In the 1930s two articles were published in American how-to-do magazines on building a canoe. One was from Home Craft (March 1936) and the other from Popular Mechanics (March 1938). Both were on how to build wood canvas canoes….both models were 16 ft. I have posted about canoe building programs for youth….and so much about wood canvas canoes….so I thought it was time to highlight these two great how-to articles again.

An old post in the WCHA forum,  WCHA Forum: 1936 Homecraft Canoe Plans, about the Home Craft article, Canoe Building At Home. This included copies of the pages from the three issues involved….and I have reproduced them here:

Then there was the Popular Mechanics article, Build Your Own Canoe, Popular Mechanics: Build Your Own Canoe. Check out this article for another perspective on building your own wood canvas canoe.

Paddles up until later then….and maybe you’ll be inspired to build your own canoe….so you can really “paddle your own canoe”.

The canoes rode well, not too high in the bows, but just enough. Peterborough Prospectors were made for the bush and for roaring rapids and waves. They embodies the best features of all canoes in the north. They were wide of beam with sufficient depth to take rough water, and their lines gave them maneuverability and grace. In them was the lore of centuries, of Indian craftsman who had dreamed and perfected the beauty of the birchbark, and of French voyageurs who also loved the feel of the paddle and the smooth glide of the canoe through the water. All this was taken by modern craftsman who – with glues , waterproof fillers and canvas, together with the accuracy of machine tooled ribs and thwarts , planking and gunwales – made a canoe of which Northmen might be well proud. - Sigurd Olson

Going down a river or crossing a lake in anything but wood-canvas is like floating on a linoleum rug. That’s just how it looks when you glance inside one of those types of canoes and watch the bottom flex and shimmer with the water. Whereas, in any wood-canvas canoe you have all these beautiful rich colors of the cedar planking and ribs, hardwood gunwales and decks, and caned seats. Even the smells are nice and directly relate to the environment you are traveling through. - Jack Hurley, canoebuilder

I suppose there would always be an argument for the different types of materials and canoe designs, but the wood-canvas canoe is one generation away from the birchbark canoe and was made for working and transporting people through the wilderness. It was designed and made out of materials that would stand up to miles and miles of flatwater and whitewater and portaging through very rugged and unexplored terrain. As a trip leader with kids and adults, I have safely traveled across many lakes in a wood-canvas canoe in conditions where other experienced paddlers in the new-design boats were either windbound or took on water during the crossings. - Jim Spencer, canoebuilder.

Beautiful things made by hand carry within them the seeds of their survival. They generate a spark of affection. For some it’s sentimental, for some it’s the art of the craftsmanship, for some the beauty of the finished boat. People love these things and try hard to ensure they endure.

The survival of the wood-canvas canoe (to paraphrase John McPhee) is certainly a matter of the heart; a romantic affair. The economics are unfavorable. In fact, the wood-canvas canoe’s most conspicuous asset and advantage is that it’s a beautiful piece of art. It’s the Shaker rocking chair of outdoor sport – handcrafted, simple, clean, and functional. There’s nothing in it that doesn’t have to be there, but all of the pieces add up to more than the parts. It works well and looks wonderful doing it.- From Honeymoon With A Prospector by Lawrence Meyer

A Recipe For Success:

STEAMED CEDAR WITH CANVAS

An elegant accompaniment to fish.

Make ahead of time for relaxed visit with friends.

51 board feet of peeled and deveined eastern white cedar

10 board feet of combined ash, black cherry, and maple

2600 brass tacks

18 feet of 10 weight canvas

¾ gallon of oil base filler

3 quarts of varnish

2 quarts of paint

Assortment of beer to taste (chilled if possible)

Using a large shop, prepare all ingredients the night before. Early the next day preheat element to high heat. Bring an adequate quantity of water in a large pot to a tumbling boil. Steam ribs until al dente (flexible) and bend immediately while still tender. Let stand at room temperature to blend flavors until cool. Chop cleaned white parts of planking into long thin slices, (smaller pieces will fall to ground). Add bulk of brass tacks and planks at random until ribs disappear (careful not to tenderize planking with pounding of tacks). When ingredients become solid remove from mold and set aside. Prepare gunwales and decks by chopping fresh hardwoods. Snip to length and desired shape, introducing slowly for best results. Wrap with canvas skin; skewer with tacks along edges, leave middle open. Add both caned seats and center thwart until balanced. Inlay decks for garnish.

Use the same basic recipe for fifteen and seventeen footers. Quantities will vary including concentration of beer.

Well before serving time, press filler firmly onto bottom side of prepared carcass to seal in natural juices and let marinate. Heat entire hull at medium to high sun for about three weeks, covering occasionally, until fully baked.  From a separate pot, baste inside with all-purpose varnish to glaze ribs, careful not to drip, and let harden. Repeat occasionally. Meanwhile, whisk and and gently combine, until mixed but not runny, an assortment of fresh paint to color, stirring occasionally as you serve, and dressing the outside lightly from end to end. The condiments blend even better if allowed to stand for several hours until sticky topping hardens. (Careful not to undercook, but do not let baking temperature bubble surface.) Repeat spreading of additional layers on outer crust and again set aside and let stand until hard. Cover and store in a safe spot until needed. Present whole at room temperature, arranged attractively on an adequate bed of water. If desired, garnish with cherry paddles as a starter. Bon voyage. Serves 2 to 3. (Note: Depending on degree of festivities, presentation may be turned into a dip.)  – Don Standfield, fromStories From The Bow Seat: The Wisdom & Waggery of Canoe Tripping by Don Standfield and Liz Lundell.

To me there is nothing like a canoe shop, especially one that builds wood canvas canoes, for sparking the imagination….the smells….stacks of cedar ribs and planking….other woods such as cherry or ash….the feel of the wood….the tools, both hand and power….the canoe forms….partly finished canoes….those newly off the form with freshly varnished woodwork….others just canvassed and ‘filled’, waiting the six to eight weeks to ‘cure’….those newly painted, gleaming red or green (or whatever colour is preferred)….all of these, to say nothing about the possibilities….what this canoe will do once on the water. This is why canoe shops are mystical places to me.

As I’ve noted in a previous blog post here, the process of building a wood canvas canoe is an interesting one, certainly a labour of love. Maybe a bit more complicated than the Recipe For Success: STEAMED CEDAR WITH CANVAS noted above. From the old Wooden Canoe Builders’ Guild website comes this description of wood canvas canoe construction:

The cedar canvas canoe represents the European adaptation of the bark canoe built and used by the native people. As suitable bark became more difficult to obtain and to facilitate industrial production, canvas was substituted for the bark and rendered waterproof by the application of oil, tar or paint

Cedar canvas canoes have a long and romantic history in Canada and the north-eastern United States where they have been built in small shops and large factories for about 125 years. Many people think of them as ‘old fashioned’ canoes and are surprised to learn that they are still being built today. In fact the methods of manufacture have changed little in the past 125 years, ensuring the same high aesthetic qualities and superior handling characteristics of the classic canvas covered canoes

Before a cedar canvas canoe can be built, a form has to be constructed. The canoes are built directly onto this form so that it determines the shape of the canoe hull. Building the form is an exacting and lengthy process that can take 200 – 300 hours. However, once the form is complete, a large number of canoes can be built on it, one at a time.

The first step in the construction of a new canoe is to clamp the inwales and the stem pieces to the form. Next the cedar ribs are steamed and bent, one at a time, over the form and nailed to the inwales. This forms the skeletal shape of the canoe. The red or white cedar planking is then applied over the ribs and secured to each rib with 3 or 4 brass tacks. Metal bands on the form clinch each tack into the inside surface of the ribs to create a secure connection between the planks and the ribs. Approximately 2000 tacks are used in a typical 16 foot canoe.

When the planking is substantially complete, the canoe is removed from the form. The shear planking is then completed and the ends of the canoe are closed up.The canoe is then sanded and cleaned inside and given at least 4 coats of marine spar varnish. Decks, seats and thwarts are added and the canoe is ready for canvassing.

The canvas is folded lengthwise to form a trough and then stretched until taut. The canoe is placed into the trough and the canvas is attached at the top of each rib with brass tacks or stainless steel staples. At the ends of the canoe the canvas is carefully slit and pulled, one side at a time, around the stem and fastened. The canvas is then ‘filled’ with a product that fills the weave and makes a smooth, solid base for the finishing paint

After the filler has cured, the outwales are added and the canoe is then given at least three coats of marine enamel. Finally, the ends of the canoe are finished off with the installation of brass stem bands. The time required to build a canoe varies with the size and the degree of finish and can range from about 80 to 200 hours.

*Drawings by Sam Manning for the Adirondack Museum, Blue Mountain Lake, N.Y., U.S.A.

The Wooden Canoe Builders’ Guild was formed in 1997 to serve the collective needs and interests of builders and restorers of cedar canvas and woodstrip epoxy watercraft and to foster public interest in and knowledge of such watercraft. The Guild provides a forum for co-operation and communication among wooden canoe and kayak builders and facilitates the co-operative bulk purchasing of the specialised products and materials used in the construction of these vessels.

Guild members are producing, today, those canoes and kayaks which will become the heritage watercraft of future decades. It is the goal of the Guild to preserve and pass on the skills required to build and reconstruct these watercraft, which are so connected with the history and traditions of North America.

Today’s wooden canoe builders operate, predominantly, in small scale enterprises in widely scattered areas of North America. Few workshops have more than two or three employees which is why these builders are truly individual entrepreneurs with a strong sense of responsibility to produce quality watercraft for truly discriminating owners.

One such builder is Bruce Smith. Bruce is a good friend….and an incredible paddle maker…..as well as canoe builder. He is a member of the Wooden Canoe Builders’ Guild too, currently the Guild’s Vice President. I’ve mentioned Bruce often on this blog….and one of his canoes is my absolute favourite….not to mention one of his cherry paddles which is my go-to choice. Housed in an old barn, in the area near Elora, Ontario, is the shop where Bruce crafts his excellent paddles and incredible canoes. Cherry wood is stacked to air dry next to the barn….the scent of cedar mixes with that of other woods as you enter the shop itself; it is quite intoxicating….there are a couple of canoe forms….several paddles in various stages of production….and on another form, a canoe almost completely planked.

In case you don’t remember from other posts here, here is what the finished product will look like:

All photos by yours truly.

For more information check out http://www.brucesmithpaddles.com/index.html.

Paddles up until later then.

No matter how hard it may be, we all must move forward on whatever path we take….going backwards sometimes may be fine….but journey forward into life….take that step and strive onward….around that next bend in the river could be the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen….a beautiful waterfall…. or wildlife you’ve never seen before….maybe even the perfect campsite….continue forward in life….since life is an adventure. We need to know where we’ve come from to know where we’re going….but we need to keep going no matter where we’ve come from.

As long as you as an individual… can convince yourself that in order to move forward as best you can you have to be optimistic, you can be described as ‘one of the faithful,’ one of those people who can say, ‘Well, look, something’s going to happen! Let’s just keep trying. Let’s not give up. - Tom Hanks

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths. – Walt Disney

My trust in a higher power that wants me to survive and have love in my life, is what keeps me moving forward. - Kenny Loggins

By striving to do the impossible, man has always achieved what is possible. Those who have cautiously done no more than they believed possible have never taken a single step forward. - Mikhail Bakunin

A lot of emotional stress that people go through, some people figure out a way to handle it. They have a strong enough support system to keep going and keep moving forward. And some people, they feel like they don’t have that outlet. - Terrell Owens

Even if you fall on your face, you’re still moving forward. - Victor Kiam

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like. - Lao Tzu

Develop an attitude of gratitude, and give thanks for everything that happens to you, knowing that every step forward is a step toward achieving something bigger and better than your current situation. – Brian Tracy

A conservative is a man with two perfectly good legs who, however, has never learned how to walk forward. - Franklin Roosevelt

March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life’s path. - Khalil Gibran

As I’ve noted here before:

Life is a journey, not the destination. – Unknown

There are many who walk through the woods like blind men. – Grey Owl, Tolerance

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step and trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a woods, and I – I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. – Robert Frost (American poet), The Road Not Taken

You can always tell a white man from an Indian…The Indian walks like a fox, in a straight line, one foot in front of the other; a white man walks with his feet pointing in opposite directions, like he wasn’t sure which way to go…. – from “Of Mice and Men, White Pine, and Mobility”, in Grey Owl and Me: Stories from the Trail and Beyond by Hap Wilson….as told to Hap by a Native elder.

Then again one of the best of advice comes from paddling:

When in doubt, keep the open end up, and the pointed end forward. – Signature from online canoeing forum.

Or this from Facebook:

Paddles up until later then….moving forward as much as possible….

There have been several poems written about canoes such as:

Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
In the valley, by the river,
In the bosom of the forest;
And the forest’s life was in it,
All its mystery and its magic,
All the lightness of the birch-tree,
All the toughness of the cedar,
All the larch’s supple sinews;
And it floated on the river
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily. – From Longfellow’s Song of Hiawatha, 1855

Temagami

Far in the grim Northwest beyond the lines

That turn the rivers eastward to the sea,

Set with a thousand islands, crowned with pines,

Lies the deep water, wild Temagami:

Wild for the hunter’s roving, and the use

Of trappers in its dark and trackless vales,

Wild with the trampling of the giant moose,

And the weird magic of old Indian tales.

All day with steady paddles toward the west

Our heavy-laden long canoe we pressed:

All day we saw the thunder-travelled sky

Purpled with storm in many a trailing tress,

And saw at eve the broken sunset die

In crimson on the silent wilderness. - by Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)

The Old Canoe by George Marsh (Scribner’s Magazine, October 1908)

My seams gape wide so I’m tossed aside

To rot on a lonely shore

While the leaves and mould like a shroud enfold,

For the last of my trails are o’er;

But I float in dreams on Northland streams

That never again I’ll see,

As I lie on the marge of the old portage

With grief for company.

When the sunset gilds the timbered hills

That guard Timagami,

And the moonbeams play on far James Bay

By the brink of the frozen sea,

In phantom guise my Spirit flies

As the dream blades dip and swing

Where the waters flow from the Long Ago

In the spell of the beck’ning spring.

Do the cow-moose call on the Montreal

When the first frost bites the air,

And the mists unfold from the red and gold

That the autumn ridges wear?

When the white falls roar as they did of yore

On the Lady Evelyn,

Do the square-tail leap from the black pools deep

Where the pictured rocks begin?

O

h! the fur-fleets sing on Timiskaming

As the ashen paddles bend,

And the crews carouse at Rupert House

At the sullen winter’s end;

But my days are done where the lean wolves run,

And I ripple no more the path

Where the gray geese race cross the red moon’s face

From the white wind’s Arctic wrath.

Tho’ the death fraught way from the Saguenay

To the storied Nipigon

Once knew me well, now a crumbling shell

I watch the years roll on,

While in memory’s haze I live the days

That forever are gone from me,

As I rot on the marge of the old portage

With grief for company.

Additional verse written by Kirk Wipper for Kanawa Collection (now the Canadian Canoe Museum):

Tho’ they rest inside, in our dreams they’ll glide

On the crests of streams of yore.

In the mid-day sun, they’ll make their run

and night on a distant shore.

The travelers are gone their unmatched brawn

Who plied the mapless ways

But their craft we keep tho the paddlers sleep.

Their stars we seek today.

Another great poem:

West wind, blow from your prairie nest

Blow from the mountains, blow from the west.

The sail is idle, the sailor too;

O! wind of the west, we wait for you.

Blow, blow! I have wooed you so,

But never a favour you bestow.

You rock your cradle the hills between,

But scorn to notice my white lateen.

I stow the sail, unship the mast:

I wooed you long but my wooing’s past;

My paddle will lull you into rest.

O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west,

Sleep, sleep,

By your mountain steep,

Or down where the prairie grasses sweep!

Now fold in slumber your laggard wings,

For soft is the song my paddle sings.

August is laughing across the sky,

Laughing while paddle, canoe and I,

Drift, drift,

Where the hills uplift

On either side of the current swift.

The river rolls in its rocky bed;

My paddle is plying its way ahead;

Dip, dip,

While the waters flip

In foam as over their breast we slip.

And oh, the river runs swifter now;

The eddies circle about my bow.

Swirl, swirl!

How the ripples curl

In many a dangerous pool awhirl!

And forward far the rapids roar,

Fretting their margin for evermore.

Dash, dash,

With a mighty crash,

They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.

Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe!

The reckless waves you must plunge into.

Reel, reel.

On your trembling keel,

But never a fear my craft will feel.

We’ve raced the rapid, we’re far ahead!

The river slips through its silent bed.

Sway, sway,

As the bubbles spray

And fall in tinkling tunes away.

And up on the hills against the sky,

A fir tree rocking its lullaby,

Swings, swings,

Its emerald wings,

Swelling the song that my paddle sings. – The Song My Paddle Sings, E. Pauline Johnson

I have written a few poems based on canoeing and paddling….several I have posted here:

Canada Day In A Canoe

Floating along on the still water of a small lake

Being in a canoe on Canada Day is no mistake.

Hardly disturbing the water’s surface, canoe hiked over to one side

Paddling in the Canadian Style, the solo canoeist takes such pride

The canoe is silent, quietly moving and being free

The solo canoeist dips his blade in a rhythmic motion

Maybe just thinking of how wonderful it is just to be

Not really thinking of anything, no ideas or silly notion

Maybe how this is such a great country to have been born to

So many great places to dip a paddle, to take a canoe

Great paddlers….Mason, Trudeau, Stringer and Wipper, to name a few

So many rivers and lakes to canoe trip through

The canoe was one of Canada’s Seven Wonders in a national poll

This is a country with so much history tied to the canoe

So many places to go, whether by paddle, portage or pole

Whether solo or in tandem, something any of us can do

To me, Canada is canoe country….water, rock and tree

I’m a Canadian paddler proud to be

In a land that beckons us to just see

More of Canada, True North strong and free - Mike Ormsby

Easing the canoe from its resting place on the shore

Silently launching into the still water of a cool morning

The first stroke of the paddle gracefully slicing through the liquid surface

You and the canoe forming almost a ghostly figure

In the early morning mist rising above the rocks, trees and water

The sound of the water makes as it drips off the end of the paddle

Yet nearly all is complete quiet and silence

As stealth-like as an owl on wing you travel along the shore

The rhythm of the strokes as one with the rhythm of Mother Nature

You become one with your surroundings

As you glide across a watery wonderland

A beaver slaps its tail as a warning of your presence

The morning stillness is interrupted by the call of a loon as the day awakes

A red squirrel scolds you from an overhead pine branch

A moose munches on aquatic vegetative delicacies in a quiet secluded bay

The morning mist now long melted away in the glow of the sun

You easily send your canoe forward with each stroke

Now and then feathering your paddle to rest

And take in all that abounds along the lake

Peace and serenity, the exhilaration of being out on the water

But there is much going on along these shores

Turtles basking in the sunlight slide off a log as you approach

Slow paced almost statue like, a great blue heron stalks dinner (or is it lunch)

But still you lose track of time as you drift along

Forgetting cares and woes, finding strength in each paddle stroke

As you near the far shore’s portage, you feel fresh, ready to carry the canoe

Over the short yet rocky trail into the next small but distant lake

Perhaps even to a welcoming campsite under the pines

Settling down for the night under sparkling stars

Maybe even catching glimpse of a shooting star or the Northern Lights

The cedar and canvas canoe rolls up onto your shoulders

Not too much weight, a bit more than you remember from last year J

ust enough to let you know you’re still alive

You double the carry over so you don’t overdo it

Or maybe it’s just to take more time to see where you’re at

As you rest by a waterfall beside the path, you reflect on the day….on what lies ahead

Still a few hours left before the sun sets….should be a full moon tonight

Maybe you’ll hear the howl of a wolf…. the echo of a loon from a nearby lake

You feel good….at ease….at home….and far from being alone

The canoe and you have journeyed far…and still have farther yet to go

For each trip takes you away from the daily grind

With each paddle stroke, there is definitely a greater peace of mind

So you pick up your pack, walking the last of the portage

Upon arrival, you launch the canoe onto the shining waters

You and the canoe dance on into the remaining daylight – Mike Ormsby

Ghost Canoe

Painted using a mixture of regular marine grey and an artist’s $2 tube of cobalt blue

There was little chance of mistaking Tom Thomson’s distinctive dove grey canoe

Yet when it was found floating upside down in Canoe Lake

Offshore and unattended, riding free in the wave’s wake

Little could anyone have realized the great mystery about to unfold

The legend and the lore of the man, the story that might never be told

Discovering Thomson’s body bobbing near Little Wapomeo Island

With a bruise over the temple, blood coming from the ear

Could this be the result of an argument that got out of hand?

At the very least finding Tom such had been the greatest fear

With so much talent and surely a prosperous future just ahead

It was sad that by July 1917, at age 39, Tom Thomson was dead

But would anybody ever know how he had met this terrible fate?

Over the years memories fade and facts become less than straight

What is to be made of the ankle wrapped around with fishing line?

Was Tom killed by a waterborne whirlwind or likewise divine?

And what ever became of the missing favourite paddle?

So much that is hard to fathom or begin to try to straddle

What of the two paddles lashed inside the canoe as if ready to carry

But apparently haphazardly tied in with less than an expert’s knot?

Had Thomson decided to head out west, to leave without further tarry?

Was a loan to Shannon Fraser involved, a debt for canoes recently bought?

Were harsh words over the war with Germany allowed to enflame?

Was Martin Blecher (or was it Bletcher?) that was the one to blame?

Would the truth ever come out of what had happened to the artist cum guide

Had he drowned standing up attempting to pee over the canoe’s side?

Was it a case of possible foul play or even suicide?

Had Tom Thomson gone missing due to a matter of family pride?

Had he promised Winnie Trainor that they would wed?

Or was his death the result of a fatal blow to the head?

Was there a baby that was soon to be due?

And who really last saw Tom in his canoe?

What is to be made of the report of the artist’s frequent swings in mood?

Was Thomson a gentleman, true in his word, or a drunkard sometimes crude?

Was he happy or sad? Was he bi-polar or even depressed?

So much remains unknown and never properly addressed

The coroner arrived after Tom had been embalmed and already buried

Holding a brief inquest that found death to have been accidental drowning

When to some such a finding seemed at the very least somewhat hurried

Even the coroner’s report becoming lost can only leave one frowning

What of the bruise on the temple? Was it on the left or the right?

Surely there must have been talk from the locals of a possible fight?

Accidental drowning may have been the official word

But this just seems far too simple and even absurd

Most thought Tom was more than adequate in the water; it was known he could swim

He was also considered a good enough paddler to keep any canoe reasonably trim

No water in his lungs? So long for the body to surface? Did something prevent it to rise?

Too many questions for such a quick report….too much unanswered to just surmise

What of the questions of the actual burial site? Is Tom in Leith or at Canoe Lake?

Was there really a body in that sealed metal casket? Or merely sand meant to fake?

Why has the family never allowed exhumation? Was undertaker Churchill sly as a fox?

Who was dug up in 1956? Thomson or someone of Native descent left in the same box?

Why did Miss Trainor continue to place flowers on a supposedly empty grave?

Baffling and puzzling to say the least….enough to make some even rant and rave.

Whatever we may know about Tom Thomson’s demise

And no matter that we may have to just simply surmise

Canoes do weave in and out of Thomson’s story; he often painted from a canoe

Canoes appear in his art, even that of his distinctive Chestnut, painted grey blue

A canoe was involved in his death and in the name of the lake where he lost his life

Maybe from a debt over the purchase of canoes, money he needed to take a wife?

Some even say a ghostly figure can be seen on misty mornings paddling a canoe on Canoe Lake

But supposedly a silent, even benign spirit, hardly scary enough to keep one up nights wide awake

So through much of the tale of Tom Thomson is the image, ghostly or not, of the canoe

But what became of his beloved Chestnut, with metal strip down the keel, and grey blue

Little is known where it ended up; maybe rotting at Mowat Lodge or on a portage trail?

Years after Tom’s death, a local camp even tried to locate this canoe, but alas to no avail

Painted using a mixture of regular marine grey and an artist’s $2 tube of cobalt blue

There was little chance of mistaking Tom Thomson’s distinctive dove grey canoe

Yet when it was found floating upside down in Canoe Lake

Offshore and unattended, riding free in the wave’s wake

Little could anyone have realized the great mystery about to unfold

The legend and the lore of the man, the story that might never be told – Mike Ormsby

Twas out paddling my favourite wood canvas canoe mere weeks before Christmas 

The lake still being open with weather so balmy that no snow had yet come to pass

Still the water was more than quite frigid and so brisk was the early morning air,

Maybe too windy to be out in a canoe, but it wasn’t a gale force blow so I didn’t care.

I paddled over to the far side of the lake to where a river spilled in

Landing my canoe at the portage next to the whitewater roarin’.

I sat on a rock in the warming sun wearing layers of fleece under my old PFD,

Right next to the moving water, leaning my back up against an overhanging tree.

When further upstream there arose such a clash

I was startled, and slipped, and fell in with a splash.

My glasses went one way, my paddle went another.

Cold water went down my back….more than a bother.

The gleam of the sun on the river around,

Was lovely, but heck, I was going to drown!!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear?

One of those tupperware boats. Was my rescue near?

This bright red canoe had a jolly old fella, rather too fat to fit into a solo playboat,

With such a wide girth it was hard to imagine how his canoe could ever stay afloat

Even through the rapids he teetered, bouncing off each and every big rock.

This old guy looked to enough of his own big trouble, I thought with a shock.

But he slid in so slowly, so graceful, even stopping to surf the waves in one huge hole

As if none of the river’s challenges had ever required him to have to attempt a roll

And then he glided in softly, as smooth as can be,

Into the eddy, bothering nothing except maybe me.

And then in a twinkling he popped out of his craft

Like a cork from a bottle, I shouldn’t have laughed.

With flowing long hair and very scruffy beard, all of which were quite white

His unkempt appearance, complete with such frosted whiskers was really a sight.

He looked like he had been on the trail for far too many weeks

His canoe was covered in duct tape to prevent any further leaks

His paddling jacket encircled his ample frame

With pockets full of gadgets, too many to name.

He waded right in to help pull me out of the water where I’d fallen

He didn’t waste a second or even a minute standing around or stalling

Then just as fast back out in his canoe, twirling his paddle high over the top of his head

He chose to surf the waves or play in an eddy rather than accept my praise or thanks instead

Yet he still hadn’t spoken a word but went straight to his fun,

And he portaged his canoe back for yet another river run.

But before putting in, he turned to me and said “I got something to tell ya”

“I’m Santa Claus….although I’m still mistaken for that Bill Mason fella.”

He sprang to his red tupperware boat, out into the current with a good pushing.

And then he shot downstream with a splash and nothing from rocks to cushion.

Now I’d have thought old St. Nick would be more of a traditionalist in his choice of boat

Something all wood or a canoe of wood and canvas with a shiny red painted coat

Something in keeping with his image (and likeness to such a famous paddler of Chestnut canoes)

Yet it appeared that Santa had taken to the synthetic materials and much more modern views

But I heard him exclaim as he drifted almost completely from sight.

“Always paddle safe, and remember to keep your canoe upright.

I have a number of canoes and kayaks up at the North Pole

And my favourite wood canvas just isn’t the easiest to roll

Although I’d have far more room for all these gifts in a Prospector

These tiny play boats don’t have enough space to properly store

Now I’ll have to get used to making my deliveries by paddling a boat

Because a sleigh and twelve reindeer just never could float

With global warming and polar ice caps beginning to melt, raising water levels so high

Soon a canoe could be the only answer to getting around rather than having to fly

Although I admit it won’t be so easy once the snow has started to fall

But for now let me just wish a Merry Christmas to all.”

