Finishing off

There were a few tasks to be done before the build was complete. Despite almost incessant rain over the last few weeks, I managed to tackle each of these. 

The Deck

A new layer of Danish oil to refresh:

The Knees

Following on from an earlier blog: here are the knees, shaped and fixed in place. They seem elegant to me and will give a bit more strength to the whole structure. We hope.

Knee done

Knees done

Neasden

The Rudder

I was quite anxious about fitting the rudder, to make sure it would hang vertical, be removable and also to be slightly higher than the keel, to help it pass over any snags. I think it's right...

Buttons

 The boat has 'tholes': squared U-shapes which hold the oars and form the pivots, or anchor points, against which the force of the stroke is applied. 

Our thole

Since it doesn't swivel the way a 'modern' rowlock does, the anchor point on the oar must be constructed so that it maintains (only) a single point of contact. This means that these oars need specially shaped 'buttons', which maintain that contact through the stroke and also continue to locate the oar between strokes. It's made more complex, because the oar needs to be feathered (turned so the spoon or blade is flat, parallel to the water) between strokes.

The button wraps around the back and the underside of the oar.

Some well-used buttons

Step 1: Cut rectangles of leather to be combined (laminated). Making these a little oversized will help when it comes to shaping the button.

Step 2: Clamping them together so they would conform to the right shape made it easier to assemble when it came to gluing.

Pre-shaping

Step 3: Using clingfilm to prevent glue getting onto the sleeve, the pieces of leather are glued to each other, building up the thickness of the button. Since the oar tapers along its length, I was careful to build the buttons in the right place to give me the correct inboard measurement, so they'd conform perfectly to the shape of the loom when they are attached permanently.

The leather I have is quite thick: 6 layers has given me the 1-inch depth I was aiming for.

The pieces of leather, glued in position.

Each construction is then firmly taped and clamped in position while the glue sets. Again, clingfilm was used to separate the binding tape from the leather itself. 

I used our usual West Systems epoxy, mixed with some sawdust to match the colour of the leather. This means that the buttons are now quite stiff. A more flexible glue might have worked: several people recommend PVA, but I am keeping in mind that we'll be rowing on salt water most of the time.

Once the glue had set, I shaped each button using various very noisy tools and some fine sandpaper. I am guessing at the profile of the button where it touches the thole, but I suspect that, with use, they will wear to the right shape. 

The skiff clubs on the Thames put a brass plate under the sleeve into which a couple or three bolts are driven, to help maintain the position of the button under pressure. Not having the ability to make such refinements, I have made the buttons a little wider than usual. That, the strength of the epoxy and our commitment to rowing with minimal effort should mean they stay in place and hold their shape.

The first pair of buttons.

Once I am happy with the shape, these will be screwed to the oar, through the sleeve, probably with a bit of PVA glue to help stabilise them. 

The construction and attachments of these buttons is one of the most critical parts of the whole build, as it will affect the whole experience of rowing the boat. I admit to being a little nervous...

Brassed off

 The only metallic parts on the boat are the pintles and straps that support the rudder.

The pintles are vertical pins or posts onto which the straps hook. The straps sandwich the rudder and the pintles go through the round cylinders.

Straps (top) and pintles

I was disappointed to find that these components aren't available in brass but, instead, are bright steel and are a bit obtrusive against the soft shades of brown and gold of the rudder. I was keen to see if there was a way to change this. 

Electroplating with brass seemed an expensive and slow process and I couldn't find a satisfactory option simply to spray the parts (paint would most likely wear off very quickly).

After much trawling of the webinet, I discovered that it might be possible to coat the steel, using high heat (delivered by the burner we use for making crême brulée) and a brass wire brush: gradually stroking the brush across the red hot steel is supposed to deposit a film of brass onto the metal.

I took the precaution of buying two of these brushes. Sure enough, in a short time I found myself holding a flaming toothbrush, which then melted and dropped hot plastic everywhere. I was pretty much ready to give up, thinking I'd need a more robust brush, but when the first strap had cooled, I realised that I had made an appreciable difference:

Signs of progress

I had a cup of tea, then had another crack, taking care to keep the brush moving. By the end of the session, the second brush had fallen apart, too, but the results were very exciting: I think I shall try again to add a bit more brass, but even as they are, the components are much improved.

Looking very nice

All with some coating

More work needed on this one, I think

I have already marked where the pintles will be fixed onto the transom of the boat: if the rain holds off, the rudder will be fitted in the next day or so.

"There are many diseases, That strike men's kneeses, Scorflufus! is one by name..."

You've got to have knees
You've got to have knees
They're the things that take stock when you sneeze.

You've got to have knees
You've got to have knees
They only come in twos but never threes.

You've got to have knees
You've got to have knees
In winter fill them up with anti-freeze.

You've got to have knees
You've got to have Knees
Famous for having them are Bees.

You've got to have knees
You've got to have knees
If you want to see mine, say please.

