The Canoe: A Sense of Unspoiled Freedom

 The sunrise lingered that morning yet presented itself as a token of light spreading across the sky. A few clouds hovering above the ridgetops caught some of the first light of the morning and began to softly glow casting their reflection across the almost still water. Just a gentle ripple rolled across the surface of the lake, and that motion was barely enough to distort and provide movement to those reflections. All I could hear were a few birds greeting the morning and the rhythmic soft splash of my paddle as I glided along in my Old Town Camper canoe. The once silent morning started to stir to life and I experienced a satisfying sense of unspoiled freedom as I became one with the first moments of the day.

Internet Photo

The canoe is perhaps the most versatile watercraft ever devised. Having its roots going way back to the Native American birchbark canoes, known from the history of the northern latitudes of United States and Canada, it is today mostly a recreational craft made from modern materials. Even so, the birchbark canoe, in areas where horses and wagons were virtually useless, was most responsible for opening up the interior of North America. Some of those early canoes ranged as large as over 30 to 35 feet in length and 4 to 5 feet in diameter to the smaller single man canoes of similar construction. 

Shooting the Rapids (Internet Photo)

Known as freighter canoes, the larger ones could carry several tons of cargo yet were fast, durable, easy to portage, and provided an effective means of carrying goods deep into and out of the wilderness of Canada and the northern United States. Hearty voyagers manned those freighter canoes and lived a rugged and dangerous life often covering over 50 miles per day for days on end. 

As a nature photographer, my canoe has provided me with a lightweight and capable craft I have used to place myself in locations that offer a higher potential for quality photographs. 

The only real limitation I have with it is the wind. You must avoid open water trips when it is windy. But over the years I have spent many hours paddling and canoe camping on rivers and lakes. In more recent times I have concentrated on paddling across lakes and have managed a good number of overnight and multi day trips.

My canoe is an Old Town brand Camper model. Sixteen feet in length it offers an almost perfect blend of versatility; large enough for two and small enough for a single paddler. 

It's hull design is better suited for flat water but is more than capable of handling moving water including light to moderate whitewater. More than anything else, it provides me a means to experience the outdoors, maybe not so much like the voyagers of old did, but in a way where I can imagine myself heading off into the wilds of Canada. In deed, someday I hope to travel to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Minnesota. But, until that time, I will explore the local bodies of water near my home here in Kentucky.

When I am out paddling, I become an unfettered spirit, one with nature and my craft. The hours seem to drift along with the clouds and my time on the water becomes a purposeful activity where I am physically and mentally exercising my desire to simply get away. Nothing can compare to, at day's end, pulling off onto a gravel beach and setting up a stealthy campsite, then gathering firewood and cooking a hot meal using a cast iron skillet. Once filled with good camp food, I can lean against an old piece of driftwood and watch the setting sun write across the sky, its epath for the day. 

Paddling into the sunset offers a surreal blend of moment, time, and place. When the air grows soft and the breeze slumbers, the warmth of an end of day paddle lifts one spirits far more than most moments and eventually, when stiff muscles are allowed to relax, the mind is allowed to refresh itself, and the heart is filled with memories I can recall any time. Then, when morning breaks the stillness of the night, a chill in the air can often generate a fog that drifts across the waters. Paddling during such moments is certainly one of the great pleasures of being there.

Being retired has its rewards and each time I witness a blue sky filled with summer clouds reflecting off the water, I am grateful for the moment and the physical ability to be there, and as long as I am still able to do so, I will continue loading my canoe and spending time on the water with the breeze at my back, the warm sun in my face, and a sense of unspoiled freedom lingering within my heart. 

Although long since separated by time, I feel as one with those voyagers of old, a kindred spirit of sorts, where in my imagination I sing the old songs they used to sing as they journeyed into the wilderness...

Ho! for the tumbling rapids' roar!

Ho! for the rest on lone lake shore!

We live beneath the old canoe,

and sleep beside as the rivers roar...