Graceful, sleek and occasionally ferocious, the Haida dugout canoe has plied the waters of the Pacific Northwest for thousands of years. Traditionally built on Haida Gwaii, an archipelago off the northwest coast of British Columbia formally known as the Queen Charlotte Islands, the ornate dugout canoe has experienced a revival in recent years.

“The canoe was central to the culture as we know it today,” says Nika Collison, curator at the Haida Heritage Centre in Skidegate, BC. “Historically, the canoe was our highway, our sole vehicle. Today it’s making a comeback, it’s pivotal in our youth gaining a deep interest in Haida culture. It connects the land and water and where they come from.”

Haida dugouts ranged in size from small two-man crafts, no bigger than the common canoes of today, to 70-foot-long, ninefoot- wide, ocean-going war and cargo canoes. Equipped with a raised bow to cut through waves, they were capable of handling most of what the Pacific could throw at them.

“The dugout allowed us to fish off of the shore in great abundance, to travel around the island and contact our relatives. It allowed us to travel across the Hecate Strait to the mainland, acquiring goods that weren’t available locally,” adds Collison. “It not only expanded our own economy, it gave us a broader understanding of the world.” The oral tradition of the Haida people includes stories of journeys by dugout as far south as the coast of California and even Hawaii.

Haida dugouts are made of western red cedar, a tree that can grow over 200 feet tall and 12 feet in diameter. Felled by fire in the summer, the tree would be cut to length and the bark and sapwood removed. Since the trees are heavier on the north side, the log was split east to west to avoid a list in the finished canoe. The basic shape was roughed in and left over winter to season. The next spring work resumed and the canoe was hollowed out. Finishing involved partially filling the canoe with water and using hot rocks to boil the water and steam the sides so that they could be stretched outwards, giving the canoe more beam.

Fires were lit along the canoe’s length to harden and strengthen the wood. Ornately carved bow and stern pieces were sometimes added. Waterproofing was accomplished using fish oil, and splits in the wood were filled with pitch. The finished product was a seaworthy vessel with a rounded hull and flared sides, rising to high bow and stern projections—a thing of beauty.

During the late twentieth century, the traditional knowledge of the canoe’s manufacture was close to dying out before Haida community members and artists, including the late Bill Reid, stepped in. Though there’s only been a handful built in the last 100 years, Haida communities have increasingly been paddling them in exhibitions and race events to connect with their heritage, says Collison.

Guy Kimola is a professional photographer from Masset, Haida Gwaii. www.haidagwaiiphotos.com

This article originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Whether executing a quick and dirty weekend warrior blitz or an epic slog-fest, ultralight, ultra-fast and ultra high-tech are the buzzwords du jour. But what if freeze-dried, fast and furious isn’t your thing? If canoe tripping to you is paddling a lake less traveled, rather than a conquest attained, you’re not alone.

In contrast to today’s hectic lifestyles, many are looking to slow down and absorb, rather than speed up and conquer. There’s an attraction to exploring traditional skills and a deliberate move away from dependence on high-tech gear. This interest has been reflected in spikes in enrolment at traditional skills schools, including the Maine Primitive Skills School, where apprenticeships, courses and day classes are filled to capacity. Here students can learn to forage, make packs from hides and wood, and erect shelters, all without the help of modern materials.

Program staffer Michael Douglas attributes this to folks wanting to “increase our awareness and appreciation for the landscape.” It’s finding a sense of purpose and belonging through using traditional skills that keeps trippers coming back, he says. Take, for example, the once-staple kitchen box, the wanigan. For the uninitiated, a wanigan is a piece of traditional tripping heaven. Made of wood and portaged with a leather tumpline, it neatly stores the tools to create backcountry feasts that feed the body, as well as the soul. When its duty is done, the wanigan is a place to rest weary bones or pass the time playing a game of checkers on its painted lid.

