Urban canoeing – Humber River, 2200 kilometres within Toronto

by Peter Dick and Ernie Hamm

The canoe, one of the remarkable inventions of indigenous peoples, is ideally suited for escaping the city, usually by means of a long drive and a little planning. Our aim here is, perhaps, a little more unexpected. A canoe has afforded us a most welcome means of exploring and experiencing nature in Canada’s largest city.

Over the past decade, and mostly since the spring of 2020, we have had the opportunity to paddle the Humber River and the near shore waters of Lake Ontario in western Toronto well over 200 times, clocking in well over 2,000 kilometres. One of us, an electrical engineer, is an inveterate calculator and, in keeping with the standards of his profession, logs his daily activities, including our canoeing. It was a surprise to learn a few years ago that we had already canoed many hundreds of kilometres within the city limits of Toronto. We started canoeing together about twelve years ago, when one of us had young children and the close vicinity of the Humber River beckoned. Eventually the children were occupied with other things and the two of us found we were quite happy to continue on our own. 

The impetus to get started on this pastime came from Ernie, but the possibility of doing so came from Peter, who built a sixteen-foot cedar strip canoe in 1976. He was inspired by a cousin who carved a small model and scaled up its dimensions to construct a full-sized frame with templates every 6 inches. Following this example, Peter bench sawed two cedar planks into strips about 1/4 inch thick, stapled these onto the templates with carpenter’s glue between adjacent strips, and edge carved the strips as they curved to meet at the bow and stern. He then pulled out the staples, smoothed the exterior by sanding, laid on fibreglass mesh and painted on resin. He finished the interior in a similar way after removing the frame and templates. Two ¾ by ¾ half rounded cedar strips reinforced the gunwales; they also support the seats by means of perforated steel strapping normally used by plumbers. A cross thwart, carved to fit Peter’s shoulders, finished the job. The weight came in at just forty-three pounds, but we reckon that years of repairs have added to this. The canoe has received countless compliments from fellow paddlers, almost all of whom are surprised to learn it was handmade by one of us. 

Canoeing was a way to get fresh air, exercise and an alternative to our jobs, which tend to keep us at our desks. Peter is still active doing consulting work, despite having been retired for some years, and Ernie is a professor in Toronto. In the “before” times we probably didn’t canoe more than about a dozen times a year. Then came Covid lockdown. Once the first physical distancing was announced we were relieved to learn that the bow and stern positions were separated by the requisite amount and we headed for the river.

We are fortunate that our jobs allow us flexibility and we are happy to compensate for the daytime hours spent on the water, with later nights in front of a screen. There is no regular pattern to the time or day of our paddles. With the exception of various firm obligations, we go when it suits us and the weather permits. So far, the only weather that does not permit is winter and heavy rainstorms that turn the otherwise staid Humber into a raging torrent. We also watch out for high winds: the river is protected by trees and high banks, but Lake Ontario quickly becomes treacherous if the wind picks up, as we have experienced. In early spring we tend to stay off the lake unless it is very reliably calm, for the water is too cold to allow for a mishap.

The starting point of our paddles is directly underneath the bridge that carries the subway over the Humber River. We live on opposite sides of the river and can drive there in five to ten minutes, or a pleasant fifteen-minute walk for Ernie. Our journey takes us past the Toronto Humber Yacht Club (THYC) and after several kilometers and bends in the river, under the several bridges and on to Lake Ontario, weather permitting. Typically, we head south on the lake for a good kilometer, taking us to a point on a peninsula of Humber Bay Park East. Otherwise, we turn east to explore the breakwater along Sunnyside Beach or west where the park has carved out an island and several smaller bays. After returning under the arch of the Humber River Pedestrian Bridge we are back on the quiet waters of the Humber.

We enjoy canoeing morning, noon and evening, tending towards mornings and late afternoons. The riverbanks are heavily forested and once we are well into May, much of the built environment is hidden by foliage. The fall colours can be brilliant, as one would expect, but no less impressive are innumerable shades of green, which seem to be especially intense in spring, when they quickly overcome the greys and browns of winter. The mornings and early evenings afford the best opportunities for seeing wildlife. Beaver and muskrats ply the water near the shore, paralleling our path. After a short, shared journey, they disappear suddenly into camouflaged dens. We have found an American mink warming itself on rocks in the morning sun. Deer graze along the shore and, occasionally, ford or swim in its water. There are several easily accessible backwaters, each of which serves as a kind of wetland oasis for herons, egrets, cormorants, geese, ducks and swans. Along the lower reaches of the Humber, we have seen swan’s nests and their blueish grey eggs. 

