Crate and Bottle

One of the more intriguing parts of the manual is how flippant it can be about certain parts of the build. For example, there's one photo and a few words on building the crate. Make sure S is towards the back and B is towards the front. OK, that's not so bad, and maybe if one wanted to simply assemble the crate as described to sit immobile on a concrete garage floor, that might be enough. But I'm adding wheels! And so what should've been a 90 minute project, tops, turned into a two day excursion with multiple trips to Menards, a few dead screws, and wrists that can now break iron.

As faithful readers will note, I had a mild anxiety attack when the kit was delivered and I realized I was indeed on my way to building a 16 foot boat in my 17 foot garage. I'd carefully measured all ways to Sunday to ensure it would fit, knowing then, as I know now, that it wouldn't be possible without being able to push the crate around to get those last few inches. Chris gave me his casters, saving me the trip to source them, and adding to the metaphysical karmic world that I, too, will pass these casters on to a fellow PocketShip builder.

The parts themselves are CNC cut from fiberboard, which is a material I admit I wouldn't have chosen myself if I were to build this from scratch. In my experience, fiberboard is brittle, sensitive to water, and difficult to fasten. The idea it could support an 800 pound hull with all of its assorted gear (plus me) in a work environment - epoxy, soda cans, humidity - made me nervous. All of those biases proved true as my first attempt to assemble the parts failed miserably. The second attempt (with more robust fasteners) was successful but its performance is TBD. The fact that PocketShips all over the world are shipped with this as the crate doesn't ease my anxiety.

This couldn't be built in my garage, so rather than subjecting my neighbors to me struggling with 50 pounds of fiberboard, I built it in the backyard. Wind gusts topping 40mph made for an interesting experience. In fact, there was a sail scheduled today with the club that was cancelled due to the wind, which is unfortunate because my last two sails had more than enough dead calm for a long while. Not today. As I write this, it sounds like planes are flying overhead, but it's the wind against the house.

I first drilled some pilot holes through the crate and used those as guide holes to continue into the 2x4. The champion fasteners were 5/8" diameter lag screws (1/2" tops) with a lock nut. I didn't have a drill bit that fit so I used a ratchet, many times. As an aside, I'm now qualified to join the professional arm wrestling circuit. To the frame, I added the casters Chris gave me and behold, I had a crate with wheelies.

The frame comes together. A broom marks the centerline. The PocketShip pallet sits against the house. It will become a vegetable planter.

Casters get added. Blue marks the drill.

I dragged it through the backyard and left it in the driveway so that I could clear the panels and other shop equipment from the garage. When done, thinking it would be quite cool to see an upright keel, I couldn't help but drop the keel in place. This was a struggle: lifting the keel high enough to clear the height of the crate without damaging anything, especially myself, took a lot of effort. Care should be taken to ensure the centerboard trunk fits exactly between the two crate panels. With a small thud, given the weight of the keel, it slid quite snugly into the slots. I then set the bilge and side panels in the crate. For a moment, it looked like a boat! Holy cow, that thing's big. But it fits in the garage, like a ship in a bottle, and that's the most important thing.

The downside is I've now lost my flat, smooth surface for the larger pieces, such as final prep for the side panels. I actually finished these a couple nights ago and set them aside. Each side panel took about 2.5 hours to sand and maybe 10 circles of 120 grit paper. To extrapolate that, the bilge panels are at least 50% of that area. Call it 4 hours per bilge panel, 2.5 per side panel, and 1.5 for each topside. That means the total sanding effort, straight through, is about 16 hours. That ties nicely with other bloggers but doesn't count my, let's say, slightly more robust sanding requirements in the poor epoxy areas. Nor does it count sanding the keel. And of course that's only to 120; "bright" areas will need to go to 220 and in the case of the centerboard, it's up to 400. Mental fortitude is a requirement for this boat, which I have, but only within certain limits.

Sanding the nights away. Half way done with this half.

To that end, sanding must have music else it's unbearable. The mind wanders into strange territories, as has been described elsewhere. My mind is especially prone to oddity which is why I need to keep myself mentally occupied. I am thinking of switching from Pandora to podcasts. If anyone has a recommendation, send me a note in the comments section or via email.

Where your mind can wander while sanding. Believe me when I say this is only the beginning...

I also spent a couple nights this week fixing the busted bilge panel. Chris lent me his heat gun - a power hair dryer, if I ever saw one - that softened the epoxy enough that a tug separated the joints. I was relieved when I didn't set the epoxy, wood, or myself on fire. These had to be once again sanded smooth to remove the epoxy in preparation for a refit. It took a long time, but the refit worked well.
 

Finger joints separated and sanded back down. These were "scarfed" back together later that evening.

I oversanded some of the tops of the joints so it will need some filler but I'm pleased with the result. When this is 'glassed and painted, it'll look smooth as butter. I still have to sand the inside face, but that won't take too long. I've also decided to wait for the flip to fix the outside face, which just needs a good sanding and some filler, and something I'll be doing throughout the hull before final 'glassing, anyway, not just that panel. Part of that decision is due to the fact I have no room in the garage anymore. The more important driver of the decision is that I don't need a smooth outside hull to stitch that panel together, and I'm itching to start stitching.

A tight fit in the garage. I'll be working like this often. The keel looks perky, though.

Panels fit nicely. It was a thrill to see this!

The mailman was delivering the latest catalog of something as I was clearing the garage and stopped to ask me what it was. I said it's a boat I'm building. He goes, you are good with wood, and continued on his journey. There was just an assumption there about being 'good with wood' that puzzled me, and still does. It was actually the second time today that I was complimented on my woodworking (one with evidence, one without). They obviously hadn't seen me pulling apart the first finger joints on the bilge panels.

The neighbor pulled up with a large used pontoon they'd just acquired for a steal. The father of one of the neighbors is a king woodworker. He did their fireplace mantle and also the window panes in our house (our windows are nearly 100 years old and very unstable). By any definition, he is a craftsman. So I showed him the rudder and the boom gallows and the tiller I made from laminated padauk and ash. He said they were terrific and was impressed. Now, a compliment from the mailman I can dismiss. A compliment from a salty dog like that made me blush.

Though time will tell if the thing actually floats, not to mention how it turns into the wind, heels, and tracks. That's a long way away, but I'll take the small victories as I get them. Off to Chicago for a couple days on a business trip, then a couple nights home, then a visit to CLC for Okoumefest. While the boat will have to wait, I can't complain about where I'm headed.