Scrape, Sand, Paint

How do you turn an ugly duckling into a head turner? Just scrape, sand, and paint. No rocket science required. Just lots of healthy elbow grease.

Now that I'm almost done, I have been looking through the pictures I've taken the last week or so, and find they make an interesting progression. Hope you agree.

 

Photo 1. Freshly out of the water

Photo 1 shows the Blue Moon freshly hauled. I think she's still dripping. Her bottom is covered with oysters, barnacles, and a thick, sticky goo. Nasty stuff.

  

Photo 2 - Close up of bottom

Here's a close up of the bottom. My dinky Home Depot power washer didn't make a dent on this sort of junk. It's possible to scrape or wire brush this stuff off. Bob and I went at it with such tools for a couple hours. It probably would have take 2 days to get all the junk off. We eventually gave up and rented a heavy duty power washer. The kind with a big gas engine and a jet that will take your foot off if you aren't careful. That was the right tool for the job.

  

Photo 3 - Remove the junk, find the worms

Power washing the junk off revealed the bottom, which had other problems.

  

  

Photo 4 - Removing barnacle 'feet'

One of the most difficult problems was how to remove the barnacle 'feet'... these are little shell-like objects that stick to the hull like crazy. You'd think they were epoxied on if you didn't know better.

The power washer didn't take them off. You could sand them off with a power sander, but that was like using a bulldozer to plant a petunia. It worked, but removed too much paint and/or wood surrounding the foot.

Photo 5 - the right tool for removing feet

After experimenting with several tools, I discovered a broad, sharp chisel took the feet off quickly and without damaging anything else. I'm sure it needs sharpening, after such abuse, but that's not a problem.

Photo 6 - Sanding... the unavoidable job

Eventually, the topsides and bottom needed a good sanding, mainly to fair out the uneven paint, as much as possible. A purist might have removed all the paint. I'm not a purist!

 

Photo 7 - worm holes epoxied shut

After sanding and removing the bad wood around worm holes, we epoxied the holes. And sanded again.

 

Photo 8 - first coat applied

After the first coat of bottom and topside paint, she's starting to look good.

 

Photo 9 - done!

And here she is with a second coat top and bottom, rail painted a nice cream color, with a matching waterline.

Whew! And that's how I spent my winter vacation! Launching tomorrow!


>> Next Episode: Lining Off

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Hand Tooled Shoe

Sometimes you make the right choices. When you do, and they pay off -- even in a small way -- it feels good.

While prepping the Blue Moon for painting, I discovered that the sacrificial worm shoe had paid the ultimate price for Blue Moon's health. It had done it's duty, and needed to be replaced. Actually, from the look of it, it had needed to be replaced for a good long time.

 

A fully sacrificed, sacrificial worm shoe

photo jalmberg

What is a sacrificial worm shoe? It is a small piece of wood, located aft of the lead keel, at the base of the stern post. This, typically, is the lowest part of the keel on a full keel boat, and thus the spot most likely to hit bottom in shallow water. Hitting bottom is a great way to scrape off bottom paint, particularly if the bottom is rock, coral, or the vast collection of rusting metal junk at the bottom of most harbors.

And, as I learned yesterday, scraping off bottom paint is equivilant to ringing the dinner bell for marine boring worms. 

Thus, instead of feeding the keel or stern post to the worms, clever builders install a small piece of replaceable wood in this location. If it's eaten by worms, you can throw it away and install another. 

As you can see from the photo above, my 'shoe' was fully sacrificed, and I needed to make a new one. This gave me the opportunity to test my hand-tool theory.

I've been collecting old tools that no one seems to want any more, specifically because I wanted to be able to fix things without being dependent on electricity. It so happened that I had plenty of electricity available, but I only needed a small bit of it.

 

My impromptu work bench

photo jalmberg

I first traced the outline of the shoe onto a scrap of mahogany left over from Cabin Boy's transom. I don't know if mahogany is a good wood for this purpose, but I had it with me and it has to be better than the piece of 1/2" plywood that the previous shoe had been made of. I figured if it didn't work out, no worries! I'd just replace it. I love wooden boats.

