As part of our responsibilities as Northwesters (counselors in training) in summer 1970, we were sent, each of the five singly, to work with families at YMCA Camp DuNord, the family camp a couple of miles down the road from Widjiwagan. I can’t recall knowing about DuNord before I arrived there. It was a resident camp for families. They stayed a week in cabins or platform tents.
It wasn’t Widjiwagan. Although, some of the Widjiwagan trail standards and procedures, modified slightly, were in place.
Such as the canoe demo.
On the morning of my second day, I was informed that I was to give a canoe flipping demo to a group of adults and older teens. Flipping, of course, is the act of moving a canoe from flat on the water to up on one’s shoulders for carrying it on a portage. I was informed that if the families were going to use the canoes, they needed to know how to flip them.
The fact was I could barely flip a canoe and when I did so it was a frenzied dance step, my feet were moving all over the place as I tried to shove a stalled canoe up onto my shoulders.
Although we’d been practicing demos as part of our training, this was the first time I’d be giving it to people who did not already know how to flip a canoe. It was intimidating. I wasn’t liking being at DuNord very much.
The day before I went to DuNord, we had been practicing the flip. As I said I wasn’t very good at it. I had the strength but not the technique or confidence. Flipping is about technique more than strength. And strength doesn’t make up for lack of technique. When we had practiced, we had been using a Chestnut and a Peterborough, 18 foot freighter canoes that weighed probably 30 pounds more than the aluminum canoe I‘d use at DuNord.
As the moment for my DuNord demo debut, I was nervous and felt no comfort in any of the things around me. Across the gravel area, out of earshot, other staff were teaching other demos, involving use of axe, carrying packs, setting up the tents. The rock circle of a campfire ring was behind me.
I was alone, except for the dozen people sitting in front of me. They all seemed rather disinterested, as if they weren’t going to leave this lake and there wasn’t a need to portage.
One of my troubles with flips was not getting enough thrust from my hips. So, I wanted to make sure I could do it correctly in front of this group. I wanted to get it right.
I did not take into consideration the weight difference between the canoe I had in front of me and the Chestnut canoe I’d recently practiced with.
I started with an explanation of the parts of the canoe. Then I explained the steps of the canoe flip. Standing facing them, holding the canoe on my table (the relative flat surface of my thighs) while I crouched down, I explained that most of the weight of the canoe was on my legs. I explained that my arms weren’t doing the holding, they were just helping with the bow to stern balance.
I explained that to get the canoe from this position to up onto my shoulders and ready to portage required a strong pelvic thrust. I explained that my arms would guide it up but I wasn’t going to lift it, I was throwing it up with my stomach.
Without waiting any longer, not wanting to tire in this position, and with the canoe in balance horizontally, I threw it forward with my hips and stomach. It was a beautiful full thrust, with a strong fast lift toward my shoulders.
Then I realized it was too strong. This wasn’t a Chestnut. It was a lighter Grumman.
The canoe shot upward and over, past my head, now behind me. And almost to the end of my reach and beyond any leverage I had for pulling it back to my shoulders. All I could do was to hold on and follow it through the arc as it crashed into the campfire ring.
The sound of an aluminum canoe hitting rocks with such force must have been heard at Widjiwagan two miles away. It attracted the attention of everyone at DuNord. I was grateful that it had gotten back on the ground without having landed on anyone.
The effect, aside from some possible dents on the canoe, and major dents on my ego, was to create a sort of people call. Everyone in camp turned to see what had happened. The canoe was, surprisingly okay. I went on to have a better relationship with DuNord. A few years after my demo debacle I was the first wintertime caretaker, when we had a family we went to DuNord for nine or ten summers, my daughter was LDP there, and I was on the board. I developed an effective flip technique. I was once on a trip where we did a 9 mile portage – twice. I made a lot of flip-ups and flip downs om that portage. But it was something that my Northwester pal, Peter, said that put it in perspective – he thought it was great thing my being exiled to DuNord and responding by throwing their canoe into the fire ring. I guess it was just right for a story.