Games and Toys

I have not written about wooden toys in a while and have not written about chess or other games in a really long time so I thought I would write about some of the games that live at the Wheelhouse.

            First, another chess set. My brother found a cool ceramics place out in New Mexico where he lives, where you can come into the shop and can pick out ceramic pieces that are already bisque fired; paint them with supplies provided by the shop. The shop then fires your pieces for you and gives you a call when they are ready. My brother saw these chess pieces and thought it would make a great project. He painted the chess pieces and went home and made a neat chess board/table that he gave to me for the Celtic Wheelhouse. He went further, put a backgammon board on the reverse side of the board/table, and made the interior into storage space for the pieces. It is such a great gift and a clever project.

            Next, is a Viking game I picked up many years ago in York while on a trip to England and Scotland. The game is a modern version, the pieces made of plastic, based on actual wood and or ivory pieces excavated at York. The game was popular in medieval Europe before chess was widely known. Sometimes called Hnefatafl, it is becoming popular again. The only problem with the game is that the box it came in fell apart and I was afraid of losing the pieces. My solution was to make a cedar box that looked like it might have been a made by the original players of Hnefatafl.

  

            Hounds and Jackals is a game that was popular in ancient Egyptian times. I saw an original in the Metropolitan Museum in New York made of ivory. I made a sketch in the museum of the board, counted the number of pieces and holes, and then when I went home I made a version out of wood. I was teaching history of ancient civilizations at the time to ninth graders and when it was time to cover Egypt, I used to give them the copy of the game and ask them to look at it as an artifact. I was often amazed at how many correct deductions those ninth graders drew about the civilization that created the game based only what was in front of them. The other interesting observation I have, is that even though the game does not have any directions, kids in particular seem to have no difficulty figuring out how to play it. The only adaptation I have made is to substitute stick dice for the original knucklebone dice in the museum.

 

            I should say that I am not much of a board game person myself, but I really love having these games out for visitors to play with, and get great pleasure out of watching others play with these various games from other periods in human history.

Restoring Decks

The decks of our Friendship Sloop are fir, and are in good shape. The debate we have been having for the last six years has been over how they should be finished. There are total wooden boat purists who would not finish a fir deck at all but would just let the deck age and pay the seams with hot pitch. Of course, those same purists would probably holy stone the decks as well. Our sloop is not that kind of boat. Although the design dates from 1903, the actual boat was built in 1988-1989 for the, then, Commodore of the NYYC. In other words, her bloodlines may be those of a workboat, but she was built as a yacht. When we bought the boat, the deck was in terrible shape. She had been left out for two winters without a cover (she had a cover; the two previous owners just did not use it). I had to strip the decks, pull, re-caulk, and re-pay about a third of her deck seams, and then we decided to try a high end deck oil to protect the wood. It didn’t work.

             Despite six coats of deck oil, that took forever to dry, and produced some nasty fumes, the deck bleached out before the end of our short New England season in the water. Further, I should say that despite being a yacht, I have always felt strongly that decks are to walk on. I have been on pristine, showpiece, sailing yachts where prior approval for footwear was needed. I even crewed for one guy, who would not allow potato chips on board, or anything cooked with oil and no food was allowed on deck because it might stain the teak decks. It was not any fun. I figure if you can’t walk on it, can’t have children, and the ship’s wolf aboard, then it isn’t worth much as a boat. On the other hand, I can’t just treat our beautiful deck as disposable; there had to be a middle ground.
             Two years ago, frustrated after fussing with different deck oil recipes, I threw up my hands and just varnished the decks with the same satin varnish that I used on the cabin sole and on the companionway ladder. I had been impressed by how little wear these areas showed, despite heavy traffic. To my surprise the single coat of satin varnish held up superbly well for two seasons with no attention. The decks were slippery when wet, but not much more than they had been when treated with deck oil.
             So, as part of maintenance this year I have refinished the decks again using just varnish. They look great now, and will look even better when I have repainted the covering boards. We shall now see how they hold up to sandy bare feet, deck boots, and wolf claws.

