www.talesfromtheboatshed.com

It’s too long since I last posted on this blog. Two months!

Somehow, the individual tiny steps don’t seem to merit a mention but, taken together, there’s a couple of strides’ worth of stuff to report.

The hog:

Having steamed the aft end of the hog, I took the hog to the loft floor, and marked it with all the reference lines I could think of: the station lines, where each mould will sit; the position of the centreboard slot; and the position of the timbers (ribs) that will be steamed in place once planking is completed.

It was now time to glue and screw the hog to the keel. With a series of blocks screwed to the strongback, the keel could be held perfectly straight; and some smaller scraps of wood were nailed onto the blocks so that the hog would be perfectly centred on the keel when butted up to them. Such careful preparation is essential because you cannot see pencil lines to judge accurate positioning when the glue is squeezing out. As our son James was told at Dartmouth Royal Navy College, ‘Prior preparation prevents piss poor performance!’

Sylvia and I did the glue up.

Once the glue had gone off, the blocks were removed and set up on the centreline of the strongback. With plywood ‘cheeks’ screwed in place, the keel and hog were firmly in place, and counterbored silicon-bronze screw fixings were fitted.

Transom knee:

The transom sits on the keel, and is held in place by the transom knee, which serves as a bracket. There are a number of ways to make this important knee: grown curved timber, lapped or bridle jointed pieces of wood or, as I chose, a laminated knee. The key is to have the grain matching or supporting the inner curve of the knee to give the necessary strength to this member of the boat’s centreline/backbone.

Holes were then drilled in the knee (and then through the deadwood and keel), and the knee was glued onto the hog with Semparoc 60 polyurethane glue. Having made some more 5mm copper nails, the knee was then nailed and roved, with Sylvia’s assistance.

Stem fixing:

With the hog glued and screwed, it was also time to fix the stem to the keel.

Sylvia and I then roved the copper nails that I had made, finishing the stem fixing.

Finally, the transom:

I mentioned the transom in my last post. This has been made from three pieces of Khaya mahogany, jointed together with 3mm marine plywood splines. These splines bridge the butt-jointed planks, running in grooves that I routed with a power router. Despite my apprehension that the router would pull off line, this step went very well, and a quick swipe with a Record plough plane finished the job nicely.

With the epoxy glue cleaned up, it was time to make my transom Mylar template from the lines of the transom expansion on my loft floor. (The transom expansion is the process of stretching the ‘height’ dimension of the transom, in order to account for the fact that it is raked, not plumb/vertical.)

Once the transom had been cut to shape, it was put in place, with a plywood jig positioned to hold the keel in place.

With the transom fitting nicely, I turned my attention to carving the boat’s name.

An aside:

While enjoying a break away in Bradford on Avon, I managed to finish a little project for my woodturning mentor and friend. I am delighted to hear from Richard that this sign has drawn in the punters to his recent craft stall events. Perhaps I should have asked for a percentage of the resulting increased sales!! (Just joking, Richard.)

We recently visited the Oak Fair at the Stock Gaylard Estate in Dorset. It is very traditional, predominantly woodcraft-related, and free of corporate tatt. One of the exhibitors, Bodden Cross Studios, was offering letter carving and woodturning courses.

I had been thinking that I might carve the name of the boat on her transom, so I took a leaflet and a few days later got in touch with Stephen Stokes, who has his studio near Shepton Mallett, and booked a day’s letter carving course.

We drove down on Monday, for a two night stay at the local Charlton House Hotel, and on Tuesday I spent a very enjoyable day with Stephen. While there are books and, no doubt, You Tube videos that one can try to learn from, nothing beats 1:1 tuition from an expert craftsman. Stephen soon had me carving Is and Cs and then we moved on to carving the boat’s name: ‘Mischief.’

Stephen is not only a good teacher, he is also a great raconteur. The time went all too fast but, by the end of the day, I had completed a practice run and started another – the M is especially tricky, as there are some fragile parts of the letter that can easily get chipped out.

I had planned to take the transom for this course, but ran out of time to have it ready. No matter, I can practice my letters before tackling the real deal.

The tools I need for letter carving arrived this morning, and I made myself a mallet yesterday, so I am good to go.

By the way, I am not taking commissions at present, though if you don’t mind a novice attempt, my arm is twistable. Anyway, I have a boat to build!

As mentioned in my previous post, the aft section of the keel and the integrated deadwood has some checks (splits), resulting from the seasoning (drying out) process.

Having pondered for some weeks, whether to simply use epoxy/other filler, or to do a formal repair, I finally resolved to do the latter. Firstly, because it will probably be more effective and longer lasting; secondly, because is a lot easier to do it now, rather than after I have attached the hog to the keel – let alone after I have planked the boat!