My little portable vise was great... it didn't take up much room in my tool box, but it's really heavy and made sawing out the shoe (with my Japanese pull saw, of course) a snap. I trimmed it up with my block plane, and in practically no time, had a replacement shoe that was better than the original.

Old and new shoes... Looks pretty good, eh?

photo jalmberg

The next step was to bed the new shoe in place with a liberal slathering of bedding compound. I used 3M 101 sealant, because this stuff comes highly recommended for this purpose, and because I had an open tube in my box of stuff. This is not the place for epoxy. Either I, or some future owner, will need to replace this shoe someday, and I don't want to need dynamite to get it off.

 

New shoe, with bedding compound liberally applied.

(No, I didn't use your favorite putty knife, Helena!)

photo jalmberg

To make the mounting process easier, I pre-drilled the counter-sunk holes in the shoe, positioned the shoe in place, and then drilled the holes in the keel. I used #8, 1 1/2" silicon bronze screws, rather than the hardware store round-heads that had held the old shoe on. Another improvement, I hope.

A perfect fit

photo jalmberg

The photo makes the joint look like an ice cream sandwich, but that is an illusion. The bedding compound is probably 1/8" thick, and the piece of mahogany is 7/16" thick. But when I removed the excess compound with a putty knife, it smeared on the edge of the shoe. It's really mostly wood, and a thin layer of compound, not the other way around, as it looks.

Note the end of the lead ballast keel to the right. Again, the joint between the keel and shoe is about 1/8" of bedding compound, but that stuff smears like anything.

And that is what you call a hand-tooled shoe. A small accomplishment, but very  satisfying.

>> Next Episode: Scrape, Sand, Paint

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Don't Panic

If a wooden boat is neglected for a couple of years, there are bound to be one or two spots where the bottom paint has been scuffed or worn off. In that case, you should expect to find worm holes.

And after clearing the major crud off the Blue Moon's bottom, that's exactly what I did find.

A minor problem, compared to battling worms?

Wikimeda Commons

Of all the monsters in the mythology of the sea, from Jonah's Whale, to Moby Dick, to Jules Verne's giant squid, none are as feared by sailors as the lowly marine boring worm.

And for good reason. It wasn't a giant squid that sank all of Christopher Columbus's ships on his 4th voyage to the New World. It was the worm. In fact, worms plagued all the great wooden ships during the Age of Exploration, until someone discovered that covering bottoms with sheets of copper -- using the same techniques used to make copper sheathed roofs -- would protect ships from the voracious wood-eating worms.

So, when I found tell-tale worm holes on the lovely Blue Moon's bottom, I decided to do some research on the problem.

Worm holes along a line of rubbed-off bottom paint

photo jalmberg

Now, wooden boat lore abounds with ship worm horror stories and remedies -- mostly of the drastic nature.

These remedies include:

1. Drilling lots of small holes and injecting home-made or patent substances guaranteed to kill the buggers. The best solutions include chemicals banned by the Geneva Conventions.
2. Flushing the worms out with fire. A propane torch is handy. As is a fire extinguisher, no doubt.
3. A trip up a fresh water river... these salt water creatures can't live in the purer stuff.

After the panic induced by this research subsided, I decided some first-hand investigation was in order.

Most of the stories talked about holes extending as far as 6 feet into the planking. I suddenly realized that I could plumb the depths of my own holes with a stiff wire, or other small, thin object.

The next morning, I picked my smallest drill bit out of my tool box and -- holding my breath -- plunged it into one of the holes.

Small, not very hungry monsters?

photo jalmberg

The drill bit went in about 1/4". And whatever worm had made the hole was gone.

I poked into all the holes. All were about the same depth. All were vacant. This was a bit of a let down. I blew out the propane torch with a sigh. Other sailors have all the fun.

