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Minggu, 20 Maret 2016

Boat Blind Plans


LIKE MOST PEOPLE who have gotten used to traveling slowly in sailboats, I have often been angered by the irresponsibility of powerboaters who drag large, dangerous wakes behind them.

Let me say straight away that this is not a rant against powerboaters per se. There are considerate powerboaters and inconsiderate ones, and while I’m quite sure the former vastly outnumber the latter, the memories of the latter are what stick in my mind.

I’ll never forget something Robert Hale, of Seattle, once wrote. He was the former respected publisher of the annual Waggoner Cruising Guide for the waters of the Pacific Northwest of the USA. In the 2003 edition he wrote:

“Shortly after going from sail to power, I came to understand what I call the First Rule of Powerboating: Never Look Back.

“Because, if we powerboat skippers would look back, we would be appalled at what we do to other boats.”

Coming from a powerboater, that was a very honest and refreshing statement. It actually inspired me to invent a curse for sailors to use when faced with enormous wakes that inconvenience other boats and even threaten to capsize or swamp smaller vessels.

It’s a curse that might help you to vent your fury harmlessly in circumstances where you might otherwise be tempted to reach for your rifle and let Nature take its course. This, in fact, is one of four examples in a chapter devoted to curses in my book How to Rename your Boat — and 19 Other Useful Ceremonies, Superstitions, Prayers, Rituals, and Curses.

This is what I wish for the powerboat wash-hogs, or PAFIs as I call them.*

A CURSE FOR LEAVING A LARGE WAKE

Woe to you, thou beslubbering speedhog!

May your filters choke and your injectors freeze.

May every ill befalling a boat bring you to your knees.

May you run out of whisky, and ice cubes, too.

May there be no more pleasure for you or your crew.

May all your bronze tarnish and your varnish all flake.

May your batteries die and your propellers shake.

May your anchors drag and your bilges overflow.

May you rot in a hell where they make you go slow.

Curse you! Curse you! My curse be upon you wherever you go!

*Power Assisted F...ing Idiots 

Today’s Thought

I sent down to the rum mill on the corner and hired an artist by the week to sit up nights and curse that stranger.

— Mark Twain, A Mysterious Visit

Tailpiece

It’s too bad that by the time we get old enough not to care what anybody says about us, nobody’s saying anything about us.


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Selasa, 15 Maret 2016

Boat Plans Building


So the skegs are mounted, but the carriage bolt countersinks are still there.  Lets fix that.

I bought a hardwood dowel of the same diameter as my countersink holes.  Happily, the grain ran crossways the length of the dowel, making sweet little plugs when I cut little coins off the end.

A story in pictures.
















So glad to be done with the skegs. Heres how the process left me feeling...



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Jumat, 11 Maret 2016

Boat Plans Butler




IT’S NOVEMBER. The last of the spiders are drifting off on their silken threads, the air is cooling rapidly, and fog is creeping into the coves and straits overnight. Fog is dangerous for boaters who lack radar, as most of us do. Fog is especially frightening when you are caught out on a passage. What advice do I have?

Well, frankly, there isn’t much advice to give about getting caught in fog that isn’t covered by common sense. I mean, if you see a fog bank forming ahead, and you have a chance to turn back to a safe anchorage, do so. It’s the seamanlike action to take. Otherwise, you’re stuck with it.

Fog is treacherous. Go slowly and listen very carefully. If fog catches you out, try to get into shallow water and anchor there. Oftentimes that’s easier said than done, of course.

You should raise a radar reflector as high as you can, so other vessels with radar sets will see you. And you should be meticulous about making the right sound signal every two minutes or less. I have noticed that too many skippers are very lax about this. I have even traveled on a Washington State ferry that made no sound signals in thick fog, presumably relying on radar and AIS and clearance from Seattle Traffic Control, which can’t possibly tell the ferry if a small craft, invisible to radar, is in its path. There’s no warning for a small craft in the path of the ferry, either.

If you’re sailing, the correct signal is one long blast and two short blasts. That’s also the signal by a vessel not under command, or restricted by her ability to maneuver. The same signal comes from a vessel engaged in fishing, or towing or pushing another vessel.

If you’re under power, the fog signal (and the signal in any kind of restricted visibility, by the way) is one long blast every two minutes or less.

