Saturday, October 23, 2021

A Project Named Clancy - III. Setting Up The Jig

The jig assembly (illustration from Build a Clancy)

Clancy is built on a jig -- a form that holds key structural elements in the correct position in three dimensional space so that they can be attached to each other.  The jig for Clancy is a 10-ft x 3-ft ladder frame made from 2x4s, with a vertical plywood "crutch" to hold the bulkhead and transom, a plywood center mold to give shape to the boat's midsection, and a piece of timber at the forward end of the jig for the top of the stem to land on. 

When building Clancy, it is useful to have both a copy of one of the Clancy books, and the drawings from the New Yankee Workshop.  The books contain step by step instructions and details not contained in the New Yankee plans/videos, but the New Yankee plans are superior than those in the book.  The New Yankee draftsmanship is better, plans for all parts are condensed to two sheets of paper, plywood layouts are included, etc. 

Test fit of the crutch and centre mold
Laying out jig parts

I started by marking and cutting out all of the plywood parts for the jig.  A 4'x8' sheet of 1/2" plywood (not marine grade!) is required for the jig.  I had a spare sheet of AC laying around that I used.   If not for having the plywood on hand, MDF would probably be a better choice, being easier to mark up precisely.  I used a combination of a measuring tape, carpenter's square and straightedge to lay out the parts.  Having a long T-square and metal straight edge rule would have made the job easier and more precise. 

Outer perimeter of the frame. Note the Eastport
Pram draped in plastic below.
The next step is to assemble the ladder frame.  The rails of the frame are 10-ft 2x4s, and the rungs a 3-ft lengths of 2x4, spaced per the dimensions in the plans.  Having very straight timber here is beneficial.  With the way the coronavirus pandemic has disrupted the lumber market, it was hard to find straight 10 footers at the local big box store!  All joints are reinforced by 12-in plywood gussets.  The plans call for gluing all joints, but between the gussets and attaching everything with screws, the frame is brutally strong, so I omitted the glue (which also makes it easier to disassemble later).  
Completed ladder frame

At this point, it is worth talking about the situation in the Lee Boatworks Shop.  It is full of boats.  In a space just the size of a very small 2 car garage (maybe a 1.5 car garage), there is a kayak on the wall (Redfish), a kayak on the ceiling (Pygmy), and a kayak in three parts on the floor (CLC Shearwater Sectional)  There's a rowboat against a wall (Fern), and a small sailing dinghy (CLC Eastport Pram) on the floor.  This is in addition to the shop tools, garden tools and storage typical to a garage.  There is no room to build a Clancy.  To solve this, I added legs and casters to the Clancy building jig, so that the Eastport Pram on the floor could be tucked under it.  So, I am literally building boats on top of boats.

Boats everywhere, and almost nowhere left to 
work! The plywood at the far end is for the jig 
and has already been cut down notably.

In the next installment I'll talk more about marking the plywood parts for Clancy, but it is worth noting that prior to finishing the jig, I found the ladder frame made a great table to hold the plywood sheets when I marked them and cut them out.  A scrap piece of plywood on top of the ladder also made a great surface for coating parts like the daggerboard case and rudder in epoxy.

The jig, now on legs, being used as a work table

With the frame complete (and freed from its duties as a table, the next step was to mark the centerline of the jig.  Marking the center of each end and snapping a chalk line would have worked, but I chose to give my laser level a workout.  

The crutch is cut out from 1/2" plywood, and has several slots cut into it which will be used to hold the center mold, and the bulkheads and transom in the correct position.  Some b2x2 blocking is added at each slot to give a surface to temporarily clamp/screw the bulkheads to.  The bulkheads and center mold slots are vertical, and the transom's is raked 22.5 deg.  Log #1, a 2x2 that is used to attach the crutch to the frame is lined up with one edge along the centerline and screwed to the frame.  The crutch is then attached to this.  This results in the left edge of the crutch being right on the centerline of the boat.  The crutch is held plumb with gussets.  When the bulkheads and transom are later put into position, their centerlines just need to be aligned with the left edge of the crutch, ensuring a straight boat. 

The jig from the behind...

...and ahead (log #3 has not been installed yet here)

The center mold slides onto the crutch and, after being made square with the crutch is screwed down to 2x2's, which are in turn secured to the ladder.  Logs #2 and #3, also 2x2's are aligned with their centers on the centerline of  jig.  Log #2 runs between the front of the jig and the first rung and is used to secure log #3 which is screwed to the top of it.  Log #3 is where the top of the stem will later be attached.

