Blossom

I guess I'm rolling with a plant life theme for my post titles; can't say why, but it is ironic in that the canoe is being built from dead cedar. Not that I feel guilty about that. I suppose it is akin to labeling free range animal protein "happy meat," even though I'm sure said animals would not be very happy at their end result, on my plate and in my belly. Something for our conscience. But I digress.

As you may have surmised from the title, the canoe hull has taken full form! The planking process was quick and straight forward, that is until I got to adding in the last pieces of the aforementioned 'football.' At that point, each strip must be angled, beveled, and cut to length EXACTLY, lest the canoe be fraught with wonky gaps and ill-advised holes. Nothing a little epoxy goop can't effectively fix, but that's hardly a mark of good craftmanship. However, I managed with only minimal cursing and re-cutting pieces to fit, and I am generally pleased with the results. A good thing too, as only one strip and some change remain, so had I bungled many more pieces I would have had to start adding ugly little chunks and bits to round out the hull.

Stems were then glued on to the ends with epoxy goop, more or less straight, and subsequently shaped into the fine lines of the hull. Seems simple enough, yet somehow this step took an entire afternoon. Maybe not unusual, but I already find myself reassessing my estimated time needed to finish almost every day.

Once all the glue had set between the planks, I set to task pulling the 9,352 staples that were holding everything down. Talk about a boring task, but it is one that requires attention nonetheless, lest I smash and dent the wood underneath each staple.

Staples removed, I then moved onto faring the hull with a block plane to remove all the high points between the planks. Maybe it was due to immediately following the extremely monotonous staple pulling, but I found much pleasure in this step, and hated when it was all over. If you've ever had the pleasure of taking fine shavings off of wood with a freshly honed plane, you can relate. For those that haven't, you really must try once even if you never hand plane wood again. The fresh zipping sound, the smell of freshly cut cedar, the smooth flowing motion of moving the plane across the hull, the curl of paper thin wood fiber separating and falling harmlessly to the floor, and the sanded-smooth finish it leaves behind, all conspire to a simple yet immensely satisfying task.

Unfortunately, what follows this is sanding, and lots of it. Messy, noisy, somewhat toxic, and boring. And essential. Which is where I am at, and I will not write on that any more, because that's about all there is to it. In light of the copious amounts of airborne cedar dust about to be created, I was forced (yes, forced) to shave my beard so the respirator would seal to my face. A necessary and acceptable casualty of the process I suppose. I could have spent a cool 300 bucks on a powered respirator that seals off one's entire noggin (and looks a little goofy in the process), but I realized I'm just not that attached to any one beard, so the choice was easy. But fear not, it will grow back once the breathing hazards have passed.

I've worked some long hours every day since I've been back to get to this point, so with only a day's worth of preparing the hull for the big fiberglass, I think I'll take a day or two to get canoes off my mind. Harder done that said, but better results are often achieved, in my experience, from walking away for a stint, and coming back at it with renewed vigor and fresh ideas. So here's to that, and be on the lookout for the next post, post-glassing. That's when things will get real. And shiny.

Ready to take a pounding on the killer surf. Or not. Maybe gentle sandy beach landings would be a better idea.

Hull complete, stems added and shaped. 

A Seed Germinates

Back at it now after the Christmas hiatus. Before heading to the homeland for the holidays, I had pretty much everything set to fly once I got back, anticipating a Christmas cookie-fueled burst of initiative and ardency.

True to my plan, cookies and all, I stepped into the shop three days ago, admittedly feeling a bit giddy for the big moment. I set to work right away laying the first planks, thus marking the time of conception for the fledgling vessel. (So I've got babies on the brain, so what? My sister just announced her first tadpole, so there). This is really the bread and butter segment of this sort of canoe construction, when vision becomes reality. This is also the most monotonous step of the way (sanding giving it a run for its money, though), but the progress made is constant and the growing canoe hull keeps begging for more.

Planking also presents an opportunity to work in any kind of design or artistic bent, should one choose to do so. Sounds cool and all, but from the start I've envisioned a more subdued scheme that would turn more of the focus to the boat's lines and hardwood trim. However, the color of cedar is notoriously variable, even within a single board, so I tried to at least make the planks look arranged on purpose. Even had I just tossed them on haphazardly, it's still a cedar canoe - kind of difficult to ruin that, though I have been witness to one or two hideous jobs (how did they manage to do THAT?).

Planking continued along merrily, until I reached "the football" stage (a technical term, but still apt in any case, if you know me). This is basically the bottom of the boat, where the planks get successively shorter and are no longer able to attach to the stems. As the ends of every plank will have to be trimmed back to the exact (!) keel line, I continue up one side only while making sure to select correspondingly colored pieces, marking them and setting aside for a bit later.

