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Some folks called it crazy. Others called it brilliant. Most just looked at me with blank stares, as if I were a three-headed monster from Pluto. Which, of course, made the whole build project worth it. The design phase of the canoe trailer actually goes back a few years, when I started thinking about the new Mesabi Trail in northern Minnesota, and how cool it would be to bike to the BWCA for a 100% human-powered vacation. But I lacked two things: a canoe of my own, and any sort of mechanical ability whatsoever. So, fast forward a little. I acquired a Wenonah solo canoe, a few tools, and a garage in which to hammer things together; like a beer-guzzling caveman who has just discovered a potentially practical use for a sturdy rock. Not many successful contraptions came out of my garage, but I did learn some valuable lessons like: nail + hammer = two pieces of something become one piece of something. NOW we're on the high road. After spending a few hours in the local hardware store, walking around with an unorganized collection of napkin scribbles and bad ideas, I went home with $75 worth of parts and supplies, and went to work. E-mail me if you want a complete parts list, but in the following sections, I will outline some important areas requiring further R&D. The whole idea is simple though, and requires only two major components: a dolly for the canoe to sit on, and a device which connects the front of the canoe to the bicycle. Easy enough, right? |
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The dolly portion is merely four pieces of 2x4 stock screwed together to form a sort of square, beneath which runs a 5/8" threaded rod which serves as the axle. I used conduit hangers to secure the axle to the dolly frame, but there were shimmy issues, i.e. the axle would slide from left to right as I traveled. On the first test ride, I solved this problem by cannibalizing wallet flaps to make a set of shims. It works, but you can see where this is headed - ghetto rigging is not a substitute for quality. Another problem arose that was incidental to the use of a threaded rod for the axle. As I rode, the cap bolt that held one wheel on tightened on its own, while the other continually worked itself loose. On the first out-of-town test ride, I lost this bolt on a gravel road, causing a 45-minute delay so full of curse words, it would have made I.C.P. lyrics look at home in a preschool classroom. After some searching, I found the bolt 1/4 mile behind me, and I used a plastic bag and a lighter to MacGuyver a bolt-retention device. I stopped every mile to check on its status, and it seemed to hold up well. Another major issue is my use of small wheelbarrow wheels on the dolly. They provide only minimal ground clearance, and even if I balance the load in the canoe towards the rear, there comes the nightmarish sound of Royalex on roadway every time I hit a bump or cross a gravel intersection hump. For the initial tests, I bungee-strapped a piece of foam to the bow of the canoe to protect it from abrasion, but larger wheels would eliminate this issue altogether - and permit the use of rutted, off-road trails instead of only established roadways. The other issue is the hitch. I'm not even going to go into my hitch design, because it's still wallowing through the R&D department, one painful step at a time. I will post details as progress is made, but don't hold your breath. For you quick-build types, though, I know of a guy who uses rope to lash his canoe to his bike, and it works good enough for him. So far, though, I couldn't be happier with my new device. It's ugly, but it has a future. On the last road test, after riding 30 miles on soft gravel in mid-summer heat, and then paddling 8 miles upriver to get back to town, I caught a glimpse of that future... and it's going to be sweet. |
Copyright 2006 Brian Hartley. All rights reserved.