Building a wood and canvas canoe

Is there anything more evocative of the word ‘bushcraft’ than setting off into remote country in a canoe?

If I think back far enough it was probably iconic films like Last of the Mohicans that really helped set the seed in my head for wanting to explore the north woods, to start learning how to camp outdoors and eventually become involved in teaching bush skills professionally.

Learning how to use a canoe came relatively late on in my life compared to my formative bushcraft training years but once I started it soon became a favoured way of making wilderness journeys like so many others have found before.

Sweden as a place to travel in nature has always had a huge draw for me since I first visited in 2006. Since then I have spent many months travelling the wild lakes and woodlands both personally on holidays and professionally guiding others, typically enjoying the beautiful Autumn season.

The more I used the canoe the more I wanted to manufacture the craft for myself rather than relying on plastics, fibreglass and aluminium – accessible and robust as these boats are they lack something of the spirit of the north woods from which they were first conceived.

A few years back I decided I would try and build a wood frame and canvas covered canoe, drive it out to Sweden and use it to move myself and my equipment around the woods on a few trips I would be delivering in the Malingsbo-Kloten area.

Where to begin!? Was my first frustration, so much to know, so many mistakes to make and as it turned out, only 8 weeks to get the thing built! The answer came in the form of a stunningly informative book by Rollin Thurlow of Northwoods Canoes, The Wood and Canvas canoe.

Critically for me, the back of this book contains detailed measurements for several different designs of canoe. I settled on the shortest at 11’ – I figured it would require the least tricky woodwork as the clock was ticking!

Interestingly for me I learnt the traditional term for taking detailed measurements when boat building ‘lofting out’ was due to the dusty, messy nature of canoe building workshops so the important measuring and use of paper and ink was typically done in the loft away from the mess! I didn’t have a loft so got straight to it on the kitchen table.

Essentially you have two measurements on an x and y axis which you then translate onto inch square grid paper (I made my own from baking paper) which will then give you the cross section of the hull of the boat at a number of different points along its length. The shape you end up with on paper describes the outline of the hull from keel line to gunwale, and so you then fold the paper and trace to achieve the same outline for the other half of the hull.

I had to account for the measurements being the final exterior dimensions of the hull, not what would be the exterior dimensions of the form I would need to build before the canoe could be born. I took a guess at how thick the ribs, planks and canvas would be and deducted that figure from the lofting details.

Sometime later I had several paper shapes which represented the cross sectional shapes of the canoe’s hull if you were to look at it end on or from the bow/ stern along its length. These templates were drawn around on ¾’’ ply and cut out very carefully to keep the measurements faithful.

Once all the ply templates were ready I installed them vertically along a solid piece of 2×8 lumber. The ply sheets arranged in this way are referred to as station molds and once mounted at the correct spacing help you to visualise the shape of your form which in turn will define your canoe.

Inserting what is referred to as part of the ‘strong back’ into the station molds to string them all together along what would be the keel line of the canoe took some careful carpentry. Soon after, it was time to make separate forms to create the stem pieces which would give the shape to both bow and stern of the canoe.

Using the same ¾’’ ply I glued many sheets together to gain the desired width and strength to bend 2 lengths of hand carved Ash wood. This is only made possible by steaming (if the wood is fairly green) or soaking and steaming (if using seasoned wood) the material to make it pliable enough to be bent and held on a form.

By introducing wooden chocks at various points along the curve of the form it is possible to pin the wood being bent tightly against the form where it remains clamped until dry some days later when it will then hold its new shape. There is something magical about steaming wood like this and makes all sorts of projects possible from snowshoes to pack frames and wannigans (kitchen boxes).

Steaming wood can be tricky as it cools rapidly once out of the steam box giving you only a few minutes to manipulate it into the shape you want. Having an extra person to hand would be good advice!

There is much to know about wood grain, annual ring orientation, moisture content and species to get good results but a little splintering at the surface (pictured above) at the points of greatest tension is to be expected sooner or later. Fortunately I was able to carve beneath this damage and still have enough wood to be strong enough.

The two stem pieces being identical in this canoe were attached to either end of the canoe mold and long strips of wood (ribbands) were positioned longitudinally joining together all of the station molds. Importantly these ‘ribbands’ are inset into the station molds so as not to interfere with the canoe when it is formed over the top of the mold.

The beauty of this type of ‘open form’ is the speed at which it can be made before getting started on the canoe build itself. A solid form is of course preferable being far more stable, durable and enables the installation of metal strips which aid greatly in securing the planking to the ribs with brass tacks.

