Scribing

I am feeling a bit like Health Care Reform... I keep setting deadlines that keep getting pushed back because complicated things take longer than you think they do. But, right or wrong, even complicated things get done eventually, if you keep working at them.

My deadline is to get back to Florida so I can sail the Blue Moon back to New York. I'd actually hoped to be back by spring (ha!), but another little boat -- Cabin Boy -- has been keeping me busy.

More sane people would have given up and bought a cheap plastic boat for the journey, but somehow it just wouldn't feel right to exclude Cabin Boy from the trip. After all, he's more or less responsible for it, since I doubt I would have had the nerve to buy a big(ish) wooden boat without the experienced laid up by building this little skiff.

Anyway, the proper subtitle to "The Voyage Home" will be "Cabin Boy's Big Adventure", so I am pressing to finish him. In fact, I've become a full time boat builder... if you call working 12 hours a day 'full time'.

Helena and I are committed to tying Cabin Boy to the roof of our old Jeep this Friday morning, so this week's blogs will be short on text, but with interesting pictures. As usual, the blog is running behind the build, so will also try to catch up.

So, without further ado...

First, it was time to flip Cabin Boy over and work on the interior.

Off the forms, at last

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All that in the bow is epoxy smear. It's just discoloration... i.e., it isn't as bad as it looks, but the next time I build a boat, no epoxy!

The next thing to do was to fit the 8 ribs that stiffen the sides and that will eventually hold the seats up.

 Rib blanks clamped into place

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It's hard to tell from the photo, but there is a small block, the same thickness as the chine log, clamped under the rib to keep the rib a the right angle.

Greg Rossel says to 'scribe' the cuts you need to fit the rib into the side. I had absolutely no idea how to do this. If I had more time, I'd entertain you with the goofy things I tried. Suffice to say they included tying to spile the chine log points onto the rib.

Spiling the points - don't try this at home!

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This actually sort of worked, but the snow would be falling before I finished them in this way.

Eventually, I came to my senses and tried to figure out how to 'scribe' the lines I needed. But try as I might, I could not do it accurately with my plain vanilla compass. The various adjusting knobs got in the way. What I needed was a foot extension. I made one out of a bent nail.

Compass Mark 1

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Actually, I had to try several nails before I found one that was 'just right', and the one I used was a bit longer and not bent at such a right angle... more like 45 degrees.

With the right tool, I was able to scribe the base of the rib.

Scribing the base (yes, it is dark outside!)

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Basically, you just hold the nail end of the compass on the floor, and the pencil end on the rib, keeping the nail and pencil vertically aligned, and just move the compass along the floor to draw the line. It takes a bit of practice, but easy-peasy.

Step 1 done

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A fairly close fit.

Not much harder is to scribe the chine log cutout.

Scribing the shape of the chine log onto the rib

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Again, I am just holding the compass for the photo. When actually scribing, you should hold the compass perpendicular to what you are scribing, or as close as possible. I always forget the details when that 10 second camera timer is ticking down!

If you click on the photo, you should be able to see the shape of the chine log penciled onto the rib.

One important point!!! Your compass must be set to the thickness of the chine log for this to work.

Chine log cut out

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Looks easy, right? Actually, this was the 7th rib I cut, not the first. The first one took over an hour and didn't fit particularly well. But I gradually got better at it, and this last one took about 15 minutes, from cutting out the blank, to sanded rib.

Practice makes perfect, as they say.

And here they are, all clamped on for show.

Ribs, clamped on for to show spacing and angles

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It's amazing how these ribs make the boat look hefty and substantial. I decided I'm going to paint the plywood, and just oil all the oak bits with linseed oil.

That's it for today! Tomorrow, breast hook and knees!

>>> Next Episode: Bits and Pieces

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Ready to Flip

Construction of Cabin Boy is now moving along briskly. Either I'm getting the hang of this, or I've gotten past the hard bits. Or maybe a little of both.

After getting the planks on, it was time to work on the bottom.

In the interest of finishing Cabin Boy as soon as possible, I decided to use 3/8" okoume marine plywood for the bottom, rather than the splined cross planks I'd originally planned on.

None of my boat building books explained how to do this, so I had to improvise. Here's what I did:

First, I laid the plywood sheet on the bottom of the boat. Cabin Boy's bottom curves a lot from fore to aft, so I weighed both ends down with a number of large art books. I always knew I'd find a use for those books.

