Hulls, blades, and the rest
Gear
We are loyal, argumentative, and only sometimes right about boats.
Nobody in this club paddles the same canoe, which is useful, because it gives us something to talk about when the lake is flat.
Tom still swears by a forest-green Old Town Penobscot 16. It is a tripper in the old sense: tracks, carries a weekend, forgives a sloppy J-stroke at the end of the day. He has had it long enough that the seats remember him.
Brick’s Nova Craft Prospector 16 is the camp mule. More rocker than Tom likes, more volume than Marcus thinks is elegant, and the boat you want when the kitchen and the beer and someone else’s dry bag all need a ride. Brick will tell you TuffStuff outlasts whatever you were about to say next.
Marcus brought a Wenonah Minnesota II in Kevlar and has never been the same. It is long, skinny, and slightly rude to anyone who wants to turn. On a lake crossing it makes the rest of us look like we are sightseeing. He is polite about this. The boat is not.
Sam paddles a Swift Keewaydin 15 and cares more about the blade than the hull. He will compare a bent-shaft Werner to a Bending Branches Navigator to a Grey Owl ottertail until the coffee is gone. He is usually worth listening to. On a river he wants the bent shaft. On a lake at dawn he wants the wood, because it sounds better dripping.
Pete’s Clipper Tripper is the boat that always has a throw bag, a spare paddle, and a first-aid kit that has actually been opened. He is the one who makes sure the PFDs come off the thwarts and onto people before the first bow kisses water.
Jules is still in the honeymoon with a Northstar Magic, which is a lot of canoe for a man who also cares how it looks on the beach. We give him a hard time. The Magic keeps up.
Nick’s Old Town Discovery 169 is the unfashionable workhorse. He says it is the boat he can lend, scrape, and not mourn. He has mentioned, once, that it is also the boat his daughter might learn in someday. She has not been. The Discovery still comes.
Paddles, not oars, do most of the work. A couple of times a year someone shows up with a rowing rig and a pair of leather-collared oars for a long lake slog. It looks like cheating. On a windy afternoon it is cheating we will allow. The rest of the time we paddle, we argue about bent shafts, and we hang the Astral and NRS vests on a line to dry before they mildew in the trunk.
