On two sunny days in May, my friend Marty (a resident of Ontario) and I (a resident of Pender Island) had a truly Canadian experience. The first day, we built a 16-foot, red canoe from scratch. Yes, in one single day! The second day we paddled our new canoe down the Thames River through the centre of London, Ontario. Who says seniors can’t have adventures?
When the opportunity to build a canoe arose, I was enthralled, for canoes are renowned symbols of Canada. Birch bark canoes were used for millennia by Native peoples and then by voyageurs and courier-du-bois to carry on the fur trade, to explore and to open up this mighty land. Today, the canoe continues as an icon, removing the paddler from the urban canyons and building a connection to the rugged and vast wilderness that forms much of Canada.
Marty and I arrived early at the Nova Craft Company in London. The large building had racks of canoes everywhere, and about 20 workers were in various stages of canoe construction. There was a bustling intensity for this was Nova Craft’s busy season, and they produce over 2,000 canoes each year.
In the old days, birch bark was most commonly used, but today canoes are made of a seemingly endless array of materials including canvas and wood, fibreglass, HDPE (High-Density Polyethylene), Kevlar, carbon fibre and various plastic composites.
Ray, a stocky young man with a perpetual beaming smile, explained that our canoe would be made of Royalex, a plastic composite, which is a tough, low cost, rigid material with high-impact strength and is easy to drill, saw and work with. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve built hundreds of canoes. Just follow my instructions and it’ll be a snap.”
We chose to build a Prospector canoe, based on the old Chestnut lineage, which dates back to the late 1800s. Its ability to carry large amounts of gear whilst being maneuverable in rough water makes it a popular canoe for wilderness tripping. We wanted a bright red canoe, of course, the colour of a Maple leaf in autumn.
Under Ray’s watchful eye, we started by hauling a heavy sheet of Royalex, about six feet wide by 17-feet long into a large oven. After about 20 minutes, once the heat had softened the plastic, we pulled the sheet out the opposite end of the oven and onto the bottom half of a mold in the shape of a canoe. The top half of the mold was lowered and clamped together with the lower half. After the mold cooled for about an hour, we removed the plastic, now hardened into a canoe shape. It was like magic, a flat sheet of plastic had transformed into a canoe. We were excited!
There was still a lot of work to do, Ray reminded us. We started by trimming off the excess plastic with a router. Then we riveted on the gunwales and installed the seats and yoke. With Ray giving instructions, we drilled holes, cut pieces of wood to size and carefully attached them into place. Luckily, pre-made pieces were available for most tasks. Ray constantly measured and checked that all was in alignment. Nearing the end of day, we placed the registration tag on the bow. Marty and I were tired.
The final touch was to attach a decal with the Nova Craft name. When Ray explained that people can custom design their own logos, I silently vowed to return one day and build a canoe covered in gold, red and yellow Maple leaves, or perhaps with brilliant racing stripes, or perhaps with a Viking theme with dramatic horns and axes. I felt a nudge in my ribs. “Stop daydreaming and get back to work. You’re almost done,” Ray admonished with a smile.
After five hours of work, our canoe was complete. Marty and I posed and preened beside it like proud, new parents.
Arising bright and early next morning, we were greeted by a cloudless sky. Marty and I portaged our bright red, new baby from truck-top to the edge of the Thames River, just upstream from the forks in downtown London. Gingerly and nervously, we stepped in and pushed off. Happily, our canoe was seaworthy and behaved perfectly. It felt wonderful to be afloat in our own creation.
Paddling lazily with the current under an azure sky, we passed the Jet d’Eau with beautiful arcs of water streaming high in the air, creating sparkling little rainbows. We continued downstream, surrounded by greenery. It was like being in the countryside. Fish jumped. A goose family paraded past with more than 20 little fuzzy goslings. When we tried to approach, the flotilla quietly but swiftly moved away from us.
Birds chirped and the river water gurgled. Even the graffiti decorating a bridge pylon was bright and attractive – like urban art in the sunshine. A fisherman cast a long looping line into the water. It was hard to tell that we were in the centre of a busy city. London has grown around and incorporated the meandering Thames River so that today the tree-lined river offers a continuous oasis in the heart of the city – the Forest City.
We pulled over to rest and enjoy cool gelatos at Springbank Gardens, where Glen Miller and Guy Lombardo once played on sultry summer evenings. Nearby, a plaque marked the site of the sinking of the pleasure boat Victoria, with the loss of 182 lives. Who would have guessed that one of Canada’s greatest maritime disasters happened in inland London? We pressed on, paddling lazily with the flow of the river. It was soothing and we had the deep inner satisfaction that we were not only carbon-free, but had built our conveyance with our own hands.
Too soon it was over. At Storybook Gardens we pulled our canoe from the water and carried it over our heads to the waiting truck. No voyageurs could have been happier!
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