Tech Tip Tuesday

As I mentioned last week, my students are very often novice woodworkers.  They find that cutting the compound angles for the stringer ends at the bow and stern to be a difficult task.  Most of the folks that I see who are building this way show a trial-and-error method of making these cuts.

Because folks are a bit tentative making these cuts, in last year's class it was something that seemed to take a lot longer than I thought it would.  The other problem was that after the cut was made, students then used a rasp to "tune-up" the fit. As often as not, they would take material from the wrong end of the bevel which made the fit worse, not better - even after being instructed the proper way to fit the stems - multiple times.  To solve these issues and to get a good cut the first time out, I decided to develop a jig to help the students achieve repeatable results.

The jig consists of two parts and a five clamps.

In this case, we're looking at a jig designed to work for the bow stem of Jeff Horton's Stonefly canoe design.  There are jigs for both ends of the canoe and we've also made similar jigs for Dave Gentry's C15 kayak.

The first part of the jig is a bracket that attaches to the frame nearest to the bow's stem form.  (Seen below as the green-colored part.) Note: click on the images to open them at a larger size.

The first element of the jig is a horizontal member.  Attached to the horizontal member are blocks which fit into the inwale notches to set the location and height.  The horizontal member of the bracket is clamped to the two "ears" on the form to hold it in place.  You'll also notice a second member - a "tongue" that sticks out at a 90° angle to the first piece and is centered above the keel.  Underneath are some blocks - better viewed in the image below:

These blocks keep the two long horizontal pieces at a 90° angle to each other and provides a slot of sorts for the second part of the fixture.

The second piece (Seen below as the blue-colored part.) of the fixture is basically a copy of the stem form, mostly, but with some added feature.  Because it is a copy, it is the same thickness as the plywood being used for the stems - in this case, 1/2".

The features include some slots for the stringers to pass through at the height where they will normally go - this takes a bit of checking to make sure that the stringer's curve is fair.  The depth of the slots are such that the outermost part of the stringer passes through at the line which is offset from the forward edge by 1/2".  The width of the slots is taken by scribing the stringers high and low points onto the form.  The extended tail fits into the notches on the bracket described above and is clamped there.  The bottom of the form is clamped to the end of the keel to keep it from sliding side-to-side.

With the stringers installed, they pass through the slots.  (The stringers are shown in the color red and modeled as if they've been cut off.)

 

The stringers get clamped to the blue colored piece of the jig at the back. (Out of the way of the saw blade!)  The tool used to make the cut is a Japanese Bakuma style saw - which doesn't have a spine or "set" to the teeth.  To make the cut, you simply lay the flat of the blade against the face of the jig and cut straight down along that surface.  When all the stringers have been cut flush to the blue colored piece of the jig, you can then remove the jig and install the bow stem form.

Because the jig simulates having the stem in place, the stringers mate perfectly with the stem:

While this may not be a great use of time for someone building a one-off boat, we're building three copies of some designs and the time spent building the jig has saved more time in the cutting process than we lost building the jig - a good trade-off.  The other consideration is that this method of making the cuts is the best one that I've found to date.

Tempus Fugit

Another summer seems to have vanished like a sugar cube in a cup of hot coffee.   I suppose I got to paddle quite a bit and visit with friends and do interesting things, but it still seems altogether too short.  When I was a kid, it always seemed that summer went on forever.  I wish it still did.

However, this brings the start of wonderful things.   Like sign-up for a new year's class of boat-building.  After exhibition last June, I had a list nearly three pages long of people who were interested in the boat-building class.  I put together an email regarding class registration. (which was yesterday...) and about the class itself and sent it to the people on the list.

I figure that we usually get maybe 5% of the people who were interested at exhibition to actually show up for registration - if I'm lucky.  When I was driving to registration, I could see that all the side streets around the school were almost completely full of parked cars.  As I turned down the street the school is on, there were students waiting in a line that stretched down the sidewalk from the building to the street and down the sidewalk along the street.  It was only 9:00 AM - registration doesn't start until 10:00 AM, but is first-come, first-served in order to be fair to everyone, so people come early.  Sometimes really early - with a chair, a book, a cup of coffee, snacks, determination and apparently - a strong constitution.  It felt a bit like an Apple iPhone launch.

The lines for woodworking and boat-building as well as a few other classes run from the side of the building and ran all the way to the parking lot and back to the dumpster.  As I took my paperwork into the building and prepared to bring the skin-on-frame canoe downstairs as my "calling card", I was approached by a woman who was clearly distressed.

"Are you the boat building instructor?"

"Yes."

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That this class is for returning students only."

"WHAT?"

"That's what the sign says."

"No - that's not true.  It's open registration.  I don't have returning students."

