Canoe Restoration

The old family canoe is among the many things I have inherited from my dear old Dad. A piece of equipment that was enveloped in a certain amount of intrigue and respect on my part. We had two canoes growing up, the "ancestral" canoe (as I've come to call it), and the Sponson. The Sponson seemed a little more durable and was able to withstand the trials small humans learning how to paddle in it. Meanwhile, the elusive ancestral canoe remained at home. It was almost epic; hanging in the garage, never coming down from it's ropey hammock, gathering dust and staying just out of reach. I can remember when Dad said he was taking it down from its resting place on a Summer's afternoon when I was 14, as he and I were planning a trip to Algonquin Park and he wanted to take the ancestral canoe his feeling being that the Sponson was too heavy. He ran several tests, putting the canoe in water to test its sea-worthiness. First test revealed it needed a bit of patch work... and by "a bit" I mean almost re-canvasing. It must be said that the ancestral canoe deserved to need a bit of repair, after all it was rough 90 years old at the time.

As I can remember being told as a kid, the canoe was made around the same time my Grand Dad was born, 1914. I now know that it arrived in the Conway family when it was presented to Grand Dad as a thank you from the Montreal tanning company in the 1950's. After being carted up to Algonquin several times with the Conway boys, and eventually making its way back to Montreal to be with our family, it continued its journey heading over the Atlantic to live in the Vicarage's garage in another ropey hammock and again to Bloxham, and finally coming back home where it's being kindly looked after by my Uncle Paul.

After Dad made it adequately sea worthy when he and I took it up to Algonquin, we put it through its paces; tracking and chuting rapids, going on a 25km portage in Dad's old stomping ground, bringing the epoxy with us as needed. The evidence of this trip is still visible on the body where the grey epoxy scars rest on the scraped forest green paint. Seeing these scars, and watching the gunwale wood slowly rot made me sad knowing how much care Dad took to make it sea worthy 10 years ago. Now that it's safely ensconced on this side of the ocean, I've decided it's time to restore it to its original state. Therefore I have taken on the epic task of repairing the rotten wood, stripping the old canvas and replacing it with new and giving it a new coat of green paint. With the loving help of my Uncle I've set out on a symbolic journey; Every moment I'm spending with the ancestral canoe, is a wonderful reminder of the trip with my dear old Dad and
how much he loved Algonquin park and everything it stood for.

These are a few photos of how this journey started and I will post more as more progress is made.

Uncle Paul strapping down the canoe for its journey into Ontario.

All ready to go!

On the "operating table"

The Algonquin scars...

The rotting wood I'm facing.

Removal of the gunwales, thwarts and rusty screws...

...therefore exposing the rotting ribs.

Once the gunwales have been removed, the canoe want to become a "wooden door mat". So in order to prevent this, we keep it held together with webbed strapping.

Stripping back the canvas revealing the cedar planking underneath, which luckily is in pretty good shape!

Tools of the trade.