Bulwarks need love too

these photos are pre-sanding . . . I'm not that sloppy

a massive bit of rot here . . . but a few gobs of trowel cement and hey presto! No one will ever know the difference

 I always think I’m going to really tackle the inside of the bulwarks and the scuppers and sand the bejeezus out of them so they're all nice and smooth and lovely . . . but then I run out of time—plus, it’s been raining nonstop here so I’m sanding and filling and painting between storms.  Not the best way to work, but poor Jeffie needs to get in the water.  I decided to concentrate o the outboard side this year—boy were there enormous cracks.  Thank god once again for Interlux trowel cement and a detail sander.

I haven’t taken photos of the results yet but I will tomorrow.  Painted all the black, and the “gold” second rub-rail.  Tomorrow: red sheer strake, and the hull.  

That bronze top rub-rail will never stay shiny so I just sanded it until all the really nasty blue bits  (and paint from years ago) came off.   Looks kinds rustic.

I can see now that the inboard parts will be another rush job, as will be the deck.  Sigh.  Where does the summer go?

The 3rd year’s the charm . . . so they say

 Jeff Brown arrived in my yard a little late this year, what with the rain that wouldn’t stop and then 14 minutes of spring that kept Bruce hopping until Jeff and I couldn’t stand it anymore, and convinced him to step away from the travel lift and drag Jeff down to my house for his 3^rd year of refurbishment.

Paul says it takes 3 years of paint on the hull before the planks don't show through and the topsides look all smooth. I am willing to believe that.

There’s a couple of spots of rot on the hull but apart from that, it’s back to business as usual.

See that little dark spot about 8" to the right of the bowsprit chainplate (or whatever it's called)?  That is the hole. Not awful, but still unnerving. Bring on the epoxy!

Sanded and painted the bottom last week—before more rain set in.

 

 Louisa from the Historical Society has a knack of making me look about as dorky as I can get--someday I'm gonna make her photograph me with my hair down and in an evening gown--but still with a paintbrush in my hand.

 Jeff has a new pal—Dave the pilot, who helped us step the mast last year. He took the blocks home over the winter and refinished them—snazzy!  He’s also doing the boom and the jib club so all the spars will be done this year.

 

I still would like to take the deck down to wood but who knows when I’ll get around to it.

Barnacles the size of buffalo teeth.  Jeff no longer has a worm shoe so this is what shows up to party during the summer.

The rudder looks like crap, and I took all kinds of gook out of it, but Paul says he has heard of a new remedy, recommended by "the boys at the boat yard,” wherever that is, it’s not like we have a limited supply of 'em around here.  The miracle unguent is, apparently, (wait for it) Crisco cooking fat. You can fill the cracks with it and it makes a nice water-tight seal between one piece of wooden crud and the other, and it expands and contracts with the wood.  Plus, it’s organic so doesn’t hurt the fishies.  I have my doubts, but who can argue with the boys at the boat yard? Praise be unto them if this works.

The new plank

Just in case you wanted to see the almost-finished product.


Still has to be shaped, but this might do the trick.
Of course the weather is about to turn bitter cold so "shaping" could be a euphemism.
Don is bringing an odd-looking contraption on Sunday that looks like a big white hookah but which actually might be able to steam the old thing.

Meanwhile, Jeff Brown is still in the water, waiting for Bruce to haul him out.  Let us hope he does not wait till February like the year before last.  That was sort of disastrous. Paul has already had to replace a pump battery.  Sinking at the dock is NOT an option.

Stay tuned!

Don to the rescue

 My friend Don went to boatbuilding school in Eastport, Maine, but these days prefers to loaf around in Florida in the winter, repairing his own boat, and come up to CT in the summer to help his brother do carpentry and help me extricate myself out of all the maritime messes I seem to get myself into. He also loves to fish and figured that maybe Tallulah could offer him an opportunity that the other boats in my yard could not.  He really wanted to “audition” by way of helping replace this plank, so he could prove to Paul and the waterfront gang that 2 years in Eastport Maine was not just one wild party (if you know Eastport, you will understand that I jest).  But we had a difference of opinion when it came to transferring measurements onto the pattern.  I preferred the white sticky-label method of my new idol Lou Sauzedde, but Don preferred the old compass-and-curve method, which I thought depended too much on guessing where the apex of the curve was, and relying on a measurement that is really taken on an angle instead of straight up and down.  But as Paul said, quoting Willets Ansel, there are a hundred ways to build a boat . . . and all of them are right. 

