CHANGE

 Where would be without it? Impossible to imagine. 

In the last year we've seen a lot. The global pandemic has been the biggest spotlight of all, highlighting the cracks and crevasses of human society.

Personally, for now, the worst has passed. Ignoring the pitfalls of aging... A topic for another day.

Today, lets do a doryman boatyard update, a virtual photo tradition.

First of all, we recently moved from here:

To here:

Doesn't look like a boat, does it? The bonus will, at last, be a venue for you-know-what. Let the boat mania begin!

The first news is the acquisition of Ralph Merriman's Pearl, Fleckerl.

Fleckerl is a Tom Campion design, the "Pearl". Ralph's build history is an interesting one. The boat is complete now, but has never been sailed, or even rigged. We plan to rectify that soon. 

Next up is a 1969 Ericson 23, Amber Rose, a vintage class of  the once popular entry level race/cruise family designs. Perfect for an aging sailor. I had her hauled out right away to remove several years of heavy marine growth. She's now cleaned of a few layers of mold and ready for cruising. She's berthed in the water, where fine tuning of rigging and systems is on-going. I've had her out for a few day-sails and, with a new set of sails, she'll do just fine.  

New topside and ablative bottom paint and she's ready to fly.

                 

Her name came with the boat and for now I feel no need to change.

This is what a mussel farm looks like....

My very good friend, Bob Mitsch passed over the bar at the end of last year, a victim of the Covid monster. Weeks before, I had purchased an Iain Oughtred Whilly Boat from him. This is a dory Bob and his brother built and I feel honored to own it. It has a full rig that has never been tried. Can't let that challenge go unmet.

 RIP Robert, see you on the other side.

Then there is the Chesapeake Crabbing skiff from the esteemed board of Howard Chappelle.

As you can see, this vessel is very much on the docket. An older boat, getting a make-over.

Had enough? There are more, but I think the work schedule is full for now.

All the very best, from the Doryman Boatyard. Cheers!

Rowing in Style

The Michael Storer Skiff wasn't finished in time for Seventy48 but thankfully that's OK with Randy. He wasn't going to race in the warm-up event to the Race to Alaska anyway. Speaking of the Race to Alaska, what about those women?!

Sail Like a Girl, with a team of seven women won the 750 mile race from Port Townsend, Washington to Ketchikan, Alaska. It seems they peddled-powered their Melges 32 half the way on this motor-less event. Congratulations to those hard working women.

Here at home, a slightly less exciting victory - the MSD skiff is complete and ready for her first splash. Randy Jones, her proud owner will announce a launch date soon and I'll be sure to pass it on.

There have been a few setbacks during this build and no one is happier to see it finished than I. We have the highest expectations for this simple, elegant design. She came in at just around 100 pounds, not bad for a sixteen foot boat built to carry half a ton.

Randy says:
"Her first launch is set for noon on Saturday, July 7th at Mystery Bay State Park, Nordland WA. The curious are welcome and encouraged to bring their own boats. I'll noodle around for a few hours and let everyone take a test row."

A Dory By Any Other Name

Out in the boatyard, we have a conundrum.

The famous Australian boat designer, Michael Storer was requested to design a boat for comfortable rowing in protected waters. What first came to mind?

"Of the modern, shorter, lightweight dories, the better ones of the modern kind paddle very easily but are tender until you have a load aboard and their speed is limited by the short waterline. The worse ones are so twitchy as to be almost useless."

And so the story goes. Dories can't handle rough seas. Dories are twitchy, hard to handle. Never own a flat-bottomed boat. Almost useless.

But when all is said and done, what emerges from Mr Storer's drawing board? I'll let you be the judge.
To be on the safe side, Michael has called his creation the MSD Rowing Skiff and Doryman has been commissioned to build one. From start to finish, I know well what it is, though I'll keep my thoughts to myself.

The MSD Rowing Skiff is a simple design with all the power and versatility of it's long heritage. Michael tells us this rowboat evolved from his Goat Island Skiff, which is also a time-honored sea-kindly vessel of a certain kind, well loved in these pages. Caution has been taken to be sure the MSD Rowing Skiff is not twitchy, is easy to handle, can hold up to a violent sea and goes like a yearling seal.

I'm not well versed in metric measurements, so the boat plans and I hit a hard spot right off. Rather than purchase a metric tape measure, I decided to struggle with conversions. Those of you with multi-amplitude will understand me completely when I say, metric measurements and the U.S. customary system are not compatible. What is a simple boatbuilder to do when 1 foot = 12003937 meters? Regardless, a fine rowing vessel has emerged, in the rough. We'll be following the progress of this worthy dory in the days and weeks to come.

Please stay tuned.....

New Sail for the New Year

Salutations from the great Pacific Northwest to all my friends the world over.
Calendars confuse me. Where I live we call this the first days of winter. Some people never see winter and today my good friends far south of the equator celebrate high summer. I prefer to look to the sky and see the axis turn on our lonely planet and contemplate the millenniums of our universe. On a long night with the constellations turning slowly over my head, I can forget that I live in a country where my own government despises poor people like me.



Today was short. In the same vein as the above comment, I think of a day in terms of sunlight, which was easy on the ground today at 48 degrees latitude north, 122 longitude west.

Being an aging mariner, who still prefers to live each day outside, in nature, these short, cold days are hard on my bones. Despite natural inclination, sometimes I have to stay inside, by the fire.