However, further inspection showed that the worms had done damage. It wasn't the tiny holes, themselves that was the problem, but the fact that these holes had let sea water into the wood for an extended period of time (due to the fact that the Blue Moon hadn't been hauled frequently enough.) This caused the wood around the holes to get soft and start to rot.

There are various treatments for this rot, but since the rot was so limited in scope, I decided to pull out my favorite chisel (never leave home without your favorite chisel) and just cut out the bad wood.

It was only a few minutes work to cut the wood back to good wood. I then mixed up some epoxy putty, and filled the shallow, 'V' shaped channel.

Excavated channel, filled with epoxy

photo jalmberg

So, the lesson this wooden boat restoring newbie takes from this experience is, don't panic. One of the great things about actually having a wooden boat to work on, rather than just reading about them as I've done for so long, is that it is there in front of you to poke, tap, and probe. You don't have to take someone else's word for what might (or might not) be going on with your boat. You can just look at it yourself.

An whatever is wrong, you can be pretty sure that you won't need rocket science to fix it. Some hand tools, patience, common sense (and maybe a daub or two of epoxy), with get you through most problems.

>>> Next Episode: Hand Tooled Shoe

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Blue Moon Rising

And now for something completely different...

A weather window in Florida opened up, and I was able to get a slot on the only Travel Lift within 50 miles of my Blue Moon, so I abandoned Cabin Boy for the moment, and dashed down the coast with a Honda Fit full of tools, paint, and other supplies.

The Blue Moon has been swinging on twin anchors in the Steinhatchee River for at least six months. If the Travel Lift hadn't lifted her up, I do believe she would have hopped up the ramp herself... she was clearly ready for some TLC.

Blue Moon dwarfed by Travel Lift

A close inspection revealed that she's in great structural shape, but in dire need of a good paint job. She was so pretty, and so clearly raring to get back into sailing shape, that I couldn't wait to get to work on her.

Her bottom was a complete mess. Oysters, barnacles, and a thick green slime coated the entire bottom. A power washer took off the big, nasty stuff. Scrapers, putty knifes, and a lot of elbow grease got off the rest.

After the bottom had dried out over night, it was time to sand. Amazingly enough, there was still bottom paint under all that crud. Several colors of bottom paint, in fact. She sanded up nice and smooth.

And here's how she looks after two days of work. Shaping up nicely!

 

And here's a pic of Bob, still working away as the sun starts setting. Not a bad day's work for an 82 year old, eh?

As I always say, if I can do it... if an 82 year old can do it... you can do it!

Blogging on a lap top with limited battery life, so must be short. Tomorrow, I talk about Sea Monsters.

>>> Next Episode: Don't Panic

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Seeing DNA

When you look at the plans of a Master, like John Atkin, everything you need to know is right in front of your face. It's in the plans... in the boat's DNA.

The trick is seeing it.

On this Day 10, I was sailing along at full speed, a fresh wind on my quarter, when I suddenly struck Blind Rock. I didn't know what had happened, only that I was stopped dead, unable to move forward.

I'd been trying to mount Cabin Boy's transom on the frame, in preparation to lining off the planks. Since I was merely adjusting my fabulous transom-mounting micro-invention, I figured this would be a 5 minute job.

Boy, was I wrong...

The Problematic Micro Invention

photo jalmberg

I'll use my own words to make my argument: "Still, if I had more time, I'd probably take the time to build the jig. It would probably be a tad more precise."

Oh, fateful words! A 'tad more precise', indeed. But I get ahead of myself...

If you recall, I had to invent a clamp to hold the stem in the correct place on the frame. Since the leading edge of the stem lined up perfectly with the cross piece on the ladder frame that represented Station A, this was easy.

When it came time to mount the transom, I just could not visualize how to build a jig to position it in space. And none of my boat building books was any help. They just vaguely referred to a jig, but didn't give an example that seemed to apply to Cabin Boy's design.

Stumped, I decide to use a variation of the clamp I had used in the stem (see photo, above.) The beauty of this system was that it was infinitely adjustable.

