A Thousand Miles in the Rob Roy Canoe on Rivers and Lakes of EuropeMacGregor, John
History
A Thousand Miles in the Rob Roy Canoe on Rivers and Lakes of Europe
MacGregor, John
Canoes and canoeing -- Europe; Europe -- Description and travel; History -- Miscellanea; MacGregor, John, 1825-1892 -- Travel -- Europe
Much of the charm of next day's paddle on the lake consisted in its
perfect independence of all previous arrangements, and in the absence of
such thraldom as, "You must be here by ten o'clock;" or, "You have to
sleep there at night." So now, let the wind blow as it likes, I could
run before it, and breakfast at this village; or cross to that point to
bathe; or row round that bay, and lunch on the other side of the lake,
or anywhere else on the shore, or in the boat itself, as I pleased. I
felt as a dog must feel on his travels who has no luggage and no
collar, and has only one coat, which always fits him, and is always
getting new.
When quite sated with the water, I fixed on Horgen to stop at for a
rest, to the intense delight of all the Horgen boys. How they did jump
and caper about the canoe, and scream with the glee of young hearts
stirred by a new sight!
It was one of the great treats of this voyage to find it gave such hours
of pleasure to the juvenile population in each place. Along the vista of
my recollection as I think over the past days of this excursion, many
thousand childish faces brimming with happiness range their chubby or
not chubby cheeks.
These young friends were still more joyous when the boat was put into a
cart, and the driver got up beside it, and the captain of the canoe
began his hot walk behind.
A number of their mammas came out to smile on the performance, and some
asked to have a passage to England in the boat, to which there was the
stock reply, given day by day, "Not much room for the crinoline." Only
once was there the rejoinder, that the lady would willingly leave her
expansion at home; though on another occasion (and that in France, too)
they answered, "We poor folks don't wear crinoline."
In every group there were various forms of inquisitiveness about the
canoe. First, those who examined it without putting questions; and then
those who questioned about it without examining. Some lifted it to feel
the weight; others passed their hands along its smooth deck to feel the
polished cedar; others looked underneath to see if there was a keel, or
bent the rope to feel how flexible it was, or poised the paddle (when I
let them), and said, "How light!" and then more critical inquirers
measured the boat's dimensions, tapped its sides with their knuckles,
and looked wise; sketched its form, scrutinized its copper nails, or
gently touched the silken flag, with its frayed hem and colour fading
now; in all places this last item, as an object of interest, was always
the first exclaimed about by the lady portion of the crowd.
It is with such little but pleasant trivialities that a traveller's day
may be filled in this enchanting atmosphere where simply to exist, to
breathe, to gaze, and to listen, are enough to pass the sunny hours, if
not to engage the nobler powers of the mind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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