By Stephanie Gregory

Paddling a canoe requires an almost Zen-like ability to sit for long periods of time and repeat the same shoulder-strengthening motion. Learning to steer and paddle simultaneously and in sync with your partner may require zigzagging down the lake for the first couple of days, but the motion eventually becomes so natural that you can shift your attention to worthier pursuits, like spotting moose chomping lily pads along the shoreline.

Can You Handle It?
Unless you head out in gale-force winds on a blustery November day in, say, Manitoba, the most strenuous part of canoeing is not paddling. By far the hardest part is portaging. For the uninitiated, that means carrying your canoe and all your gear from one body of water to the next. For an idea of where portaging rates on the pain meter, imagine balancing the equivalent of a 65-pound backpack--an awkward, unwieldy one that bumps off rocks and gets caught in thick foliage--on your shoulders. But like all masochistic pursuits, few feelings match the relief of splashing your boat back in the water after an especially murderous trek.

Essential Skills
Everyone can learn how to paddle, but not everyone can learn to paddle well. The J-stroke, the single most utilitarian stroke in a canoe paddler's repertoire, requires a subtle flick of the wrist at exactly the right paddle position--a feat tough to execute in a headwind, high waves, or a strong current. Luckily, in an emergency, dragging your paddle like a rudder has the same effect, though it's more energy-sapping and inefficient. After you get the J down, you'll want to learn the C, an easier stroke that moves the boat in the opposite direction of the J. Your guide can give you pointers, but, in a dry run of sorts, practice the stroke standing on a beach. Watch the way your wrist and arm moves the blade of the paddle.

Gear Up
Besides paddles, personal flotation devices, and the canoe itself, the most important piece of canoeing gear is a watertight pack. Especially designed for canoeing are industrial-strength green canvas Duluth Packs, which are lined with bombproof plastic shells. Other essentials include two pairs of shoes--one to get wet, one to keep dry--a brimmed sun hat, quick-drying pants, a long-sleeved shirt, bug spray, and a bear rope (to hang your food, not the bear).

Speak the Language
Portage: Can be used both as a noun and a verb. A portage is any obstruction between you and the next body of water. To portage (pronounced as a Minnesotan would say it, not a Parisian) is to empty your canoe of its contents, hoist the barge onto your shoulders, and carry it until you reach your destination or drop from exhaustion--whichever comes first.

"Bridge me": Usually exclaimed in conjunction with foul language midway through a portage, while gasping for air under an overturned canoe and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. It means, "Please brace the front end of the canoe so I can get out from underneath it before I die."

Rod: An archaic, albeit still common, mode of measuring the length of portages. One rod equals 16.5 feet, approximately the length of one canoe.

Gunwale: Nautical lingo for the upper edge of either side of the canoe.

"Gunwale up": What guides shout when they want to dole out Snickers bars or give directions in the middle of the water. It means to get together, side-by-side, with the other boats in your party--close enough to reach anything being passed or to hear instruction.

Stephanie Gregory is a freelance writer and Outside magazine correspondent based in Minneapolis. She worked as a canoe guide in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness for three years.