Hi! I'm Grace Evans and this is Dry Spell, my weekly letter of off-season reflections on canoeing.
One of my canoeing role models, Pauline Johnson, paddled a 156 km or 97 mile stretch of the Grand River in just three days. She published an article about it in The Brantford Expositor in July 1893. It was a dare, a publicity stunt to prove that women could canoe just as well as men, though the three women were “piloted” by three men who steered each canoe. They paddled from Elora to Brantford. I’d never canoed a river before but I wanted to paddle some of the same stretch of the Grand River.
Pauline wrote:
Three taut little basswood canoes, manned at the stern, maidened at the bow, six gleaming, agile paddles — and before us a run of ninety seven miles on one of the most rollicking rivers in Ontario; who would ask more than this for a typical outing in merry May time? For days and days beforehand old cruisers had vainly tried to dissuade us from going. By “us” I mean the three girls who were mad enough to attempt running those wild rapids while the water was at flood height, and the river swollen by recent rains until its fury was threatening enough to lessen the desire for a spring cruise even in the sturdy hearts of some of our best club men. But what we three girls won’t attempt in the way of an outdoor frolic, and the tasting of genuine Canadian sport is not worth the planning.
It was late July when Scott, my father-in-law Mark and I headed out to paddle a section of the Grand River last summer. We planned to launch down-river from Elora Gorge Conservation Area, near where I imagined Pauline had started her journey 127 years earlier. As we put our PFDs on I noticed rapids about 50 feet from the launch point. A cyclist saw us and made a comment about “hitting bottom.” “But that’s the Grand for you!” he concluded and then enthusiastically bade us a good trip. I felt nervous; we all felt nervous. We set off and from the stern Scott tried to steer us around that first set of rapids and crunch, immediately we could feel the canoe scrape against rock.
We kept going, leaving a trail of red paint on the rocks behind us. I worried about damaging the Kevlar bottom of the boat; I felt every crunch in my stomach. I also felt ridiculous.
Before I started canoeing last year I looked up the Transport Canada rules for canoeing. I bought the required bailer kit and throw rope. I always wear a PFD. I assembled a mini survival and first aid kit. I even took swimming lessons the fall beforehand to improve my swimming skills. I’ve always thought mastering a technical skill and taking safety seriously was kind of badass, unlike the blind confidence of ignorance.
But this oversight on the Grand River was due to my ignorance. I spent my pre-trip research time figuring out water access points using the one guide book available. The guide book advised looking at the water flow, but I couldn’t understand how to read the data, and what it meant for paddlers. During our trip the water was so low we could barely paddle.
We eventually came up with a system. Mark and I navigated from the middle and front of the canoe, and Scott steered us out of the way of rocks and rapids, and when it got too shallow, which was at least fifty per cent of the time, we hopped out of the canoe and walked it together. The giant miscalculation of river flow aside, we were prepared. We all wore quick dry clothing, hats, sunscreen, sunglasses and footwear that could go in the water.
At first, Scott and I were tense, blaming each other for scraping rocks. But Mark appeared to be having the time of his life. He made up slang to help navigate and was relentlessly positive. “The foam shows the way,” he said, pointing us away from some upcoming rocks. “The foam tells the tale.” I questioned at times if we were on the same trip.
We saw a family of mink, many Belted Kingfishers and a peaceful woman fly fishing alone. Not a single other canoe or watercraft - go figure. What was at times grueling, other times hilarious multi-hour slog with little actual pleasant paddling, could have been dangerous or even deadly if the river flow had been too high instead of too low. The whole endeavour was so embarrassing for me because I tried really hard to be prepared for my paddling adventures, and I was aware of the stakes. Last year a friend of mine was rescued in high winds by the fire department on a lake in Southern Ontario. I read a chilling report of a rescue on Lake Opeongo in Algonquin Park where one paddler didn’t survive a capsized boat in the cold water. I saw a news article about a teenager who drowned in the Grand River last summer on a day with unpredictable river flow.
I had thought the route would take three hours, but five hours had passed when we finally got off the river at the covered bridge in West Montrose.
The conclusion of Pauline’s journey was painfully opposite to ours:
[…] we drift slowly, regretfully toward the boathouse, where stand the men who taunted us with probable failure. We have had no disaster, no upset, nothing but success, so the men cheer and hurrah us, call us “some of the boys,” and shake hands heartily as we beach the last time, for our sweet mad cruise is over.
We’d walk-paddled 18 km in full sun, which felt impressive until I remembered Pauline’s 52 km/day average back in 1893. I can only imagine you can go a lot faster when you’re actually paddling the whole time and being carried by a moving river.
Thanks for reading Dry Spell. I’d love to know what you think; please feel free to leave a comment or reply to this email!
Glad everyone made it safely off the river. You should join a group and paddle with them to build up your skillset and learn to read water. Also scratches on the bottom of the boat going form stem to stern should be viewed with pride, you were doing the right thing the water was low or the rock was high, in either case no need for worry or shame you used your boat well. Put some 303 on it and smile when you see the scratches and remember the trip. If you are like me you will end up with a few boats of different materials for different type of water. I am a guide in NYS just south of the grand. If you are looking for a south of the boarder trip next season let me know, I can show your group around down here.
This brought back memories of a similar experience on the Grand River. We also gave up our expectations of a skillful paddle on that day trip. Thanks for sharing!