Canoe-sharing program, run out of a Hamilton backyard, brings people together in a world of distance

A bateau on wheels, and a shot at refuge in a time of isolation: that's the gist of a makeshift canoe-sharing program run out of a Beasley backyard.

In the past year, Matt Thompson has lent out his big, red, 17-feet-long canoe more than 30 times - and to just about anyone who's asked for it.

The initiative was born out of a half-baked idea at the outset of the COVID-19 pandemic, when people were confined to their homes and Thompson, a lover of community and connection, was without an outlet.

I realized we were looking at a time where people were going to be separated from each other, where there was going to be a lot of loss and grief," said Thompson.

So, the 39-year-old, sitting in his Elgin Street home, looked around and started thinking.

What do I have in my immediate proximity that I could put together and tell folks, Hey, things are going to be really tough for a while, but here's a way that you can spend time with people you care about and that's safe during a pandemic.'"

It was, of course, the canoe.

A post to Thompson's Instagram - asking if anyone would be interested in borrowing it - quickly garnered dozens of queries.

All of a sudden, the canoe was going out so often and with people I didn't even know," he said.

The sharing program is as simple and casual a process as it gets.

Interested parties send a direct message to Thompson through social media, pick a convenient time to pick up the canoe, take it to the waterfront and bring it back in a few hours.

Replete with wheels and the length of nearly three hockey sticks, it's easy to move and perfect for social distancing.

It's super accessible," said Michelle Diplock, who lives near Thompson and has walked the canoe down the Cannon Street bike lane three or four times since last summer.

That always starts a bunch of conversations," she adds, laughing, because people are not used to seeing a canoe. I love that part of it. You don't really just stop to talk to people on the street if you're just walking down, but when you've got a canoe, people want to say hi."

Diplock, 27, said the canoe has offered some much-needed respite in a time of worry and great uncertainty.

I use it with friends as a, like, Hey, I know you're having a rough week, but I know a guy with a canoe. Do you want to hang out and take it to the water?'" she said. It's a lot of fun and makes people super happy."

For Thompson, a self-dubbed average canoer," that strikes at the crux of the program: bringing people together, connecting with nature.

Typically, the imagery around a canoe is this thing that happens three or four hours away, and not everyone gets to access that," he said. But Lake Ontario is beautiful. Hamilton Harbour is beautiful. Cootes Paradise is beautiful. This city is beautiful. And that's where I'm really interested in staying and going, those spaces."

Does he worry the canoe might not make it home one day?

I believe in the people of Hamilton," a chuckling Thompson said. If the canoe's meant to disappear off into the wilderness, I'll get another one. But I'm willing to take that risk and gamble because this is something that matters to people."

Sebastian Bron is a Hamilton-based reporter at The Spectator. Reach him via email: sbron@thespec.com