I went and checked the sign with the class listings that showed students where to wait to register.  The sign clearly had an asterisk and a notation beneath the class name that said, "Returning Students Only".  I grabbed a marker and crossed that line out in a big hurry, let me tell you.  It was a clerical error from using an old class list.  I have no idea how many students saw that sign and went home without finding out if this was true.  I was beginning to sweat that the class wouldn't run because people left after seeing the sign.

Because of the way that the school runs, there are minimum enrollments - 8 people is the minimum for my class to run.  It's also sort of the maximum class size, too - I only have room to build and store 8 boats.  If each person decides to build their own boat (like last year's class...) I have the minimum number of people and the maximum number of boats - a precarious balancing act.  Fortunately for me, ten students registered and are planning to build 8 boats.  Two couples have decided to build a boat together and the other 6 students will build their own boats.

So, if anyone DID see the sign and go home, I apologize.  While I'm not responsible for the error, I still worry that people missed an opportunity.  If you did, please comment on this post or otherwise get back to me - I'd like to know.

Good advice from an unlikely source:

Ashton Kutcher at the Teen Choice Awards - give it a perusal:

You've GOT to be kidding me!

When we build boats, we're trying to build boats that are beautiful and functional in their own way.  Some are work boat finishes, some are varnish queens - it runs the gamut, really.  It's pretty rare to have a really awful looking boat.  While my students are building boats,  they are all way, way too critical of their own boats, but when exhibition finally rolls around, they are amazed at the ooh's, aaahh's, smiles and slack-jawed awe by the visitors who have come to see their work.  I think this is a great thing as it really helps build their pride in what they have done.

However, at the exhibition this year and at the WoodenBoat show at Mystic, I was disturbed to hear a refrain that I hear all too often.

"That's too pretty to put in the water!"

WHAT?

You've GOT to be kidding me!

The following quote is probably the best response to those who say that the boats are too pretty to put in the water -

A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for.

                              -William Shedd 

The canoes and kayaks, rowboats, sailboats and motorboats that were built were to go places and do things.  While some rare boats certainly deserve to be put on display or held by museums, for the most part, boats are meant to be used.  Careful maintenance and repair can extend their lives, but boats - particularly wooden boats - have a finite lifespan.  

The cedar strip and fiberglass canoes and kayaks that were built in my class were certainly built to be used.   What people don't know is that they're really much more durable than they might be led to believe.  I've dropped my canoe, banged into a metal railing with it, scratched it on rocks and gravel and other such indignities that a small canoe will be subject to.  But you know what?  I know how it was built and as such I know how to repair any damage.  Usual maintenance for this kind of boat is a wet sanding and a fresh coat of UV filtering varnish.  Maybe some new cane for the seat or a little polish of the brass or bronze bits.  When freshly refinished, many people would assume that the boat was new.

Nick Schade of Guillemot Kayaks was up at the WoodenBoat School last year with one of his kayaks.  As we prepared to go out for a paddle his shop assistant commented on how beat up the bottom was.  He commented that he uses his boats and will clean them up like I described above once in a while, but that he built the boat to have fun with.  From the scratches it was obvious that he did have lots of fun with it.

Still, just because you have fun with your boats, doesn't mean you don't cringe a little when you hear the formation of a new scatch.

Skin boats are a slightly different kettle of fish - they're still remarkably durable, but you do have to utilize some care - really sharp things are a problem, but for the most part, are surprisingly durable as a video in a previous post shows.  I've been amazed by the durability of these boats to take a beating and not show it.  I've launched my kayak on beaches with barnacle-covered rocks and debris, I've watched rocks deform the skin as I've passed over them in shallow water.  I've not had a leak or a significant scratch even though I don't "baby" the boat.

So, build a beautiful wooden boat or skin boat - and use it!

Tech Tip Tuesday

Questions, questions...

One of the things that I find with some of my former students, is that they're not.

This is a good thing.

What do I mean?  Well, very often, my students embark on a new boat or the restoration of an old boat.  Many of the skills that they've learned in my class are transferable to building a new canoe or kayak or restoring another boat.

What I usually find is that in my class my students get a good overview of the building process.  They also get the opportunity to learn from challenges and mistakes.  I get people from various backgrounds with varying levels of experience.  Often, the students are not only learning how to build a boat, but are also learning to be woodworkers as well, learning what the hand and power tools can do.  When they finish their boat and leave the class they've done all the things to build their own boat, but they are still growing.

After the students "graduate" they often call on me with questions about something they've done and forgotten how to do, or would like help doing.  They sometimes ask me questions about things that I may or may not have experience with.  If I have knowledge, I tend to share it if I can.  Sometimes it spurs me to learn something new, myself.  Sometimes it sparks a post here - like this one.

