Junk

Our Friendship sloop, while less than twenty years old, is a sister ship to a 1903 design by Wilbur Morse. Moreover, she was rigged using the original specifications of her much older sister. Thus, we do not run to modern conveniences; like a winch. In consequence, there are coils and coils of running rigging- that, eventually, wears out.
         Worn out rope, sometimes collectively referred to as “junk” (my understanding is that the technical definition of “Junk”  only applies to short pieces of worn out rope, however, usage changes, and sometimes it is worth making the nit-pickers crazy), has been recycled for about as long as rope has existed. I for one cannot throw out a worn out halyard or sheet. The stage of its life where it can be used to haul a mighty load is over. Yet it also is just at this point that the line has become soft to the touch and the rigid memory that all new line possesses has been largely stretched out of it. While lacking strength, it is a delight to handle, and there is an undeniable itch to do something with it.
         Fortunately, for the possessor of such a wonderful windfall, there is a long list of useful projects to make out of junk. Woven fenders, mats, and padding for blocks come immediately to mind. When we took on the stewardship of our Friendship sloop several of the deck blocks and the areas of deck surrounding the pad-eyes for those blocks, had taken a beating. Both blocks and deck needed restoration. Additionally we did not want this problem to reoccur, so I wove mats for the mutual protection of deck and block. This solved the problem, it looks great, and the material was free.

         There is a danger that this application of a traditional nautical craft can spill over into decorative work that is un-necessary, and in moderation, that is fine. I am guilty of this in several spots; look at this handgrip in the head of out boat.

The coach whipping and Turk’s-heads are certainly not necessary, but they add something to an otherwise Spartan head. There is also some value, perhaps intangible, to the pleasant, foggy, Saturday afternoon that I spent making this grip. Quiet, contemplative work that is, in itself a source of joy. There is also a danger here that one can get so addicted to the pleasures of turning used up line into projects that one’s boat or home can begin to look like one of those seafood restaurants that dress themselves in bogus nautical kitsch. However, there ought to be a balance between that unfortunate extreme, and the modern streamlined Clorox bottle that too many people associate with boating.
         It is easy to overlook the functional side of fancy rope work. For example, the Turk’s-head is still quite common in a decorative capacity, but it is also a fantastic binder knot. I have a small hollow fid that I use continually. Unfortunately, the attachment of the handle to the shaft was never really that sound, additionally as the rivet in the handle continually worked loose, it dug into my hand. I am just too cheap to replace a twenty-dollar tool that should have outlasted me. My solution was to re-rivet the handle and then drive a Turk’s head up over the rivet. When coated with several coats of varnish, the fix is comfortable to my hand, beautiful, lasting, and incredibly strong.    

         Fenders, or fender covers lend themselves particularly well to the use of junk. The soft, well-worn, line is kind to wooden painted surfaces, even when under a great deal of compression. Our tender came with a pathetic plastic strip pop-riveted to exterior with a tiny piece of new polypropylene line set into it for a fender. I could see this was going to be detrimental to our topsides, so, out came the plastic, and in went a piece of well-worn 1 ¼” manila that I had been saving for just such a purpose.  Despite novice rowers, our topsides have faired well ever since.
         My goal with this site is not to write a lot of how to articles but rather to champion creativity, particularly as an alternative to consumerism. If you are interested in the how to of just about any kind of rope work you cannot stray far wrong by picking up a copy of the Ashley Book of Knots by Clifford W. Ashley.  While it may not be something you want to keep on board (especially if you have a small boat the size of this tome will throw out your trim) it is a fantastic book, part history, part how-to, and a remarkable reference. There are more and more resources on line as well I just noticed this piece on the making of a bow fender for example at Intheboatshed.net.    
         If one ever needed and excuse to engage in fancy knots, or fancy rope-work, then worn out running rigging is it.

