Sole Man

In the now-classic (and outdated) book about the aviation, the Sporty Game, the concept of the "Learning Curve" is addressed.  In manufacturing airplanes, the first airplanes off the line are always the most expensive to produce, since the assembly processes are still being refined and the mechanics are performing their tasks for the first time.  As more and more airplanes are produced, you come down on the Learning Curve and the cost and build time of each airplane is reduced...dramatically at first and finally more gradually until (all else being it equal) is asymptotes.

There are Learning Curves in boatbuilding too.  In the case of PocketShip, there is the manual and several excellent blogs that detail the construction of the design.  As a result of reading these, I am farther down the Learning Curve than those who have gone before me.  I am able to steal ideas from other builders to make my boat better or more easily, and am able to (attempt to, at least) avoid some of the trouble earlier builders have had.  Having built other boats also helps bring you down the Learning Curve, as there are several techniques that I picked up on my Pygmy and Redfish kayaks that I've applied to PocketShip.  Of course, there are plenty of things that you don't learn until you do them, plenty of head-scratching and opportunities for making mistakes.

Take laying the cabin sole, for example.  Dave Curtis' blog mentioned that he used the old deck building trick of using a nail as a spacer to keep the correct gap between the planks when cutting his cabin sole.  I probably would have ended up doing this even if he hadn't written about it, but as it was I didn't have to spend any time at all thinking about how to get the right gap between the planks because Dave's work moved me down the Learning Curve.

To keep the proper spacing between planks, I used the standard "nail spacer" trick used by deckers and PocketShip builders alike.

The first few inboardmost planks were fairly easy...just cut to length.  Even so, it probably took more than an hour each for the first four planks, just because I was working out the procedures to install each board.   This got faster as I learned to start from the middle of the plank and work out towards the ends.  To keep the the screw spacing consistent, I made a small guide just the width of my planks with two holes drilled in it.  All I had to do was line this guy up, run my drill down through the holes and, viola, consistently spaced holes!

Getting started laying the sole.

In order to keep the screw spacing the same, I made this handy little jig.

The first four planks on either side were easy.

After the first four planks thing got tough. Both ends of each plank needed to be cut in both planform and profile to meet up with the hull just right. Figuring out how to mark and make this compound cut was extremely challenging time consuming and it really didn't feel like I was moving down the Learning Curve until I was about halfway through. My general approach was to use a short offcut from a previous plank, mark and cut in in planform and then bevel the edge the right angle so that it would firmly contact the hull. Once I got this right (it was a sometimes iterative process), I marked and cut the real board, using my scrap piece as a guide. I guess I went the measure once, cut twice route.  Initially, it would take me about two hours to get a plank in, though as I came down the Learning Curve, this time would eventually be cut in half.

This is all easier said than done, though.  First of all, figuring out the correct angle at which to cut the plank wasn't all that easy.  The manual wasn't much help and neither were most of the blogs out there.  Sean's blog mentioned touched on it, but I was unable to translate his writing into practice.  So I experimented.  Angle meters, projecting lines, mathematics...ack!  I didn't use the same method twice until the final three or four planks, and by then the method that I settled on was to more-or-less eyeball it and use intuition.  The lack of engineering rigour in this approach bugs me a little, but, hey, it worked.  Cutting was much easier, after one attempt with the miter saw, I switches to the circular saw and never looked back.

Bevelling the planks was even trickier.  Finding the correct angle to cut was quite an exercise...again the intuitive approach ended working out the best, but sadly I only learnt that on the final planks.   Cutting them was even trickier.  After a lot of wasted time with a belt sander and a few dubious flirtations with some crazier tools, I switched to the boatbuilder's ultimate weapon, the simple block plane.  This worked better than anything, but took a lot of muscle power. 

A beautifully beveled board.

It took many trial fits to get it right.

To complement the centerline accent board, I laminated up two more figured maple/bloodwood planks to place outboard.  I really like to look of those pieces!

The outboardmost planks were extra tricky.  Folyptus.  I measured the required length of the plank, along with the location and dimension of it's maximum breadth, and then used a batten to strick a fair line.  After a quick cut with the circular saw, a ton of plane work, and plenty of test fitting, I was satisfied.

