Whatever floats your boat

A plywood sheet. Some two-inch boards. Poly and a Styrofoam sheet. Plus a plastic pipe, screws and duct tape.

From these materials, 10 boisterous teams build boats and oars in just over three hours for a truly endearing race: Wawanesa’s Pound, Pail and Paddle.

This July, two boats capsized. Just two! Sometimes, most do. Sometimes vessels don’t leave the start line.

Two hours southwest of Winnipeg, Wawanesa lies between a meander of the Souris River. Cliffs and hills further distinguish the townsite from its prairie milieu.

We enhanced our Saturday drive there with tasty latkes at Elm Creek’s Scotswood Links and, homeward, with fries and my cherry shake at Treherne’s L&J’s Drive Inn. In Wawanesa, we discovered GardenView Drive-In’s generous Flurries. This reminds me: is there still that Canada Food Guide?

Driving through town to watch the boat builders at Wawanesa’s Recreation Centre, Margie announced, “We should move here.”

I replied, “Away from family?”

She retorted, “Then how about fixing our kitchen floor? The fence? The eaves?”

I noted, “Wawanesa does look good!”

She concluded, “But we’d miss family.”

As participants turn imaginative designs into vessels that might actually float, they also work under pressure without using 2 x 2s on each other. With team names like “The Pickled Pirates,” “Ship-Faced” and “The Knotty Buoys,” a participant explained, “There are rules, but not solid rules,” including no more than six workers per site and no power saws. Cordless drills are welcome. Teams can add more screws and tape. A worker from Glenboro’s Country Road Towing and Glass told me, “We got seven more rolls of duct tape. Fifty bucks!” They produced a wholly duct-taped triangular wonder. Like they say, whatever floats your boat.

Many participants are first-timers. Most are locals. Jeff Friesen is an intermittent veteran with the Nautical Nonsense team. Their sleek canoe design reaped the benefit of experience.

I rooted for first-time entrants Valley Gurlz, based on their unusual box-like boat, pink kayak oars and a happy worker’s admission, “We’re only here for fun.”

Another worker teased, “Like to try it?”

I replied, “I’m just trying to be brave enough to watch.”

Two teams relied on poly to wrap their creations. A worker said, “’It’s kind of an open concept.” Another admitted, pointing to a neighbouring team, “We’re just trying to copy them.”

Teams then load their odd vessels onto flatbeds for the Pound, Pail and Paddle parade. Given the wonky watercraft, we suspected this would be the only time these boats would experience a float.

Seven emergency vehicles led the procession. Fires must wait. Children pedalling bicycles, a tractor and a team of horses followed. I realized that candies get thrown by the handful, but only at spectators with children. A nearby family of five came with baskets that quickly overflowed. For me: zilch. Discrimination. I should apply for a grant to research if this issue is systemic.

Finally, a float overflowing with jovial twenty-somethings hurled a green sack at me — but not of goodies. It was a water balloon. Luckily, I didn’t grab the explosive. It splattered at my feet. As compensation, they tossed two suckers — orange and grape. I swiftly scooted for them in case that family of five was watching. Someone on the float exclaimed, “Look at him!”

We soon headed for the race at Seddon’s Landing along the shallow Souris River. The race course is short so the throng of spectators see the whole contest. Awaiting the starting horn, children threw rocks into the river that became a competition for distance before upping the game by skipping stones. Looking at the water, another child asked his dad, “Are there alligators in there?”

Rules allow just two paddlers for each boat. Margie theorized, “To win, they should pick the smallest, lightest persons.”

I countered, “To win, they should pick the biggest, strongest persons.”

She replied, “Then, they’d sink for sure!”

Not being one to back down, I, um, insisted, “OK.”

At the halfway point the paddlers must exchange places. Jeff Friesen told me that he developed a finely-tuned “switch strategy” that requires one person to lie down.

In the elimination heats, no boats capsized. This surprised us because the tipsy vessels barely floated above water. Plus, the paddlers were sometimes, ahem, the biggest persons.

Eliminated team members nonetheless expressed joy. A paddler exclaimed, “But we’d have won for distance. We veered right, then left, then right….” And a member of the last-place Valley Gurlz enthused, “We didn’t sink!”

Onlookers expect boats to capsize. It’s a shore thing here. For their entertainment, Country Road Towing’s triangle tipped at the midway switch in the final round — what locals call “the last chance dance.” Then the Two-Headed Goats team capsized despite their vessel’s masterful carpentry. There’s no time for the “Pail” part of the event.

Not surprisingly, Jeff Friesen and Nautical Nonsense won. In addition to prize money for the bidder who “bought” the team in a Calcutta auction at Friday night’s social, they received $400. Racing is more for the fun, camaraderie, bragging rights and surefire entry into the Royal Canadian Navy.

Mark your calendars for July 18, 2026.

Better yet, how about duct-taping some plywood and poly?

gordmackintosh9@gmail.com