WoodenBoat

I wanted to thank writer Eric Sorensen for his nice plug of this site in the most recent issue of WoodenBoat magazine. I was particularly flattered to be mentioned in WoodenBoat as it is a magazine that has brought me a lot of enjoyment over the years. We have a framed cover of one issue hanging below in our friendship sloop that happens to show our boat being built. It is a pretty neat in and of itself, but since the cover photo is by marine photographer Benjamin Mendlowitz, it is particularly cool.

          Eric has his own boat blog, From the Dock, and made mention of several other boat blogs that are worth checking out. Two that I have added to my blogroll are Chine blog, and In the Boatshed, check them out if you get a chance.

Passamaquoddy Bay and Cruising

           As, over a decade, I got to know Passamaquoddy Bay through multiple kayak trips, I also made friends in the area, and this region of Atlantic Canada now feels like a second home. When we bought the Friendship Sloop, we started sailing to these waters, and spent four summers exploring areas that I had not been able to reach by Kayak.

           Whenever we could, we would invite new friends and locals out for a sail. It was not only a lot of fun, but we gained a lot of local knowledge as well. I wrote down most of what we learned in the ships log. Some of what I wrote down in those logs are observations too general to be of much use to someone else. I noted at one point, for example, that having a five-year old whose nickname is “Crash” on board is a bad idea. However, there is also a lot of good information regarding local navigation that others might benefit from. I am also prone to make little charts in our logbook, which, though not a substitute for actual charts, might prove interesting to other sailors.
           I have put up a new “Cruising Grounds” page with more information for sailors. Right now, it only has information about the Passamaquoddy Bay area. Over time, I will add notes and observations taken from my logbooks about other areas in Maine coastal waters, and “Down East” in particular. The “Cruising Grounds” page is not a cruising guide, just some notes of interest about a couple of anchorages and a few cautionary notes intended to be of interest for sailors headed into these waters, or to virtual cruisers.

Snow: A creative medium

I have always loved working in snow. However, as a child, I was never content with the formulaic snowman built with three snowballs. Igloos, elaborate snow forts, one that even had a spiral staircase leading up to a battlement, graced our yard. When I was leading winter climbing trips I spent many winter evenings in a snow shelter or igloo rather than endure the flapping and cold of camping in a tent. I used to make my own snow saws out of quarter inch aluminum; some were quite elaborate like the samurai snow saw in the background of this photo.
           As just one example of what can be done with snow as a creative medium I offer the Triumphal Arch.

 

           Built in honor of the tenth anniversary of SOLO, we put it together over about five hours. It rained the following night, saturating the snow-structure, and then the temperature dropped. The resulting frozen arch could support the weight of some of the builders, as the photograph shows, and survived for the next several months.
           An extreme example of working with frozen elements as a creative medium is the ice hotel built each year in Sweden.
           I am not suggesting that the rest of us go to such lengths, but the next time you go out to build a snowman, try something a little more imaginative; like a stegosaurus.

SOLO has a new blog site. To check it out click here:SOLOADVENTURES

A Spiral Stair for the Tree House

Somehow, writing about making toys with my nephews and niece reminds me of making the spiral staircase for Peter’s tree house.
            There needed to be a means of getting from the main floor of the treehouse up to the chess loft (see chess sets). We decided the best route to go was some sort of spiral stair. We had found a white pine tree with unusual branch formations. Peter cut it down and dragged it out of the woods, it turns out this was quite an epic, but you can read about it in Peter’s book Treehouse Chronicles if you are interested. Peter had also cut down a large dying fir tree; come to think of it, there was a story behind cutting that tree down too. Anyway, we cut slabs out of the fir trunk and stripped the bark off the white pine; the latter was a particularly nasty job. The idea was to take the naturally upswept branches of the pine and use them as natural supports for the outer ends of the treads of the stair.

   

            In order to get this right we had to haul the now de-barked pine tree up into the tree house and locate it, a process that created a somewhat bizarre sight and nearly caused a car accident as passing drivers witnessed the hoisting of one tree up into another. Once in place we were able to rotate the trunk of what would become the stairway to take best advantage of the support branches that nature had provided. With trunk in place, we could concentrate on the final shaping of the treads. Peter had cut up the fir into slabs with a chain saw; we now finished these off with drawknife and plane. On the inner end of the tread, I cut a large dovetail, in the trunk I then cut a matching wedge shaped socket.