And with that old St. Nick was very much gone

His concern about the environment was obviously quite strong

But I liked his choice of a canoe of any type as a mode of transportation

So I’ll just add Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to the whole paddling population!!! - Mike Ormsby

A Paddling Version Of Lazy Hazy Days Of Summer

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Those days of being out in the canoe, getting out there

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Dust off the sun and moon, sing a song of the Voyageur

Fill up your pack, tie down the canoe, get your paddle and tent

Then lock the house up, now you’re all set 

Heading out on the road, following trails where others went

Oh you can hardly wait to get the canoe wet

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Going wherever the canoe takes you, wherever you steer

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

You’ll wish that summer could always be here

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer 

Those days of being out in the canoe, getting out there

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Dust off the sun and moon, sing a song of the Voyageur

Don’t hafta tell a girl and fella about paddling at night

Their canoe gliding quiet and still, out under a romantic full moon

Out under a clear sky, with stars twinkling so bright

A little cuddling, even a kiss, just enough to make any heart swoon

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer 

Going wherever the canoe takes you, wherever you steer

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

You’ll wish that summer could always be here

You’ll wish that summer could always be here

You’ll wish that summer could always be here – Mike Ormsby

But there are lots of great examples of canoe poetry online….many far better than anything I could write….

Dance with the Wilderness by Charles Burchill

Memories of still water Speak to your restless soul Calling you and your silent craft To the rippled reflection of the shore.

Rushing water spills over a ledge Scan for the V to point the way Eddy out and watch the swirl Now ride the wild wave.

Go and Dance Your partner waits.

Ideals by Charles Burchill

Who will speak for us now? Pierre and his canoe have left us. Bill and his Pal are gone. Politics threatens our union. Tell me when will it end.

We believed at Stockholm We believed in Rio. Now Voices from Kyoto fall. Where does it end.

When do we start?

PFD by Charles Burchill

Personal was the choice I made. The wind was calm, the waves were small. The distance was not much at all.

Freedom was what I wanted then. The way was short, just across the bay. No one knew I went that way.

Death called to me. The shore was dim, I could not swim.

The Spirit by Charles Burchill

The spirit has moved within me and draws me back each year. It calls to me each spring, and every fall it draws a tear.

Every stroke’s a blessing each spring and summer day. Moving forward with my life in such a wondrous way.

How I love the tranquil sound of water rushing by. The quiet laughter on the hull lifts my spirit high.

To paddle with you is a joy; across the lake each fall. Of all the things I keep inside this I tell to all.

Once the spirit finds you your life will be complete. The love of paddle and canoe will keep your soul replete.

I found this seasonal poem at Canoe Poems, Free Verse (from Canoe Poems)….a website of canoe poetry by Lenny Everson (everson@golden.net)….Lenny shares his poems online for free of charge (as long as he gets acknowlegement as the author)….and there are some great verses….not all free verses….some do rhyme….any way here are some thoughts for a rainy October day:

October

Rain at dawning. Warm breakfast, but I ended up at the window, gray-feeling.

At nine the clouds headed for Quebec leaving stunning blue on the world’s ceiling.

Got the canoe on the car, feet soaked with dew, and on the water by ten-thirty, making paddle-whirlpools, Octobering my Canadian soul. I tell you, I went down the lake for no particular reason. Portaged just to step on crackling orange leaves or maybe just to ruffle a grouse.

I think eternity could start this way. I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind at all.

Elsewhere I found a series of poems on Poems from ‘Temagami’ and Other Poems by Jim Flosdorf….since I love Temagami….and canoes….these were two of my favourites:

What Grey Owl Knew

It’s fitting we should meet on the water

you hailing me with ‘that’s a familiar stroke’

and it should be — you taught me

Ojibway style, the first time we tripped together

years ago; and before I can see your face I recognize your voice

light-traveller, voyageur, poet you’re off again

just back from Heathrow and into the bush

Canada’s Lake District outshining England’s by a country mile.

Canoe Makers

Quickly, deftly out of the steam chest a rib extracted, and with a hasty grace they bend the supple wood over the mold and tack it down, over and over, growing skeleton, nailing it to backbone in the old way.

Muscle and tissue planks lift off the mold like a dragonfly slipping from its crysalis, a skin grows, breathes again.  As it swims among brother pike and bass, cedar and ash, they nod to each other, exchange greetings.

There are several other poems by Jim Flosdorf that really touch the soul….and I recommend you check these out….I have to admit I was quite taken by these two poems….so much so that I ‘rewrote’ them a bit (OK just slightly altered)….and combined both together….partly because I love the images of canoe building….the canoe taking shape….the canoe on the water….and the meeting of two paddlers on the water reminded me of a friend and mentor who traveled on a few months ago….my apologies to Jim, but I do hope it does justice to the soul of the original words:

Quickly, deftly out of the steam chest a rib extracted, and with a hasty grace they bend the supple wood over the mold and tack it down, over and over, growing skeleton, nailing it to backbone in the old way.

Muscle and tissue planks lift off the mold like a dragonfly slipping from its chrysalis, a skin grows, breathes again. 

As the canoe dances across the water, made of canvas, cedar and ash, it takes its place among the other creatures of the marine environ, exchanging greetings with fish and waterfowl; animals like beaver, moose, frogs and turtles; plants such as cattails and lily pads.

It’s fitting we should meet  on the water

you hailing me with  ‘that’s a familiar stroke’

and it should be –  you taught me

Ojibway style, the first time  we tripped together

years ago; and before I can see  your face I recognize your voice

light-traveller, voyageur, poet, teacher, history and culture buff, preserver of wilderness, collector of canoes, lover of heritage and tradition

just back from the bush….from Canada’s Shield country – true ‘canoe country’ – outshining any other by a country mile.

but as soon as you return, you’re off yet again….back to the country of your birth – or at least ‘re-birth’ – back to the country of the canoe.

Paddles up until later then….and to ‘poetry in motion’….

….the canoe is not a lifeless, inanimate object; it feels very much alive, alive with the life of the river. – Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

There is nothing that is so aesthetically pleasing and yet so functional and versatile as the canoe. – Bill Mason

I have always believed that the Canadian Wooden canoe is one of the greatest achievements of mankind. There is nothing that is so aesthetically pleasing and yet so functional and versatile as the canoe. It is as much a part of our land as the rocks and trees and lakes and rivers. It takes as much skill and artistry to paddle a canoe well as it does to paint a picture of it. In this painting I wanted to capture the look and feel of a well-worn travelling companion. There’s hardly a rib or plank that isn’t cracked but after a quarter of a century it’s still wearing its original canvas. - Bill Mason, Canoescapes (NOTE: This was in reference to a painting done by Bill Mason of his favourite Chestnut canoe.)

There is one thing I should warn you about before you decide to get serious about canoeing. You must consider the possibility of becoming totally and incurably hooked on it. You must also face the fact that every fall about freeze-up time you go through a withdrawal period as you watch the lakes and rivers icing overone by one. Cross-country skiing and snowshoeing can help a little to ease the pain, but they won’t guarantee a complete cure. – Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

When you look at the face of Canada and study the geography carefully, you come away with the feeling that God could have designed the canoe first and then set about to conceive a land in which it could flourish. - Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

It’s the portage that makes travelling by canoe unique. – Bill Mason

….portaging is like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer: it feels so good when you stop. – Bill Mason

Anyone who says they like portaging is either a liar or crazy. – Bill Mason

It was the canoe that made it possible for the Indian to move around before and for several hundred years after the arrival of the white man. As the white man took over their land, the native people would regret the generosity which they shared their amazing mode of travel. The more I study the birchbark canoe and what it can do, the greater is my admiration of these people who were here long before we arrived.

The birchbark canoe is made entirely from materials found in the forest: birch bark, cedar, spruce roots, ash, and pine gum. When it is damaged, it can be repaired easily from the materials at hand. When it has served its purpose, it returns to the land, part of a never-ending cycle. - Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

….we need to be more aware of where we are headed and from whence we came. An appreciation of the canoe and acquisition of the necessary skills to utilize it as a way to journey back to what’s left of the natural world is a great way to begin this voyage of discovery. - Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

A journey by canoe along ancient waterways is a good way to rediscover our lost relationship with the natural world and the Creator who put it tohether so long ago. - Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

The path of the paddle can be a means of getting things back to their original perspective. - Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

….the age of the canoe is not gone; it’s justdifferent. the canoe is no longer a vehicle of trade and commerce. Instead, it has become a means of venturing back into what is left of the natural world. It’s true there isn’t much left to be discovered, but there is much to be rediscovered about the land, about the creatures who live there, and about ourselves. Where do we come from and where are we going? There is no better place and no better way to follow this quest into the realm of spirit than along the lakes and rivers of the North American wilderness in a canoe. -Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

The first thing you must learn about canoeing is that the canoe is not a lifeless, inanimate object; it feels very much alive, alive with the life of the river. Life is transmitted to the canoe by the currents of the air and the water upon which it rides. The behavior and temperament of the canoe is dependent upon the elements: from the slightest breeze to a raging storm, from the smallest ripple to a towering wave, or from a meandering stream to a thundering rapid. - Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

It is certainly not my intention to convince everybody they should grab a canoe and take to the wilderness. We are all different, and our interests vary. That is how it should be. Some people are content to enjoy the land from the edge of the road or campground. Others are only happy when isolated from the synthetic world by many portages and miles of trackless wilderness. I used to think it was a major tragedy if anyone went through life never having owned a canoe. Now I believe it is just a minor tragedy. – Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

Wilderness: a beautiful word to describe a beautiful land. Wilderness though is a white man’s concept. To the Native people, the land was not wild. It was home. It provided shelter, clothed and fed them. And echoing through their souls was a song of the land. The singing isn’t as loud as it used to be. But you can still hear it in the wind….in the silence of the misty morning….in the drip of the water from the tip of a paddle. The song is still here if you know how to listen. – Bill Mason, Song Of the Paddle

On her Dad’s art: Like him, I find that paddling can take you on a voyage of creativity where you store up experiences in your memory to treasure for a lifetime. – Becky Mason

May every dip of your paddle lead you towards a rediscovery of yourself, of your canoeing companions, of the wonders of nature, and of the unmatched physical and spiritual rapture made possible by the humble canoe - Pierre Elliott Trudeau, foreword to Path of the Paddle by Bill Mason, 1980

Although in later life Bill vehemently defended the virtues of his beloved Chestnut – his personal fleet included three, a 16′ Pal, a 16′ Prospector and a 17′ Cruiser – he could have been paddling any number of canvas-covered canoes built in the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s. In fact, there were on the market, for all intents and purposes, dozens of nearly identical models, made by various manufacturers in the United States and Canada, many of which had the model name “Prospector.” But, even as a class or type of canvas-covered canoe, the Prospector that became his favourite was entirely consistent with Bill and his view of the world. It was mostly made of natural materials – steamed white cedar ribs and planking; brass tacks and screws; cotton-canvas skin; and white ash or oak seats, thwarts and gunwales. It was solid; it was durable; it could be repaired in the field; and it moved quietly and responsively in all types of water. – James Raffan, Fire In The Bones

Today, most Canadian canoeing is recreational. Many of us would assert that it is usually meaningful, aesthetically fulfilling and ecologically sensitive recreational canoeing. Admittedly, these modifiers are not present in the highly competitive, highly structured and technically oriented canoe racing sports which tend not to take place in a wilderness environment. But with these large exceptions, canoeing, certainly canoe tripping and lake water canoe cruising, tends to involve in varying degrees a quest for wilderness or at least semi-wilderness. It also involves a search for high adventure or natural tranquility or both. These activities are an integral part of Canadian culture. Bill Mason asserts that the canoe is “the most beautiful work of human beings, the most functional yet aesthetically pleasing object ever created,” and that paddling a canoe is “an art” not a technical achievement. That certainly means culture. - Bruce Hodgins, from Canexus, p.46

It’s pretty hard for me to go more than a few days without getting a paddle wet somewhere. For me, that stepping into the canoe and pushing off is a very special spiritual and physical experience. Bill Mason had it right: it’s like walking on water. It transports you to another way of being, another way of feeling – it restores my soul. – David Finch

From Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Mason:

Bill Mason was an award-winning Canadian naturalist, author, artist, filmmaker, and conservationist, noted primarily for his popular canoeing books, films, and art as well as his documentaries on wolves….He canoed all of his adult life, ranging widely over the wilderness areas of Canada and the United States. Called “wilderness artist,” in one book about him, Mason left a legacy that includes books, films and artwork on canoeing and wild nature. He died of cancer in 1988.

….In his review of James Raffan’s 1996 biography of Mason (NOTE: James Raffan’s biography of Bill, Fire In The Bones, is a must read), Michael Peake refers to Mason as “the patron saint of canoeing.” To many Canadian and American Paddlers and Canoeists growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, his series of instructional films were the introduction to technique and the canoeing experience. In many ways, Bill, Joyce, Paul and Becky Mason were the “faces” of Canadian Canoeing in the ’70s.

….Although he used a variety of Chestnut models in his films, including the “Pal” and the “Fort”, his favourite boat was a red Chestnut Prospector, a 16 foot canvas covered wood canoe that he claimed was the most versatile design ever manufactured, in spite of the popularity of more durable and modern construction techniques and materials. After his death, this canoe was donated to the Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough, Ontario, where it is on display. His wife, Joyce, and children, Paul and Becky, frequently travelled with him and contributed to his later books and films, and have continued his life work and environmentalism.

From Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Mason.

From Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Mason.

Bill Mason was a huge influence on me….as a paddler….as a lover of wild places….and of old wood canoes….

Bill was definitely one of a kind….I had the pleasure of meeting him (through Kirk Wipper)….his kids Becky and Paul, along with his wife Joyce are definitely carrying on his memory….see http://www.redcanoes.ca/bill/ for more on Bill….

The Bill Mason Scholarship Fund, http://www.paddlecanada.com/about-us/bill-mason-scholarship.html, is awarded by Paddle Canada, and described as:

The Bill Mason Memorial Scholarship Fund is a tribute to the late Bill Mason, a Canadian recognized both nationally and internationally as an avid canoeist, environmentalist, filmmaker, photographer, artist and public speaker.

Established by Paddle Canada in 1990, with the permission and input of the Mason Family, the scholarship is intended to incorporate some of the characteristics that made Bill Mason unique and to help ensure that the memory, spirit and ideals that he represented are kept fresh in the minds of Canadians.

Paddle Canada is proud to award this annual scholarship of $1,000 to assist with the education of tomorrow’s environmental stewards – to those people who help make a difference in the kind of world we live in today and pass on to future generations.

Becky Mason (besides being a fantastic artist as is her partner Reid) is a great paddler (like many others I wish I could paddle as well)….and has a recent DVD that is equally as breathtaking as many of her Dad’s films….this new DVD is also informative and instructional….

Paul Mason is a great cartoonist….his Bubblestreet cartoons are favourites with many paddlers….Paul is also a fantastic whitewater paddler….

Both Becky and Paul (along with Joyce) were featured in many of Bill’s films….the family took part in the canoe tripping film Song of the Paddle….Paul was featured in the Path of the Paddle series….Paul also played the little boy (who finds Paddle-to-the-Sea along with his yellow Labrador Retriever) in Paddle to the Sea….

As I’ve already noted here and in other blog posts, like many paddlers, I was greatly influenced by Bill Mason….I remember seeing The Rise and Fall of the Great Lakes and Paddle to the Sea as a youngster….later on seeing his canoeing instructional film series Path of the Paddle (if my memory serves me right, first at a CRCA Canoe Instructor’s School at Kandalore, where it was shown by Bill as a ‘film-in-progress’)….Bill’s films are available for all to see on the NFB website (or look down the left side of this blog for direct links to several)….

One film that really speaks of Bill’s passion for canoes and canoeing is Waterwalker….and the NFB blog, http://blog.nfb.ca/2011/12/16/waterwalker/?ntpg_src=links&ntpg_sid=kr_fb_20111216, featured a piece entitled Waterwalker: Bill Mason’s Masterpiece…..the film is described in author Albert Ohayon’s words as:

I have viewed over 7,000 NFB films as part of my work. People often ask me what my favourite film is and I never hesitate to answer Bill Mason’s ode to the majesty of nature, Waterwalker (1984). There is so much about this film that works for me on so many levels….

….I invite you to view this film and share in Mason’s beautiful journey. Perhaps you will be deeply touched by its message like I was—or perhaps not. In either case, the beautiful images and haunting Bruce Cockburn music are sure to make a lasting impression on you. Enjoy.

From NFB Blog, Waterwalker: Bill Mason’s Masterpiece, http://blog.nfb.ca/2011/12/16/waterwalker/?ntpg_src=links&ntpg_sid=kr_fb_20111216.

I remember seeing Waterwalker in a Toronto theater (the Cumberland I believe)….it was incredible to see on a big screen….I missed on repeating this experience this past March in Kitchener when the Princess Theater had a special viewing of the film….with Becky Mason in attendance to talk about her Dad and the film….

Waterwalker was made from extra footage Bill shot during the filming of the Path of the Paddle series….just an example of ‘recycling’ I guess….something I believe Bill had done on other films such as his projects about wolves….the feature-length Cry of the Wild was made from extra sequences shot during the making of his shorter documentary Death of a Legend….

Whatever Bill filmed….be it about canoes or wolves….whales or the Great Lakes….or whether he wrote canoeing instruction books (Path of the Paddle and Song of the Paddle) or on his art (Canoescapes, finished just before his death)….he devoted his life and work to the discovery and the protection of nature. Bill Mason was one of the first ecologist filmmakers….and he is still celebrated as North America’s most famous exponent of canoeing.

Bill Mason was born on April 21st….and lived to 59 years of age….I guess being born on April 19th….and just past 58, I feel just a little more in common with Bill lately than when I first became aware of him….beyond a shared love for canoes and canoeing….and for the environment and wild places. I hope I’m able to keep paddling on for many years to come….but I will always be inspired by Bill’s films and books. Bill passed away the same year as another huge influence on many paddlers did. Both Bill and Omer Stringer passed away in 1988. I can never be as good a paddler as Omer….certainly can never make a film or write a book like Bill….but from what I learned from both, I hope I will always be able to share the same ideals.

Let me close with a poem by Charles Burchill:

Ideals by Charles Burchill

Who will speak for us now?

Pierre and his canoe have left us.

Bill and his Pal are gone.

Politics threatens our union.

Tell me when will it end.

We believed at Stockholm

We believed in Rio.

Now Voices from Kyoto fall.

Where does it end.

When do we start?

Paddles up until later then….check out this article on Waterwalker on the NFB blog….better yet check out Bill’s films on the NFB website….his films are still as relevant today as when he first filmed them….and be sure to see Waterwalker…..to paraphrase a quote mentioned above, made by David Finch, Bill Mason was truly a waterwalker….especially through his work on the canoe….letting one literally walk on water….while transporting you to another way of being….another way of feeling….restoring your soul.

From Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_David_Thoreau, comes this brief description of who Henry David Thoreau was:

Henry David Thoreau (born David Henry Thoreau; July 12, 1817 – May 6, 1862) was an American author, poet, abolitionist, naturalist, tax resister, development critic, surveyor, historian, philosopher, and leading transcendentalist. He is best known for his book Walden, a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings, and his essay, Civil Disobedience, an argument for individual resistance to civil government in moral opposition to an unjust state.

Thoreau’s books, articles, essays, journals, and poetry total over 20 volumes. Among his lasting contributions were his writings on natural history and philosophy, where he anticipated the methods and findings of ecology and environmental history, two sources of modern day environmentalism.

On the last day of August (a hot humid day at that….so I’m feeling lazy), I thought I would post some of Thoreau’s quotes:

I sailed up a river with a pleasant wind, New lands, new people, and new thoughts to find; Many fair reaches and headlands appeared, And many dangers were there to be feared; But when I remember where I have been, And the fair landscapes that I have seen, Thou seemest the only permanent shore, The cape never rounded, nor wandered o’er.”  – Henry David Thoreau, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers

Wherever there is a channel for water, there is a road for the canoe. –  Henry David Thoreau

Everyone must believe in something. I believe I’ll go canoeing. – Henry David Thoreau

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life; living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartanlike as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness out of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience. – Henry David Thoreau

A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. – Henry David Thoreau, from the chapter “The Ponds” in Walden

Generally speaking, a howling wilderness does not howl: it is the imagination of the traveler that does the howling. – Henry David Thoreau

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves – Henry David Thoreau

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads – Henry David Thoreau

All good things are wild, and free – Henry David Thoreau

If a man walks in the woods for love of them half of each day, he is in danger of being regarded as a loafer; but if he spends his whole day as a speculator, shearing off those woods and making earth bald before her time, he is esteemed an industrious and enterprising citizen. — Henry David Thoreau

This curious world we inhabit…is more wonderful than convenient; more beautiful than useful; it is more to be admired and enjoyed than used. – Henry David Thoreau

In wildness is the preservation of the world. – Henry David Thoreau

We need the tonic of wildness, to wade sometimes in marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground. – Henry David Thoreau

By the way, as an aside (although I think Thoreau would have appreciated the resourcefulness involved), Mike Elliot of Kettle River Canoes, in his Canoeguy’s Blog, wrote a great post called Wood-Canvas Canoes In A Green Economy, http://canoeguybc.wordpress.com/2010/08/29/wood-canvas-canoes-in-a-green-economy/, which describes the basis behind Mike’s canoe restoration business. I love Mike’s opening statement:

An environmentally friendly approach to the world is based on the “Three R’s”: Reduce, Reuse and Recycle.  However, there are more: Repair, Restore and Reclaim.

Mike developed a Green business model from the start….and his success comes by reducing, reusing, recycling, repairing, restoring and reclaiming. He provides an example of this in his use of planking from an old salvaged telephone pole or use of hardwood paneling recycled from a  house demolition. Mike’s canoe business focuses exclusively on restoration instead of building. Mike realized that he couldn’t make enough from building new canoes, but he could from restoring older still usable canoes. I also like his “adoption” approach where an old canoe is “adopted” by a new owner who pays for the restoration.  Check out Mike’s great blog….and look for a book he’s soon to publish on canoe restoration.

Paddles up until later then….and like Thoreau, I think one has to believe in something….so I believe I’ll go canoeing….in a green wood canvas canoe.

This coming Sunday is Father’s Day….and my thoughts are with Dads who paddle with their kids….like Scott MacGregor and his son Dougie (if you haven’t seen the This Is Canoeing DVD, then check out the segment on Scott and Dougie on the Petawawa). And so many other Dads and their kids.

My Dad passed away about a a few years ago….but I still think of him often when I’m paddling….my Dad and I never did get to take the canoe trip we’d often talked about….one up into Algonquin Park, on the Biggar Lake route (via North Tea and Manitou Lakes)….but shortly after he passed away, I bought a Peterborough Minetta wood canvas canoe in his memory….the first trip I took in that canoe was the Biggar Lake loop….and my Dad was with me the whole way. I’ve since sold the Minetta, but my Dad would have loved that I got a Peterborough wood canvas canoe to take that special trip together.

I was lucky enough to be in a canoe at at a fairly young age….my Dad bought a Peterborough wood canvas canoe when I was about 5 years old….and we went on many trips with that red canoe….mostly day trips. One of our favourite local spots was the Holland River near Bradford….sometimes we would head up towards Lake Simcoe, often ‘dodging’ huge power boats (usually cabin cruisers) and their wakes….but mostly heading the other way towards Hwy. 400 (some times we would go all of the way to Hwy. 400….from Yonge Street….a huge ‘journey’ by canoe, at least for me at 6 years old)….paddling through wooded areas that grew up alongside the Holland Marsh….well actually my Dad did most of the paddling….I would sit on the bottom of the canoe, handing out the sandwiches my Mom had made for our ‘canoe trip’, or pouring out cold drinks from a Thermos container. Those were wonderful times….a great way to spend time with my Dad (it was often just the two of us that went off on these adventures)….and something that definitely developed my later passion for canoes and canoeing.

My Dad took up kayaking later on….guess he couldn’t get anyone to tandem paddle with him in the canoe (well that is why kayakers use double paddles….instead of having two single blades paddling along LOL LOL)….actually my Mom didn’t really like being in the canoe….but they both got touring kayaks at White Squall….even got some instruction there….after all the family that paddles together stays together. They did paddle around lakes like Stoney Lake together….but often my Dad would just load up his kayak and take off for the day (he had a special car rack with rollers that he could easily load the kayak on with).

There were times though that my Dad and I would get together out paddling….we’d paddle around a lake in the kayaks (I’d borrow my Mom’s….yes, this means I’m admitting to being in a kayak LOL LOL) or I’d solo in a canoe. Of course, either way, it meant I had to actually paddle….no sitting in the bottom of the boat, pouring out cold drinks LOL LOL. And more times than not I might even have to admit that my Dad was a pretty fair paddler in a kayak….maybe it was the double blades, but there were times I had to work at keeping up with him in a solo canoe.

My Dad loved to get out in his kayak….in many local waters or sometimes in Haliburton or the Kawarthas. In fact, he’d been out in his kayak just months before he passed away (he was 85 years young). My Dad was proud of the fact that the Ormsby clan originated in Ireland….he had stickers with the emblem for SLIGO on it that he stuck on the back bumper of his car and on his kayak….Sligo was the town on the west coast of Ireland where our ancestors came from in the 1800s.

My Mom and Dad would’ve been married 60 years the month after he died (he even asked the doctor if he might make it to October 15^th to celebrate this event……for my Mom’s sake…..that was my Dad always thinking of others). My Dad had a great sense of humour and was quick with a story. My Dad loved people and he loved life.

My Dad was straight forward and told it like it was. He did a lot for others. My Dad and I didn’t always agree (and I know I disappointed him at times)…..but he only wanted the best for me…..as he did for others. I know he’s up there looking down on me, ready to kick my butt if I mess up…..or better yet to say “Way to go” when I finally do get it together.

I’m not sure what he would think of me messing around in canoes so much….I’m sure we’d have a discussion or two over the merits of kayaks vs. canoes LOL….but it was his passing that led me back to seriously paddling….you know sometimes when someone who was important in your life passes on, you think about the things that you shared together….the memories and the good times….and for my Dad and I that did involve paddling….and still does.

Paddles up until later then….and here’s to Dads….especially paddling ones.

After originally posting this, I found this online….very fitting I think….Andover Townsman: Paddle With Dad This Father’s Day….the town of Andover, Massachusetts (near Boston) is holding a Dad’s Day Paddle:

The town is offering a unique gift for local Dads this Father’s Day (Sunday, June 19). There’s a free canoe event that day at Foster’s Pond in Andover. The first-ever Dad’s Day Paddle is sure to be a gift to remember.

And in Ohio, the city of Mentor offers a Paddle With Dad program.

Interesting ideas, don’t you think?!?!?

June 6th marked another anniversary of the D-Day invasion.

My Dad was a WWII vet, having served in the Royal Canadian Navy. He never really talked much about the war. But I know he was involved on several Atlantic convoys, and even in the Normandy (he manned landing craft bringing troops onto the beaches). As I said before, even though my Dad passed away a few years ago, he is on my mind a lot. Especially this time of year. June 6th….Father’s Day….and June 30th which was his birthday.

A picture of my Dad taken while he was in the service:

I thought I would share a letter written by my Dad the day before D-Day:

So today I remember my Dad….as a paddler….as a person….as a veteran….but mostly as my father.

CANOEING POETRY TOUR

“FISH QUILL POETRY BOAT” SETS OUT ON THE GRAND RIVER

A floating poetry and music tour sets out by canoe on the Grand River outside Waterloo. From June 13th-23rd, six performers in three canoes will paddle from Elora to Six Nations of the Grand River Territory, giving readings and playing music at cafés, arts venues, and local heritage sites along the way.

Toronto, ON, May 23, 2013 – A group of artists is setting out on a ten-day poetry and music tour by canoe down the Grand River in southwestern Ontario. For the fourth year running, the group, calling itself Fish Quill Poetry Boat, will be paddling from Elora to the Six Nations of the Grand River Territory and performing their work in cafés, arts centres, and heritage sites along the way. Fish Quill Poetry Boat in 2013 is comprised of poets David Seymour, Gillian Savigny, Leigh Kotsilidis, Linda Besner, and Stewart Cole, with London musician Grey Kingdom.