It took many hours of work to get this far.  Note the accent plank and the extra-wide plank outboard of it.

After that, I just had to repeat everything on the opposite side and I had a great looking cabin sole.  It took way longer than I expected, but it was all fun carpentry-type work, so that was nice.  And I'm very happy with the way it turned out, appearance-wise.  It is also really comfortable; I sat there quite a while after finishing, enjoying the fruits of my labors.  I even explored what it feels like to lay down aboard. 

After waking up, I took a long batten and struck a fair curve along the outboard edges of the sole and will trim the remove all the planks and trim them back to that line.  Then I'll have to round over the edges of the planks, sand, sand, sand, and then finish the planks. 

Finally finished

With the cabin sole in, I couldn't help but sit back and rest a bit.

This quickly devolved into a slightly more relaxed posture.  How great is it to have a project you can lay down in and snooze whilst building it? 

Using a batten to strike a fair curve along the edges of the sole.

So, that's the story of my cabin sole.  One thing you have to love about boat building is the vocabulary...the formal nautical kind, not the salty kind which also has a place. There's English and there's Nautical English. On a boat, a floor is a transverse structural member that ties frames together (PocketShip doesn't have frames, but it still have components positively identifiable as floors). That which on land is called a floor can either wind up being a sole or a deck on a boat. A landlubbers walls are, of course, called ceilings on a boat. And so on.

Another project I've been working on is laying out the locations for the electronics. I intend to mount the radio and light switched straight on to Bulkhead 2. The breaker panel and battery switch will be mounted on a recessed panel and covered with a little hatch...they're ugly and I don't want to have to look at them when I'm not using them. I also plan to build a little "glove box" storage thingy, big enough of glasses, a wallet, MP3 player or other sundries.

Mockup of the electronics locations of Builkhead #2

Open the hatch to access the battery switch and breaker panel

Recesses Panel for battery switch and breaker panel.

 

Also, I finally finished and delivered the cradle boat to my friends.  The baby is due Sunday, so hopefully it'll be getting some use soon.  The parents plan to name the bundle of joy "Charity,"  so I call the little boat "S.S. Caritas"

S.S. Caritas, ready to set sail

Ready to Move On

"Sanding the interior to a truly finished surface is going to take awhile. "  - PocketShip Manual

No kidding.  This was easily the task I've most dreaded in building this boat.  But, after about 6 hours of sanding, I'm basically done sanding the interior of my boat, and ready to move on to other tasks.  I did a pretty good job with the fiberglass work, otherwise it could easily have taken twice as long.  I'm tempted to post a long series of photos showing the progress as I sanded.... That would be one boring sequence of photos.
 
There are still probably another 2 hours of so of sanding that will have to be done before I'm ready to paint the interior, but it doesn't make any sense to do any more now, since in the meantime I'll be making a mess of some of those areas.  For example, before I paint, I'll be building a place to mount a battery, and will be cutting holes for various electrical components, etc.  and in the process of doing that, there will be some epoxy sloshed around that will need to be sanded.
 
Anyway, the bottom line is that I'm moving on.  The next big job will be to fit up the cabin sole.  I got started on that last night managed to get one plank installed.  After that's all done, I'll be working on laying out and constructing hard points for various systems on the boat (battery box, electrical panel, radio, bilge pump, etc).  And I've still got a little bit of fiberglass work to do forward of bulkhead 2!!!  Can't forget that.  Then a little more sanding, and time for paint!

I picked up a couple of components for the electrical system already.  Holes for these will be cut soon.

The first board of the cabin sole has been installed!

