ELY – Maxine Christopher, producer of the award-winning documentary “Wood on Water,” visited Ely this week to tell the story of how she came to document 12 young women on a grueling 40-day canoe expedition through the Canadian wilderness.
The film, which follows nine teenage girls, two guides, and film director Hannah Maia on a trip with Camp Keewaydin in 2019, has screened at film festivals across North America and now has a permanent home in the Canadian Canoe Museum collection. But Christopher’s path to producing the documentary began years earlier in a rental car with her daughter, who had just returned from the historic camp.
“She grabbed her trash as we got out of the car,” Christopher said. “I was like, oh my gosh. It was remarkable to not be the one saying, ‘Why don’t you take your trash?’”
That small moment of transformation, along with watching her Colorado-raised daughter stomp through a puddle instead of carefully avoiding it, sparked Christopher’s curiosity about what her children were experiencing at Keewaydin, one of North America’s oldest operating summer camps, established in 1893.
When her daughter suggested Christopher join the camp’s adult women’s canoe trip, she agreed, despite a background in Colorado’s dry, high-altitude wilderness that left her unprepared for the reality of northern Ontario’s waterways.
“I’m a Coloradoan, whose main principle and mission is to keep your feet dry,” Christopher said. “This was very far from those dry feet days.”
The two-week adult trip proved intense and character-building in ways Christopher hadn’t anticipated. Participants portaged traditional wood-canvas canoes weighing up to 100 pounds when wet, using tumplines, which are leather straps worn across the forehead to distribute weight down the back. They carried 35-pound wannigans (traditional wooden boxes for food and equipment), chopped wood for every meal, and cooked everything from scratch over open fires.
“I came away and told my friends in Colorado, ‘I’ve already got my character built. I don’t need to go out for two weeks and build more character like that,’” Christopher said with a laugh. “I’m 40.”
But the experience gave her profound insight into what her children had accomplished on their own 40-day expeditions. Watching them paddle back to camp at “end season,” the ceremonial return of long-trip campers, she understood for the first time the depth of what they had endured and achieved together.
“I knew what they had done, and they’d done together, and how imperfect everyone was, and yet they were so cohesive,” Christopher said. “I get shivers.”
That homecoming ritual proved pivotal in Christopher’s decision to make a film. As returning paddlers approach the island, they call out a ritualized chant, which the assembled community echoes back to welcome them. The island remains silent as the young people expertly unload and rack their canoes. Then everyone erupts in celebration.
“It’s so tribal,” Christopher said. “Our young people have gone out for this experience, and they’re announcing their return.”
Shortly after, Christopher attended a film festival in her hometown of Carbondale, Colo., where director Hannah Maia’s short film “My Big White Thighs and Me” won an award. Christopher immediately thought, “She could tell the story of these women.”
“I emailed her, and we literally started working on it the day after she responded,” Christopher said. “I always thought it’s so interesting. I didn’t go out intending to produce a film. I wanted her to make this film.”
The partnership between Christopher (handling funding and logistics) and Maia (directing and filming) proved crucial. Christopher secured sponsorships and ran a successful Kickstarter campaign that raised over $32,000. Maia flew from England multiple times to attend canoe symposiums, build connections, and eventually spend 40 days on the water filming in summer 2019.
Bruce Ingersoll, then camp director in his final summer at Keewaydin, became the third essential partner, navigating the complex logistics of embedding a documentary crew in a traditional wilderness program.
The pandemic derailed plans for a 2020 national tour, but the film found its audience through festival screenings and online platforms. Last year, the Canadian Canoe Museum reached out to include an edited clip in their permanent collection.
Christopher sees parallels between the film’s journey and the expedition it documents. Both required patience, community support, and the ability to appreciate the view even when carrying heavy loads.
She compared the film to an inukshuk, the carefully stacked stone markers used for navigation in the Arctic, hoping it points the way for others to discover the transformative power of wilderness experience.
The metaphor feels especially resonant in Ely, where Christopher said the paddling culture embraces innovations that would have made her own Keewaydin trip more comfortable: canoes so light you can throw them, padded portage yokes, cushioned barrel seats, and full-body bug nets.
“I think I would like this culture,” she said with a smile.