Plans? What plans?

How the day started.

It's late, just about 4am, and I've just finished laying down the centerboard trunk blocking. It was surprisingly fun; I got to use just about every power tool in the shop and I think it came out OK. In the scheme of things, it's pretty simple. But the blocking started with a varied-width 5/4 length of pine that had to be milled down to 1" and then ripped to the requisite widths. That meant I got to fire up the thickness planar for the first time. That thing can make some noise and throw some sawdust, that's for sure.

Earlier today, I sanded down the insides of the trunk to the "uniform grey" that's recommended for such sanding. It doesn't look like there's fiberglass on there anymore. Part of me wants to keep it bright so I know I didn't sand through the whole shebang.

It wasn't all good today, though. I called around a few tire shops for those magical lead balance weights I keep hearing about. Yes, they have them, says the tire shops, but the ones I called are under contract with battery manufacturers. Others said they only use steel these days. I found some on eBay for about $1 a pound. I need about 108 for the keel, 10 for the centerboard, and 200 for the ballast. I cried. This was an unprepared expense (and doesn't include the cost of the cast iron pot and heating elements.) I'll just have to bite the bullet here and likely forgo the stainless steel mooring cleats. Plastic is just as good, no?

I wound up buying 25 lbs to get started. That should be enough for the centerboard itself, which will give me time to figure out what to do about the other 100 lbs. I won't need the ballast for another year or so, likely until right before launch. But with the way the EPA and Sierra Club have been pushing, lead seems to be an endangered species, so I plan to stock up on it now. Lead shot bags from Cabela's (a major outdoor/hunter supplier) cost $65 for 25 lbs. While the advantage is these will be "pure" and free of the crap that a tire shop weight will have, it's also almost 3x more expensive. Cabela's math vs. eBay math works out to $780 vs. $300. The sounds you hear are my pockets emptying.

To add to the pain, late last night, as I was preparing to mill the keel blocking, I was really confused as to how do that. The manual says there's a pattern in the kit but it's not clearly labeled. I assume it's the tapered item just above the gaff puzzle piece? So I did what all PocketShip builders do: I went to the forum. After a few hours without an answer, I wrote Chris. He said check the plans.. I said what plans.. he said, the ones that come with the kit? I've been through the boxes and rest assured, there are no plans. I think we found the problem, said Chris. Partly vindicated, I wrote CLC Friday, but with this being a high holiday among certain folks (Easter - which means you've spent all day painting eggs, or you're preparing for an early mass tomorrow followed by brunch), I don't expect to hear from them until Monday at the latest. Since the centerboard trunk blocking is fairly straightforward (no tapering) I went ahead and did that tonight.

Dry fit and the first few feet of frog tape.

Close up of rounded edge, cut with band saw.

Not all the clamps I own, but close.

Close up of clamps and squeeze out of aft trunk.

I briefly used the centerboard as a table top. Bad, bad!!

In the meantime, Chris offered to head down to my boatshop with the plans I need. Turns out, at this stage in the build, I need those plans quite a bit. The keel nose, keel blocking, and centerboard blocking are all covered in those pages. If I get far enough along, the rudder blocking and bulkhead cleats are also needed. These are all things I can do in my basement while the weather struggles to get above 45 degrees.

Leaving.. on a Jet Plane..

I used to live on the east coast while my mother lived (and still lives) in Hawaii. I'd hop on a plane in Newark and about 11 hours later, I'd be on the ground with a lei around my neck and minutes from the first of many mai tais. Hawaii is a great destination but getting there isn't always much fun.

I was reminded tonight of that long haul flight as I began to wet out the first fiberglass  layers on the centerboard trunk as described in the first paragraph of the first meaningful page in the manual. I've basically just gotten to my seat and strapped myself in, only I wish I could just wake up in Hawaii vs. having to actually stay awake the entire time.

One thing I didn't expect to feel was nervous as I was first laying out the 'glass. Not really from anticipation, though that was part of it, but from something far more primordial. The nerves were coming from an area of self-preservation. I thought, if I made a mistake with this boat, the fiberglass schedule for example, I could die. I could hit a stump in the middle of the Gulf Stream and die. That's partly what ran through my head as I vigorously stamped out Every Last Wrinkle and also made me realize I was going to be in this for the long haul. No short cuts. I was going to do this right or not at all.