The question I should have asked myself was: why did I need an infinitely adjustable system?

My quote, above, answers that question: because I didn't take the time. With my adjustable system, I didn't need to! I could just 'fiddle' with it, until it looked right.

Big, big mistake!

Disaster Averted? I don't think so!

photo jalmberg

Despite my confident assertion, yesterday, that "Disaster had been averted!", when I'd trimmed the chine logs and tried to line up the transom, it just didn't work. The lines of the keelson, chine logs, and transom just didn't come together. Something was wrong.

It was back to my Thinking Chair, again. After a few more minutes, a dim light began to dawn... I pulled out Cabin Boy's plans, and studied them carefully...

Oh blast... How could I have been so stupid!?!?

I had lined up the top of Cabin Boy's transom with Station 5. I should have lined up the bottom! Because of the rake in the transom, this small error meant that the transom needed to be pushed back about 2 1/2". Just as I suspected for a few moments on Day 11, before talking myself out of it.

How had I made this mistake?

Well, building the boat upside down helped. What is the 'top' and what is the 'bottom', when the boat is upside down? Easy to confuse (particularly if you are easily confused!)

But I think the main reason was giving myself permission to take the short cut of using my adjustable transom clamp. If I had forced myself to figure out how to build the fixed jig, I probably would have discovered my error in the process. By short-circuiting that process, I spared myself the opportunity of finding the error.

Doh!

Ironically, by the time I had figured out what I'd done wrong, I knew exactly how to build the jig. And it was really, really simple.

There's a lesson in there, somewhere...

All that's needed is a pair of boards cut at the right angle. And where does this angle come from? Right off the plans! In fact, I could have taken a pattern right off the lofting board.

Easy to say now, but until today, I just couldn't see it. A strange form of blindness, when you can't 'see' what's right in front of you.

Anyway, here's what 1/2 of the jig looks like:

Not exactly rocket science, eh? You just need to measure the rake angle off the plans... in Cabin Boy's case, about 12 degrees. Then, just cut the angle. I measured the distance from the Base line to the bottom of the transom to get the location of the notch, but that didn't work out because of the extra wood at the top of the transom, that still needs to be trimmed off.

No matter, it was easy enough to screw a spacer into the correct place on the ramp, so that the transom was held at the right height.

Note the spacer blocks that boost the transom to the correct height.

photo jalmberg

So two of these jigs, attached to the outside of the ladder frame, held the transom at the right height, at the right angle. And how about the fore an' aft location of the transom?

That distance was also noted clearly on the plans. The bottom of the transom (top, in photo, because boat is upside down), should be directly over Station 5. Easy-peasy.

A fixed jig to hold the transom in place. 

photo jalmberg

And that's all there was to it. With the jig firmly affixed to the frame, I didn't have to fool with 4 clamps and an infinitely adjustable system. I knew the transom was fixed in the right place, at the right angle. Forever.

Grrrr! So simple! So hard to see! And such a relief to finally get it right.

I'd love to hear your tales of discovery, and I'm sure others would, as well. Feel free to leave your own stories in the comments section below!

Maybe tomorrow I will finally line off the hull. Wow!

>> Next Episode: Blue Moon Rising

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-- John

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Easy is Overrated

Once or twice a week, I get gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) comments or emails from readers, asking me, in one way or another "Why do you do everything the hard way?!?!"

An easy answer would be, because my goal is not just to build a boat, but to learn how traditional wooden boats are put together, so I can maintain a larger wooden boat, such as the Blue Moon.

I have absolutely nothing against modern techniques like stitch and glue, but building such a craft (as attractive as one seems as my deadline looms), would not help me understand traditional wooden boat construction.

But a fuller, more honest answer is that it's just plain fun to do something that is really, really hard. And make no mistake - traditional boat building is hard. So hard that Howard Chapelle famously said that every boat builder should have a 'moaning chair' that he can collapse into, moaning "How could I have been so stupid!", or other despairing phrases.

