Garboards

After a day of more or less scratching our heads over the mysteries of keel/stem joints and aprons, all became clear on the next and rapid progress resumed on the garboards. In short, by trying to stick with the plans for epoxy/ply, we nearly went down a blind alley. Every boat is different, and this is no exception. And every boat has its moments, no matter how many you have built. But getting out of a corner is what makes it fun (albeit in retrospect).

By the end of the week the centreline and first two strakes should be up, with five more to go. The shape of the garboards was lovely to behold, a sweeping, scimitar that took but a little steaming into the fore and aft rabbets and if all goes as sweetly, then we will be happy indeed.

Pictures are worth a 1000 words, so here they are.

Meanwhile another milestone has been notched up: the 30,000 hits and counting since this blog fired up the woodburner last year. And 45 of you have even joined up as followers, poor fools. I am flattered, nevertheless.

One Week's Work

Four hands are better than two, and that goes for two heads. A week into the Arctic Tern build and we have the centreline up, more or less, the daggerboard slot cut and, once the aprons are fastened to the keel, we can finish the rabbet, where it gets trickiest, at bow and stern.

I can't say it's gone twice as fast, maybe a third faster, but it's certainly been easier, and I have already learnt a great deal from a man fresh from two years at Stockholm's traditional boat building school. The result so far is a centreline that is not only super strong but within a gnat's todger of Iain Oughtred's plans, as verified by Viking Boat's laser-controlled levelling system (£12.99 at B&Q, borrowed from our neighbour and aeronautical engineer friend John McIntyre).

So while Mattis gets on with glueing the laminates to the jig, I spend the time making the hog and keel, then we have a chat about what needs doing. It's only then that I realise how dependent I have been on my own company for so long, and how hard it is to put into words what usually swirls around in my head, incomprehensible to all but myself.

As Mattis is from West Cork, there is also a slight language, or at least, accent problem on my part at the moment which, combined with my increasing difficulty in hearing (legacy of too many fast bike rides) makes discussion interesting at times... It reminds me of the old saying about English and Americans being divided by a common language (WS Churchill). But we are getting there.

But I do like the way he will say quietly: "Adrian, I think you may be making a small mistake there" as I reach for something sharp to cut off something absolutely crucial. It's the kind of advice the little voice of caution in my head would have been whispering to me in former times, albeit with a difference: this voice has an Irish accent. Suffice to say, it has already saved me from some expensive mistakes and come up with some simple solutions to the few problems so far encountered.

Establishing the rocker was perhaps the trickiest part, but by a combination of luck and careful measurement the laser beam appears to pick up the waterline close to perfection. If built upside down, as Iain intends his plywood versions to be built, then the jig, would of course, establish the rocker automatically.

Next stage, after cutting the rabbets fore and aft, is to fit the garboards. We will probably depart from Iain's lining out and bring it up a little higher at stem and stern, because timber can be steamed and will take a tighter twist than plywood. We also intend to plank up with seven, not six or eight strakes, the idea being to add three strakes for Iain's two below the waterline, and steadily creep back to his marks by the time we get to the turn of the bilge, but many hours of splines and squinting lie ahead to establish fairness.

So, that's it for the first week. A solid start, some beautiful lamination from Mattis; accuracy and above all enjoyment. Financially, by splitting the build, there'll be less in the bank at the end of the day, but it will be quicker, I will have gained much from Mattis, we will be able to take on more commissions and, on the evidence of progress so far, owners like Arctic Tern's will get a better boat.

Colder In than Out

The scene was one of frantic activity at Viking Boats International (plc) Ullapool this morning as the stem and sternpost apron laminates were clamped up and the centreline began to take shape. Like most modern boat shops, this one is provided with full draught recycling air flow, to clear fumes and provide for a healthy working environment, ie we open the shed doors to let the warmth in from time to time.

Aprons on the jigs; hog and keel laminated and moulds trial fitted.

