Sailing a Tin Can

My first time sailing a canoe: the naïve approach

It has been almost 40 years since I first sailed a canoe, and now is the time to share the experience. I’ll ask the reader to do the same when the time is right, especially if it’s a good story.

I was with my Boy Scout troop out of Miami. We went for a canoe trip into the 10,000 Islands area of Florida, a place where the land and sea fight for preeminence over the very southern tip of the state.

We paddled a mélange of canoes out to an island, maybe just a couple three miles or so. We made camp on ground barely above the high water mark, scattered with coral and transient soil. Plants consisted mostly of sea grape and whatever weedy stuff grows in such inhospitable conditions good only for crabs, mosquitoes and the ubiquitous sand fleas.

By that age I had pretty much reached the point where I was too independent to be a Scout anymore and this would prove to be my last trip hanging off the umbilical of a Scout Master, especially one who (in my youthfully arrogant thinking) was better off sitting in front of the tube watching a Dolphins game than trying to lead a hardened outdoorsman like myself (at the age of 14). I had already spent many days in the Everglades and practically lived in the drained-swamp pine barrens surrounding our southern Dade County home by then. (Within a couple years of this trip I would find myself held by the foot by trap in alligator-infested, chest-deep water in the Big Cypress Swamp; but that’s another story.)

During one of the many lulls in the camp action, I took off with the canoe assigned to me and my tent mate, a Grumman, if memory serves; aluminum, for sure. Packing a spinning rod and a mullet gig, I went in search of adventure, and maybe some fresh fish for dinner. After sticking myself a black mullet and baiting a hook, I settled down in the bottom of the canoe in my usual repose: horizontal—napping. After a bit, I had a strike. Shark! It pulled hard and began swimming to deeper water with a tin canoe and teenager attached. I hung on and adjusted my rod angle so the boat would stay inline with the fish, knowing a broach would be uncalled for when a shark is on the line.

Read the rest here!