The big thing is that - like me - my students continue as students, polishing their skills and expanding their knowledge, but remain connected.

Never stop learning.

As I said above, this is a good thing - a very good thing.

Tech Tip Tuesday

I'm blushing. 

No, really  - blushing. 

How can you tell? 

I've been using epoxy.

Rather than lash frames, we've opted to bond the stringers to the frames with epoxy.  In this case, I happened to have a left-over kit of System Three's general purpose epoxy resin.  To create the adhesive, we have added fumed silica to the resin. (Note the dust mask that the student who was mixing the silica into the epoxy was wearing!  An excellent idea as you don't want to inhale the stuff!)  The System Three general purpose resin blushes a bit.  By that, I mean that it has an amine blush that rises to the surface f the bond joint.  This particular epoxy is amine based and the amine blush is a waxy coating that rises to the surface of the curing resin. 

This amine blush can raise havoc with the curing of finishes and the bonding of successive coats of epoxy if you want to apply them.  However, it is easy to remove this blush.  There are two tried and true ways.  One is with soap and water, the other is with household ammonia.  As we intend to coat the frames we're building with varnish or polyurethane before skinning them, we want to remove the blush to prevent problems with curing that can include retarding the cure or fish eyes in the finish.  You need to remove the blush before sanding so that you don't simply spread it around.

There are some resins that claim to be "blush free" - particularly clear-coat epoxies.  I tend to treat this with a grain of salt and assume that any epoxy that I use may have some amine blush.  It's a case of "better safe than sorry".

I'll tell you why I tend to be careful.   The first strip-built boat that I glassed with a particular vendor's epoxy said that I should prepare the surface before putting on a protective layer of UV filtering varnish.  I made the assumption that they meant sanding, and thoroughly wet-sanded the hull with water and fine-grit paper.  I then applied a good quality spar varnish with UV filters.  The next day, I went downstairs and touched the hull, leaving a finger print.  I figured that it was a bit cool in the cellar and let it wait.  I came home from work - same thing.  I let it sit two more days - a third finger print. 

After a call to the manufacturer's help line, I finally wound up removing the uncured varnish with solvents - a nasty, messy process.   I then prepped the hull per their instructions (ammonia and water) and then used their recommended proprietary coating.  I did have success, but learned a valuable lesson.

ALWAYS REMOVE THE BLUSH!

Tech Tip Tuesday

One of the things you learn pretty quickly when you start building boats - and I mean any kind of boat - is that you must become a skilled tradesman at many different things.  The only thing that I have been unable to make on my own boats (other than weaving fiberglass or mixing epoxy and varnish...) is hardware.  Bronze hardware, that is.

I have long desired to brush up my casting skills.  When I was in high school, I was fortunate enough to go to a public high school that still had a "manual arts" program which included drafting, woodworking and metal working.  As a freshman, you could take a class that was structured so that you got an introduction to all three.  In the metal shop, you learned some sheet metal work, aluminum casting, lathe and milling skills along with some basic welding and brazing.  Pretty cool, really.  I must say, when the high school was renovated, they removed the metal and wood shops - probably due to cost and liability.  I think that was a huge mistake for kids who would go on to study engineering disciplines in college.  Anyway...

The WoodenBoat School in Brooklin, Maine offers some great classes - if you have any interest in boats, boating or related arts and crafts, you owe it to yourself to go there.  It's summer camp for adults.  One of the classes they offer is a bronze casting class that is taught by Sam Johnson.   Sam got his start in casting when he wanted to get a copy of a port light that he had on his boat.  He approached a foundry regarding a copy of the port light and was appalled at the price they wanted.   He taught himself how to cast bronze and replicated the parts himself - learning how cheap the original quote truly was in the process. 

I'd seen some of the results of Sam's classes when I was at WoodenBoat before, seen his demonstration at Mystic Seaport during the WoodenBoat Show and had heard good things from previous students of his.  Back in December, when the school's catalog came out, I made up my mind that this would be the year for me to work on those skills.

The class was a wonderful hands-on class where we were learning the skills to sand-cast bronze hardware.  For the uninitiated, sand casting is a process by which you use a master pattern to create a part-shaped void in special oil sand with risers and gates to allow you to pour molten metal into the void.  When the metal cools, you have your part.

