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Big win, before a big loss. PHOTO: RON HOLLINGWORTH


[ tumBlehome ] » WITH JAMES RAFFAN


Making Contact O


ne of the great joys of working at Te Canadian Canoe Museum is opening


the mystery packages that float in over the transom every so often. Te most recent of these was a large padded envelope from St. Albert, Alberta, which contained a story that was as thought-provoking as it was sad. Inside was a matted sepia photograph


showing a crew of healthy young men from the Grand Trunk Boating Club in Montreal paddling a 30-foot war canoe called the Minne-wa-wa. It was dated July 2, 1892. Tere is a mix of characters in the boat— smiling lads in dark singlets showing off their muscles, a couple of aboriginal guys, probably from the Mohawk territory of Kahnawake, and even a few older chaps in ties and dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up for regatta action against rival clubs on the mighty St. Lawrence River. Tere are club caps and fedoras. It’s a crew looking proud and happy after a big win. Te story took a turn when I opened a


booklet that came with the photo. What looked like a prize ribbon fell out onto my desk. It said “Minne-wa-wa War Canoe,” but instead of being brightly coloured the rosette on the ribbon was black. And in the program the truth was told. Te crew had paddled from their home


boathouse near what is now the base of Mon- treal’s Champlain Bridge to a regatta down- river at Isle Sainte-Hélène. Tey triumphed in the race, but on the way home they cap- sized and six of the crew of 17 drowned. Te caption indicated that the photo had been taken about an hour before the accident. Tat got me thinking about memory and


18 SPRING 2009


what we as canoeists choose to remember and share with each other. Who knows what kind of footwear these paddlers had on, or how well suited their clothing was to swim- ming, or if they could swim at all? And they were certainly not wearing floatation devic- es (which, of course, was the order of the day for canoeists right up to the late 1960s). So there was the Minne-wa-wa upset


with multiple loss of life in 1892 in Mon- treal. But, with no apparent appreciation of this unnecessary loss of life, the same thing happened again in 1926 on Balsam Lake in Ontario—war canoe upset, multiple deaths. People then wondered how such a terrible thing could have happened. And then more or less the same thing happened in 1978, when four big canoes upset on Lake Temis- kaming resulting in the deaths of 12 boys and a master on a high school canoe trip.


To survive capsizes we have to share the good, the bad and the ugly


clubs that in 1900 formed Te Canadian Canoe Association—and many more like them—are there for people to join. Recreational paddlers have provincial or-


ganizations and national groups like Paddle Canada devoted to connecting paddlers with each other and with the stories of the sport. Tere are films, television networks and magazines like this one that connect people as well. And, of course, in today’s electronic uni-


verse there are growing and sprawling virtu- al aggregations of paddlers. Tey travel the waterways of the web, such as the bulletin board at canoecountry.com or the Wilder- ness Canoe Association’s lively Canadian Ca- noe Routes forum, twittering with late-night chatter about everything from bollards to books, safety tips to winter trips and recipes to races. Never before has it been so easy


it’s never been so easy for far-flung but like-minded canoeophiles to communicate


True, the Temiskaming kids were wear-


ing lifejackets and most succumbed to cold instead of drowning, but at the time people wrung their hands and asked, “How could this have happened?” As though it had never happened before. All of which reminds me how important it


is that people of like minds and common in- terests communicate, so that the stories—of triumph and of tragedy—can be passed on. Although the Grand Trunk Boating Club is no more, at least four of the original nine


for far-flung but like-minded canoeophiles to communicate with one another, and that represents a true strength and great oppor- tunity for a diffused sport such as our own. And, when all else fails, there is mail—the


venerable Canadian Postal Storage System— where a well-placed package from one paddler to another can pass on an instructive tale or two. Tank you Ron Hollingworth, of St. Al- bert, Alberta, for taking the time to write.


JAMES RAFFAN is the executive director of the Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough, Ontario.


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