The jig itself was a simple and enjoyable carpentry project, but did take some time to get right.  I worked in a few hour-long sessions on weeknights, and, including the addition of the castered legs, probably spent 6 hours on it.  Everything needs to be aligned with the center of the jig, and squared up, but diligence here pays huge dividends later.  

Saturday, October 16, 2021

A Project Named Clancy - II. The Clancy Design

Clancy was billed by its chief promoter, Bob Pickett, as a "10-foot sailboat of exquisite form and commanding performance."  Weight is quoted at a car-toppable  85 lbs, and when coupled with it's 55 sq. ft sail, the boat is capable of planing "under the right conditions."

In Pickett's words, the boat was intended to be "the most sailboat you can squeeze out of a 10-sheet of plywood."  This is in refence to the fact that the boat was designed around the then-accessible (through Pickett's Flounder Bay Boat Lumber), but now nearly extinct 4x10 sheet of plywood. Three sheets of 1/4-in marine grade 10-footers comprise the hull bottom, sides, deck and bulkheads.  A (equally hard to find) half sheet of 1/2-in ply is also needed for the transom, kingplanks and daggerboard trunk, while 3/4-in ply is specified for the daggerboard.  Various pieces of solid timber are required for the keel, keelson and other miscellaneous structure.  Aluminum tubes are specified for the spars. 

Construction is cited as being stitch and glue, though this claim is not wholly accurate.  There is some similarities to a stitch and glue boat in the final product, in that it is a monocoque hull, made from plywood, held together with epoxy fillets and fiberglass.  There is, however, little in the method of construction that bares a resemblance to stitch and glue.  In stitch and glue, hull panels are cut to very precise shapes -- the shape of the panels wholly determining the hull's final form -- and then stitched together as the seams with wire before being permanently bonded with epoxy.  On Clancy, the hull is built upside-down on a jig.  The bulkheads, keelson, and stem are secured to the jig, and then the slightly oversized hull panels are attached and trimmed to size.  The method is a hybrid, with DNA from stitch and glue and plywood on frame, with just a little of Tolman skiff thrown in.  It is a method that is rewarding, fast, and easy for a first timer, though perhaps not any more so than stitch and glue.

In his introduction to his New Yankee Workshop episode on the Clancy,  Norm Abrams calls the Clancy of "refined model," yet a closer look at her lines do show some rough spots.   The boat is not unattractive over all, but plywood does not appear to have been the designer's most familiar medium.   The hull bottom is not developed, i.e. of a conical section so that the plywood can bend to it without being "tortured." The is evident from the fact that it is flat from the forward bulkhead to the midpoint of the cockpit, with some curvature or deadrise aft.  This, in turn causes the forward hull bottom to want to take an inverted "V" form, which has to be forced flat when the hull sides are installed.  There's an aggressive upsweep in the shear line that, if not unfair, be at least a little of of proportion.  Compared to its stitch and glue contemporaries from Pygmy or Devlin, Clancy is clearly a little less refined in design.  More unfairly, a look at modern boats such as Chesapeake Light Craft's Peapod shows just how far the art has come with the help of modern CAD/CAM tools and CNC machines.

Sunday, October 3, 2021

A Project Named Clancy - I. Introduction to Clancy

Introducing the latest boat building project at the Lee Boatworks: a Clancy.  

The story of the Clancy begins with Bob Pickett was something of a local fixture.  Born in 1929 and raised in Florida, Pickett was a boat nut.  He his wife Erica settled in Anacortes in 1971, opening Flounder Bay Boat Lumber.   His sister-in-law would later note that Pickett "had a strong sense of how to enjoy life, include others, and build community.  Boating did all three..."   He helped found OARS, a rowing club in Anacortes, and pushed for the establishment of Seafarer's Memorial Park.   He also took an interest in making boat building more accessible to amateur builders.  Along with journalist J.D. Brown, Pickett wrote "Rip, Strip and Row," his first do-it-yourself manual in 1985 for a cedar strip rowboat, the Cosine Wherry.  (side note: a few years ago, my Dad finished a Cosine Wherry originally begun be a cousin.) 