Dry fiberglass near the centerboard trunk hole. Looks cool just like this. Looks better wet.

Many people beginning a PocketShip have other boats under their belt, or in the water as the case may be. For others, like myself, this is the first boat we'll be building. Now, I literally nailed together a few pieces of plywood and used caulk to seal it up to be able to paddle a floating contraption that got me to an island in the middle of a man made lake in New Jersey. Total trip: 60 feet, both ways. But PocketShip is no floating contraption nor do I plan to sail only 20 yards. With that in mind, I'll be covering some of the things you don't normally read about in Other People's Blogs.

The first is the kit itself. There were at least a dozen plywood sheets on the double pallet plus the transom and breast hook and the cradle materials. The transom and breast hook are cut from sapele, by the way. When I was pricing the plywood from various sources, I couldn't get sapele and was going to settle for an Okoume transom. The sapele transom is worth the price of the kit, seriously. I did the old woodworker trick of licking a finger and tracing a line to see what the wood would look like finished and nearly cried, it was so pretty. I suppose licking the wood directly would work just as well, but I don't recommend it.

You can lick these, no problem.

What I didn't expect were the little notches that hold the pieces to the plywood sheet, like those found in plastic model kits. The pieces have to be cut away carefully (I used a small Japanese saw) and then each of the nubs need to be sanded down. I suppose not all of the nubs need to be sanded down as certain parts later will be flush trim routed but I couldn't really router the circular area of each side of the centerboard trunk. So I broke out the 60 grit sandpaper and got the tabs flush to the edge before laying down the glass. Nub removal will be done at least 900 times before all is said and done. I also didn't expect the Okoume plywood stickers. I sanded these off with my random orbital, but I know there are more of these out there.

The second is the epoxy. There are two types shipped with PocketShip: a fast hardener and a slow hardener. The difference, theoretically, is that a fast hardener would be used in cold temperatures and a slow hardener in warm, confirmed by Chris, the other Minneosta builder. Given I live where I do, I don't think either will make much of a difference. I'm not going to worry about it. Ratios are pretty simple: 2:1 resin:hardener. You know the resin in that it's thicker; the hardener shoots out whereas the resin oozes. Mix it up pretty good with a short stick and you'll be good to go. The manual recommends 30 seconds per pump. I hand mixed for 2 minutes for up to 5 pumps. I haven't worked with "thickened" epoxy yet but that's likely the weekend, after my 3 coats of epoxy dries.

2 parts left, 1 part right. Auto dispensed.

The third is the amount of epoxy to use. I found that the center board used 15 pumps each of resin and hardener, split into 3 sessions, for a total of 5 pumps per mix up. That seemed to make the fiberglass sufficiently wet and clear, yet still have a good weave show through. I should add that each pump is actually a carefully monitored dispense based on the special pumps provided with the kit. One pump of resin all the way down is 2x the volume of one pump of the hardender, all the way down. The wet Okoume also looks wonderful, by the way. Even though the centerboard won't be bright, it's promising to see as I plan to keep significant parts of the boat bright.

First ever 'glassing. It's really happening!

Finally, the manual calls for 'glassing the INSIDE (emphasis theirs) of the centerboard trunk. It's not really labeled "inside" or "outside" so the premise here is to be sure you glass the sides that will be facing each other. Just be sure you've got a mirror image and you should be fine. It doesn't matter which side the hole for what will be the pendant sheave will be, just that you don't wind up glassing the inside of one half and the outside of the other. That could be bad.

I also decided on the cabin sole wood. Many hours were spent on this decision: research, questions, more research. I wanted something unique but practical; pretty but not overly so. My first choice was Bubinga. It's a really nice wood used for floors but reports say it smells funny when it gets wet. That's not particularly good for some modes of transportation, say... boats? My second choice was Brazilian Cherry. But the only source was online and I like to pick my boards. So my third choice was Padauk (pronounced "pa-dook'"). A local supplier was milling them when I stopped by to view his wares. He gave me a pretty good deal - lower than African Mahogany (a really nice wood, but fairly common), and about 1/3 less than I was finding online. He gave me a sample so I can try it out. I was sold. It is going to look *amazing* against the vanilla cabin interior.

