From the ridiculous to the (in perspective) sublime . . . and back to the really sublime

 Maryan and I kayaked around the wooden boat show at the Seaport on the 28^th—seen from the cheap seats (the water).

Here’s me kissing the stern of the Emma C. Berry, whom I’ve grown to love (and through editing the book have come to know more about than any boat I’ve ever heard about).

Then we went up the river a bit to see the 1920’s-era Klang II, a hapless collection of planks calling itself a “channel yawl,” and having been rescued from where it had sunk (for the 6^th time) in the Connecticut River as few years ago.

Apparently it was pressed into service in WWII to cruise about looking for submarines, and the two lads who rescued it, at no small expense, have now started a 501 c 3 to raise money to keep it afloat http://www.klang2.org/

I have to confess, it did my heart a bit of good to see that there were some ancient wooden boats out here that need lots more help than Jeff Brown.  Mean of me but there it is.  As Maryan said, “I’m glad we got to see it before it went the way of, presumably, Klang I.”

  So slowly, slowly I sand and prime, sand and prime.  Wonder about the massive caulking that will have to be done.  Paul assuring me he will come this week and do the major repairs.  July 4^th came and went and Jeff did not get a chance to be out there eliciting envy on his mooring.

Don and I kayaked around Ram and Gates Island on the 4th looking for bass (none) and came back by way of passing the 1915 sardine carrier Grayling on her mooring.  My god what a phenomenal job they have done.  That hull has GOT to have a fiberglass shell on it—there is no way the planks could be so fair.  I wept with inadequacy as we passed. 

Hopefully this week I will finish priming the deck and then can paint the bulwarks and sheerstrake to show “my public” that at lest something is happening.  I will have to paint around Paul’s repairs a bit, but so what.  Take that, Grayling!

Caulked and ready to sand (for the 5th time)

Today I am on the prowl for 8" sanding discs. The hull sanding will send me straight into the pulmonary ward, I am sure.
Nora has been scraping the deck.
Paul promises doing something technical to the place where the hull meets the keel and the stem.  It involves cotton, and a tool that looks like a hoof pick.
Apparently it is an art, and though I have become an Acolyte epoxy and caulk applier, I really need the hazing ritual and the secret handshake to repair this particular seam.
Which, since it's the part that keeps the thing afloat, is probably a good thing.