Another Boat Site

I just found another boat blog that has kindly linked to this site. Jack-a-roe has some great pictures, and posts of a Cheoy Lee Frisco-Flyer that is undergoing some serious restoration. It looks like the writer has some similar interests to those on this site as well, projects with kids, dogs, that sort of thing. If you are interested in Cheoy Lee boats or boat restoration in general-check it out.

Launchings

Some years ago, while in Canadian waters on a cruise, I was hanging out on board our Friendship Sloop, when the schooner American Eagle came in and dropped anchor. The harbor where we have a mooring on Deer Island, New Brunswick, is a spectacular spot but visiting vessels are few and far between, so I enjoyed watching the schooner come in and then went below to do chores. I was washing dishes when I became aware of another boat close by. I stuck my head up through the hatch and saw a couple in a rowboat resting on their oars and looking over our sloop. We greeted one another and they complimented the boat on her good looks and asked when and where she had been built. I told them that the Apprenticeshop had built her when it was located in Rockport Maine. At this point, the rowers nodded knowingly, let drop that they had suspected as much because they had been at the launching, and thought that they had recognized the boat.
           We then went on to have a delightful conversation about the launching. I was later able to find a picture of our boats first launch in a back issue of WoodenBoat (issue #91), which I cut out and framed.
           Launchings have always delighted me. There something about that magic moment when a boat lifts off her cradle or trailer for the first time and becomes buoyant and a living thing. As far as I am concerned, it does not matter if the vessel is something that the Bath Iron Works is launching for the Navy, or is the launch of a new rowboat, I still get a kick out of it. This is even true when we re-commission our boat each spring. The moment our boat slides down the rails at the yard and floats free is always memorable.
           You can watch the launching of another Friendship Sloop restored at the Apprenticeshop if you are in the Rockland area (Rockland, Maine, has been the home of the Apprenticeshop for some years under the umbrella of Atlantic Challenge). The sloop is the ANSA, I visited her several times last summer in the shop and I read in the Atlantic Challenge newsletter that ANSA will be re-launched on Thursday the 24th of May, I believe the launching is quite early, but may well be worth checking out. Check with the office at Atlantic Challenge for details if you are interested.
                    

Toys Made of String

I have been redoing decks on the boat in the evenings, which has not left much time for writing. However, last night it started to rain, so I was sorting photographs when I found the picture below.

This was an example of what happens when an uncle is trying to come up with things to do with his niece and those sailors arts came to the rescue. Neither the Turk’s head bracelet for Ginger (the Bear) nor the one I made for my niece lasted very long. I gather my niece washed hers so many times that it wore out, and Ginger lost hers (she is not the most responsible bear). What did last was the memory of tying those bracelets, and the fun we had making something cool out of a piece of string.

We’re not there yet…

At one point, I shared office space with a colleague who had a large poster of Mr. Spock from the Star Trek series on the wall with the quote below in very large print.

After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true.
Looking at the faded image of Mr. Spock, day after day, the quote became indelibly imprinted in my mind. I suspect it is paraphrased from some, older, possibly less iconic, but more credible source, because it would seem to capture one of those essential truths. Possibility, like hope, springs eternal. I may be more sensitive to this sentiment because I am a wooden boat owner.
           All boats need seasonal attention. Ignore them and they die. The essence of this axiom is both magnified and accelerated with wooden boats. The chances of starting the season with the hull, interior, spars, and sails all in tip top form are slim and none. Rather one learns to live with a constantly shifting balancing act in three parts. There are always parts of the boat of which have just received lots of attention and are in great shape. There are always parts of the boat that are, well, OK, and there are parts that are going to need attention-soon. If you’re lucky, the list of items in that last category never gets so large that it predominates.
           Despite this basic truth, the possibility that maybe this year, I will actually have the time to get all the work done, to finally have that season when the boat slides into the water in perfect condition is always tantalizing. Perhaps Mr. Spock is right though, that wanting is more pleasing than having. Possibly, if I ever had the experience of having the boat go into the water in perfect condition, it would be a let down. I don’t know. What I do know is that we’re not there yet…