I actually haven't found much use for the proverbial moaning chair, but I do get much pleasurable use from my 'thinking chair'. And I certainly needed it yesterday, on Day 11 of my boat building marathon.

The 3M 101 arrived from Jamestown Distributors arrived on time and I quickly put it to use bedding the stem, keelson, and chine logs in Cabin Boy's bow.

Cabin Boy's graceful shape becomes apparent

photo jalmberg

I then bent the two chine logs into their notches in the forms, and screwed or clamped them in the stern, using the small blocks I'd attached to the forward side of the Station 4 form.

This is when I received a rude shock. At the back of the boat, the chine logs did not seem to line up correctly.

Photo #1 -- Major whoops? 

photo jalmberg

If you look at the upper right and left corners of the transom, you will see the ends of the chine logs sticking out on both sides. This is bad. And not just a little bad, but major league bad.

The correct place for the chine logs to end is just inside the transom... ideally, right in the corners of the transom. They must be inside because the planking needs to fit over the chine logs and attach directly to the sides of the transom. Obviously, that can't happen with the chine logs sticking so far out of their assigned place.

Now, I'm sure experience boat builders can diagnose the problem with one glance at the photo above, but even after taking this photo, I had to retire to my thinking chair for a good long time.

What was the problem?

Were the forms too wide? Is that why the chine logs were too far out?

Or did I cut the transom (my precious piece of solid mahogany!) too small?

Or perhaps the transom was not in the right place. Maybe if I moved it back a bit, the lines of the chines would converge correctly... but that meant I'd have to scarf additional lengths onto the chine logs and keelson. Why had I cut them off with such flair and confidence?

In other words, how could I have been so stupid!?!?  (Okay, so for just a teensy moment, my thinking chair turned into a moaning chair.)

For any of these problems to be the cause, one or more of my measurements would have to be way off, I thought. So I got up out of my thinking chair and started checking various measurements against the lofting.

First, I verified that the length of the keelson was correct to within a 1/4". So transom was in the right position. I would not have to learn scarfing today (big phew!!!)

And the width of the Station 4 form was also correct. As were all the other station widths.

And the width of the transom was correct, as well!

In fact, all the measurements were correct. So why didn't the chine logs line up properly?

I wish I'd actually looked at Photo #1, because the problem is acutely obvious in the photo (which I didn't really see until I sat down to write this blog), whereas it was not so obvious to the naked eye.

But after a few more minutes in my thinking chair, I came up with a theory. What if I moved the blocks that secured the chine logs to the form from the front of the form to the back of the form? Would that make any difference?

Photo #2 -- Disaster averted

photo jalmberg

Indeed it did! If you study the two photos above, you will see that in Photo 1, the clamps on the forward side of Station 4 actually bent the ends of the chine logs outwards.

Whereas, in Photo 2, the clamps on the aft side of Station 4 properly bend the ends of the chine logs inwards.

In Photo 1, the lines of the chine logs are really distorted... they should form a nice smooth curve from bow to stern, as they do in the Photo 2.

(BTW, I had to move the transom back an inch or so to make room for the port side chine, which still needs to be trimmed properly. That's why you can see a gap between the starboard chine log and the transom. But when the transom is correctly positioned, the chine logs and keelson fall exactly right on the transom.)

For the curious, here is a close up of the chine log clamp:

The chine log clamp needs to be hefty... lots of pressure on it.

photo jalmberg

So, phew! Disaster averted. And I call this fun? You bet I do. Not only was the problem itself an interesting puzzle, but finding the solution taught me to trust my lofting, and also reminded me to be much more sensitive to the lines of my boat. If I had just looked at the lines of the chine logs, I would have seen how far they were being bent out of line.

They don't call them 'fair lines' for nothing. If they look right, they probably are right. If they look bent and tortured, they are definitely wrong.

Would it have been faster to build a boat without these blasted chine logs? Sure!

Would I have learned as much as I did if I hadn't had to solve this difficult problem? Definitely not!

And what do I call the intense feeling of satisfaction that I got from solving this problem?

