Love Me Tender, Volume II



Transferring the plans to plywood.

Contruction of the Eastport Pram is underway.  As was the case with PocketShip, the first step is to lay out the parts on the plywood.  This is done by transferring the full size plans to the plywood using a punch awl, and then playing a giant game of connect-the-dots with a pencil.  The Eastport Pram's plans are fantastic.  Most of the parts are arranged on the plans the same way they are supposed to be arranged on the plywood, so there isn't much jiggering the plans around to get everything to fit required.  Just roll 'em out and mark away.  Kudos to CLC...these are really well thought out.  As a bonus, since this is a much smaller boat, laying out the parts didn't take too much time (compared to the 50+ hours required for PocketShip).

Transom doublers

Some quick jigsaw/circular saw work was all it took to cut all the parts out, bringing me to where I would have started if I had just bought the kit.  Next up, epoxy started flowing as I glued all the transom and take-apart bulkhead doublers together.  Also, taking a lesson learned from building the Pram's 1/2-scale sibling, the CLC Cradle Boat, I've decided to pre-coat interior surfaces with epoxy and sand them prior to stitching....hopefully that will make things easier down the road.



Epoxy flows!

Sunshine

We have a lot of cool, gray, wet days here in the Pacific Northwest.  But the sun does come out from time to time.  And it turns out that when it does, living through the gray and the drizzle is well worth it.  The daylight hours are long.  The most sophisticated man-made climate control apparatus can only dream of making achieving the temperatures and humidity that we get naturally.  The wind carries the fresh smell of the sea, with just a hint of sweetness of land that it picked up as in funneled in through the Strait of Juan de Fuca and tumbled down in the the Puget Sound basin.   All around, the waters turn a sparkling blue, the greens and browns of the land pop out, and sparkling white snow capped peaks form the backdrop.  Yes, sunny days in the Pacific Northwest are nothing short of idyllic.

Of course, the natural thing to do when blessed with such a day is to take to your boat and surround yourself in the glory of it all.  Yea verily, it would be ungrateful, almost immoral, not to enjoy such a blessing by gliding about under a full spread of canvas!

Yet the perfection of the moment is always fleeting.  For, at least during the spring, these days never come on a weekend, and the tug of responsibility that comes with remembering that work comes again tomorrow compels one to return to the dock.  Which is well, because lacking coercion, it is quite likely that one would never turn for home.

Link to HD Version on Youtube



I was playing with Time Lapse video...



Bouncing Around

From the Log of Solitude III:
April 1, 2013

"With the days getting longer, I decided to make my first attempt at an after work sailing adventure on a beautiful Spring day.  I snuck out of work a little early and had the boat in the water by 4:30pm.  The weather was sunny warm...62 deg F, with a fresh breeze out of the S.  Nearby Paine Field was reporting winds at 12kts, but down in the harbor it was feeling closer to 18kts.  Jetty Island provides little protection from southerlies and thus I encountered a bit of chop as I headed down rive.  It became rougher as I got closer to the saltwater.  Winds, tides and currents combined to create fairly active waters as I exited the river, with steep wind waves of ~3-4'.  Solitude took the waves well, sending spray flying as she plowed headlong into oncoming waves. 

"As I pushed on, though, things became even rougher, and the boat started pounding as she dropped off the crests of the waves.  I changed course slightly to take the waves over the port bow, in hopes that it would ease the ride, but to little effect.  Whitecaps dotted the agitated waters of the bay.  Deciding that I wasn't really interested in using both hands to try to get the sails up while using at least on foot to try to keep Solitude's nose pointed into the wind while having the boat drop out from underneath me every 10 sec, I gave up on the idea of sailing and turned for home.  I put the helm hard over, Solitude spun on her heels, caught the now-following seas and surfed nearly all the way back into and a ways up the river. 

"I headed for the dock at Jetty Island, were I took advantage of the less-than-ideal conditions to practice a number of docking maneuvers in adverse conditions...and concluded that more practice probably wouldn't hurt. 

"When practice time was over, I tied up at Jetty Island, carried my dinner ashore, walked over to the west shore.   I ate on the sandy shores, watching bald eagles, enjoying the warmth of the day and watching the water on the bay dance and sparkle.  The Jetty Island dock in only a few hundred feet from the boat launch on the mainland...today proved that your destination doesn't have to be far away to have a great adventure."

