into harbor with three reefs in
their sails. These craft I built four of; my chums two
or three apiece, and, for long cruises down the great
saltwater bays of the Atlantic Coast, sleeping in the
canoe every night, they were simply Jim Dandy!
Thirteen feet long by 32 inches beam and a foot
deep was the preferred size, with a six-foot cockpit
in which you could sleep when the canoe was hauled out
on the beach and the sand banked up around her.
Contrary to the general impression spread by writers
who do not know, the canvas-covered canoe is not "limp
and logy"; instead she is fast and lively; she will
not sink when capsized, but will keep herself afloat
and you, too. And she paddles like a bird with the
double-blade paddle, which the wooden sailing canoe
would never do on a boy's strength.
THE
Varmint UNDER FULL SAIL
We cruised in ours for weeks at a
time. Sometimes it would be but a day's expedition up
some big salt marsh creek after railbirds and snipe;
other, it would be a fishing trip down the bay to some
favorite bank, where the canoe would be moored to an
oyster stake while its crew attended to the fish
market; again it would be an extended consort cruise
of two or more of these canoes, when both of them
would be hauled out on the beach and the cockpit tents
set up, while a board running from one canoe to the
other would make the eating table. Many a night have I
dozed off to sleep with the strong salt breeze
strumming through the guy ropes of my canoe cockpit
tent, the mosquitoes humming a lively tune outside,
while within there would be solid comfort from the
muslin mattress filled with fragrant sage and making
the round contours of the canoe as comfortable as your
bed at home. I have paddled out into a roaring sea
that even a large sloop would respect, in those able
little decked canvas canoes, setting up a rag of sail
and beating to windward like a flying fish, and only
once in hundreds of miles of such canoeing have I been
upset.
It was during a squally northwest blow and I was
snipe shooting on Marsh Point on the Raritan. I got
thirsty and so set sails for the opposite shore a mile
away where I knew there was a spring of iron water,
highly prized by us boys because we believed that
drinking it would make us strong! As the tide was
running out strongly it took several tacks to make up
for the drift in getting across, and in one of them my
rudder jammed. Its regular pin had been lost and it
was therefore hung with a couple of makeshift copper
lashings to the screw eyes. At every other gust the
canoe was knocked down to her cockpit coaming, but
that was nothing unusual, -- one simply jammed one's
toes under the lee rail and hiked out over the pickle!
But this rudder jamming was another matter; I couldn't
steer now, except with a paddle blade, which is nix in
a decked canoe, as it will not let you hang out to
windward when the gusts come.
Several times I was nearly unbalanced by the
knockdown puffs, and finally one got me and I was
pitched bodily overboard to leeward, taking the canoe
with me. I remember leaping headlong into my own
mainsail, and then a smother of salt water. When I
came up, the first thing I noticed was my precious
moccasins wavering down through the water. They had
come off my feet while doing the dive into the
mainsail. I dove for them with both eyes open, and got
them both by great good luck. Next I felt inside the
canoe for my gun; it was lashed in securely, thank
goodness! Then I loosened both main and mizzen
halyards and unstepped the masts, which released the
canoe so I could right her.
The next stunt was to roll up the two sails and
stow them inboard, and then go swimming after the
paddles. I was a great little retriever, and soon had
all the canoe belongings back in the cockpit, which
was awash in the whitecaps. I was half a mile from
shore, and so I went astern and turned myself into a
human propeller, so that, helped by the strong wind
and sea, I had soon kicked her where I could touch
bottom and begin to wade with her. A fish hawk had
been following me interestedly, and now he swooped
down and flew off with a white package left behind in
my wake. I suddenly realized that that was my package
of lunch he was making off with, with all my
sandwiches in it! A frantic grab for the gun was
futile, as he was already out of range -- I owe that
fish hawk a grudge to this day!
However, there were two hard-boiled eggs and a
couple of boiled crabs in the canoe, and so, taking
off all my clothes and spreading them abroad in the
marsh, I sat down on the paddles to a lunch of egg and
crab while the clothes dried out. About four o'clock
the snipe came up the marsh in great flocks of fifty
or a hundred apiece and I had some royal shooting. It
was too dark to see the gun sights and the shells all
shot before I was ready to go home. Outside the
drawbridge to the open sea, the waves were high, as I
could tell by the big, smooth swells in the river, but
she shot through the draw in great shape under paddle
alone and made the two-mile trip in the dark, open sea
without incident, hurdling the big whitecaps like a
huntsman. A great little boat !
I use the mate to her now, and in one of these
chapters will tell you how to build one for yourself
at a cost of $7.50, complete. In paddling against a
headwind with such a craft you had best leave the
dandy up, as it not only keeps her head staunch to the
wind, but every side puff fills the dandy and you can
just feel her shoving you along!
DETAILS
OF STEM AND STERN CONSTRUCTION Waterat IV
STEM CONSTRUCTION
Click
here for larger image of stem.
STERN CONSTRUCTION
Click
here for larger image of stern.
In the paddling canoe with sail I have had two
upsets in thirty years, one of which was in a howling
southeast gale when we ran aground on a point and she
turned a somersault over her own leeboards; and the
other was in a squally northwest wind when I was
navigating a narrow, crooked lake under sail. While
the canoe was ''in stays,'' -- that is, luffing and
coming about on another tack -- a sudden gust blew out
of the wall of forest, broadside on, and knocked her
over as if you had struck her with a giant hand!
No amount of seamanship could have avoided this, as
the sail was perfectly loose and free, but a broadside
gust from an entirely different point of the compass
from that in which the wind is blowing is likely to
hit you unexpectedly in narrow waters surrounded by
high banks of forest, and so it is always much safer
to use paddle only in such places. As to the other
upset, the leeboards were straight down, and you
should always avoid a point likely to have a shoal on
it when tacking in a high wind for, if she strikes
bottom with the leeboards, you will have the ignominy
of upsetting in a foot and a half of water!
As to rigs for canoes, I have tried them all;
leg-o'-mutton, batwing, lateen, and Canadian Club or
battened leg-o'-mutton; and have settled on the latter
for all my later canoes. Leg-o'-mutton is a slow sail,
because of its bad leach, and its spars are so long as
to be unstowable in a canoe with six-foot cockpit.
Batwing is too complicated a sail for most men to
make, and easily gets out of gear. Lateen has not only
too long spars, but is unreefable, and is a dangerous
sail before the wind in a heavy blow.
THE
Waterat IV WITH SAILS AND COCKPIT TENT
The Canadian Club, shown in our
illustrations, has comparatively short spars, a good
flat leach, and is easy to reef and stow. The
dimensions given are right for a twelve-foot canoe, a
larger sail can be carried, but you will have to reef
it most of the time. A single set of reef points in
mizzen and mainsail gives you canvas for a heavy blow,
while reefing her down to her battens will give you a
rag that you can navigate a gale in, like the time
last summer when I crossed Greenwood Lake in ten
minutes in Waterat IV, the present
representative of the canvas-covered decked sailing
canoe in which I navigate. Taken all in all, canoeing
is a great sport, and one that appeals particularly to
men and youths who have the adventurous exploring
spirit in them. I have sailed everything from a
full-rigged ship to a canoe, and, to this day I still
keep three canoes in my fleet of pleasure craft, one
of which, Waterat IV, is still the unbeaten
crack of this section!
 More
...
..
© 2002 Craig
O'Donnell, editor &
general factotum.
May not be reproduced without my permission. Go scan
your own damn stuff.
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