[Warning, this post has generalizations that will piss off several outdoor recreation interest groups. If you’re triggered or think I paint with too broad of a brush… drink a beer and count to ten before commenting that I’m an insensitive jerk. It’s just a story on an irrelevant blog and nothing more. Nor am I required to write into each post a group hug for all of humanity. If my crude stereotypes chafe, accept my apologies. Rest assured we’d probably get along swimmingly in real life… even if you own a jet ski.]
After a lifetime of canoeing and countless glorious jaunts into the Canadian wilderness, things collapsed. I’d settled on a delightful routine of backcountry trips using a two-man canoe. Tragically, there came the year my canoe partner was physically unable to join me. I get it. Nothing lasts forever. That same year I broke an arm. Suddenly asymmetrical canoe paddling seemed like an ergonomic disaster.
Later, I discovered our trusty old (but restored) 2-man canoe was unmanageable for solo use. I spent endless days/weeks/months/years(!) fretting over a “new way”. I experimented with a kayak. Kayaks are cool but it wasn’t right for me.
I could have gotten a different, smaller, canoe but by then I wanted a new approach and the associated new point of view. Life is change. It was high time the man who’d eagerly paddled swamp, river, and lake since he was a Boy Scout left his comfort zone.
I settled on a sail over a motor, small over big, and simple over elaborate. Also I wanted to camp on land rather than sleep in a boat. My choices seemed reasonable (and ideally suited to my situation, budget, and personality) but they put me at odds with nearly every watercraft niche.
I should be used to it by now. I was already an odd duck. My ideas pushed me further out.
Kayaks (for no discernible reason) seem largely the domain of vegan cat ladies who carry them around on Subarus adorned with left wing bumper stickers. Most of them only paddle on sunny weekends. Invariably they paddle in groups. I suspect chardonnay may be involved? Not my scene. (Doubt my assessment of kayaks in America in 2019? Fine. Send me a photo of a burly man solo kayaking a moose quarter through a swamp and I’ll recant.)
Meanwhile Bubba fishermen seem to hold the opinion that nothing shy of 90 HP on a fully outfitted payment plan (bass boat) is sufficient for three hours fishing. They think it insanely weird I’d carefully avoid anything with a motor. (For them, the motor is part of the fun. I’m sick of motors on seasonal stuff. Keeping my motorcycle and snowblower running are dual opposed seasonal hassles and I’d like to keep overhead like that contained. Perhaps there’s a motor in my future but for the moment I’ve settled on oars.)
What shocked me most were the sailboat people. To my naïve surprise, they did not greet me with open arms. My small boat/camping ideas were heretical. Popular opinion insisted I needed a bright white, deep keel, 20′ (or larger!) fiberglass racing wonder. Also, only fools sleep on dirt and a monthly slip rental at a lakeshore resort was a wise investment.
When I abandoned my canoe, I’d stepped into a tug of war between warring markets. Motorboats and sailboats: both sides hate the other. Though they’d claim otherwise, I get the vibe that kayak women hate everyone more macho than a birdwatcher regardless of their craft.
I’d stepped in it! I’d hitherto ignored competing interests on the water. Since I was practically born with a canoe paddle in hand, have my own canoe, and don’t talk to anyone, I’d no idea of the Tribal animosities.
My questions about camping confused people. Only a tiny minority has the slightest interest in carrying a tent and sleeping bag. That group seems to be mostly canoe people; the very tribe I was leaving. For decades that’s what my gig was all about but I don’t see why it has to be limited to canoes? You can carry a (small!) tent in a kayak, or anything you want on a bass boat or a big sailboat… but almost nobody does. Occasionally a kayaker can be found camping (though limited to minimalist ultralight gear). It’s not common. I suspect deep keel sailboats are a bitch to put to shore so they strongly prefer stopping at docks. Motorboats (especially small flat-bottomed skiffs) could surely pull up on shores and sandbars anytime they want, but virtually without exception they come home to roost at night. Invariably, the few shore campers are outnumbered by orders of magnitude by rented houseboats and sailboats with berths. A special shout out to duck hunters who quietly go about their business at the crack of dawn (which is far too early for me). They’ve got plenty of gear (and moxie!) to camp but they appear more interested in retrievers than tents. They’d probably be great at camping but they seem to vanish without a trace by noon; like a stealthy army of anti-duck special forces operators.
Also, virtually nobody does anything solo.
I was on my own and looking for a new way. What to do?