Cleats, Clamps, Carlins, Carborundum, and Eucalyptus

I've spent some time sanding my newly-fiberglassed interior.  I am pleased to report that it is going pretty quickly.  I have spent around 3 hours sanding so far, and am just over half done.  Unfortunately, a lot of the sanding remaining consists of tight corners and small, hard to get to spaces.  Not fun, but I did a pretty good job with the glass work, so it isn't as bad as it could be.  And I am motivated to get it done, since after I'm done, there are a done of fun projects that should really advance the "doneness" of the boat quickly.  Motivation is good

So..weird story...I was out sanding away when suddenly I started smelling spaghetti inside my respirator.  Thinking that my sander or vacuum might be about to explode, I quickly shut down everything, pulled off my mask and...no spaghetti smell.  Mask back on, spaghetti.  I started sanding again and the smell went away.  A few minutes later, though...spaghetti.  Again, no smell outside the mask (except, of course, epoxy dust). More sanding, smell goes away.  Then it comes back again.   Strangest thing I've experienced whilst sanding.  I finally decided to interpret it as being time for dinner, so I hung up my sander, called it a night, went inside the house and ate...chicken.

Interlaced with sanding, I've tackled installing the framing that will support the cockpit deck and footwell.  In sharp contrast to all the epoxying that I've been doing recently, here I'm measuring, cutting, and installing wood, and as I do so, the boat looks different, so it feels like I'm actually building something.  Fun and highly rewarding. 
In the manual, it looks pretty straightforward to cut and install all of these cleats, carlins, and beams.  In actually doing it, you realize that there are a ton of compound angles everywhere.  Lot's of dry fitting and lots of measure twice, cut once, mesure once, cut twice, etc.  Also, just locating the cleats in the right places, particularly on the transom, front send of the footwell, and on the footwell sides was trickier than expected.  Lots and lots of dry-fitting is required to make sure everything is where it should be.  It goes slower than you expect, but it is awfully fun work, so no complaints.

Getting the angle of the hull.  The deck carlins are beveled to this angle

Set the sawblade to the right angle

Run it through and you get this!

Here's what it looks like in the boat

Next up, cover everything you see here in more timber

Once again, my clamp collection is deployed en masse

In the manual, the cleats on Bulkhead 8 are shown inside the cabin.  I didn't see any reason for that and figured that if they were installed inside the water-tight compartment, it'd save me some sanding and finishing.  So, that's what I did.

I was constantly dry fitting the footwell sides to check the placement of everything

There were lots of compound angles

The beams of the transom need to be notched out to receive the carlins coming in from Bulkhead 8.  The manual has these cut out after the beams have been glued.  Fellow PocketShip builder Sean came up with a nifty idea that I stole.  His idea was to pre-mark the cutout and the beam, and cut about halfway through the beam from the back side.  Then, glue in the piece, being careful not to get any glue on the bit you'll be removing.  Once everything is dry, simply pick up your saw and finish the cut.  Thus, the beam is aligned across the notch, and it doesn't take any swearing or chisel work to get it out.  Thanks for the great idea, Sean.

Before gluing the deck beams onto the transom, I pre-cut the notches into the back side where it is notched out to receive the carlins.  After it was glued down, I finished cutting it out.

Ready for a carlin

More cleats/carlins.  Notice that I've temporarily set the aft carlins in place...in the wrong spot.  They should be in the
next notch outboard

I've spent quite a long time at Martin Lumber, trying to select an appropriate wood for my cabin sole.  I wanted something hard and tough, with a nice, tight grain, and a mellow, luxurious colour to it.  I looked at teak (too expensive), mahogany (too soft), maple (too light in color), blood wood and paduak (both too dark),  cherry (grain wasn't what I was looking for), oak (too ubiquitous), etc, etc.  Finally, I settled on something called lyptus.  It's hard, heavy, millable, sustainable, has a beautiful, tight grain, and a gentle reddish color.  I did a little research on it, and it turns out that it is a plantation-grown eucalyptus hydrid.

I also wanted to add a little bit of flash to the inside of the cabin, so I decided to glue up a piece of figured maple between two strips of bloodwood to serve as an accent plank.  When finished, the figured maple has and awesome iridescent quality.  Add in the deep-red contrast of the bloodwood, and I think it'll look awesome.  Right now the plan it to run one of these accent strips down the middle.  I'll likely also run one more on each side farther from the centerline.  I'll be playing around with it as I lay the sole, and see what looks right.