You've got to have knees
You've got to have knees
They help you run away from falling trees
Knees. Wonderful knees 

One of the last jobs needed to complete the boat is the fitting of the "knees". Not our knees, which are generally shot after a lifetime of servitude to Her Majesty, but the wooden braces that strengthen the structure, connecting the hull to the thwarts (seats, lubbers).

These....

Not those!

      

The tricky bit about the knees is shaping them so that they fit perfectly to the hull, which slopes laterally, but also curves along the length of the boat. In addition, the overlap of the planking creates a small step or notch. 

Thanks to the measured pace of this project (measured the way geological formations are measured), I have had years to ponder this problem. 

I started with the chalk and sand method, which I had read about when looking at the construction of guitars: having cut the shape approximately, a layer of chalk is applied to the hull. The surface of the knee that needs to match is then pressed against the chalk, which leaves some small marks, showing the high spots where contact has been made. The marks are carefully sanded off (those being the spots where the wood is proud). This is repeated many times until, Lo! there is chalk all over the surface to be matched, as there are no longer any high spots. It's a brilliant solution, but takes ages and I rather lost enthusiasm...

My next solution was to try to shame Joe into taking responsibility for this detail. One of Joe's strengths is that he is impervious to shame, so that didn't work.

With a slight sense of panic at the thought of yet another year passing without completion, I resolved to tackle the knees again this weekend. The first step was a bit of displacement activity, which involved some fine sanding to ensure the knees were uniform, even though this was in the realm of the details on cathedrals that only God would notice. 

I think you missed a bit...

The technique I eventually hit upon was very simple: I just laid a bit of sandpaper along the hull where the knee had to fit and gently rubbed the knee back and forth, keeping it perpendicular to the stem-to-stern line. It was slow and quite hard work getting all four knees done, but after about an hour, they all fitted very nicely.

Before fixing them in place, I painted them with epoxy. As with every part of this boat, the finished articles are things of beauty. 

An elephant also has four knees.

For good measure, I sanded and revarnished the rudder, which is also very nice and carries on the mahogany theme that started with the breasthook and is also in the oars and the cox's seat back. (It's worth clicking on some of these pictures, by the way, as then you'll really see the grain and the finish.)

 Wellington Harbour

(Taken on a mobile phone with no filters or photoshopping)

Uphill All the Way

It's December, which means another 11 months have slipped by. There is progress to report, but...

The large gazebo that I put up (in January) to cover the boat kept the sun off, but got demolished by the storms of winter. The boat sat for several months without cover and collected soggy leaves, bird droppings and families of spiders and insects.

This week, we had the tree fellers in (but, of course, there were only two of them). Since the boat was positioned in the drop zone for the large branches they were going to trim, we had to move it and the hardback up onto the lawn (that's what we call the collection of moss, dandelions and other weeds that we carefully nurture).

On turning the boat over, I was dismayed to see that every surface of the interior was covered by a nasty black mould. I envisaged having, at best, to sand back the 8 or 9 layers of varnish and redoing it all.

I was relieved to find that hot water and dilute sugar soap brought it all back to pristine condition. The outer hull was actually better to start with, since it had been regularly washed by the rain, but that, too, came up luverly. I'll still have to lightly sand before adding a couple of fresh layers of varnish.

Before

After

In the meantime, I bit the bullet and tackled the oars. My lack of knowledge and confidence around the fitting of the sleeves and constructing the buttons has been the real roadblock to progress. Spurred on by great advice and insight from my chum Boysie, who has just moved in next door to the Dittons Skiff Club, I took advantage of a few dry, sunny days to sand the oars and to apply a couple of fresh coats of varnish. They look great:

Next came fitting the sleeves: I forgot to take photos of each step, but the process involved wrapping a rectangle of leather, which had been thoroughly soaked in warm water to soften it, around the shaft of the oar. I nailed one edge, using copper tacks*, then carefully sliced through the overlapping leather to ensure a perfect fit. It sounds easy, but there was a lot of clamping, grunting and pulling to get them tight and matched. As the leather dries out, it should shrink to give it the final snug fit.

*I really wanted to use brass tacks, but the right sort don't seem to be readily available.

 In the next few days, I shall make the buttons, which are supposed to look something like this:

In the meantime, the boat sits in its new home:

Noah's Ark

 It's 2021 and I daren't calculate how long it is since we last did anything to the boat, let alone how long it has been since we started (yes, I know I could just look on the blog history to the right).

We hit a new phase in the project last weekend: Joe has sold his house, which created something of a challenge in the boat storage department, not to mention the need to house some old friends such as Edward the Compressor, the famous spokeshave, the band saw and numerous chisels, clamps (you can never have too many) and planes.

The short term solution was to shift everything to my house. I'd like to think that that might then lead to me doing the last few bits of the build: we now have a deadline, which is Joe's possible departure to England. We must row the Waikato, soon. Thank goodness for Covid, which means he isn't going for a while...

The boat in its new home

Once I got it to my place, I bought a mammoth gazebo to keep the sun off: a good thing, because we had a huge storm that night.