And one last tip — take along a horn that you can blow into. The fog horns that work off cans of compressed air don’t always work. I can vouch for that. I can also tell you that blowing the damn horn as loud as you can every two minutes is a pain in the you-know-what. You can’t go anywhere or do anything that lasts more than one minute, fifty-nine seconds. It puffs your cheeks out and raises your blood pressure. It makes you dizzy and produces black spots before your eyes. But it’s better than being run down at sea. So do it.

Today’s Thought

He that bringeth himself into needless dangers dieth the devil’s martyr.

— Thomas Fuller, Holy War

Tailpiece

“I’ve found out why production has slowed down since you got that second computer.”

“Good. What’s wrong?”

“The big computer’s shoving all the work on to the little computer.”


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Minggu, 06 Maret 2016

Boat Plans Bolger


AFTER PAINTING TWO BOATS with twin-pack polyurethane paint, I thought I knew all about polyester urethanes. I was wrong.

After I had finished the second boat, the surveyor came along. Tap, tap, tap, he went, all over the hull and decks of my sweet little 22-foot Santana.

He approached me with a long face. “Bad news,” he said, “your deck is delaminating.”

“What?” I cried. “Impossible. I’ve just been all over it. Sanded it. Painted it. There was nothing wrong with it.”

“Come and listen,” he said. He tapped the deck and it made that sickening dull thud, instead of a nice bright ring.

“Omigod,” I said.

There was no doubt about it. Something was badly amiss. We pondered it together, and eventually I decided there was nothing to lose.

I took a sharp knife and cut into the deck. I pulled back a strip. It was all paint. The deck underneath was as solid as ever.

“The paint hasn’t stuck,” the surveyor said. “How did you do this?”

I told him I’d sanded down the old deck paint. I applied a coat of Interlux epoxy primer. Then, having run out of that particular paint on the weekend, I grabbed some more epoxy primer from my nearest Ace Hardware store, and applied that. Before it cured, I sprinkled sand over it, 30-grit sand from a local builder’s yard. When the epoxy dried, I brushed off the excess sand lying on top with a soft brush.

Then I painted on two coats of Interlux twin-pack polyurethane. The result was magnificent. Better than new. Much better. Until the surveyor came along.

We poked around the deck some more and found that we could peel the new deck off by hand. Large chunks of  it came away as we togged. The epoxy and polyurethane and sand had formed a thick pliable skin — but it was not attached to the old deck. Underneath this skin, and on top of the old deck, was a sweet-smelling layer of some kind of liquid chemical.

“Aha,” said the surveyor, who was a smart man. “Incompatible epoxies.” He explained that the Interlux epoxy and the Ace Hardware epoxy had not liked each other. They had not got on well together at all. One of the other had revolted and formed this liquid layer that had prevented the top layers from sticking to the deck.

So I pulled off the new layer of deck paint like you’d peel the skin off a banana, scrubbed the whole deck down with acetone, and started again, this time with two epoxy coats from Interlux. And this time it worked. But it was a hard way to learn that different epoxies hate each other so much. I always thought epoxy was epoxy. Anyway, for someone who thought he knew all about twin-pack polyurethane, it was a humbling lesson.

Today’s Thought
Good painting is like good cooking: it can be tasted, but not explained.
— Vlaminck, On Painting

Tailpiece
“Johnny, who was the roundest knight at the Round Table of King Arthur?”
“Sir Cumference, sir.”
“Very good. And how did he achieve his great size?”
“From too much pi, sir.”


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Jumat, 26 Februari 2016

Boat Plans Butler


I had to turn 14 foot pieces of lumber into 16 foot lengths for the bottom skegs. To do this we use a scarf joint. According to wikipedia:

The joint is formed by cutting opposing tapered ends on each member which are then fitted together. When working with wood, this gives better long grain to long grain gluing surface, which yields a stronger joint than would be achieved with a simple butt joint. The tapers are generally cut at an angle between 1:8 to 1:10. The ends of a plain scarf are feathered to a fine point which aids in the obscuring of the joint in the finished work.
Okay, so were going to cut the ends at a diagonal, fasten them together with adhesive, then sand down the rough parts until it looks like it never happened.


I made the first cut with the circular saw and finished with a handsaw. It was alright, but not as easy or as precise as if Id had a good mitre box and sharp handsaw.


Then we got out the gooey fiberglass resin and adhered the pieces together.  At this point, it looks like a pretty righteous mess.


