Sail Mockup

I fiddled around with things a little more last night. Again, none of this work is set is stone, but I did want to get a sense of scale, practicalities, et cetera, before doing this thing for real.

When I rigged the mast the day before, it seemed to me that the 6' horizontal yard was disproportionally short. So I decided to try an 8' horizontal, and it seems to be a little better ratio, height-to-width.

Just for ducks, I decided to loosely tie on the sail (a duck canvas tarp) to the yard before raising it, to just get an early sense of what we'd be looking at:

Obviously, things are not rigged properly, but it's enough to get a sense of things.

One thing I noticed is that this sail, even without being properly rigged, and without sheets to hold it taut against the wind, provides a very large surface area (48 square feet) that can catch the lightest breeze. I don't have the mast "stepped" into the deck, it's really just gravity and friction against the bottom of the boat that's holding this rig up. It was a very calm night last night, but one little gentle breeze came through the back yard (barely enough to ruffle leaves on the trees) and it blew the whole sail/mast rig over. I think when I get it rigged taut, with the thwart and the step set into the deck, it's going to be able to provide some pretty good thrust.

This mock-up also affirmed an issue that Mary originally raised a couple of weeks ago, when I was last musing about sail plans: I'm not going to be able to see where I am going.

I laughed her off at the time, but I'm starting to wonder if she might not have a point. Clearly, I'm going to have to periodically raise the sail (or part of the sail) to be able to see ahead. I'm also toying with the idea of moving the sail thwart back further towards the second rib, and putting Midshipman Henry in front of the mast to act as lookout.

Because I'm feeling like sharing, I'll let you in on my idea for the sail rigging, which is based on traditional methods, but with a slight modification.

In a traditional square rig (as I understand it), the sail is tied to the yard across the top, and then there are furling lines which run from the top of the mast to the bottom corners.So, when you pull down on these lines (1), the corners "furl" up diagonally towards the top center of the mast(2).
My idea, which I got while looking at our Roman shades in the office, is to have a second pair of blocks out at the ends of the yard, so that when the sheets are hoisted (1), the corner of the sail will raise straight up to the yard(2).
This way, I could pull on one or both of the lines, and get the sail to many different shapes and sizes, relatively easy. And, when I don't want the sail at all, I can pull them both all the way to 100%, hoisting the sail up to the yard and out of the way.

Anyway, that's the plan. The next step (possibly tonight) is to epoxy the inside of the boat and the spars (mast and yard), and then I'll be ready to rig the sail on Friday.

Big Day

It has been a very Boaty weekend. I won't lie to you (Thomas never lies!): I am tired.

After I (very generously, I thought) posted this morning about the boat triumph yesterday, I got the following message from the one person who had nagged me for the update (in case you haven't guessed, it's my mother, Mary).

I think if we did less partying would have had a more factual building report. Too limited in words. But it certainly is big. No pics of cutting bottom or attaching same. You get an f on report card

There's a wonderful book called "Ball Four", written by former Yankee pitcher Jim Bouton. It was the first tell-all sports autobiography, written at a time when even reporters traveling with the team would not print all of the (true) stories about the ballplayers' carousing, boozing, and carrying on. It was a club, and a very secretive one at that. Then Bouton wrote this book--exposing some really seedy underbelly of professional baseball--and was reviled by the baseball community. I don't think he ever worked in the MLB again. (He went on to invent Big League Chew (bubble gum packaged to look like chewing tobacco, in an effort to keep kids off of tobacco) and last I heard he had founded and was running the Vintage Base Ball Federation, an old-timey baseball league, playing by the rules of 1880. But I digress.)

In the book, he tells a story about Mickey Mantle, who asked the Yankee manager (maybe Leo Durocher?) if he could have the next day off. Durocher said sure, and Mickey hit the tiles that night. Stayed out all night drinking and partying, and finally made it back to his room around dawn. He spent most of the game huddled on the bench, trying to sleep, but as luck would have it, in the late innings, the Yankees were down by a run or two with men on base, and the manager needed Mantle to pinch hit. He staggered up into the bright sun, grabbed a bat, stumbled to the batters box, and hit the first pitch for a home run. He trotted the bases, and collapsed back on the bench, right next to Bouton. According to the story, Mantle leaned forward and peered at the screaming fans with bloodshot eyes and said, "They have no idea how hard that was."

