Massachusetts Series Eastern Region
New Hampshire Series Western Region
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Lost Art of Solo Canoeing
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by Charlie Spencer
I saw my first canoe at eight years old from the shore of Pratt Pond in Upton, Massachusetts, as I watched two people flip over upon boarding. Soaked and miserable, their possessions were at the bottom or floating around, without dry clothes, and no protection for the car’s upholstery for the ride home. The experience left me believing that canoes were unstable and a craft to avoid, a thought much of the public shares today. Then, some 20 years later, in 1973, I found myself immigrating to Nova Scotia with my brother, Jim, to establish a wilderness canoe outfitting business, though still never having actually been in a canoe or in Nova Scotia for that matter. However being that the sum of parts, canoe and paddle combined is only two, we didn’t think there could be too much to it. So with our love for outdoors and immigration papers in hand, we headed north from Massachusetts in search of a simple and adventurous life, and founded Maritime Canoe Outfitters in Shelburne County, Nova Scotia, which we operated successfully through 1978.
Shortly after arriving in Canada, I was one of a relative few lucky applicants invited to the 10-day Canadian Canoe Instructors School, where my long held impression of canoeing was dispelled. Six experts from the Canadian team introduced and taught over 25 strokes and maneuvers, each having a proper name and applied technique. Aside from some classroom time given to safety, history, equipment selection, films and charts, the bulk of time was spent on the water perfecting paddling skills. I soon came to realize that canoeing was much more about the paddle than the canoe. After covering tandem canoeing in a day or two, we concentrated on solo skills using standard open canoes. Long hours were spent practicing specific strokes designed to move the canoe forward, backwards, sideways, pirouetting, perfecting figure 8s, and running gates on a solo flat water slalom course for time. Like winging a golf club, every stroke required a specific blade angle, grip, extension, and follow through. Once all mechanics were working together, the paddle began take on the feel of a sculpturing tool, and canoeing itself as a performing art.
Using a see-saw principal of applied mechanics, all solo strokes were taught from amidships in having equal reach and leverage to the bow and stern, sitting back on the ankles in a yoga like position, knees under the center thwart, low to the water, paddling on one side only, hip against the gunnel causing the canoe to list, leaving about three inches of freeboard. To overcome the fear of tipping, we purposely capsized in shallow water over a sandy bottom until becoming familiar with the canoe’s handling and breaking point. As sitting back on the ankles can be painful, we were instructed in our ‘letter of acceptance’ to practice at home in preparation. A cushion or mat under the shins, keeping knees and toes suspended, adds comfort.
Graduation requirements were strict in having three chances to pass each of the over 25 strokes and maneuvers. I use examples of two solo strokes to illustrate how the School transformed my relationship to the canoe, and why it’s fair to surmise that solo canoeing has become a lost art. First, a passing grade for the Indian Stroke, otherwise known as ‘the silent stroke,’ required paddling for 50 yards expediently and smoothly in absolute silence, eliminating any potential sound from the paddle’s contact with the water or canoe. It required that we submerge the entire paddle blade to the throat with each stroke, then upon the recovery or return rotating the grip hand 180 degrees, while lifting and slicing the blade back through the water, eliminating the possibility of sounds from water dripping off the tip of the blade. I’ve come to use the Indian Stoke, a modified form of the J-stroke, for general cruising for maintaining silence at all times. Without being absolutely quiet and rhythmically smooth in nature we miss more than can be imagined, which is why it’s called Indian Stroke.
Another example is the C Stroke, or windy weather stroke. To receive a passing grade, the C Stroke required paddling around buoys set in a triangular pattern 100 yards apart in the middle of a windswept lake. This stroke also required that we rotate the grip hand 180 degrees upon each return, while keeping the paddle blade submerged to brace against the wind upon recovery. Otherwise, it’s always best to seek the leeward side. Without question, learning these two strokes alone, in addition to nearly 25 other maneuvers, including re-floating a swamped canoe solo in deep water, can be a transforming experience for anyone.
In addition to the paddling education I’ve received, one vivid and instilling memory came at the end of the Canadian Canoe Instructors School after suggesting to one of my instructors to stay in touch. In response he handed me his card. As I looked under his name in title line read “Canoeist,” with a capital C. It was a profound and emphatic moment, of which I doubt I’ll ever experience another.
In its own uniqueness, a canoe needs a channel a little wider than itself and only three inches deep. Being lightweight, portaging always remains an option that allows us to visit and experience places not otherwise accessible. These special places offer diversity, purity, abundance and unadulterated beauty, even in urban settings. As a former canoe trip outfitter these were the objectives of many of our clients. Knowing how to get there efficiently and quietly brings canoeing to its fullest. In this article I’ve only attempted to scratch the surface in an attempt to inspire and resurrect the lost art of solo canoeing. Books, films and websites add much more detail. More information can be found at www.paddlingcanada.com.
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