Bob Pickett

The boat was was to become Clancy was born as Pickett's second effort, developed "in response to the need for a safe, small, lightweight, high-performance sailboat of distinction that was fully within the reach of any beginning builder.  He commissioned the design from Richard S. Kolin, a Pacific Northwest boat designer, builder, and wooden boat teacher.  Known for more traditional small craft, such as the lapstrake as Heidi 12 skiff  and Catherine 14 Whitehall-style pulling boat, Kolin designed Clancy to be built as simply as possible using what Pickett described as stitch and glue, though in techinque it is more of a hybrid between stitch and glue and plywood-on-frame.  The 10-ft cat-rigged sailboat was named after Kolin's dog, a fact reflected in the Clancy's "C-Bone" class insignia.

Two books were spawned from the design effort, 1992's "Build a Clancy" and 1997's "A Boat Named Clancy" (I only have "Build a Clancy," so I do not know if or how different the books are).  As with "Rip, Strip, and Row," both Clancy books were authored by Pickett and Brown.  Supplies to build  Clancy were available through Flounder Bay, and Pickett arranged for sails and hardware packages to be readily available through local suppliers .Tech support was offered via the "Clancy Hotline" -- listed in 1992 at 1-206-293-2369 -- with Bob or Erica Pickett answering all your Clancy questions.

Norm Abrams' New Yankee Clancy
The boat was adopted by Seattle's Alternative School #1's to teach boat building in a classroom, and further rose to popularity when it was adopted as part of Seattle's Center for Wooden Boat's fleet, where Clancy's were built and used as instructional boats.  Flounder Bay also offered a Clancy Classroom.  The boat's true moment of fame, however, came in 1995, when Norm Abram built a Clancy during a special two-part episode of his PBS program, The New Yankee Workshop. 

The Picketts sold Flounder Bay Boat Lumber and retired around 2003.  Bob Pickett passed away in 2018.  A mural of Bob and Erica rowing a gig with members of OARS can be seen right across from the old Flounder Bay location on 3rd and O St, in Anacortes.

In "Build a Clancy," Pickett and Brown wrote that while Clancy is perfect for first time boat builders, "but veteran do-it-youselfers, experienced carpenters, and Old Salts, too, will enjoy the challenge."    

Sunday, February 14, 2021

The Refit

Solitude III is now over 8 years old.  Through the years, wear and tear have accumulated: bumps and bruises from encounters with docks, fading paint from being stored outside, even a few imperfections that lingered from the original build.   Looking at the general condition of the boat, it was clear that is was time to do some heavy maintenance.  And what better year to tackle such a project?

The jumping off point for the refit was when I decided it was time to repaint.  The sun has beat down on Solitude's hull for years.  The shiny red still looks good from a distance, but the fading and thinning of the paint was clear up close.  How hard could it be to repaint?  Rough up the hull with sandpaper, mask stuff off, and slop on a couple of coats of fresh paint.  If you have ever undertaken any project before, you know where "How hard could it be?" leads.

Looking over the boat, the list got longer.  

- There were some scuffs and scrapes that would need to be filled and faired with epoxy.  
- If I was going to epoxy things, I might as well fix those one or two fillets that have bothered my eye forever.   
- Some odd discoloration in the fiberglass covering the transom developed in the first few years.  The damage didn't extend into the wood, but the fiberglass would have to be removed and replaced to fix it.
- On the topic of R&R-ing fiberglass, last year, I left the boat without it's cover for a week or so.  You won't believe it, but a jay, seeing its reflection in the glossy varnish on the companionway hatch, decided to go ballistic, pecking hundred of holes into the 'glass.
- The boom gallows had met with some damage some time ago, and while fixed and functional, a brand new one was needed.  
- And much, much more...

Since getting loaded on the trail, the boat cannot fit back in the garage.  Since I would be doing painting, I knew I had to get the boat inside and protected from dust, birds and other "outside" stuff.  I look for a while at renting a storage unit, but for the cost of that I decided a better option was to buy a 10ftx20ft tent and do the refit under the bigtop.  

Boom Gallows
Before really committing to project fully, I decided to start with an off-the-boat project, replacing the boom gallows.  The original was two pieces of 1" mahogany, glued together.  For the replacement, I found a nice piece of 2" sapele.  I dug out the original plans, and laid out the shape on the new board.  I cut it out, drilled the holes for the stanchions and routed out the hole for the stern light.  Sanding, epoxying, more sanding and multiple coats of varnish ensued.