Then I carefully traced the lines of the garboards and transom on the underside of the plywood.

I then used my jigsaw to cut out the bottom. I left 1/4" extra all around, just in case. Here's what I ended up with:

Cabin Boy's bottom, cut from 3/8" okoume

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I tried it on for size, and it fit perfectly. Note the books, fore and aft.

Trying on for size

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I'd planned to fasten the bottom with 3M 101 sealant, backed up by silicon bronze screws, but unfortunately, 3M has discontinued this old reliable product.

After doing a bit of research, I chose 3M 4200 as my bedding compound. This is similar to the popular 5200 sealant, but has much less bonding strength. This allows the sealant to remain flexible and removable.

I'm sure some people are thinking I should have epoxied the bottom, but I now have a bit of experience with both epoxy and flexible sealants, and it just seemed to me that the flexible sealant was a better solution for this big, critical joint.

Bottom line, if the joint starts leaking with the 4200 in it, I can fix it by removing the screws and prying the bottom off. If the epoxied joint had a problem, I'm not sure what I'd do. 

I laid down a nice thick bead all around the edge and with Helena's help, carefully positioned the bottom on the boat, and screwed it down.

Bottom attached with 3M 4200 bedding compound and silicon bronze screws

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I had some 4200 left over, so decided to fill the counter-sunk holes with it. Not sure if this is an approved use of the product, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. If it turns out to be a problem, I'll blog about it.

So, putting on the bottom turned out to be easy-peasy. Hardly any challenge at all.

I suddenly realized I was pretty vague about the next steps. Lucky for me, this weekend happened to be the Maine Boat Builder's Show, in Portland. It was a great opportunity to check out the 'competition' (and steal some ideas), so I headed on up.

The show was held in the Portland Company's large boat yard complex. You walked through room after room filled with boats, not to mention all the 'accessories' that make boating and banking practically synonymous.

Some of the many small boat builders at the show

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There were too many booths to take in on a one-day visit, but most catered to the push-button, luxury crowd, so I was able to focus on two missions:

• looking carefully at the 2 dozen or so small wooden boats that had been built by professionals
• visiting the booths of the several vendors who catered to the traditional boat builders

Many boat building schools showed off their student's handy work

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In inspecting the boats, I was particularly interested in 3 things:

• how the boats had been finished
• what the builder's had done with the gunwales, or top edge of the boat
• how the builder's had attached the thwarts, or seats

Linseed oil finish

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My favorite finish is just plain linseed oil. I like the natural, work boat type finish, and even like the way it turns black after a few years. This is how I had planned to finish Cabin Boy, when I still thought I'd plank him in Cedar with copper rivets. But I didn't think this would work too well with epoxy-smeared plywood. But next time, this is what I'm going to do. 

Two-tone paint

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My next favorite was a scheme I hadn't thought of: a two-tone combination, with a bit of bright work. Again, the result had the kind of no-nonsense, work-boat type look that I like. The bronze knees on the thwarts were a nice touch. I really like this boat.

One color, plus bright work

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Another one-color dory

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Almost as nice were the boats that were finished with one color, plus some bright work, like the two above.

An 'instant' boat, simply finished

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One boat I didn't particularly like was an 'instant' boat, finished all in white. The color, plus the lack of structural details like ribs or seat risers, made the boat look more like a fiberglass than a wooden boat.

Yes, I was born in the wrong century.

So, the show helped me decide how to finish Cabin Boy. I'm going to use a two-tone color scheme, with a bit of brightwork... probably the inwales, which will be made of oak and shouldn't take much abuse. And the mahogany transom, of course.

I also got some excellent ideas on how to build the gunwales, and seats. More on that later.

Finally, also of much interest were the few vendors who supplied traditional bits like bronze fittings (below), oars, rigging supplies, and rope that is meant to look and feel like traditional rope, but is made from modern materials.

A wide assortment of traditional bronze fittings were available from a number of vendors

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Eventually, I'd like to refit the Blue Moon with all bronze fittings and traditional lines and rigging.

That reminds me... I must go buy a lottery ticket.

So, a great show, and I was very impressed with Portland, itself. A nice city with a revitalized water front. Lots of restaurants, Irish pubs, and the young people who make them jump. Well worth a stop if you're cruising through the area.

Tomorrow, I flip Cabin Boy over!

>>> Next Episode: Scribing

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Planks and a Scarf

Lots of building, lots of progress, but no time to blog, lately!

