WHEN THE WATER BECKONS . . .
THERE'S ALWAYS A WAY

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Paddlesports

Rafting, kayaking and canoeing — known to water enthusiasts as paddlesports — are what Steve Olejnik of Rockford, Ill., is into. A few summers back he built his own 16-foot canoe from cedar.

"I'd thought about building my own cedar strip canoe for the last 20 years," says Olejnik. "To rent a canoe runs about $350 per week. For $600 or $700 and about 200 or 300 hours, I knew I could build a cedar strip canoe that would run $2,000 in any store."

Olejnik's background in carpentry was helpful, not to mention his summer vacation from his assistant principal position in a middle school.

"I prefer a solo canoe experience versus tandem so we needed another canoe," adds Olejnik, who canoes with his wife, Carmen. "But you don't have to have a boat and all the gear. There are outfitters in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area of Minnesota and elsewhere where you just show up and they supply everything."

Olejnik's store-bought canoe is lighter and therefore easier to portage — 41 pounds to the cedar's 53 pounds — even though it's 2 feet longer. The lightweight Sundowner is made from kevlar laid over a foam core. Kayaks can weigh as little as 34 pounds and fold up to carry-on luggage size. Weight matters when the person doing the portage has CMT, as Olejnik does.

At 53, Olejnik's "moderately severe" stage of CMT hasn't slowed him down.

Steve Olejnik, Rockford, Ill.

"I've lost the use of my thumbs oppositionally," he says. "My thumb and index finger muscles are totally gone so I've had to adjust the way I handle tools, and tying fishing line is tough. But I can still handle the oars using my palms. I walk slower than before, especially when not wearing my leg braces. I no longer water-ski but I enjoy driving the ski boat when our kids ski.

"My biggest challenge isn't water sports, it's shirt buttons and cuff links."

Olejnik strongly recommends taking classes and testing your muscle strength before setting out in a canoe or kayak.

Steve Olejnik of Rockford, Ill., built this cedar strip canoe.

"There are outfitters that cater specifically to wilderness outdoor experiences and they offer classes. You'll learn to do a 'flip-float' and assisted recoveries — all the skills needed in basic water safety. I don't wear my leg braces when kayaking because I'm utilizing my arm and upper body strength.

"After the lessons, Carmen and I practice in a pool each time before we go out because, while I can retain the knowledge and skills of water sports, my muscles are always growing weaker. You also need to fully research any wilderness trip because you don't want to get into an area you can't get out of."

Over the years the Olejniks have selected easier portages, but they continue to camp and fish at least one week every year.

"With six kids, there is always someone who can compensate for what I'm no longer able to do — like get the canoes on and off the car's top," says Olejnik.

"We just adapt as a family."

"Our favorite place is the Quetico area of the Caribou Province Park, Ontario," he adds. "They only get about a thousand visitors each year. Everyone should experience the solitude, great sunsets, maybe catch a few fish, at least once. I stay active so I can get out and make sure each of our six kids has had an opportunity to experience the wilderness.

"I don't feel what I do is anything unusual," Olejnik admits. "If I had more spare time I'd be out canoeing a lot more. It's important to keep doing things today that I may not be able to do tomorrow."

Painting and Sailing

Nancy Gale. It sounds like the name of a fishing boat off a port in Maine.

Close. It's the fitting name of a free-spirited Groton, Conn., woman who received a diagnosis of CMT 30 years ago; a woman who grew up fishing, crabbing and clamming; an artist who spends her weekdays painting pictures of boats, which hang in nearby marina coffee shops while her weekends are spent sailing.

Nancy and Roy Gale often moor or anchor their 18-foot Herreshoff America catboat named Hornpout (after a type of catfish) because it separates them from the marina noise and night life of the nearby Long Island Sound.

Nancy and Roy Gale sail the waters of Long Island Sound in their catboat, Hornpout.

"On the mooring," says Gale, "the Hornpout can swing freely in the breeze. At night, when we are below deck in our bunks — in bed for all you day sailors — she gently rocks with the waves. It's quiet; no one walks by and there are no mosquitoes."

Sounds nice but how do you get to the boat, especially if you're a wheelchair user? "That's the best part," explains Gale. "Roy helps me get into our dinghy, the Babypout, and he rows us out to the mooring. Sometimes I get into the water with my life jacket on and splash around.

"From there, Roy tosses me and my manual wheelchair on deck. I crawl around mostly but I can sit comfortably on the centerboard, level with the cockpit, to operate the 'barn door' rudder. The tiller is removable, so when not in use it tucks away, allowing more room in the cockpit. Roy handles our only mainsail and we use a small outboard for motor assistance when necessary. The chair is just in case we sail to another port for dinner."

The Gales have been sailing, sometimes out for as long as 55 days, since 1994. Having grown up on the water, Gale can't imagine life without a boat.

"For years we had a motorboat and went out while our son grew up," says Gale. "Twenty-nine years later, not much has changed except now Roy helps me into our sailboat. We learned to adapt together."

Gale also fishes from her boat, using a normal baitcast reel. Flounder, pargies, fluke ... she's caught them all with only a minor adaptation. "I have the optional reel handle," she says, "which has more leverage and a larger knob."

There are other ways to get a wheelchair user onboard a boat.

Cecil Smith and his "first mate," wife Sue, were avid sailors on their 27-foot Tiara named Susie-Q from 1983 until Sue passed away in the spring of 1997 from complications of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

"I had a welder make a dolly that mounted to the side of our boat," explains Smith. "Using a 12-volt winch it would lift Sue, wearing a bosun's chair, out of her wheelchair and up over the side of the boat. From there I would swivel the davit [crane] inside and sit her right on the stern cushion." (A bosun's chair is a contraption sailors use when being lifted to the top of a mast.)

Living in Kentucky on the Ohio River, the Smiths had ample water access and, in fact, many of their trips included the entire lengths of the Cumberland, Tennessee and Ohio rivers, up to Mackinaw Island, Mich., and Ontario's North Channel.

"The davit worked well and enabled us to make several trips," says Smith, "including one 10-day trip up the Upper Mississippi River where we boated with friends in Minnesota. It was fine cruising and gourmet dining. At each new little town we'd tie up at their courtesy dock where I'd wheel Sue up the street to see the sights. I loved every minute of it and so did she!

"I only had the boat wet once last year," he adds. "It's surely not the same without Sue."

The Sea is Still Calling

"Can I imagine my life without sailing?" Nancy Gale wonders. "It's a very big part of our lives. When we're out sailing, feeling the spray of the saltwater coming over the bow, the wind in your face and the warm sun beating down... it's a new world comparable to nothing on land. In the early evening we sail east for about an hour or so and then we turn west and sail into the setting sun, watching the sun set until dusk.

"If a time comes when I have to give it up because I can't figure out a way to do it any longer, then I'll just have to find another exciting adventure to fill our lives," she adds. "But I'd never forget the wonderful times we had on the water. Maybe by then space travel will be available."