I've taken a couple of scraps of the woods and experimented with a couple of different finishes.  High-gloss polyurethane or varnish are out...too garish.  I want a nice, soft, luxuriously satin finish.  Danish oil looks really good on the lyptus, but doesn't totally bring out the iridescence of the figured maple.  The the accent strips might end up getting a satin polyurethane, but I need to see how everything plays together.

I have yet to start putting down the sole.  I think I'm going to finish sanding the interior  and get the distasteful job out of the way first.  But gosh, it is going to be fun, so I'm having trouble holding off.   Also, I don't think I've explicitly mentioned this, but I haven't yet 'glassed the bilge panels forward of bulkhead 2.  It's been on my to-do list for a while, but the other projects have taken precedence largely because they're more rewarding.  But I will have to tackle that soon.  Anyway, more to come!

The makings of a nice sole.  The figured maple/bloodwood laminated piece is in the center, flanked on either side by lyptus.

Here's another view.  Notice the beautiful matte-grey-ish color of the sanded 'glass inside the hull

Re-energised

It was just over a year ago that I took a trip to the Wooden Boat Festival in Port Townsend for the first time.  I went for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I love wooden boats.  But, the number one reason I went?  To see a boat called PocketShip.

PocketShip at the 2010 Wooden Boat Festival in Pt. Townsend.  Alas, she didn't make it for the 2011 show.

I first became aware of the PocketShip design when I was on a wind tunnel test in Switzerland in May, 2010.  Another fella there, one of our wind tunnel model makers, saw a picture of my Redfish Spring Run kayak, then still under construction flash across my screensaver, and pretty soon we were talking boat building.   He that he and a buddy had built a Chesapeake Light Craft kayak, a Shearwater hybrid model, if I recall.  This guy, being wind tunnel model maker, is a top-flight craftsman.  So, the kayak that he helped on, was naturally immaculate.  It was even featured on CLC's web page.  He showed me some pictures at work, and that night I back to CLC's site to have a closer look at something else that had earlier caught my eye.  A small cruising sailboat.  Yes, PocketShip. 

I spent that night reading John C. Harris' excellent marketing materials on the CLC  website, and then proceeded to cruise the web for more information.  I found Dave Curtis' blog about his adventures building PocketShip, and read them over the next few days, completely enthralled.  Like so many other PocketShip builders, I was inspired by Dave's writing.  I think many of us think of him as "That PocketShip Guy, " a trailblazer, and by virtue of having already been there, something of a guru of Pocketship building.  Anyway, as I read Jai Guru Dave's blog, I was hooked.  I wanted to build this boat.  (Dave's blog also inspired me to write this blog.  Like so many sequels, it can never be as good as the original.) 

Pretty soon, back on the CLC website, the complete PocketShip kit was in my shopping cart.   I came this close to buying it.  But I held back.  The kit was a little expensive.  And I thought about Dave's remark about not being able to say you had truely built the boat if someone had cut out all the wood for you.  So, instead of hitting "Complete Order," I closed the window.  The next day, the kit was back in the cart.  But at that point, I did already have two boats under construction in my garage.  So I closed the window.  Next day, same thing.  Next, I tried scaling back...maybe just the plans.   Nope.  After many days of going back and forth and back and forth, I decided to  buy the manual and read it over before committing myself.

The manual was waiting for me when I got back from Switzerland.  I ripped open the package and read it cover to cover.  Twice.  Some things looked really fun, others puzzling, and others yet, torturous.  The absolute worst, most intimidating, scary part of the whole process was the fiberglassing and sanding of the interior.  All those little pieces of  'glass, all those edges, all those corners.  Yuck.  Still, there was no doubt I wanted to tackle this project, though I could not contemplate it until I finished the two kayaks in my garage, figured out how I was going to tow it, and figure out where I was going to put it when I was done (besides in the water whilst sailing, that is).

