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By Tamia Nelson March 7, 2006
A print made from a hand-tinted glass lantern
slide lies before me on my desk. The original photograph was taken in the
late nineteenth century. A white horse in a cart harness waits quietly for
the photographer to finish his exposure, while his sour-faced driver stands
at the forward end of an unsprung wagon, reins in hand, impatient to move
off down the sandy track. A handful of onlookers clusters nearby, while in
the distance a lush green wood extends right up to the water's edge. A
two-tiered rack rises above the bed of the wagon, supporting four elegant
Adirondack guideboats, the light but stable canoes in which grizzled locals
rowed city-bred "sports" from one waterfront hotel to another, making
occasional stops along the way to shoot a swimming deer or hook a brookie
on a streamer.
This was Nessmuk
country, and the photo I've just described was probably made around the
time of his death in 1890. While most locals roughed it back then, many
sporting gentlemen had the means and inclination to smooth it. Adirondack
waterways were (and still are) a paddler's paradise. Portages linked pond
to pond and lake to lake along scores of well-traveled routes, where hotels
stood ready to cater to the needs of tired guests at the end of each
invigorating day. Their guides weren't always so lucky, however. They did
the heavy lifting, after all, and while guideboats were lightweight
compared to other rowboats, they could never be mistaken for the
ten-and-one-half pound Sairy Gamp made for Nessmuk by the "Little
Giant," the Canton, New York, canoe builder J.H. Rushton. Hauling a
waterlogged guideboat on your back over a steep esker was
no more enjoyable in 1890 that it would be today. Nineteenth-century
camping gear wasn't exactly lightweight, either. That's why many guides
took advantage of wheeled carts or wagons to get their boats and baggage
over the portages ("carries" in Adirondack parlance, then as now). If
wheeled transport was lacking, horse-drawn sleds were sometimes pressed
into service.
But Adirondack guides weren't the only ones to look for an easier way to
portage their boats. Long before the Reverend William Murray's 1869
best-seller, Adventures in the Wilderness, lured thousands of city
clerks, school teachers, and doctors into the Adirondacks where they
braved blackflies,
bad food, and hurricane-force squalls in their pursuit of manly exercise
and the simple life the pragmatic "servants" of the Hudson's Bay
Company were experimenting with rollers and rails in an effort to speed
York boats across many of the portages on the Company's Main Line. They had
no choice. York boats were simply too heavy to carry on the boatmen's
shoulders. (Similar fixed rollers can be found on many Canadian portages
today, particularly in popular fishing areas.) And in the Canadian West,
Red River carts were frequently pressed into service by the Métis
"wagon-men" to transport canoes from one prairie waterway to another.
You'll find a contemporary (1847) illustration of a Red River cart being
used for just this purpose in Peter C. Newman's Caesars of the
Wilderness.
It's obvious that wheeled transport has long played a role in the
history of canoeing. And as we've heard many times before
History Repeats Itself
OK. The glory days of the Company lie in the past, and not many
waterfront hotels remain along backcountry routes in the Adirondack Park.
The voyageur, Orkney boatman, and Métis wagon-man are now only
bit players in summer pageants, as is the unshaven Adirondack guide with a
plug of tobacco in his cheek and the tattered remains of last winter's long
johns still clinging to his spindly shanks. Most modern paddlers in search
of a wilderness experience travel independently and carry their bedding in
their boats. Luckily, today's boats and gear are lighter than their
nineteenth-century counterparts. (Few of our canoes can better Sairy
Gamp's minuscule weight, however.) But this hasn't exactly made
portaging fun. Portages
still test the resolve of canoeists and kayakers, and a lot of us find
ourselves wishing we could hitch a ride on a Red River cart from time to
time. This has led a few of us to
Rediscover the Wheel
Of course, you won't see a Red River cart in the catalogs, but you'll
find nearly everything else. On one end of the spectrum are the trailers
intended to haul a rigid boat behind a bike.
The upside? They'll save you
money at the gas pump. And the downside? They're not really designed to
be used as portage carts. If you own one, you may want to experiment. But
if not, you'll probably want to look elsewhere.