After it sets, out comes the belt sander.


And at this point the scarf joint is almost invisible.


The plans called for rounding the aft ends of the skegs to a point.  Here its looking good, and Im starting to have a bit more confidence in these things.


Next, we drill the bolt holes for the skegs and finish them.


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Kamis, 25 Februari 2016

Boat Plans Bartender


Here we drill all sorts of holes in our newly made skegs and finish them.

You know, it really helps to have the right tools. And you know what helps having the right tools? Money. I dont got none of that, so I have to make do with the tools I have. And sometimes that is a ridiculous process.


Here I am trying to level my handheld power drill in a slightly broken garage sale drill press with a bit that isnt quite long enough to go through the piece.

I have to drill bolt holes in the skegs. Then I have to drill through the newly fiberglassed and sealed hull to insert the bolts through structural members in the frame.


First I drilled a countersink to hide the head of the carriage bolts, then a hole through the skeg.



I placed the skegs in position on the hull, and then used a long bit to drill through the skeg into the hull and into the structural member of the boat.



Then I went under the boat and countersunk all the receiving ends of the bolt holes.


Actually, Im lying. But thats probably how I would do it now if I did it again. I doubted the accuracy of drilling down into the hull from above, so I marked the desired hole locations under the boat and drilled up. Then I marked the locations of the actual holes on the skegs. Then I took the skegs into the barn and used my sketchy drill press to drill the bolt holes in the skegs.

After all this stressful drilling, I finished the skegs with stain and a couple of coats of UV blocking polyurethane.



Next we install the skegs in the hull. Not once, but twice. Ahem.

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Boat Blind Plans


When we built punk rafts and floated several big rivers, we powered the rafts with canoe paddles and our own arms.  Though the big innertubes that floated the rafts provided so much flotation, they drew no more than a few inches of water, it was still like pushing a truck.  After a long day of avoiding Swirlies (eddies) and River Sharks (snags), we were exhausted.


Since the raft had no keel or centerboard, it had nothing to provide lateral stability.  So when we were going forward, we had to synchronize our rowing or else wed be zigging and zagging all over the water, which we did plenty of anyway.


As an aside, having no keel did have one advantage:  We could rotate on a dime. So for example, avoiding an object in the water dead ahead, the Caller might call, "Okay, give me one easy backward stroke," while paddling forward herself to pivot the raft toward the hazard.  Then shed call, "Okay, now give me three strong backward strokes," to put the raft out of the way of the snag. Facing the hazard forward thusly, we could always push off if we hadnt rowed fast or strong enough.

In short, it was a big pain.  And exhausting if we had to row any distance, for instance in still water.


The plans for the shantyboat have long skegs (sorta like double keels) that run the length of the bottom of the hull. This gives the boat lateral stability when it is powered and keeps it from skipping all over the water when the boat is turned.

While it really didnt seem like a big deal to make and install the skegs on the finished hull, it turned out to be a bit of a long process.  Heres why:
  1. The skegs had to be made out of a rot resistant wood that turned out to be hard to find in the lengths I needed.
  2. I ended up having to splice board together to make adequate lengths.
  3. They had to be bolted through the beautiful hull Id just finished making watertight, and I was scared.
  4. I screwed up several times and had to redo stuff.
  5. I had inadequate tools for some of this work.
It sounds like Im making excuses, but it feels more like:  "Haha, look how dumb I am, yet I still got it done."


The plans called for any of a variety of woods, none of which the local lumber yard had in anything approaching the lengths I needed.  White Oak, Yellow Cedar, Port Orford Cedar, a few other ones that are found on the East Coast. Ideally, I was looking for 16 foot lengths. But these are increasingly rare hardwoods that simply dont come in those lengths.

I found a specialty hardwood vendor only a half hour away. They had the Port Orford Cedar and what they called Alaskan Yellow Cedar. Neither of these are actually cedar, but are cypress. For you botany nerds, Port Orford cedar is officially known as Lawson cedar or Chamaecyparis lawsoniana. Alaskan yellow cedar is Cupressus nootkatensis.


Of those, the longest they had was 14 foot lengths. A conversation with the hardwood dealer goes like this:
"Can you get either of these trees in sixteen foot lengths?"

"We get what we get."

"I mean do you ever get 16 foot lengths? Can you order that length?"