So, that's what lead up to my trip to Port Townsend three months later.  I had finished one of the two kayaks, and was making great progress on the second.  The towing problem was simple...Mopar makes a hitch for my car and it has plenty of towing capacity for PocketShip.  The third obstacle, where to store when I was done...well that could wait for another day.  A year later, I still don't know.  I'll figure it out.  Anyway, the major hurtles were mostly removed, and seeing PocketShip in person...well, the bottom line is that I was sold.

I didn't get to spend much time at the Wooden Boat Festival that year.  That day I woke up in the morning, packed a suitcase full of clothes, caught a ferry, checked out the show, saw PocketShip, caught another ferry, and by 7:00om that night was on board a 747 bound for the U.K. for a multi-week wind tunnel test.   If you look back to the very first post of this blog, you'll find out what happened next.

Why all this background?  And why now, a year after I started my build?  One reason, it shows the power of motivation.  I got all jazzed up after visiting Port Townsend and seeing PocketShip #1.  That launched me into a huge project, one that's had it's ups and downs, but so far has been greatly enjoyable. 

So, this year, off again I went to Port Townsend, in need of motivation.  I hadn't made much progress all summer.  This was partially due to my enjoyment of other summer activities, and partially due to my generally unhappiness with my fillets and my dread of sanding them.

Is there anything prettier than a schooner with tops'ls set? 

This time, I had more time to spend at the Festival.  I walked around, looked at the boats, listened to the talks, and met another PocketShip builder, Peggy, from Montana.  We swapped stories and commiserated a bit about the challenges of boatbuilding and the emotional rollercoasted that that goes along with it.  We are both in about the same spot in the build, so it was good to get somebody else's perspective on the whole thing.  I also met Larry Cheek, the builder of a fine Devlin Winter Wren, and the author of a great boatbuilding blog.  I've identified a lot with his struggles with perfectionism in boatbuilding, and admire his ability to let it go..  :-)  So, I definitely enjoyed talking to a range of people.

List everything wrong with this picture.  Oh, wait, there's nothing wrong with this picture.  Beautiful Pt. Townsend.  A pod of wooden kayaks.  And wooden boats galor!

In between the lectures, and the chats, and the boats, and eating some marginal food, I spent a lot of time look at fillets.  I think I looked at every fillet on every stitch and glue boat at the festival.  And you know what?  Mine aren't that bad.  At all.  Even the ones on the demo boats at the CLC booth weren't quite as nice as mine.  Seriously.  That was heartening.  Maybe instead of the major sanding job that I had anticipated, I really should just be considering a quick once-over.

So sure enough, just like the previous year, I left Port Townsend energized!  The next weekend, I suited up, went out to the garage and tackled those fillets.  It probably took longer than it needed to, and I probably sanded more than I needed to.  But, I finished.  So, I broke out the vacuum and cleaned out the interior and prepared to lay some fiberglass.

I didn't see any good way to 'glass the whole interior in one go.  Neglecting the fact that I wouldn't be able to get the seams as nice as I'd like, my arms just aren't ape-like enough to easily reach  all the way to the centre of the boat from outside the boat.  So, I settled on 'glassing half the hull at a time.  To try and keep the seams nice, I decided that the easiest thing to do would be to alternate between port and starboard for the glass in between each of the floors (I think the pictures below will illustrate what I mean).  That way I wouldn't have any overlapping glass when I was wetting out.
 
As I've done before, and as I highly recommend, I laid tape out on the borders of each area to be fiberglassed.  Then I laid the 'glass down inside, smoothed it so it lay flat, and trimmed it back to just outside the outside edge of the tape.  Once I did this for all the bays, I mixed up the epoxy and wet out the glass.  After everything was wet out, I squeegeed each section to get the excess epoxy off and then waited about two hours for things to tack up.  Then, I took my razor knife and trimmed the 'glass in along the inside edge of the tape and pulled the tape (on the fiberglass on it) up, leaving a nice clean edge on all of my freshly laid fiberglass. 

In all, it was a very long day, but I was thrilled to get it done.

Taping off the edges of the bays to be fiberglassed.

Laying down the 'glass in alternating bays

In order to keep dust and other contamination out as I crawled in and out of the boat with fresh epoxy, I donned these fashionable shoe  covers.