Fish Quill Poetry Boat will kick off the tour with a performance in Toronto on June 13th at 8pm at the TRANZAC Club. Scheduled stops for Fish Quill Poetry Boat are the Elora’s Beaver House on June 15th, West Montrose Kissing Bridge on June 16th, Waterloo’s Words Worth Books on June 17th, Cambridge’s Wired Up Pugs Café on June 19th, Paris’ Cedar House Martini Bar & Grill on June 20th, Brantford’s Station Coffee House & Gallery on June 21st, and Six Nation’s Chiefswood National Historic Site on June 23rd. With the exception of Toronto (8pm) and Elora (2pm) all performances are at 7pm. Cambridge’s performance has a $10 cover charge, and all other performances are free.

One notable stop on the tour is Chiefswood National Historic Site on June 23rd. Chiefswood is the only surviving pre-Confederation Native mansion in Ontario, and is the birthplace and childhood home of celebrated writer and performer Tekahionwake, E. Pauline Johnson, best known for her iconic canoeing poem, “The Song My Paddle Sings.” The year 2013 marks the 150th anniversary of Pauline Johnson’s birth.  Curator Karen Dearlove says, “We believe that the Fish Quill Poetry Tour is a great way to feature contemporary poetry and creativity at a site known historically for fostering literary creative dreams.” Fish Quill Poetry Boat will be sharing the stage at Chiefswood with local Six Nations writers and performers.

Fish Quill Poetry Boat is in its fourth year, and canoes are once again being lent free of charge by Paris-based outdoor adventure company Treks in the Wild (www.treksinthewild.com). “A very cool idea,” says Andy Tonkin, canoeing guide and co-owner of Treks in the Wild, who will be coming along for the ride. The Grand River Conservation Authority and rare Charitable Research Reserve also sponsor the tour and will be giving presentations at select venues.

This year Fish Quill Poetry Boat has also put together an Indiegogo crowdfunding campaign. You can watch a video of Leigh Kotsilidis and Linda Besner explaining how the tour works by going to http://www.indiegogo.com and entering “fish quill” in the search bar, or at the following URL: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/fish-quill-poetry-boat–2. As a reward for contributions made, donors to the campaign can receive perks, such an anthology of past and present Fish Quill Poetry Boat participants. So far, that’s fifty poets and musicians!

Last year’s tour was featured in local newspapers including The Cambridge Times and the Brantford Expositor, and an interview with poet Linda Besner aired on The Grand 929’s Swap Talk.

Contact:

Leigh Kotsilidis

514-884-9283     leighkots@yahoo.ca

Linda Besner

416-830-7450     lindabesner@gmail.com

A canoe must fill many unusual requirements: it must be light and portable, yet strong and seaworthy, and it must embody practical qualities for paddle, pole, and sail. It must reject every superfluity of design and construction, yet satisfy the tastes of its owner and safely carry heavy dunnage through unpredictable conditions. These demands will be met by a builder both meticulous and clever – one who, through resourcefulness and dedicated craftsmanship, can build a canoe that will be an everlasting source of joy. It will provide pleasures that continue throughout the four seasons: loving labors that extend from spring refit through a summer and autumn of hard work and play, and on through the winter layup period of redesigning, building, and improving the canoe and its auxiliary gear.

I hope the author’s text….will impart….a proper understanding of of the creation of simple, graceful canoes. It is sad that the practical knowledge and technical skill necessary to build them has remained virtually uncommunicated. One can only hope that revealing a part of this information will result in a clearer understanding of the special bond between the traditionalist canoeist and the wood-canvas canoe. For indeed, a canoe reflects the spirit of its builder and user that develops a character more akin to a living thing than to a mere object of possession…. - Clint Tuttle (canoe builder and instructor of wooden boatbuilding), from the Foreword of Building The Maine Guide Canoe by Jerry Stelmok.

Time spent in a wooden canoe of fine lines and able handling qualities is intoxicating. Restoring vintage canoes or building such craft from scratch can be consuming. It will ruin a man or a woman for any other work. This is not to dismiss all canoe builders as rapscallions, curmudgeons, or reprobates. But in the majority of cases there are the symptoms of an addiction, or at least a suspension of common sense where canoes are concerned. We are kin to the hard-bitten trout fisherman who stands out in the wind and rain breaking ice from the guides of his fly rod for a chance at an early season rainbow, or the railbird unable to resist the summons of the bugle, knowing it will be followed by the starting gun which will launch the thoroughbreds from the gates. We all know better, yet we simply can’t help ourselves. Why else would we devote our most productive years attempting to revive an industry that has not known real prosperity since before the Great Depression? Today, at long last, wooden canoes and their construction are enjoying a quiet renaissance, and this only encourages us, adding fuel to our dreams. - From the Introduction to The Wood and Canvas Canoe: A Complete Guide To Its History, Construction, Restoration, And Maintenance by Jerry Stelmok and Rollin Thurlow.

Beautiful things made by hand carry within them the seeds of their survival. They generate a spark of affection. For some it’s sentimental, for some it’s the art of the craftsmanship, for some the beauty of the finished boat. People love these things and try hard to ensure they endure.

The survival of the wood-canvas canoe (to paraphrase John McPhee) is certainly a matter of the heart; a romantic affair. The economics are unfavorable. In fact, the wood-canvas canoe’s most conspicuous asset and advantage is that it’s a beautiful piece of art. It’s the Shaker rocking chair of outdoor sport – handcrafted, simple, clean, and functional. There’s nothing in it that doesn’t have to be there, but all of the pieces add up to more than the parts. It works well and looks wonderful doing it. - From Honeymoon With A Prospector by Lawrence Meyer

Sometime ago I mentioned a young new canoe builder, based out of the Greater Toronto Area….his name is Marc Russell….and he operates under the name of Gull Lake Boat Works (the website) plus there is a Facebook: Gull Lake Boat Works page (with more info).

Gull Lake Boat Works describe their work as: Custom Built wooden canoes, kayaks, and paddles; repairs and restoration for wood and synthetics; exclusive supplier to Kilcoo Camp, and proprietary builder of “the Kilcoo” 15.7′ canoe. One of the canoes (the Kilcoo model) they build is based on the Minto Marine design (originally built by May Minto). Here is a description of “the Kilcoo” 15.7′ canoe:

15.7′  length (based on Minto Marine model) – white cedar plank and ribs – #10 cotton duck canvas – white ash stems, gunwales, deep dish carrying yoke – white ash/cane seats – brass stem bands – brass/silicon-bronze hardware. A one of a kind wood canoe based on the classic Minto Marine canoe – narrow entry, low-riding canoe with sweeping lines. Very stable, approx. 70lbs. All wood is finished with 4 coats of Epifanes Clear Varnish. Canvas is impregnated with 4 layers of W.E.S.T. system epoxy and filler. Hull is finished with Epifanes Interim Coat and with 4 coats of Epifanes dark green (#62) Yacht Enamel. A brass serial number/ownership plaque is installed on the bow stem.

I first heard of Gull Lake Boat Works from an ad on Kijiji and then about the demonstration of canoe building that Marc put on at the Toronto Sportsmen Show last March (the Canadian Outdoor Equipment Co. folks gave Marc some space in their booth). A paddling friend, Roni Furst had seen their display at the Sportsmen Show….even got a chance to put some planking on a canoe they were working on at the Show. Here are some photos from their Facebook page:

Cottage Life article.

Marc Russell in shop.

Photos from Sportsmen Show. (Bottom two by Roni Furst.)

Kilcoo canoe.

All photos from the Gull Lake Boat Works Facebook page.

It is good to see a young builder out there….especially since several builders of wood canvas canoes are getting older….it’s good to see new blood getting involved….so that building wood canvas canoes doesn’t become a dying art.

From Gull Lake Boat Works, About Us:

Gull  Lake Boat Works is fully-functional boat shop that specialises  in creating custom-built canoes and kayaks for discerning enthusiasts.  With locations both in the GTA and in the  Haliburton Highlands, we have the means and capacity to build, repair, and  restore all types of small watercraft. 

Gull Lake Boat Works was  founded in 2008 by Head Builder Marc Russell, after an intensive apprenticship  with Master Builder Ron Frennette of Canadian Canoes.  Russell,   former Program Director of Kilcoo Camp (a  venerable, Toronto- based private summer camp located  near Minden, Ontario),  was charged with the mammoth task of rehabilitating and replacing Kilcoo’s  aging fleet of antique cedar plank and canvas canoes with their modern  equivalent – the Kilcoo 15.7’ canoe.  Gull  Lake Boat Works , named for the lake on which Kilcoo lays, was created to  facilitate and support this endeavour.                      

News travels fast, and as Kilcoo’s fleet grows so does  demand for private sales among not only camp alumni, but also paddlers and  collectors outside of the Kilcoo community.    Indeed, Kilcoo’s plan was featured in  Cottage Life Magazine, while GLBW was  invited to demo and display at the 2011 Toronto  Sportsmen’s Show.  

Now quickly  expanding to meet the demands of its various clientele, GLBW necessarily remains as it was first envisioned: a small and  personal operation committed to producing unique vessels that wed traditional  designs to modern methods, that define workmanship and durability, that join  function and finish, and that instill a continuing pride of ownership.

Please enjoy our  site and feel free to contact us.

Check out this video on Marc’s shop,  Adam’s Rib:

From Scouter Network is this link, http://www.rogerknapp.com/knap/peanuts.htm, to these two “Peanuts” comics featuring the World Famous Eagle Scout himself….Snoopy is obviously a leader of “men” LOL LOL:

Also from Scouter Network, also comes this cartoon,  http://www.scouter.com/clipart/image.asp?image=8812, that I’ve suggested some choices for a caption to:

My Top Ten Possible Captions:

1. “Go ahead you wake it up!!!!…..”

 2. “What do you mean the bear spray is in the tent?????”

 3. “I don’t care if Rick Mercer climbed into a bear den….”

 4. “This is a “pup” tent….not a bear tent.”

 5. “You “bear” up with it….I want to go to sleep.”

 6. “You snore loud. It’s like I was sleeping with a bear.”

 7. ”And the third little human said, “Who’s been sleeping in my tent?”

 8. “The “bear” truth is that I’m sleeping in the car….”

 9. “I love getting back to Nature too….but this is ridiculous…..”

10. “You were the one who wanted to rough it…..”

Obviously it’s a slow Sunday LOL LOL….but hopefully something here brought a smile to your face. Paddles up until later.

P.S. Happy Father’s Day!!!!!

From http://www.onestopwebmasters.com/top-10-happy-fathers-day-greeting-cards/.

From http://www.birthdaychoice.net/category/fathers-day/.

And in memory of my Dad….some with canoes in them:

From http://www.archiversonline.com/ideas/cards-and-invitations-fathers-day-canoe-outdoors-card-3657.

From http://www.doodlemama.com/2012/05/23/fathers-day-canoe-card/.

Just got this email and thought I should share:

June 15, 2013
Thank You Friends and Customers!

There are big changes at OSTROM OUTDOORS, as the retail store closes and the pack manufacturing business is put up for sale.

It’s been a wonderful 26 years designing and selling Ostrom packs. We want you all to know how much we appreciate your support for us and the Canadian Outdoor Industry. Thanks too, for the years of friendship and stories. However, it’s time to change gears. So we’ve decided to close the retail store
and sell the manufacturing business.

Ostrom Packs are Still for Sale
As of July 1, Bill will become a one person operation until we find a buyer. That means he will be filling orders, until you hear otherwise from us.  He will also honour our warranty.

Pack Manufacturing Business for Sale
•We are looking for a buyer for all our patterns and the brand. This includes the barrel harness, canoe packs/internal frame canoe packs, day packs, hiking packs, computer packs etc.
•There is huge potential for someone to take the Ostrom product line to the next level. The designs are popular, but require a more efficient manufacturing process and wider distribution network.
•We also have industrial sewing machines for sale. Call for details.

Ostrom Outdoors Retail Store – Clearance Sale – 313 Victoria Avenue East, Thunder Bay Ontario
•Our Thunder Bay store will close June 25, 2013. So there are clearance prices on paddles, pfds, Goal Zero solar rechargers, winter hats, mitts, sea to summit products, water bottles etc.
•Ostrom packs are NOT on sale.
•Store fixtures, e.g., racks and shelving are also for sale. Ask for photos and prices if interested.

Custom Design Still Available
Bill will continue to do custom design and prototype development work. So give him a call if you have got a design you want to take to market – packs, medical packs and duffle bags, military packs, cargo vests, harnesses.
Anything to carry a load.

In closing, we feel we’ve made many friends over the years, and will miss catching up at outdoor shows, hearing trip stories, and watching the kids grow up. This was a tough decision to make, but it’s not the end of the road for
the brand or the designs.

Take the time to play outside
Bill Ostrom & Anne Ostrom
Ostrom Outdoors
807-473-4499
bill@ostrompacks.com
http://www.ostromoutdoors.com

I will miss Bill and Anne at such events as the Toronto Outdoor Adventure Show….and I hope whoever buys this great business does carry on the great service and designs that Ostrom Packs have become known for. Ostrom Packs, like Bill and Anne Ostrom, are one of a kind. I wish Bill and Anne all of the best in their next endeavour, even if that is just to have a much deserved rest.

One of my favourite cartoonists is Paul Mason….I found the following on The Open Canoe Group: Cartoons By Paul Mason:

Cartoons by Paul Mason

Recently there has been concern over gas prices….this is from MacKay Cartoons:

Cartoon by Mackay Cartoons

Of course one of the nice things about canoeing is getting closer to nature….seeing all sorts of wildlife….this from Bluebison.Net: Some Animals In A Canoe:

Cartoon from Bluebison.net

Sometimes when paddling, Mother Nature can impede our way on water….and we may need to portage….or at least try to (from Paddling Life: Frik Outdoors Cartoon):

Cartoon from Frik Outdoors.

And now and then we make mistakes….such as reading plans properly when building a canoe (from Birch Canoes: Building Cartoon and many other sources):

Cartoon from Birch Canoes.

Just some of the examples of cartoons related to canoeing….hope you enjoyed.

Paddles up until later then.

Some time back, a serious history buff/interpreter sent a request for information regarding the size of paddles used by voyageurs and the request was forwarded to me, among others. This individual had questions regarding the length of voyageur paddles, especially the apparent difference between the bow man (avant), the steers man (gouvernail) in the stern of the canoe, and the middle men (or milieux).

The paddle inquisitor had apparently read many books and old articles, and according to him, two of which suggest the middleman paddle was only  2 feet long with a blade 3 inches!

He quoted from a book called The Voyageur by Grace Lee Nute (from page 26):

Three Sizes of paddle were used: the common paddle, about two feet long and three inched wide, which was used by the middlemen (milieux)…..

So I tried to answer as best I could….by turning to an online search.

First here’s some info on voyageur paddles:

From Red River Canoes, http://www.redrivercanoe.ca/Historic%20Paddles.htm:

Edwin Tappan Adney and Howard Chapelle write in the classic The Bark Canoes and Skin Boats of North America, “The voyageur was particular about his paddle; no man in his right mind would use a blade wider than 4 1/2 and 5 inches, for anything wider would exhaust him in a short distance.”

Let’s consider the use of paddles under traditional circumstances rather than today¹s recreational use, which involves only limited periods of time. Before the advent of roads, rivers and lakes were the highways throughout much of North America. To get anywhere, travelers would have to paddle their canoes hour after hour, day after day. A desirable paddle would allow the paddler to work all day without undue fatigue. A paddle that was too small would not be powerful enough to get the job done, whereas a paddle that was too large would excessively tire the paddler.

From the very fine Paddle Making blog, http://paddlemaking.blogspot.com/ :

Tuesday,  November 23, 2010

Voyageur Paddles – CL Sommers Canoe Base

Found this shot on FlickR featuring some decorative “voyageur” paddles at the CL Sommers Canoe Base in Minnesota.

They look very familiar to a paddle I posted on featured at 2008 Indian Summer Festival held in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

The paddle; The carved grip

I knew I had seen the distinct red tips somewhere before and then realized it was in a historical painting by Frederick Verner. Not the clearest image, but you can just make out the red tip on the paddle in the foreground.

Ojibway Indian Encampment by Frederick Arthur Verner, 1873 Macdonald Stewart Art Centre, Guelph, Ontario

Also from the Paddle Making blog, http://paddlemaking.blogspot.com/2009/09/walnut-laminated-voyageur.html:

Sunday,  September 20, 2009

Walnut Laminated Voyageur

A common paddle design marketed today is the so called “Voyageur” blade, essentially a straight side paddle with a wide, squarish tip, and recurved shoulders at the throat. Despite the persistant occurance of this design in modern stores, there is little evidence that it resembles anything that the real voyageurs may have actually paddled. Certainly in the paintings of Frances Anne Hopkins, the paddles don’t resemble this blade design. The only other time I’ve seen the recurved shoulder design is with an early Mi’kmaq design documented by Adney.

Graham Warren refers to this design more precisely as a “North West Voyageur” simply because it appears in the voyageur art of Howard Sivertson. For some examples, I checked out a book of his entitled, The Illustrated Voyageur: Paintings and Companion Stories which has some delightful anecdotes and illustrations, although probably not entirely accurate.

Cover of Sivertson’s Voyageur themed book

In any event, I had made this blank many months ago from scraps of black walnut and a 3/4″ wide strip of yellow poplar. Given the small width of the poplar, the walnut was laminated from the grip all the way to the blade resulting in a neat contrasting look in the shaft area. Walnut and Yellow Poplar are both very easy to carve and the simple, straight edges meant that cutting out and shaving down the blade and grip was very quick. This was one of the fastest paddles I carved out from a blank. Here are some pics of the job.

Unfinished paddle; Blade Closeup

Since I was using left over cutoff scraps, the grain pattern isn’t perfectly symmetrical on the blade. There’s also point on the blade where the grain reverses suddenly giving the appearance of a horizontal “scratch”.

I’ve read plenty of criticisms of this blade design on canoeing forums with many paddlers literally calling this blade shape a piece of junk. Personally I found it an acceptable design although the larger squarish tip certainly made for a noisy entry and the recurved shoulders tended to cause some cavitation and loss of power when paddling with a quick pace. But I found that if I slowed down and relaxed the pace it handled well with underwater recoveries. The walnut-poplar lamination also resulted in a super-light paddle and there’s no denying the rich-chocolatey appeal of the wood. Instead of adding any additional pyrography to this one, I’ve settled on simply oiling it and using it as an occasional light use paddle

Final work all oiled up

Or http://paddlemaking.blogspot.com/2009/12/canoe-museum-paddle-replicas.html:

Friday,  December 18, 2009

Canoe Museum Paddle Replicas

Not so long ago, I wrote a post about William Armstrong’s painting of a Hudson‘s Bay Store scene. It depicted a painted paddle with yellow and red checkered pattern.

William Armstrong Hudson’s Bay Store, Fort William c. 1860-1870 National Gallery of Canada (no. 30490)

Paddle Closeup

While strolling through the “Historic Fur Trade” section on a recent visit to the Canadian Canoe Museum, I came across a display with a reproduction of this very same paddle. Normally, I probably would’ve passed it by without much attention, but now understand a bit more of its significance.

Canadian Canoe Museum Replica

Also frequent throughout the museum are replicas portrayed in the many paintings of Frances Anne Hopkins, especially those portrayed in her classic painting, Voyageurs at Dawn.

Voyageurs at Dawn, 1871 Archives Canada

Decorated paddles laying on the ground centre of painting)

More paddles leaning against a rock face (far right of painting)

These bright scarlett paddles were decorated with various hash marks and chevron patterns. Here are some next to the museum’s huge Montreal Canoe display.

Voyageur Paddle Replicas

After searching these great resources, I turned to other info.

From The Voyageurs, The Backbone of the Fur Trade By Dorthea Calverley, http://www.calverley.ca/Part%2002%20-%20Fur%20Trade/2-002.html:

Even more precious, perhaps was his pipe. For fifty-five minutes in every hour his arms drove like pistons — forty strokes per minute. Then a five-minute break, if they were in suitable water. Occasionally during the day, and always just before a bad rapid, they would stop to light a pipe. They measured their day’s progress by “pipes” — three, four, or more.

Day began at dawn, four o’clock or earlier in an express canoe. At eight there was a brief stop for breakfast. At two there was a pause for lunch. At dusk the canoe was brought to shore and unloaded in the stream to be lifted gently to land. The bowman leaped into icy water and held the craft while the steersman also got out to keep the stern steady. Then the middle paddlers got out. Last came the bourgeois and any “gentlemen” clerks who climbed aboard the middlemen’s shoulders and were carried pick-a back to shore. Then the lightened canoe was walked gingerly to the bank. To embark the next morning, the procedure was reversed. At each portage the performance was again repeated. Since two to four tons of cargo also had to be handled off and on, no wonder the voyageurs preferred to run a rapid or pole or even track up a bad stretch of water!….

The voyageur’s worldly wealth consisted of forty pounds of allowable personal possessions, which included his blanket and clothes of rough homespun probably woven by his wife or mother, a spare red shirt and spare moccasins for he might wear out a pair when tracking over rough rocks. There was his beloved long sash and toque, the badges of his trade, woven or knitted by the dearest of his women folk at home. There was his blue hooded cloak or capote, made of thick homespun or grade blanket cloth, and perhaps a few trinkets to barter for the favours of the Indians maidens or for a fine fur for his favorite female. His paddle, often brightly painted, might be a present or heirloom from his voyageur-father. The local priest would have blessed it. It was his life, his safety and his pride. This he carried himself over his shoulder.

There were social classes among the voyageurs. The inexperienced began as paddlers in the middle of the craft. They were the milieux. After many journeys, when they knew the waters of the route in all moods, they might graduate to steersman. Then, he would stand in the rear, and by means of a long sweep turn the craft on orders from the bowman. Unlike a two-man sport canoe of today, a freight canoe could not “slalom” or turn on her centre. Steersman and bowman often became an inseparable team for the steersman could not see ahead due to the length of the canoe. He had to read every gesture of the man at the bow, like a catcher and pitcher in a baseball game.

After many journeys the steersman could advance to the bow position or avant at an advance in pay. All the middlemen had to do in a rapid was fend the craft off any rocks in the channel or speed or brake the progress. They were bossed by both the avant and the governail or steersman.

Regarding the height of voyageurs, I found the following:

From Festival du Voyageur info, http://www.sasked.gov.sk.ca/docs/francais/frcore/elem/progetud/PKK1-3.html:

One would expect Voyageurs to be men of heroic proportions, but usually they were not. The average Voyageur was five feet six inches in height. Had they been taller, they would have occupied too much precious space in the canot (canoe) already overloaded with provisions (cargo). But though the Voyageur was short, he was strong. He could paddle fifteen – yes, if necessary – eighteen hours per day for weeks on end and joke beside the campfire at the close of the day. He could carry from 250 to 400 pounds of merchandise on his back over rocky portages at a pace which made unburdened travelers pant for breath in their endeavour not to be left behind.

Finally regarding specific info regarding paddle length:

From PaddlerMagazine, http://www.paddlermagazine.com/issues/2000_1/feature1.htm:

Voyageurs, most of them under five-foot-six—shorter than your average 20th century 12-year-old. Short was best, because the small Voyageur took up less space, needed less food, and could easily use the standard four-foot, three-inch paddle. Hardy fools with a taste for adventure, Voyageurs were little more than indentured slaves to the companies that employed them. They usually paddled 15 hours a day, five to six men to a boat, their freight canoes larger than those the explorers used. Voyageurs had to handle boats measuring up to eight yards in length and by the 17th century, the canoes were made of wood, a sturdier material for whitewater encounters.

By trip’s end, with winter setting in, Voyageurs dipped their blades in ice slush around the fragile boats. Loaded with provisions and trade goods on the way into Canada’s interior, the boats were now burdened with a ton or more of stinking furs—and every day’s journey meant portages, sometimes a dozen or more, hauling the fur bundles over rock-and-swamp forest trails. The Voyageurs used tumplines, or portage collars, to carry their loads along the trails, trotting along at about three miles per hour, up to 200 pounds on each bent back. The tumpline wrapped around a bale of fur and rested across the Voyageur’s forehead. Settling the first 80-pound bale into place behind him at roughly hip-level, they then piled a second pack, sometimes even a third, atop the first. From What Voyageurs Wore, http://www.northwestjournal.ca/XVII1.htm:

There are a few other points to discuss regarding voyageurs’ bodies. Although it may be true that most voyageurs were short (5’4″ to 5’8″), so that they didn’t take up much room in the canoe, I haven’t found any clear evidence that this was the case during the 1774-1821 time period. In fact, voyageur Bazil Lucie was reportedly 6′ 3″. Although the majority of voyageurs were French-Canadian, there were also Native (primarily Iroquois, Huron, Cree, and Ojibway) and Mixed-Blood voyageurs. There was also a small number of Blacks and Hawaiians.

Finally, don’t forget that voyageurs supplied their own paddles ; milieux had short paddles (two feet long by three inches wide), while the avant and gouvernail, in the bow and stern of the canoe, had longer, wider paddles to enable them to paddle standing up. Voyageurs also had iron-tipped setting poles to help pole the canoe upstream if practical. Using paddles and poles for props may help reenactors bring to life the voyageurs’ very active, very dangerous occupation.

Now I hope that helps provide an answer to the question of the length of voyageur paddles….at least a bit….especially the above reference….because the avant and gouvernail would often stand up they needed longer paddles….the milieux did not. Therefore the paddles used by those in the bow or stern were longer than those used by the middle paddlers. I hope it also provides more insight into the voyageurs in general.

Paddles up until later then….for anyone looking for more info, I suggest they check with the Canadian Canoe Museum….Jeremy Ward (the CCM Curator) has built a 36 ft. bark canoe, which was even featured in Ray Mears TV series The Northern Wilderness…..and of course, also check out the Paddle Making blog….Murat is a keen historian on many things dealing with paddles, including those used by voyageurs.

NOTE: The length of two feet long and three inched wide, which was used by the middlemen (milieux) as Grace Lee Nute wrote in The Voyageur and also noted in the piece from What The Voyageurs Wore - and as both were recorded above – should be for the blade length, not the overall length of the paddle.

In regards to paddle length of the milieux and all paddlers one may have to take into consideration the amount of free board of both a loaded and unloaded canoe.

Hopkins artwork of shooting the rapids shows a canoe with no cargo with only passengers relaxed to a point that a tin cup and pouches is shown on the seat between the two paddlers seated behind the avant.

I would speculate that even the milieux carried paddles(at least a spare) of different blade/shaft lengths for perhaps moving from deep water lakes to rivers.

As we near the Summer Solstice (June 21), I find myself thinking of summer….warm and sunny….lazy days on the water….and especially canoe trips. I’m even thinking of the song In The Good Old Summertime….such as:

Nat King Cole (a classic version)

It is not too late to plan for a canoe trip….never too late to check out canoe routes….and to pour over maps. I’m checking out various routes in Temagami….a great online resource is Ottertooth/Temagami…..then there are great guides like Hap Wilson’s Temagami Canoe Routes….it’s still Canada’s best selling canoe guide after 30 years…..the latest edition sold out.

And there are so many excellent maps….the Friends of Temgami have been working on one that will be released to the public shortly…..great maps online at Ottertooth too….below is a general map of the Temagami area (although it doesn’t include one of my favourite areas, the Chiniguchi):

Image Source Page: http://www.icanoe.ca/html/parks_trails/park_trails.html.