The Almost Perfect Day…

There always seems to be at least one day on the water each season that is so memorable, so nearly perfect, that it keeps you going all through the winter months and sets you dreaming about “next year”.
         For the last two seasons, that magical day has involved a perfect July day with a topsail breeze. Last summer it was a day when I had as crew, a friend who I have known since we were in sixth grade, but whom I had not seen in ten years. It was great to catch up with someone with whom I had friends in common, and shared memories of childhood. We had just made a majestic (that means very slow) passage through the Fox Island Thoroughfare and were making for Isle Au Haut when the wind began to build giving us a spectacular ride. As we approached Kimball Island, we decided to fall off the wind and run in behind Merchant Island where we could strike the topsails and look for a good place to anchor for the evening.
         As we pulled into the lee of Merchant, we found ourselves headed for the cove at McGlathery Island, so we continued in and settled in for a late afternoon walk on the beach. The ship’s wolf was very appreciative of this move and as we enjoyed the beach, several schooners made their respective ways past our anchorage.
         It was a great day, a near perfect day…

Spring Commissioning: or Diesel Gremlins

I have been down in the boat shed again getting the diesel in the boat ready for re-commissioning.
          There are only two parts of our boat that I really don’t enjoy working on, one is the diesel (he other, in case you were wondering, is bottom paint). When we bought the boat there were no spare parts for the motor and the fuel tank had problems. I took out the old fuel tank, removed and replaced the pre-fuel filter and water separator, corrected a problem with the tank vent, restored the throttle, shifter, and linkages to the engine. We replaced the prop shaft when we bought the boat, so I figured we were over the worst.
          I was mistaken.
         About four years into owning the boat the engine developed the habit of dying when at low revolutions. This meant that the diesel would give out in situations like approaching a mooring in a crowded harbor with a cross current. Even though this provided material for many entertaining stories of near misses, we decided we would fix the problem anyway.
I had two very good mechanics climb all over the motor, and they both told me the same thing; that there was nothing really wrong with the diesel, but that the wiring, rubber hoses, and gaskets were all just old. They recommended that we pull the motor and bring it back to company that provided it and have them recondition it.
            The actual removal of the engine was not too difficult. When we built the shed for the boat, I had planned with just such an eventuality in mind. A small electric winch slides on a track mounted overhead and centered on the main hatch. It has already earned its keep while moving the wood stove and other, heavy parts of the interior in and out of the boat. My real concern was that once I got everything unhooked from the motor that I would never get all the bits and pieces hooked up again in the correct places. My solution was to hang labels on many of the connecting items and then photograph the motor from every possible angle before I disconnected anything.

             The other concern I had related to the engine once it was out of the boat. I did not want it to sit on its oil pan, or side, or, in fact on any part of the motor that might get bent, spindled, or mutilated. I also wanted to make moving the motor as easy as possible so that it would not get dropped in the process of shifting it to Marblehead, Massachusetts, where the reconditioning would be done. In this case, my solution was to build a simple cradle that I could bolt the motor to and that had four handles, or lifting points to make it easy to pick up and move around. I was able to disconnect the many linkages, wire harnesses, and hoses to the diesel, sling and lift the motor out of the boat using the electric winch, slide it over the cradle in the cockpit, and bolt it down to the cradle, by myself. When the time came, I was able, with the help of three other people, to pick up the cradle, move the motor with ease, and put it in the back of my truck.

               When the motor was re-furbished, the whole process was reversed. I had gone to great lengths to mark the right heights on the motor mounts, so that I would have an easier time with the basic alignment of the motor with the shaft when I re-installed it in the boat. I found my marks adjusted the motor mounts to the places I had marked, lowered the motor into place, and made final adjustments to get the mounts exactly the way they were before I removed the motor and hey presto: nowhere close. I did find that the photographs that I had taken of the motor before disassembly were invaluable when it came to reconnecting the various controls linkages and hoses, but even after considerable adjustments, I only got the most basic alignment done. Fortunately, I had already made an appointment with a mechanic to do the final alignment after the boat was back in the water.

               So, as I execute the various mechanic’s yoga positions in our limited engine compartment, performing routine tasks of replacing filters, checking hoses, and replacing engine fluids preparation for staring up the diesel for the first time of the season, I comfort myself with the thought that at least this year we did not have to pull the motor…