The Happy Camper: Can You Teach Canoeing to People Who Love Motorboats?
Image paddling a canoe on a massive indoor lake at some major boat show in Toronto.
It was in the dead of winter, and on the bleachers surrounding me were a small gathering of motorboat fanatics munching on their fries and hot dogs, all wondering what I was up to and why I was there.
Was it intimidating? Slightly. I’m used to presenting at backcountry outdoor shows where most of the audience know my name and are pretty much focused on the content I’m delivering.
Was I nervous? I’m always nervous no matter the audience size but the positive energy of wilderness-type people usually overpowers the anxiety. This time, I was very nervous. I was out of my element. My stomach gurgled and beads of sweat dripped down my forehead.
A bigger question, however: is it worth presenting to a group of non-paddlers? Absolutely!
I’ve always told myself that if I found my fate to be bestowing wilderness canoeing values to a group of elderly men with beards, bellies and Tilley hats (nothing wrong with those icons, by the way), I haven’t done my job at promoting wilderness protection. I’d go to my grave with not much accomplished. I was just preaching to the converted.
That’s the main reason I agreed to present at the Toronto International Boat Show, and a couple of other big city RV shows as well. It was to expand my horizons, build my audience and spread the word on wilderness protection.
However, I did have my moments of doubt. On the way to the show, I drove through a blinding snowstorm at 5 a.m. and got stuck in city traffic. I definitely questioned my sanity and prayed I wasn’t wasting my time.
I presented on the Saturday to a small group while glow-in-the-dark pedal boats circled me and people played on a floating pickleball court. I showed them how to do the J-stroke, Canadian stroke, draw stroke, cross-draw stroke, soft stroke and how to maneuver wavy chop brought on by big boats passing you on the water. The audience seemed to really enjoy the last bit of instruction best; and I did get a mild applause at the end. But I must admit, I was even more nervous about going back the next day to perform again in the big lake. Was it all pointless?
Rather than staying at a Toronto hotel for the night, I took up my mother’s invitation to stay at her place. She lives nearby, in the town of Milton, which is where I was born and raised. She is 92 and still very much independent in her tiny apartment. She also makes an amazing Shepherd’s Pie.
After dinner, we sat and chatted about our day. She told me about her day spent line dancing at the community centre and volunteering at the local hospital, and I told her about my time paddling in a giant indoor lake to show boaters how to paddle a canoe though the wilderness. And like all mothers in the world, she sensed my day wasn’t as good as hers.
My dad, who was a well-known Irish boxer, always taught me how to persevere through life.
He also gave me the gift of storytelling. But I think it was my mom and her strong Scottish background that gave me the gift of putting things to pen and paper. She helped to keep me focused. And she did that that night as we sipped tea—with one cube of brown sugar—after our Shepherd’s Pie.
Before we switched to a wee dram of whisky, she held my hand and asked what was troubling me… as all mothers would. I told her about the blinding snowstorm I drove through to get to some big boat show in some big city to try to convince some big motorboat enthusiasts that they should give wilderness canoe tripping a try. “Look at the news, Mom” I said. “Self-interest is the demise of the human species! I’ve known that for many years but tried to avoid it. I tried to convince myself that we can change. What I did get today was me becoming a side show, some quick bit of entertainment while the audience munched on their fast-food lunch.”
Again, like most moms, she gave me a simple sigh and said in her strong Scottish dialect that I was just being a “foolish boy.” Then she loudly acclaimed that I “get up, brush off the dirt and take on the job at hand.”
I left my mom’s place in the early morning. I needed to get back to the show to give another performance, and she needed to go to her volunteer Sunday morning church breakfast. I went with both barrels locked, as they say. My mind and soul were set to make a change, no matter what.
There I was on day two of my presentation gig at the Toronto International Boat Show. I had less people gawking at me than the first day, but that was okay. I slipped the canoe into the fake lake, zipped up my PFD and clipped on the mic to once again show various canoe strokes that would help you wander off into the wilderness…or at least deal with oncoming big boat waves while trying to canoe at the cottage.
I had a mute response again—maybe 25 people interested out of the regular hundreds. But I’ve got to say, connecting with the 25 or so souls was so uplifting. Some were past boaters that wanted to get away from the busy cottage lakes, some were new Canadians just wanting to learn how to properly maneuver a canoe and a few were traditional canoeists actually there to cheer me on.
How cool is that. Time well spent. Thanks Mom!