The only catch is it must be dressed in acetone just before glue up and finishing or else the natural oils will interfere. It also needs a good UV resistant varnish or will dull to a dark brown (which isn't bad, either). Given this is for the cabin sole, I won't have too much trouble with UV. I'm pretty excited -- it's going to look awesome. I got enough to make the tiller lamination out of it and the rub rails, too.

It's been a good PocketShip day.

It's Here! Now What?

After much wrangling, Vitran, which is a delivery company, not the latest ED drug, finally stopped by the house right before its scheduled time and dropped off my kit. It was pure joy watching the guy (an ex-Marine, oorah!) carefully and expertly lower the ramp to get the double-pallet off the rig and onto the pavement.

This was an interesting sight on my small block.

I had to first shovel out some of the ice that still sat at the foot of my driveway, then helped with the handtruck as he maneuvered the roller dolly into place. I have a fairly steep ramp so this wasn't easy. We eventually got it into the garage where I promptly shut the door wondering what the heck did I just do? I picked up a small piece of board that fell out in transit, emblazoned with a sticker "Okoume Marine Plywood" and my heart rose again.

This is what $1,500 worth of plywood looks like.

Still, here's why I'm nervous:

• It's going to be a tight fit in the garage. I'd mentioned before how it'll be a struggle for space. With just the slightly-larger-than-4x8 pallets stacked end to end, it won't be much larger than the actual 7x16 boat. There will be no room to get around the boat easily. I'll have to work with the garage door open or climb over the top. I'm told, though, that most people work one side at a time on any given night, and thanks to the casters I have from Chris, I should be able to manage. It'll be even more impressive when PocketShip takes shape in such a small space.

• There's no turning back now. Even with the discounts, I've easily dropped some good coin on this so far between the wood, disposables, running lines, and tools I didn't already have. I won't be able to sell this back so it's like passing the halfway point on the trip to Mars: it's faster just to get there, no matter what's ahead.

Two plywoods = 16'. LOA is 14' 10".
Hopefully it's warm when I varnish the transom... or I find a leprechaun to help.

All of this passed through my head as the garage door was closing. But the build will begin tonight, as the manual says, with the centerboard.

Sailing.. Take Me Away...

Just a quick update as the memories are fresh in my head. I had another sail this morning at the U.S. Sailing center about a mile down the road from the house. I got a late start for a Friday after some coffee, egg, and toast over some work emails. It's nice to see, and depressing at the same time, that the office can go on just fine without me. As my boss once said a long time ago, no one is irreplaceable. I like to think I'm a little irreplaceable?

Off the bow.

I got to the sailing offices at 11:00 in the morning and spoke with the receptionist. She recognized me from yesterday and was far more pleasant. When I requested a boat to check out, she asked what kind, and I replied, "A Scot". At that point, the executive director came out of his office and discussed the timing: they have 4 Scots. Three were reserved at 2:00 and one was coming in at noon, and one was available. So I was home free! Except for one problem: I was then asked where my crew was, and I said I was singlehandling. He paused for a second and said, "You're going to singlehand a Scot?" I said, "Sure, just the mains'l," making a point to pronounce "mainsail" like sailors do. I then reminded him I was out with an instructor yesterday who cleared me for take off. The director said winds were light at 4 knots. I would need a jib because he "wouldn't want me getting in trouble out there." Now, I'm no sailing expert, but I'm not sure what people who normally charter from him usually do. 5kn is plenty enough to power a 20' 800lb boat. I'm not racing, ya know? The receptionist said it was 10 on the water. At that, I swiped the rental fee for the day and made my way to the life jackets, pulling down the same one I had yesterday. It still fit nicely, which is why I grabbed the same one.

