- Joined
- May 22, 2026
- Messages
- 3
- Reaction score
- 26
The canoe for me is more than just a tool. I romanticize it and my time on the water. No doubt part of the reason for that perspective comes from my first experiences in one.
Ahhh. To travel back in time. She had such a beautiful smile, bright blue eyes, golden blonde hair, and her sunny disposition never allowed her to speak a negative word about anyone. We went to the same school and were in the same grade, but our classroom assignments never aligned.
She lived in nearly the same neighborhood, and her house backed up to a private lake. My good friend lived a few houses away from her, and he liked to fish as much as I did. So when he caught wind that she had a canoe we could take out, our high school selves jumped at the opportunity, though neither of us had ever been in such a narrow, tippy boat.
This one was aluminum. A tandem. Probably 16 to 17 feet in length. I’m unsure of the manufacturer, but perhaps it was made by Weber because it certainly grilled your legs when the summer sun was high and your skin happened to brush against the metal.
The lake water was always an unattractive gray, so the bass were always pale. But my friend and I managed to maneuver the canoe around and enjoyed catching a few fish on our maiden voyage. However, it was the subsequent outings that I enjoyed the most. Then it was just me in the stern and her in the bow facing backwards. Me paddling around. More talking than fishing. More looking than anything else.
So when people suggest I try a kayak, I just smile and listen to the reasoning with deaf ears. Because I’d take one day in that aluminum canoe over their best 100 with their kayaks.
Ahhh. To travel back in time. She had such a beautiful smile, bright blue eyes, golden blonde hair, and her sunny disposition never allowed her to speak a negative word about anyone. We went to the same school and were in the same grade, but our classroom assignments never aligned.
She lived in nearly the same neighborhood, and her house backed up to a private lake. My good friend lived a few houses away from her, and he liked to fish as much as I did. So when he caught wind that she had a canoe we could take out, our high school selves jumped at the opportunity, though neither of us had ever been in such a narrow, tippy boat.
This one was aluminum. A tandem. Probably 16 to 17 feet in length. I’m unsure of the manufacturer, but perhaps it was made by Weber because it certainly grilled your legs when the summer sun was high and your skin happened to brush against the metal.
The lake water was always an unattractive gray, so the bass were always pale. But my friend and I managed to maneuver the canoe around and enjoyed catching a few fish on our maiden voyage. However, it was the subsequent outings that I enjoyed the most. Then it was just me in the stern and her in the bow facing backwards. Me paddling around. More talking than fishing. More looking than anything else.
So when people suggest I try a kayak, I just smile and listen to the reasoning with deaf ears. Because I’d take one day in that aluminum canoe over their best 100 with their kayaks.
