Boat Builder's Dilemma: Florence Oliver For Sale

Florence Oliver, the 18ft sjekte I built some years back, is for sale. She is a favourite of mine, and I vividly remember how she came about.

It was during the Caledonian Raid and I had entered Felicity John, the first sjekte I built after leaving Ullapool Boat Builders. I was pretty knackered as she was my first commission on going alone, and the prospect of building another one so soon seemed a little daunting, so I did my best to dissuade Ted.

These days I would have bitten his leg off, but maybe my reluctance helped fuel his enthusiasm. Anyway, he proved more persuasive than my efforts at evasion and I eventually agreed to build what was to become Florence Oliver.

And very proud I was of her too. With spars by Collars, sails from Steve Hall at North Sea Sails, and nicely finished by Ted, no mean craftsman himself, she made her debut at Beale Park in 2007.

Recently I was asked to quote for a similar sized boat, but with a simple cabin, and although modifying FO would have been nigh impossible, I felt duty bound to mention that she was for sale. I confess, however, that I hesitated before handing on the news. What if my putative client fell in love with her, and my commission evaporated? And yet I owed it to Ted to try and find a buyer for his boat. Matching owner to boat is, after all, what it's all about.

Ted, on his part, bless him, was equally concerned that I might be losing work by putting him in touch. Keen as he was to find a buyer for her, he would feel awkward if her sale meant my losing the chance to build another boat. What should I have done?

Fortunately (or unfortunately) Florence Oliver is probably not going to be suitable and at least my new client, if that turns out to be the case, will get a chance to talk to Ted about my skills or otherwise. It may mean Ted has to wait to sell his boat, and it may not lead to a new commission for me, but my conscience will be clear, and that is worth more than any boat's worth.

Meanwhile, anyone looking for a clinker-built 18-footer, one careful owner...? 

It's Amazing What You Find...

...underneath a thick layer of red fence paint. At least it helped preserve a little dinghy that was on her last legs, and destined as a flowerbed, if the present owner hadn't spotted her on eBay.

Before...

I have to say that she is the prettiest little dinghy I have seen for a long time, and most exquisitely put together, although the thwart knees do look a little heavier than strictly necessary.

One of the intriguing things about her was that she was orginally a sailing dinghy. You can see where I have glued in an oak filler in the slot. The trouble was that, in stripping out the centreboard case a lot of the keel's strength went with it, such that there was a horrible hump in the centre. This disappeared with a bit of gentle persuasion over a weekend, and with the slot well and truly filled, the keel is as straight as a die again. And the new timbers could then be taken over the keel to help add stiffness.

... and after.

The wood used is elm, and flawless, with no splits after what must be 30 or more years. She must have been well looked after in her youth, as the lands are not worn or scuffed, and the rubbing strip is intact. But all the steamed timbers were cracked, and had to be replaced with slightly heftier ones. Which is probably when her owner decided to put her on the market. A common thing now that the ordinary skills of retimbering a clinker dinghy reside in the hands of a handful of traditional boat builders, where once it was a routine job for an owner to steam in a new timber every so often.

So, after a great deal of scraping of red paint, and sanding and varnishing, she's ready for another 30 years. And just look at how the thwarts came up. Again, under the red Cuprinol lay some lovely Honduras mahogany to set off the elm and oak nicely.

I just wish I knew what she was. Anyone out there with a class or type? Length around 11ft, with a rig originally and centreboard. No idea what rig, but probably a little lugsail. And the builder? Almost too good to be professionally built, if you know what I mean. Just such a sweet boat. I almost wish she were mine...

PS I left the rubbing strakes in red fence paint as a reminder, and I think they look fine against the planking.

Finished... but Where's the Proof?

Well the Frank Knight-built dinghy went down to Struy the other day and, as always, I packed a camera to capture the moment of hand over. And then forgot to take any photos.

Ah well. All I can say is that she looked pretty good with mahogany thwarts back and varnished, as was the foredeck. Those of you who (loyally) tune into this blog will be bitterly disappointed of course. But be patient: I will get some shots by hook or crook before too long.

Those of you who also take that excellent publication Classic Boat can read a little about it in the next issue.

Meanwhile I have begun work on the next one: an elm-planked 10ft dinghy that was originally fitted with a centreboard. I only discovered this today when I hacked off the crude blanking piece over the slot. If anything this little gem is even nicer than her bigger sister. I fully intend to take off the lines. Unfortunately, again, I forgot to take my camera to the workshop today. Believe me, she's a little beauty with fabulous mahogany thwarts, Honduras no doubt and unobtainable now. Bent timbers were shot though and all will be replaced.

I have a feeling she was amateur built in the days when amateurs built clinker boats, as the quality is superb, but somehow not professional. In that I mean better. It has taken more time. More care has been expended and that is so often the way. So-called professionally-built boats have a put-together-by-time-served craftsmen-to-a-timescale-and-standard quality about them, whereas amateur-built boats - that is those built by super talented amateurs who may well be brain surgeons, nuclear scientists, climate change researchers or former British Rail managers - can be exquisite. Maybe it's the quota of dedication (I was going to say love) put into them, and the (unpaid) hours.