Today was such a day. Fortunately, there was plenty to do. We are sewing a new mainsail for Belle Starr. The wooden Stone Horse had to sit out a sailing season due to lack of funds for moorage, but soon (I promise) she will return to her natural element and the voyage ethereal she loves will commence.

 Suddenly help arrived. (never know when she'll appear).







Belle Starr was built in the early 1980's, here on the Puget Sound. Her sails were (are) very a finely constructed cruising design executed in the early years of Hasse and Petrich Sailmakers. Carol Hasse is still in business here in Port Townsend, but I know without asking that I can't afford to have her replace her aging set. And, it goes without saying, our new sail pales in comparison, but then I probably don't have thirty-five years of sailing left in me, even if I have the good grace to live that long.

Besides, it's good experience to make your own sails. I remember well the days when I could not figure out how to drive my boat to windward, let alone understand  the physics of sail theory. Nothing brings all the elements of sailing theory together better than building a sail.

I cheated.
Belle's mainsail came in the mail, as a kit from Sailrite. Those guys are awesome. A custom, precision cut mainsail for pennies on the dollar. All the pieces you need, minus the tools. Believe me, building the sail is challenge enough without having to cut it from raw materials.

Heather is a pro with a sewing machine and we have an old Phaff made to sew through metal. (don't mean to sound too elderly, but stuff was made better back in the day.) Still, the large bits of slick fabric were a challenge and took up the entire front room of the house for days. The main body of the sail is now complete and the task of hand sewing is underway.

I learned to sew from my mother and grandmother at a very young age, but have never mastered the delicacies of the job. My sewing is strong, but able-seamen of old would blanch at the quality of my work. I'm trying very diligently to make the grade.

My bible for hand-sewing technique is Emiliano Marino's "Sailmaker's Apprentice", an exceptional book, by the way. I've recently had the pleasure of meeting Emiliano and it's likely he will one day see my handiwork.
Hopefully, he will be kind.

Love and Peace to you all.

Thinkin' About Building a Dory

Don't suppose any explanation is necessary.

Meditation and Transformation

It's quiet here today. I just returned from a walk with the dog. She's the offspring of a spirited Border Collie, bred with a Blue Healer. She doesn't care much for calendars or clocks, and lives from moment to moment, the all too infrequent romp in the woods. I strive to be more like her.

Heather left long before daybreak, to work at the bakery, serving the gluttonous masses. In silent meditation, I've decided to fast in contemplation. I live in a country so preposterously prosperous that being thankful for good fortune seems hypocritical.
The rain comes down in buckets, as we say, out in the boatyard, and though I spend most days out there working in all weather, it seemed appropriate to set the tools aside for awhile. In a bit, I'll go out and bail an old carvel-planked boat that is kept open to the weather, to keep her planks swollen and tight. Her other, more protected sisters will be patted down and reassured their lives will not always be spent on the hard. My neighbors see this ritual as tedious, but I do not - it is a meditation for a sailor between voyages. It is said the professional sailors of old yearned for the sea the day they returned home. I once knew an old fisherman who, while in port, would visit his boat everyday and sit at the helm, reading and listening to the marine broadcasts. I can relate.

Remember Mistral, the big live-aboard/cruising dory that inspired the moniker on the header? She is still around, though an apparent permanent resident of the backyard boatyard. We hauled her from the water a couple years ago to make the journey from the Oregon coast to my new domicile in Port Townsend. Why didn't I sail her here on her own bottom? You ask a good question. The best answer I can offer, is, a trip northbound on the Pacific coast of the US is strenuous, since a vessel must climb uphill, against prevailing weather and tide. I've done it a few times - and failed, too. It's not a voyage to be taken lightly.

A vessel must be redundantly reliable for an open ocean passage.
Mistral suffers a limitation due to poor design and it's nobody's fault but mine. (Oh how hard it is to say that...). I gave a lot of thought to accommodations, structure and sail rig, but just let the cockpit and steering happen on it's own.

Over the years (how quickly they pass), I have struggled with different steering options, going from a simple tiller, to a wheel, and when that failed, back to a tiller. The hard truth is, on a double-ended vessel, the cockpit can be pitifully tight.

So, deciding to finally do something other than going from one haphazard solution to another, Mistral's surgery has begun. First, I've taken a hardtop bimini from an older boat and covered the helm seat. Next, I sawed the old transom off. You heard me right. The languid angle of a dory transom is simply too low for a stern mounted rudder. In a tack, the rudder lifts to the surface of the water, losing purchase and the unfortunate vessel stalls. If the dory doesn't have enough weigh, it is soon in irons. I could have designed a balanced rudder, but am disinclined toward underwater holes in my boats. So now, Mistral's stern is more vertical. I really love the diminutive V shaped transom of a traditional dory, so this was a hard choice. The change is not severe, in an attempt to keep that aesthetic.

To add more seating for the helmsman, I've taken liberties suggestive of traditional Asian sampans. Since I usually sit up on a very skinny shear rail while under sail, I've added a platform, up under the bimini, which my friend Martin calls the poop deck.

I apologize for the poor quality of these photos. Like I said earlier, the winter monsoons have arrived, which means, if I'm to get any time in the boatyard, I must work under a tent.

 Meditation and transformation to keep a sailor sane, while ashore.

Photo courtesy of Mathew Atkin