One I Made Earlier...

You may remember in posts passim I built a duck punt. No? Well, I did and not without misgivings because, sensitive creature that I am, attuned to nature and the damage we humans inflict on our planet, I was not altogether happy to build a boat that ran contrary to my deepest inclinations: a boat that would have to built in (whisper gently) pl****d and e***y.

Well I did, and here she is in her natural element, slipping into the mists in pursuit of duck. A thing of lethal beauty. Man the hunter. I'll let you know if that gert great gun at the front made any significant inroads into the wildfowl population of the estuary that day. Sure as hell the couple in her needed a dram or two to warm up on their return.

Viking Boat Launched on Merseyside

So that's what they wanted my faering for... read on (courtesy of the Liverpool Echo)!


A “FRIENDLY” Viking invasion saw a replica boat launched on Merseyside.
The 16.5ft reconstruction of the Viking boat forms the centrepiece of an educational project which uses history to teach youngsters about current issues, including climate change.

The boat was launched at Wirral’s West Kirby beach by the ecoVikings project. This will see a team of Viking warriors travelling to schools in Merseyside to encourage children to both respect the coastline and lower their carbon emissions, by signing the ecoViking “pledge.”.

Spokesman Dean Paton said: “We’ve used an example from history of the great Viking seafarers who harnessed the power of the wind and waves to be masters of Northern Europe.

“Vikings were recycling, insulating buildings and using wind and wave power over 1,000 years ago, something that we as a society must try to replicate in order to live sustainable lives.”

The two-man rowing boat is a reconstruction of the only Viking boat to be discovered in mainland Britain – the Ardnamurchan Burial Boat.

It was crafted using traditional methods and materials and is an almost inch-perfect replica.

The boat has a link with Merseyside as the Viking warrior found buried inside it was wearing Hiberno-Norse jewellery, the same type that were discovered in huge numbers in Meols, highlighting the links between the Mersey and the Viking world in the 10th century.

The ecoVikings scheme is being organised by Merseytravel through the EU-funded Climatlantic project.

Mr Paton said the image of the Vikings they were trying to convey ran counter to the traditional view of “raping, pillaging, and looting.”

He added: “They cared for their environment and they didn’t have a concept of waste as everything was used. They are a great lesson for us to learn about how to look after our environment.”

After touring schools, the Viking boat will go on display at the Museum of Liverpool on November 24/25.

YouTube
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWIT8S-TN3Q

Read More
http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/liverpool-news/local-news/2012/10/01/replica-viking-boat-launched-to-teach-kids-about-climate-change-100252-31938869/#ixzz282fU2a1o

Sula Latest

With Mattis away now, it's up to me to keep up standards as Sula enters her final stages of building. After a liberal soaking with linseed oil, I followed up with another of Varnol, pure turpentine, a generous dose of CooVar (Yacht & Seaplane) varnish, with a dash of bitumen, much  like adding Tabasco to a stew.

Meanwhile, if Shetland boats are your thing, then pick up a copy of Alison Munro's excellent booklet, available from the Unst Heritage Trust, Haroldswick, Unst, Shetland ZE2 9ED Price £14.99
email: info@unstheritage.com

Taking Over

Mattis Voss, who first approached me via a well-worded letter of introduction, is off to Norway next week, leaving me the task of finishing the Shetland yole he began - or rather which I began by making the stems a few months back.

It's a strange thing working on a boat that someone else has built and put heart and soul into. A boat, until it's delivered, belongs to the builder even if the money's been paid. You form a strong bond with that inanimate object through hours of head scratching, planing and hammering which is hard to break. And now, after little or no head scratching, just the occasional word of advice, I will be charged with bringing it to fruition - like fostering someone else's child.

In contrast - and what a contrast it is between the Shetland boat and the faering - the faering I built is off south soon and although I will be glad to see it safely delivered, part of me would like to keep it a little longer, even to the extent of paying back the fee.

"Pity. I'd like to keep this one for myself..."

In truth, I'll be sorry to see it go. In so many ways it is different to the yole; the one being as precise an interpretation of the plans as Mattis's skills could make it, vs the faering for which the brief was to build a boat that looked like it could have been built many centuries ago, hence the darkened oiled finish and the tool marks. Much else departs from the plans, both in basics such as length and sheerline as well as details, like the breasthooks and frames. It feels more like my boat, rather than the designer's. I like that!