I've been obsessing about getting all the planks onto Cabin Boy's too-long naked frames. I went as fast as possible, but it turned out to be very difficult to do more than one plank per day.

The reason? Lots of steps. For each pair of planks (one for each side), you need to:

1. Cut the rabbet in the starboard side of the stem.

2. Carve the hood end of the spiling batten so it fits perfectly into the garboard and into gain in the previous plank.

3. Cut out the other two pieces of the 3-part spiling batten

4. Tack all 3 pieces into place on the forms

5. Splice them together with epoxied gussets

6. Wait for the epoxy to dry

7. Spile the points onto the spiling batten

8. Carefully remove the spiling batten from the forms

9. Unspile the points on to a pattern board

10. Use long battens to connect the points, and get a nice smooth shape for the pattern

11. Cut the pattern out

12. Try the pattern out on the forms, to see if it fits without being edge set. If it doesn't fit, break open a Blue Moon beer and go back to step 3 (Argh!!!!)

13. Carefully remove the precious pattern from the forms

14. Trace the patten onto your expensive planking stock

15. Cut the plank out

16. Cut the gains into the plank

17. Wipe all the bits that will be epoxied with alcohol. This is supposed to make the epoxy stick better, particularly to oak.

18. Find a beautiful woman to hold other end of plank.

19. Mix up a batch of epoxy, with no thickeners

20. Quickly apply a light coat of epoxy to all the bits that will be fastened: the stem rabbet, the previous plan, the transom, the new plank... This allows the wood to soak up some epoxy.

21. Mix up a batch of thickened epoxy

22. Quickly apply the thickened epoxy to all edges to be glued (see 19)

23. Find out where beautiful woman has wandered off to, before epoxy dries too much.

24. Have beautiful woman hold transom end of plank while you fit the hood end into the rabbet and clamp the hood end in place

25. Work your way towards the back of the boat, using every clamp you can find. Make attentive, appreciative noises as you listen to story told by beautiful woman.

26. Drill counter-sunk holes (3) through hood end of plank into stem.

27. Screw silicon bronze screws (3) into hood end of plank

28. Drill counter-sunk holes (2) through transom end of plank into transom

29. Screw screws (2) into transom end of plank

30. Wipe excess glue off of inside and outside of plank.

31. Thank beautiful woman for the cold Blue Moon she's holding out to you.

32. Drink Blue Moon and admire your work

33. Let epoxy dry.

34. Next day, go to step 14 for Port side plank.

Whew! And this is the 'easy' method. I can only imagine what it would be like to cut the planks out of cedar and rivet them into place. That will have to wait for my next boat.

One interesting complication: The sheer plank was longer than my pattern stock, so I had to make my first scarf, in 1/8" luan plywood. It was pretty easy to do. The 12:1 scarf wasn't very long or very deep. I just used my little block plane to cut the scarfs free hand.

Then, I just glued them up, using a scrap of wood to spread the pressure. By the way, I'm told you don't want to use too much clamping pressure on epoxy joints.

This week, I also 'invented' a handy gadget that others might find useful. I didn't think of it until I was working on the very last plank, so didn't get as much use out of it as I could have. But next time...

When you are building a lapstrake boat, you need to mark the 'laps' on all the planks and all the gains. I decided to use a 3/4" lap for all my planks. That means I had to draw 16 lines on 8 planks, each line 3/4" in from the edge.

You can save yourself some trouble, and draw more accurate lines, if you make yourself a home-made lap guide, as shown in the picture above. The notch in the upper right hand end is 3/4" deep.

Once you've got your guide made, you just put it against the edge of the plank, hold your pencil against the guide, and move it along the edge. A perfect line, every time.

By the way, I should be holding the pencil at a lower angle. I try to hold the pencil so the sharpened side is flat against the side of the gauge. That's the easiest way to get a consistent line, I think.

So, after executing the above steps 8 times, and if your boat was designed by an artist like John Atkin, this is what you get. Beautiful!

Photographs just don't do justice to the graceful curves and twists in the planks as they swoop into Cabin Boy's stem. Wood -- even plywood -- is such an elegant material to work with.

And by the way, I didn't have to steam any of the planks. They bent into shape easily with fairly light clamping pressure.

Finally, it was time to plane down the edges of the garboard planks and chine logs, in preparation for putting on the bottom. The goal is to be able to lay a straight edge from one side of the boat to the other and have it lie flat on both sides.

