The Hunt for Red October

I just bought a canoe, something I haven’t owned in many years. It’s stirring up some pleasant memories.

I had never set foot into a canoe until the summer of my freshman year in college. A job I had lined up fell through and I glommed onto a last minute opening at a camp in the Pocono Mountains. Which is to say, I became a POW. Working 24/7 with a horde of rich brats banished by relieved parents to be warehoused for the summer is not something I’d wish on anyone. But, that’s another story.

One day, the head counselor took me aside and said I would co-lead an overnight canoe trip for the 14 year old girl bunks. Excuse me? I was co-counselor of a boys bunk and ran the boxing/weightlifting programs. And, a city boy, I had never been in a canoe. This makes sense how?

The explanation was that the girl counselors didn’t want to be out there without a man and that I had my water safety instructor certification (swimming). Also, they could trust me with the wild girl bunk. That speaks volumes on the qualities of the other male counselors.

The event was a travesty of epic proportion, but that’s also another story. I didn’t anticipate any subsequent circumstance where I’d repeat the attempt. However, the following summer I spent at college and some buddies talked me into renting canoes one weekend. It consisted mainly of drinking ridiculous volumes of beer and tipping each other over. That’s more like it. We’d do that many times before graduation.

Subsequent to that, I was too immersed in career and then starting a family to give it a thought. As the children grew, I searched for a vehicle to bond with them. Paddling and camping would get us away from distractions and facilitate the process. But first, I should learn the right way.

So, I signed up for a course one chilly spring weekend. They worked us hard and I came to appreciate the canoe as an art form as well as a sport.

The kids grew up and I migrated to kayaks for my own entertainment. They were more versatile and easier to solo. The overall trend in paddling was that they eclipsed canoes. From time to time, I’d see canoes and the graceful lines would give a tug at my heartstrings, but I never acted on the feeling.

That’s the way it was until a couple months ago when a friend expressed a desire to do some canoeing. It just struck me right and the search for a worthy steed commenced.

In the eternal quest to find the perfect kayaks, I have purchased about four dozen in the past six years, developing good sourcing in the process. One would think this would carry over to canoes and the task would be simple. One would think.

The first step is defining the objective. I researched available models and variations, generating a short list. It would be 16-17’ long, constructed of Royalex and have certain design features. I was a little disappointed to find that most Royalex canoes come in but two colors, red and green.

Since canoes had waned in popularity, I did foresee that the selection of used boats would be somewhat limited. Pickings were slimmer than I thought. Those who had the models I wanted were apparently hanging onto them.

I emailed my industry contacts, who are usually a great source of overstocked and blemished kayaks this time of year. This was a different story.

With kayaks, they’d have deep stock in a broad variety of make and model, and were happy to let me pick and choose. In canoes, they were saddled with a few losers and many tried aggressively to steer me to them. A couple crossed the line.

In one case, a dealer intimated that if I didn’t help him unload one of his orphans, I couldn’t expect any more deals on kayaks. Odd technique with a volume customer. The declining economy could be affecting his mood. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and simply thanked him for the response.

Another emailed a tirade against the model I had inquired about. Didn’t I know that company had been acquired by a large corporation three years ago (this was off by about 25 years) and most of the money went into overhead instead of their boats? He suggested – check, make that insisted – I look at this other boat he did have in stock. Ranting, skewing of facts and denigrating a brand he carried did not bode well. It was obvious what I was dealing with and I didn’t even bother to reply.

This was looking like a dry hole. I still had on-line classifieds and auctions to work through. The canoeing hotbeds, such as they are, are located some distance away. More of a problem than with kayaks because the lower value: size ratio of canoes makes shipping a more significant variable.

I usually enjoy this process, but this was getting frustrating. Then, fate took a hand.

We were having a boat swap meet. I didn’t recall anyone ever showing up with a canoe, but a woman emailed me that she was bringing one. Hmmm. It was a notch or two above what I had been looking for and she hadn’t mentioned condition, but maybe… Nah, didn’t want to get my hopes up.

So, the appointed day came up and no sign of her, at first. That happens. Then, the door swung wide and she carried it in. Beautiful lines and it hardly had a scratch on it. Best of all, it wasn’t green or red. A very attractive burgundy. I tried not to salivate.

She placed it in the boat row and came over to me. And, quoted a price not that much less than retail.

Was she serious? Not exactly a boom market for canoes and initial depreciation on paddlecraft is a steep drop. In the art of the deal, you don’t want to get adversarial so I didn’t point out her weak position. “Thanks, but not interested at that price.”

“Make me an offer.” I went a little low, testing the water.

“No way. It’s like new.” True enough, but the golden rule applies. He who has the gold rules. I shrugged and she walked away.

She wasn’t getting much traffic, so I walked over after a bit. I could’ve tried another offer in the low range, but I like to see both sides happy with the deal. I offered to split the difference, saying that she was getting a fair price and could leave with a pocket full of cash instead of having to haul the boat back home. She declined. Okay.

As we were closing up, she came over, tipping her position, and countered my offer for $10 more and not a cent less. The deal hung on a measly ten bucks? I smiled. It was all about winning to her. To me, it was just about getting a nice boat at a fair price. I took it.

That would be the end of the story except for an hour later I entered by home to find the message light flashing. An industry contact had located a cache of ridiculously low priced factory seconds. Did I want one?

Isn’t that the way it always is? I had to laugh.