So one of the places I plan on spending time in this summer is Temagami….I found these video clips on YouTube of a trip there in 2008:

Temagami ’08 Diamond and Lady Evelyn

Temagami ’08 Red Squirrel and Ferguson Bay

Temagami ’08 Sucker Gut and Lady Evelyn North

Then there was these:

Temagami 8 Day Canoe Trip – Part 1 of 2 (2009)

Temagami 8 Day Canoe Trip – Part 2 of 2 (2009)

As the videos state:

This is the footage taken from an eight day canoe trip I did with a friend of mine in the Temagami region in Ontario, Canada. It was my first trek in Temagami and it proved to be a tough go but worth every effort. The route involved about 41 lakes and rivers and I have a full one hour trip log in the wings that I will likely be posting on a future date to help anyone who would like to do this same trip or sections of it. To outline the loop we did, some of the bodies of water involved – starting with: Red Squirrel Lake, Eagle Lake, Sir Devon Lake, Lady Evelyn Lake, Sucker Gut Lake, Lady Evelyn River – South Channel, Diamond Lake, Sharp Rock Inlet and back to Red Squirrel Lake.

Of course, if possible, a trip to Temagami should include a visit to the old growth forest. Here’s an example:

Canoeing Old Growth

A visit to the Blueberry Lake old growth forest Temagami Ontario.

Sometimes one may be looking for a dose of humour too….and nobody comes to mind better than Kevin Callan….here are some of videos featuring Mr. Canoehead:

Speedo Man Visits Algonquin

Kevin Callan and his oddball neighbour, Ashley McBride (a.k.a. Speedo Man) go on a spring fishing trip in Algonquin park’s Dickson/Lavielle Lake – and share a few misadventures.

Canoeing Kawartha Highlands

Kevin and Ashley head into their secret fishing lake in central Ontario’s Kawartha Highlands Provincial Park..and recount (in a very humours way)the pleasures to be found there.

David Thompson’s Madawaska River

Second video of the Kevin Callan/Kip Spidell River Rat series. The paddlers retrace David Thompson’s last survey job – central Ontario’s the Madawaska River.

Algoma’s Ranger Lake Loop

The third River Rat film by Kip Spidell and Kevin Callan. This one the canoeist heads UP RIVER to witness Algoma’s old-growth pine on Megisan Lake.

Learning to Laugh at Yourself in Algoma

Songwriter David Hadfield sings about the misfortunes of author and canoeist Kevin Callan while paddling up the West Aubinadong River in Algoma, Ontario.

There are other videos of Kevin Callan on YouTube….not to mention many many more videos on canoeing and canoe trips to a number of different locations….check them out….while you’re waiting for the good ole summertime.

Paddles up until later then.

And remember that we’ll soon be in those Lazy Hazy Days of Summer:

A Paddling Version Of Lazy Hazy Days Of Summer

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Those days of being out in the canoe, getting out there

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Dust off the sun and moon, sing a song of the Voyageur

Fill up your pack, tie down the canoe, get your paddle and tent

Then lock the house up, now you’re all set 

Heading out on the road, following trails where others went

Oh you can hardly wait to get the canoe wet

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Going wherever the canoe takes you, wherever you steer

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

You’ll wish that summer could always be here

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer 

Those days of being out in the canoe, getting out there

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Dust off the sun and moon, sing a song of the Voyageur

Don’t hafta tell a girl and fella about paddling at night

Their canoe gliding quiet and still, out under a romantic full moon

Out under a clear sky, with stars twinkling so bright

A little cuddling, even a kiss, just enough to make any heart swoon

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer 

Going wherever the canoe takes you, wherever you steer

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

You’ll wish that summer could always be here

You’ll wish that summer could always be here

You’ll wish that summer could always be here – Mike Ormsby

From Wikipedia: Portage:

Portage or portaging refers to the practice of carrying watercraft  or cargo over land to avoid river obstacles, or between two bodies of water. A  place where this carrying occurs is also called a portage.

It’s the portage that makes travelling by canoe unique. – Bill Mason

….portaging is like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer: it feels so good when you stop. – Bill Mason

Anyone who says they like portaging is either a liar or crazy. – Bill Mason

On the portages the leaves hang limp and listless, and the still air is acrid with the resinous odour of boiling spruce gum. Here men sweat under enormous burdens: earlier in the summer, clouds of mosquitoes and black-flies would envelope them in biting swarms. But it is August, and the fly season is over, and those that are left are too weak to do any damage, and sit balefully regarding us from nearby limbs of trees. Pattering of moccasined feet on the narrow trail, as men trot with the canoes, one to a man, or step easily along and under their loads; and in a miraculously short space of time everything is over to the far side. –Grey Owl, “The Lost Brigade”

I have no desire for long portages. That’s like saying I desire traffic jams on the 401 when really all I really desire is to get home.

I have a desire for seclusion, for remoteness, stillness and silence, for portability, speed (when …it’s needed), and lightness. The mantra is “Go quietly, Carry little.” As you know, between Wellesley and Sudbury, often it is the long portages that take you to those places. I can go to Algonquin during peak season and not see another human for days, and I can do this simply by using portages that discourage most–and this is right off of Hwy 60.

And, although portages can be analogous to root-canal, they somehow bring depth and character to the trip, while you’re there, but also in memory. Like a pilgrimage, the physical strain wears down the body and opens it up to and is receptive to the solitude and even transcendence that the portage has brought you to.

Portages also represent something that runs counter to our culture of drive-thru convenience and auto-gratification. There is reward thinking about and completing a portage. At the end of the portage I gulp down the water and it may occur to me that I did not click a button to get this far. My body is almost broken, but the air is sweet. Even outside of the canoe world, there is a link between physical work and gratification and contentment. The link, however, is laid bare on some canoe trips.

In one of Olson’s books, he describes his favourite lake, the perfect lake in his mind, a lake that in the past he had spent days portaging and paddling to get to. One summer he decides to fly in, but quickly concludes that his experience of the lake and the area is not the same, is not as deep and meaningful. He is disconnected. To experience or to feel connected to his surroundings, he felt he needed the portages, the travel, the miles of paddling. The meaning of the place is not merely in the physical location, but in the journey.

Olson reminiscences fondly for both lakes and portages:

“I can still see so many of the lakes (whose shores and hills are forever changed after the storm): Saganaga, Red Rock, Alpine, Knife, Kekekabic, Eddy, Ogishkemunicie, Agamok, Gabimichigami, Sea Gull. It seems like yesterday… the early-morning bear on Brant Lake, that long portage from Hanson Lake to the South Arm of the Knife, that perfect campsite onJasper Lake…”

I don’t like portages, but they get me to where I want to go. And out there, it seems that while I don’t like them, they are the tough-lovers of canoe trip: they know better than me in preparing me for the place I am trying to get to both physically and emotionally. – Paul Hoy

The thought of having to carry all your worldly possessions on your back has been cause to modify the quintessential Canadian adventure canoe trip in terms of how many portages will be encountered. Paddlers now have mutated their own aspirations of adventure by eliminating the “carry”-the fundamental and historical pith of the journey, and choose a route with the least amount of work involved. – from Grey Owl & Me by Hap Wilson

After the previous blog entry on pack baskets, and doing some research, I found myself thinking of portages. Of the art of portaging. This is just a quick post….revisiting some thoughts on portaging….especially the art of the portage….sharing some quotes….and a few sketches pertaining to portaging….including a few that show alternatives to carrying the canoe over a portage….like lining. I’ve shared all or most of these before, but I thought I’d revisit….like one does a favourite canoe trip route.

From Scouter Network: Clip-Art (Image #20545):

Portage

From Scouter Network: Clip-Art (Image #20569):

Wading (definitely an alternative to portaging or lining)

Portage and Wading are two sketches by Hap Wilson (also found in his book, Temagami Canoe Routes).

From Jerry Stelmok: Artwork:

Begin The Carry (it usually feels like you have wings on at the beginning….)

A Bear Of A Carry (….but after a while it feels like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders)

Lining (if you don’t want to run….and don’t want to portage or wade….then line)

Reflections (you reflect sometimes on whether you should paddle or portage)

Now I have commented on portaging in previous posts here, such as:

Not exactly your regular portage but Hap Wilson tells a story of a guy portaging a canoe part way up Maple Mountain….until he found out it had already been done by a staff member from an area camp….never took a canoe up Maple Mountain (I’m not totally crazy) but I was with a group from Kandalore on a trip back in the 70s and we took a wanigan up to the top (but not up the tower at least LOL LOL….and just taking the wanigan up was crazy enough LOL LOL)….

I also wrote:

The truth is that knowing how to portage a canoe is a great skill to have….especially if you want to get away from the maddening crowds that can be found on some of the better known (and easier) tripping routes. A portage can carry you into a secluded lake where you are the only person around….to the perfect campsite next to a wonderful sandy beach….far far away from the regular beaten path….to places where stands of old growth pine can still be found…..where the songs of loons can be heard calling one another from distant lakes….or the howl of a wolf piercing the still night air, sending shivers up and down your spine….where the magical Northern Lights dance across the otherwise darkness….or you can wake up to a glorious early morning sunrise over the rocks and the trees and the sparkling waters. So grab your canoe and take that first step out along the trail.

I wrote a poem about my experiences canoe tripping which included the following verses:

As you near the far shore’s portage, you feel fresh, ready to carry the canoe Over the short yet rocky trail into the next small but distant lake Perhaps even to a welcoming campsite under the pines Settling down for the night under sparkling stars Maybe even catching glimpse of a shooting star or the Northern Lights

The cedar and canvas canoe rolls up onto your shoulders Not too much weight, a bit more than you remember from last year Just enough to let you know you’re still alive You double the carry over so you don’t overdo it Or maybe it’s just to take more time to see where you’re at

As you rest by a waterfall beside the path, you reflect on the day….on what lies ahead Still a few hours left before the sun sets….should be a full moon tonight Maybe you’ll hear the howl of a wolf…. the echo of a loon from a nearby lake You feel good….at ease….at home….and far from being alone The canoe and you have journeyed far…and still have farther yet to go

For each trip takes you away from the daily grind With each paddle stroke, there is definitely a greater peace of mind So you pick up your pack, walking the last of the portage Upon arrival, you launch the canoe onto the shining waters You and the canoe dance on into the remaining daylight

Paddles up until later then….and portages soon to be taken.

The canoe carried aboriginal people for thousands of years, followed then by the explorers and the missionaries and the engineers and the surveyors….until in modern times it gives us the gift of freedom. The canoe is a vehicle that carries you into pretty exciting places, not only into whitewater but into the byways and off-beaten places….You are removed entirely from the mundane aspects of ordinary life. You’re witnessing first hand beauty and peace and freedom – especially freedom….Flirtation with the wilderness is contact with truth, because the truth is in nature….I like to identify myself with something that is stable and enduring. Although [nature] is in a state of flux, it is enduring. It is where reality is. I appreciate the canoe for its gifts in that direction. - Kirk Wipper, from CBC Radio’s  Ideas program The Perfect Machine: The Canoe.

Watercraft was humankind’s most important conveyance outside of walking. - Kirk Wipper

In its contemporary use, the canoe and kayak become a medium to experience peace, beauty, freedom and adventure. These values are of utmost significance in a world which has lost much of its contact with the profound lessons learned in nature. To travel the paths in natural places makes all the differences and in this the canoe and kayak are essential partners. – Kirk Wipper

First, the canoe connects us to Ma-ka-ina, Mother Earth, from which we came and to which we must all return. Councils of those who were here before us revered the earth and also the wind, the rain, and the sun – all essential to life. It was from that remarkable blending of forces that mankind was allowed to create the canoe and its several kindred forms.

From the birch tree, came the bark; from the spruce, pliant roots; from the cedar, the ribs, planking and gunwales; and from a variety of natural sources, the sealing pitch.

In other habitats, great trees became dugout canoes while, in treeless areas, skin, bone and sinew were ingeniously fused into kayaks. Form followed function, and manufacture was linked to available materials. Even the modern canoe, although several steps away from the first, is still a product of the earth. We have a great debt to those who experienced the land before us. No wonder that, in many parts of the world, the people thank the land for allowing its spirit to be transferred to the canoe.

Hand-propelled watercraft still allow us to pursue the elemental quest for tranquility, beauty, peace, freedom and cleaness. It is good to be conveyed quietly, gracefully, to natural rhythms….

The canoe especially connects us to rivers – timeless pathways of the wilderness. Wave after wave of users have passed by. Gentle rains falling onto a paddler evaporate skyward to form clouds and then to descend on a fellow traveller, perhaps in another era. Like wise, our waterways contain something of the substance of our ancestors. The canoe connects us to the spirit of these people who walk beside us as we glide silently along riverine trails. – Kirk Wipper, in foreword to Canexus (also published as “Connections” in Stories From The Bow Seat: The Wisdom And Waggery Of Canoe Tripping by Don Standfield and Liz Lundell, p. 15) 

An interest in the wilderness means getting there, and getting there means canoes.- Kirk Wipper (from 2010 interview)

A better understanding of one’s past can only lead to better understanding of one’s present and one’s future. (Quote from slide at Kirk Wipper’s presentation in Gravenhurst in October 2010….shown on video of this talk by Brian Hayden, from his Docanoementary.)

You have to do what you can, do your best with what you are. And you have to believe in wilderness. If you do that you can’t go wrong. –  Kirk Albert Walter Wipper b Grahamdale, Manitoba, December 6th, 1923 d Peterborough, Ontario, March 18, 2011

….the canoe is not a lifeless, inanimate object; it feels very much alive, alive with the life of the river. – Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

There is nothing that is so aesthetically pleasing and yet so functional and versatile as the canoe. – Bill Mason

I have always believed that the Canadian Wooden canoe is one of the greatest achievements of mankind. There is nothing that is so aesthetically pleasing and yet so functional and versatile as the canoe. It is as much a part of our land as the rocks and trees and lakes and rivers. It takes as much skill and artistry to paddle a canoe well as it does to paint a picture of it. In this painting I wanted to capture the look and feel of a well-worn travelling companion. There’s hardly a rib or plank that isn’t cracked but after a quarter of a century it’s still wearing its original canvas. - Bill Mason, Canoescapes (NOTE: This was in reference to a painting done by Bill Mason of his favourite Chestnut canoe.)

There is one thing I should warn you about before you decide to get serious about canoeing. You must consider the possibility of becoming totally and incurably hooked on it. You must also face the fact that every fall about freeze-up time you go through a withdrawal period as you watch the lakes and rivers icing overone by one. Cross-country skiing and snowshoeing can help a little to ease the pain, but they won’t guarantee a complete cure. – Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

When you look at the face of Canada and study the geography carefully, you come away with the feeling that God could have designed the canoe first and then set about to conceive a land in which it could flourish. - Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

It’s the portage that makes travelling by canoe unique. – Bill Mason

….portaging is like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer: it feels so good when you stop. – Bill Mason

Anyone who says they like portaging is either a liar or crazy. – Bill Mason

It was the canoe that made it possible for the Indian to move around before and for several hundred years after the arrival of the white man. As the white man took over their land, the native people would regret the generosity which they shared their amazing mode of travel. The more I study the birchbark canoe and what it can do, the greater is my admiration of these people who were here long before we arrived.

The birchbark canoe is made entirely from materials found in the forest: birch bark, cedar, spruce roots, ash, and pine gum. When it is damaged, it can be repaired easily from the materials at hand. When it has served its purpose, it returns to the land, part of a never-ending cycle. - Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

….we need to be more aware of where we are headed and from whence we came. An appreciation of the canoe and acquisition of the necessary skills to utilize it as a way to journey back to what’s left of the natural world is a great way to begin this voyage of discovery. - Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

A journey by canoe along ancient waterways is a good way to rediscover our lost relationship with the natural world and the Creator who put it together so long ago. - Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

The path of the paddle can be a means of getting things back to their original perspective. - Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

….the age of the canoe is not gone; it’s just different. the canoe is no longer a vehicle of trade and commerce. Instead, it has become a means of venturing back into what is left of the natural world. It’s true there isn’t much left to be discovered, but there is much to be rediscovered about the land, about the creatures who live there, and about ourselves. Where do we come from and where are we going? There is no better place and no better way to follow this quest into the realm of spirit than along the lakes and rivers of the North American wilderness in a canoe. -Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

The first thing you must learn about canoeing is that the canoe is not a lifeless, inanimate object; it feels very much alive, alive with the life of the river. Life is transmitted to the canoe by the currents of the air and the water upon which it rides. The behavior and temperament of the canoe is dependent upon the elements: from the slightest breeze to a raging storm, from the smallest ripple to a towering wave, or from a meandering stream to a thundering rapid. - Bill Mason, Path Of The Paddle

It is certainly not my intention to convince everybody they should grab a canoe and take to the wilderness. We are all different, and our interests vary. That is how it should be. Some people are content to enjoy the land from the edge of the road or campground. Others are only happy when isolated from the synthetic world by many portages and miles of trackless wilderness. I used to think it was a major tragedy if anyone went through life never having owned a canoe. Now I believe it is just a minor tragedy. – Bill Mason, Path of the Paddle

Wilderness: a beautiful word to describe a beautiful land. Wilderness though is a white man’s concept. To the Native people, the land was not wild. It was home. It provided shelter, clothed and fed them. And echoing through their souls was a song of the land. The singing isn’t as loud as it used to be. But you can still hear it in the wind….in the silence of the misty morning….in the drip of the water from the tip of a paddle. The song is still here if you know how to listen. – Bill Mason, Song Of the Paddle

There’s probably some truth in the old argument that hordes of canoeists swarming around out here can also destroy wilderness. Ironically though the ultimate survival of wild places will depend on how well we are able to rediscover a sense of awe for the land….and how successful we are in passing this reverence along to our children. – Joyce Mason, Song of the Paddle

On wilderness: I like being out here. I like looking around. Listening. Seeing how the wilderness fits together. It’s like a puzzle. When we go in and change things, it upsets the balance. And what a great puzzle our world is. It’s beautiful, powerful, and mysterious. – Becky Mason

On her passion for the canoe: Sometimes when I’m hiking I feel like I’m crushing things under foot. But when I’m in a canoe I glide with the currents, feeling the tug of the water underneath. And that’s why it’s special to me. – Becky Mason

On why she paddles: Paddling is sensual. It touches my emotional side. Often I notice that my feelings change when I paddle. If I’m angry, upset or worried, these emotions just seem to slip away and a sense of peace settles over me. – Becky Mason

On her Dad’s art: Like him, I find that paddling can take you on a voyage of creativity where you store up experiences in your memory to treasure for a lifetime. – Becky Mason

Becky Mason’s essay Reflections, which I felt was worth repeating:

I have often thought about the connections that paddlers experience when canoeing. Peace, reflection and wonder come to mind. I suppose it’s a desire to seek a form of quiet meditation. I find it natural to turn to paddling as a meditation point. I’m not sure that the canoe is the real catalyst for me though. It’s the natural environment that really elevates my awareness and feeling of heightened spiritually and belonging. For instance, I would not feel at one with my surroundings if I was paddling indoors in a chlorinated pool, where as I might feel totally different if I had hiked into a remote waterfall.

But canoeing is in my blood. I have found that it is not a separate entity in my life but part of my psyche and personal make up. My Dad, by example, showed me that this balance was possible. He was always so busy and active, working and going non-stop for months at a time. Nevertheless, he recognised that he really needed the quiet solitude of a wilderness journey to nourish his soul and rekindle his spirit.

As far back as I can remember, I have been spending a part of my summer canoeing and camping in the wilderness. These have been memorable and rewarding trips but equally important for me is the hour or two of paddling I can squeeze into the middle of a busy week. I like to jump in my canoe and head out with no real destination or purpose, just letting the wind and my whims lead me where they may. Upon returning to my desk and slogging through the pile of stuff that needs attending I enjoy thinking of the adventures I will be able to continue on my next paddle.

It’s fun to fantasize about paddling. To imagine exploring further that tiny trickle of a headwater, that slowly builds and turns into a lively river with rapids I dance in, and chutes and falls I portage around, and mirror-like pools I spin and play upon. However, nothing can substitute for the real thing. So I do get out there. And when I do, that feeling of being at one with the land and water and air slowly surrounds and envelops me, it feels very calming and Zen like. And I know that in my dreams and in my life I will eagerly continue on, going just a little further down that creek to see what is there and what new wonders the wilderness will have to teach me. – Becky Mason

Canoeing is always an educational experience, fortunately learning is what makes it’s fun. - Paul Mason.

May every dip of your paddle lead you towards a rediscovery of yourself, of your canoeing companions, of the wonders of nature, and of the unmatched physical and spiritual rapture made possible by the humble canoe - Pierre Elliott Trudeau, foreword to Path of the Paddle by Bill Mason, 1980

What sets a canoeing expedition apart is that it purifies you more rapidly and inescapably than any other. Travel a thousand miles by train and you are a brute; pedal five hundred on a bicycle and you remain basically bourgeois; paddle a hundred in a canoe and you already a child of nature. – Pierre Elliott Trudeau

I know a man whose school could never teach him patriotism, but who acquired that virtue when he felt in his bones the vastness of his land, and the greatness of those who founded it. - Pierre Elliott Trudeau (From Exhaustion and Fulfillment: The Ascetic in a Canoe, 1944; also cited in  Pierre Elliott Trudeau: Why He Paddled by Jamie Benidickson, pp. 54-59, from Kanawa, Fall 2001.)

Paddling a canoe is a source of enrichment and inner renewal. – Pierre Elliott Trudeau

Canoeing gets you back close to nature, using a method of travel that does not even call for roads or paths. You are following nature’s roads; you are choosing the road less travelled, as Robert Frost once wrote in another context, and that makes all the difference. You discover a sort of simplifying of your values, a distinction between those artificially created and those that are necessary to your spiritual and human development. – Pierre Elliott Trudeau

I think a lot of people want to go back to basics sometimes, to get their bearings. For me a good way to do that is to get into nature by canoe – to take myself as far away as possible from everday life, from its complications and from the artificial wants created by civilization. Canoeing forces you to make a distinction between your needs and your wants. – Pierre Elliott Trudeau, Memoirs

A canoeing expedition….involves a starting point rather than a parting. Although it assumes the breaking of ties, its purpose is not to destroy the past, but to lay down a foundation for the future. From now on, every living act will be built on this step, which will serve as a base long after the return of the expedition….and until the next one. - Pierre Trudeau

Water reflects not only clouds and trees and cliffs, but all the infinite variations of mind and spirit we bring to it. – Sigurd Olson

….a man is part of his canoe and therefore part of all it knows. The instant he dips a paddle he flows as it flows. - Sigurd Olson, The Singing Wilderness.

The movement of a canoe is like a reed in the wind. Silence is part of it, and the sounds of lapping water, bird songs, and wind in the trees. It is part of the medium through which it floats, the sky, the water, the shores….There is magic in the feel of a paddle and the movement of a canoe, a magic compounded of distance, adventure, solitude, and peace. The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness, and of a freedom almost forgotten. It is an antidote to insecurity, the open door to waterways of ages past, and a way of life with profound and abiding satisfactions. When a man is part of his canoe, he is part of all that canoes have ever known. – Sigurd Olson from  The Singing Wilderness

My two old canoes are works of art, embodying the feeling of all canoemen for rivers and lakes and the wild country they were meant to traverse. They were made in the old tradition when there was time and the love of the work itself. I have two canvas-covered canoes, both old and beautifully made. They came from the Penobscot River in Maine long ago, and I treasure them for the tradition of craftsmanship in their construction, a pride not only of form and line but of everything that went into their building. When l look at modern canoes, of metal or fiberglass stamped out like so many identical coins. l cherish mine even more …Sixteen feet in length, it has graceful lines with a tumble home or curve from the gunwales inward …No other canoe I’ve ever used paddles as easily … The gunwales and decks are of mahogany, the ribs and planking of carefully selected spruce and cedar… - Sigurd Olson, Tradition

The canoes rode well, not too high in the bows, but just enough. Peterborough Prospectors were made for the bush and for roaring rapids and waves. They embodies the best features of all canoes in the north. They were wide of beam with sufficient depth to take rough water, and their lines gave them maneuverability and grace. In them was the lore of centuries, of Indian craftsman who had dreamed and perfected the beauty of the birchbark, and of French voyageurs who also loved the feel of the paddle and the smooth glide of the canoe through the water. All this was taken by modern craftsman who – with glues , waterproof fillers and canvas, together with the accuracy of machine tooled ribs and thwarts , planking and gunwales – made a canoe of which Northmen might be well proud. – Sigurd Olson

Such vivid awareness is swiftly lost today, but if it can be held into adulthood it enriches and colors all we do. How often in the wild country of the north I have been aware of the spirits of the voyageurs, the shadowy forms that once roamed the rivers and lakes. Often at night it seemed I could hear ghostly songs coming across the water, the rhythmic dip of paddles and the swish of great canoes as they went by. - Sigurd Olson

As long as there are young men with the light of adventure in their eyes or a touch of wildness in their souls, rapids will be run. – Sigurd F. Olson (Naturalist author of The Singing Wilderness)

The mist was all gone from the river now and the rapids sparkled and sang. They were still young as the land was young. We were there to enjoy it, and the great machines seemed far away. – Sigurd F. Olson (Naturalist author of The Singing Wilderness)

I remember long trips in the wilderness when food and tobacco were running low, when the weather for a week or a month had been impossible, and the joy that coming back meant in the satisfaction of long-thwarted hunger and comfort. In the light of reflection, that was the real harvest, something to remember whenever the going gets tough.

And that, I believe, is one of the reasons why coming home from any sort of a primitive expedition is a real adventure. Security and routine are always welcome after knowing excitement and the unusual. We need contrast to make us know we are really alive. – Sigurd Olson, from Contrast

In travelling great rivers and lakes, there are times when islands fade, hills and headlands recede, the water merges with the sky in a distant mirage of shimmery blue. These are the open horizons of the far north.

If it is calm, the canoes drifting through reflections with nothing to break the vast silence but the hypnotic swish of paddles, there are moments when one seems suspended between heaven and earth. If it is stormy and the lakes alive, with whitecaps and blowing spume, each instant is full of battle and excitement. When, after hours and sometimes days, the misty outlines of the lake take form again, islands slowly emerge and float upon the surface, headlands become real, one passes through a door into the beyond itself and the mystery is no more.

Life is a series of open horizons, with one no sooner completed than another looms ahead. Some are traversed swiftly, while others extend so far into the future one cannot predict their end. Penetrations into the unknown, all give meaning to what has gone before, and courage for what is to come. More than physical features, they are horizons of mind and spirit, and when one looks backward, we find they have blended into the whole panorama of our lives.- Sigurd Olson, fromOpen Horizons, 1969.

I can still see so many of the lakes (whose shores and hills are forever changed after the storm): Saganaga, Red Rock, Alpine, Knife, Kekekabic, Eddy, Ogishkemunicie, Agamok, Gabimichigami, Sea Gull. It seems like yesterday… the early-morning bear on Brant Lake, that long portage from Hanson Lake to the South Arm of the Knife, that perfect campsite on Jasper Lake…. – Sigurd Olson

The canoe was drifting off the islands, and the time had come for the calling, that moment of magic in the north when all is quiet and the water still iridescent with the fading glow of sunset. Even the shores seemed hushed and waiting for the first lone call, and when it came, a single long-drawn mournful note, the quiet was deeper than before. - Sigurd Olson, The Singing Wilderness

I would paddle out swiftly onto the open lake if the moon was shining down its path. It never failed to come to me when going down that brilliant shining highway into space. Most completely of all would I be taken when lying on my back looking at the stars. The gentle motion of the canoe softly swaying, the sense of space and infinity given by the stars, gave me the sense of being suspended in the ether. My body had no weight, my soul was detached and I careened freely through a delightfullness of infinite distance…. Sometimes the night cry of the loon would enhance the illusion. For long periods I would lie, having lost track of time and location. A slap of a wavelet would jerk me back into the present and I would paddle back to the glowing coals of the deserted camp fire, trying to fathom the depths of the experience I had been through. - Sigurd Olson, in his Journal, Jan. 20, 1930

The sun was trembling now on the edge of the ridge. It was alive, almost fluid and pulsating, and as I watched it sink I thought that I could feel the earth turning from it, actually feel its rotation. Over all was the silence of the wilderness, that sense of oneness which comes only when there are no distracting sights or sounds, when we listen with inward ears and see with inward eyes, when we feel and are aware with our entire beings rather than our senses. I thought as I sat there of the ancient admonition “Be still and know that I am God,” and knew that without stillness there can be no knowing, without divorcement from outside influences man cannot know what spirit means. - Sigurd Olson, The Singing Wilderness

The singing wilderness has to do with the calling of the loons….It is concerned with the simple joys, the timelessness and perspective found in a way of life that is close to the past. – Sigurd Olson

The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness, and of a freedom almost forgotten. - Sigurd Olson, 1956

Life is a journey, not the destination. – Unknown

As a society and a individual you become very stale. No challenge. Out here, I know exactly what I’m about. You can’t fake your character out here. Wilderness actually will bite you back. You are who you are. It’s good for the body and good for the soul. I want to be that 80-year old guy sitting on the porch and saying “I remember when…” as opposed to saying “I wish I did…” – Kevin Callan from “This Is Canoeing” video.

