One, two, three tries and you're in -- the pond

And out on the open water without a motor. Actually, we had the motor. It's just that it had become tangled in some kind of weeds and thumped and shook instead of pushing and steering us.

Kind of frustrating, since the first time we had used our "new" used electric outboard motor it had run so well.

This time it did too, after we found a dock for Dolores to cling to while I used my walking stick to clean the veggies out of the propeller blade.

Just getting the canoe into the water had taken three weeks, a good chunk of time since the pond we put her in is less than an hour from home.

We bought the used 14-foot Old Town fiberglass because the ancient aluminum 18-footer, "AB" for Aluminum Battleship, was too long for either 13-foot Toyota and too heavy for us to keep hefting it on and off the pickups we had to rent to carry her.

We gave AB to my daughter and her husband from South Paris.* All Paul had to fasten AB to their pickup was ropes. Ropes never tie tight enough when you need them too.

So we gave them the middle strap of our L.L. Bean canoe carrier, planning to replace it with some kind of ratchet strap from a local auto-parts store. A clerk at the auto parts store showed me several ratchet straps, all of which cost around $20 or more. This least expensive one, about $15, was the one I purchased. He assured me it was easy to use.

Our old L.L. Bean center strap had on one end a metal piece similar to a buckle through which you slid the other end and pulled until it was tight. To loosen it, you just pinched the metal piece. That was what we gave the kids.

We tried the new ratchet straps numerous times inside at the kitchen table. After while I figured out how to tighten the ratchet. Dolores figured out how to loosen it again. Great, a team.

So on the day before canoe-launch day, we slid the canoe onto Miss Kitty Yaris. Just to be safe before tightening the ratchet strap around the canoe, I tightened it again and still couldn't get it loose. Nor could Dolores.

The 14-foot Old Town strapped onto Miss Kitty and waiting for the next attempt to get her into the water. Milt Gross photo.

We were so glad we tested the ratchet before tightening it around the canoe and onto the car. Had we not, we may have had a permanent canoe appendix to Miss Kitty.

I mumbled, used some good religious language, and fooled with it off and on all day that Saturday. I even thought of buying some clothes line to tie around the center of the canoe for that trip only. I didn't because I knew it wouldn't tie tight enough.

On Sunday, we removed the canoe from the car.

I went to the phone and ordered a new L.L. Bean canoe carrier, similar to our old one but with two center straps instead of one. It came within two days.

Week two: goal, get the canoe strapped on, head for the lake, and go canoeing.

We met two-thirds of the goal. The new canoe carrier fastened easily. We struck out for Lake St. George's public launch area on a hot Sunday afternoon.

The launch area was so mobbed, we didn't loosen any straps. Instead we drove to a small pond we had visited before.

The launch area at the small pond was empty this hot Sunday afternoon. Of course, it was too late by this time to actually go canoeing, so we looked at a rural house we'd seen advertised for sale. We couldn't afford it, but house-and-camp looking at makes a great hobby.

The launch area with lilies and weeds where we apparently tangled the electric motor's propeller blades at the very beginning of our pond adventure. Milt Gross photo.

Monday we took the canoe off Miss Kitty.

Two practice runs.

Goal for week three: put the canoe in the pond and go for a spin, propelled by our new used electric canoe motor.

Saturday we loaded the canoe onto the car for the third time, strapped it down, and waited for Sunday.

Sunday we headed for the small pond.** We arrived to find several other couples already there, who had canoes. A man helped us unload the canoe. Dolores helped me carry the battery down to the canoe, once it was in the water.

I fastened the electric motor, which it turned out was in a position too far forward so the steering handle kept poking my back. I remembered that the last time we'd used the motor I had reminded myself to move it farther back so it wouldn't poke me in the back. But I forgot. Once out there, there was no adjusting where the motor clung to the gunnel unless tipping over were part of the plan. It wasn't.

