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.

Spring Fever

Its been a busy month. Spring has sprung here in the Pacific Northwest! Its all the way up to 44 degrees, and raining. Maybe I got spoiled during my fabulous spring break visit to Erwin, Tn, and Baltimore, Md. Flowers in full bloom, sunny and 75 degrees. It was an excellent trip. 

Ok, I can't really complain: it was sunny and 65 all weekend as i frantically rigged, rerigged, derigged and re-rerigged the Widowmaker. These things take time, apparently. You may be thinking: "I've heard about all this rigging  before...". Turns out, a gaff rigged mainsail has extra lines I'm not used to, and a pesky 6 foot bowsprit adds an extra line to every jib, therefore, I had to add extra cleats and route all this line somewhere sensible. I mean, are YOU going to climb out to the end of a whacking great long bouncy stick to untie a knot so you can pull a piece of canvas the size of a barn door back into the boat? Me neither. This means you have to tie a line to the tip of the sail to fish it back in. I did, however, during one of our test runs shimmy out to the tip of the boat to untie the "hankie" (a handkerchief sized jib producing little speed, but much stability). Of course, we were headed right for the bank, and Wayne-o had to tack the boat. I had to slide between the jib and the main. It was graceless and tangled, riddled with spitting and cursing, but finally effective.

Pictures? What pictures. I have no photos of all this nonsense, as i left my camera on the beach while we were launching this boat on Friday.

 Its a Whitehall rowing skiff. It was the "water taxi" of the 19'th century. I was responsible for painting it. Again and again and again. We painted it three times as various critics didn't like the color, or the gloss, or the semigloss, or the matte...you name it. Then we scored the perfect coat, and dropped it in the gravel. Best day EVER. After sanding and filling for 3 more days, we got a final paint job that looked great. We stuck it in the water while trying not to drag it on the beach, and then abut 34 people rowed it around and pulled it back up to the dock. Miraculously, not a scratch.
I was very pleased.

Getting our bearings. Turns out, you actually have to move the silly long sticks in UNISON. Who knew?

I got to sit in back and scream "row!" at Jack and Greg. Ok. Not really. I just went for the ride. Turns out, some very kind person put my camera on a t-shirt my pal left on the beach, and he brought my camera back to me. Hence the uploading of these pics.

Monday, we had a whiskey plank party. Yes. We do that a whole bunch.

This is the Grandy skiff. Its the rowing version, while the other shop is making the sailing version. I built the keel assembly, transom, and installed a few planks. My pal Eric made the stem assembly and installed some planks. We figure if we work on frames and furniture inside, we can claim about 75 percent of a boat. Pretty good experience, given class size and number of ongoing projects.

This is my current project. A mast for a Sid Skiff. The Sid Skiff is a boat that ninja Ray drew plans for. Its a beautiful boat, and Commander Wiggleberry and i may build one one day when we actually have a steady job. Hmm. I'm a dirtbag, and likely to remain one for some time to come. So much for a Sid skiff.

Also, in case you want to make a round tapered stick really round, you'll need one of these. It would also be good to have a bottle of ibuprofen, preferably the maximum strength kind, and maybe strong masochistic tendencies. If not, at least a good dose of self-loathing.

Yep. That's a plywood handle screwed to a belt sander belt. Oh yeah. I love sanding by hand. Maybe sometime next spring it will be round. Still beats working for a living! Wait...I'm paying to do this...

The Widowmaker Rises Again!

She's back. After 2 months of consistent and diligent weekend sanding, scraping, filling, varnishing, and painting, toxic chemical sniffing, scone eating and coffee drinking...the Widowmaker has risen again!

Up goes the main!

Today we rigged her up with her "working sails," meaning enough sail area to get a couple of yahoos wet, but hopefully not drown them. Wayne-o figures if we can get around the harbor a few times and come home dry, then maybe we can add the square'sl, the flying jib, and the top'sl. I said, "It doesn't even have to be a jackyard top'sl. We could just add a top'mst to the main". The scoffing pretty much determined that you gotta go big, or go home. So we have to make a few more yards and dig up the old jackyard top'sl to do it up right when the time comes. It pretty much takes a 3 armed acrobat to set correctly, and requires 3 hands in the boat to sail it. Also, anything over about 5 knots of wind, and you're swimming home...but its stunningly beautiful. What could go wrong?

Note ladder precariously leaning against 3" diameter mast. its only 16' off the ground. I asked Wayn-o if this was maybe a little precarious. He said, "Naw, I balance like a cat..." He was climbing rigs when i was cruising around the yard on my Big Wheel, so I guess this is pretty small potatoes compared to striking the foret'galln't on a tall ship in a blow.

This jib is absolutely ridiculous. There is so much tension on the bowsprit, that it bends like mad. I'm pretty sure we're going to rip the hardware out of the deck with this thing. Its almost bigger than the main, just shaped differently. We added a heavier bobstay fitting this morning before we turned her over and put her on the trailer. Probably a good thing.

Here she is, downrigged and stowed, all tucked in for a 2 week nap. Then, after spring break, we launch her. Hopefully, the water in the harbor will be warmer by then...