So first we tried to get all the black goo and 5200 out from all the crevices (I’d done most of it but Don was being a madman).   

 

Then we resined up all the ribs, one of which was cracked.  (I used office clips to glue back some of the planks that had gotten knocked off when we removed the old one) Oh well!  Moving along . . . .

Then we mixed up my favorite red filler, which holds Jeff Brown together, along with some silica powder, and put it in some of the rotted bits.

Don brought some very thin plywood and we cut that to match up with the plank hole as best as we could, and glued the pieces together.

 

Then we laid out the sucker on the piece of cedar that Paul gave us, which Don had planed down (he’s a handy lad). You can see Peanut in the background, which got winterized today (and started up! )

Then Don got out his spiling-compass and made the marks from the bottom and top edge of the adjacent planks.  We used a long piece of thin crown moulding for the batten to draw the curve.

 

I have forgotten to take a photo of the cut plank, which is now sitting on the boat in the rain and wind, “acclimating,” and waiting for next week when we smooth it down, steam it up a bit, and fasten it to .  That oughtta be a laugh riot.

But wait! There’s more! Introducing Jeff’s new friend, Tallulah

 I had thought we’d be all done (pretty much) last week when Jeff’s rig came out (and I got a black eye fighting with the boom) but Paul took one of his trips to Maine and came back with a little tender that he actually didn’t want—he was going up to look at a different dinghy which, in his words, was “a real sexpot,” but apparently in need of lots of work.  Now, I have never thought of tiny rowboats as sexpots but that is because I am not one of the maritime elite.  The owner of said sexpot apparently did not want to part with it, but instead led Paul over to another part of his yard where this pretty thing had been waiting for about 5 years for someone to come along and rescue it.

And so, as many boats do, it ended up in my yard.   

 

The man who owned her had us take a photo of the name, which Rhonda and her designer at Boat Lettering to You replicated so that I can buy a vinyl stick-on if I need to, instead of trying to paint it.  At first we thought it could be the dinghy for Jeff Brown but jeezum it’s more that half his size (13’).  Then Paul thought it could be the tender for Peanut, whom you have not met here but which I should probably include here just so you can see the other boat in my yard.

Peanut, whose name we all hate but can’t think of a better one, was built in Noank in 1913 by a guy named Smith and was used as a launch to take the hoi polloi out to their yachts.  It was being offered to the Historical Society and Paul and Bruce went to fetch it from Wethersfield (a town not exactly known for its waterfront) and bring it back home.  We’ve found a slip for it next year, but still, someone has to claim it.  It has a cute little 1-stroke engine in it that has a bit of a compression problem . . . but we won’t go into that now.  So then Paul thought that Tallulah would be a great dinghy for Peanut because its slip will not really be very accessible from land unless you leap over Dave’s boat, and while Dave is a very nice guy and is coughing up the slip, I don’t think he wants much traipsing back and forth across his gleaming white fiberglass and teak decks.

 

So as you can see, Tallulah is very cute indeed; she was built in the early 1930’s and did a bit of hoi-polloi transport herself. 

But time and tide wreak havoc on one’s bones, and poor T needed to swell up to see if she needed any plank replacing.

You will recall I am an absolute doofus when it comes to this stuff.

Paul apparently is unfazed by my continued ineptitude.

But we also have Don, who actually went to wooden boat school in Eastport, Maine (thank the gods) and he looked Miss Bankhead over and we both decided that one plank was so nasty that it had to come out.

 

But first we had to swell her up a bit so I watered her twice a day; Paul put some felt in the bottom and miracles occurred.

Sadly, the offending plank didn’t get any better, plus it was split,  so Don and I took it out—it was all mushy at the stern (which is not too wonderful anyway).