On our first day, we started out learning about how the process works - from a very basic perspective.  We started with instruction regarding safety in the foundry.  It is imperative to wear leather shoes, long cotton pants, safety glasses, welding gloves and preferably, long-sleeved cotton shirts.  The temperatures required to pour bronze are around 2,200° Fahrenheit (just over 1,200° centigrade for those working in the metric system) - really, really hot.  The other important safety tip is to make sure that any metal or crucibles are both dry and hot before going into the furnaces - moisture at that temperature will flash to steam and can cause a steam explosion, splashing molten metal out of the crucible.  We then delved into the construction of home-made propane-fired furnaces, tongs, crucible holders, and other items that were used in the process.  With the exception of the petro-bond sand (Graded sand that is coated with clay and then oiled to make it stick together), crucibles (Ceramic flask in which the metal is melted) and a few special items, pretty much everything was hand made or readily available in local stores.

Sam then showed us how to make the mold for a simple part.  The part looks basically like a bronze tuning fork and is used in the molding process with an awl to gently tap the patterns, gates and risers out of the sand. 

The first thing you do is to place a small piece of plywood, just larger than the base of the flask (The two-part wooden frame used to hold the sand.) on your bench.  You then separate the cope (top of the flask) and the drag (bottom of the flask)  Putting the cope aside and then flipping the drag upside down on the board (the bottom must be facing you for the process to work), you then put the pattern (Wood, plaster or plastic copy of the part to be molded), or part to be molded, on the surface of the board along with a piece of wood to form the runner (A channel for the molten metal to flow inside the mold).    Placement can't be too close to the edge or too close together to avoid having the bronze push out through a sidewall or burn the wooden flasks that we were using, or having the runner bleed into the part. 

You then apply a parting compound - a powdery substance used as a mold release to let the patterns and runners be easily pulled from the mold.  It also keeps the sand from sticking to itself.  We used both Calcium Carbonate and Corn Starch depending on the conditions.  Sand was then sieved in using a riddle (a box with a fine screen on the bottom) to get good detail of the parts.  More sand was then shoveled in and rammed into place with a piece of steel bar.  The sand should be firmly packed, but not to hard to allow gasses to escape.  This helps to yield a good surface finish.  Once the drag was slightly over-filled, a stick was used to strike off the excess sand yielding a flat surface on the bottom of the drag. 

The drag was then flipped over using the plywood to support the sand.  The cope was installed to complete the flask.  A gate block (Basically a small runner to connect the part to the runner.) was then put on top of the runner and touching the top surface of the part to connect them.  More parting compound was applied and a riser (A tapered piece with a square cross-section used to feed molten metal from the outside world to the runner.  The riser has this shape to avoid swirling of the molten metal that would erode the sand, contaminating the part.) was held against the runner and more sand was riddled onto the parts and more sand shoveled and packed into place.  The sand was basically packed in until it reached the top of the cope.  A small area was scooped out adjacent to the riser with a melon-baller to provide a "pouring cup"  The "tuning fork" was then used to tap the riser loose and it was gently pulled straight out of the sand.  Loose sand was blown away and sharp, fine edges of sand were removed.  The cope was gently removed and set aside exposing the gate, runner and part.  An awl or gimlet was inserted into each part and tapped gently to loosen them in the sand and then they were removed.  Care was taken to blow out loose particles of sand and to keep sharp edges around the part.  This helps to yield a high-quality part without "flash" at the edge of the part. 

The cope was then re-installed on the drag and they were clamped together.  This is important as the metal is so dense, when you pour in the molten bronze, the cope can float off the drag spilling hot metal everywhere.  (Don't ask me how I know this...)  Supporting the assembled sand mold on a piece of plywood, Sam brought it over to the casting area.  Removing the top from the furnace, he used a scoop to remove slag (Metal oxides, sulfides and contaminants.) from the crucible.  Picking up the tongs, he pulled the crucible from the furnace and in one smooth motion, poured the bronze into the pouring cup and filled the mold.  After a few minutes, he broke of the pouring cup (to return to the crucible)  and after a few more minutes broke open the mold to reveal the new part, still attached to gate, runner and riser.  Some quick sawing and sanding yielded the finished product.

This simplifies the description of the process somewhat as there are some "tricks to the trade".  I won't reveal them all - you should go learn for yourself if you're interested!  Basically, the rest of the week built on that process - how to make patterns and how to get complex items out of the sand  - parts with undercuts, odd shapes and the like - the real challenge is how to get them out of the sand.  Also, the metal shrinks as it cools, so you have to deal with this when recreating parts that require close dimensions.

Here's some pictures of a more complex part - a jib ring - being made. (No, the person shown isn't me or Sam, he's a fellow student.)

Original Forged Iron Jib Ring

Drag with Part and Runner

Packed Cope with Riser and Pouring Cup

Prepared Mold Shown Open

 Furnace and Pouring Area

 Removing Slag

Hot Crucible! 