Which brings me to the now, and all of you up to date, and hopefully all of us over our nog and jolly-time hangovers, real or perceived. Here's to more joy and wisdom to be had by all in the New Year.

I'll leave you with some sage wisdom from the writer Sarah Knowles Bolton:

"Upon life's seas, to yourself be true, And, whatever your lot may be, always paddle your own canoe." 

The stripping begins.

The aforementioned so-called football.

Working up one side of the bottom. The strips will be planed off along the keel line, and the matching  opposite pieces will be laid in.

Finally underway!

After considerable effort in procuring the building materials, and generally getting my life in a semblance of order, I'm finally taking the first steps towards realizing my dream (or one of many dreams, at least). It feels like it has taken much too long to get here, but I am happy to be at task anyway.

Building the forms and the strongback is a critical and time-consuming process, but proper attention to detail will ensure a straight and clean-lined vessel. I elected to forgo this part of the process however, allowing my somewhat limited free time to be allocated to the actual building of the boat. I was fortunate to find a kindly chap who had just finished building his own, and was willing to sell his forms and strongback to me (thanks Dean!). These sort of things tend to get passed along unless you are a professional, or at least a habitual, boat builder. After all, what could you possibly repurpose a set of round shaped plywood pieces and a 20 foot long beam on legs set at knee level? I was thankful for the excuse to drive the 4 hours to Nelson to pick it up, as I was able to visit a number of friends in the area whom I hadn't seen a while. The strongback, being strapped upside down on top of my truck, garnered many puzzled looks from passers by, and more than a few "What the hell is that thing?" comments from interested folks.

Since I wasn't dead set on any one specific design, I was more than happy to adopt the design Dean had chosen for his. As such, I will be building a 17'9" Freedom, designed by the well-known yacht and canoe designer Steve Killing, and is one of the offerings from Bear Mountain Boats, the source of all things wooden canoe (not the only one, but probably the best known one). It is more of a modern design, as opposed to the more frequently observed traditional and native designs, with relatively vertical stems with little curvature (i.e. less sideways wind resistance). The bow is more narrow than traditional canoes, with the widest point located aft (behind) of the center of the boat, making this particular boat a fast one. The size is relatively large, but I'm building this with the intention of using it, lots. Going far and long, big loads and all. And ample room for the beer cooler, lest ye be without proper hydration. Perhaps I'll build a smaller boat for day trips and fun, once this hobby becomes an obsession!

Set up was a snap thanks to all of Dean's prior hard work, save for a couple new forms that had to be built, and a general check to make sure everything was plumb and straight. The stems, the first pieces of the boat to be dealt with, were steamed in a jerry-rigged contraption consisting of a PVC tube (originally, and likely still is, my fishing rod depository), an antique jerry can, some washing machine hose, and my good ol' trusty camp stove. Once properly bent and dried over the stem molds, the narrow laminations were epoxied together and re-clamped over the stem molds again. These pieces will provide the attachment points for the cedar strips later on, and really are a vital component of the canoe's structure. Western red cedar was used for the inner stems (for weight savings and workability), and white ash for the outers (for durability and color scheme).

Stem laminations getting glued up and clamped down.

Everything set up and underway. 

First time for everything

As I've made the continental rounds lately, many folks have expressed a keen interest in keeping abreast of my plan to build a cedar strip canoe. I've never given this blog thing a try, so I figured why not add another self-educating foray into something new, in an attempt to catch up with the modern world, while simultaneously developing my skills in the old fashioned endeavor of crafting one's own transport. So here it is, in all its awkward glory!

Building a cedar strip canoe has long been a steadfast dream of mine. I'm not certain how it all started, but I've got a certifiable love of outdoor adventure, all things wood, and a healthy appreciation for craftsmanship. Seems appropriate, then, that a hand made wooden canoe would satisfy those inclinations quite handily. I'm now at a juncture in my life where I suddenly have a) time, b) an adequate space (much thanks to my kindly neighbor Brian and his newly constructed and as-yet unfilled garage), and c) the gumption to finally get at it.

Building this canoe also represents an attempt to find my footing and a new direction after an extremely difficult year in which I've come to reconsider everything. My life has been marked by many significant transitions, but none so far the magnitude of now. Where it goes from here, I've nary a clue, but I do know things will be different. The creation of this canoe will mark the beginning of a new trajectory, a mental and philosophical renaissance, if you will.

So tag along if you wish, and I welcome any comments, suggestions, or discussions along the way.

"Take everything as it comes; the wave passes, deal with the next one." - Tom Thomson