That is how I feel about this morning's post.

I will try to make amends now.

Yesterday's job was pretty straightforward, as I had predicted the day before: I traced the boat outline on the plywood "bottom" (leaving a little around the edge just in case) and then cut it out with my circular saw. I flipped the boat frame upside-down, drilled holes through the bottom into the ribs, and then applied woodglue to the bottom of all of the ribs and the sides. I laid the bottom back on, screwed it down, and piled with rocks. (Uncle John calls this the 'glue and stack' method of boat-building.)

Then I mixed the fillet (epoxy + sawdust), and lined all of the seams with it.

Then I went to the block party, talked to Mr Hall (the one person there I knew), who mixed me several Dark and Stormys (rum, lime juice, and ginger beer -- a very nautical drink). After that, I don't remember much.

So, this morning, after the Jeeves pick-me-up, I went out to trim the excess around the bottom.

As is my way, I did this by hand: using the manual hand (that's redundant) saw. This was very exhausting work, cutting at a tough angle, and underneath the sharp-edged rub rail. I barked the back of my hand into this edge frequently and hard enough that it was spewing blood at every cut. You can see some on the side of the boat in this picture of the saw:
After getting as much as I could cut, I sanded down the rest with the sanding attachment on my drill. This was tiring and very saw-dusty work. Photo by Henry
But at the end of that sanding, I truly did feel like I had made a BOAT.

I then began the priddying process. I sanded out much of the mess from the inside filleting job yesterday.

I also sanded the sharp corner/edges off of the ribs and rub rails (should probably have done that before trying to saw the edge of the bottom) so they're more user-friendly.

Sanding doesn't sound like hard work, but the oak of the rub rails especially was exhausting, time consuming work. And it was well over 90 degrees today, and much of the day I was in the sun. It was brutal out there.

I also sanded down the edges of the stringers on the side of the boat. They are made of three-layer plywood, and when you sand down, you go through one layer of wood, and then the (dark) wood glue, and then another layer of wood, and then the glue, and then the third layer of wood. A neat side-effect of this is that the dark glue lines make a neat pattern on the side stringers. I think this looks very cool:
At this point, it was an inch deep in sawdust, especially the corners and edges and joints. So I decided to hose the whole thing off to clean it up in preparation for fiberglassing. (Somewhat ironic, as I had been so paranoid about the wood getting wet for the last month.)
It was while I was letting it dry that I read the afore-mentioned e-mail from Mary, giving me an F. I decided to call her, and in the course of conversation, she (rightly) pointed out that it would be a very bad idea to fiberglass the boat after rinsing it. Now, I hadn't SOAKED it. I just gave it a quick jet with water to get the sawdust out. And, as I said, it was a VERY hot day here today.

But still and all, it wouldn't do to mess up the fiberglassing after having come this far. Plus, it was about 2:30, and I still had to mow the lawn and do some other things around the house (like lay on the couch and watch the Blackhawks game. Go Hawks!) So I called it a day.

I also scrubbed my special, 3am idea from last week. As I've decided not to proceed, I'll tell you what it was: I found some very thin (1/8 inch) oak wall paneling (a 4'x8' sheet). Like bead-board, with 2-inch "planks" (divided by, you know, those little indentations in bead board.) I had planned to cut apart all of these individual 2-inch boards and attach them, overlapping, on the sidewalls, to make a faux "clinker boat".
While I still think it's a clever idea, it would add some unnecessary weight to the boat, and given that I still have to design and add a sail rig, I don't think I should be adding unnecessary weight.

In addition, I really LOVE the look of the wood with the fillet epoxy on it. The baltic birch is a very, very white wood. Even staining it, I didn't think it would take on a very interesting color. But after seeing it dried on the inside of the boat, I'm excited. I'll do a little test on the bottom of the boat, but my plan now is to just add a small amount of the sawdust to the coat of epoxy, giving it that nice rich brown color. I think it will be very nice.