A Dutchman’s repair – or “Dutchman” for short – is also known as a Graving or Graving Piece, which again may be corrupted to “gravy bit.” Why have just one term, when a few synonyms will do?!

This technique is used to repair a defect due to rot, split, or a knot in the timber. A piece of matching wood is cut in a diamond or coffin shape, with a very fine bevel, then placed over the defect.

Here’s one I did earlier, during my IBTC course, repairing a defect in a keel, involving a knot. The knot extended right through the keel, so I did the repair on one side, and another student did t’other.

The current repair is smaller in extent and less complicated. However, there’s rather more at stake!

Generally, I eschew electric routers, because they are noisy and produce a lot of dust; and because they are not without risk – especially to the workpiece. However, for this job – cutting a shallow straight-sided flat-based groove – an electric router is otherwise the ideal tool. So, with careful planning and measuring; checking and re-checking the clamping and guide fence, I set about my dutchman repair(s).

It may be helpful, for those not familiar with the anatomy of wooden boats, if I describe some of the parts of what is called the centreline structure(s) – the backbone, if you like.

On a bigger boat, the deadwood – a wedge-shaped piece of wood that sits on top of the straight keel – is separate (viz dotted line), and attached to the keel. I have made the keel and deadwood in one piece – one less joint to fit and have exposed to the elements … and risk it opening up in future years!

I tried clamping the hog to the keel for well over a week, hoping to ‘dry bend’ it to the shape of the deadwood. However, when I took off the clamps, there was hardly any bend to the hog. So, I decided to apply some steam!

The structure of wood can be compared to a bunch of drinking straws, held together with glue. That ‘glue’ is lignin, and its property of softening with heat, making the timber pliable, allows woodworkers to bend wood to shapes it would otherwise not form without breaking. Direct heat from a fire has very largely been superseded by steam.

While I will need a steam box for the ribs, the foremost ends of planks and this rear section of the hog can be steamed using a plastic sleeve.

After 30 minutes (1 hour per inch thickness of timber, is the rule), Sylvia and I quickly clamped the hog in place, with a backing piece of plywood to protect the hog, and help prevent cupping (transverse curvature), which may occur with the wood in its relaxed state.

There is still a slight gap between keel and hog, an inch or so in from the end, but this should work out OK when I cut the hog back, to make room for the bottom edge of the transom.

Just visible on this view are some shallow checks (splits) in the deadwood, which I aim to formally repair, rather than just fill with epoxy/filler. I know, I’m not making a piano, but …

While I was waiting for the hog to ‘dry bend’ I took the stem to my bench, and cut the rabbet.

The rabbet is the recess in the stem into which the ends of the planks are seated. The lines that form the rabbet are shown below, and are derived during the lofting process, where the boat is drawn full-size on the floor.

The router work went better than I dared to hope. I re-drew the rabbet line and proceeded to chisel out the recess.

There is a risk that the bearding line might not be quite right, and one should make allowance by not cutting all the way back to the bearding line. This allows some ‘fat’ that can be trimmed off when fitting the planks. I think I have gone a bit closer to the bearding line than I should, but hopefully it will be ok – the students at IBTC have found that they have needed to extend the bearding line so … fingers crossed!

The final shape of the stem narrows to the front edge (a feature called the ‘cutwater’). I have left the stem square for now, as this will make clamping here easier when I come to doing the planking.

What’s next? Well, the timber for the transom and planking arrived safely, and those pieces that are too long for the garage are on the conservatory floor! I have started work on the transom, and am facing and edging some boards prior to ‘thicknessing’ them before jointing.

After some delay, the extra-long drill bits and silicon bronze screws required for the dinghy’s stem arrived. I drilled the holes for the locking screws and the copper nails, and then shaped the inner face.

With the inner face at its final shape, I needed to make blocks to facilitate clamping the joints tightly closed:

Yesterday, after a dry fit, with the nails up to, but not crossing the joint line, I applied Sikaflex EBT ( a filling/sealant/glue compound) to the joint surfaces, using the toothed side of a hacksaw blade to create a thin even layer on all mating surfaces..

The stem was then put back together, initially secured with the locking screws, and the clamps. The nails were driven home – cut-outs in the clamping blocks allowing for this.

I left it clamped up tight for 24 hours, to allow the Sikaflex to ‘cure.’ Today, I took off the clamps, and roved the nails, with assistance from Craig and Sylvia doing the ‘backing up.’

It was great to be using my homemade roving kit, to get the nails roved, and their ends peined over.

The stem joints were now secure. I checked the template on the stem once more, and cut the outside face of the stem, using the bandsaw and then spokeshave.

