I remember watching an aging Dick Schafrath toss 80-pound canoes onto the upper tiers of a trailer without breaking a sweat. I decided then and there that I wanted to grow up to be like him — wrangling heavy canoes well into my golden years. (I had already given up on dreams of being a pro football great, state senator, or canoe livery owner.)
So here I am, in my 70s, still holding my own on portage trails and helping friends lift monstrously heavy canoes on river trips and cleanups. But I’m no Dick Schafrath. He built superhuman strength and stamina by shoving very large football players out of Jim Brown’s way. When I hoist a canoe, I’m breaking a sweat — and records for SWPS (Swear Words Per Second).
This really hit home after I bought a new cap for my truck. With the boat rack installed, it’s about a foot higher than it used to be. I have, in effect, raised the bar at a time in my life when I should be lowering it and doing something more sensible. Like buying a Lamborghini and putting a canoe rack on it.
I spent more on the cap than I’d care to admit, although considerably less than I would for a slightly used Countach. Still, I’ve reached my limit and can’t see springing for a fancy canoe and kayak lift.
Not that I’d buy one anyway. (A Lamborghini or a lift.) I’ve seen a number of designs, and none seem to work as advertised. I’ve watched paddlers struggle to hoist canoes and kayaks onto their vehicles using these overengineered and underbuilt contraptions. They usually end up with gouges and dents on their hulls and vehicles and an occasional trip to the emergency room.
So I decided to go the DIY route. Most people would go online and look up YouTube videos on how to build canoe and kayak lifts; not me. For inspiration, I turned to my favorite handyman — Red Green.
None of the episodes of Red’s long-running Canadian comedy show featured canoe lifts. (Am I allowed to mention Canada in a U.S. newspaper?) But I did pick up some pointers on converting an old hatchback into a washing machine.
So, it was back to the drawing board.
My truck cap came with a ladder rack. I planned to attach my old Yakima bars to that.
A hundred dollars’ worth of hardware later, I had what I needed to secure the bars to the ladder rack. Then I had to figure out how to make rollers so I could hoist my 72-pound Grumman up there without giving myself a hernia or gouging the truck cap.
It was time to move on to the planning stage. For me, that usually starts with a nap. Next, I head out to the nearest home improvement center. (In my world, anything I buy from a home improvement center never results in any kind of noticeable improvement.) Then I wander aimlessly up and down the aisles looking for something that might work.
Inevitably, an employee will notice me and ask, “Can I help you?”
My stock response is, “Not unless you’re a psychiatrist moonlighting at Home Depot.”
After being asked to leave, I drove to the sprawling metropolis of Jelloway and stopped at Mohican Hardware. Which is one of the places I go, as mom used to say, when my money’s burning a hole in my pocket.
After wandering the aisles — and checking the outdoor sporting goods loft to drool over fishing tackle — I found what I needed, gray PVC conduit.
It so happened that they had 10-foot lengths of heavy-duty conduit with an inside diameter slightly larger than the outside diameter of my Yakima bars. After buying that and three or four things I didn’t need, I headed home to work on my canoe rollers.
I cut the conduit into pieces short enough to fit between the mounting hardware and canoe brackets, slid them onto the bars and bolted the bars to the ladder rack. Before sliding the conduit on, I doused the inside with the handyman’s second-favorite secret weapon — WD40.
If you have to ask what the handyman’s number one secret weapon is, you need more Red Green in your life.
For good measure, I also coated the outside of the conduit with WD40. That way, if the rollers didn’t work, at least I could slide the gunwales of the canoe across the pieces of conduit.
I tested my new roller system and, much to my astonishment, it worked! I imagined that Dick Schafrath was looking down from heaven, scratching his head and asking himself, “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”
I celebrated my unlikely success by taking another nap.
This originally was published as a column in the Ashland Times-Gazette, Wooster Daily Record and possibly other Gannett papers.
well at least it helps ya! And it aint an hairbrained idea if it works!!