After an extended solo adventure I think back to my fears. Amazingly enough, what unsettles me most is not the loneliness which at time creeps up, the moment when complete darkness blankets the campsite, or being challenged by foul weather. It is when the trip is over and I am driving away from my place of vision and have to prepare myself mentally for the jam-packed expressway, crowded with thousands of people. More than once, I have turned tail on one of the cut-offs, phoned home to let someone know of my altered plans and headed back into the wilds for an few extra days – alone and content. – Kevin Callan, Ways of the Wild

When in doubt, keep the open end up, and the pointed end forward. – Signature from online canoeing forum.

On age: “For an old man, a canoe is ideal; he need only sit and move his arms.” – E.B.White

PADDLIN’ MADELINE HOME

I love a girl named Madeline I know she loves me, too For ev’ry night the moon is bright She rides in my canoe

At midnight on the river I heard her father call, But she don’t care and I don’t care If we get back at all

‘Cause when I’m paddlin’ Madeline home Gee! When I’m paddlin’ Madeline home First I drift with the tide, Then pull for the shore I hug her and kiss her And paddle some more

Then I keep paddlin’ Madeline home Until I find a spot where we’re alone Oh! She never says “No” So I kiss her and go Paddlin’ Madeline Sweet sweet Madeline Paddlin’ Madeline home

‘Cause when I’m paddlin’ Madeline home Gee! When I’m paddlin’ Madeline home First I kiss her a while And when I get through I paddle for one mile And drift back for two

Then I keep paddlin’ Madeline home Until I find a spot where we’re alone Oh! If she’d only say “Throw your paddles away” Paddlin’ Madeline Sweet sweet Madeline Paddlin’ Madeline home - Harry Woods (1925)

Paddle Your Own Canoe

I’ve traveled about a bit in my time,

And troubles I’ve seen a few.

And found it better in ev’ry clime

To paddle my own canoe;

My wants are small I care not at all.

If my debts are paied when due.

I drive away strife, in the ocean of life

While I paddle my own canoe.

If a hurricane rise in mid’day sky

And the sun is lost to view

Move steadily by, with a steadfast eye

And paddle your own canoe.

Fields of daisies that grew in bright green

And blooming so sweet for you

So never sit down, with a tear or a frown

But paddle your own canoe. – Irish ballad, circa 1840, published in Jane Benedickson’s Idleness, Water and a Canoe

Voyage upon life`s sea, To yourself be true, And, whatever your lot may be, Paddle your own canoe. - Sarah Bolton

. . . as one goes through life one learns that if you don’t paddle your own canoe, you don’t move. - Katherine Hepburn

This isn`t exactly a stable business. It`s like trying to stand up in a canoe with your pants down. – Cliff Robertson

Acceptance is the art of making the obstacle the path. Therefore, embrace the enemy. This is the lesson of the river guide: face the danger, move toward it, that’s where the current is the strongest, and it will carry you around the obstacle. Use it. — China Galland (author of The Bond Between Women and Women in the Wilderness)

So dat’s de reason I drink tonight

To de man of de Grand Nor’ Wes’.

For hees heart was young.

An’hees heart was light

So long as he’s leevin’ dere –

I’m proud of de sam’ blood in my vein

I’m a son of de Nor’ Wes’ wance again –

So we’ll fill her up till de bottle’s drain

An’ drink to de Voyageur. - from The Voyageur by Henry Drummond

“I think,” said Christopher Robin, “that we ought to eat all our provisions now, so we won’t have as much to carry.”  - A.A. Milne, Winnie The Pooh

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day. - A.A. Milne, Pooh’s Little Instruction Book

Bottom line …..is that you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force it to learn how to paddle a canoe. – From online discussion on canoeing safety.

These waves didn’t look that big when I scouted it! - Signature from online canoeing forum.

And when I must leave the great river, O bury me close to its wave, And let my canoe and my paddle Be the only mark over my grave! - Traditional Folk Song

I sailed up a river with a pleasant wind, New lands, new people, and new thoughts to find; Many fair reaches and headlands appeared, And many dangers were there to be feared; But when I remember where I have been, And the fair landscapes that I have seen, Thou seemest the only permanent shore, The cape never rounded, nor wandered o’er.” – Henry David Thoreau,  A Week on the Concord and MerrimackRivers

Wherever there is a channel for water, there is a road for the canoe. – Henry David Thoreau

Everyone must believe in something. I believe I’ll go canoeing. – Henry David Thoreau

A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.- Henry David Thoreau,from the chapter“The Ponds”inWalden

It is wonderful how well watered this country is…. Generally, you may go any direction in a canoe, by making frequent but not very long portages. - Henry David Thoreau

The canoe implies a long antiquity in which its manufacture has been gradually perfected. It will ere long, perhaps, be ranked among the lost arts. — Henry David Thoreau, The Maine Woods

It was inspiriting to hear the regular dip of the paddles, as if they were our fins or flippers, and to realize that we were at length fairly embarked. – Henry David Thoreau

God grant me the serenity to walk the portages I must,

The courage to run the rapids I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference. – Anonymous

Some people can’t stand the sound of paddles banging on an aluminum canoe, but I have a bigger problem with the sound of cedar splintering against rocks. – Anonymous

The trick of running whitewater is not to try to rid your stomach of butterflies, but to make them fly in formation. – Anonymous

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be! – Signature from online canoeing forum.

Wilderness areas are first of all a series of sanctuaries for the primitive arts of wilderness travel, especially canoeing and packing. - Aldo Leopold

…perhaps our grandsons, having never seen a wild river, will never miss the chance to set a canoe in singing waters…glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in. - Aldo Leopold

The good life on any river may… depend on the perception of its music, and the preservation of some music to perceive. — Aldo Leopold (American ecologist, forester, and environmentalist, considered to be father of American wildlife management)

I don’t think you can live with the flat, metallic lakes, the brooding firs and pines, and the great expanses of gray rock that stretch all the way from Yellowknife to Labrador, with the naked birches and the rattling aspens, with the ghostly call of the loon and the haunting cry of the wolf, without being a very special kind of person. – Pierre Berton, author

A true Canadian is one who can make love in a canoe without tipping. - Pierre Berton

Anyone can make love in a canoe, it’s a Canadian who knows enough to take out the centre thwart! - Philip Chester

Paddle solo, sleep tandem. - Caroline Owen

Love many, trust a few, and always paddle your own canoe. – Anonymous

Mind over matter, canoe over water. - Kevin Quischan

To canoe is to be moved. - Doug E. Bell

If there’s a place, canoe there. - Brent Kelly

Never trust a person who’s feet are dry and he is paddling a canoe. - Anonymous

May your portages be short and the breezes gentle on your back. - Anonymous

Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing- absolutely nothing- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. – K. Grahame – The Wind in the Willows

Why do we come to this place with its clouds of black flies and mosquitoes, the gravel road that rattles your bones, teeth and tires loose? Why do so many of us return year after year with the spring thaw? We migrate, not unlike other species, to the North, to the water, to the bush and shield rock country that makes up Northern Saskatchewan. We pack up our paddles and gear, strap our canoes on roofs- some of them nice, more of them dented aged jalopies- and instinctively make our way northbound on the CANAM highway.

People ask how I can stand the 13-hour, door to door drive to Missinipe. How do I explain a love for watching geography as it changes with each mile? How do I explain the burst of energy that I am infused with when I pass over the bridge in Prince Albert and the whole world changes from one of lush farmland to one of boreal forest with sneak peeks of lakes with their loons calling in the early evening? I don’t need to explain it to my dog for she wakes from her slumber to sniff at the windowsill. I open it for myself as much as I do for her, breathing in the scent of the Jackpines and fresh water. – Shannon Bond, Churchill River Canoe Blog

The worst portage ever is the next one! – Scott MacGregor

Get some colour in those cheeks! Paddle Naked! – Signature from online canoeing forum.

I feel the canoe is actually a metaphor for the Canadian character. It’s not loud, pushy or brassy. It’s quiet, adaptable and efficient, and it gets the job done. – Janice Griffith, former General Manager of the Canadian Canoe Museum

They say that one day God was fooling around, the way He does, and son of a gun if He didn’t make a canoe. Well, He’d made a lot of stuff, but that canoe really blew Him away. “Helluva boat,” He said. “But where am I going to paddle it?” All of a sudden, it came to Him. “I know,” He said. “I’ll make Canada.” – from Burying Ariel, by Gail Bowen

The canoe is a miracle. I cannot spend enough time on the water. My canoe is called “Margaritaville”. – Phil Chadwick

For Those Who Dig The Water! – Badger Paddles slogan

I like to tell our staff that guiding is ninety-five percent cooking, five-percent terror. – Neil Hartling, Nahanni

To travel alone is a risky business, especially into a wilderness; equally risky is to have dreams and not follow them. - Robert Perkins, Into the Great Solitude

We do not go into the green woods and crystal waters to rough it; we go to smooth it. We get it rough enough at home…. – Nessmuk, 1884

I went along to iron out the wrinkles in my soul. - Omond Solandt

Doing what you like is FREEDOM, liking what you do is HAPPINESS. - Unknown

Happiness is paddling a canoe on the river of life. – Unknown

May good friends and a good paddle always be at your side - Unknown

Originality is unexplored territory. You get there by carrying a canoe. You can’t take a taxi. – Alan Alda

There is a sense of timelessness and tranquility that goes with canoeing. These feelings come from fitting in with history, tapping a connection to our beginnings in the here-and-now and having a concern to preserve the future integrity of this activity. So past, present and future meet…. - Bob Henderson, Reflections Of A Bannock Baker from Canexus.

Temagami

Far in the grim Northwest beyond the lines

That turn the rivers eastward to the sea,

Set with a thousand islands, crowned with pines,

Lies the deep water, wild Temagami:

Wild for the hunter’s roving, and the use

Of trappers in its dark and trackless vales,

Wild with the trampling of the giant moose,

And the weird magic of old Indian tales.

All day with steady paddles toward the west

Our heavy-laden long canoe we pressed:

All day we saw the thunder-travelled sky

Purpled with storm in many a trailing tress,

And saw at eve the broken sunset die

In crimson on the silent wilderness. - by Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)

Give me a good canoe, a pair of Jibway snowshoes, my beaver, my family and 10,000 square miles of wilderness and I am happy – Grey Owl

The trail, then is not merely a connecting link between widely distant points, it becomes an idea, a symbol of self-sacrifice, and deathless determination, an ideal to be lived up to, a creed from which none may falter…. Stars paling in the East, breath that whistles through the nostrils like steam. Tug of the tump line, swing of the snowshoes; tracks in the snow, every one a story; hissing, slanting sheets of snow; swift rattle of snowshoes over an unseen trail in the dark. A strip of canvas, a long fire, and a roof of smoke. Silence.

Canoes gliding between palisades of rock. Teepees, smoke-dyed, on a smooth point amongst the red pines; inscrutable faces peering out. Two wooden crosses at a rapids. Dim trails. Tug of the tump line again; always. Old tea pails, worn snowshoes, hanging on limbs, their work well done; throw them not down on the ground. Little fires by darkling streams. Slow wind of evening hovering in the tree tops, passing on to nowhere. Gay, caparisoned clouds moving in review, under the setting sun. Fading day. Pictures forming and fading in glowing embers. Voices in the running waters, calling, calling. The lone cry of a loon from an unseen lake. Peace, contentment. This is the trail. – Grey Owl, from Men of the Last Frontier, pp. 78-79

River, sublime in your arrogance, strong with the might of the Wilderness, even yet must you be haunted by wraiths that bend and sway to the rhythm of the paddles, and strain under phantom loads, who still thread their soundless ways through the shadowy naves of pine forests, and in swift ghost-canoes sweep down the swirling white water in a mad chasse galerie with whoops and yells that are heard by no human ear.

Almost I can glimpse these flitting shades, and on the portages can also hear, faintly, the lisping rustle of forgotten footsteps, coming back to me like the whispers from a dream that is no longer remembered, but cannot die. – Grey Owl, Tales Of An Empty Cabin, p. 166

The town of Bisco was dropping fast astern as I dipped and swung my paddle, driving my light, fast canoe steadily Northward to the Height of Land. It was not much of a town as towns go. It has no sidewalks, and no roads, and consisted mainly of a Hudson’s Bay store, a saw mill, probably fifty houses scattered on a rocky hillside, and an Indian encampment in a sheltered bay of Biscotasing Lake, on the shores of which this village stood. But it was rather a noted little place, as, being situated within measurable distance of the headwater of a number of turbulent rivers…and being moreover the gateway to a maze of water routes that stretch Southward to lakesHuron and Superior, and Northward to the Arctic ocean, the fame of its canoemen was widely known. – Grey Owl, Pilgrims Of The Wild, p. 8

Steadily, day after day, he had forged ahead, sometimes moving along easily on smooth water as he was now doing, at other times poling up rough rapids, forcing his frail canoe up the rushing, foaming water and between jagged, dangerous rocks with a skill that few white men and not all Indians learn. This morning his way was barred by a water-fall, wild and beautiful, higher than the tallest pine trees, where the sun made a rainbow in the dashing white spray at the foot of it…Picking up the canoe, he carried it, upside down on his shoulders, over a dim portage trail between the giant whispering trees, a trail of years old, and on which the sun never shone, so shaded was it. He made a second trip with his light outfit, loaded his canoe, and out in the brightness and the calm water above the falls continued his journey. – Grey Owl, The Adventures of Sajo And Her Beaver People, p. 15

But there are those amongst us, some who have earned the right to follow their own judgement in such matters; these now take control of the situation. They are the “white water men”, to whom the thunderous roar of the rapids and the smell of spray flying in the face are as the intoxication of strong drink. – Grey Owl, Men of the Last Frontier

On the portages the leaves hang limp and listless, and the still air is acrid with the resinous odour of boiling spruce gum. Here men sweat under enormous burdens: earlier in the summer, clouds of mosquitoes and black-flies would envelope them in biting swarms. But it is August, and the fly season is over, and those that are left are too weak to do any damage, and sit balefully regarding us from nearby limbs of trees. Pattering of moccasined feet on the narrow trail, as men trot with the canoes, one to a man, or step easily along and under their loads; and in a miraculously short space of time everything is over to the far side. –Grey Owl, “The Lost Brigade”

The feel of a canoe gunnel at the thigh, the splash of flying spray in the face, the rhythm of the snowshoe trail, the beckoning of far-off hills and valleys, the majesty of the tempest, the calm and silent presence of the trees that seem to muse and ponder in their silence; the trust and confidence of small living creatures, the company of simple men; these have been my inspiration and my guide. Without them I am nothing. – Grey Owl

When I first ventured to Temagami in the early spring of 1970, paddling solo in a fourteen-foot cedar-canvas canoe, with the snow falling and the ice still partially on the lake, I passed through a portal into another world – Grey Owl’s world – and I knew I had found my home. - Hap Wilson, Grey Owl and Me, p. 18

The thought of having to carry all your worldly possessions on your back has been cause to modify the quintessential Canadian adventure canoe trip in terms of how many portages will be encountered. Paddlers now have mutated their own aspirations of adventure by eliminating the “carry”-the fundamental and historical pith of the journey, and choose a route with the least amount of work involved. - from Grey Owl & Me by Hap Wilson

Canoeing more or less defines who I am. Patched boats in the backyard affirm soul truths. My home, Canada, is not an abstraction; it is kindred canoe spirits and a constellation of sun-alive, star-washed campsites, linked by rivers, lakes, and ornery portages; scapes of the heart, rekindled by sensations that linger long after the pain is gone. When I meet someone, I wonder what they would be like on a trip. - James Raffan

The paddling rhythm allows us to focus on the here-and-now. Senses are tuned and aware, but not focusing on anything in particular. I’m aware of bodies falling easily into the monotony of the motion. The magic of paddling for hours in the efficiency of the action. For every action there is a resting phase – the yin (sic) of exertion, the yang (sic) of rest. For every expenditure of energy, there is renewal of breath and power from the motion of the boat. Resting phase: hands fall forward, shoulders tilt, the blade drops into the water and every part of the body evenly flexes to the task. Exertion: I look down and see my bare toes flex against the sand in the bottom of the boat as the stroke begins. The thigh follows, left more than on the right. The demand of the right side of my torso is smooth and even. The demand on the left side – the side I’m paddling on – is wave-like. I look down as the power of the stroke peaks: chest and upper arm flex together as the paddle swings forward again. Gail’s back shows the other side of the effort. Sheets of muscle in her back are a series of delicately shadowed triangles that focus their force towards her spine. Her shoulders glisten in the light and drop slightly as she tips forward and begins a new stroke. Watching the sequence of motion played out through the smooth muscles in Gail’s back makes me aware of a high-frequency tingling in the nape of my neck. I daren’t tip forward for fear of springing a wire. It seems odd that the paddle is the object being powered and the spine is the place from which the power is being dispatched. Our paddles enter the water on opposite sides of the boat, but I’m conscious right now that the power is centralized. It comes from the core. It’s motion derived of the soul and of the land whose energy flows through in every sense. - James Raffan

The all-wood canoes had aesthetic appeal, they were light and much more durable than their bark predecessors, and they were used by latter-day explorers such as the Tyrrell brothers, but for use in wilderness locations, for lugging rock samples, hunting equipment or survey instruments, there was a much more practical and durable design – the wooden canoe with a canvas skin. The Peterborough boat builders knew this technology and were using it to some degree, but some would say that, relatively speaking, they were well behind their counterparts in the northeastern United States. Builders at the E.M. White and Old Town canoe companies had been refining canvas-canoe manufacturing techniques since the 1850s, experimenting with canvas sandwiched between wwoden layers in the hulls of canoes, and with painted cotton duck as a skin on the outside of cedar ribs and planking that made the boat waterproof and protected the vulnerable wooden ribs and planking from abrasion and impact damage. – James Raffan, Fire In The Bones

The Canadian connection to these, arguably superior, New England canoes was through the owners of the hardware store in Fredricton, New Brunswick. Stiff tariffs had made it advantgeous for merchants in Canada to buy Canadian, which had protected the Peterborough canoe-building industry and its all-wooden boats, but the Fredricton “Daily Gleaner” reported in 1897 that Mr. W.T. Chestnut had imported a canvas canoe from a “leading and renowned boat building house in the United States, it being especially for use at Pine Bluff Camp.” The article maintained that this fine canoe would be exhibited at R. Chestnut and Sons’ hardware store for a few days. Shortly thereafter, the J.C. Risteen sash and door company in Fredricton (owned by a group including W.T. Chestnut and his brother Harry) started making a canoe identical to the imported American model and, in 1905, the venerable R. Chestnut and Sons canoe company was incorporated.

A curious aspect of this importation of an American canoe was that W.T. Chestnut secured a Canadian patent for the canvas-covered canoe design, despite the fact that the technology had been in use elsewhere in the country in one form or another for decades. Armed with this new patent, Chestnut launched a lawsuit against the Peterborough Canoe Company, alleging violation of its canvas-covered canoe patent. According to canoe historian Roger MacGregor, “Peterborough’s reply….was lengthy, detailed, and devastating. Chestnut did not even file a counter-reply.” And, MacGregor notes, as if to add insult to injury, another company, the Canadian Canoe Company of Peterborough, seeking entry to the canvas canoe market in 1907, simply acquired a Chestnut canoe in Fredricton and copied it exactly as Chestnut had done earlier with the American canoe. – James Raffan, Fire In The Bones

Although in later life Bill vehemently defended the virtues of his beloved Chestnut – his personal fleet included three, a 16′ Pal, a 16′ Prospector and a 17′ Cruiser – he could have been paddling any number of canvas-covered canoes built in the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s. In fact, there were on the market, for all intents and purposes, dozens of nearly identical models, made by various manufacturers in the United States and Canada, many of which had the model name “Prospector.” But, even as a class or type of canvas-covered canoe, the Prospector that became his favourite was entirely consistent with Bill and his view of the world. It was mostly made of natural materials – steamed white cedar ribs and planking; brass tacks and screws; cotton-canvas skin; and white ash or oak seats, thwarts and gunwales. It was solid; it was durable; it could be repaired in the field; and it moved quietly and responsively in all types of water. – James Raffan, Fire In The Bones

We need quiet places, and we need quiet ways to travel in them. We never quite realize how valuable they are until we’ve been paddling, camping, and fishing in them for a few days. Once cleansed of the residue of daily living, it’s possible to find what my son once called ‘a calm spot’ in your heart. It’s a good thing to find. – Jerry Dennis, From a Wooden Canoe

Requiem for a Paddler

So many times we sat in the woodsmoke of morning as the sun searched out our camp.

We felt the touch of a Creator whose name we did not know.

Someone conceived these places, and dreamed the perfect shape of a canoe.

So many times we would talk without speaking, move with a knowing.

Someone created us, not each of us, but the two of us – the something that makes us as one.

You are packed and leaving on a solo run. I will follow in time with hope that the current carries me where you have gone and we will once again sit in the rising mist

together.

I pray there is a God. - Peter G. Gilchrist

….the best I can do does not do the place much justice in the way of beauty. - Tom Thomson, letter to Dr. James MacCallum, Oct. 6, 1914, from Canoe Lake Station (MacCallum Papers, National Gallery of Canada Archives).

Take everything as it comes; the wave passes, deal with the next one — Tom Thomson, 1877-1917

Thomson had caught the bug of the North. He soon showed up at work carrying a new paddle, which he immediately tested out by filling one of the photoengraver tanks with water, then placing the tank beside his chair so he could sit down and practise paddling.

“At each stroke he gave a real canoeman’s twist,” recalled J.E.H. MacDonald, “and his eye had a quiet gleam, as if he saw the hills and shores of Canoe Lake.”  - from Northern Light: The Enduring Mystery of Tom Thomson and the Woman Who Loved Him by Roy MacGregor, p. 28

It has always fascinated me how the Aboriginal inventers of the canoe had the foresight to design a craft that would fit perfectly, upside down, on cars that hadn’t yet been imagined.

Not only that, but they had such a sense of fashion that their invention would fit like a dapper cap as car and canoe head up the narrowing highways toward certain adventure.

I mean, think about it – what other vehicle on Earth can you use as a hat when it rains, a shelter when it storms or a table when it’s time to eat?

And what other country would define its people by their ability to make love in such a vehicle? Certainly the Germans don’t do this with the Volkswagen “Bug”!

I love my canoe. Nothing in the material world has cost less; nothing has afforded me more opportunity to flee that world.

In this age of fretting over our carbon footprint, how comforting is it to know that you not only don’t require fuel but will not be spilling at the dock? For those who still follow the original art of canoe manufacturing, this is transportation that can be made from completely natural materials and can be maintained forever with natural repair materials.

Given such wonderful tradition, then, it is only appropriate that while we have the National Gallery in Ottawa to hold Tom Thomson’s Jack Pine and the Art Gallery of Ontario to show his West Wind, we also have the Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough to honour the craft that got him to such exquisite locations.

For the canoe is as much a part of the Canadian landscape as the trees, the rocks, the mountains, the rivers – and even the highways heading for essential escape. - Roy MacGregor, author and Globe and Mail Columnist

We are Canadians who took the time and hard work to feel the history in the stroke of our paddles and blisters in our boots. - Michael Peake

In Canada, whether or not we have much to do with canoes proper, the canoe is simply inside us. — Roger MacGregor

Wood and canvas canoes are strong, seaworthy, exceptionally responsive to the paddle and soothing to the human spirit – Hugh Stewart, master canoe builder, Headwater Canoes

The concept and the magic of a canvas-covered canoe is that it can have two, three, or even four new outer skins in its lifetime… These canoes are exceptionally recyclable and ultimately, except for screws, tacks and brass, biodegradable. — Hugh Stewart, wood-canvas canoe-builder and owner of Wakefield, Quebec’s Headwater Canoes

Going down a river or crossing a lake in anything but wood-canvas is like floating on a linoleum rug. That’s just how it looks when you glance inside one of those types of canoes and watch the bottom flex and shimmer with the water. Whereas, in any wood-canvas canoe you have all these beautiful rich colors of the cedar planking and ribs, hardwood gunwales and decks, and caned seats. Even the smells are nice and directly relate to the environment you are traveling through. - Jack Hurley, canoebuilder

I suppose there would always be an argument for the different types of materials and canoe designs, but the wood-canvas canoe is one generation away from the birchbark canoe and was made for working and transporting people through the wilderness. It was designed and made out of materials that would stand up to miles and miles of flatwater and whitewater and portaging through very rugged and unexplored terrain. As a trip leader with kids and adults, I have safely traveled across many lakes in a wood-canvas canoe in conditions where other experienced paddlers in the new-design boats were either windbound or took on water during the crossings. - Jim Spencer, canoebuilder.

A Recipe For Success:

STEAMED CEDAR WITH CANVAS

An elegant accompaniment to fish.

Make ahead of time for relaxed visit with friends.

51 board feet of peeled and deveined eastern white cedar

10 board feet of combined ash, black cherry, and maple

2600 brass tacks

18 feet of 10 weight canvas

¾ gallon of oil base filler

3 quarts of varnish

2 quarts of paint

Assortment of beer to taste (chilled if possible)

Using a large shop, prepare all ingredients the night before. Early the next day preheat element to high heat. Bring an adequate quantity of water in a large pot to a tumbling boil. Steam ribs until al dente (flexible) and bend immediately while still tender. Let stand at room temperature to blend flavors until cool. Chop cleaned white parts of planking into long thin slices, (smaller pieces will fall to ground). Add bulk of brass tacks and planks at random until ribs disappear (careful not to tenderize planking with pounding of tacks). When ingredients become solid remove from mold and set aside. Prepare gunwales and decks by chopping fresh hardwoods. Snip to length and desired shape, introducing slowly for best results. Wrap with canvas skin; skewer with tacks along edges, leave middle open. Add both caned seats and center thwart until balanced. Inlay decks for garnish.

Use the same basic recipe for fifteen and seventeen footers. Quantities will vary including concentration of beer.

Well before serving time, press filler firmly onto bottom side of prepared carcass to seal in natural juices and let marinate. Heat entire hull at medium to high sun for about three weeks, covering occasionally, until fully baked.  From a separate pot, baste inside with all-purpose varnish to glaze ribs, careful not to drip, and let harden. Repeat occasionally. Meanwhile, whisk and and gently combine, until mixed but not runny, an assortment of fresh paint to color, stirring occasionally as you serve, and dressing the outside lightly from end to end. The condiments blend even better if allowed to stand for several hours until sticky topping hardens. (Careful not to undercook, but do not let baking temperature bubble surface.) Repeat spreading of additional layers on outer crust and again set aside and let stand until hard. Cover and store in a safe spot until needed. Present whole at room temperature, arranged attractively on an adequate bed of water. If desired, garnish with cherry paddles as a starter. Bon voyage. Serves 2 to 3. (Note: Depending on degree of festivities, presentation may be turned into a dip.)  – Don Standfield, from Stories From The Bow Seat: The Wisdom & Waggery of Canoe Tripping by Don Standfield and Liz Lundell.