A short time later, after a quick little bump of the boat in front of me at the dock -- I was on the leeward side of the dock with about 20 feet behind me and 15 feet to port to maneuver. My choices were to run aground, hit a piling, or bump the boat in front of me. Coming a-bump! I'm sure the director was watching from his perch shaking his head wondering who the heck he just sent out to his doom. Note there are no motors on these boats so getting off and on the dock is all under sail.






This is what screwing around
looks like. About 6 miles covered.
Fastest speed 8 knots.



Sailing after that was really fun, but the wind predictions were way off. It was more like 15 knots in the middle with whitecaps in the channel. Hard to believe, but the wind was even stronger than yesterday. My senses were confirmed when gusts approaching 19kn were recorded exactly when I was pulling out into the channel. Still, the sailing was exhilirating and the boat's heeling soon became second nature. The back-and-forth line on the right is me having fun on a beam reach. Having just the mains'il was fortuitous as I'm not sure the jib would've done very well. I found it easier to sail by myself than with the skipper yesterday, even with the loss of ballast. The wind rotated from the SE to the SW by the time I was done. Much of the sailing was on a broad reach or close hauled.

After about an hour doing large circles and jibing downwind, ominous clouds loomed on the horizon to the west. There was no forecast for rain but something was definitely headed our way. I was on the other side of the inlet when I saw it and decided to play it safe and headed back to base. Good thing, because about 20 minutes later the rain came with the wind gusting 20+.

All I could think at that moment was I'd earned my sailing merit badge for the inlet on the trip back. A woman on the dock who grabbed my dockline said as much when she noticed I was singlehanded and brought the boat in smoothly with some nice tacking. You can see the long tacks on the left side of the photo above. It was a real struggle! Another guy asked if I really just did do all that without a jib. What is it with people and their jibs? I wouldn't even mention these comments except for the fact I'm not an experienced sailor so I'll take compliments when I can get them.

Flying Scots lined up after being moored.

I lowered the mainsail and cleaned up the boat, grudingly expecting to have to flake the sail and get the boat ready for mooring. I didn't want to do that because I paid for a full day (ending at 6pm) and it was only 2:30. Sensing that why I was taking my time and hanging around on the boat, the director came out and said he'd offer me a free half day any time I wanted since the weather kinda buggered us both. I thanked him immensely - he didn't have to do that - and finished tidying up the boat. I hung around and talked sailing with the nice couple who helped me get into dock and then headed back to the house. It was a good non-beach day and great sailing, though it ended too soon.

It's Here, Sort Of

My kit arrived in Minneapolis yesterday after a circuitous route through  middle America, much like that cross country trip I took in 1990 in my Pontiac Sunbird, with the flip top headlights and 2.0 dual overhead cam. Paul was my best friend then and we had a couple dozen cassette tapes filled with Black Sabbath, Black Flag, The Clash, and more gentle fare like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. I'm really glad there was no such thing as social media back then.

The original shipping schedule had the package arriving on March 19; it arrived in Minneapolis on March 21, so naturally no one could be home to insist that the delivery people drop it off in the garage and not the street. For those who aren't familiar with shipping companies, they will do exactly what the paper says they should do. If the paper says, "Drop box in middle of street and run over 3 times," they would do it. They won't go an inch out of their way. I know this because when I moved some stuff from Florida to Brooklyn, the movers wanted an extra $200 to carry the stuff up 3 steps and into my front yard, rather than leaving it on the sidewalk in Park Slope.

So, that's why someone has to be home to try to encourage them to bring it up the driveway and into the garage, or at least, someone should be home to open the package and drag each lovely sheet of Okoume plywood into shelter. It doesn't help that it's 15 degrees in Minnesota as I type this. I'm not in any rush to have it delivered if someone can't be there to accept it. And by someone, I mean me.. not my wife.

That begs the question as to where I am. I'm in Florida after working in Orlando (sometimes, work is good) the beginning of the week. I then hiked down to Stuart to my father in law's place. He lives in a nice area on the Atlantic Coast and about a mile from a U.S. Sailing outfit. Since I may be spending more time here in Florida, I figured I'd join with the local sailing club but before that I needed to prove that I wouldn't run over any manatees or kids from the camp. I tacked, jibed, hoisted, and docked under supervision. I'm fairly certain no manatees were hurt. Good news! I passed my sailing test and that lets me take any boat out at any time with or without passengers and without anyone from the club. Feeling pretty good about that. That's where I was this morning, sailing a Flying Scot.

