Things that (might have) Made me Swear (pt 2)

The chickens that surround my shed have been fortunate not to have heard much swearing recently, as I get stuck into the punt project which, to date, has been going ominously smoothly. That's a dangerous thing to have said as I will arrive there tomorrow to find the epoxy has not kicked...

Found mouse poo in my coffee cup this morning, and even that didn't make me swear. Just boiled the kettle and turned it into Nescapoo. You think I drank it, yes?

So what did I last swear at? Last week it was the vacuum cleaner. Yesterday it might well have been a flimsy hand pump made by one Fladen. One pull on the plunger and it fell apart. Simply held together with glue, so it transpired after I managed to prise it apart.

There was a silver lining to the cloud, in that the nice man who sold it to me on eBay was more than happy to exchange it. "Never had anyone send one back," he said.

"I'm going to have a go at fixing it," I said.

"Good for you," he said.

"But if I can't fix it, it might have to go back, and will probably be in a distressed state by then."

(I would have lost my temper, in other words...)

"No bother, most people just ring up and moan. Good luck."

So I fixed it, and it's better than new. But why oh why didn't they make it properly in the first place?

In a Secret Location Somewhere in Scotland...

... a 23ft 4in gunning punt is taking shape. Only a few are trusted enough to see progress, and are blindfolded on the way there and back. A close watch is kept on any bird watchers seen to stray too close to the location.

I am joking, of course. So, here are the first photos of the punt, as taken this morning after the last of the frames were fixed onto the hog. These are made up from pieces of oak, 3in x 1/2in, with marine ply webs top and bottom on which the skins will land. Seems pretty strong so far.

Although I will use plywood for the deck and bottom, I am keen to use larch for the sides, which are only 8in wide at most. If anyone has any thoughts about whether to use 8mm or 9mm ply, please let me know. For the sides I will probably thickness the larch to 1/2in, or about 12mm. She's a touch over 4ft wide at the widest point.

I reckon with a sail she would go pretty quick, sideways...

A Load of Old Cobblers...?

I have an old pair of Dubarry leather boots, which are past their best, and leaking badly. They have served me well and once, on the foreshore of a Caribbean island I was offered the entire contents of a fruit stall (and the rights to the business) by a rasta smoking a suspicious looking roll-up.

I like the idea of wearing a pair of boots hand crafted by some time-served bootmakers in Ballinasloe, County Galway, "shoe and boot makers since 1937". No wonder they are so expensive; labour even in the recession-hit Irish Republic cannot be cheap. These ones are 200 quid...

Then I had a thought: maybe they are not made in Ireland? What does "For over 70 years Dubarry has been associated with producing high quality footwear..." suggest to you? Associated? Does that mean boot making, or does it mean an association with boot making.  And  producing  is that the same as "making"? If I imported my boats from abroad, would I still be "producing" them?

I re-read the words, and detected a note of uncertainty. Heaven forbid they should be made anywhere other than in cosy little cobblers' shops in Galway? Maybe "for over 70 years" does mean what it says: that boot making in Ireland began in 1937 and stopped soon after 2007. My old boots were made around 2000, in Ireland I assume. Where would my new boots be made, then?

Call me cynical, but I have my suspicions. Just wish manufacturers could be up front.  Where do Prada make their bags, or Gucci their watches or Louis Vuitton their trunks? Possibly in little artisan shops in the backwaters of Paris, perhaps not. Who cares. Well I do, not so much about quality (the Far East produces fantastic quality) but I do care about honesty. If Dubarry boots are not made in Ireland these days I would like to know, and dispel my suspicions that they are now simply "associated" with boot making.

Things that Make me Swear (pt1)

I call it the "fury of inanimate objects", or rather the fury that is directed towards things that seem to exhibit perverse and most un-objective traits. Take the yard vacuum cleaner for starters. It is noisy, hellishly so, and indiscriminate in what it decides to suck up. It shows no remorse after swallowing the pencil left in the bilges, half a dozen expensive bronze screws, loose change, the bung, or the bitter ends of control lines. Slurp, gobble... gone.