The purpose-built facility is furnished with state of the art equipment and the latest gear, as can be seen in the photo above. The climate-controlled conditions are ideal for the setting of the excellent Collano Semparoc adhesives which Viking Boats has endorsed ever since their introduction a few months back (can I have a bigger discount Mr Robbins?).

Seriously though, the Arctic Tern is taking shape steadily, with the centreline coming along nicely. There's a built-in rocker to the keel, which is laminated in three pieces, and the hog, laminated in two. Next step is to laminate the outer stems, using the apron as a jig. Once the aprons are off the jigs, they can be married to the hog and the whole centreline set up. Once it's all squared up and levelled, we can begin to cut the rabbet and, by the end of the week, who knows, maybe we'll have a garboard or two in place. No rush at this stage, and lots of thinking...

We're Off...

The Arctic Tern is underway. Monday saw the hog and keel laminated, and the formers made for the stem and stern posts. Mattis arrived from Ireland to make it all look easy, and already the advantages of two working on a boat rather than one are becoming clear. I've probably learnt as much from him as he has from me, which makes us just about even so far. We have some head scratching over the rabbet to look forward to, as we clearly have our own ways.

If anything my methods tend to be worked out more on the job, whereas Mattis has had the time to work things from plans, which will be useful. My approach is often intuitive. It is as if my hands do the thinking. It's hard to explain in words without doing it.

So far it's working great. Tomorrow we laminate the stems and by the ened of the week we may even have a centreline set up. Then it's garboards time...

Two from Mr Oughtred

Spotted these two dinghies outside my shed today and realised they must have been the ones I built recently. It's just nice to have two boats, especially so similar in style, alongside each other for a few days before they depart. A rare occurrence and one I thought I'd better capture while I could.

The smaller of the two is Iain's Guillemot; the larger his Tammie Norrie. The former is built of larch on oak and steamed Scots pine, the latter of Scots pine planking with larch garboards, and timbered out in larch as well, a material I am increasingly using for framing as it steams well, doesn't crack and can be found in long, clear lengths, whereas the slightest flaw in oak and it's in the wood burner.

The stem of the Guillemot is laminated while that of the Tammie Norrie is solid. And while the little boat is for rowing only her big sister carries a lugsail.

The only thing missing is a rubbing strip on the larger boat, probably a simple half round of oak or mahogany, left unfinished as the whole point is that it's designed to rub, so will lose any paint sharpish.

The blue strip on the Guillemot, on the other hand, is more for show as she's left on a mooring and to give that wide top strake a little more lift at the transom.

A Proper Yacht

That's what I call a yacht, although I'm not sure what you'd call her skipper... In 1936 Philip Sharp of Poole in Dorset approached Jack Laurent Giles, yacht designer of Lymington, to draw him a 5 tonner for his personal use in the harbour and Solent. Sally II was his answer, based on Andrillot, but sloop rigged and lacking the exaggerated sheerstrake that became a Giles trademark. Built by Elkins of Christchurch, she was launched in the spring of 1937.

After the war, these little cruising boats became the Vertue class, named after the cup awarded to Lawrence Biddle in 1939 by the Little Ship Club, first donated in 1929 by the club librarian Michael Vertue, for an ambitious cruise, 745 miles in 16 days, engineless around the Western Approaches that would, even today, tax any modern yacht of 25ft or so overall.

Sally has won a few races under my ownership these past 15 or so years, and has cruised to Brittany and the West Country, throughout The Solent and as far east as Chichester. By lorry to Edinburgh, she transited the Forth-Clyde Canal in 2001, and made her way up the west coast, to Stornoway and beyond, and now lies to her mooring opposite Ullapool.

She is 75 this year, and as sound in timber as the day she was launched, thanks to her tungum bronze strap floors (as used on hydraulic pipes in Wellington bombers), pitchpine planking and oak timbers, two steamed to every grown frame in the standard construction of the 1930s.

Why the post? Mainly to remind myself that there is more to life than building little clinker dinghies, of the beauty of a perfect sheerline (of which more anon) and that the waters of Loch Broom are connected to all the wide seas of the world.