Love Me Tender, Volume I

As we inch towards better weather, I have been dreaming about the many exciting adventures that I'd like to have with Solitude III in her first sailing season.  Daysailing is great, but this boat is made to go places, to cruise, and to see experience the world from the unique perspective of a small boat.  I can close my eyes and picture gliding into an quiet anchorage in the San Juans, dropping the hook, rowing my tender ashore, and romping about.  Of course, there is one minor issue with this dream.  I don't have a tender.

One could easily question the need for a tender for a boat that is under 15' on deck.  But Solitude III feels like a much larger boat, and beaching her every time it is time to go ashore just seems wrong somehow.  So, despite the nonsense of having dingy that is over half the length of the mothership, I've decided to start construction of an Eastport Nesting Pram.

The Eastport Pram is a John Harris-penned 7'9" rowing and sailing dinghy.  The neat feature about the Nesting version of the Eastport Pram is that you can unbolt the bow, stow it in the stern, and have the whole affair package down into 4'9"x4' rectangle. Not small enough to store aboard Solitude whilst under way, but it should allow me to transport it in her cockpit when headed to the boat ramp. 



From plans plywood will spring great adventures.  This will become a boat.

Although it is available as a kit through Chesapeake Light Craft, I have chosen to build for plans.  It sure would be faster and easier to start with the kits, but after the precedent set on Solitude, I'm not sure if I can seriously contemplate building from a kit again. 

So, here goes...  I have already ordered plans and plywood.  I still have epoxy left over from the PocketShip build, so this should be a good opportunity to use it up.



At Last!

August 31, 2012:  "The companionway hood and dropboard retainers don't have any varnish on them yet, and I don't know what I'm going to do about that...." 

September 1, 2012:  "The boom gallows and the dropboards are now the critical path items.  They'll get some attention tomorrow..."

September 2, 2012: "The dropboards and boom gallows will still be unfinished wood when (if?) they travel to Port Townsend."

September 3, 2012: "I also whipped up some temporary dropboards.  The real, pretty ones will come..."

December 12, 2012: "In the coming weeks (or months), I am planning to strip her of her spars, add a couple of coats of varnish to them, and finish the long-delayed drop boards..."

February 3, 2012: "I still have to make a set of permanent drop boards.  Actually, the drop boards will be more difficult than I thought.  A search of the shop revealed that I do not have any bits of 1/4" marine plywood remaining that will be large enough to construct the drop boards from.  What to do?"

It has been a long time coming, but I am pleased to report that the construction of a permanent set of drop boards for Solitude III is underway.  I couldn't find any suitable plywood running around the shop and was contemplating desperate action when inspiration struck.  I still have a bunch of cedar strips left over from my Redfish kayak, why not put them to good use.  I could even do a little decorative inlay, rendering Solitude's compass-point logo in sapele and maple.

Construction was pretty straightforward.  I cut a bunch of cedar strips to the right length and glued them together edge-to-edge with wood glue.  Use the temporary boards as patterns for the new ones, trim the sides and cut the curve at the top.  A bit of trick cutting to get the inlay right, and the fiberglass and three coats of epoxy on both sides. 

Just have to sand and varnish and I'll be able to check this project off the list!

Gluing up the cedar strips.

The wood for the inlay

Dry fitting the long bits of the inlay

Fiberglass!

A Flukey Day

The wildlife show started just outside the boat launch.

Solitude III sprang forward as I sheeted in her main and jib, under sail for the first time in months.  I had just spent the last fifteen minutes heading west under power towards Hat Island,  while wrestling with the centerboard, which for unknown reasons had decided to jam itself in the full upright and locked position.  It sure was nice to finally kill the motor and feel the boat be whisked along, accompanied only the sound of the wind in the rigging and the water rushing under the hull.

I passed a favorite hang out of the local sea
lions while motoring out of the harbor. 

Sea lion nap time.