Progress Continues

I think I made good progress today. I met my stated goals (see here), and I sanded down one side of the messy fiberglassing of the bottom butt joint and the two sideboards, and re-glassed each with a new, clean layer. Fred had sent me a follow-up to his earlier e-mail, and advised me to slice open the "hinged" joint with a razor blade and fill it with the sawdust/epoxy mixture. This I did.

I took a couple of pictures of the fiberglassing process. First, here's the roll of fiberglass itself:As you can see, it's very pliant - it's very much like regular fabric.

Here's the epoxy/hardender mixture:
And here's me, actually fiberglassing:Photo by Henry
That's me working on the sheet that will ultimately be the bottom of the boat.

I have the bottom sheet set across four sawhorses, which I made perfectly level using my iLevel app on my iPhone. On top of that I set the two sideboards, side-by-side. I then put a two foot 2x4 lengthwise across the stacked seams, and weighted it down with big rocks from the garden bed, to make sure the joints are as flat as possible. Because it's spring in Chicagoland, I have covered the entire works with plastic against the rain. This is what it looks like (illuminated by the lights strung across our backyard to make it festive):

Hm. That didn't come out so well. I'll try another picture in the light tomorrow.

Henry has his first-ever baseball game tomorrow evening, so I'll get back to the boat on Tuesday, after work.
The plan then is to essentially repeat today's steps: I'll flip over the two sideboards and the bottom piece and sand down the messy layer and re-glass with a "pretty" layer. Actually, I may just do the two sideboards on Tuesday. To get the bottom piece flipped, I'd have to take the sideboards off and put them on the ground, and I'd be afraid of breaking the new glass I just put on today. So the plan is on Tuesday to flip over the sideboards and glass the other sides of those seams. That way, by next weekend, they should be set and done and cured. The next step in construction is to secure the sideboards to the fore and aft stems, so I can do that Saturday and at that time flip over the bottom piece and re-do that glass. That's a better plan.

While I was writing this, I got an e-mail from my mother (Mary).
I told you previously about my Uncle John (Mary's big, strapping brother who was in the Navy and could (and did) carry entire refrigerators on his back) and how my helping him to refurbish a power boat when I was a kid gave me a fondness for brass screws on boats. Mary's other brother, Tom, was less big and less strapping but a magnificent human being nonetheless. Evidently he, as a young priest, built a sailboat with some of his young priest friends. I was reminded of this recently, as I am now building a boat. This is background for my latest (and more supportive) e-mail from my mother. (You may recall her last e-mail could possibly have used a little more optimism.

Today, however, she is flowing with the milk of human kindness:

I read all postings on boat. Frankly I am at a loss with terminology. It all sounds so complicated and difficult. I think I have pics of u toms boat building. Will show when out here or maybe send if I can find. But I don’t think epoxy was available then so wood is just wood. But thought you might appreciate the task you (one person) took on when you see the army of men doing same. Job. I admire you talents and determination.

(emphasis added)
It's true, wood was just wood, but he had God on his side.
Uncle Tom's Particular Friend

And, because this post isn't long enough, I have one more thing to add. If you've been reading this log with the proper attention to detail, you may recall that last Sunday I cleaned my basement workbench. In one of my old toolboxes, I found some very old pictures, including a few remaining prints from a disposable panoramic camera I bought while on the SF Opera Tour in . . . the fall of 1997? (Among these pictures is a classic of my particular friend Fred with a look of abject horror as he stepped on the singer bus for the first time ever for a trip to the Grand Canyon. I will save him the embarrassment of posting it.) But on the same trip, Fred took what is probably my favorite picture ever of me (it's right up there with the cow picture, Fredye) sitting at the edge of the Grand Canyon.

I lost the original print of this more than 10 years ago, and have long bemoaned my loss. But last week I found the negatives (a hyperlink for anyone younger than me who has no memory of how pictures used to be taken.) Today I picked up the copy of the print, which I now share with you (you can click on the picture to see a larger version):
Tom, sitting with his feet hanging over the edge of the Grand Canyon,
circa 1997
Photo by Fred

A Mother's Love

Got this loving note of support from my mother, in response to this blog:

I found tale to be most entertaining but I am worried—are you really going to build a boat??? And what do you know about boats. Although vocabulary is impressive..you sound like a sea dog. Forget boat impossible to do.

So sweet!