Bulkhead 3

Things have been progressing more slowly than I want, but this is due to several extenuating life factors. First, my work takes me on the road for days at a time, and then Im home for a few days where I need to cram in my errands, my personal life, exercise, sleep, etc. To boot, the weather has been fantastic, and I cant justify being in the basement. SOOooooo, during my last time home, I was only able to frame BH3, which is very straight forward because there are no curves. Im back on the road again, and will be for a while.

Once the winter rolls around with its bad weather, this boat is ON.

Transom

The transom is ready for gluing. I spent mucho time preparing the top frame last night, I cut it wide with the jigsaw and then sanded it down to match the ply, so this took quite a while. I was being cautious. Everything fits nice and tight and perfect. I am pleased with the result of taking my time with this important element.


AND THEN

I screwed up. I was cutting out the hole for the tiller. I carefully plotted everything out, carefully cut everything out, sanded smooth and inspected for variations. Along the top cut, I noticed I had ever-so-gently strayed "north" and my top cut was not as true as my bottom cut. "NO PROBLEMO" I muttered, whilst grabbing the jigsaw firing it up. "Ill just trim it straight out easy peasey! The fact that maybe the power tool wasnt the best idea didnt cross my mind and I proceeded to venture boldly north now, as opposed to gently stray. goddammit. Now the radius of the corner doesnt match the width of the hole, the top cut is wobbly and not even parallel anymore, and Im super scared to keep cutting to get it straight, because even with a jig clamped down for the jigsaw, I wasnt getting a straight cut. So Im leaving my wobbly, diagonal, cut as a two part lesson: a: SLOW DOWN. b: Its OK to screw up. Im owning up to it, and Im walking away from my almost-but-not-quite perfect transom.



Tomorrow, I will do the first gluing, and stay tuned for some exciting new boat developments!

Jewell Island Redux 2013!

WING AND WING as we blow through Cocktail Cove on an evening stroll through the neighborhood.

AHOY MATEYS!

Holy SHAMOLEY I finally did some camping on the new SeaPearl21, SCOUT that I purchased in a drowsy fit of self-imposed moping over my stagnating professional career back in April.  Sometimes, being a cry-baby pays dividends.  In this case, I have secured a long mean fast camping machine that just CHEWS up the water like a hungry waterborne horse striving forward to see what comes around the next island!

Its been a few years since VisionQuest/ManQuest2010, (here, here, and here) and I thought that maybe a good introduction camping trip in Maine this year would be to march back to Jewell Island and spend a few days puttering around and shaking out the bugs.  Jewell is far enough out to offer wildness, while busy enough to provide support if needed, and Cliff Island with ICE CREAM is nearby!   There are multiple campsites, with beaches, coves, and of course, underwater obstacles just waiting to stove a plank or two.

Lt. Presto and I came out of South Portland with its fabulous municipal ramp, and moseyed our way out to Jewell in light winds.  They were so light, I fired up the Iron Mizzen (evil but awesome) and positioned Scout in a way where she benefited from rising offshore winds, and we just started moving!  We were parallel with something that looked suspiciously like a Compac 23 (not sure), and it was no contest.  Sorry Compac 23.  With steady winds we blew into the Punchbowl beach skimming over the outer rock wall with 8" of water at high speed (YES shallow DRAFT!) and impressing all onlookers with our prowess... or stupidity.  First camping trip, and Im already pushing the boat.

Red: Sailing Day 1
Black: Using the evil, yet nice, Iron Mizzen
Orange: Sailing home Day 3.

(Small Day 2 trips not shown)

Enjoy!

Inbound to Jewell 

Beached out.  Lt. Prestos tent is set up at the high tide line.  He snores.

Lt. Presto and the emptied out cove on the NE beach.  Note 150 haul-out for Scout.

Tides coming back in.  Rock wall on right was sailed over at high speed!

Evening is setting up nicely.  WHAT A BOAT!

Lt. Presto enjoying the Punchbowl is it fills in.  (Beach and boat behind us)

As my intrepid readers will remember, my camping style mandates chaos.

High class, honest.

Note Scout quietly at rest on her haul-out.

The most amazing thing to have whilst camping on islands.  Espresso maker for one.

Tied up at the dock on Cliff to get ice cream.  Ferry from Portland is in.  

Lt. Presto navigating Scout to safe harbor!

Captain Callsign just slaying it!

Portland almost to Seguin Island and back

Not my picture, not my boat

Before we get started on some SeaPearl 21 adventuring in Casco Bay, I want to point out Dave-in-NJs blog about his Goatee Goat Island Skiff "Chivita" and some pretty damn epic sailing he did around New York Harbor.  Its somewhat of a departure from my Goat perched on a wild island in Down East Maine, but it is just as epic, if not more for the sheer stupendousness of that mother of all cities, New York City, and her crazy harbor.  Please see this post in particular.  If your heart doesnt get thumping, you must not like Goat Island Skiffs, and I question why you are here in the first place.