You got it: fun!

>>> Next Episode: Seeing DNA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

VIDEO OF THE DAY

I met Helena rowing (I was her rowing coach), and we both still love rowing. Unfortunately, it's hard to do here in winter. At least I thought it was, until I saw this video... Ideas, ideas, ideas...

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-- John

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Bulwarks à la Buehler

One of the nice features of the Tom Glimer Blue Moon is the raised deck amidships. It gives the boat great strength, lovely wide side decks, and lots of room below decks (for a 23' boat.)

I don't know what Tom specified on the original plans (I need to buy a set from the Wooden Boat store), but this particular Blue Moon has flush decks, right to the edge of the boat. Not even a toe-rail. While this keeps her lines clean, I like to have a little something between me and the deep-blue sea as I'm crawling up to the foredeck.

My Blue Moon... Raised deck amidships, no toe rail.

Several Blue Moons have been built with full-length bulwarks, notably the stunningly beautiful one below, which Larry Pardey had a hand in building. Notice the Serafin influence (full length raised deck, deckbox for gravity-fed water, raised seats in the stern, and the port holes in the bow (always loved that idea.)

Pardey-influenced Blue Moon

I liked the idea of full length bulwarks, but the Blue Moon has such a sheer that it will be a big job to get them to fit properly without severe edge set. So as a temporary measure, I decided to just add them to the raised-deck section. I think they'll look okay for my voyage, and it will be an easy matter to unbolt the short sections and replace them with full length bulwarks when I have more time.

That's one of the great things about wooden boats. You can change them. Wow, what a concept!

I decided to use George Buehler's "Bulwark System 1", as discussed on page 151 of his Buehler's Backyard Boatbuilding. With this simple system, you bolt steel brackets to the deck every 2-4 feet, and then bolt a plank to these brackets for the bulwark.

Bulwark bracket, ala Buehler
photo jalmberg

George recommends 3/16" thick, 3" steel angle for the brackets. This is heavy duty stuff, so don't even think about cutting it yourself. I got these cut by Steve at Fleisher Tube here on Long Island, for like $5 each.

Oddly enough, the 5/16" holes in the bracket are more expensive than the steel itself, so I drilled the holes myself, using a friend's drill press.

I finally get to use what I learned in 7th grade metal shop
photo jalmberg

Drilling the holes is easy if you have a good drill bit and if you clamp the bracket to the bed of the drill press. You don't want that baby flying around on the end of your drill! Just mark your holes, make a dent at each location with a metal punch, and put a drop of oil in the dent before drilling. Easy-peasy.

Then I had Gary from Master Weld in East Northport weld a 3/4" inside diameter steel pipe coupling to half the brackets. Make sure the coupling is smooth on the outside... the rough ones are cast steel and are not strong enough, according to Gary.

Bracket with lifeline stanchion base welded on

photo jalmberg

When you are done, you have a combination bulwark bracket and lifeline stanchion base. These babies are incredibly strong. Just screw in a 3/4" steel pipe, run a steel wire through the top, and you've got lifelines you can bet your life on.

It's hard/expensive to get steel galvanized in this day and age, so Steve recommended having these brackets 'metalized' and 'powder coated'. This is a faily low-cost solution that sounds pretty effective, so I'm hoping I have time to have this done before I leave. Otherwise, I'll have to slap a coat of Rustoleum on them till I have time to redo them in the summer.

I am working on Cabin Boy's planking at the moment, and hope to have some pics of that tomorrow.

>>> Next Episode: Easy is Overrated

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-- John

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Make Mistakes Slowly

There's a woodworking adage that goes something like this: "Every one makes mistakes. The difference between a beginner and the Master Craftsman is the Master Craftsman knows how to fix his mistakes."

Master woodworkers, circa 1300 BCE

painter unknown

No doubt this is true, but on the long road that leads to Master Craftsmanship, I am still on the 'on' ramp. So I've come up with my own adage: "Make Mistakes Slowly".