Finally, the upswept branch that was to be the support for the outer end of the tread was cut to the right height and the tread was driven into place with a mallet. The ends of the upswept branches were set into sockets drilled in the underside of the treads. The finished stair is strong, simple, and to use a phrase that Peter coined; has lots or “organic funkiness”.
            While I will admit to having a general concept in my mind for the spiral stair, we had to invent a lot of the process as we went along. I think that combination of imagination and invention is what reminds me so much of making toys.
            You can read more about the tree house by clicking on the treehouse category in the right hand column of the page.

Of Wooden Toys and Starships

I spent most of the school vacation week with my sister’s family and naturally, that meant making toys with my nephews and niece.
          Here are some of the toys we made. The boys in particular are “Star Wars” crazy, so, my older nephew and I made a “Tie fighter”.

    

My younger nephew and I made a “Jedi fighter”. I did most of the shaping on this one, and he did a lot of consulting. He did use the brace and bit to drill the hole for the R2D2 unit and he made the R2 out of a piece of ¾-inch dowel. He also came up with the idea for the canopy over the cockpit. (The X-wing on the left was made at Thanksgiving).

          My niece and I were making more figures and furnishings for her Gypsy Caravan. We made a new bear, Oliver, and a pet pig, Porky, for the little bear family.

          One of the great things about working with children is their ability to apply imagination to ordinary stuff. My six-year-old nephew found part of a wooden wheel I had cut up and said it looked like a canopy for the cockpit of his star fighter. When I looked at it, I saw he was right. My niece started sorting through the bags of wooden toy parts that I had brought- what were supposed to be headlights in different sizes she saw as wine cups and a lamp. Hubcaps became bowls and plates, and a large truck wheel became a round table. I had also brought some foam core to make an architectural model that I was working on for my sister and her husband. My oldest nephew instantly seized leftover scraps from the model. He then went on to transformed these same scraps into an elaborate and theatrical set for the ubiquitous star-wars/lego figures he collects. I wonder if Steven Spielberg got started this way.
               

Boat Patting

I was talking with a friend from the Friendship Sloop Society the other night on the phone, and even though it is March here in New England, the conversation quickly turned to an enthusiastic discussion of  the work we are each starting on our respective boats in order to be ready for next season.
        In a culture where “maintenance free” has become something of a modern mantra, this can be difficult for some people to grasp. Whenever sailors gather, some part of the conversation will focus on skills other than sailing. The design, layout, and rig of any vessel is an intensely personal statement to begin with, thinking about the constant adjustment to the rig, slight modifications, and improvements, is part of the mindset of the sailor. Acquiring any skills that give one the independence to work on, and better understand one’s own vessel, becomes second nature.
        For me preparing for the upcoming season provides almost as much enjoyment as the actual season. In a sense, it is just another form of creative daydreaming; what projects it would be cool to get to, how great it would be to take care of this or that problem, but the best part is that it is still too cold out to do much. Someone even came up with a name for this phase of the year: “Boat-patting season”. All over the coasts people are appearing at boat yards, marinas, and storage facilities, lifting a tarp here, crawling over a covered deck there, quite often muttering or even openly talking to themselves about what they need to do this year. Finally, when they have gotten cold enough, the hull gets a last affectionate pat and the sailor heads back to some place warm. 
        If you are lucky, you have a heated shop somewhere that is too small to drag any really big or nasty project into, but large enough to putter in. Puttering is a big part of boat patting season. Puttering is the opportunity to get creative about addressing little problems, stuff you never have time for during the sailing season. I think what is so satisfying about this process is that it is often those little niggling problems, not important in themselves, that are the most fun to fix. It is so satisfying to eliminate a squeak, or get a hatch to slide smoothly, and best of all, the real deadlines are still months away.
        Yes, boat-patting season is here, and I for one, am enjoying it.

New leathers on these shrouds were the direct result of puttering.