I had feared that the apex joint would not be as tight as it was in the dry fit. However, the extra time spent to get the clamping effective, was worthwhile. I am chuffed with the end result.

As I removed the clamps this morning I noticed, for the first time, the manufacturer’s name DAWN on one of the F clamps I have been using – it had been brought over to England from Australia by my Dad in 1962, shortly before I was born. I’d like to think he would approve of its use on this project.

The next job is to dry-fit the keel to the stem, and do the final shaping of the transom end of the keel. The wood for the transom and planking is scheduled to arrive this coming week.

In traditional boatbuilding copper nails and roves (washers) are used to make rivets, in order to fix the overlapping planks in clinker planking, and as fixings for the various parts of the structure of a boat. Before copper, iron nails were used, and the ‘clink, clink’ of iron nails being hammered home is said the to be the origin of the term clinker.

A copper nail is hammered through a pre-drilled hole, and a rove then hammered over it, using a rove punch, which has a hole drilled in its end to accommodate the nail. To prevent the nail being pushed backward, a metal ‘dolly’ is held against the head of the nail – this is generally a two-person job! Once the rove/washer is tight against the inside surface, the excess nail is snipped off just above the top of the rove. The ball end of a ball-pein hammer is then used to mushroom the end of the nail, over the rove/washer, thus forming a rivet. Again, a dolly is used to ensure that the head of the nail stays tight to the outside surface. The dolly has to be of sufficient weight to counteract the force of the hammer during roving (clenching down the washer) and peining over the nail.

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I have made myself a roving kit, using various sized pieces of mild steel. There are two roving punches, the central holes are sized for the two different diameters of nails I will be using. (I plan to ‘countersink the bored punch holes, to match the shape of the washers to be used.).

The dolly has to be of sufficient weight to counteract the force of the hammer during roving and peining over the nail.

Standard size copper nails are still available from a few suppliers. However, one cannot readily obtain the longer thicker nails required for the heavier fixings required to make the stem and fit the transom knee. So, I made a former and, using some 5mm copper rod, produced some home-made copper nails.

There’s a real joy to be found in making your own tools. Even when I have made the tool required to create a nice smooth crown to the rivet, I will have made this set for less than half the £120 retail price of a new set of roving tools.

Encircled by a branch of the river Brit, the Sawmill is a peaceful retreat … a bolt hole. The front door, with its heavy wooden bolt, is reached by a wooden bridge, and the cottage is flanked on one side by a tall stone wall that has perfect perches for the local kingfishers, and on the other by the the river bank, verdant green with ferns. Above the downstream corner of the mill, a tall tree casts dappled light on the velux windows above the bed on the mezzanine floor – the blinds are kept only partly closed, to enjoy the morning sun filtering through the leaves above. The ceiling here is so low, that even though Sylvia has to stoop, she sometimes bangs her head on the beams. The road from Bridport runs nearby, yet the sound of the traffic seems distant, trumped as it were by birdsong, and the chuckling of the stream.

Followers of this blog will recall that, last October, we visited the Sawmill, this tiny cottage in Beaminster. I had heard about it after contacting Judy Sorum Brown, the author of the inspirational poem “Wooden Boats.” Well, last week, we visited the sawmill again, and explored a bit more of the local area and the Jurassic coast in particular. Although some pubs seem to have given up the struggle with Covid, we nevertheless found some super places to eat … and drink.

We also got in contact with Judy, and had a Zoom call to share our news, together with Keith and Jill, the Sawmill’s owners. Judy in Michigan, and us in Dorset … we had a great chat. The conversation turned to lost loved ones and to family sayings, and Judy shared with us one of her recent poems, that distils thoughts, memories and emotions so beautifully:

Immortality

If there’s immortality
It’s in remembering—
The way he told me how
His dad insisted that he
Double tie his shoes.  
No tripping. So I do too. 
The way she quotes my mother
Whom she never knew:
“That will not do.”
The way we laugh
Recalling the one friend:
“Show up. Do your best. And leave.”
Sometimes it’s someone
That we knew: the parent
Of a friend: “Just do the job 
In front of you.”
But much more often
We are a bucket brigade
Passing along 
The wisdom
Of those we never met
(At least in how we think
Of meeting). 
Maybe that’s how 
They come to be immortal—
Living beyond time—
Our saying makes them so,
Our scattering their words
Into a timeless stream,
Where they float forevermore.  
     Judy Brown, May 7, 2021 

Lyme Regis, is a favourite spot, with a superb restaurant (our third visit in recent years), the Cob …

… and the Lyme Regis Boat Building Academy:

Now to explain why the title of this blog refers to the plural – Sawmills. I have been liaising with Tris Stone at Stones Marine Timber, to sort out wood for the planking and transom. Tris has been really helpful and, after a fair bit of discussion and advice, I am almost ready to put in my order: Sitka Spruce for the planking; Mahogany for the sheer strake (top plank) and transom; and oak for the timbers (ribs). Sylvia is relieved that we are not getting a load of 20ft lengths of Spruce that would have needed to be stored in the house as the garage is too short!

