Hey Joe, where y'going with that spray gun in your hand?

Coat number four went on this morning. Here's Joe in action... I can't help thinking that there's a fair amount of varnish in the air and perhaps less going on the boat (the mask is essential and the overalls pretty important, too), but it's still looking better every time).

Edward the Compressor is brilliant: it cuts in automatically to give a constant pressure. Just in case anyone's interested, 4 coats required a litre of varnish (therefore about 250 ml of varnish combined with about 50-60 ml of thinner per coat), so we are probably going to use 4 tins in total to spray in and out, plus a fifth to do the fittings (seats, knees and rudder). That will also call for 4 or 5 tins of thinner, too, so around 2 litres of that. Having said that, I suspect we can refine the settings on the spray gun to give a tighter delivery. 

I notice that there appear to be some strange markings on the transom (the bit nearest you) - in reality these are not at all in evidence and the mahogany is every bit as beautiful as we hoped. It's a shame we have to put the rudder fittings on there.

ET's Tent

It was a major job, clearing out the sawdust, scrap wood and Brendan's machinery from under the strongback. This was followed by creating a hermetically sealed environment wherein the spraying could take place without risk of dust or harmful bacteria. I donned gloves  and overalls and toyed with the idea of wearing one of those caps they use in operating theatres... It was very stuffy, so I opened the door, at which point I realised my glasses weren't steamed up, but instead had an evenly applied coating of varnish, giving the world a distinctly blurred look. Or an indistinctly blurred look.

I suspect Joe and I were both quite nervous about the big moment when we attempted spraying the varnish for the first time. Somehow, we always managed to find a bit more sanding or other preparatory work rather than crack on with it. Everyone said it was a tricky job, not to be attempted by incompetents and so forth.

Perhaps it was luck, plus plenty of research and good advice from all quarters, but it turned out to be very easy, very successful and hugely satisfying. We've only done the first two layers, but already the effect is wonderful. The only frustration is that it only takes ten minutes to apply a coat, clean the spray gun and ask Kim to put the kettle on - then we have to wait a day before we can do it all again.

So here are some shots of the boat from today:

It's all a yoke...

So we slipped quietly into our third year of the build sometime late in September. I am quite pleased when people ask, with an ironic raised eyebrow: "finished the boat yet?".... Pleased, because a lot of people have stopped asking altogether.

Well, actually, since you ask, or not, we are very close. The biggest excitement was the recent purchase of the equipment to spray the beast: welcome, Edward the Compressor!

We also bought all sorts of tools to attach to Edward, none of which are a great deal of use, since we've done most of the manufacture anyway.

The last few months have mainly involved a great deal of sanding: we both understand that the quality of our preparation will be the determinant of the final finish and have slipped into an uncharacteristic detail consciousness. Well, sort of...

A few bits are still in production: components that will be fitted after the varnishing. We are tremendously pleased with our mahogany and oak breasthook (see earlier blogs) and this led to a decision to try to repeat the pattern on the yoke for the rudder. 

Here's the rudder, before and after a coating of shiny stuff. We chose to make it from ply and deliberately to show off that fact with the 'natural' pattern formed by feathering it to shape. Perhaps a matter of taste, but we like it:

The yoke will sit horizontally at the top of the rudder, once finished and shaped: here it is in production:

Watch this space for more exciting pictures as this takes shape.

Have we done the one about the Romans?

We've been busy preparing for the Masters' National Championships, held last weekend at Karapiro. Lots of fun and lots of learning for our whole squad.

Joe has also taken on the Captaincy of Wellington Rowing Club, so I have to say 'Aye, Aye' instead of 'You prat'. This on top of his determined supervision of the club's women, who are training hard and enthusiastically.

Despite all that, the project is nudging forward and we are turning our thinking towards varnishing inside and out: the final phase of the build. Apart from fixing the seats. With the knees. And the rudder. And finding some oars.

But look at this beauty:

From the bows

Showing our favourite bit of marquetry

Our-Tholes Part II

So, I am back from my world tour. As I may have mentioned before you really have to travel a lot to maintain your "International Playboy" status otherwise you get downgraded to "Domestic Playboy"... Well it doesn't have the same ring to it does it ?