The Humber River is quietest before Victoria Day and after Thanksgiving, following the pattern of cottage country; otherwise one does see powered craft moving to and from the THYC, usually at a very sedate pace, sometimes not. Anglers are often on the banks, particularly when the salmon spawn in September and October. Most of the salmon seem to be Coho and Chinook (i.e. Pacific salmon) introduced to Lake Ontario for sport fishing. Atlantic salmon, extirpated in Lake Ontario by the end of the nineteenth century, have been reintroduced into Lake Ontario and they too can be found on the Humber. Neither of us expected that we would come to see and experience so much wildlife within Toronto.

A highlight of one late afternoon paddle was rescuing a Canada Goose. Just upstream of the THYC Peter noticed a goose unable to take flight due to a line it was dragging. We paddled vigorously and caught up with it on the east bank across from King’s Mill Park. We slowed down as we approached, speaking in low voices in the hopes of calming the creature. Ernie left the canoe and slowly, cautiously stroked the goose before untangling the fishing line, which was unusually heavy, from its wing. Eventually he reached over the back of the goose with his right arm and gently held it, reaching down to the hook, a ghastly three-pronged model, firmly embedded in its breast and out of his direct sight. The goose was calm the whole time Ernie dealt with the line and, remarkably, remained so even as he removed the hook, which he somehow managed to do quickly and with what appeared to be minimal damage, but it could not have been anything but painful for the goose, which calmly re-entered the river and swam to its flock. Over the coming days we never noticed a goose that was left behind, unable to fly or otherwise lame. So, we guess and hope it recovered. We pulled in the line — was dragging over 30 metres of it — and disposed of it. The experience reminded Ernie of a moving essay by Paul Theroux on the affinity between geese and people (“Diary: My Gaggle”, London Review of Books, vol. 41, no. 12, 20 June 2019 – https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v41/n12/paul-theroux/diary ).  It also left him feeling cooler to anglers and warmer to geese.

The Humber River changes with the seasons. Spring thaws combined with heavy storms can change its level dramatically. A storm this past July increased the flow from its usual ten to an almost incredible 300 m³/s. Such deluges, intensified by the effects of upstream paving, leave their mark as flotsam, mainly plastic bags, stuck to shrubs and tree branches well above the waterline. 

The route we most often take is 8 ½  kilometres, which we manage in just under two hours. Canoeing is a break in our day. We can leave our homes at 3 pm and be home by 5:30, thanks to the very simple storage and transport methods Peter has devised. He keeps the canoe in his garage, resting its bow on a 2 x 4 that runs from eave to eave about 6 ½ feet above the floor, and its stern on the plate above the garage door. He reaches up to pull the canoe slightly away from the door plate and lower the back to the floor. The garage has casement doors that swing outwards allowing this maneuver. He walks back to the canoe centre and with shoulders under the thwart portages it to the car where he eases the canoe sideways onto the roof. Four half-length pool noodles, slit to fit over the gunwales, provide a cushion between the canoe and car. Two straps, flung over the canoe, returned inside the car with doors open and cinched tight, complete the transfer. This system wouldn’t do for a trip of any distance or speed, but it does the job for the short route and slow drive to the Humber River, which maxes out at less than 50 km/hour.

Our forays are a gift for our physical and mental well-being. Peter’s diary records almost every time the canoe has been dipped into water over the last 48 years. In the past when on camping trips with his family, the canoe offered additional storage space over the van roof. It has tasted the salty Gulf of St Lawrence; Temagami, Killarney and Quetico Lakes; along with the Red, North Saskatchewan and Yukon Rivers. This last river actually hisses as described by Pierre Berton. Due to its speed at Dawson City, numerous cobble stones may be rolling along the bottom, colliding like billiard balls. The cedar canoe then amplifies this sound, similar to the sounding board found in many musical instruments. 

The chart labeled ‘Trips Summary’, by month, indicates the trips we two have made since Covid increased our enthusiasm. We can add another 40 trips taken before that time for a grand total of 279. Based on a conservative average trip length of 8 km, the two of us have now (as of year-end) paddled 2,232 km, all within the city of Toronto. In comparison Google Maps shows this to be greater than the straight-line distance between Toronto and Grasslands National Park in Saskatchewan. 

This distance is large, but the traveling has been easy, thanks to the many trips. The canoe, light, strong, easily maneuverable and repairable, was ideally suited for traversing the vast distances of North America, as it is for exploring the local waters of Toronto. Even so, it is humbling to reflect on the great distances indigenous peoples, and the traders who came after them, covered in a single season. 

*The authors thank Bob Henderson for suggesting this contribution to Nastawgan