The workhorses of wheeled backcountry transport modern paddlers'
Red River carts, if you will are heavy-duty portage carts. They're
pretty simple affairs: a steel or aluminum frame, a cradle of some sort for
your boat, and a couple of wheels. The wheels fold away or come off when
the cart's not in use, and the frame can often be collapsed. On the trail,
two webbing straps hold your boat in the cradle, while pneumatic tires
cushion the ride. (Don't forget a spare tube, patch kit, and pump!) Portage
carts are simple to use, too. Lock the wheels in place. Adjust the frame to
fit, and lash your boat securely, with the center thwart right over the
center of the cart. Then just walk on down the trail, one paddler at each
end. If your boat is tough enough, you won't even have to unload it
you can cross every portage in a single trip. Bliss! (A hint: To limit the
strain on the hull, concentrate your gear in the center of your boat, right
over the cart.) You'll have to carry the portage cart along with you on the
water, of course, but it's worth it. There's probably no easier way to get
a big freighter or sailing
canoe across a long portage.
Does this sound like overkill? No problem. Move down-market. You'll find
the heavy-duty portage cart's little brothers and sisters in almost every
catalog. They have lighter frames, solid tires, and sometimes only one
strap to hold your boat in place. They're not meant for loaded freighters,
and they're not up to long hauls, but for most of us, they're plenty good
enough. Some cradle one end of the boat, rather than the center. No
problem. All of them will do the job, if you just keep their limitations in
mind.
And while we're speaking of limitations, the devil's in the details,
isn't it? Remember that
What Goes Around
Comes around. And there's no such thing as a free launch. Then again, carrying your
boat on your back ("backing" was the old Adirondack guides' word for
it) isn't what I'd call easy, either. In fact, it can involve a lot of
twisting and shouting. Not to mention the occasional sickly Crunch!
followed almost immediately by a very expensive flight to an even more
expensive ER. A cart will spare you all this. But you knew there was
a but coming, didn't you? it ain't as easy as it looks. Few
portage trails are smooth, dry, and level, and few carts negotiate roots,
rocks, and mud holes with much grace. Larger wheels help, as do pneumatic
tires, but sooner or later you'll discover why every wagon driver had a
shovel strapped to the side of the box. And then there are the hills.
Pushing and pulling your load uphill is usually just hard work, but easing
it down the other side can be a real challenge. Most climbing accidents
happen during the descent, and I wouldn't be surprised if the same thing
were also true of portages. At any rate, more than a few Company boatmen
died when their York boats got away from them on a long downhill grade. The
upshot on downhills? On a really steep slope you may need to belay your
boat for safety's sake. And what about beaches
and swamps?
Sand and water, particularly salt water, don't do bearings any good
at all and if your wheel bearings go, your cart is now a sledge.
This is (with a nod to George Orwell) doubleplus ungood.
There's more. Do you have room for your cart inside your boat? If your boat
is a kayak, the answer is probably No. How will a bulky 16- to
20-pound deck load affect your windage? Or your roll? Better find out
before you leave for the put-in. Unless you anticipate a killer portage
not likely on a weekend
adventure you may decide to leave your wheels at home. And then
there's the joker in the pack. Many parks and wilderness areas prohibit
all forms of wheeled transport on portage trails, including bikes and
portage carts. Curiously, the same areas may permit ATVs and
snowmobiles, at least in some places. Occasionally, they're even permitted
on the same trails. Go figure. I suppose this just goes to show that
"tradition" is a mighty flexible rule when it's invoked to establish
acceptable use. In any case, you don't want to get a ticket for illegal
carting on the portage trail, do you? Certainly not. So learn the rules
before you go.
Still interested in rediscovering the wheel? Then
Let's go Shopping
There's not much to it, and most of what follows is just common sense. A
portage cart isn't a Porsche, after all. It's a cart. Know how much you can
afford to spend, and stay within your budget. (You don't want to spend
much? Then check out garage sales in canoe country, or build your own.)
Match your wheels to their intended use. A heavy-duty cart is out of place
at a summer cottage, while a light-duty cart will be useless on a stony,
three-mile portage, when you have a month's worth of food and gear in your
boat. Make sure whatever cart you buy fits in your boat, and that your boat
fits on whatever you buy and be sure you can exchange it if it
doesn't. Test you new cart under a full load before you hit the trail.
Tackle a few hills, too. And buy any spare parts and tools you know you'll
need long before you need them: patch kit, inner tubes (a spare tire might
come in handy on an expedition), minipump,
special wrenches, extra webbing, even waterproof grease and ball bearings.
That's it. Now you're ready to hit the trail.
We might live in the age of high-tech materials, but most of us would
still be happy to take some of the weight off our shoulders if we could,
particularly on the portage trail. That's why many canoeists and kayakers
are rediscovering the wheel. So listen up. You just might hear a different
beat in the music of the north wind and it could be the rumble of a
Red River cart. Will you be the next paddler to rock and roll your way
through the backcountry? Stranger things have happened.
Copyright © 2006 by Verloren Hoop Productions. All rights
reserved.
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