This sounds harder than it is to do. I think these old, wooden planes know how to do the job, themselves. You just need to trust the tool and let it do it's thing.

So the next step is to put the bottom on. Yahoo!

But this weekend, I'm heading up to the Maine Boat Builder's show, in Portland. I should be there all day Saturday, so if you happen to be at the show that day, say hi! Should be a fun time!

>>> Next Episode: Ready to Flip

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Swedish Furled Foam

Cabin Boy's build is now proceeding smoothly... I'm perfecting my planking technique, but nothing to exciting to report, so I thought I'd take a bit of a diversion...

While finishing up Cabin Boy, I'm also preparing for my 2000 mile voyage on the Blue Moon.

One piece of Blue Moon equipment that desperately needed replacement was the bunk cushion. The old one was grungy, damp, and well past it's due date. I chucked it onto the garbage pile while I was down in Florida, and thought I'd just buy a replacement.

That was until I got a quote for $450! No way I was going to plunk down a King's ransom for a bit of foam. Surely I could make one myself for less? And -- more importantly -- learn a valuable new skill.

Luckily for me, my mom had given Helena her old Singer sewing machine. This machine dated back from the 60s and had all metal parts. It looked tough enough to sew a few layers of vinyl.

Only problem was, neither Helena or I had any idea how to use a sewing machine.

Luckily, you can download anything from the Internet, so I found the old user manual for the machine on the Singer site, sat down, and Read The Manual.

The machine needed a bit of cleaning, a good oiling, and a new drive belt, but once it was tuned up, and I'd figured out how to thread the needle and bobbin, I was off and running. As my mother said, anyone can learn how to use a sewing machine in a few minutes, and she was right.

I had ordered 4" firm foam from FoamByMail.com. They have quite a few choices, so I called up customer service for advice. I ended up buying the HD36 High Quality foam with Dacron Wrap for a bit over $100. It came by UPS in a few days. Here's what it looks like:

HD36 Foam with Dacron Wrap

The Dacron wrap is mainly for comfort, but I thought it would also make the foam a bit more moisture resistant.

For a cover, I ended up following the Pardey's advice and making a vinyl cover. The Pardey's use a vinyl cover for water proofing, and then add a cotton slip cover for comfort. I'll add the cotton cover at a later date. I bought 5 yards of very nice vinly for about $40 at a local fabric shop. It feels like leather. Nice!

I turned my living room into a lofting floor and cut out the 4 pieces: top, bottom, and two long strips that I'd butt together for the sides.

I planned on sewing the foam into the cover: no zipper, velcro, flaps, etc. The reason was simple: the friction between the dacron and the inside of the vinyl was about 50,000 lbs. No way you'd be able to pull the foam out of the cover, unless you had a big opening on the long side. If I ever need to remove the foam, I'll just take out the stitches on one side and re-sew.

Living Room Loft Floor

Once the pieces were cut out, I marked the sewing lines on the inside, using what sewing people call 'chalk', but what I would call wax. I left plenty of border to work with. After sewing, I trimmed it back to about 1/2"

Measuring and Marking the Sewing Lines

Then it was time to pin the pieces together and start sewing. This was pretty easy, at first...

Sewing the First Few Seams

But quickly got complicated as the mass of material being moved through the machine got bigger and heavier. But a heck of a lot easer than sanding Blue Moon's bottom!

It gets big and bulky, quickly!

Faster than I expected, I had all the seam sewn except for one on the short end, through which I intended to insert the foam.

One seam left open to receive the foam

Now, it would have been absolutely impossible to insert the foam full size. I'd cut the cover for a fairly snug fit, and the friction between the dacron cover and the inside of the vinyl was fierce.

If I hadn't thought of a trick, I would have left the long side open, which is probably what the commercial companies do.

However, while trying to figure out how to get the foam inside, I remembered something called Swedish Furling. I guess this is a knot the Swedes use to tie their furled sails up. (I'm of Swedish ancestry, but this is one fact that wasn't passed down from my great grandfather, so I'm assuming.)

You can find a how-to on how to tie this knot on the Internet, or in Brian Toss's book, but here's what it looked like applied to the foam:

Swedish Furled Foam

It's hard to tell from the picture, but the foam is probably 'furled' by about 30%. That makes the foam small enough to slide into the cover easily.

