The downside of a wood and canvas canoe.

I have had canoe fever lately. The rivers are high and fast, the bugs aren't quite out yet, and the ice was off most local ponds by last week. Instead of going canoeing, we had a bunch of child-raising, home-teaching, and branch activity stuff going on. So instead I live vicariously through others who are getting out.

I did a google search for wood canvas canoes and found this guy's photo account of a trip he took in a beautiful wood and canvas canoe.

Here is the before picture:



Here is the after pictures:





It really shows the power of the water in even a small stream. I would not hesitate to run that stream in a wood and canvas canoe, and undoubtably the same thing would have happened. He just left the canoe, but according to Bill Mason in his book Song of the Paddle, the canoe may be salvagable enough to continue on the trip. In the old days they would have winched the canoe off the rock with a rope and some improvised pulleys, split some new gunnels out of a sapling with an axe, and screwed another sapling to the bottom to straighten that out, and paddled on the way. Not to mention the great conversation piece it would make hanging in your living room.


When I think about what kind of house I want to live in, I imagine it having a wrecked wood and canvas canoe hanging from the ceiling in the living room.

I can't say I blame the guy for being so devastated that he had to walk away. He wins in the end though, because he is building a new canoe.



I still want a wood and canvas canoe. Maybe I will restrict it to lake use only though.