Dave, you go man.  You go.  Impressive.

***

Now for the main feature:

In which SeaPearl Scout and I sail around Casco Bay, meet a squall, and get boarded by fictitious pirates.

Red = Day 1, Yellow = Day 2.  Black = Iron Mizzen usage

I headed out of South Portland recently and met up with a Pearson 30 as she sailed north along the Maine coast, destination Brooklin and WoodenBoat.  I planned to be along for a day, maybe two.  The first nights destination was either going to be Damirscove Island or Seguin, depending on distance travelled.  I thought I could probably make Seguin via Half-Way Rock, but Damirscove was probably out for me due to the distance and my energy level.

The weather was fine, with a remote chance of thunderstorms, and calm winds gave way to a beautiful stiff breeze of the kind that you can only really find on salt water.

Scout moved along smoothly and with efficiency. I pushed her hard which means I pushed myself hard, and gave myself little time to eat, drink, pee, or enjoy the sailing, as I was intent on keeping up with the Pearson 30 (which I did, but jeez... enjoy the ride already, right?)

Blowing out to Half-Way Rock with nice water and a good breeze!

Pearson 30 

 After I had passed Half-Way Rock (no pictures, sorry, but lots of seals!) it started to become blatantly obvious that the slight chance of thunderstorms was going to probably become a very real chance.  In the deeps of my ears I imagined I could hear low-frequency rumbling, even though the sky still looked somewhat innocuous.  Soon however, it was apparent that we were in for a blow.

Trouble brewing

 I cracked down to make as much mileage as I could towards Small Point/Cape Small not in a vain attempt to outrun the storm, but to get closer to the shore so that if things went bad, I wouldnt be miles out to sea.

Behind me, the wall of bruised green and black advanced, with thunder filling the air.  It was on.  My buds in the Pearson 30 became insignificant by contrast.  I hoved-to and started preparations.

Trouble is creeping up on the Pearson 30! Run guys, run!

Battened down.  Small Point in the distance behind me.  Trouble is on its way!

We tied Scout up and towed her behind the Pearson 30, which was actually a mistake.  When the squall hit she sailed on her own, and the skipper had to stay ahead of her.  It would have been far more desirable to hunker down in Scout and ride out the storm with her as it would have been significantly less nerve wracking.  Lesson learned.  When the storm passed the crew of the Pearson decided to make for Damirscove, and I broke off and headed towards Harpswell to a small island on the Maine Island Trail.

The Squall over, I take my leave of the Pearson 30 and sail out of the dark and into the sun.  This was a good feeling.

Wet, but pleased with this particular outcome

 I reached the island after navigating around and over several treacherous reefs (again, yes! 6" draft!) and found that there were few good access points.  I was somewhat chuffed at the description of this particular island as I was lulled into thinking Id have a good beach, but with a stable west breeze, Scout was held perfectly in a small cove with a flat bottom so she could bottom out at low tide.  Exhausted after approx 22 miles of sailing, I ate some rice and crashed in my tent on shore.

Nestled in for the night... or is she?

My view in the morning.  Peaceful.  I am happy!

 I awoke the next morning to *BANG CRASH BANG* and the first thoughts in my tent was:

1. Raccoons are searching for tasty food morsels and ripping things apart

2. Crazy hobo person who probably lives on island is ransacking my boat

3. Pirates (this one bad)

With little fanfare (Im pretty sure I was naked) I went running out of the tent down to the shore and around the corner, where I found Scout slightly south of her original position and bottomed out on a now not-so-flat bottom, her bow pointing skyward, and my booms sliding down to the stern of the boat.  No pirates, but a sorry sight!

It looked steeper in real life.   

When you are waiting for a tide to fix your sorry boat, you might as well make coffee.

 When the tide came back up and floated Scout into position, we hauled back for Portland.  Southbound, I had some of the finest sailing I can recount this year, making significant mileage against the tide with a steady breeze.  There was much hollering and hooting and, as with IAZ,P, lobstermen waved cheerfully as we passed.

Booming home.  

 The wind really picked up and we reefed down continuously as the day progressed, finally putting in at Fort Gorges in Portland Harbor where we waited for the wind to calm a bit so pulling the boat out of the water wouldnt be as dramatic.  Scout happily sat in the small harbor while I read my WoodenBoat and napped on the beach.  This is summer.  This is happy.

Wooden Boatbuilding in Castro Chiloe Chile!

Well, the Boot brothers have been doing a lot of walking, together of course, you’ll rarely find them apart from each other.  I went along with them, it keeps them out of trouble you know.

We’ve been exploring part of Chiloe Island just off the coast south of Puerto Montt which is well south of Valparaiso, one of the more southerly of the major ports here in Chile.