A canoe must fill many unusual requirements: it must be light and portable, yet strong and seaworthy, and it must embody practical qualities for paddle, pole, and sail. It must reject every superfluity of design and construction, yet satisfy the tastes of its owner and safely carry heavy dunnage through unpredictable conditions. These demands will be met by a builder both meticulous and clever – one who, through resourcefulness and dedicated craftsmanship, can build a canoe that will be an everlasting source of joy. It will provide pleasures that continue throughout the four seasons: loving labors that extend from spring refit through a summer and autumn of hard work and play, and on through the winter layup period of redesigning, building, and improving the canoe and its auxiliary gear.

I hope the author’s text….will impart….a proper understanding of of the creation of simple, graceful canoes. It is sad that the practical knowledge and technical skill necessary to build them has remained virtually uncommunicated. One can only hope that revealing a part of this information will result in a clearer understanding of the special bond between the traditionalist canoeist and the wood-canvas canoe. For indeed, a canoe reflects the spirit of its builder and user that develops a character more akin to a living thing than to a mere object of possession…. - Clint Tuttle (canoe builder and instructor of wooden boatbuilding), from the Foreword of Building The Maine Guide Canoe by Jerry Stelmok.

Time spent in a wooden canoe of fine lines and able handling qualities is intoxicating. Restoring vintage canoes or building such craft from scratch can be consuming. It will ruin a man or a woman for any other work. This is not to dismiss all canoe builders as rapscallions, curmudgeons, or reprobates. But in the majority of cases there are the symptoms of an addiction, or at least a suspension of common sense where canoes are concerned. We are kin to the hard-bitten trout fisherman who stands out in the wind and rain breaking ice from the guides of his fly rod for a chance at an early season rainbow, or the railbird unable to resist the summons of the bugle, knowing it will be followed by the starting gun which will launch the thoroughbreds from the gates. We all know better, yet we simply can’t help ourselves. Why else would we devote our most productive years attempting to revive an industry that has not known real prosperity since before the Great Depression? Today, at long last, wooden canoes and their construction are enjoying a quiet renaissance, and this only encourages us, adding fuel to our dreams. - From the Introduction to The Wood and Canvas Canoe: A Complete Guide To Its History, Construction, Restoration, And Maintenance by Jerry Stelmok and Rollin Thurlow.

Beautiful things made by hand carry within them the seeds of their survival. They generate a spark of affection. For some it’s sentimental, for some it’s the art of the craftsmanship, for some the beauty of the finished boat. People love these things and try hard to ensure they endure.

The survival of the wood-canvas canoe (to paraphrase John McPhee) is certainly a matter of the heart; a romantic affair. The economics are unfavorable. In fact, the wood-canvas canoe’s most conspicuous asset and advantage is that it’s a beautiful piece of art. It’s the Shaker rocking chair of outdoor sport – handcrafted, simple, clean, and functional. There’s nothing in it that doesn’t have to be there, but all of the pieces add up to more than the parts. It works well and looks wonderful doing it. - From Honeymoon With A Prospector by Lawrence Meyer

From Kettle River Canoes:

Any relationship worth having is worth preserving.

Crisp fresh air kisses your skin at first light. Your wooden canoe skims over still, misty water. Now, that’s our idea of a reality check.

If you only do what everyone else can do, where is the advantage in that? - Mike Elliott, canoebuilder

…..everything I do in the canoe workshop is influenced by and connected to my training in martial arts.

I have restored over 100 wood-canvas canoes in the past eight years. In that time, I have found that a successful canoe restoration demands a mind and body that work together in the present moment. As soon as I rush things, I make mistakes and have to start all over again. As soon as I think of myself as the expert, I find something I’ve never come across before. As soon as I think the task is simple, I get bogged down in complex problems. As soon as I obsess over technical aspects and try to think my way through them, everything grinds to a halt in a mass of frustration. And the more I try to get out of my head and get back to “the moment”, the worse the frustrations become.

I approach a canoe restoration with a mindset developed in my years as a competitive fencer. For me, it is an opportunity to immerse myself in the moment – now and now and now and now. When I succeed, the hammer drives the tacks straight into the wood – almost by itself. The hot, steamed wood bends to hug the canoe in a warm embrace. The work flows and I lose track of time. One minute I’ve just started the day and the next I’ve completed three days work in six hours.

But, just as in the fencing bout, as soon as I try to take credit for the accomplishment or repeat the masterful actions of the past, everything goes wrong. The tack jabs in under my fingernail as I attempt to grab it. I bend a new rib over the canoe only to find that it is upside-down and has to be thrown away. The air of the shop is filled with my not-so-quiet curses.

In those moments, I endeavor to see the cloud of frustration as a gift. Sometimes at least, I am able to catch myself and laugh at the situation and – with any luck – laugh at my approach to it. I take a deep breath and shake my head. Instead of trying to change the situation, I revel in the fact that I am feeling frustrated. I practice learning how to stay with the day where nothing seems to be going my way. When I succeed in taking the day – and myself – for what it is, things tend to turn around. Paradoxically, as soon as I try to hold onto my feelings of frustration they vanish and the rest of the day flows effortlessly.

When it comes right down to it, you are not working on your old wood-canvas canoe, you are working with it. You and your canoe are active partners in search of a successful conclusion. You must listen to your canoe and accept its strengths and limitations. There will be times when you want one thing and your canoe simply has something else in mind. You must be prepared for times when things don’t go as planned. The fact is, when things work out the first time, it will be the exception rather than the rule. - from Zen in the Art of Wood-Canvas Canoe Restoration on The Canoeguy’s Blog by Mike Elliott (also of Kettle River Canoes)

Nothing feels like a cedar-strip canvas canoe - Omer Stringer, a confirmed traditionalist

Canoes don’t tip, people just fall out of them. – Omer Stringer

A great poem:

The Old Canoe by George Marsh (Scribner’s Magazine, October 1908)

My seams gape wide so I’m tossed aside To rot on a lonely shore While the leaves and mould like a shroud enfold, For the last of my trails are o’er; But I float in dreams on Northland streams That never again I’ll see, As I lie on the marge of the old portage With grief for company.

When the sunset gilds the timbered hills That guard Timagami, And the moonbeams play on far James Bay By the brink of the frozen sea, In phantom guise my Spirit flies As the dream blades dip and swing Where the waters flow from the Long Ago In the spell of the beck’ning spring.

Do the cow-moose call on the Montreal When the first frost bites the air, And the mists unfold from the red and gold That the autumn ridges wear? When the white falls roar as they did of yore On the Lady Evelyn, Do the square-tail leap from the black pools deep Where the pictured rocks begin?

Oh! the fur-fleets sing on Timiskaming As the ashen paddles bend, And the crews carouse at Rupert House At the sullen winter’s end; But my days are done where the lean wolves run, And I ripple no more the path Where the gray geese race cross the red moon’s face From the white wind’s Arctic wrath.

Tho’ the death fraught way from the Saguenay To the storied Nipigon Once knew me well, now a crumbling shell I watch the years roll on, While in memory’s haze I live the days That forever are gone from me, As I rot on the marge of the old portage With grief for company.

Additional verse written by Kirk Wipper for Kanawa Collection (now the Canadian Canoe Museum):

Tho’ they rest inside, in our dreams they’ll glide

On the crests of streams of yore.

In the mid-day sun, they’ll make their run

and night on a distant shore.

The travelers are gone their unmatched brawn

Who plied the mapless ways

But their craft we keep tho the paddlers sleep.

Their stars we seek today.

Another great poem:

West wind, blow from your prairie nest Blow from the mountains, blow from the west. The sail is idle, the sailor too; O! wind of the west, we wait for you. Blow, blow! I have wooed you so, But never a favour you bestow. You rock your cradle the hills between, But scorn to notice my white lateen.

I stow the sail, unship the mast: I wooed you long but my wooing’s past; My paddle will lull you into rest. O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west, Sleep, sleep, By your mountain steep, Or down where the prairie grasses sweep! Now fold in slumber your laggard wings, For soft is the song my paddle sings.

August is laughing across the sky, Laughing while paddle, canoe and I, Drift, drift, Where the hills uplift On either side of the current swift.

The river rolls in its rocky bed; My paddle is plying its way ahead; Dip, dip, While the waters flip In foam as over their breast we slip.

And oh, the river runs swifter now; The eddies circle about my bow. Swirl, swirl! How the ripples curl In many a dangerous pool awhirl!

And forward far the rapids roar, Fretting their margin for evermore. Dash, dash, With a mighty crash, They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.

Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe! The reckless waves you must plunge into. Reel, reel. On your trembling keel, But never a fear my craft will feel.

We’ve raced the rapid, we’re far ahead! The river slips through its silent bed. Sway, sway, As the bubbles spray And fall in tinkling tunes away.

And up on the hills against the sky, A fir tree rocking its lullaby, Swings, swings, Its emerald wings, Swelling the song that my paddle sings. – The Song My Paddle Sings, E. Pauline Johnson

Tu es mon compagnon de voyage! Je veux mourir dans mon canot Sur le tombeau, près du rivage, Vous renverserez mon canot

When I must leave the great river O bury me close to its wave And let my canoe and my paddle Be the only mark over my grave– From ‘Mon Canoe d’écorce’ (‘My Bark Canoe’) translated by Frank Oliver Call

The Canadian Shield was never a block to travel; in fact, it was the reverse, for the Shield helped to spin the web of interconnecting rivers and lakes that covers half of Canada, an unrivalled system of ‘highways’ extending over a quarter of a million square miles of forest-lakeland and comprising a good part of the whole world’s fresh water. - Eric W. Morse

At 1:20 a.m. Sunday, a Niagara Regional policeman had to radio somewhat sheepishly for help — his cruiser had just been rammed by a canoe. Constable Edwin Gilmore was checking a noise complaint when he spotted some happy tobogganers swooshing down the hill in a canoe. He parked his car at the bottom of the hill to find out what was going on. Several minutes later his car was clobbered broadside. About $50 damage was done to the cruiser and the canoe will never float — or toboggan — again. Police say no charges were laid because they could not find a section of the Highway Traffic Act which covered careless canoeing. – Canadian Press, February 1974

I think it much better that, as we all go along together, that every man paddle his own canoe — Character of ‘The Indian’ in The Settlers in Canada by Captain Marryat (1844)

For 24 years I was a light canoeman. I required but little sleep, but sometimes got less than I required. No portage was too long for me; all portages were alike. My end of the canoe never touched the ground ’til I saw the end of it. Fifty songs a day were nothing to me. I could carry, paddle, walk and sing with any man I ever saw… I pushed on – over rapids, over cascades, over chutes; all were the same to me. No water, no weather ever stopped the paddle or the song… There is no life so happy as a voyageur’s life; none so independent; no place where a man enjoys so much variety and freedom as in the Indian country. Huzza, huzza pour le pays sauvage! — anonymous coureur-de-bois quoted by a Hudson’s Bay Co. historian

What the camel is to desert tribes, what the horse is to the Arab, what the ship is to the colonizing Briton, what all modern means of locomotion are to the civilized world today, that, and more than that, the canoe was to the Indian who lived beside the innumerable waterways of Canada. — William Wood

A canoe is a canoe is a canoe — Anonymous

Even long ago there were some men who could not make all the things that were needed. In each camp there were only a few who could make everything. The hardest thing to build was the canoe. The man who could make a canoe was very happy because the people depended on it so much. –  John Kawapit Eastern Cree Great Whale River, Quebec

Canoeists and other primitive-trippers are not delighted to encounter others intent on the same private experience. How many visitors constitute the end of wilderness? — John A. Livingston

Had I done it alone by canoe I might have boasted a little. — Sergeant Farrar, RCMP, 3rd mate aboard the St. Roch, first vessel to circumnavigate North America

The romantic life of each colony also has a special flavour – Australian rhyme is a poetry of the horse; Canadian, of the canoe — William Douw Lighthall

… and to any others who have felt the thrill of the back country and still long to explore what might lie just around the next bend. I know of no better way of doing just that, than having a fine canoe under one’s seat, a sleek paddle in one’s hand, a little bug dope in your pocket, and a harmonica near the top of your pack. — Book dedication from Kenai Canoe Trails by Daniel Quick

It is difficult to find in life any event which so effectually condenses nervous sensation into the shortest possible space of time as does the work of shooting, or running an immense rapid. There is no toil, no heart-breaking labour about it, but as much coolness, dexterity, and skill as a man can throw into the work of hand, eye, and head; knowledge of when to strike and how to do it; knowledge of water and rock, and of the one hundred combinations which rock and water can assume- for these two things, rock and water, taken in the abstract, fail as completely to convey any idea of their fierce embracings in the throes of a rapid as the fire burning quietly in a drawing-room fireplace fails to convey the idea of a house wrapped and sheeted in flames. — Sir William Francis Butler, (key figure with the North West Mounted Police) in The Great Lone Land: A Narrative of Travel and Adventure in the North-West of America (1872)

And the paddle, in  the water, is a long, lost friend. There are times I’d like to wander down a river without end, In a hull of flowing cedar, carved by knowing hands, That sings of rushing water — the spirit of the land. - Shield by Dave Hadfield

Firewood, smoke and oranges, path of old canoe; I would course the inland ocean to be back to you; No matter where I go to, it’s always home again; To the rugged northern shore, and the days of sun and wind; And the land of the silver birch, cry of the loon; There’s something ’bout this country, that’s a part of me and you. – from ‘Woodsmoke and Oranges’ by Ian Tamblyn.

I have no interest in building a plastic canoe – Bill Miller

I’ve got 36 more years before I retire. I will gladly build my last canoe on my 100th birthday – Bill Miller

My hands are on every stage of production. If you spend two or three months making something, it becomes a chunk of you, like for a painter. - Will Ruch, Ruch Canoes, Bancroft, Ont.

The survival formula in canoe making is “being married to someone with a real job.” - according to John Kilbridge, Temagami Canoe Company, Temagami, Ontario

As someone said, canoeing is a fringe activity and wood canoes are the fringest of the fringe - Doug Ingram, Red River Canoes, Lorette, Man.

No one gets rich making canoes - Larry Bowers, West Country Canoes, Eckville, Alta.

The canoe is the most practical, efficient and satisfying way to travel through wild country, particularly on the Canadian Shield, where you can go almost anywhere. I think of that country every day of my life. One of the things I like best about canoe travel is that you are completely self-reliant. There is no dependence on mechanical devices. It is utterly simple. For me, the canoe means complete freedom – the ultimate escape. - Alex Hall

I have always had a desire to explore out-of-way places. Together, the canoe and this country’s many waterways provide the ideal combination. When travelling by canoe you seem to blend in rather than being an intrusion on your surroundings. – John B. Hughes

Ultimately, a paddling trip simplifies life. – Wendy Grater

Canoeing is the best way to become intimate with the land. You can cover so much more territory in a canoe. You don’t need to concentrate on your feet, thereby allowing your eyes to soak up the landscape around you. Travel by canoe is more about the journey than the destination. – Rolf Kraiker

Today, most Canadian canoeing is recreational. Many of us would assert that it is usually meaningful, aesthetically fulfilling and ecologically sensitive recreational canoeing. Admittedly, these modifiers are not present in the highly competitive, highly structured and technically oriented canoe racing sports which tend not to take place in a wilderness environment. But with these large exceptions, canoeing, certainly canoe tripping and lake water canoe cruising, tends to involve in varying degrees a quest for wilderness or at least semi-wilderness. It also involves a search for high adventure or natural tranquility or both. These activities are an integral part of Canadian culture. Bill Mason asserts that the canoe is “the most beautiful work of human beings, the most functional yet aesthetically pleasing object ever created,” and that paddling a canoe is “an art” not a technical achievement. That certainly means culture. - Bruce Hodgins, from Canexus, p.46

It’s pretty hard for me to go more than a few days without getting a paddle wet somewhere. For me, that stepping into the canoe and pushing off is a very special spiritual and physical experience. Bill Mason had it right: it’s like walking on water. It transports you to another way of being, another way of feeling – it restores my soul. – David Finch

I like to encourage people to paddle because it gives them a different way to experience the river, the landscape and…life. – David Finch

It is such a great way to take in a wide range of experiences. When we paddle, the experience of place moves from the brain to the heart, making it a life-forming experience. – Kevin Redmond

Nothing like paddling a canoe to restore the spirit and reconnect with this gorgeous planet that sustains us. - Dalton McGuinty, Ontario premier in twitter to Badger Paddles folks.

Over the weekend I realized what a skilled solo paddler can do – move the canoe sideways, pirouette around the paddle, and turn gracefully with a little forward momentum. Meditation in motion. If whitewater paddling is slam dancing, flatwater paddling is ballet. I had discovered another way to have fun instead of just crossing the lake. - Sheena Masson, from Confessions Of A Know It All Or Why To Take A Clinic in The Canoe In Canadian Cultures by Bruce W. Hodgins, John Jennings, Doreen Small

Dance with the Wilderness by Charles Burchill

Memories of still water Speak to your restless soul Calling you and your silent craft To the rippled reflection of the shore.

Rushing water spills over a ledge Scan for the V to point the way Eddy out and watch the swirl Now ride the wild wave.

Go and Dance Your partner waits.

Ideals by Charles Burchill

Who will speak for us now? Pierre and his canoe have left us. Bill and his Pal are gone. Politics threatens our union. Tell me when will it end.

We believed at Stockholm We believed in Rio. Now Voices from Kyoto fall. Where does it end.

When do we start?

PFD by Charles Burchill

Personal was the choice I made. The wind was calm, the waves were small. The distance was not much at all.

Freedom was what I wanted then. The way was short, just across the bay. No one knew I went that way.

Death called to me. The shore was dim, I could not swim.

The Spirit by Charles Burchill

The spirit has moved within me and draws me back each year. It calls to me each spring, and every fall it draws a tear.

Every stroke’s a blessing each spring and summer day. Moving forward with my life in such a wondrous way.

How I love the tranquil sound of water rushing by. The quiet laughter on the hull lifts my spirit high.

To paddle with you is a joy; across the lake each fall. Of all the things I keep inside this I tell to all.

Once the spirit finds you your life will be complete. The love of paddle and canoe will keep your soul replete.

Just add water and a canoe….you will find freedom. – Mike Ormsby

I paddle a canoe as a past-time. Beyond the simple mechanics of paddling is the actual dance of the canoe. We create the sheer poetry of motion by making a rhythm or even music with the canoe; literally making the canoe dance. Just as there are no wrong notes in making music (at least in the purest sense), even if we don’t know the exact correct paddle strokes, we can move that canoe, creating our own poetry or dance. As we become more proficient in paddling we can create a more intricate dance. But when we come to add emotion to our paddling, we create a vision. Then that canoe dance almost seems to takes on a life of its own. It is more than just mere paddling…almost as if that canoe becomes an extension of ourselves. Freeing ourselves. And the canoe is the vehicle or instrument to such freedom. The freedom found in making beautiful music together with my canoe. – Mike Ormsby

When we come to add emotion to our paddling, we create a vision. Then our canoe can dance and almost seem to take on a life of its own. It is more than just mere paddling…almost as if that canoe becomes an extension of ourselves. Freeing ourselves. – Mike Ormsby

Perhaps it would be better to look at this whole process in terms of a canoe trip….you start out on a route that you’ve planned and mapped out….along the way you might find something of special interest that causes you to linger longer than at another…..perhaps you even decide to take a side trip or to stay out a bit longer, even go off in a new direction ….but if you’re travelling in a group, you are part of a team….hopefully cooperating to make the trip enjoyable for all….everybody has their role….some carrying packs across a portage, others the canoes….setting up camp…..cooking meals….even having a say in where they’re going…..there may be a trip leader, sometimes more than one….But when I think of leadership, I am reminded of watching a V-formation of geese in flight….the lead goose is sticking its neck out to break the air currents for the rest of the flock, thereby making it easier for the others to fly (as they “draft” in behind)…but if you watch that V-formation long enough, you’ll see that the lead goose will eventually fall back and another one will come up to take its place….so a good leader will stick its neck out for whoever is following, setting a good example for the others; but also a good leader knows when to let another lead, when to let others have a chance….These geese work together….to a common goal of getting where they need to be….like we do on a canoe trip….working towards a common goal…. – Mike Ormsby

A canoe is a very good way to get close to nature. While it is possible to make a canoe go pretty fast, it is the thrill of slowing down that appeals to most canoeists. Even when canoes do go fast, when they rocket rapidly through whitewater, they are still canoes. Still close to nature and its environs. It is not the canoe that provides the power, it is the water. The canoe rides the water and its occupants humbly steer.

In a canoe you can’t help but feel the body of the country, notice the shape of islands or hills, hear the cries of birds and the sound of the wind, yet still respond fervently to the hundreds of small things that make up the world about you. Take a canoe onto a lake at night and enjoy what it can do, acting as a launching pad to distant worlds, opening up a vista of stars in the sky. The canoe seems to float up to these very stars and far away planets, as the night sky becomes one with the dark silent waters, twinking stars reflected in murky depths until water and sky all seem to blend together in one great expanse.

Canoes can sneak up on loons or beavers or herons, even a mighty moose, silently getting you closer than you can imagine. The canoe becomes part of its surroundings, becoming part of the natural world, and so completely that even once discovered it doesn’t scare such creatures. The canoe is just part of their world, accepted as always being there. It might be that the canoe has been such a familiar sight for so long, for so many years in the north country. In no particular hurry, the loon or the beaver slip quietly under the water if at all bothered by any such intrusion. Usually the moose will just stand there, holding its ground, patiently out waiting the canoe and its paddlers, unless it tires and lumbers off to the safety of the nearby bush.  The heron takes flight with its dignity intact, probably thinking: “It’s only a canoe, but I’ll just move away a bit anyway.” – Mike Ormsby

In the early morning light, just as the world seems to wake up and come alive, the canoe glides over the glass like lake. The beautiful wood canvas hull easily slices through the lake’s surface, water slipping aside almost as if willed, forming undulating wavelets in its wake. Above the ripples, the paddle hovers momentarily like a dragonfly, before dipping down to break the intricate pattern formed. The canoeist seems lost in the moment.

On the wing over the watery expanse an eagle soars, in synchronicity with the man’s journey; as the paddler shifts to miss a rock, the raptor slows to test the wind. The large bird lazily wheels across the horizon, almost  touching the rays of the rising sun. Yet his flight seems to keep pace with the canoe below. The eagle rides the air currents while the canoe dances over those of the lake’s surface. As the paddle flashes in the early morning sunlight, dipping once again into the water, the eagle dives to capture his breakfast, a silvery trout. Then, only briefly, do both break the mirror reflecting their seemingly choreographed display. While they never quite meet except for that, it doesn’t stop the dance. One on water, the other in the air, they are partners, each moving rhythmically over a northern vista of rocks and trees and water.

Occasionally, such magical moments happen out on the water. For the canoeist, the lakes and rivers become more than mere passageways. Waterways become vantage points to observe all that is around,  carrying a message of life while still being the very lifeblood of Mother Earth herself. All at once, the paddler is both vessel and prophet, both audience and actor, just by merely venturing out on the water. Paddling these liquid highways takes the canoeist and canoe on a wonderful magical mystery tour, blending into the surrounding natural world.

The paddler is blessed to be able to join in the dance around him for awhile. While he watched, the large bird of prey flew off, likely to share his meal of fresh fish with his young brood nesting in a nearby lofty pine. Eventually the canoe glides on. A new dance may soon begin anew. - Mike Ormsby

“WANTED: Woman who will put up with a “canoehead”. Should be able to paddle well; especially good to have reliable cross-bow draw as I paddle in Class II  water at times. If she has own canoe that would be ideal. Better yet if she has a wood canvas canoe and lives near Algonquin, Temagami, Quetico or anywhere else that is in canoe country (and where in Canada isn’t canoe country?!?!?). Don’t care if she “outpaddles” me — in fact likely will. Must love canoeing and canoe tripping as much — or more — than she does me. Definite bonus if able to paddle solo as well as Becky Mason (then she could show me how to do all those fancy pivots and turns and make my canoe literally dance a canoe ballet). Probably should have good paying job as not much “financial reward” being a “paddle bum/canoehead”. However I do appreciate amazing sunsets over the water I’m paddling on (yes this means I am often late setting up camp) or the colour of the trees in fall or the taste of GORP on the trail ….as least as much as some do cuddling by the fireplace, romantic candlelit dinners, walks on the beach (all of which I’m not adverse to as long as it doesn’t cut into my time canoeing….and I don’t even want to get into the definition of a “true Canadian” being “somebody who can make love in a canoe without tipping”….suffice to say that I’m sure, at least, that any prospective female canoe partner might have figured out that taking out the centre thwart would make such a “defining” moment potentially easier….however it is far more important that she has the ability to carry the canoe herself over any portage no matter how long or rocky….plus to have a solid repertoire of various paddle strokes from the J to the running pry). Please forward pictures of canoe (or preferably canoes) owned – if she owns a kayak or two as well that will not be a problem. So paddles up, wanting to get together soon out on the water.” - Mike Ormsby

Lying on the cold stark ground, the body remains all but fully dismembered. Its back hasn’t been completely broken, but several ribs are splintered or at least badly cracked. What was once a bright coat of red colour lies tattered and torn, now dull and weathered from being exposed to the elements. The listless body lies prone, no longer able to dance as it once did, and rot has started to eat away at its very being. This body was once full of spirit, especially when it was in its best….now it lies mere feet from the water that gave it life. But while the tired old body seems to be a shell of its former self, maybe even a ghost of the grandeur it once was, all is not lost. Perhaps some kind soul will once again breathe life into these old bones. Mend the body and give it purpose again. For now the broken body merely waits hoping somebody finds it before its truly too late. So many such ghosts remain, often hidden away from view. Thankfully, people are out there looking to bring such bodies back from the brink of such unnecessary demise. - Mike Ormsby

Art Solomon

“Woman is the centre of the wheel of life. She is the heartbeat of the people. She is not just in the home, but she is the community, she is the Nation.

One of our Grandmothers.

The woman is the foundation on which Nations are built. She is the heart of her Nation. If that heart is weak the people are weak. If her heart is strong and her mind is clear then the Nation is strong and knows its purpose. The woman is the centre of everything.” — Art Solomon (Ojibwe), “Kesheyanakwan” (Fast Moving Cloud), Anishinaabe Elder.

“It is time for women to pick up their medicine and help heal a troubled world.” — Art Solomon (Ojibwe), “Kesheyanakwan” (Fast Moving Cloud), Anishinaabe Elder.

“The traditional way of education was by example, experience, and storytelling. The first principle involved was total respect and acceptance of the one to be taught, and that learning was a continuous process from birth to death. It was total continuity without interruption. Its nature was like a fountain that gives many colours and flavours of water and that whoever chose could drink as much or as little as they wanted to whenever they wished. The teaching strictly adhered to the sacredness of life whether of humans, animals or plants.” - Art Solomon, Anishinaabe Elder

“There comes a time when we must stop crying and wringing our hands and get on with the healing that we are so much in need of” - Art Solomon, Anishinaabe Elder

Grandfather, Look at our brokenness. We know that in all creation only the human family has strayed from the sacred way.  We know that we are the ones who are divided and we are the one who must come back together to walk in the sacred way. Grandfather, Sacred One, Teach us love, compassion and honor that we may heal the Earth and each other. – Art Solomon, Anishinaabe Elder

In other words of Art Solomon, an Anishinaabe elder: “To heal a nation, we must first heal the individuals, the families and the communities.”