Since I was still a plank-replacing greenhorn I started watching this fabulous guy on YouTube, Master Shipwright Louis Sauzedde, who has this 8 or 10  part series on repairing one of my favorite boats—the Herreshoff 12 ½--remember me drooling about it a few posts ago?  Paul snorted coffee out his nose when I told him this—apparently they wouldn’t be too good around here—they’re designed for lakes or calm water.  But I digress.

Anyway, I am in love with Master Shipwright Louis Sauzedde, because he is so damn cute, and because I actually understand what he is doing. He teaches us how to make a pattern from plywood and then with some sticky white labels and a black marker how to transfer it perfectly onto our wood, which in our case is a big old cedar plank 13’ long that Paul found somewhere.  I don’t ask anymore.  I just marvel. 

Don is going to plane it down, and also has some ideas about how to transfer the pattern but I really like this method.

We’ll see.

So Sunday I started scraping and sanding the bottom just to get all the crud out of the way, and boy was there a lot of it.  Whoever had this boat before us did not scrimp on the 5200.

Here is a view of one side done, one side not. Note Peanut in the background, behind my laundry.

Because it’s been so dry lately, and because Talulah has been upside down for a few weeks, there are some enormous gaps between the planks which really have me scared.  Our new plank will fit well but what are we going to do with these arroyos between the others, especially between the garboard planks and the keel?

 

Jeff, I take back everything I ever said about your bottom.

Stay tuned—this weekend should be plank replacement day. At least one section will be tight, as we sink to the bottom.

Time to go . . .

Jeff's waiting at Bruce's boatyard a bit before he gets hauled out for the winter. I guess your bottom is better in than out, once you get this old. :)  Another season comes to a close.  Next year I think I will pay lots more attention to the deck, and the scuppers, which are pretty lumpy.  Where did I put my heat gun?
Also, this will be the 3rd year of topside paint, and according to Paul, the 3rd year is when the finish starts to really look nice.
Also, I think we're going to have new travelers.
Can the old thing get much cuter???
Stay tuned!

Jeff enters the Wooden Boat Race--it's a nail-biter!

Actually, I kid.
It was rather sad, especially since these AMAZING wooden boats all converged at the behest of a guy who's this boat-racing and restoration god, and were supposed to race Saturday but it was supposed to blow 30mph so it was postponed till Sunday which was as flat a calm as I have ever seen.

I was not on Jeff Brown, since I had to work at a running race in the morning, but I flew back, scrambling from point to point on the shore, borrowing binoculars and marveling with a few other spectators that the big "Class A" boats had to do this monster loop in no wind at all . . . fortunately there were many "rescue"boats standing by, including my uncle's dragger, to tow 'em all in, poor dears, except for the one or two that had motors. 

But it was a lovely sight.  My new friend Guy, who has forgotten more about sailing than most people learn in a lifetime, took all these photos.  I wish I could identify the boats but they included  some new York 30s, a Stuart Knockabout (oh my god what a lovely boat), some watch Hill 15s, 3 (count 'em) Rozinantes, a cutter, a Fish, a Marlin, a Crowninshield, and a bunch more.
 And of course a Smackee.
Here he is, leaving the cutter in the dust. Look at that roaring wind, willya?

Do you know who was aboard?  I will tell you who--an Olympic sailor (Barcelona) and Don Street, the guy who wrote the definitive book about sailing in the Bahamas.  Plus Charlie, who's like Guy.
I am surrounded by  talent here.  Why oh why won't any of it rub off on me???

Here they are earlier, with a bit of a breeze.  That was about as wild as it got.

I am praying that this is held again next year.  Jeff and I will be ready.  I have GOT to see more of those boats close up.  Paul was skipper of the Crowninshield, called The Kid.  The Knockabout was a famous boat called Ben My Chree, which I think means "My dear heart" in Gaelic; anyway it has had tons of documentaries done on it because it is such a fabulous restoration.

So now unfortunately I have a new favorite boat, based on all the prettiness I saw Sunday. It's a Herreshoff 12 1/2 fiberglass hull, gaff rig.  Sigh.