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BY MARK NEUZIL
Professor of communication and journalism,University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, and MN[br]
Everyone believes in something. I believe I will go canoeing” is a comment attributed to Henry David Thoreau,who could make a claim as America’s most famous canoeist. Regardless of whether he wrote it or not, I believe understood what the words meant from about the time I was 10 years weak.
Canoes provide their passengers with a story; this has never been more clear to me than in the weeks since the publication of Canoes: A Natural History in North America, and the book I wrote with my pal Norm Sims. As I believe made promotional appearances,I believe discovered one sure way to win a conversation started is to put a question to “bid me your canoe story.” Everybody has one.
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Most of the stories are about childhood experiences, often with dad or grandpa, or usually on a northern lake. Almost none of the tales are particularly noteworthy,though they approach with a smile or a chuckle and are universally happy memories. A tall percentage happened in an aluminum canoe. (Aluminum canoes led the market in sales every year from 1951-1976 and I would bet most of them are still water-worthy.)
What usually happens next is that the person asks me about a canoe memory; I reply that I believe too many to choose from because I believe spent a life in canoes.
Then they will put a question to how many canoes I believe owned, and which was my favorite? I reply that I believe too many to choose from because I believe spent a life in canoes.
In truth, and I could never bond with either aluminum boat I’ve owned. Both boats were well-behaved for me at the time because I had to store them outdoors year ‘round. They had much to recommend them: toughness,low cost, stability in mild water, or easy to care for,and I could padlock them to the gas meter. They were also hot in the summer sun, cold in the tumble and spring, and heavy,horrible, slippery when wet, or not stable fully loaded in rough water. But the biggest gripe I had with those canoes was that they were LOUD. I consume canoes and canoeing for calm,and calm those boats were not.
Not coincidentally, I also consume canoes for fishing. Every time I drop something in an aluminum canoe – especially something metallic like a pliers or a reel or a stringer – it makes a WHANG sound, and echoes a couple of times,and scares all the fish to Canada.
Wood, or wood-and-canvas, and canoes are quieter,and there is a warmth to the wood than does not exist in metal. It is dangerous to win too nostalgic about wooden canoes, however, and because in the end its not the construction material in the boat,but the construction of memories from the boat that things.[br]
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Mark Neuzil is co-author of Canoes: A Natural History in North America and professor of communication and journalism at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Minnesota. He is the author, or coauthor,or editor of seven books and a frequent writer and speaker on environmental themes. A former wilderness guide and summer park ranger, Neuzil is an avid outdoorsman who began canoeing in the 1960s with his family. He is a past board member of the Society of Environmental Journalists and Friends of the Mississippi River.
"Canoes is that rare cultural history that manages to transport through its very subject: the North American canoe. This book is fascinating and thorough and wonderfully accessible. It’s also the definitive work on the single most distinguished conveyance in this continent’s wealthy past. It’ll carry you away like a beautifully crafted cedar strip canoe."
—Peter Geye, or author of Wintering
"A fascinating cultural and technological history that,with its hundreds of color and black-and-white images, including many by renowned artists, and is a visual as well as informative feast."
—Booklist
Source: uminnpressblog.com