Sheer Joy? Sheer Clamps, Anyway

Finally, a day arrived in which we:

1.  Made no thickened epoxy; and
2.  Laid no fiberglass tape

Hurray!  But never fear - those days will return.  What we did instead was attach the first piece of the keel at the bow and glued the major piece of the starboard sheer clamp.  A sheer clamp is a piece of wood that runs along the hull where the decking will meet the hull.  It helps keep the hull's shape and reinforces the boat against bumps and the constant pull of the sail.

After we laid epoxy on the wood and the hull, Dad started the clamping.

LOTS of clamps needed, since we had to bend the wood along the curve of the hull

One piece down, and no more clamps so we must wait until the epoxy dries before starting on the port side.

Another Day in Epoxy Paradise

They say it's a wooden boat.  It is a wooden boat. But pound for pound, I think it will be mostly glue!  This is some of the inside work that got done over the last few months.

You see floor timbers and longitudinal pieces in the cockpit.  Floorboards will go down in the center, and the sides will be benches will storage compartments underneath.

This is in the cabin.  "Cabin" I should say, for reasons that are becoming increasingly obvious.  Remember when little Ralphie (the Simpsons) exclaimed, "I sleep in a drawer!"  It'll be like that.  And yes, there's a big box in the middle.  That's where the centerboard pulls up into.

A Boat Rolling Party (or, the siege of Minas Tirith)

There comes a time in the life of every boat to be ... when it ought to be right-side up.  And that time was today.  There are many complicated schemes for rolling boats.  There are winches and cranes; there are round rolling frames built latitudinally around the bulkheads; there are hoists and ropes and cradles; and there is plain old manpower.

As my father's comrades in the Lake Cavanaugh Volunteer Fire Department started to show up this morning, each arriving by boat or by truck, hopping out with spryness and grim determination, I couldn't help but recall the fortification of Minas Tirith before the armies of Mordor.  As I read of soldiers arriving from the outer parts of Gondor, and the hosts of the prince of Dol Amroth, I feel excitement building a growing confidence -- how could we not fail to withstand the hosts of Mordor?

But unlike the vast armies of Sauron, the boat flipping turned out to be much easier than anticipated.  Plans and strategies were conceived, eventualities analyzed, emergency materials for blocking the boat upright were on hand - but in the end, all it took was a bunch of strong guys and good directing.

And NOW, says my Dad, it's starting to look like a boat.  Many thanks go to the members of the LC Fire Department!

Debeautification

Another thing I've learned about building a boat is that things tend to get less pretty -- not more -- as time goes by.  Let me give you some examples:

1)  You gaze admiringly over 4x8 sheets of sleek, marine-grade mahogany plywood, then proceed to cut, scarf, epoxy and sand it into submission.

2) You cut out the pieces, fit them on the frame, and proceed to glue them together using enormous, unsightly lumps of a peanut-butter-like thickened epoxy.

3)  You sand the hull until smooth and beautiful, layer on neat epoxy until the surface shines, then you sand the holy hell out of it.  And adding insult to injury, you then add dark brown-colored thickened epoxy in some places to smooth things out.

4)  Finally, the whole thing is sanded.  Epoxied.  Sanded.  Epoxied.  Sanded.  Faired.  Sanded.  Sheathed with fiberglass.  Epoxied.  Sanded.  Epoxied.  Faired.  Sanded.  Then you add the primer until the whole thing is a very respectable-looking white.

Can you guess what happens next?

The damn thing isn't smooth enough in some places, so you sand it some more until it looks like ...

And that's what I call debeautification.

Primed and Pretty

When you think about the hours required to build a boat, it's hard to realize how far between those hours can become.  Here are some example reasons why you aren't going to get as much done as you think you're going to get done on a given day.

1.  It has to dry.  You have to wait for the epoxy or primer to dry.  With epoxy this can be several days in the PNW.  And when you discover you missed a spot and have to re-epoxy it?  Yup.  Another couple days. :)

2.  You have to read the book.  Wait - what were we supposed to do after this?  Oh, it wasn't in the book.  No, it was in the little, disorganized, online addendum... better spend some time reviewing!

3.  You didn't order enough primer.  That takes 3 days to arrive.  Hope two coats is enough.

4.  You have to sand the epoxy before you can put another coat on (so it adheres).  But the sander broke.  Or... you used the last of the (correct) sandpaper.  Or...

5.  You have an inkling you read somewhere, at some point, that the boat needed a keel... when was that supposed to happen?  It wasn't in the book.  Hmm.  Maybe now would be a good time... :)

BUT, delays being as they are, the hull is now primed and ready for paint.  Yay!  But first, we're going to flip it over.  Just us a a few more burly firemen to help (my Dad is a volunteer firefighter).  Then starts the interior work!

Sheathing the Hull

You thought we forgot about the boat, didn't you?  But, after long (apparent) hiatus, progress is once again being made, in the form of sheathing the hull in fiberglass cloth.  Sometimes it seems like this is less a wooden boat and more an epoxy boat with some wood to hold the epoxy in place.

Some weekends over the past months were spent sanding, building and then installing a box for the centerboard (like a giant hole in the hull... I know), then epoxying the entire surface...

Above is the view from "down under" the centerboard box installed - where the centerboard can come up into the boat.

Of course, then you look at the outside of the boat and it just looks like a big hole in the hull.  Dad suggests that this "putting holes in our beautiful boat" might be a theme.  

And here's how the sheathing works:  we cut pieces of thin, deceptively strong cloth (known as "Dynel") and arranged them over the hull, then proceeded to drench them in epoxy and spend the next hour trying to smooth out all the wrinkles and get out all the air bubbles.  It can be tough, as the cloth doesn't follow the boat's curves without naturally folding and forming air bubbles.

It looks nicer in the end, doesn't it?  All shiny and smooth!