A beloved cultural artifact of...
Illustration
A beloved cultural artifact of the Adirondack region of New York is the Adirondack Guide Boat -- a sort of half-canoe and half-rowboat, well-suited to the lakes and small rivers of that region. Like a canoe, this boat is long and pointed at one end like a canoe; yet it's also flat-bottomed, like a rowboat. It's propelled with oars, instead of paddles. Traditionally, it was used by wilderness guides, to lead young "sports" from the city on hunting and fishing expeditions.
In the center of the Adirondack Guide Boat is a design feature that appears strange to those who have never seen such a boat in use. Crossing the boat at its widest point is a horizontal bar, much like the thwart at the center of a canoe. Yet, this thwart swivels -- so its purpose is not structural. It also contains an odd, bowl-shaped depression at its center.
This horizontal bar is a yoke: for the guide boat is designed both to be rowed and to be carried, on the frequent portages that are necessary in this lake-dotted wilderness region. After the old-time Adirondack guides had carried their gear ahead, they would flip the empty boat over, hold it over their heads, and rest the yoke on the back of the neck. These guides would cherish their boats; it was their single, most important piece of equipment. Some of them literally lived in their boats, turning them upside-down beside a campfire, even rigging a canvas canopy over the top, so the whole thing became a sort of tent.
A tiny, woven basket, caulked with bitumen and pitch, bore the infant Moses to safety down the Nile. Difficult as it must have been, Moses' mother gave him a push, and allowed him drift right out of her life, and -- as it happened -- right into the life of Pharaoh's daughter, who providentially raised him. It turned out that Moses' little basket-boat was the perfectly adapted craft to save his life, although it was swiftly abandoned.
When parents bring their children to the church for Christian education, they're making sure they have a sort of boat for navigating the waters of life. When the educational process begins, that boat is a mere basket -- a rudderless, bobbing craft in which the child drifts aimlessly, until a loving adult reaches out and pulls him or her in. Eventually, those pint-sized sailors will grow, and one day they'll have a more intentionally designed boat -- as they make their own profession of faith.
Sometimes, on the clear, dark waters of a deep mountain lake, the Adirondack Guide Boat carries its owner. Other times, on the hard, uphill slog of a portage, he carries the boat -- balancing it on its built-in yoke. As hard and long as the portage might be, those old-time guides knew it was foolishness to leave their boat behind -- for though the forest walk might seem easy without it, sooner or later the glistening vision of another lake would appear, around a bend in the footpath. Then, it would be a simple matter to flip the boat back over, re-stow the gear, place the oars back in the oarlocks, and glide off once again.
Sometimes, in life, we carry our boats. Other times, our boats carry us.
In the center of the Adirondack Guide Boat is a design feature that appears strange to those who have never seen such a boat in use. Crossing the boat at its widest point is a horizontal bar, much like the thwart at the center of a canoe. Yet, this thwart swivels -- so its purpose is not structural. It also contains an odd, bowl-shaped depression at its center.
This horizontal bar is a yoke: for the guide boat is designed both to be rowed and to be carried, on the frequent portages that are necessary in this lake-dotted wilderness region. After the old-time Adirondack guides had carried their gear ahead, they would flip the empty boat over, hold it over their heads, and rest the yoke on the back of the neck. These guides would cherish their boats; it was their single, most important piece of equipment. Some of them literally lived in their boats, turning them upside-down beside a campfire, even rigging a canvas canopy over the top, so the whole thing became a sort of tent.
A tiny, woven basket, caulked with bitumen and pitch, bore the infant Moses to safety down the Nile. Difficult as it must have been, Moses' mother gave him a push, and allowed him drift right out of her life, and -- as it happened -- right into the life of Pharaoh's daughter, who providentially raised him. It turned out that Moses' little basket-boat was the perfectly adapted craft to save his life, although it was swiftly abandoned.
When parents bring their children to the church for Christian education, they're making sure they have a sort of boat for navigating the waters of life. When the educational process begins, that boat is a mere basket -- a rudderless, bobbing craft in which the child drifts aimlessly, until a loving adult reaches out and pulls him or her in. Eventually, those pint-sized sailors will grow, and one day they'll have a more intentionally designed boat -- as they make their own profession of faith.
Sometimes, on the clear, dark waters of a deep mountain lake, the Adirondack Guide Boat carries its owner. Other times, on the hard, uphill slog of a portage, he carries the boat -- balancing it on its built-in yoke. As hard and long as the portage might be, those old-time guides knew it was foolishness to leave their boat behind -- for though the forest walk might seem easy without it, sooner or later the glistening vision of another lake would appear, around a bend in the footpath. Then, it would be a simple matter to flip the boat back over, re-stow the gear, place the oars back in the oarlocks, and glide off once again.
Sometimes, in life, we carry our boats. Other times, our boats carry us.