Here's the 'glass, wetted out.

Same thing as the last picture, but it took a really long time, so why not bask in it?

The next day, after the epoxy had dried, I set up to do the same thing in the other half of the boat.  Tape, cloth, epoxy, squeegee, wait, knife, peel, perfect.  I also coated the centerboard trunk with epoxy.

The remaining bays, ready to go

Wetted out.

Cutting and peeling back the tape and 'glass





The inside of the boat, fiberglassed!  Hooray.

The manual seems to imply that only one more coat of epoxy goes inside, but I did two more for the usual total of three.  Habits are hard to break.

So, that's it.  This was one of the projects that, even since before I began, I have dreaded, and now it is done.  Sanding all this was really intimidating too, but I did a really nice job on the 'glass work, and the edges and overlaps are neat and tidy.  So it shouldn't be too hard.  I'll alternate sanding with other boat projects over the next few weeks.

Speaking of the next projects on the boat, next up, I will be installing a variety of beams, cleats, and carlins on which the cockpit deck will eventually attach.  Then I'll start in on the cabin sole.  In direct contrast to the one I just finished, these are projects  that I have looked forward to ever since reading the manual the first time.  I'll get to cut some wood, glue stuff together, and generally do things that'll make the boat look more and more finished.  Hooray!

Its Great When One of My Plans Actually Works

True to the plan I had outlined in the last post, I laid out my collection of sanding contraptions, set a time to one hour, and attacked the fillets between bulkhead #8 and the transom.  I should take a picture of all of my sanding tools...in and attempt to make this tasteless job as easy as possible I really have amassed quite a collection. 

Back to the fillets...I went at them with various tools, but found that using my best fried, the random orbital sander, worked the best.  Of course, I was using it in a very abusive and incorrect way.  The rulebook of tool use says, "lay the sander flat against the surface, don't tilt it an just use the outer edge."  Well, that's not the way I used it.  Tough beans.

I used my detail sanding, drill-mounted grinding disk, and some good old hand sanding, and manages to take care of almost everything that the random orbital sander missed.  But there was one spot that nothing was really effective on.  So, I called in the big guns.  Dremel tools are awesome.  They're fast, they're light, and they'll cut through just about anything.  Unfortunately, the same characteristics that make them so powerful, also make them dangerous.  One little slip, or too much overexuberance and you're dealing with a monumentally unintended gash in your project.   Needless to say, when I fired up the Dremel, I was very, very careful.  And it paid off.  The trouble spot disappeared and I wasn't left with a hole in my hull.

With the sanding back there complete, the next step was to fiberglass the area.  To make things neater, I used a trick I learnt on the Pygmy kayak.  Run tape around the perimeter of the area to be 'glassed.  Lay out the 'glass and trim it so that it extends on to the tape.  Wet out the 'glass.  Let it sit for about 2 hours.  Take a sharp utility knife, and cut the 'glass along the inside edge of the tape, being careful no to cut into whatever is underneath the glass that you are cutting.  Peel up the tape, taking with it the rough edges of the 'glass.  This leave you with a nice, clean edge.  Combined with a good wet out technique, the finished product requires a minimum of sanding.

Masking off in preparation of fiberglassing

Fiberglass on the starboard side, ready to be wetted out.  The port side has already been done.

Sean, another Pocketship builder, mentioned that he had run fiberglass tape along the transom joints.  Liek me, he's planning on hanginga small outboard off the transom, and he figured that to be safe, he'd add som tape to really beef up that joint to handle the extra loads.  I'm of the opinion that it is probably unnecessary and overly conservative to do this.  So, naturally, I decided to do it too. 

Progress is still slow, but at least it is moving again.  And it is slow for all the right reasons, including:

Overnight kayaking trip to Hope Island

Backpacking trips to Toleak Point...

...and Marmot Pass

Fly fishing in Idaho

Evening kayak trips around Everett

 
And lots of other day hikes, bike rides, and the like.   And the great news it, summer ain't over yet! 


So, next up, it is time to move on to the next phases of my sand-for-an-hour-then-glass plan.  I have my stopwatch ready!