We took the ferry over, perhaps a 30 minute ride on a drive on drive off ferry which was an amazingly slick operation. There were at least a dozen of these ferries working when we were crossing, they carry around 30 vehicles each and  operate across a straight where the tidal streams run at ( guessing here, but not exaggerating) up to 8 knots.  This means that they’re going sideways as much as forwards, and the skippers know where all the major eddies are and work them just the same as a white water canoeist does.

On our travels on Chiloe we found a couple of boatyards and stopped with the camera. No problem with walking around in there, the “boatyard” where these pics were taken is the bank between the road and the waters edge, no more than about 20 metres wide, some very simple roofs on poles, and a few truckloads of roughsawn lumber in stacks.

There are repairs going on, and several new builds, I took pics of the biggest, and one of several small boats in frame, and you’d be amazed at how rough, and how basic these are. “Lofting”? All by eye!

Fitting? Axe and adze, and absolutely no more than just enough to get two pieces of wood close enough to get a bolt through. Those bolts? Hardware store mild steel hot galvanised, no fancy stuff here.

This is how the old square riggers were built, no frills, and way cheaper than the current way of building replicas. The fastest and cheapest path to the water, built under a very simple roof on poles with a monster bandsaw and a thickness planer being the only power tools,  axes and sledgehammers being the preferred tools and muscle being the main prime mover.

Have a look!

This little ship in build is about 20 ft long, shes partly planked, the frames are bent in using two temporary ribbands between the keel and the gunwale on each side, shes fastened with galvanised nails bent over on the inside. Some of the material appears to have been salvaged from older boats, and that monster piece of wood in the foreground is a stem removed from a much larger boat which has been demolished and saved for another build.

 About 70 ft by 18, the stem is more than a foot square, shes of much the same shape  and style as the boats weve seen everywhere along this coast.  Raked stem, very full at deck level, fine on the waterline and strong sheerline.

 Another view under the roof. There is a second ship in, shes been stripped out, engine and shaft removed and is being reframed. There are new garboards and some more plank replacements in the forefoot area, those planks being about 1 1/2inches thick, and as with all the others fastened with galvanised mild steel nails.

 Wed stopped to see what was happening in Ancud, the town at the northern end of Chiloe island  and down by the waterfront came across a maritime museum.  Sadly it was closed but this was visible through the fence.  Ive no idea as to what or why but shed be 80 ft, and I suspect typical of a type which would have serviced the coastline in this area. Shes a big heavy lump of a ship, cargo carried in a midship hold and on deck, shes no cruise liner but has a certain elegance.
Shed be built in very much the same manner as the ones in the boatyard and the bow end of her is much the same shape and style as the big motor fishing vessels, just the stern being straightened and squared off to cope with the higher speeds given by the big diesel engine.

Mast glued up rudder and daggerboard glassing

Ok, another frustrating boatbuilding day here in New Hampshire.

The mast got glued up today in a long session.  It takes a deceptively large amount of glue.

First, I laid down the mast ladder frame, with the two sides to be glued next to it.  I primed the wood to be glue with unthickened epoxy, and then made up the thick stuff.  Application of the glue went along the base plug, narrow staves, and ladder framework.  Afterwards, I picked up the ladder section and placed it upside down on the wide stave.  The other side of the ladder was then glued up and the wide stave dropped onto that, making a sandwich.  Mr. Storer recommends a clamp every foot.  I only have 9 clamps that can be used on the mast.  Mr. Storer advises his customers to use packing tape... use a clamp, wrap the mast with packing tape to hold the pressure, move on.  This method has been used by other Goat Island Skiff builders, successfully.  It kind of worked for me, but not to the degree I would have liked, the clamps hold more pressure.  Regardless, better than nothing, and with some careful maneuvering I was able to make sure that all gaps were closed up.

It took longer than I thought, and a lot more glue than I thought.  There were a few areas where I really had to force the staves into position, and this was a pain.  For some reason I dont have any real overlap in the lower half part of the mast or I could have used nails to hold it in place.  I used my muscles instead, and clamped them down, and hoped for the best.  In  a few locations theres an overlap on one side and an underlap on another... not much, about 1mm, but I see it, and it pisses me off.  I should be building to tighter tolerances by now.  I dont know if its impatience to get this done with, or its a level of meticulousness that drives me batty.

Off to check the bottom runners, shall we?

Oh look, gaps!

 In my quest to use less glue (I keep throwing out tons of squeezed out glue) I went with what I thought was a moderate amount of glue... but it obviously wasnt enough.  These are, surprisingly, my worst scarfs on this boat yet.  This is not the end of the world, I can force some glue in there, they are not necessarily under pressure (that would compromise the scarf) and they will fully glued onto the hull.  So this is not the end of the world.

This is:

My daggerboard.  What a mess.  I was so concentrated and focused on making sure I got it smooth around the end of the board, I didnt really care what happened along the edges of the glass.  I figured I could sand it smooth later.  Now, Im realizing I really screwed myself up the wazoo.  This clean up job without going through the soft wood of the board is going to murder my day tomorrow.  UGH.