Of course, the trick is untying the foam after it is inside the cover. For that amazing trick, I've made a little video:

The family that builds together...

Just click on the video to play

Once the foam was inside, all that was left was to sew up the last seam by hand.

And, of course, to try it out.

Ahhhhh! A few hours work. Savings: approximately $300. And that's not counting the value of the now tuned-up sewing machine and the ability to use it for other projects.

Bottom line: if I can do it, anyone can. Definitely worth the effort. You can find one of these all metal Singer machines on eBay for under $100.

>>> Next Episode: Planks and a Scarf

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Over The Hump?

It's become something of a joke between Helena and me. More times than I want to remember, I've marched triumphantly up the stairs from my basement workshop and announced, "I'm over the hump! I've just finished what must be the hardest part of building this boat. It's all down hill from here! Yahoo!"

I said it when I finished lofting the plans, when I finally got up enough nerve to buy some 'real' wood, when I finally got up enough nerve to actually cut that 'real' wood, when I figured out how to mount Cabin Boy's stem and transom (oh, bitter irony!), when I figure out how to cut the stem rabbet, when I finally learned how to spell 'rabbet', etc., etc.

I said it again just last week, when I had both garboard planks bedded and fastened. "That was the hump," I announced. "Everyone says the garboards are the hardest part. It's all down hill from here! Yahoo!"

And who can blame me? Spiling those garboards really was hard. Such a complex shape and such a demanding technique. The rest of the planks looked simple in comparison. A slam-dunk, as intelligent people used to say.

 

I should have known better!

On my first attempt at spiling the second plank, I was so confident that I ignored my own advice and tried to spile the hood end, rather than using a pattern.

The Chutzpah of Hope

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I figured a little audacity was justified. I'd already mastered the art of spiling, after all. Why keep making hood-end patterns if you could spile them, instead? It was worth a try, I figured.

The result? Disaster, of course. After unspiling the points I ended up with a pattern for the second plank that didn't fit at all. Not even close!

No problem, I'd just do it again.

 

Second try, with humility...

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The second time, I carefully cut out a hood-end pattern, and made extra, extra sure that the batten wasn't edge-set. The formula was simple:

Perfect Technique = Perfect Pattern

But again, after unspiling the points, the resulting pattern fit like an unruly banana, curving in the wrong direction. Clearly, I was doing something wrong, but what?

After a long session in my 'thinking chair', I decided that the problem must have something to do with the angle of the batten. My narrow battens lay directly on the forms, whereas the full-size pattern lay on the beveled garboard.

  

 Shimming the spiling batten to the right angle

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My first thought was to use a kind of shim to 'tilt' the spiling batten to the right angle... But I lost faith in this approach even before finishing the shimming process. It was just too easy to twist the narrow luan plywood battens into the wrong shape. And once removed from the forms and laid flat on the pattern stock...

I was onto something with the shim idea, but the resulting shims + batten system was just too flimsy... I just knew it wasn't going to work...

But I suddenly knew what would work!

  

The secret to happy spiling -- wide battens!

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I tossed the narrow spiling batten into my kindling box, and cut out the widest 3-part spiling batten that would fit between the lap lines.

This spiling batten was wide enough to lay on the garboard bevel, just like the plank would have to. So the batten would lay on the forms at the same angle as the plank would. This angle, I reasoned (hoped?), was vital to accurate spiling.

Well, there was only one way to find out...

  

The unspiled, cutout pattern for the second plank

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Success! The unspiled pattern fit perfectly. It followed the laplines, both top and bottom, and lay flat on the forms, with no edge setting. 

Phew!

Once you have an accurate pattern, the rest is simple.

 

Second plank, with gains cut

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I traced the pattern onto my sheet of marine plywood, cut the plank out with a jigsaw, and remembered to cut the gains. I tried it on the forms, and it fit perfectly.

Suddenly, the three failed attempts at spiling this simple plank faded into distant memory. All that remained was that glorious, close fitting plank, glowing under the rich, warm basement lights. Was that a heavenly chorus singing it's praises? Or a Pringles jingle on the TV? No matter...

With the second row of planks screwed and glued, I climbed up the stairs and found Helena behind her piano.

"I'm finally over the hump," I mentioned casually. "It's all down hill from here."

"Yahoo!" she said, with a smile.

>>> Next Episode: Swedish Furled Foam

Get Notified Automatically

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Thanks for your interest!

-- John

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