The dark gray clouds all around were illuminated by brilliant sun breaks.  The breeze was fresh, maybe 12kts SSE, and I was nearly on a run.  Solitude ploughed ahead almost gleefully under reefed main.  It turned out to be short lived, however.  I was planning to circumnavigate Hat Island and needed to jibe to get on course.  With the wind the way it was, I decided to do a chicken jibe (I always forget how docilely the boat jibes...).  I put the helm up, brought her around.  I came through and on to the other tack, but instead of tacking off, I stopped.  I jerked the sheets and wiggled the tiller...nothing.  I couldn't believe it.  The wind was gone.  12kts to calm in just a few seconds.  The winds would remain fluky throughout the day.

Under sail!

Not to be deterred, I rolled up the jib, fired up the noisemaker again, and resumed my journey to Hat Island.  I putted along, finally coming under the steep cliffs of the south end of the island.  I skirted up the west side, ans was just nearing the northwest corner when the motor sputtered and died, out of gas after only five miles.  I quickly replenished the 1/4 gallon tank, but before I could start her again, the wind kicked up and I was once again under sail. 

Completing the circumnavigation at that point would have required coming under the lee of Hat Island, something I wasn't about to do now that I had wind in my sails again.  So I held my course, heading towards the south end of Camano Island.  Ahead, I saw a kayak and what appeared to be a large passenger vessel coming more or less straight at me.  

All of a sudden, I heard a loud noise from over my left shoulder.  It was like a spray of water and a rush of air combined.  I spun around but didn't see anything.  And then there was another.  A plume of water rose skyward, maybe 100 yards off my port beam.  Whales!  

Whale ho!

Every year, gray whales migrate between their winter calving grounds in the Gulf of California to their summer feeding grounds in Alaska.  Of the migrating population of around 20,000,  a small group of these whales, about a dozen, break off from the usual migration route and head to a secret hole-in-the-wall feeding location...Possession Sound.  Here, roughly from March to May, they feast on ghost shrimp and other delicacies that appeal to a baleen whale's palette...up to a ton of food a day!

Gray whale spout can reach up to 30' high.

The whale I spotted was headed straight toward Hat Island, so I spun the boat around and headed the same direction.  The whale I saw also wasn't alone.  There were more spouts off, to port and starboard this time.  Three or four whales had me surrounded.   

The whales pulled ahead, and the boat (which turned out to be a whale watching boat) and the kayak joined up with me.  Despite trying to keep a respectful (and legal) distance, the whales (scofflaws if ever there were) would sometimes emerge so close to Solitude that I could smell their atrociously bad breath.  The whales swam down to the southwest corner of the island and then switched into feeding mode, working their way up the west side on the island and then north along the bar between Hat and Camano Islands.





Gray whale flukes

A couple of hours later, it was time to go home.  The tour boat, always on a schedule had left some time before and I had lost sight of the kayak.  The wind had abated some, and I contemplated shaking out the reef.  But, as I came around the west side of Hat Island, the wind started to pick up again.  The wind continued to build and some chop began to develop as I beat southward between Hat and Whidbey Islands.  Solitude III heeled over, settled into her sweet spot, and burst forward into the chop.  The sailing was downright exhilarating.

More spouts

I finally got far enough south to be able to clear Hat Island and settled in close hauled on the port tack, headed for home.  The about halfway across, the wind dropped off again and the seas turned glassy calm.  I had been doing about 4.5 kts close hauled, but now found myself barely managing a knot and a half if I dropped off onto a beam reach.  I decided to call it a day.  I fired up the outboard again, and motored back in.

Link to the HD version on Youtube

Gray skies and gray whales, flukes and fluky winds.  What a day!  This was one of the dreams I had when building this boat...to explore places near and far, and have the kind of adventures that are best enjoyed in a small boat. 

Bad Dreams

I had a bad dream the other night.  In my dream, I went out to my boat, only to find that my recently varnished spars had deteriorated markedly.  The varnish was gone and the wood was graying.  All because the boat was being stored outside under a boat cover.  After waking up, I had to go out and check the boat, just to make sure everything was still intact!

I think that this dream points to a bit of subconscious guilt about storing Solitude III outside under a glorified tarp.  Yes, it keeps the rain off and mostly protects it from the sun.  And yes, it has plenty of ventilation.  But I really wish I could keep my baby under a real roof.  That's not going to happen any time soon, not without building a brand new garage.  Or moving to a house with a suitable garage.  So, for now, I think I'm using the best storage solution.  Which is sad.