"We get what they bring us."
O-kay.  That didnt sound too hopeful.  I knew if I had to, I could splice a longer length together.  There was lots of frantic maths at the lumberyard trying to see what lengths gave me the most efficient use of wood.  While still expensive, the Port Orford cedar was half the price of yellow cedar, so that decided it.


This was expensive wood, so I wanted to make sure I got the best use out of it. I had to use the cedar for the bottom skegs, the fore skegs, the trim boards along the bottom side, and the edge boards all around the top edge. So I created a cut plan so that every bit of the wood was put to use.


Then I spent days cutting and ripping and making lots of sawdust, sure that every cut I made was going to render this expensive piece of wood unusable.

Next well talk about the splice that turned four shorter pieces of wood into two long 16 foot skegs.


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Boat Trailer Plans Australia


Timeline: Less than a week before the boat flip! The trailer needs several repair welds to make it safe. The clock is ticking.

I got a recommendation for a welder from the same awesome friend at the lumberyard who sold me the skids. I called the guy on an odd Thursday that I was playing hooky from work, a week before the planned boat flip. He said "Are you there now? Im just up the road from you."

A few minutes later, he roared in on his Harley chopper, wearing an orange jumpsuit with reflective stripes like a tow truck driver. A big man, white hair in a crew cut, probably in late middle age, who looked like hed just gotten in a serious bar fight the day before and lost. He introduced himself as Matt and I didnt ask why he had a black eye.

I showed him the breaks on the center lateral crossbeam. He pointed out that there were breaks on both sides of the trailer, basically, in every place where the crossbeam was welded it was stressed and breaking. He noted that the two pairs of leaf springs met at an arm welded to that crossbeam and that it took a lot of stress.

He said itd be no problem doing the repair welds, but that what he recommended was replacing that crossbeam.  I said, "Now, its beginning to sound expensive."

"Nah," he dismissed it, "I can flip the trailer with the crane on my truck, cut out the crossbeam, weld in a new one, and flip it back. Probably take no more than a hour. I think thats eighth inch. I think I have some quarter inch square stock on my pile at home."

I was still reeling from all this for a while. No more than an hour? Any one of the steps he mentioned I guessed would take me all day... if I had the proper equipment, which I didnt. We made a date for the following Tuesday.

I imagined that hed have one of those sad little cherry pickers on the back of a beefy pickup.  I hoped it wouldnt be too laborious and that hed not too badly underestimated the job.


I was at the boat site on Tuesday when he pulled in with his gianormous truck.  Like Santa, he said not a word, but went straight to his work.


The crane was no cherry picker, but a proper crane with a fancy remote control that Matt deftly wielded.  When hed said hed pick up the trailer to flip it, he meant it. Up it went, easy as pie, this enormous 20 foot behemoth tossed around like a toy.

His truck was like Santas magic sack. He had attachments for household current, compressed air, arc voltage, everything he needed with hoses and cords all neatly coiled on hooks in back.


He flipped it over and immediately started cutting out the center crossbeam (visible in the photos above as a thick black line running between the axles) with a nifty plasma cutter that made my cutting torch blush with envy.


He used the crane to lift while he cut. This took a few minutes or so, with a few sticky parts where the crossbeam was welded better in some places. He mentioned that he was surprised it had lasted as long as it did.

Within minutes he had the old crossbeam out and was cutting the new one to size with a giant chopsaw. I helped him maneuver it into place and he began welding it immediately.  His welds were like beautiful marzipan. They were flawless and elegant.


As he finished a section, Id attack it with a wire brush and coat the still warm weld with Rust-Oleum.


Having the trailer upside down would have made painting the underside considerably easier. I did use the opportunity to hit any rusted metal Id missed.

Not content to simple fix the suspension, Matt went over the whole trailer, fixing places on the underside where the trailer was inadequately welded or the original builder had simply failed to weld.

He concentrated for a while on the area where the tongue of the trailer attached to the rest of the trailer: None of the members there has been welded on the underside. "Considering this is where the trailer attaches to the truck, this seems pretty important," Matt said.

When he was all done, the trailer was not simply repaired, but better than it had been when it was constructed. Matt charged me so little for the work, I was little embarrassed. Would that cover the diesel for his truck, the welding sticks he used, the time he made available for me? I hoped so, because he seemed like a really nice guy.

He deftly picked up the trailer and flipped it back over and was on his way.


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