Pouring Bronze

Cracking the Mold Open

 Part with Gate, Runner and Riser

As I've noted, we got lots of practice casting and made quite a few parts.  Pulleys, a mermaid fid, a sounder and many others.  Some folks brought parts or patterns they wanted to reproduce.  One fellow brought a pattern for a bracket to hold a signaling canon that he'd made to his boat's rail.  He hadn't known enough about pattern making and the gate for the part was problematic.  Sam suggested a horn riser and described what it was and how it worked.  The student went and made it proceeded to successfully pour the part.  Sam later told him that it was something that he, himself hadn't tried, but had read about! 

One of the major reasons that I went was to try to make a set of pad-eyes to mount on the canoe decks.  Ultimately I want to create something that's a little bit fancier than this, but it was a good first try.  Here's the pattern:

In the top right is a core-box.  It's used to create a sand shape to fill the cavity left when the master pattern is removed from the sand.  The leaf-looking thing is the master pattern with a half-round shape that will be filled by the core.  The two smaller pieces are the bosses which attach to the back of the master pattern in the top half of the mold.  The bosses would later be tapped to allow for machine screws that would hold the part from underneath the deck.  When the part was removed from the mold, it looked like this:

After removing the runner and gates, I had this:

 

After more clean up and a bit of polishing, we had these - not looking bad, eh?

We spent a fair amount of time learning how to finish our parts as well - sanding, grinding, filing and pollishing the parts.  We also learned a bit about applying various patinas to the bronze. 

I'll end the post like the end of every day - with the pouring of ingots to empty the crucibles:

Pemigewasset River Trip

We took a trip back in June with some friends on the Pemigewasset River in New Hampshire.  The Pemi, as it is known up there, is a fairly gentle river that is known for it's sandy bottom and clear water.  Trusting in the scouting reports of friends that we were paddling with, we brought two wooden canoes - the lapstrake Charlotte and a cedar strip Wabnaki and DW's new Tupperyak.  We drove there on a Friday and stayed at a private campground right on the water in Thornton, NH.

The campsites were small, but clean and there were great amenities and services for campers.  The sites that our group had were literally right on the water.  Our plan was to get a shuttle upstream that was provided by the campground and paddle back downstream to the campground on Saturday, returning home on Sunday.  That's one of the wonderful things about the Northeast US.  There are many accessible mini-wilderness experiences that you can enjoy on a weekend.  At any rate we spent Friday evening setting up camp, having dinner and enjoying a campfire with old friends and some new ones as well.  Here's a view of the campsite:

Just beyond the canopy and the trees was the river.  This was the view from the campsite - an old railroad bridge:

I noted that the Pemi was a sandy bottomed river. Well, it was, until Irene came through last year.  Most of the river bottom was a bit "bony" in that most of the sand had been washed up onto the banks of the river and new channels carved out by the rushing flood-waters from Hurricane Irene.   While I understood that there was a rockier section of the river up near Woodstock, I'm not sure that I was fully ready for what I found.  When we finally put in on Saturday we'd gone a few hundred yards downstream and had to get out and walk the boats.  The river was shallow and fast with barely enough water to float the boats in some spots.  Some bits included some pretty fast Class I and Class II water with obstacles to paddle around.

I was particularly impressed with DW and DD's abilities to read the river and find safe routes through the whitewater stretches of the river.  What was even more impressive was the amount of water toys on the river.  Our group had brought squirt guns of various forms and some Stream Machine water blasters.  We ran into a group of Boy Scouts who were of a similar mind and were "well armed".  When the first overtook us, they pulled out squirt guns and began to ply streams of water in our direction.  They definitely regretted that shortly after.  Two of our group had the Stream Machines out and soaked the Scouts with 1/4" streams of water.  This went on for most of the day.

Timing seemed to be with us as we approached the end of our journey.  A stiff breeze blew up that portended some heavier weather.  Thunder and a bit of lightning appeared upstream from us and we managed to get off the river just as some sprinkles of rain began to fall.  Fortunately for us, the storm went around us and we stayed dry.

Dinner was a pot-luck affair with a campfire to follow.  Another great evening.

The trip was not without casualties, however - the Wabnaki has some new battle scars:

Be prepared for me to use this boat as an object lesson for some Tech Tip Tuesday learning to follow.  People often talk about how fragile that cedar strip and fiberglass canoes are, but I'll be showing you the wonder of how you can restore the canoe to like-new glory!

Saturday Night Wisdom

The World's Most Expensive Canoe

While you probably don't believe me, the canoe below is probably one of the most expensive canoes that I've ever seen:

 

Until this morning, I hadn't thought about it much.  One of my students commented on the thought and I started putting two and two together. (and two more and two more....)   It's sort of like the book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Numeroff.  (If you haven't read it, you should - even if you're not 6 years old.)  It started out innocently enough - and built upon itself.  

Let me tell you a story.