The closing words of Elder Art Solomon at a conference at University of Sudbury in 1992 were:

“We listened to three women yesterday. What they had to say tells me that spiritual rebirth is happening; spiritual rebirth is absolutely essential. The imperative for us now, as Native people, is to heal our communities, and heal our nations, because we are the final teachers in this sacred land. We have to teach how to live in harmony with each other and with the whole creation. People will have to put down their greed and arrogance before they can hear what we are saying. I am not sure how many will do that. So we are in the process of healing ourselves, healing our communities, and healing our nations.”

Art also once explained:

“I am a craftsman and I know that the craftsman puts something of himself into everything he makes. … The Hopis say that the Creator was the first worker. And since he is perfect, what he has made expresses his perfection. He is in it…”

A passage from Art Solomon’s book, Songs for the People: Teachings on the Natural Way (NC Press) describes Aboriginal society prior to the arrival of Europeans:

“We were not perfect, but we had no jails, we had no taxes…no wine and no beer, no old peoples’ homes, no children’s aid society, we had no crisis centres. We had a philosophy of life based on the Creator. We had our humanity.”

Art Solomon was the eldest of ten children born to a French Canadian mother and Ojibway father in the Killarney region of Georgian Bay, and attended Roman Catholic residential schools.

Art shared some of his experience while teaching in the Native Studies Department at Laurentian University, Sudbury, Ontario:

“You were just a kid doing a man’s work. You know, we had to stand by that blacksmith fire well past what was reasonable or tolerable for children. We were kids, just like little Indian slaves. There was no one to comfort you or show you any care. For God’s sake, I couldn’t even see my sisters because they were all together, in another building. And, we, my sisters and brother were separated by the road between us. We could only go home once a year, maybe at Christmas, if we were lucky enough to have some one who was able to come. My Mother had nine of us and she sure as hell couldn’t leave her babies for us bigger ones. There was no money in those days. It was in the time of the First World War. My father couldn’t come because he was a lumberjack working in the bush. That was the season he had to do the cutting in. During the summer, he was a fishing guide, a deep sea fisher man and a sailor who would go by train to Minneapolis and Detroit to pick up the boats of the wealthy Americans who were coming to Killarney, on the Georgian Bay (of Lake Huron). There was lots of fish in the big waters (Lake Ontario and Lake Superior). It was a really hard time, those days. And that stuff stays with you. You learned it in your early childhood. It was really all you knew; the earlier stuff you forgot out of fear. Then we are left with trying how to figure it out on our own. It was very hard on my mother. We were a big help to her when we came home. But all that changed when they came back in August to take us away. That’s all I have to say about it”.

Art wrote the following:

A Song for the People

Grandfather, Great Spirit I give you thanks That we can sit here In this circle of Life, We send Prayers And the very best thoughts

Grandmother Great Spirit As we raise this sacred pipe To give thanks to you And to all of your Creation, We give thanks To the spirit helpers Who came and sat among us.

Grandfather, Most sacred one, These are your prayers That we send to you As we sit here together and pray

Grandmother your children are crying. Grandfather your children are dying. The hands of greed And the hands of lust for power Have been laid on them And all around is death and desolation The gifts you made, for all your children Stolen, And laid to waste In a monstrous desecration.

Grandmother Great Spirit, As we sit and pray together We send you this prayer of affirmation- We your children whom you created in your likeness and image- We will reach out, And we will dry our tears And heal the hurts of each other. Our sisters and brothers are hurting bad, And our children, they see no future.

We know Grandfather, that you gave us a sacred power, But it seems like we don’t know its purpose So now we’ve learned as we sat together, The name of that power is love, Invincible, irresistible, overwhelming power, This power you gave us we are going to use, We’ll dry the tears of those who cry And heal the hurts of them that are hurting.

Yes Grandmother, We’ll give you our hands And in our hearts and minds and bodies We dedicate our lives to affirmation. We will not wait nor hesitate, As we walk on this sacred earth We will learn together to celebrate The ways of peace, and harmony, and tranquillity, That come, And in the world around us. Thank you Grandfather for this prayer.

From  Eating Bitterness: A Vision From Beyond The Prison Walls by Art Solomon (who worked so actively on behalf of Native peoples in the prisons):

“When Christopher Columbus landed in North America not one Native person was in prison, because there were no prisons.  We had laws and order because law was written in the hearts and minds and souls of the people and when justice had to be applied it was tempered with mercy.  The laws came from the ceremonies which were given by the spirit people, the invisible ones.  As a people we were less than perfect as all other people are, but we had no prisons because we didn’t need them.  We knew how to live and we also knew how not to live.”

To quote Art Solomon again:

“Native people feel they have lost something and they want it back. It doesn’t necessarily mean that when I talk about going back over there, that we stay over there. You have to get those teachings and pick up those things that we left along the way. The drums, the language, the songs are all scattered around. We need to bring them into this time. You need these things to teach your children today in order to give them that direction and good feelings about who they are. They need to know where they are going. It doesn’t mean we have to go back to living in teepees. You can be a traditionalist and be comfortable wherever you are.”

The Wolf As A Teacher

To the Ojibway, the wolf is known as the teacher and it is said that we can learn much by watching the wolf.

“Perhaps it was the eyes of the wolf, measured, calm, knowing. Perhaps it was the intense sense of family. After all, wolves mate for life, are loyal partners, create hunting communities and demonstrate affectionate patience in pup rearing. Perhaps it was the rigid heirarchy of the packs. Each wolf had a place in the whole and yet retained his individual personality. Perhaps it was their great, romping, ridiculous sense of fun. Perhaps it was some celestial link with thw winter night skies that prompted the wolf to lay his song on the icy air. For the Native people who lived with the wolves, and the wolves once ranged from the Arctic to the sub-tropics, there was much to learn from them. Is it any wonder that the myths of many tribes characterise the wolves not as killers but as teachers?” — Unknown

“To look into the eyes of a wolf is to see your own soul” — Native proverb.

TWO WOLVES

An Native elder is asked by a young man about life.

“A fight is going on inside of me,” the elder said, “A terrible fight between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.”

He continued: “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside of you – and inside of each other person, too.”

The young man then asked the elder: “Which wolf will win?”

The elder simply replied: “The one you feed.”

Chief Dan George belonged to the Wolf Clan and his lament to the wolf as a symbol of the vanishing wilderness and traditions of his people has become famous:

“All of a sudden I realized why no wolves had heard my sacred song. There were none left! My heart filled with tears. I could no longer give my grandson faith in the past, our past.”

The wolf is a wilderness species that cannot survive the encroachment of its habitat by development and urban sprawl.

“Wolf is the Grand Teacher. Wolf is the sage, who after many winters upon the sacred path and seeking the ways of wisdom, returns to share new knowledge with the tribe. Wolf is both the radical and the traditional in the same breath. When the Wolf walks by you-you will remember.” - Robert Ghost Wolf

“The caribou feeds the wolf, but it is the wolf who keeps the caribou strong.” – Keewation (Inuit) Proverb

Wolf Credo: Respect the elders….Teach the young…Cooperate with the pack Play when you can…Hunt when you must…Rest in between Share your affections…Voice your feelings…Leave your mark.

When Christ said that man does not live by bread alone, he spoke of a hunger. This hunger was not the hunger of the body. It was not the hunger for bread. He spoke of a hunger that begins deep down in the very depths of our being. He spoke of a need as vital as breath. He spoke of our hunger for love.

Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. We must have it because without it we become weak and faint. Without love our self-esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world…

But with love, we are creative. With it, we march tirelessly. With it, and with it alone, we are able to sacrifice for others. – Chief Dan George

The beauty of the trees, the softness of the air, the fragrance of the grass, speaks to me.

The summit of the mountain, the thunder of the sky, the rhythm of the sea, speaks to me.

The strength of the fire, the taste of salmon, the trail of the sun, and the life that never goes away, they speak to me. And my heart soars. – Chief Dan George

May the stars carry your sadness away, May the flowers fill your heart with beauty, May hope forever wipe away your tears, And, above all, may silence make you strong. – Chief Dan George   What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the winter time. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the Sunset. — Crowfoot

Is not the sky a father and the earth a mother, and are not all living things with feet or wings or roots their children? — Black Elk (Medicine man of the Lakota (Sioux)

Give me the strength to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that is! — Black Elk (Medicine man of the Lakota (Sioux)

The Circle of Life

You have noticed that everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the Power of the World always works in circles, and everything tries to be round. In the old days, when we were a strong and happy people, all our power came to us from the sacred hoop of the nation and so long as the hoop was unbroken, the people flourished.

The flowering tree was the living centre of the hoop and the circle of the four quarters nourished it. The East gave peace and light, the South gave warmth, The West gave rain and the North, with its cold and mighty wind gave strength and endurance. This knowledge came to us from the outer world with our religion. Everything the Power of the World does, is done in a circle. The sky is round and I have heard the earth is round like a ball and so are the stars. The Wind, in its greatest power whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing and always come back again to where they were. The life of man is a circle from childhood to childhood and so it is in everything where power moves. Our Teepees were round like the nests of birds and these were always set in a circle, the nation ‘s hoop, a nest of many nests where the Great Spirit meant for us to hatch our children. ” – (Black Elk Speaks, pp. 198-200) Spiritual Advisor to the Oglala Sioux in 1930.

Then I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beheath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw the sacred hoop of my people was one of the many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy… — Black Elk (Medicine man of the Lakota (Sioux)

Like the grasses showing tender faces to each other, thus should we do, for this was the wish of the Grandfathers of the World. — Black Elk

We love quiet; we suffer the mouse to play; when the woods are rustled by the wind, we fear not. – Indian Chief, 1796, to the governor of Pennsylvania

I have learned a lot from trees;   Sometimes about the weather,   Sometimes about animals,   Sometimes about the Great Spirits. — Tatanga Mani “Walking Buffalo” (Chief of the Nakoda, medicine man, naturalist, and peace advocate)

May I walk   With beauty behind me,   May I walk   With beauty above me,   May I walk   With beauty below me,   May I walk   With beauty all around me,   May I walk   Wandering on a trail of beauty,   Lively, I walk. — Proverbs, Sayings and Songs, Navajo Indians

With the beauty before me,

The thoughts of the earth are my thoughts.   The voice of the earth is my voice.   All that belongs to the earth belongs to me.   All that surrounds the earth surrounds me.   It is lovely indeed, it is lovely indeed. — Proverbs, Sayings and Songs, Navajo Song

Hold on to what is good, even if it’s a handful of earth. Hold on to what you believe, even if it’s a tree that stands by itself. Hold on to what you must do, even if it’s a long way from here. Hold on to your life, even if it’s easier to let go. Hold on to my hand, even if someday I’ll be gone away from you. — A Pueblo Indian Prayer

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. — Chief Seattle, 1855, upon surrendering his land to Governor Isaac Stevens

There is no quiet place in white man’s cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in the Spring or the rustle of an insect’s wings. — Chief Seattle

You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our childresn–that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth, befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

This we know. The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself… — Chief Seattle

The old Lakota was wise, He knew that man’s heart, away from nature, becomes hard; he knew that lack of respect for growing, living things soon led to lack of respect for humans too. — Luther Standing Bear (Native American author)

The old people came literally to love the soil and they sat or reclined on the ground with a feeling of being close to a mothering power. It was good for the skin to touch the earth and the old people liked to remove their moccasins and walk with bare feet on the sacred Earth. Their tipis were built upon the earth and their altars were made of earth. The birds that flew into the air came to rest upon the earth and it was the final abiding place of all things that lived and grew. The soil was soothing, strengthening, cleansing and healing. – Luther Standing Bear (Native American author), from Land of the Spotted Eagle

We did not think of the great open plains, the beautiful rolling hills, and winding streams with tangled growth, as “wild.” Only to the white man was nature a “wilderness” and only to him was the land “infested” with “wild” animals and “savage” people. To us it was tame. Earth was bountiful and we were surrounded with the blessings of the Great Mystery. Not until the hairy man from the east came and with brutal frenzy heaped injustices upon us and the families we loved was it “wild” for us. When the very animals of the forest began fleeing from his approach, then it was that for us the “Wild West” began. — Luther Standing Bear (Native American author)

Once in a while you find a place on earth that becomes your very own. A place undefined. Waiting for you to bring your color, your self. A place untouched, unspoiled, undeveloped. Raw, honest, and haunting. No one, nothing is telling you how to feel or who to be. Let the mountains have you for a day… — Sundance

We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. — Unknown, Haida Indian Saying

TEACHINGS

Eagles And Egle Feathers

The Eagle (Migizi in Ojibway) holds a very special place for Native peoples.  The Eagle soared so high in the heavens that Native peoples held it in high esteem since it was so much closer to the Creator. The Eagle became a power of vision, strength and courage. There are many special meanings and special uses for the Eagle.

Many Native teachings explain that Eagle is the Principle Messenger of Creator. Eagle flies the closest to Creator and, therefore, can see the past, present and future at a glance. Eagle sees the flow of change. Eagle alerts us to the changes so that we can respond appropriately. Eagle is the great illuminator and soars above us all, sometimes out of sight to us, but never out of its own sight. Eagle sees and hears all and sits in the east on the Medicine Wheel with the direction of leadership and courage.

In other words, Eagle is connected both to the spirit of Great Mystery and to the Earth and does both with ease. Eagle, therefore, is a powerful symbol of courage; that is why its feathers are such powerful tools for healing, and why there are special ceremonies for Eagle feathers. Eagle teaches us that it is okay to combine wisdom and courage — it is okay to be wise enough to know that a change needs to be made in one’s life and then finding the courage to execute the change.

A gift of an Eagle Feather is a great honor. It is a mark of distinction, one that could indicate that a rite of passage has been earned. The Eagle Feather represents the norms, responsibilities and behaviors that are all a part of the conditioning, learning and commitment to a spirit. It is in this way that life is honored and becomes whole.

The quill of an Eagle Feather represents stability, strength and foundation. In the Cycle of Life or wheel of life, it represents the spirituality of the people. This is where the beginning and ending meet. The quill represents the beginning and ending in the spiritual journey of life. Birth and death are represented here as rites of passage from and to the spiritual world. Conception, the nine month journey and childbirth are sacred and begin here. Traditionally, there were ceremonies or celebrations for the beginning of life.

The plume of an Eagle Feather or fluff is white, billowy and soft. It represents the purity, lightness and gentleness of a child full of the spirit and so new to the cycle of life. The plume is distinctive and usually a token of honor.

The plume in the Cycle of Life is the beginning of the formative years, childhood. It is the age of innocence, pride and dreams – a time for bonding and attachment to relationships, values, attitudes, behaviors, personalities, character and to the environment. It is a time for security and integration.

The vane of an Eagle Feather represents flexibility and adaptability with gentleness and firmness. The vane has a unique design as each feather is unique. Each individual is also unique. This is the expanded part of the feather just as youth are now expanding into the world and each is responsible for themselves.

In the Cycle of Life, the vane is the continuation of the formative years. The children have achieved their rights of passage, a boy becomes a hunter or warrior and a girl has reached womanhood. During this phase, there is learning and guidance. The mind, the mouth, heart and hand (avenues for the spirit) are being nurtured. Example and reinforcement are given in the proper direction to strengthen their spiritual well being and identity. It is a time of enrichment, logic and proof.

The entire feather is straight, strong, firm and gentle. The top portion represents the peak of life. The conduct of adulthood is to bring out the best in beauty and goodness. Men have achieved bravery, skill or character and have been renamed accordingly. Women have achieved a level of knowledge basic to the survival of the people. Self-discipline, survival skills, loyalty, solidarity, and respect within family are above all individual interests. The foundation laid for them is intact. Interdependence, empathy, insight and foresight enables them to be keepers and protectors of the culture. It is at this phase that marriage and child-bearing are foremost.

The opposite vane continues to represent flexibility and adaptability with gentleness and firmness. In the Cycle of Life, a level of seniority is established. Conduct of parenthood has been proven and movement into grand parenthood is inevitable. Relationships, community and nationhood are important. Responsibility for the welfare of others, young and old is the purpose of guidance. To encourage and support others is to give back what was given and to give more of one’s self.

As in the opposite, the plume of the Eagle Feather represents purity, lightness and gentleness. Purity in mind, body and spirit is achieved in old age. Elders become frail and weak like children. It is a very honorable age that speaks no arrogance or greed but the fulfillment of life to the best of one’s ability. They become the keepers of the wisdom with peaceful energy, authority and purpose. Elders are as highly esteemed as the Eagle.

Once again the quill represents the beginning and ending in the spiritual journey of life. Death is at the end of the Cycle of Life and is also a rite of passage into the spiritual world. The spirit lives on in the hearts and minds of loved ones into eternity. One has known his natural space, only once does he pass this way, he has made his journey. To honor death is to honor life as both are important in the spirit world.

One First Nations story is also about the eagle feather:

In the beginning, the Great Spirit above gave to the animals and birds wisdom and knowledge and the power to talk to men. He sent these creatures to tell man that he showed himself through them. They would teach a chosen man sacred songs and dance, as well as much ritual and lore.

The creature most loved by the Great Spirit was the eagle, for he tells the story of life. The Eagle, as you know, has only two eggs, and all living things in the world are divided into two. Here is man and woman, male and female and this is true with animals, birds, trees, flowers and so on. All things have children of two kinds so that life may continue. Man has two eyes, two hands, two feet and he has a body and soul, substance and shadow.

Through his eyes, he sees pleasant and unpleasant scenes, through his nostrils he smells good and bad odors, with his ears he hears joyful news and words that make him sad. His mind is divided between good and evil. His right hand he may often use for evil, such as war or striking a person in anger. But his left hand, which is near his heart, is always full of kindness. His right foot may lead him in the wrong path, but his left foot always leads him the right way, and so it goes; he has daylight and darkness, summer and winter, peace and war, and life and death.

In order to remember this lesson of life, look to the great eagle, the favorite bird of the Great Spirit. The eagle feather is divided into two parts, part light, and part dark. This represents daylight and darkness, summer and winter, peace and war, and life and death. So that you may remember what I have told you, look well on the eagle, for his feathers, too, tell the story of life.

Look at the feathers I wear upon my hand, the one on the right is large and perfect and is decorated; this represents man. The one on my left is small and plain; this represents woman. The eagle feather is divided into two parts, dark and white. This represents daylight and darkness, summer and winter. For the white tells of summer, when all is bright and the dark represents the dark days of winter.

My children, remember what I tell you. For it is YOU who will choose the path in life you will follow — the good way, or the wrong way.

Another First Nations teaching:

When the world was new, the Creator made all the birds. He colored their feathers like a bouquet of flowers. The Creator then gave each a distinct song to sing. The Creator instructed the birds to greet each new day with a chorus of their songs. Of all the birds, our Creator chose the Eagle to be the leader. The Eagle flies the highest and sees the furthest of all creatures. The Eagle is a messenger to the Creator. To wear or to hold the Eagle Feather causes our Creator to take immediate notice. With the Eagle Feather the Creator is honored in the highest.

When one receives an Eagle Feather that person is being acknowledged with gratitude, with love, and with ultimate respect. That feather must have sacred tobacco burnt for it. In this way the Eagle and the Creator are notified of the name of the new Eagle Feather Holder. The holder of the Eagle Feather must ensure that anything that changes the natural state of ones mind (such as alcohol and drugs) must never come in contact with the sacred Eagle Feather. The keeper of the feather will make a little home where the feather will be kept. The Eagle feather must be fed. You feed the Eagle Feather by holding or wearing the feather at sacred ceremonies. By doing this the Eagle Feather is recharged with sacred energy. Never abuse, never disrespect, and never contaminate your Eagle Feather.

The Fire Within

Each of us carries a fire within….whether it’s through the knowledge we have, or through our experiences and associations, we are responsible for maintaining that fire.

At the end of the day maybe we should ask ourselves: “how is our fire burning?” Maybe that would make us think of what we’ve gone through that day — if we’d been offensive to anyone, or if they have offended us.

Maybe we should reflect on that because it has a lot to do with nurturing the fire within. And maybe if we did that….to let go of any distractions of the day by making peace within ourselves….maybe then we could learn to nurture and maintain our own fire within.

Another teaching is about the differences between men and women….and finding a balance in relationships of any kind between the sexes:

How fire represents the man; men are responsible for keeping the fire at ceremonies; that fire is like that male energy….when we take part in a sweat lodge ceremony it is like being reborn from the womb of Mother Earth….the lodge is that womb….the fire that heats the rocks that go into the lodge from the fire are like the male seed entering the womb….the water put on those rocks is the female energy….water represents the female….water is the lifeblood of Mother Earth with the lakes, rivers etc. that feed her….so women are keepers of the water while men are the keepers of the fire….what does this have to do with relationships????….if man is fire and woman is water, then think of it this way: if you take fire and put it to water you create steam which is largely “invisible”….so too much on the male side can seem to make the female “disappear”…..if you take water and put it on fire, you can put the fire out….same thing then if too much on the female side; the male is “extinguished”….so it’s all about finding balance….not too much fire and not too much water….a balance or a “partnership” in learning to co-exist.

The Grandfather Story

Grandfather,

Look at our brokenness.

We know that in all creation

Only the human family

Has strayed from the Sacred Way.

We know that we are the ones

Who are divided

And we are the ones

Who must come back together

To walk in the Sacred Way.

Grandfather,

Sacred One,

Teach us love, compassion, and honor

That we may heal the earth

And heal each other.

Ojibway Prayer

Oh Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds

And whose breath gives life to everyone,

Hear me.

I come to you as one of your many children;

I am weak …. I am small … I need your wisdom

and your strength.

Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever

behold the red and purple sunsets

Make my hands respect the things you have made.

And make my ears sharp so I may hear your voice.

Make me wise, so that I may understand what you

have taught my people and

The lessons you have hidden in each leaf

and each rock.

I ask for wisdom and strength

Not to be superior to my brothers, but to be able

to fight my greatest enemy, myself.

Make me ever ready to come before you with

clean hands and a straight eye.

So as life fades away as a fading sunset.

My spirit may come to you without shame

Tree Singing

some have said they could go into the earth and sit there singing

some have said they would go up into trees

standing stone people were the ones who sent them there

sitting high up in the trees

trees grown from the sacred roots where they were one day

sitting inside the earth and singing with those stones

Seven Grandfather Teachings

The Seven Grandfathers are traditional teachings given by the Creator to the Ojibwe to teach them what is important so that they know how to live. The Seven Grandfathers are traditional teachings on Love, Humility, Honesty, Courage, Wisdom, Truth and Respect. Each of the Grandfathers is a lesson that is viewed as a gift of knowledge for the learning of values and for living by these values.

According to the aadizookaan (traditional story), the teachings were given to the Anishinaabeg early in their history. Seven Grandfathers asked their messenger to take a survey of the human condition. At that time the human condition was not very good. Eventually in his quest, the messenger came across a child. After receiving approval from the Seven Grandfathers, tutored the child in the “Good Way of Life”. Before departing from the Seven Grandfathers, each of the Grandfathers instructed the child with a principle.

Teachings:

Nibwaakaawin—Wisdom: To cherish knowledge is to know Wisdom. Wisdom is given by the Creator to be used for the good of the people. In the Anishinaabe language, this word expresses not only “wisdom,” but also means “prudence,” or “intelligence.” In some communities, Gikendaasowin is used; in addition to “wisdom,” this word can also mean “intelligence” or “knowledge.”

Zaagi’idiwin—Love: To know Love is to know peace. Love must be unconditional. When people are weak they need love the most. In the Anishinaabe language, this word with the reciprocal theme /idi/ indicates that this form of love is mutual. In some communities, Gizhaawenidiwin is used, which in most context means “jealousy” but in this context is translated as either “love” or “zeal”. Again, the reciprocal theme /idi/ indicates that this form of love is mutual.

Minaadendamowin—Respect: To honor all creation is to have Respect. All of creation should be treated with respect. You must give respect if you wish to be respected. Some communities instead use Ozhibwaadenindiwin or Manazoonidiwin.

Aakode’ewin—Bravery: Bravery is to face the foe with integrity. In the Anishinaabe language, this word literally means “state of having a fearless heart.” To do what is right even when the consequences are unpleasant. Some communities instead use either Zoongadikiwin (“state of having a strong casing”) or Zoongide’ewin (“state of having a strong heart”).

Gwayakwaadiziwin—Honesty: Honesty in facing a situation is to be brave. Always be honest in word and action. Be honest first with yourself, and you will more easily be able to be honest with others. In the Anishinaabe language, this word can also mean “righteousness.”

Dabaadendiziwin—Humility: Humility is to know yourself as a sacred part of Creation. In the Anishinaabe language, this word can also mean “compassion.” You are equal to others, but you are not better. Some communities instead express this with Bekaadiziwin, which in addition to “humility” can also be translated as “calmness,” “meekness,” “gentility” or “patience.”

Debwewin—Truth: Truth is to know all of these things. Speak the truth. Do not deceive yourself or others.

Another view of the Seven Grandfather Teachings is :

Wisdom

To cherish knowledge is to have wisdom.

Love

To know love is to know peace.

Respect

Is to honour all of the Creation.

Bravery

Is to face the foe with integrity.

Honesty

To be sincere when facing a situation.

Humility

Is to know yourself as a sacred part of the Creation.

Truth

Is to know all of these things and live them.

William Commanda

We have to have one mind for the Four Directions. Until we reach that one mind, we cannot be filled with understanding…. The Creator will not answer until you have just one mind, just like if you have one person. – Grandfather William Commanda, Algonquin Elder

It’s all spirit and it’s all connected. – Grandfather William Commanda, Algonquin Elder

And there are Four Corners of the Earth that we talk about, the Four Colors of people, and the Four Winds. You see the winds-they are spirits. – Grandfather William Commanda, Algonquin Elder

Traditional people of Indian nations have interpreted the two roads that face the light-skinned race as the road to technology and the road to spirituality. We feel that the road to technology…. has led modern society to a damaged and seared earth. Could it be that the road to technology represents a rush to destruction, and that the road to spirituality represents the slower path that the traditional native people have traveled and are now seeking again? The earth is not scorched on this trail. The grass is still growing there. - William Commanda, Mamiwinini, Canada, 1991

Central to all of Elder Commanda’s teachings are the fundamental concepts of equality, as well as respect for Mother Earth, for all life and for people of all racial and cultural backgrounds…Chief Commanda is convinced that the future of life on the planet depends on our learning to live together in harmony with nature upon the land… - Remarks of Robert Chiarelli, Mayor of Ottawa upon presenting Grandfather Commanda with the Key to the City in 2006.

As William Commanda, Elder from the Algonquian Nation and keeper of the sacred wampum belts, said in the opening of his June 10, 2010 message to the Algonquins of the Ottawa River Watershed:

I have been blessed by the guidance and strength of the Sacred Wampum Belts of our Anisninabe ancestors to assert their presence over the past forty years, and many, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, have been awakened to our history, wisdom and relevance in these times of unprecedented global uncertainty and chaos. But in our traditional way of thinking, the individual is only a cornerstone of a community, and we must bring our individual strengths together to recreate the strong communities we developed in the past. I have often said that Indigenous Peoples are the only ones who have never gone elsewhere to make new homes, we are at home here; we maintain the sacred unbreakable connections with Mother Earth, and we have to assert this reality with even greater vigour and perseverance in these times of war and strife, climate change and environmental crisis. Without doubt, Mother Earth’s voice is loud now, and she is calling urgently to draw us back to her. We have a crucial role to play in restoring balance on Earth, and our Earth based and cyclical ways of thinking have a vitally important role to play in human evolution and growth. We can all see the huge deficit and spiritually bankrupt legacy looming in the global landscape.

Let me finally add these words of William Commanda:  “we need this old knowledge in our teachings to get through this new age”.