What followed was a repetitive week of table sawing, hewing, carving, sanding and steaming 36 green ash wood ribs and fitting them over the canoe form. The two internal gunwales were also shaped from one 15’ ash sapling and installed along the length of the form joining onto both stem pieces.

All the ribs were screwed into the gunwales with a little excess poking beyond them which would be trimmed later. The use of zip ties to secure the ash ribs to the ribbands and prevent them moving or losing shape was convenient but a regrettable use of plastic that comes as a downside when using an open form.

Next comes a thank you to Jon Magellan who very kindly allowed me to borrow his portable table saw and thickness planer (neighbourly relations nose-dived during these weeks…) as well as help myself to a huge stack of beautifully seasoned and knot-free Larch wood! Jon actually built his own house using the same Larch to clad the exterior and is something of a woodwork wizard but didn’t offer a single shred of warning against table sawing in flip flops, which I’ve since learnt is not considered industry standard.

The Larch boards were trued up on the table saw, making as many strips as possible they were then brought down to a final depth of 4mm making them flexible enough to be contoured to the shape of the Ash ribs.

To fix the planks to the ribs I ordered hundreds of brass tacks specially made for the job. The idea is to drive the tack through the plank, all the way through the rib beneath it and then to bend the tip over and back up into the rib. This is achieved traditionally with a heavy hand held lump of iron known as a clinching iron. Clinching irons can be bought custom made but I found removing the head from a lump hammer worked admirably well and gave the forearms a nice work out too. Each tack was driven in place with the hammer head held beneath where it would exit the rib and so driving it back into the rib forming an incredibly strong union between plank and rib that is not able to pull apart as per a typical nail.

Planking is time consuming but enjoyable work and replaces the need for all those zip ties holding the ribs in place. The moment finally came when it was time to remove the ‘canoe’ from the form, a scary moment but so much fun to see the ribs and planks holding together in something loosely resembling the inside of a canoe!

With the form now redundant in the build it was time to knuckle down and carve the remaining ribs that were very tightly bent to fit inside the tight spaces forming the bow and stern of the canoe. Ladling boiling water over the rib and progressively increasing the bend until I got the right fit seemed to work nicely.

Once the last ribs were installed, the remaining planking (some of the most tricky) could be fitted around the stem pieces bringing the finished shape of the hull to life. Boiled linseed oil was heated very gently heated and liberally applied to help seal the planking before the canvas was put in place.

Other than installing the centre thwart and carry handles the wood work of the build was now complete and the canvas sheeting was stretched as tightly as possible over the upturned boat and tacked into place along the entire length of both gunwales (exterior gunwales were fitted over the top to disguise this attachment and complete the aesthetic of the canoe).

Filing the weave of the canvas traditionally was achieved using lead based paints which we now know was incredibly toxic to both environment and crafts person alike! Oil based paints are a modern alternative but if you are constructing in the UK these will need to be imported especially as they are now banned from sale.

With only days to go until my Sweden expedition, Jon M turned up to inspect the build and retrieve his tools. Helpfully he pointed out that the lovely looking colour, carefully applied garage floor paint was infact water soluble… For the next three nights leading up to the start of the expedition, I applied 3 coats of spar varnish to seal the paint filler and attempt to water proof the hull.

Experimentally, I trialled using a seam of Birch tar along one canvas join and Pine resin along the other to see how each performed at keeping water out. Once on trip both worked well for a few days but the pine resin being more brittle soon began to take damage and let water through, although slowly. The birch tar was excellent.

To paddle out into wild country in a canoe you’ve made for yourself is a strange feeling to try and write about. There is a memory of some obstacle, difficulty, mistake, solution and eureka in every piece of the material that is keeping you afloat and responding to the paddle, your body’s position and the cargo you are carrying.

The cliché thing to say would be I felt satisfaction knowing that I could replace any of the wooden ribs, gunwales, handles or yoke if they became damaged. True as this is, what I felt more was the intensified presence of ‘artificial’ materials in the canoe itself, particularly the canvas and the paint/ varnishes I had used.

Bushcraft to me has always been about taking responsibility for the necessities in outdoor living, most of this comes from the natural materials around us but a degree of it comes from the choice equipment we carry with us. What carries us and this choice equipment in the north woods are the canoe and the snow shoe. I am pleased to have started learning about how these incredible tools of transport are made and used in a ‘traditional’ sense.