And that's not the end of it. My vacuum cleaner has a ball valve to stop is sucking up water into its motor (sensible) but as it perches perilously on three tiny supermarket trolley-type wheels, it is pre-programmed to topple over whenever you yank lightly on its trunk, and when it falls over the little ball valve thinks it's about to ingest a bellyful of water, and up pops the ball (to the accompaniment of an even more hideous high-pitched screeching which only stops when you climb down from the boat you are up-ended in and switch it off). After what seems an age, you hear a little "plop" which signifies the ball has dropped, and it's safe to switch on again (having set it upright on its stupid little casters).

A few minutes later and over it goes again, and so on... Ha! But I have tamed it, by extracting the ball (which means it will soon,  out of pure spite, develop the thirst of a rabid dog).

Next: the power cord from hell...

Spring is Sprung(ing)...

The daffs are shining in the sun (or at least they were yesterday), buds are budding and the strath is coming alive once more after a grim, long winter. Time for a new header picture too, this one a 16ft lug sailed boat  built last year for Loch Torridon.

The next one on the stocks is a rather different craft: the gun punt of posts passim.

Just a Thought...

It's been a while since I had a go at plywood, so here goes. It struck me the other day after seeing another fine traditional wooden boat restoration project completed that you seldom if ever hear about an old plywood boat being restored. That may be because, unlike a clinker or carvel boat, they never need restoring.  Maybe. Some years ago I recall seeing something about one of the first cruising boats, Maid of Ply, under restoration. And then there's Kees Bruynzeel's fabulous Stormvogel. But she's exceptional.

More likely most old plywood cruising boats are simply not worth bothering about - all those Eventides and the like. And yet, why not? Darn sight easier to strip off a sheet or two of rotten plywood and reskin than all that palaver with planks and ribs and the rest.

Meanwhile, here's a cautionary tale that applies to all clinker boats of a certain age. At some point in their lives someone comes up with the brilliant idea to cover them in glassfibre. This, I have to tell you, is the beginning of the end. It is the last gasp; the final phase in the life of a clinker boat. Indeed of any wooden boat traditionally built.

I have one such under repair in my shed as I write. It is, if I had to describe it honestly, a thin glassfibre shell, lined with slowly rotting wood. Thing is, water coming in from above will inevitably find its way out via the plank lands, and any convenient exit points - splits and such. As the glassfibre will not have adhered to the damp and expanding/contracting wooden planks, the water will seep between planks and glassfibre, settling in the keel.

The keel band will have been attached after the glassfibre skin has cured with screws, which will leak water from below. And there is nothing you can do to stop the rot, short of pouring in a gallon of Cuprinol which will slow the process.

The good news is that old boats tend to hang together through force of habit. It must be true, as there's nothing much else holding this one together.  I will do my best, and she will last a good five years or more. But why oh why did someone not simply replace the damaged planks? A clinker boat is, after all, infinitely repairable.

Inspiration from the Smallest Room

Every morning, regularly... no I won't go there. But let's just say that in the smallest room of the house - actually all the rooms are pretty small, but this one is marginally smaller than the rest - a huge pile of old yachting magazines, which grows by the month, threatens to block access, yet provides inspiration and, occasionally, good advice. The advertisements are probably the best part of the contents, the car ads rodolent of a more leisured age. The Railton Cobham Deluxe saloon, for exampe, at £680. I wonder if any of them are still around? An 18 ton Hillyard for £700;  primus boat heaters from Pascall Atkey; Burberry's Steadfast shoes, made from sail canvas and felt soles for 12/6 a pair... you could wallow in nostalgia for hours.

In the October 1936 issue of Yachting Monthly William Atkin writes from America with comments on Stormy Weather's 1935 Newport to Bergen transatlantic win: "The chipper youngster Rod Stephens, with a slight-built yacht Stormy Weather, went to the north, escaped damage and won..." he writes.

Incidentally, talking of advice, Stephens' autobiography Rod on Sailing; Lessons from the Sea, unpublished, I think, is on free download. Superb reading, full of really down to earth advice, and in minute detail too on everything from bilge pumps to anchors, drawers, galleys, rigging, sails and more. For any owner of a wooden boat of the 1930s to 1960s, and beyond it is as invaluable as Eric Hiscock's old Cruising Under Sail. You can understand why to have Rod on board was so valued. Preparation, preparation, preparation...

Today's gem from the old magazine pile, however, was this: "The only way to become a really accomplished sailor and seaman is to learn to sail in a centreboard boat; and then, when once learned in the art, never again to set foot in one." Having just bought a Flying Fifteen, I can see what he's getting at.