Damage to the old gallows
New sapele gallows.

As a side note, with the offcuts from the both the new and old gallows (don't ask why I kept the old offcut for 8 years), I built a little planter.  

Planter made from old and new gallows offcuts

The aft face of the tabernacle had split at some point, so I built an all new one.  One side of the old tabernacle became the tiller for my Eastport Pram.

Transom Fiberglass

Transom damage.  The discoloration is very deep.
A year or two after finishing the boat, areas of deep milky white hazy developed in the fiberglass on the transom.  Trying to figure out what was going on, I had an email exchange with John Harris, who was puzzled at the damage.  I thought it was likely UV damage from a tie that the varnish got a little thin, but he did not think UV damage would run so deep, and theorized that something must have gone wrong with the original cure.  I suppose this is possible, but I am unsure why it took multiple years to develop.

In any event, the cure was to remove and replace the fiberglass.  This was the point of no return, as the first step was to sand a perimeter all the way through the fiberglass in the area that would be hidden by paint.  I could have gone all the way to the edge of the transom, but decided to leave a 1" perimeter of the old 'glass to overlap the new 'glass onto.  sanding the perimeter convinced me that I did not want to sand every square inch of fiberglass off the transom, so I switched to a heat gun and a large putty knife.  I used the heat gun to warm and de-bond the epoxy (careful not to roast the wood underneath) and the putty knife to then pull the fiberglass away from the hull.  It was better than sanding, but still not a fun process.  I l
Removing the transom fiberglass
et everything cool and then sanded the residual epoxy off, exposing bare teak for the first time in years. 

A sheet of fiberglass and several coats of epoxy later, and the hull was again complete.  Sanding the newly fiberglassed transom was far more nerve-wracking than I remember it being the first time.  The last thing I wanted to do was sand into the fiberglass so that the white weave would show through the varnish in the end.  Speaking of varnish, that would have to wait.

Fiberglass off, down to the teak.


As anyone who has ever built a boat knows, there are always some imperfections that will bug the builder until the end of time (and probably nobody else will ever see).  One of these for me has been the fillets in the cockpit between the transom shirt and the seatbacks.  They never really got shaped and sanded right, and it has always bugged me.

I decided to finally fix this by applying a fresh fillet over the top.  Since this fillet didn't have to be structural, I used easy-sanding microballoons as a thickener.  This process went well enough that I decided to go hog-wild and "fix" several more not-quite perfect (though not bothersome) fillets, some deeper gouges, and places like the cockpit storage cubbies, the surrounds of which just didn't get sanded right to begin with. 

Prepping the Hull

Plenty of wear and tear over the years
Scuffs and dock rash in the paint. 
You can also see just how faded it was getting 

Needless to say, all of the hardware had to be stripped from the hull before painting, along with the spars and rigging.  At one point I imagined that I would just tape off some of it but removal went smoothly enough that everything ended up coming off.  I carefully pulled each piece, labelling it (just in case) and
taping it's fasteners to it.  Then came the fun part.  Nearly everything was bedded using silicone sealant.  This obviously had to go before painting, but removing it is not fun.  It doesn't sand, and solvents don't do much.  It took a lot of picking with a fingernail to clean off of the silicone off of everything.

Removing the bootstripe

And the registration numbers. 
Even these were getting beat up.
The old boot stripe (a vinyl tape) had to be removed, along with the registration stickers.  To prep for painting, every square inch of the hull had to be sanded -- topsides with 120 grit, bottom with 80 grit.  This processes was took the boat from an otherwise passable appearance to looking like a construction zone.  With the boat on the trailer, sanding the bottom paint proved to be a major challenge.  I became clear that in the end the boat would have to be jacked up out of the keel trough and that the trailer bunks would have to be removed one at a time to allow for sanding and painting each side of the bottom.  That would have to wait, however, as another challenge presented itself.

I then started sanding the boat.  She has every bit as much surface area as when I originally built her, and at times it seemed maybe a little more!   As I sanded, the boat took on first a dull, and then a mottled appearance as I sanded through the top coat and in some cases all the way to fiberglass.  Some of the places that were in better shape just needed to be scuffed up.  Others need serious elbow grease.   Of course this is where perfectionism must reign, as every defect left behind will be visible (to the builder's eye, at least) forever.
Sanded down.  This looks terrible, but is
the foundation of a good paint job.