But it is not, of course, my boat. The owner whose instructions I tried to follow will soon take possession of her and I hope that my interpretation of what he wanted will be the same as his, if you see what I mean.

Honesty

Coming to boat building from a different angle than some people; ie the world of journalism, I have always felt it my duty to report the truth about what I do. "Journalist writing about the truth?" you say. Well yes. And it has sometimes been counted against me, for instance the occasions when I bear my soul about mistakes or, as I like to call them, "things that could have been done better".

I have in the past pointed out deviations in the line of planking; less than fag paper fits and such like in the hope that by pointing out flaws, people will realise not how difficult it is to build a clinker boat, but how hard it is to make it perfect. If you tried to find perfection you would drive yourself crazy, for it is often in the so-called imperfections that true beauty and originality are found.

Take plans, for example. Building a class dinghy and, of course, tolerances have to be adhered to, but in the case of a custom commission then it's important not to become a slave to plans. In any case, even the best designers often expect clinker planks to conform to the most impossible curves. Left to their own devices, planking will achieve its own fairness, so long as you impose strict but benign discipline or boundaries; rather like young children, I imagine.

That means not allowing them to creep up the moulds at the quarters, especially - a danger point in all clinker boats. But to an extent you can trust them to tell you where they are happy to lie and the worst thing you can do is apply too much force or, to stretch the child analogy, unnecessary cruelty or punishment.

And yet this honesty has its downsides. Who wants to hear that their boat could have been built better? Who wants her flaws, however minor or trivial or imperceptible, flagged up? I could pretend that everything went to plan, effortlessly, and yet I know for a fact that very few boat builders achieve perfection and certainly not without extreme effort and thought. So, why not, given the complexity of the task, admit that the line of rivets near the bow is uneven; the second strake down at the stern could do with another 1/8th in or even mention the tiny split that appeared at a hood end fastening but which will never, ever give any trouble? I like to think that it humanises the process of boat building; demystifies it a little because, let's face it, building boats has always been surrounded in unjustified mystique.

And now for Something Different...

All this stuff about faerings and nothing about the Shetland yole Mattis is quietly building alongside. I said quietly, when his favourite tool is an electric planer I bought off the back of a lorry and seldom take out of its box.

Anyway, Mattis has taken it to his heart and shapes planks, both tops, bottoms and ends, with it to great success. Whereas as soon as I touch it, it tears great chunks off whatever I am planing. I expect before too long he will be shaving with it (if it weren't for the razor edge he proudly showed me today on his block plane).

Without more ado, here are some shots of Sula, as taken today, with the fifth strake going up. Look and weep, for it is a thing of great beauty and Mattis is indeed a meticulous craftsman.

Launch

The faering was slipped into the limpid waters of Loch Broom at the weekend and... floated, naturally, although an alarming water spout from under the aft thwart suggested more than the usual amount of taking up time might be required. Until I realised that two temporary screw holes had not been plugged.

With no mastic between the lands I was always worried she would leak like a... faering? In fact the  water came from a few places along the garboard seam where the scarphs meet the keel, which was later fixed with the application of that ancient Viking leak recipe: a dab of acrylic frame sealant, and a doubling up of the fastenings. Should be more or less leak free now.

And does she row. Like a dream, slipping along with barely a pull on the oars, whilst leaving a smooth slick in her wake, as if she was made to fit the water.

Still some finising to do, and more Varnol. To date she has swallowed up about six litres of the precious stuff, from a store that was supposed to last a year.

The steerboard appears to turn the boat, though how strongly I have yet to determine. I have a good feeling about it, and it looks the part. It can be made bigger.

I like to be brutally honest (probably to my detriment) about things that "could have been done better" but overall, the impression is good. The faering to my mind is the simplest but most ingenious small boat to have evolved. Just three strakes and you have as elegant a shape as any afloat. It does require good timber though. And one day I will build one without the aid of moulds, just a table of strake angles and a gadget that looks like an inclinometer to measure them.

Beautiful? But that's surely in the eye of the beholder. Could I do better next time? Of course: a closer fit here; a slight imperfection in the line of a land; a tiny split at a nail... As Tom Whitfield, a time-served boatbuilder who emails me from Australia with comments would say: "you never stop learning..."