About 2-1/2 years ago, a woman came to the first night of exhibition at the school where I teach.  At this exhibition, the students display the work they've been doing in their various classes, including our canoes.  This woman saw the canoes and returned with her husband the next day for the second part of the exhibition.  She insisted that she and her husband wanted to sign up for up-coming session of the class that would start in the Fall and that they wanted to build a tandem canoe.  When I informed her that we did solo double-paddle canoes, she still insisted that it should be a tandem.

As I'd had others interested in building two-seat canoes, I spent time over the summer choosing what I felt would be the best, most versatile design  - and one that we could actually get into the shop.  The canoe chosen was the Prospector Ranger 15 from the Bear Mountain Boat Shop.  After some real thinking about it, I figured out how to lighten both forms and strongback as well as lowering the forms so we could get it into the shop every week.

True to their word, this couple came to sign up for the class - the die was cast!

In the first session, they brought in stock to build the strongback and station molds, along with the Western Red Cedar that would become the strips for the hull.  They then proceeded to select one of the more expensive woods we use for accent strips - Peruvian Walnut for use in the feature strip and for all the major trim work but the decks.  The decks?  Oh, they're just from a piece of Mesquite - custom cut on a friends bandsaw mill, no less.  In addition to the materials they've purchased, they've also purchased hand tools necessary to build the canoe including saws, plane, chisels and the like.

We'll fast forward a little bit here...  After having two students sign up for a total of 4 semesters (that's tuition for 8 class semesters total at at this point...) we are in the middle of the 4th semester.  Glassing of the the hull's interior is nearing completion and seats are being built.  At this point, the couple realizes that they need a vehicle that will be able to carry this canoe as they don't feel the small cars they have are appropriate - and one needs replacement anyway.  So, they get a new car to carry the canoe.  Then something happens to the car - there was an accident under some concerning circumstances. (perhaps the car, not the driver...)  They decide they are uncomfortable with this vehicle and get a different, new, vehicle for the canoe.  Oh - and the racks to go on the vehicle.

At the end of the semester, a serious blow has been dealt to their plans.  The couple live in a condominium that is several flights of stairs up from ground level and don't have a garage.   The canoe was going to live in a garage belonging to friends to keep the friends' existing canoe 'company'.  However, the friends have purchased two plastic kayaks and now there is no space in the garage for the Prospector.  Brains are wracked for solutions, but none come to light.

Until August.

We had a nice summer picnic at the camp belonging to one of the other students to work on the caning of the canoe seats.  It is a lovely place on a pond not far from here.   The couple building the Prospector had a wonderful day at the camp and was enamored of the idea of a rustic little place on a lake somewhere.  

Fast forward to this Fall.

The couple returns to sign up for their last semester of boat-building.   We hear the excited news that the couple has purchased a log cabin on a piece of water a bit further away so that the canoe will have a home.

So, to tally:

Materials to build the canoe - Check.

Hand tools for building the canoe - Check.

10 semesters worth of tuition - Check.

Two - count 'em - two new cars to transport canoe - Check.

Log cabin at the lake to store and use the canoe - Check.

While I don't know the actual dollar total, all I can say is that at this point it is a substantial sum of money that has been expended here.  I hope they love to paddle!  

This morning, the subject of their planned launch party - to take place this June at the log cabin at the lake - came up.  Perhaps the last expense of their canoe-building odyssey.  I half-jokingly said that if they served no beverage other than champagne at the party (Dom Perignon at that...) that the party wouldn't be the most expensive part of the whole building process!

Tech Tip Tuesday

Today's Tech Tip Tuesday is about sharpening your own skills by helping others.  You never know what you might learn...

I always try to do my best to help out other boat builders.  Sometimes they're students in my class, sometimes they're people building their own boat who have a question.  It truly varies.  As a teacher, one of the things that I've learned is that students all come from a different backgrounds with different experiences.  As such, they all seem to look at the building process and questions that they encounter from different points of view.  As I've mentioned before, I often think that I learn more from my students than some of the woodworking instructors that I've had.

I got a call from a man who lives nearby and is building a Chesapeake Light Craft hybrid kayak kit - a Shearwater 16, I believe.   He'd done a great job on the tack-and-tape hull and was just getting ready to start stripping the deck.  Having never done any strip construction before, he had some questions about the process.  While CLC makes some decent manuals and offers a good technical support line, sometimes there isn't a substitute for a bit of face-to-face discussion over the parts and tools.  At any rate, I offered to meet him at his shop - a space in a local mill building to see if there was any support that I could offer.

At any rate, we went over some of the questions that he had and deciphered the intentions that the folks at CLC had when they wrote the manual.  It was a very pleasant visit and  as usual, I heard new questions and the same questions expressed different ways.  It gives me a bit of practice and be better prepared for understanding a question that a student might pose to me. 

