PocketShip for Sale

Now that my travels are done, at least until next week, I got back on the horse (helm?) and worked on the boat. In between bouts of sanding, I began thinking about Dave, the Father of the PocketShip blog. Dave built the first private PocketShip, So True, in a few months in 2009 and launched in the fall of that year. He had John C. Harris, CEO of CLC, as a reader and was an inspiration to dozens of builders and thousands of dreamers.

Skipper Dave and So True

Many of us who have built or are building PocketShip have read his blog end to end and over and around again. He's directly responsible for at least a dozen kit orders, I'm sure, though I doubt if CLC ever tossed him any royalties. His influential statement that, paraphrasing, you can't say you built a boat if you didn't cut the wood yourself sent the stock of plywood stock up and up. (Devil's Advocate: Where does such a corollary stop? If a kit doesn't count, do plans? Power tools? A slippery slope, that is.)

I recently learned that Dave is selling his PocketShip and that disturbs me on many levels. I've only just begun but I can appreciate the work that goes into building such a boat. My knuckles hurt from sanding epoxy and my spare bedroom is nearly full with standby materials. But it's the emotional journey that has affected me most. It's a thing in the garage that I tend to, care for, nurture, nuance, and coddle. So the idea of finishing a year or so from now and selling it made me all sorts of sad.

He's got good reasons: Winnipeg sucks for weather; he will live with his son in Australia; he prefers cooking to Captaining. Fair enough. But you have to wonder why go through all the trouble and expense and writing if you were just gonna go and sell it? As I said in the thread above, all things shall pass, though I never thought so soon. Clear skies and fair winds, Captain Dave.

With that, my emotional journey took a turn for the worse over the last few days. I've been dreading sanding down my fillets and tack welds. It just isn't fun and it's pushed the build out until 2015 at least. I finally sucked it up and got into it since getting back from DC. I figured I'd finish the transom, so I laid down the best fillets I could, then 'glassed the area. Although bulkheads 1-6 still have tack welds in them, and 7-8 have fillets, I'll have a 'glassed and finished transom. Mentally, for me, that works better than staring at a big project. It took about 2 hours to sand down the fillets so the 'glass could lay flat. I can't wait for the bow....

I took pictures throughout the process but didn't realize I didn't have a memory card in the camera, so everything I took went into the electronic ether. They were awesome shots of my frogtape, me peeling the frog tape, a dowel + 80 grit sandpaper, and some new stuff that arrived in the mail. Alas, before I realized what the world would be missing, I was ready to sand and lay out the 'glass.

Measured transom area for 'glass. Homemade fillet tools lie about.

Corner cured after some denatured alcohol applied.

Keelson fillets before sanding down.

Keelson fillets post-sanding.

The 'glass itself was cut 36x36, leaving extra for a full overlap of the keelson and then up all sides between 3-5 inches. I wasn't picky about how high this went, as long as it was up at least 3 inches.

All transom fillets sanded and waiting for 'glass.

It took about 25 pumps to fully wet out the area. Though that seems like a lot, it's a full 9 square feet of area that needs a little extra to ride up along the sides. Still, it took a lot of care and fingerwork to get every last bubble out and for the 'glass to lie flat against the fillets themselves. I understand that this can go a little easier if the 'glass is applied when the fillets are still wet. That makes sense, but unfortunately I don't have the luxury of being able to do that right now.

The second side (in this case, starboard) went down easier than the first, as always. I cut darts in each corner but also a couple about a foot apart along the transom and bulkhead 8. I found with the port 'glass that it wanted to wrinkle a bit. Cutting a couple extra darts helped ease out the wrinkles. This took about 20 pumps to wet out mostly because the middle area overlapping the keelson was still damp so I could use that to wet that area.

Port 'glass down; starboard laid out.

With my vertical wet work improving, I laid down a strip of 'glass at the side panel-transom joints. This was mostly because I mixed too much epoxy and it was either watch a few pumps harden in my Dixie cup or maybe I could actually use it for something. Whether or not it's needed, who knows, but the scenario of an engine pulling the boat in reverse and separating at this joint just got a little less likely. With that curing, I opened up some of the goodies I got while I was away this weekend.

Strip of 'glass at the transom-side panel joint. Can't hurt.

I opened this post with lamenting about Dave. Another astounding thing about his build is, because he was the first, he did not have the luxury of other people's learning curves. He pretty much built it as presented, whereas I completely stole (and will continue to steal) ideas from other builders. That's just the way these things work. To that end, I ordered the same bilge pump, solar panels, and controller that Sean did (Hi, Sean). I got the battery box idea from Jimmy V. I'm looking at bas relief art for the bow courtesy of the newest PocketShip in the fleet, in Wisconsin. Chris' propane motor is the likely winner. I'm not sure there's anything I can borrow from Pete's Tattoo because I'm just not that smart.

PowerUp-BSP-1012LSS. Two of them from Ecodirect.

Battery cables, solar controller, battery switch. Getting closer to putting this stuff in.

I hope I can present some ideas here that other people might want to try. I have some thoughts on a footrest grate that could double as a table while underway. There are some cabin thoughts that could work well for cruising. But those things are a long way off. For now, I have my transom curing and I'll continue to sand tomorrow. Small steps forward.