If i had a quarter....

...for every time i had to make something because i couldn't find what i needed in the shop, i'd be rich.

Today we committed a felony in the shop and used a quarter for a washer because our ribband wouldn't lay down, and we couldn't find one even close to the right size to fit our needs. George was happy to help.

This is a carvel planked Davis Boat. Its a 13 foot motor launch...well, actually, its 12 feet. Because it accidentally got lofted 12 inches too short. We thought "Gandalf Sasoon" (a dude with stylish, well coiffed wizard hair) might blow a gasket when we had to tell him he and his cohort had made a simple, yet colossal error. This was discovered AFTER the keel was made--about a 3 week process. Anyhow, in carvel construction, you make molds the same as with lapstrake, but you use long skinny battens called "ribbands" to support the frames when you bend them in. Then, when you plank, the boards fit tight (hopefully) together instead of lapping over each other. Later, you remove the ribbands and molds, and are left with a swanky new boat hull.

Here are some pictures from a recent small craft gathering at the Maritime Center: the Pocket Yacht Palooza. OK. I didn't name it. I just hung out and took some pictures. There were many great boats, and a talk by a wingnut who rounded CAPE HORN in a sailing CANOE. Long, crazy story. 95 not winds, 10 days in a tent going bonkers, etc. Really nice, humble guy. He has recently been working with the government of Micronesia to develop the world's first "world park" to protect millions of acres of ocean from overfishing by...you guessed it, China.

We ended the day with a little sail on a 25' Atkin Cutter. The office manager at school needed crew, and we were happy to oblige. It was built by the school, and was the perfect example of all the boat details we have been seeing on the chalkboard every morning for 8 months. It was pretty great to actually understand how to make all those pieces.

Oh. I failed to mention that I'm headed home at the end of June. I am going to volunteer at the maritime museum on the Eastern Shore of Maryland in order to get repair and restoration experience. Its pretty much a rotten old historic wooden boat playground for dirtbags like me and my friends. Hopefully, if funding is in order, i will then become a paid Shipwright's Apprentice.
Either way, i'd rather work for free than pay $80 a day to scrape and poke some other dude's shitty old boat. the $4k  i won't be paying for my last quarter will buy a sweet bandsaw and lots of blades for my micro shop i'm planning to put together in a storage unit in balty.

However--don't be alarmed. I may keep writing about my boat related exploits after i leave school. I still have to fix my boat in my brother's yard, live on it during a Baltimore winter, and take Wiggleberry across the bay in a gale, to see if he really is a Salty Sea Dog. I also have to convince Sarah of the necessity of our new Sid skiff, (plans by Secret Ninja Ray Speck,)lofting and construction provided in part by my pal, Eric, east coast storage unit style.

I'm sure there will be much to write about.

Landfall

Today the Widowmaker made her first proper landfall since her Resurrection: Waterfront Pizza, Port Townsend, Washington. 

Christine, Eric, Greg and I set out at an insanely low tide, certain that we would do more punting than sailing, at least until we got around Skunk Island and into Hadlock Harbor proper. It was like Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom in the resulting tide pool. There were sea stars (the artists previously known as starfish), anemones, crabs, and lots of little fishes. The starfish looked like day glow orange hubcaps. They were freakin' huge.

We poked our way out, set sail, and crabbed our way against the rising tide, and directly into the eye of the wind. Fortunately, Capn. Jacobsen (Christine) is a "wind whisperer". She can find the eye of the wind (the only direction you can't sail in) and point our nose right into it every time. Uncanny. At about 3 knots of wind the Widowmaker will barely sail forward; she goes about 3 feet forward and 2 feet sideways, with almost no steerage way. The "F$%#-off" jib pulls the bow around so far you have to spill its wind to stay headed in the right direction. A "F%$#-off" sail is one so gigantic it tells all the other sails to F-off. This is apparently standard Tall ship parlance. Christine has worked on various tall ships for several years, and is in charge of salty lingo and steering us away from snowball hitches, and directly into the wind.

Pretty quickly, we realized forward with oars was better than sideways with sails.

That's Port Townsend in the background. Its about 6 miles away from Port Hadlock Marina, our home port. This was taken about 30 minutes before we had to row for our lives to not be run down by a ferry. Tide and wind was against us, and we had to pass in front of the ferry terminal. But the boat seemed sooooo far away. It was haulin ass at about 20 knots, and we were draggin ass at about 1 knot. It was not too close, but close enough. I know the driver hates people like us.

Landfall! We strolled up and ordered a few pizzas, (Eric's nickname used to be TC--for Trash Can--he'll eat anything and lots of it). While we were gone, our rudder escaped and nearly floated away. Ahh. that's why there was a pin to attach it to the boat...

I got tired of getting up to keep the boat from floating away with the rising tide, so i tied it to my leg. Worked like a charm. See the mast slinking out of view, pull on the rope. Take a bite. What, me worry?

We tanked up, got sleepy, and headed home. It was a rocky start with some fouled lines in raising sail, as well as another boat bearing down on us, but we got underway and had a lovely run home in 3 knots of wind.

Greg did a fine job of running us wing on wing much of the way back. We almost made it back without jibing. When we got home, it was high tide, and it had raised 11 feet. It was nuts. No more pretty sea stars, but no more getting the dagger board stuck in the mud either.

We tucked the widowmaker in for the night, and planned for fabulous voyages ahead. Next time: Elevated Ice Cream.