Go out and sharpen your own skills and do a good deed all at the same time!

Caning Party

After our last, rather pleasant session caning on the front porch here at the Chateau D'Zaster, one of my students and her sister (another student...) kindly offered to host the next cane-weaving session at her camp on a local pond.  This is actually the same pond where we've celebrated the 4th of July with some other friends who also have a camp there.  As you can see for the panorama above, the location is fabulous and it turned out to be a wonderful day, weather-wise.

The plan for the day was for everyone to arrive around 1:00 PM and we'd spend time working on our caning and share a pot-luck dinner that evening when we were done.

People gradually trickled in and settled themselves, and we started in with some good, honest work and instruction.  Some had not caned in a while and there was a bit of repair and checking on some of the pieces before more work could continue.

  

You can almost feel the intensity of focus in the picture below:

 

There were also some snacks and drinks to keep up the spirits of the participants as the afternoon wore on.  The variety seemed to rotate as the afternoon wore on.  The ladies who were our hosts, had held a recent party and had lots of small bottles of soda from a boutique soda maker in the area along with iced tea, lemonade and water.  A bottle of beer or glass of wine made the occasional appearance as well...

 

As I said before - the location was really very beautiful and the gardens were beautiful...

 

This particular group of students spans several years of classes.  Along with students were several spouses as well as some other family and friends who were kindly invited to join us for the afternoon.  There is a builder who completed his kayak (The Phoenix...) and there are 4 students who really don't have much more to complete their canoes other than the seat caning.  So, they were hard at work...

 

BUT.

"All work and no play will make Jack a dull boy."

 

There was also some fun to be had as well.  Some of us went for a bit of a sail - my first time of anything like sailing with some great instruction - I need to do some more!  (Do I see a 50/50 sailing canoe in my future?)

There were also several canoes and kayaks and I'd brought my Wee Lassie to give people who are building the boat the opportunity to take it for a spin to get a feel for it.   Here's the builder out for a spin in the Phoenix.  I got my first paddle in this boat on Sunday and it is a very sweet and fast kayak - a pleasure to handle.

 

The water was also too inviting not to get in an afternoon swim after working up a sweat with nimble fingers.  I won't say the water was too warm, but it was almost too easy to just settle into the water and float back into the pond.  People worked their way back and forth from the water to the task at hand until it was time to start the grills.

Dinner was an impressive event and the groaning board was so full that we had to take the desserts out to the kitchen!  There were hamburgers and hot-dogs along with sausages of various kinds, grilled vegetables, potato salad,  fresh fruit, beans and rice as well as baked beans, salads and all the trimmings.  If you walked away hungry it was your own fault!  Blueberry cobbler and brownies rounded out the meal for those who could find space.    I must say, that when we tend to have sessions that include food, there is always an abundance of truly fantastic things to eat - and I like to cook and eat about as much as I love to build and paddle boats!

One of the more interesting things that happened was the arrival of a woman as we were cleaning things up who was looking for some jumper cables for her dead battery.  Fortunately, I have DW carry a a set of them, so she was able to loan them to this woman. (DW's commute is a bit remote...)  On this woman's return with the cables, we started to talk about the boats - I could swear I recognized her, but couldn't place her at first.  It was Lynne Padu.  Lynne is a boatbuilder and educator who has also taught cedar-strip canoe making.  Her work was brought to my attention by a co-worker who is an Appalachian Mountain Club member a number of years ago when he brought in a copy of an article in the AMC's  Outdoors magazine featuring Lynne and her work.  It was truly a pleasure to get to talk with her and I hope that our paths will cross again in the future.

Still, all good things must come to an end and so, with a gorgeous pink and orange sunset, we bid our hosts a fond farewell and headed for home.

Addendum : This afternoon, I received an email that was copied to the group by the wife of the couple building the tandem canoe in the class.  They had such a wonderful time yesterday it has got them thinking of a camp of their own at the pond!

Tech Tip Tuesday

So, this is a continuation of a previous Tech Tip Tuesday. My student who is building the Wee Lassie II which has been dubbed Wavy Gravy for its sinuous feature strip finished up the second bottom panel at the last class session and set up the jig to cut the panel with a circular saw as he had the first side. Before he made the cut, he set up his laser (above) to see where the cut was going to lie - right in the previous kerf at both ends.

When the cut was made, he erred on the side of caution and cut a kerf width wide. While this wasn't a bad idea, the panels wouldn't fit with this extra material. When the bottom panels are fitted, they need to lay on the forms without "springback". In other words, when you push on the bottom panels where the forms are, it should feel solid, the panel shouldn't flex and spring back up. These are key indications that the panel doesn't fit yet. If there is springback, it is likely that the hull will crack when fairing or sanding the hull. This is a bad situation to be in and we want to avoid it by properly fitted panels.