A couple things about this boat: it's fun to sail, sensitive to the touch, and completely not my style. It's also about $17,200 new for a full package including sail, rigging/running, and paint. Or, about double PocketShip. More things I didn't like: There's no cabin, I got pretty wet, and there's no way I'd want to take this out for any more than a couple hours. I may be a bit too harsh on this very popular boat. This is a pretty typical, stripped down racer. It's not meant to meander the islands (though it can). The skipper I was with this morning said people put up biminis and anchor out on nice evenings. I guess that'll work but the footwell was blasted dirty and bilge water was mucking up all the lines. It smelled of seaweed. That's not camping; it's swimming. It just wasn't comfortable.

We were out on the St. Lucie River, a sheltered area between the barrier islands and the Florida mainland on the Atlantic Coast, with winds gusting up to 20 knots. They held steady between 10 and 15 most of the day. We only had the mainsail going since the wind was so strong; a jib would've been wasted. It was exhausting, but fun at the same time. This boat can really heel and it's not a coincidence that the dude in the picture is on the edge leaning back. I really can't wait to bring PocketShip down here and give it a go.

But for now, I need to see if they can bring it up into the garage, then wait for a real spring. Now that's depressing. At least I have some Flying Scots down here to keep me company.

Sundry, Bloody Sundry

One of the under-appreciated areas of building a boat is the many bits of equipment needed to actually build the boat. I'd consider myself an intermediate woodworker with intermediate equipment. I have, for example, a good set of power tools including: a circular saw, miter saw, jig saw, drill press, three hand drills, belt sander, random orbital sander, three routers, three hand planers, power planer, biscuit jointer, band saw, pneumatic brad / finish nailers, and a thickness planar. I may be forgetting some things in that mix. I spent quite a bit of money on that stuff, not settling for anything less than name brand.

That of course doesn't include all the assorted crap that goes with that kind of equipment: boxes of sandpaper in various grit, enough drill bits that, if smelted, could build a small shed, and router bits for every possible decor. I don't say this to brag; it's been accumulated over several years, birthdays, work bonuses, and projects. I say that because now that I've committed to building PocketShip, I still need to get more stuff!

I spent the better part of the last hour wandering through Menards. For those who don't know what Mendards is, think Home Depot for the "working man". It's impressive but I've avoided it, to my detriment apparently. They have pretty cheap stuff here (did I mention I'm cheap?) This particular Menards, a complete revision of the existing one which was torn down only to rise again, is so large, so luxurious, that it has a full time piano player. My neighbor calls it the "Taj Menards". Ever shop for 2x4's whist Bach and Manilow plays in the background? No? You haven't lived, my friend.

So, after perusing the aisles, I picked up a couple roller stands to act as an outfeed for the long bits of lumber, an oscillating tool with sand paper, compass, manual protractor and about 240' of 18 guage steel wire. I've spent more on a single blade for my miter saw than all of this put together. These bags couple nicely with the 10 spring clamps I bought for $1 each (vs. $2.49 from CLC!) And in fact, most of this stuff would have been ordered from Amazon a few weeks ago. What's changed? I've reached the point where I can't/won't spend anything more unless I absolutely have to, or if it's directly related to something really cool on the boat (I'm looking at you, brass deadlights). But at $19.99, if the oscillator stops oscillating, am I really that less off?

Between the lines from a couple weeks ago, the wire, the epoxy, the nitrile gloves, pliers, sandpaper, sandpaper, sandpaper, these various sundries are adding up to pretty good coin.

This is what 300' feet of wire looks like.

Yes, some of this can be used for the Petrel I plan to build somewhere down the line, but much of it will become landfill. That's fine - because I'll sail right by with a smile on my face. But I write this as fair warning to anyone embarking on this journey: be prepared to have enough equipment to open up your very own home supply store. Now, about that orbital sander...