I was reminded of this Truth while I was carving the stem-keelson-chine joint on Cabin Boy, on this Day 12 of my boat-building marathon.

(For those keeping track of the days, my blog is now running several days behind the actual build... Build or blog? Build or Blog? I've had to focus on building, but will catch up on the blog on a 'Tape Delayed' basis.)

Stem-keelson joints, without chines

photo jalmberg

In theory, this joint is relatively simple: it just needs to accept the square end of the chine log. However, the oak chine log bends and twists its way from the last notch in the form into the joint, so the joint must be cut at just the right angle.

The only way I could cut this joint was by slowly carving it into the stem and keelson with a sharp chisel. Shave, by thin shave. Testing my progress every minute or two with the chine fid.

Interestingly, as the cut got deeper and deeper, I gradually realized that I had the angle off by a few degrees. Not a lot... maybe 5 degrees. But those 5 degrees were important. If I kept cutting at that angle, the lower edge of the chine log would have stuck out of the joint, instead of snugly nestling into the joint. A big mistake!

It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I could see it developing before my eyes, and had plenty time to imagine and anticipate the result: blood, tears, gnashing of teeth (and I'm not kidding about the blood... I've got more nicks on my hands than on the wood.)

But, since this mistake was developing shave by slow shave, I had time to change course and avert the disaster. Instead of ending up with two pieces of scrap wood, I ended up with a perfect joint (well, perfect-ish).

This, it seems to me, is one of the true benefits of hand-tools vs. power-tools. I have had the same mid-cut sense of impending disaster using power tools, but it only lasts a moment... The next moment, it is too late. The mistake is made, and now fixing it is much harder.

In the hands of a Master Craftsman, I'm sure power tools are a huge time saver. But for duffers like me, they are only short-cuts to disaster. For now, I'm going to keep making my mistakes in slow motion.

And speaking of slow motion, on this Day 12, I cut the other side of the stem-keelson-chine joint today and and was hoping I'd be able to bed and screw all the bits together today. But I ran into two problems.

Stem-keelson joints, without chines

photo jalmberg

At the moment, the stem and keelson are only loosely joined by the long bronze bolt. That little gap between the end of the keelson and stem will close up when properly tightened.

However, notice the tip of the triangular piece, on the opposite side of the keelson, is chipped off. This did not happen in slow motion. One moment, it was there, the next it was gone. I may have been careless, but upon further inspection, I believe there was a small flaw in the oak that created a weak spot... notice how it chipped with the grain. However, I don't think this little chip is structurally significant, so I'll just squeeze a little more bedding compound in there, and pretend it never happened.

Screws in wax

photo jalmberg

Two things are going to hold all these bits together: silicon bronze screws and 3M 101 bedding compound.

I read in several places that screws should be waxed before being driven into their pre-drilled, and counter-sunk holes. I can't find the reference at the moment, but one of the boat building masters suggested the perfect wax for this job: the wax seal for a toilet bowl. If anyone knows where this suggestion came from, let me know and I'll give credit where credit is due.

Not only does the wax make the screws easier to screw in, but it holds them in the 'ready-to-go' position, nicely.

3M 101 Sealant

photo jalmberg

Since oak and epoxy do not get along, I need some old-fashioned bedding compound in these joints. There are several to choose from, but I decided to go with 3M 101, based on a number of recommendations.

Unfortunately, this blasted tube brought my assembly process to a screeching halt. I bought it off the shelf at a local chandlery, but apparently they don't get many wooden boat builders. It was old and dried out and impossible to pump out of the tube. Curses!

Being a small businessman myself, I normally like to shop locally, but from now on, I'm going to stick with the pros. In particular, I would like to give a shout-out to Jamestown Distributors. Experienced boat builders already know about them, but for newbies wondering where to buy stuff, I can't recommend them highly enough. Good selection, prices, customer service, and -- most important for cases like this -- fast shipping. I generally get delivery from them in 1-2 days, using UPS Ground. A big help when you need something fast.