There were several deeper scrapes in the hull side that needed to be filled with epoxy.  There were also some spots on the edges of the port rail where (either in the past or now) I sanded clean through the fiberglass, so that had to get patched.  There was also a section of the cabin top where the paint had developed dozens of tiny bubbles.  I thought maybe there had been some surface contamination, but in  sanding the paint off, I decided the more likely culprit was that I hadn't originally sanded the surface quite smooth, leaving little divots of unsanded epoxy that the paint did not properly adhere to.

For a while I had fooled myself into believing that I would be able to tape off the original waterline to avoid having to level the boat and remark it with a laser level.  In the process of sanding, however, the original paint line was either erased or obscured too much to be useful.  Also, had always thought I had slightly missed-marked the original waterline just a bit.  It, and the boot stripe have always sloped ever so slightly downward.  That, combined with the 1" boot stripe ducking completing under the chine aft, has always made the boat look like it is squatting tail down in the water.  Correcting this sudden became in-scope for the refit.

Leveling the boat was nowhere near a trivial task.  The boat sitting on a slab of pavement that slopes both down and to the side.  The four corners of the trailer would have to be put on jack stands to give it a solid foundation, and then the jack stands would have to be carefully adjusted and shimmed until the boat was level -- I set a tolerance of 0.2 degree, which required some very fine adjustments indeed.  This was trouble, but the real challenge was figuring out which point on the boat to make level.  I think I originally used the bottom of the keel, but that does not work with the boat on the trailer!  The tops of the floors are parallel to the waterline, but not practically accessible when you are trying to nudge the trailer up an down fractions of an inch.  From the plans it looked like both the cockpit sole and the seats were parallel to the waterline.  Naturally, in reality, these did not prove parallel with each other, and in the end I decided to split the difference between the two, with both within my 0.2 deg tolerance.  This resulted in the aft end of the waterline moving up just over a half inch from its original position, which seemed to be about right.

Repairing the nose block
I used the laser level to remark the waterline.  I also decide to abandon the vinyl tape boot stripe and switch to a painted stripe, 2 inches vertical.  This makes the strip itself vary in width with the changing angle of the hull, and extra wide as the bottom of it wraps around the chine, but sets the upper and lower edges at constant waterlines, which is much better visually.

With the boat jacked up, I also noticed the the leading edge of the keel had been beat up.  I refaired this with silica-thickened epoxy and a layer of fiberglass.

Bottom Paint

Setting up the painting tent.
After what seemed lite decades of sanding, I finally started applying new paint, starting with the bottom.  To keep the boat out of the weather and dust while I was painting, I bought a cheap 10-ft x 20-ft tent online.  I threw up the tent up over my boat and got started.  There's nothing more rewarding than applying paint.  

Painting the bottom while on the trailer translated into painting one side at a time; to access the whole bottom I had to remove a trailer bunk and leave the boat leaning against the bunk on the opposite side.  

Under the bigtop
Things started off well, only to fall apart with I was 75% done.  I had prepped the bottom for repainting had two fresh coats on one side and one coat on the other . Painting goes pretty fast and I was excited to get the bottom done so I could move on to the sides, so I took advantage of the work-from-home world and ran out to paint during lunch. I must have been in a rush, or thinking about work, or something, because I opened the can of Pre-Kote and happily slopped it on top of my coat of Trilux33. I was about most of the way done when I figured out what I was doing. A few panicked emails to Interlux ensued, and I was finally convinced that the only option was to sand it all off and start again. Let me tell you, on its own, Pre-Kote dries and sands wonderfully.  On top of bottom paint, it was a nightmare.  I let it dry for a few days and it still clogged up the sand paper instantly.   I fought with it for some time, and burnt through a massive pile of sandpaper, but 
Masking off
finally got back on track and finished painting the bottom.

While painting the bottom, I also has the new bootstrip masked off and got it primed.  The topcoats would come after the whole side was primed and sanded smooth.

Bottom paint and bootstripe primer

Hull Paint

I decided that I would re-prime everything rather than just put fresh topcoat on it.  One reason for this is that when I originally painted the boat, I realized that I didn't have enough gray primer for two coats on the hull, so my first coat was white primer, followed by gray.  Sanding down the gray before painting, the high spots would sand all the way through to the white, leaving streaks of white primer.  The Brightside topcoat is very thin, and even from day 1, there was a hint of the mottled undercoat visible through the paint.  This only became more pronounced as the paint aged and faded.  Two fresh coats of gray primer in the refit went a long way to fix this, as did the five, count 'em five, coats of Fire Red Brightside topcoat.   