Another very important Native teaching is the Seven Fires Prophecy and is one often spoken of by William Commanda:

Seven fires prophecy is a prophecy originally taught among the practitioners of Midewiwin. The prophecy marks phases, or epochs, in the life of the people on Turtle Island (North America). The Seven fires of the prophecy represent key spiritual teachings for North America, and suggest that the different colors and traditions of the human beings can come together on a basis of respect. Originally, the prophecy and the Ojibwa migration story were closely linked. However, the last half the prophecy appears to apply to all peoples in contact with the Anishnaabeg. Consequently with the growth of the Pan-Indian Movement in the 1960s and the 1970s, concepts of the Seven fires prophecy merged with other similar prophetical teaching found among Indigenous peoples of North America forming a unified environmental, political, and socio-economic voice towards Canada and the United States.

William Commanda, an Algonquin elder and former chief of the Kitigan-zibi Anishinabeg First Nation, was the wampum belt keeper for the Seven Fires Prophecy.

Seven Fires Prophecy

Originally, the prophecies were given by eight prophets in seven different time periods. According to oral tradition, all Algonquian nations located in the Wabanaki heard the first prophet. The remaining seven prophets appeared before and were recorded by the Anishinaabeg. A prophecy of each of these seven periods were then called a “fire”. The teachings of the Seven fires prophecy also state that when the world has been befouled and the waters turned bitter by disrespect, human beings will have two options to chose from, materialism or spirituality. If they chose spirituality, they will survive, but if they chose materialism, it will be the end of it.

First

In the time of the First Fire, the Anishinabe nation will rise up and follow the sacred shell of the Midewiwin Lodge. The Midewiwin Lodge will serve as a rallying point for the people and its traditional ways will be the source of much strength. The Sacred Megis will lead the way to the chosen ground of the Anishinabe. You are to look for a turtle shaped island that is linked to the purification of the earth. You will find such an island at the beginning and end of your journey. There will be seven stopping places along the way. You will know the chosen ground has been reached when you come to a land where food grows on water. If you do not move you will be destroyed.

In heeding this prophecy, the Anishinaabe peoples, after receiving guarantees of the safety of their “Fathers” (the Abenaki peoples) and their “allied brothers” (Mi’kmaq) of having the Anishinaabeg move inland, away from the Atlantic coast, mass migration of the Anishinaabeg took place, proceeding to the “First Stopping Place” known as Mooniyaang, known today as Montreal, Quebec. There, the Nation found a “turtle-shaped island” marked by miigis (cowrie) shells.

The Nation grew to a large number and spread up both Ottawa River and the St. Lawrence River. The second of the “turtle-shaped island” marked by miigis shells was at Niagara Falls.

Second

You will know the Second Fire because at this time the nation will be camped by a large body of water. In this time the direction of the Sacred Shell will be lost. The Midewiwin will diminish in strength. A boy will be born to point the way back to the traditional ways. He will show the direction to the stepping stones to the future of the Anishinabe people.

The oral traditions of the members of Council of Three Fires say that the realization of the Second fire came about the “Third Stopping Place” located somewhere near what now is Detroit, Michigan. The Anishinaabeg had divided between those who went up Ottawa River and those that went up the St. Lawrence River. After leaving the area about Niagara Falls, this group proceeded to the “Round Lake” (Lake St. Clair) and found the third “turtle-shaped island” marked by miigis shells. They continued westward until arriving along the southern shores of Lake Michigan but by this time, the evidence of the miigis shells were lost, and the southern Anishinaabeg became “lost” both physically in their journey as well as spiritually in their journey. The southern group of Anishinaabeg disintergrated into what today are the Ojibwa, Odawa and the Potawatomi. The northern group along the Ottawa River divided into Algonquin, Nipissing and the Mississaugas, but they maintained cohesion that was not maintained by the southern group.

Eventually, a Potawatomi boy had a dream and pointed the southern group back towards and past the “Round Lake“. The southern group rejoined not as a single Anishinaabe peoplehood but rather as a unified alliance called Council of Three Fires. Travelling east and north, and then west, the Council crossed a series of small islands known as “the stepping stones” until they arrived onto Manitoulin Island, described as the “Fourth Stopping Place” of the “turtle-shaped island” marked by miigis shell. There on the island, the Council met up with the Mississaugas, who then spiritually fully re-aligned the formerly lost southern group with the northern group who were never lost. The Odawa facilitated the “healing” and the island became synonymous as the “Odawa’s Island” in the Anishinaabe language.

Third

In the Third Fire the Anishinabe will find the path to their chosen ground, a land in the west to which they must move their families. This will be the land where food grows upon the waters.

From the cultural center on Manitoulin Island, the Ojibwe moved to the area about Sault Ste. Marie, where there was the next “turtle-shaped island” marked by miigis shell. Baawating or the “The Rapids” of the Saint Mary’s River became the “Fifth Stopping Place” of the Ojibwe. From this spot, the Ojibwe and the rapids became synonymous with each other, with the Ojibwe known by the Dakota peoples as Iyo-hahantonwan (“cascading-waterfalls people”) and later by the French as Saulteurs (“cascaders”) and Saulteaux (“cascades”). From here, the Ojibwe moved west, dividing into two groups, each travelling along the shores of Lake Superior, searching for the “land where food grows upon the waters”.

Fourth

The Fourth fire prophecy was delivered by a pair of prophets. The first prophets said,

You will know the future of our people by the face the light skinned race wears. If they come wearing the face of brotherhood then there will come a time of wonderful change for generations to come. They will bring new knowledge and articles that can be joined with the knowledge of this country. In this way, two nations will join to make a mighty nation. This new nation will be joined by two more so that four will for the mightiest nation of all. You will know the face of the brotherhood if the light skinned race comes carrying no weapons, if they come bearing only their knowledge and a hand shake.

The other prophet said,

Beware if the light skinned race comes wearing the face of death. You must be careful because the face of brotherhood and the face of death look very much alike. If they come carrying a weapon … beware. If they come in suffering … They could fool you. Their hearts may be filled with greed for the riches of this land. If they are indeed your brothers, let them prove it. Do not accept them in total trust. You shall know that the face they wear is one of death if the rivers run with poison and fish become unfit to eat. You shall know them by these many things.

While at the “Fifth Stopping Place“, the light-skinned people in big wooden boats, known as the French arrived. Consequently the French were called Wemitigoozhii (“wooden-boat people”). Though the French Crown was interested in colonialism, as far as the Anishinaabeg were concerned, the French appeared only interested in commerce and trade through mercantilism. Together with the French, the Anishinaabeg formed trade alliances, which not only extended French colonial powers into the heart of North America, but strengthened the political and military might of the Anishinaabeg.

After the French came the Zhaaganaash (“Off-shore ones”) of Great Britian. But out of the Zhaaganaash came the Gichi-mookomaan (“Big-knives”)—the Virginians (i.e. Americans).

Fifth

In the time of the Fifth Fire there will come a time of great struggle that will grip the lives of all native people. At the waring of this Fire there will come among the people one who holds a promise of great joy and salvation. If the people accept this promise of a new way and abandon the old teachings, then the struggle of the Fifth Fire will be will be with the people for many generations. The promise that comes will prove to be a false promise. All those who accept this promise will cause the near destruction of the people.

Sixth

In the time of the Sixth Fire it will be evident that the promise of the First Fire came in a false way. Those deceived by this promise will take their children aways from the teachings of the Elders. Grandsons and granddaughters will turn against the Elders. In this way the Elders will lose their reason for living … they will lose their purpose in life. At this time a new sickness will come among the people. The balance of many people will be disturbed. The cup of life will almost become the cup of grief.

Seventh

The Seventh Prophet that came to the people long ago was said to be different from the other prophets. This prophet was described as “young and had a strange light in his eyes” and said:

In the time of the Seventh Fire New People will emerge. They will retrace their steps to find what was left by the trail. Their steps will take them to the Elders who they will ask to guide them on their journey. But many of the Elders will have fallen asleep. They will awaken to this new time with nothing to offer. Some of the Elders will be silent because no one will ask anything of them. The New People will have to be careful in how they approach the Elders. The task of the New People will not be easy.

If the New People will remain strong in their quest the Water Drum of the Midewiwin Lodge will again sound its voice. There will be a rebirth of the Anishinabe Nation and a rekindling of old flames. The Sacred Fire will again be lit.

It is this time that the light skinned race will be given a choice between two roads. If they choose the right road, then the Seventh Fire will light the Eighth and final Fire, an eternal fire of peace, love brotherhood and sisterhood. If the light skinned race makes the wrong choice of the roads, then the destruction which they brought with them in coming to this country will come back at them and cause much suffering and death to all the Earth’s people.

Eighth fire

The Eighth Fire is a term arising from the teachings of the Seven fires prophecy. The teaching suggests that if enough people—of all colors and faiths—turn from materialism and instead choose a path of respect, wisdom and spirituality, environmental and social catastrophe can be avoided, and an era of spiritual illumination will unfold.

Traditions

Native cultures in their traditional nature are authentic and dynamic, fostering distinctive and sophisticated development. A sense of identity, pride and self-esteem are rooted in established spiritual principles.

Native spiritual life is founded on a belief in the fundamental inter-connectedness of all natural things, all forms of life with primary importance being attached to Mother Earth.

The Medicine Wheel

The symbol of the circle holds a place of special importance in Native beliefs. For the North American Indian, whose culture is traditional rather than literate, the significance of the circle has always been expressed in ritual practise and in art. The lives of men and women, as individual expressions of the Power of the World move in and are nourished by an uninterrupted circular/spiral motion. This circle is often referred to as the Medicine Wheel. Human beings live, breathe and move, giving additional impetus to the circular movement, provided they live harmoniously, according to the circle’s vibratory movement. Every seeker has a chance to eventually discover a harmonious way of living with their environment according to these precepts.

The Four Powers

Each of the four directions represents a particular way of perceiving things, but none is considered superior or more significant than the other. The emphasis is always placed on the need to seek and explore each of the four great ways in order to gain a thorough understanding of one’s own nature in relation to the surrounding world.

The four cardinal points of the circle transcend the mere compass directions. The directions themselves embody four powerful natural forces representing seasonal influences associated with various other powerful attributes.

North represents Wisdom. Its colour is white, its power animal is the buffalo and its gift is strength and endurance. From the South comes the gift of warmth and growth after winter is over, a place of innocence and trust. Its colour is green (or sometimes red), its power animal, the mouse. To the West is the place of introspection, of looking within one’s spirit. Its colour is black, its gift rain and its power animal the bear. The East is marked by the sign of the Eagle. Its colour is gold for the sun’s illumination, the new dawning sky and enlightenment. Its gift is peace and light.

Understanding the meaning of the Medicine Wheel depends on the concept that a person’s life consists of”conquering the four hills: Infancy, Youth, Maturity and Old Age. The four stages are celebrated in ritual as the four prime moments in life corresponding to the four directions.

The first hill is the South (innocence and trust) where the infant’s reception into life occurs. The second hill, that of introspection, in the West, becomes the youth’s solitary vigil and quest for vision. This first quest seeks the revelation of the Great Spirit’s manifestation and continuing presence.

This is the time when a power animal attribute enters a Native individual’s soul becoming a part of his or her name. (Sitting Bull, Black Elk, Crazy Horse and so on). It marks the beginning of the dweller within, the dreaming soul that contacts the higher spiritual planes bringing back visions that serve as fundamental guide posts in life. The hill of maturity lies to the North and represents the successful realization of ability and ambition. It is the place of recognition in which the pursuit of wisdom underlies and nourishes all action.

Sympathy with life itself grows in this quarter.

The final hill is that of old age situated in the East. It represents a quiet, reflective and meditative segment where the old ones now can pass on their knowledge to youth as they have mastered the meaning of joy and sorrow and the many other trials and tribulations encountered over the course of their existence.

Ceremonies

Ceremonies are the primary vehicles of religious expression. A ceremonial leader or Elder assures authenticity and integrity of religious observances. Nothing is written down, as the very writing would negate the significance of the ceremony. Teachings are therefore passed on from Elder to Elder in a strictly oral tradition.

Elders

Elders may be either men or women. Their most distinguishing characteristic is wisdom which relates directly to experience and age. There are exceptions. Elders need not be “old”. Sometimes the spirit of the Great Creator chooses to imbue a young native. Elders’ spiritual gifts differ. Some may interpret dreams. Others may be skilful in herbal remedies or be healers during a sweat lodge ceremony, and so on.

Pipes

Pipes are used during both private and group ceremonies, the prayer itself being wafted through the smoke of the burning plant material. Pipes are of no set length. Some stems may or may not be decorated with beads or leather. Others may be elaborately carved with bowls inlaid with silver. Bowls may be of wood, soapstone, inlaid or carved in the form of various totemic power animals (an eagle with folded wings) or another sacred animal.

The pipe is disassembled into its component parts while being carried from one place to another. The pipe is never a “personal possession”. It belongs to the community. The holder of the pipe is generally considered its custodian. While every native has the right to hold the pipe, in practise, the privilege must be earned in some religious way. The pipe is usually passed on to another custodian under specific fasting and cleansing rite regulations. There are pipes exclusively used by either men or women. Men’s pipes become unclean if touched by women and vice-versa.

The Pipe Ceremony

Pipe ceremonies constitute the primary group gatherings over which Elders preside. Participants gather in a circle. A braid of sweetgrass (one of four sacred plants) is lit and burnt as an incense to purify worshippers, before the pipe is lit. Burning sweetgrass also symbolizes unity, the coming together of many hearts and minds as one person.

The Elder strikes a match, puts it to the end of the sweetgrass braid and fans the smouldering grass with an eagle’s feather, to encourage smoke production. The Elder then goes from person to person in the circle where the smoke is drawn four times by hand gestures toward the head and down the body. The Elder must fan the glowing end to keep it burning properly or the material loses its spark.

The Elder then places tobacco in the pipe and offers it in the four sacred directions of the compass. Some Western tribes begin by making an offering to the West. Eastern Natives may propitiate the Spirit of the East whence comes the light of the sun at daybreak, who also gives guidance, direction and enlightenment. Then the Elder faces South where the guardian spirit of growth presides after winter is over. Next is West, the direction of the spirit gateway where reside the souls of those who have left this plane of existence. The spirit of the North concerned with healing and purification is then addressed.

Spirits will be asked for assistance in the main prayer, which may be specifically for one individual, a participant in the circle or for someone far away or someone who has passed over. The pipe, passed from person to person in the circle, might be offered to all creation, to those invisible spirit helpers who are always there to guide humanity. The last of the tobacco is offered to the Great Creator.

Another version of the Pipe Ceremony is the Sacred Circle which essentially follows the same procedures, but also allows a time period for individual participants to address the assembly.

Sweat Lodges

Used mainly for communal prayer purposes, the Sweat Lodge may also provide necessary ceremonial settings for spiritual healing, purification, as well as fasting. Most fasts require a sweat ceremony before and after the event.

Lodge construction varies from tribe to tribe. Generally, it is an igloo-shaped structure about five feet high, built in about one and a half hours from bent willow branches tied together with twine. The structure is then encased in blankets to preclude all light. A maximum of eight participants gather in the dark.

In the centre, there is a holy, consecrated virginal section of ground (untrampled by feet and untouched by waste material) blessed by an Elder with tobacco and sweetgrass. There, red hot stones heated in a fire outside the lodge are brought in and doused with water. A doorkeeper on the outside opens the lodge door four times, contributing four additional hot rocks (representing the four sacred directions) to the centre. A prepared pipe is also brought in.

Sweat Lodges may be dismantled after the ceremony is over, but often, they are left standing to accommodate the next ceremony. Lodges may only be entered in the presence of an Elder.

Feasting

Some ceremonies such as “doctoring” sweat require the participant to eat a meal. There are specific rituals requiring special foods. Sacred food for the Ojibway for instance consist of wild rice, corn, strawberries and deer meat. Typical feast foods for the Cree from the prairies would be Bannock (Indian Bread), soup, wild game and fruit (particularly Saskatoon berries or mashed choke cherries). For a West Coast Indian, sacred foods might include fish prepared in a special way. Although foods may differ, their symbolic importance remains the same.

Rattles

Rattles are shaken to call up the spirit of life when someone is sick. The Elder also uses a rattle to summon the spirits governing the four directions to help participants who are seeking spiritual and physical cleansing to start a “new” life during a sweat lodge ceremony.

Rattle or shaker

Drums

Drums represent the heartbeat of the nation, the pulse of the universe. Different sizes are used depending on “doctoring” or ceremonial purposes. Drums are sacred objects. Each drum has keeper to ensure no-one approaches it under the influence of alcohol or drugs. During ceremonies, no one may reach across it or place extraneous objects on it.

Drum

Sweetgrass Braid

Eagle Feathers

Spiritual Artifacts

A Manitoba Elder graciously provided some samples of a collection of spiritual artifacts used in sacred ceremonies. The collection, which appears in this guide, should not be construed as being “typical.” Contents in Medicine Bundles may vary considerably taking into account the cultural diversity of Aboriginal First Nations across Canada and the U.S.

Description

Eagles’ wings and feathers, rawhide gourds, drums, abalone shells, prayer cloths and prints are some of the more common objects in use, in addition to the pipe. Eagle wings and feathers are awarded for outstanding deeds. They may be worn in the hair or on a costume, but normally they are carried in the hand. Indians regard the eagle as a sacred bird. The eagle represents power, strength and loyalty. The four sacred plants, sweetgrass, sage, cedar and tobacco or kinniekinnick (red willow shavings) are also often worn in a “medicine” pouch around the neck or pinned onto clothing. Elders may have additional sacred items such as bear claws on a thong or badges that have been given as gifts during ceremonies.

Giving Thanks

Excerpts from ‘Greetings To The Natural World’:

The People

Today we have gathered and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now, we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as People.

Now our minds are one.

The Earth Mother

We are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time. To our Mother, we send greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Waters

We give thanks to all the Waters of the world for quenching our thirst and providing us with strength. Water is life. We know its power in many forms – waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the spirit of water.

Now our minds are one.

The Fish

We turn our minds to all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food. We are grateful that we can still find pure water. So, we turn now to the Fish and send our greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Plants

Now we turn toward the vast fields of Plant life. As far as the eye can see, the Plants grow, working many wonders. They sustain many life forms. With our minds gathered together, we give thanks and look forward to seeing Plant life for many generations to come.

Now our minds are one.

The Food Plants

With one mind, we turn to honor and thank all the Food Plants we harvest from the garden. Since the beginning of time, the grains, vegetables, beans and berries have helped the people survive. Many other living things draw strength from them too. We gather all the Plant Foods together as one and send them a greeting and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Medicine Herbs

Now we turn to all the Medicine herbs of the world. From the beginning, they were instructed to take away sickness. They are always waiting and ready to heal us. We are happy there are still among us those special few who remember how to use these plants for healing. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the Medicines and to the keepers of the Medicines.

Now our minds are one.

The Animals

We gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to all the Animal life in the world. They have many things to teach us as people. We see them near our homes and in the deep forests. We are glad they are still here and we hope that it will always be so.

Now our minds are one.

The Trees

We now turn our thoughts to the Trees. The Earth has many families of Trees who have their own instructions and uses. Some provide us with shelter and shade, others with fruit, beauty and other useful things. Many peoples of the world use a Tree as a symbol of peace and strength. With one mind, we greet and thank the Tree life.

Now our minds are one.

The Birds

We put our minds together as one and thank all the Birds who move and fly about over our heads. The Creator gave them beautiful songs. Each day they remind us to enjoy and appreciate life. The Eagle was chosen to be their leader. To all the Birds – from the smallest to the largest – we send our joyful greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Four Winds

We are all thankful to the powers we know as the Four Winds. We hear their voices in the moving air as they refresh us and purify the air we breathe. They help to bring the change of seasons. From the four directions they come, bringing us messages and giving us strength. With one mind, we send our greetings and thanks to the Four Winds.

Now our minds are one.

The Thunderers

Now we turn to the west where our Grandfathers, the Thunder Beings, live. With lightning and thundering voices, they bring with them the water that renews life. We bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to our Grandfathers, the Thunderers.

Now our minds are one.

The Sun

We now send greetings and thanks to our eldest Brother, the Sun. Each day without fail he travels the sky from east to west, bringing the light of a new day. He is the source of all the fires of life. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Brother, the Sun.

Now our minds are one.

Grandmother Moon

We put our minds together and give thanks to our oldest grandmother, the Moon, who lights the night-time sky. She is the leader of women all over the world, and she governs the movement of the ocean tides. By her changing face we measure time, and it is the Moon who watches over the arrival of children here on Earth. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Grandmother, the Moon.

Now our minds are one.

The Stars

We give thanks to the Stars who are spread across the sky like jewelry. We see them in the night, helping the Moon to light the darkness and bringing dew to the gardens and growing things. When we travel at night, they guide us home. With our minds gathered together as one, we send greetings and thanks to all the Stars.

Now our minds are one.

The Enlightened Teachers

We gather our minds to greet and thank the enlightened Teachers who have come to help throughout the ages. When we forget how to live in harmony, they remind us of the way we were instructed to live as people. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to these caring Teachers.

Now our minds are one.

The Creator

Now we turn our thoughts to the Creator, or Great Spirit, and send greetings and thanks for the gifts of Creation. Everything we need to live a good life is here on this Mother Earth. For all the love that is still around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our choicest words of greetings and thanks to the Creator.

Now our minds are one.

Closing Words

We have now arrived at the place where we end our words. Of all the things we have named, it was not our intention to leave anything out. If something was forgotten, we leave it to each individual to send such greetings and thanks in their own way.

Now our minds are one.

Great Spirit Prayer:

Great Spirit Prayer

“Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind,

Whose breath gives life to all the world.

Hear me; I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.

Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice

Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people.

Help me to remain calm and strong in the face of all that comes towards me.

Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.

Help me seek pure thoughts and act with the intention of helping others.

Help me find compassion without empathy overwhelming me.

I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy

Myself.

Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.

So when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.

From Tecumseh:

Give Thanks

When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength.

Give thanks for your food and the joy of living.

If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself.

Tecumseh

Ojibway Prayer by Art Solomon:

Grandfather,

Look at our brokenness.

We know that in all creation

Only the human family

Has strayed from the Sacred Way.

We know that we are the ones

Who are divided

And we are the ones

Who must come back together

To walk in the Sacred Way.

Grandfather,

Sacred One,

Teach us love, compassion, and honour

That we may heal the earth

And heal each other.

“Ojibway Prayer” was composed by Art Solomon, an Anishinaabe Elder.

Here is a little prayer in Anishnawbemowin (Ojibway) with English translation:

_________ N’dizhnikaas

_______is my name

___________N’dodem

_____________ is my clan

Mishomis Manitou

Grandfather Spirit

Meegwetch N’dkid

Thank you, I say to you

mijiian kakina gego

for giving me everything

minik menesiian ahking

I may need on earth

miinishin

Give me

beshik meno-meekina

One good path

weweni n-wi-bimose gaye

and carefully I will walk

Songendamiishin

Brace my mind & heart

tchi mino ganawenidisoyan mojag

that I may always have care of myself

binish tchi ishkwa bimadisiian

until the after life.

punae n’mikwenima n’mishomis

Always I will remember the grandfather

geween kokomisanaun manido

her too the grandmother spirit

N’kikendam,N’nissitotan gaye

I know and I understand

mino bimadisewin

good life

meegwetch

thank you

A Prayer of Thanks for Food

Ngizhemanidoom, sema ngiimiinagoo wiinamaayaanh nangwaa. Gagwejimin wiizhiwendamaan maanda miijim miinawa zhiwenmishinaang nangwaa. Miigwech ndinaanaanik gewe wesiinhak, okaanak, bineshiinhak, miinawa giigonhik, kinagwa gwayaa gaabigitnaamwat wiinwa bimaadiziwaan maanpii akiing niinwe wiimaadiziiyaang. Miigwech ge ndikaadami netawging miinawa maanwaang gaamiizhiyaang wiimiijiyaang wiizongziiyaang nangwaa.

Miigwech ngizhemanidoom miigwech

English translation:

My creator. Tobacco was given to me to pray today. I ask you in a good way to bless this food and to bless us today. We say thank you to all those animals, wild and domestic, the birds and the fish. Everyone that gave up his or her lives here upon the earth, so that we can live. We also say thank you for the vegetables and the fruits that you have given to us, so that we can have strength today.

Thank you my creator thank you.

Finally I thought I would share the following photo from the recent Curve Lake pow wow….with an added thought:

Leadership

When one thinks of leadership, one can be reminded of watching a V-formation of geese in flight.

The lead goose is sticking its neck out to break the air currents for the rest of the flock, thereby making it easier for the others to fly (as they “draft” in behind).

But if you watch that V-formation long enough, you’ll see that the lead goose will eventually fall back and another one will come up to take its place.

So a good leader will stick its neck out for whover is following, setting a good example for the others.

But also a good leader knows when to let another lead, when to let others have a chance.

Medicine wheel

A Medicine Wheel is a circle divided into parts (usually four), which relate with and counterbalance one another to form a whole, and is often used to represent Aboriginal wisdom in North America. Medicine Wheels are not necessarily a tradition belonging to all Aboriginal peoples. However, many cultures have some variation of the Wheel, and the Traditional Knowledge and views of the various first peoples of North America are more compatible with the circle concept than with linear, European-based forms of thought.

The Medicine Wheel represents and unites various aspects of the world, both seen and unseen, and emphasizes how all parts of the world and all levels of being are related and connected through a life force originating in the creation of the universe. Some wheels teach about the four cardinal directions, the seasons, times of day, or stages of life; others represent the races of people, animals, natural elements, aspects of being, and so on. All parts of the wheel are important, and depend on each other in the cycle of life; what affects one affects all, and the world cannot continue with missing parts. For this reason, the Medicine Wheel teaches that harmony, balance and respect for all parts are needed to sustain life.

The centre of the Medicine Wheel symbolizes the self in balance, and the perspective of traditional philosophy. The central perspective is a neutral place where it is possible to develop a holistic vision and understanding of creation and the connections between all things.

Medicine Wheels made of stones arranged on the Earth have been found in various places throughout North America, marking places of special significance, such as places of energy, ceremony, meeting, meditation, teaching, and celebration. Some estimate that there were about 20,000 medicine wheels in North America before European contact occurred. Some Medicine Wheels on the prairies have been found to be 5,000 years old or more.

Numbers have always played a significant part in traditional Aboriginal life. Four is one of the most sacred numbers used in Aboriginal culture. Many aspects are seen in terms of four. The Sacred Mystery, the source of all creation, reveals itself as the Powers of the Four Directions and these four powers provide the organizing principle for everything that exists in the world: The Seasons, The Races, The Elements of the Universe, The Stages of Life, The Emotions and Aspects of Human Behavior. The Medicine Wheel, which is symbolized by a cross within a circle, is a ceremonial tool and the basis for all teaching wheels. The Power of the Four Directions is implied when ever a wheel or circle is drawn. Since traditional Native American cultures view life as a continuous cycle, life mirrors the cycling of the seasons, the daily rising of the sun, and the phases of the moon. They also hold the view that all things are interrelated. The Medicine Wheel incorporates the Powers of the Four Directions and the interrelatedness of all things. The teachings of the Medicine Wheel were originally explained orally with the circle being drawn in the earth and a gradual overlaying of symbols, as meanings were explained by an elder. The elder would begin with an explanation of the Four Directions and the center of the wheel which represents the Sacred Mystery. He may have gone on to explain some of the following concepts: The Four Aspects of Human Personality-the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual; The Seasons-the changing from fall, winter, spring and summer, occurs in a cycle; The Four Stages of Life-childhood, adolescence, adulthood,and elders; The Races-red, white, black and yellow; The Four Elements-water, air, fire, and earth. The basic Medicine Wheel of the the Powers of the Four Directions, can be expanded to include other wheels, such as the emotions wheel, or the mind wheel. These wheels within wheels are used to explain and examine such concepts as those emotions that impede personal growth and the development process that involves leading a person to wholeness.