Anyway, stymied in my effort to close off the stem-keelson-chine joint, I decided to tackle the next problem... how to hold the other end of the chine in the notches, so I can plank over it.

The aft end of the chine is NOT attached to the transom. It just butts up against it. So you need something to hold the chines in place. Note below, I wrastled it into place with a bit of rope, but that's not good enough. I can't plank over the rope.

Bending the chine log into its notches with the help of some rope

photo jalmberg

My boat-building friend Roger gave me the perfect solution. I'm not sure what its called, but it is basically a small block of wood screwed onto the side of the form, next to the notch. Notice the hole bored into the block. This hole needs to be big enough to push a #8 screw through from the 'inside' of the boat. This screw will screw into the inside of the chine and pull it into the notch.

It will also attach the boat to the forms, so the screw must be removed before the boat is taken off the forms...

We'll see if I remember to do that...

Chine-holding block

photo jalmberg

And that was Day 12. I doubt the 3M 101 will arrive from RI by tomorrow, so I'll probably move on to lining off the hull while I wait for it.

If you have your own favorite distributors of boat parts, feel free to give your own shout outs in the comments section, below. This is one of the big problems for newbies, so the more information, the better.

>>> Next Episode: Bulwarks à la Buehler

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Chine Logs

I knew it might come down to this: Build or Blog? Build or Blog?

So, for the last two day's I've been building, with no time to blog. The cause for all this concentration is the hardest thing I've run into, yet: letting the chine log into the forms. Whoever said there are no straight lines, no right angles on a boat, sure was right!


Well, I started off by making a 'fid' for the chine log. A fid is basically a small piece of wood that it just about the same size as the piece you need to fit, only shorter.

In this case, instead of wrestling with an 8' piece of oak, I used a 3" piece.

This is important, because fitting these chines is largely a matter of trial and error, until the dang thing fits.

And 'dang' isn't the word that I've been using for the last two days, in case you were wondering.

Note how the top edge of the fid sticks up above the bottom. This is very important! It is the *inside* top edge of the fid that must line up with the top of the form.

The outside top edge of the chine log will be planed off, so it is even with the bottom. That way, the bottom planking will lie flat on the chinelog.

A Fid Makes Fitting Easier

jalmberg

Once I got the rough outline sketched out on the form, I carefully chiseled it out, repeatedly trying the fid in place, to see if I was getting it right. I imagine there is a more scientific way to do this... in fact, I'm almost afraid to read Greg Roselle's book right now, because I'm afraid to find a simple trick that could have saved me hours of work.

Better leave that till when I'm not holding a sharp instrument.

 

Slow and careful is the trick

jalmberg

The photo below show's something important... probably the most important thing on this page: it is the *inside* top edge of the fid that must line up with the top of the form, as mentioned above.

The Fid Fits

jalmberg

Then it was time to tackle the stem/keelson/chinelog joint. This was such a difficult job that I forgot to take photographs. I'll take more detailed pictures of this joint when I take it apart before bedding all the pieces with bedding compound.

Besides, if I tried to discuss it tonight, I'd probably have a break down. I'll just say that there isn't a single right angle in that joint... A whole bunch of odd angles that somehow come together if you have enough patience, and a nice sharp chisel.

Whew!

A Most Complicated Joint!

jalmberg

Here's what the chine log looks like before being bent into the notches on the forms.

Chine log before bending

jalmberg

Helena and cat are occupying the Moaning Chair, to keep me working, I think!

Well, more pictures than scintillating prose today, but sometimes you get to blog, and sometimes you get to build.

And sometimes (not quite enough, lately) you get to sleep...

>>> Next Episode: Make Mistakes Slowly

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I hope you're enjoying "The Unlikely Boat Builder" as much as I enjoy writing it. Some people have asked for a way to be notified automatically when I post new episodes. I've figured out how to do this, so if you'd like to be notified, please click on the link below. I promise I'll never spam you (and Google will have my head if I do.)

Thanks for your interest!

-- John

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