Fresh coats of Fire Red.  The wider, painted bootstripe can also be seen

Painting the topsides

For the topsides, I made several tweaks to the original paint scheme.  The brown/tan/burnt orange color had always been quite a bit darker than my original vision, so I selected a lighter shade, Bristol Beige, for the cockpit and anchor well areas.  I also wasn't really ever happy with how far (or not-far, rather) I wrapped the white into the cockpit, so I decided to extend that a bit. 

The revised paint scheme, now with Bristol Beige.
This is close to m original vision.
As before, I knocked down the sheen of both the white and the tan with flattening agent.  I had long since lost my original ratios of paint to flattening agent, but came pretty close, mixing it 1/2 part flattening agent to 3 parts white, and 1:1 for the tan. 

By the time I started painting the topsides, it had been nearly two months since I first started peeling the fiberglass off the transom, and fall was beginning to set in.  As the daylight hours waned, it became a race against the clock -- would it all get finished before the temperatures dropped.  Evening after evening, I would rush out to wet sand and apply another coat of paint.  Nights that required  more work, such as re-masking often resulted in the last of the paint being applied by lantern light.

I was able to start varnishing while painting the interior beige.  Ideally, I would have liked to revarnish the companionway, spars, and grab handles, but by this point the available after-work daylight was too short, and the weather window was closing too fast.  So, I settled for applying some touch-up coats to the rub rails and multiple coats to the transom; springtime will bring another chance to touch up the varnish in general


After completing the painting and varnishing, it was time to bring the boat back into sailing form. 

After spending hours scraping old silicone sealant with my fingernails when I was removing the hardware, I decided "never again."  In re-rigging the boat, I bedded things with butyl tape wherever possible.  I only ended up using a little silicone sealant where things were held with screws instead of bolts.  This seemed to add quite a bit of time to the whole process; reinstalling all of the hardware took several evenings and a full Saturday, far longer than I recall it taking originally.
Upgraded: new LED nav lights

One errata in the manual that has caught many a PocketShip owner is the dimensions for the hole for the thimble for the centerboard pendant.  The manual gives a dimension that is too small for the specified thimble, and having been lulled into a false sense of security by the excellence of the rest of the manual, many a builder has drilled the hole without confirming that it is the right size.  For the past eight years, my thimble has hung precariously, half wedged into the hole.  With all the work that I had done on this project, I finally decided that the time was right to fix it!

Despite carefully labelling and storing everything when it was removed, it always seems like things go back together slightly differently than they came apart.  The stays had to be re-adjusted, every halyard was completely and incomprehensibly knotted, some fasteners were the wrong size...  It all came together in the end, though.

The final details were installing the registry numbers and a new vinyl name on the transom.  I have not yet had the chance for a post-layup shakedown cruise, but am looking forward to seeing my refreshed boat out on the water again!     

Monday, February 1, 2021

New Pocketship Project

Not a huge project, but this was a little fun side project.  I just got a new phone and bought a clear case for it.  I bought a hobbiest-grade laser-wielding robot last year to occupy some time during lockdown.  To jazz up the boring phone a bit, I took a piece of veneer and lasered an image of my PocketShip into it.  I then set the laser to kill to cut out the shape the veneer to the shape of the case.  

I'm pretty happy with how it turned out!

Sunday, March 29, 2020

Love Me Tender, Volume X

Ready to load on to top of car.  Note the red PocketShip in the background.
Carting down to the water.  Having a kayak cart makes moving the boat around a breeze.  

Initial sea trials consisted of rowing...

And sailing tests.

Time on the water was limited, so the maiden voyage was just a tour of the boat basin 

The simple rig and lug sail were intuitive to use.  

The hull is actually vert shapely, something you lose sight of when building in the garage

The Eastport Pram has excellent stability, making shifting your weight when tacking uneventful.  It has been a while since I've sailed a dinghy, though, and it took a while to get the "behind the back" handoff between tiller and mainsheet back to a graceful motion. 

A real pleasure to sail!

Ready to go home.  The sail gets rolled up around the spars.

Car-toppable fun.