And if you want to know how to build a clinker dinghy, then you can do worse than subscribe to the thinking man's nautical magazine, The Marine Quarterly. You will not regret it. This quarter's issue, aside from the clinker treatise in 2000 words, includes pieces on scurvy, Brixham trawlers and Thames eels.

www.marinequarterly.com

You know you should...

Progress

The last of the new timbers were steamed in on Friday, and the last of the nails riveted up this morning. The shell now has the strength it lacked when it came into the shed a few weeks ago, plank splits are healed and the next stage it to flip her over to start varnishing the bottom, after some more remedial work on damaged lands and various divots.

Of the timbers, only three split before they could be bent to the planking, which was an excellent ratio. Nothing more annoying than having timber after timber split on withdrawal from the steam box. Well, maybe split planks in a new build at the hood end fastenings just when you've riveted the entire length.

After work on the bottom it'll be time to flip back over and finish the interior with another coat of bilge paint, varnish and the final fitting of the thwarts and floorboards. Then back where she belongs: in the water as good, almost, as new. And certainly stronger now with the slighty beefier timbers.

A'steaming We Will Go

Half the new timbers are now steamed in and riveted up, and the rest will be by Monday. I have increased the scantlings slightly to 15mm x 25mm as the old ones proved too weak, long term.

I am surprised at that in a boat of such quality. It always seems to be the oak timbers that crack first, followed by the planks in way of the cracks and from then on it's a downward spiral. But then as this one has lasted fine for 50 years or so, who am I to query the builder's methods.

The new timbers do look a little, shall we say, agricultural, but then I don't want someone in 20 years' time wish they'd been stronger.

One thing I could not do was to steam them in gunwale to gunwale as it would have meant removing the gunwales, so they meet at the keel centreline. This will mean building  in some of the lost strength, possibly by a series a short timbers across the centreline and riveted to one or two lands either side.

It's wonderful though to see the strength coming back into the floppy shell as the timbers go in. Restoring a boat like this is indeed like renewing a life and - not to get too romantic - you do feel as if this is a living, albeit sick, creature that is being nursed back into health after a period of sickness and neglect.

More Tales from the Milking Parlour...

Splits mended, planks scraped it will soon be time to steam in the new oak timbers. Rather than try and find mahogany to match the original I went for the epoxy and mahogany dust option, in effect reconstituting the timber using a modern mix. The alternative might have been replacing the damaged sections in larch, then staining to try and match the mahogany.

This way the original material is retained and the repair will be both strong and almost invisible. The splits were in the usual places, where the bilge runners had broken and at the turn of the bilge, where most of the steamed timbers had also broken.

The bilges are now white which will make them easier to clean.

I also restored the floorboards, which can be a pain in the neck. Just when you reckon you've finished the boat, here come the damn floorboards, and as they are the first thing you see, they can't be an afterthought.

More next week when the steaming starts. First, on Monday, it'll be time to machine the oak. Where did it come from? About 200 yards from the cow shed where I am working.

Timber miles? About two. That's the way it should be, if at all possible. Besides it's nice to think that a little bit of Leckmelm Estate has been incorporated into a boat built in Ipswich and restored up here.

In another 40 years, who knows, someone might be taking the timbers out again and replacing them. With what? Pre-formed oak-style carbon laminate, perhaps. Roll on. Make life a lot easier...

Nice One Mr Knights

It was only after getting the boat into the shed that I spotted the little oval nameplate on the transom. Frank Knights Boat Builders Ipswich. Frank died in 2008 aged 91, but he is at my shoulder as I work on the boat he built all those years ago. And it's pretty daunting to know that I am breathing life back into a boat that has lasted so long, and built so effortlessly well.

The planking is mahogany, the good stuff, with a few almost unnoticeable scarphs in otherwise full-length planking. It's all copper riveted, with rose head nails at the hood ends. When  I broke out the steamed timbers I was impressed to find, where needed, perfect little teak wedges so they lay on the planks fair. So many other touches spoke of a boat built by a master, from the closeness of the seams to the beading along the thwarts and gunwales.
How did a boat like this get up here? Who knows, but she certainly had little use and the varnish was all original, which made the task of stripping it off all the easier. Unfortunately at some point someone had ladled a stickier, tinted coating on top which could not be burnt, but had to b scraped off. I wish people would think before they did that. Somewhere down the line someone is going to have to scrape it all off.

When Frank retired, he closed the business citing, as one of the reasons, the difficulty of getting people to spend the money needed to keep old (clinker) boats up to scratch. And I fully sympathise.

Owners seem to be losing the knowledge of what it takes to maintain a clinker boat, preferring to bodge and make-do until it's too late. Whereas a little bit of TLC every year is the answer.