Woodworker Donald Merchant of Pole and Paddle, a company specializing in traditional canoes and gear, has seen a bigger demand for his hand-made wanigans over the past two years…

To read the rest of this article, check out Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Earlier this summer, we reported on a group of paddlers >who planned to paddle around Baffin Island using only the kayaks they built themselves. After 65 days of travel across Baffin Island, kayakers Erik Boomer, Katherine Breen, and siblings Eric and Sarah McNair-Landry were treated to a special welcome as they arrived in Cape Dorset, completing their crossing of Baffin Island. Hundreds of community members turned out to welcome the team as they paddled their traditional Inuit style kayaks into the harbor.

“We were overwhelmed by the greeting that we were given in Cape Dorset,” says Katherine Breen. “The sight of so many people waving and cheering as we landed on the beach brought tears to my eyes. It was amazing to know that so many people were excited about our arrival.”

The team started their adventure in Qikiqtarjuaq in mid July, traveling across the Penny Ice Cap and through Auyuittuq National Park to Pangnirtung. From there, they paddled and portaged a historic route from Cumberland Sound to Nettiling Lake, the Amadjuak River to Amadjuak Lake, and through a series of small lakes to the Southwest coast of Baffin Island.

For the final leg of the expedition, they followed the ocean’s coast to Cape Dorset.

“It certainly isn’t the first time that people have traveled this route. Nearly every day we saw signs of previous travelers on the land.” Sarah McNair-Landry says that the combination of a historic route and a traditional method of travel made for a unique expedition that paid special tribute to the Inuit people of Baffin Island. “Stone cairns and Inukshuks, tent rings, and other artifacts like kayak stands were reminders that people have been traveling on this land for thousands of years.”     

Erik Boomer says that his kayak is the most impressive thing that he has ever built with his own hands. “People were really excited to see our kayaks. The fact that we built them ourselves added a special element to this expedition. In a small way, it is nice to know that we are doing something to help keep the kayaking tradition alive in Nunavut.”

“The expedition brought many challenges including some that we hadn’t expected, says, Eric McNair-Landry. “We’ve heard from many people that this is the coldest summer that they have experienced in over 30 years. The temperatures hovered around zero degrees for the last few weeks of the expedition and staying dry and warm took some creativity. But, challenges like that take and make a great team. We all feel lucky to have had the chance to experience the incredible natural environment that Baffin Island has to offer.”

The team has now arrived back in Iqaluit where they will spend the next few weeks wrapping up the expedition. More information about the team, their route, and traditional kayaks can be found on their website www.pittarak.com. You can also follow them on Facebook at Pittarak Expeditions.

This expedition would not have been possible without support from their sponsors: National Genographic Legacy Grant, NRS, The Royal Canadian Geographic Society, Fist Air, Klattermusen, Hilleberg, Adventure Technology, Camino, Watershed and Voke. 

Billing its unusual creations as the best whitewater rafts ever built, Creature Craft is pushing the limits of what’s possible in inflatables. The boats celebrated a successful descent of the Stikine last year, and creature craft paddlers regularly test themselves against class V+ rivers around the world.

The duelling oar-rig has an admirable safety record. Thanks to its shape and design, the only stable position is right-side up. “All weight is on the bottom side so it’s like an old-style clown pop-up. The bigger the water, the faster it flips up,” says Creature Craft owner and founder Darren Vancil. Thigh straps keep the paddlers in the boat at all times, and feature an easy-release system. “The boat can withstand way more than your body and keep you safe—you’re not getting out unless you want to.”

A former high school teacher, Vancil designed the first creature craft in the fall of 1997, and launched it 18 months later. Inspiration came after his raft flipped during Colorado’s Gore Canyon Race, which resulted in a bad swim and dislocated shoulder. “I decided then, while I was underwater, there’s got to be a better way.” Soon after, Vancil was drawing up designs for a safer raft that could contend with the biggest water.

One of the biggest advantages to paddling the creature craft is that it buys you time. “You have time to follow through on plan B or C, if the first plan isn’t working,” Vancil explains. While paddling the Stikine last September, one boat became trapped in the middle hole at Site Zed rapid… 

This article originally appeared in Rapid, Early Summer 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read the rest here.