A few lilies graced the stream that served as launch area and pathway to the lake. I turned the motor to forward and off we went -- very slowly. Before the motor had run smoothly and powerfully. This day it thumped and didn't want to steer. As we made our way, partly by paddle since the motor seemed awfully weak and unresponsive. I looked down into the water at the propeller blades.

They were tangled in stems and leaves.

We thumped along until we found someone's dock to which Dolores clung while I raised the motor part way and then used my walking stick to free the blades. This worked and after that the electric motor worked fine.

Note to self: don't ever go canoeing without your walking stick.

A friend later e-mailed me to comment that he hoped we had had paddles with us, as walking sticks don't paddle well. We had had them, and I told him so.

Similar to last year's venture on Megunticook, the motor bounced off of one rock. Later I discovered a little keel-like structure on the bottom of the hard plastic motor casing, which explained why it was able to bounce so easily off this year's rock as well as last year's.

We relaxed on the open water in a refreshing breeze of five to ten miles per hour. The little motor easily took that breeze in stride and did the same with a couple of boat wakes we encountered. Although I've been canoeing since I was ten years of youth, sitting back, letting that quiet electric motor do the driving was great.

A view of the pond in a refreshing breeze while being pushed easily along with our electric canoe motor. Milt Gross photo.

Three boats passed us. Two of the operators waved at us. The third boat operator didn't, but the dog in the boat barked a greeting. I had not paid much attention to dogs in canoes except to make sure we didn't have one with us, since one of our labs had fallen overboard years ago while leaning hard on one gunnel to convince herself that a white buoy was a white bird. Labs are bird dogs, not buoy dogs. It had been somewhat difficult for three of us to balance the canoe and pull her back into the canoe.

After we landed again, paddling this time through the area where the lilies hung out, a man -- a canoer -- help us carry the canoe and load it onto Miss Kitty Yaris. Then we strapped her down.

First we had lugged the 50-pound battery and motor up and placed them into the trunk. Note to potential electric-motor users: don't drop the battery in your trunk if your car is rusty. Unless your plan is to leave the battery resting on the ground below where the trunk was before the battery went through it. Miss Kitty's trunk was not rusty.

After we got home, we began to make our next canoeing trip plans. Of course, this wasn't until the next day after we had unloaded the canoe onto the back lawn.

As we contemplated our next adventure, we kept seeing in our imaginations that camp we can't afford. If we only had the $180,000 under our mattress, we could just buy the camp and let the canoe stay there and wait for us.

We looked at each other across the kitchen table, and began to count the times each canoeing venture required loading, unloading, loading, and unloading the canoe. That many -- for each venture. Would keep us in shape and tired.

We're planning perhaps one more series of loading, unloading, loading, and unloading again for this summer at the same pond. Next time we can cruise along in that pleasant breeze after not getting lilies tangles in the propeller.

But we're also planning an overnight at an inn in Camden. Which makes us remember that there are several schooners in Camden Harbor that take tourists on one-or two-hour cruises.

No loading, unloading, loading, and unloading the schooner.

That may well be our next non-canoeing venture.

* That gesture of generosity also eliminated some confusion for Big Guy, our 14-year-old Tabby who for years took naps in the sun atop upside down AB's hull. Now he had to choose between AB and the new fiberglass 14-footer. Such confusion. Giving the kids AB took care of that difficulty. When you're a 14-year-old kitty, things need to be kept simple for such decisions as, let's see, should I stay awake or take a nap. Not, oh geez, on which canoe should I take that nap if I decide to take a cat nap.

** Notice that I haven't identified the pond, which practice comes from my being a fisherman years ago and knowing fishermen now. This is "our pond," and we're looking at a camp on "our pond" that we can't afford. Maybe after we're there, we'll invite you to stop by and hold onto our dock while you untangle the weeds from your propeller.

Milt Gross can be reached for corrections, harassment, or other purposes at lesstraveledway@midmaine.com.

Milton M. Gross Copyright 2011