And Stems? Well, of course, there’s only one required. After a couple of part days in Docs Den, I have got the jigsaw pieces to fit together nicely. It was tricky, and I was glad to have at hand this Record 311 shoulder plane.

It bears the signs of age, and injury. Its previous owner had dropped it and, being cast iron, it had cracked. Mike had got it repaired, by having the fractured ends braised.

It reminds me of a lovely man, who was a patient of mine for many years, and who generously gave me some of his shipwrighting tools when he heard I was doing the boat building course at IBTC. The repair speaks of the value he gave to this tool – and no doubt all of his tools. Tools that would have been collected during his apprenticeship, from meagre wages, and used for decades as he worked as a master craftsman at local yards including Vosper Thorneycroft.

Seems to me that there’s immortality too in well-loved, well-used tools, passed on for another to treasure and use!

Now, I have to make some long copper nails; drill the holes with some extra long 5mm drill bits I have bought; and fix it all together with Sikaflex (sealant/bedding/glue) and the roved nails.

As the Chinese proverb goes: “a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.” It’s great to be making the first steps at last.

A consultant colleague recently did me a favour. To express my gratitude to Steve, I gave him a bottle of wine and turned a bottle coaster to go with it.

I decided that we could do with a small garden shed to house garden tools. So, here is the result of my efforts, which involved stripping down several pallets to provide most of the wood I used (apart from the front and roof). After producing about 30 shiplap planks from the pallet wood, for the back and sides, it was a joy to cheat with TGV planks for the rest! I have put a 25mm hole in one of the sides, ready for a bird box to sit inside the shed – fingers crossed for a blue tits nest next year!

I know … I have lofted this dinghy before! Well, almost.

Having bought the Paul Gartside 10ft clinker dinghy plans, I lofted her on the garage floor last year. Then, there came a pause, initially, because I had some projects to do for friends; and then I rather lost confidence, having heard that the students at IBTC had run into some problems with the lofting/design.

Anyway, during a visit to the college a few months ago now, I realised that the issue they had had was a misunderstanding of one of the comments in the plans. Armed with that information, I felt confident in the design, and set about lofting the dinghy once more. Of course, doing it a second time around, I found that I was able to do a better job this time.

With the lofting completed, it was time to make some moulds. The five moulds represent a cross-section of the boat at intervals from bow to stern, and for a framework against which to plank the dinghy.

I have also made the strong-back, the trestled T-bar structure that the boat is built upon.

So, at last, it’s time to start the build.

Today, I cut the templates out of the Mylar and used them to cut the pieces for the stem:

Now, I need to clean up the opposing edges – which is tricky where a bench plane cannot be used – to get as near-perfect a fit as I can. Careful Stuart!!

A succession of Atlantic low pressure systems have brought storms and gales, rain and hail, thunder and lightning.

Thankfully, we have weathered the storms, though a few acers in our garden have suffered severe wind burn – the worst in recent years – their leaves dried and crisped at the edges. I hope they survive.

At long last, we have a high pressure system, and yesterday we were able to enjoy taking breakfast in the garden, and to enjoy the radiant warmth of the sun.

The swifts have arrived – perhaps not in the numbers we have seen in recent years, but their aerodynamic, crescent-shaped wings, and their screaming cries are a welcome harbinger of summer. House martins too, a welcome sight as they skim through the air above us in their search for insects aloft. And … a single aircraft vapour trail … a still-infrequent sight as the pandemic grumbles on.

As we sat, we watched young sparrows fledging from their nest in the eaves of our house, their parents cajoling the last one or two from the nest, and then feeding their fledgling young, who fluttered their wings in expectation of food.

In one of our trees, newly-hatched great tits – probably from the conifer hedge beyond our back fence – were being fed by their parents. Again, their wings fluttered frantically, as they called for food.

On the lawn, several starling chicks squabbled and fought to get the mealworms we had put out for them, as yet still more came, their parents’ fixed-wing gliding-in so reminiscent of German Skukas attacking their targets below.

A loud “caw” rang out, as a a crow passed overhead, but, the loudest song of all came from a cock wren, stridently calling for a mate, to inspect the nest he had made in our gazebo. Funny, how such a small bird can make the most noise – not at all reminiscent of Sylvia’s calls for this or that!

The last year has, too, been a succession of lows. How lovely then, to feel the elation brought by warmer weather, blue skies and sun, and the sounds and sights of nature around us!

I hope we have some more highs to come!