To make the panels fit, he took a plane to remove material from the second panel. (The first panel was cut exactly to size.) This material is most easily removed when the panel is off the hull forms. While the panel will flatten out slightly, he had cut the panel on the hull, so the bevel angle would vary down the panel length and he could use that bevel as a guide to plane the material away. Quite frankly, I think he did a good job - the hull was tight with the exception of the last 12-14" on one end - it was open a bit at the bottom and will need a either need a little bit of Dookie Shmutz filler or a sliver of cedar to fill the gap.

We also needed to apply a clamp and v-block to hold the panel ends at the proper angle to bond well.


It was also trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with inner tubes while the bottom set up.


The results look good so far. Next week, the clamp blocks that are holding the feature strip in place (he didn't want fasteners through the feature strip) will be removed and he will strip up to the sheer line.

Faith-Based Navigation

For most of my driving life, I've found my way around using gas-station maps (a thing of the past) and the old faithful from Rand McNally. (current version pictured above) I've even done without. I took a short vacation when I was single and living in Vermont that I referred to as my "turn left" vaction - when in doubt, I'd simply turn left. It was an interesting way to see the area and I'm sure that I saw some things that I never would have found otherwise. It wasn't always an effective way to find my way around, but it was fun and I really didn't care where I was.

Since we've gotten married, DW and I have tended to go on vacation in the UK to go visit family and to see some of the tourist sites. Because we're on a relatively tight schedule, we need good maps to be able to get to the places we want to go to. More importantly, we need to be able to get to the places "on time" so that we can make the best use of our limited time. For the last few visits, we've used either borrowed UK road atlases or used our Ordinance Survey Maps. For finding specific attractions, we've downloaded directions from online mapping services like Google or Mapquest - a big change from the past.


On our visit to the UK this summer, we seemed to have more difficulty than usual navigating by map. Two things seemed to contribute to this - one was probably the age of the maps, the other was the resolution of the maps - it wasn't good enough for us to actually navigate in the city of Bath. Ironically, before we left my BIL's house, he had offered us the use of his GPS. We had turned down the offer based on our previous (successful) experience navigating with our maps. Instead, we carried on the family tradition of disagreeing on how to get there and the navigator's competence.

When we got to my MIL and FIL's house, we navigated based on DW's knowledge of the immediate area. One day we were planning to head to North Wales and my FIL offered us the use of his GPS. We accepted his kind offer and used it to good effect. It got us out of a few missed turns and in difficult streets around Caernarfon. The only issue that we seemed to have with the GPS was on our trip back to my MIL and FIL's house - there was a long stretch of stone wall on the left and the GPS kept insisting, "TURN LEFT. TURN LEFT NOW."

I think not.

We were planning to visit family in Southeastern, Pennsylvania at a new house. I know from a visit we took to the area that navigating there was fairly difficult. Roads are narrow and bend up, down and sideways. There also isn't much of a view to let you see where you're going, where you've been or to get landmarks. This fact along with an outstanding sale at a local electronics retailer led me to purchase a TomTom XL350T GPS.


The GPS is pretty neat - it will allow you to find gas stations, restaurants and the like along your way and has traffic updates to help you avoid back-ups. It does way more than I really need it to and will let me load UK maps for future travel.

We left early in the morning with a plan to visit a friend of DW and her family in New Jersey on our way to Pennsylvania for a lunchtime stop. Along the way, we studiously ignored the directions provided by the GPS because "she" wanted to take us though New York City on Route 95 - where we didn't want to go. When we finally left DW's friend's house, it was about 3 PM. We figured it would be another 2 hours to our final destination.

The New Jersey Turnpike had other ideas.

There was a significant traffic back-up on the Turnpike that delayed us for about 45 minutes or more. For whatever reason (probably pay-back for ignoring "her" earlier), we didn't get a warning about the back-up or didn't know how to interpret what we were seeing on the GPS display at the time. For us, the problem was that it was going to get dark before we reached our destination. We finally got out of the back-up and on to the Pennsylvania Turnpike and it was looking like things were going to be fine. When we were nearly at the exit we wanted, the GPS warned us that there was a delay on the planned route and suggested an alternate. We took it.

This was the beginning of the faith-based navigation. It was dark and we were on unfamiliar roads - we followed "her" instructions as they came. It felt like we were careening through the dark on some strange GPS driven roller-coaster as the roads we were on had few signs and fewer indications that we were on the correct path. The GPS told us that there was only 3 miles to our destination, but until we actually made the turn into my family's development, we had no clue that we were anywhere close.

Ain't technology wonderful?