Varnish

I'm apparently a varnish addict. I have suspected it for a while, but Thursday's volunteer experience confirms it. I opted to go sand and varnish Adventuress's deck house (the new one that replaced the ratty one i am living in) rather than go to class. This problem generally arises in march and subsides by the time i have put 9 coats on everything i own, and apparently a coat or two on things i don't own. (It was tough at first, but the dogs and cat are used to it now.) I have been putting a coat on the widowmaker's spars at lunch, as i was able to hang them from the rafters in the heated shop next door. Its amazing. It actually DRIES. I put a coat of thinned 50/50 varnish/thinner on the gaff outside the other day, and it took it 3 days to sort of dry. No wonder Port Hadlock was voted Varnish Capital of the World. It dries so fast! Not.

Adventuress's new deck house was built by one of our instructors years ago. It was very handy to be able to go straight back to school and tell him how much all those fancy inset panels sucked to sand and varnish.

Speaking of things that sucked, check out the interior of the widowmaker's cuddy. I painted every square inch on Saturday, and it was a blast! It looks like it was applied with a water hose, but i got it all (including the bare plywood hiding in there) and didn't get any on my favorite hat. I had to lay on my back and paint above my head and still reach the paint tray. It must have looked like the boat was eating me. Only my sock feet were sticking out.

Here are a few more shots of the weekend's work. Not bad for a semi lazy rainy weekend of painting and the occasional coffee break.

Here is a sign i left on a piece of scrap plywood for Eric in case he showed up while i was gone. I thought it was pretty self explanatory.

We are planning to paint the bottom on Saturday, and possibly rig her up on Sunday. Pretty exciting stuff. I realized (not that I'm hyper obsessive) that i have worked on a boat of some flavor every day for the last 21 days at least. I'm actually very ready to stop working on them for a while, and instead, sit in this one in a mild breeze and watch the clouds go by. I'm looking forward to a very satisfying weekend of tooling swiftly around the bay in my fabulous resurrected toy. Very soon. Very soon indeed.





Virgin Plank

I have read about planks, dreamed about planks, feared leaky planks, dreaded sprung planks, scraped planks, painted planks, and ripped out old rotten planks. I finally got a chance to spile, steam, and hang a plank. Friday was a very salty day for me.

First, you take a spiling batten (an 1/8" thick piece of plywood) and lay it out as a template where the plank will be. "Spiling" is just a fancy, boaty term for "marking". Then, you mark the location of the back rabbet, as well as the outside edge of your plank (as previously laid out on the molds). Now you write down the bevels at the rabbet at all your station lines. Some are under bevels, and some are standing bevels. You are bewildered at this point, as this makes no sense. This is because you made minor errors when cutting your rabbet. Not to worry; you will bevel (continuously, of course) your plank edge to accommodate these angles you just recorded.

Virgin batten



Spiling marks at stem

Next, pick someone who doesn't suck, and have them swing your bandsaw table as you run your expensive cedar plank thru the saw. Now, build a fort around your steam box because its blowing 45 knts outside. Use a wheelbarrow and a piece of sheet steel if you are Yoda. This rig reminds me of Tennessee. It even has duct tape on it. Light her up. Beware the "woof". It is propane after all, and will likely explode in your face. Use a 4 foot rolled up piece of newspaper.

Now, while you're waiting to build up some steam, you have to plane the "wow" out of your plank, and bevel it according to your spiling batten. This only takes about an hour. (20 minutes for steam, and 40 to screw around with your board). Stick her in the steam box, wait 20 minutes (one hour per inch of plank thickness), and pull her out. FAST. You only have 4 minutes to clamp the plank in place before it cools and won't bend.

180 degrees in the steam box, and Yoda has no gloves on. I look like a weenus. Now, hang and clamp her on the molds.

Notice who is driving on the sharp end where the bend is greatest. Its apparently easy when the Force is with you.

And there she is, hanging in all her steamy splendor. When we got it clamped, i didn't even have enough sense to know whether or not it fit well. Turns out i was supposed to leave half an inch on the bottom edge for wiggle room if she didn't fit right.

OOPS. I apparently missed the memo on that one, and cut exactly to the line. I got lucky. The bottom edge split the pencil line marked for it on each mold, and the hood ends (curved end at stem) were only about 1/16" off. Ray laughed and said, "That's some Tennessee luck there, buddy! It doesn't get any better than that."

Turns out the plank fit exactly right. I told Ray I'd rather be lucky as good any day.









Bondo

It's amazing how much bondo stinks. Truly amazing. I sanded it all day today, (after scraping off the half a quart that didn't cure correctly) and never smelled it at all, as i was wisely using my respirator. Then i got in the car to go get a coffee, and couldn't figure out what the horrible chemical stench was. Then i realized that everyone at Starbucks was standing farther away from me in line than usual. I then had a mental flash forward to me exploding while starting a fire in the woodstove. I'm sure i was laced with enough fumes to be flammable. I caught a mild buzz driving back while listening to "99 red balloons" by Nina.

Maybe I'll just start wearing Bondo aftershave whenever i need a little personal space, or a little pick me up. But only in the summer.

Got all of the outside of the boat sanded, bondo'd, and sanded again. Tomorrow, sanding inside, and priming the topsides.

I "washed" my hair in my kitchen sink as it was very thick and matted with Bondo dust. Now its kind of dry and crunchy, kind of like when you comb out Mousse. (Does anyone still use that stuff, or did that stop with Duran Duran?) Maybe I'll start a line of Bondo hair and body products. Perfumes, skin desiccants, hair stiffeners and the like. I'm sure they'll sell like hotcakes.

I think I'm still high. I'm going to stop now.