Here's my abridged travel guide.

• Vancouver was like Wellington but bigger, there was a lot of scenery, bears (apparently) and a disproportionate number of sea planes. I couldn't stop myself saying "Hey" like a Canadian.
• New York is not at all like Wellington, it's much bigger, it's noisy, smelly, hot and fantastic. I'd go back at the drop of a hat.
• England, and it's big brother, Team GB, was in the throes of the Olympics, it seemed in a much better state than when I left it 9 years ago.
• Hong Kong is much more expensive than I when I left it 29 years ago. The waiters in the "American" restaurant are just as rude, the food is just as good.

Ok, the boat.

We've made a list on the bit of chipboard that we used to cover the window we broke with the bow of the boat. It's a complex and detailed project plan and we're going to work our way through the list until we're rowing our way into history. At the moment it says "finish the boat" and "row the Waikato" I think we need to get a little more granular. 

Ok, we finished our-tholes, there are two in the stern and two in the bow, so, like us, we have a couple of pairs of our-tholes. (A pair of our-tholes..??? Go on. say it out loud). The picture below shows a finished Thole.

We decided to ignore the instructions, in fact I actually think we've lost the instructions, I certainly haven't seen them for more than a year. So we winged it. One of the issues was getting a "cap" to fit the curve, we made a steam box out of a bit of old down-pipe and tried to bend it, but we are either too impatient or we are just not very good at it. In the end, we got it nearly right and applied a liberal coat of glue and some "boat-nails" to hold them down. 


Can you tell how we did it, and can you see the boat nails. Enlarge the picture if you can't quite see them.

You will note that the boat looks surprisingly finished. Trust me it isn't, we've got a lot to do and there'll be lots more blogs, oh yes. But the next picture actually does give a sense of completeness. And she really does look good.  

Two pairs of our tholes.

Same meat, different gravy

We are so close to completion: just a few bits and pieces to be made, then lots of sanding and varnishing. What better time for us both to clear off for a long holiday? Joe went via Canada, probably because he could get free peanuts or something, and is returning via Hong Kong, probably because someone there owes him a beer. Charlotte and I took the boys to England and to South Wales, enjoying catching up with friends and relatives.


Amongst several highlights of my trip was Henley Royal Regatta. While there, I saw this bit of craftsmanship from Mark Edwards (now I know why he didn't get round to answering my email) and probably others (forgive me for not being able to mention you, folks). The big thrill for me was seeing the similarity in construction and technique (albeit with a bit of a difference in execution).

The Gloriana, moored at Henley.

The Gloriana is the 28.6-metre-long (94 ft) royal barge privately commissioned as a tribute to Queen Elizabeth  for her Diamond Jubilee, and was the lead vessel in the Thames Diamond Jubilee Pageant, which was so well organised by Malcolm Knight of the Dittons Skiffing and Punting Club (no wonder he didn't have time to find us some oars).

A crew of former Olympians rowed her over the  course on the Saturday of the Regatta. Mike Hart said she was a bit slow off the mark, but ran beautifully.

I think we may have to do better in the matter of twiddly bits....

Knees.

Having thought and talked about how we'd make the knees for some time, which I must say, is a very effective way of putting off actual work, we decided to glue a couple of bits of plywood together. I hope you'll excuse me if I talk about the ply for a moment.

The boat arrived as 5 sheets of "laser" cut ply. The idea being you buy the kit and plans off a supplier who then subcontracts the CNC cutting to a reputable local supplier. Makes a lot of sense, the only shipping is an emailed CNC (look it up) file. It has it's drawbacks however. The supplier, our mate Robert in Australia, has little or no control over the quality of the wood or laser cutting that goes on at the third party supplier. The result in our case being a sort of sooty, dull batch of ply that is best used mixing glue. While I am sure 6 coats of expensive varnish will tart it up, it is a bit disappointing. Robert (our mate in Australia) to his credit, sent us a whole new set of plywood planking, which remains wrapped in cardboard and cling-film.

Where was I ? Ply.

Anyway, we went to our man at City Timber, a great timber merchants who have given us a small rain forest in free wood, and bought a sheet of ply for our-tholes (I really can't believe we haven't had any feedback on that) and it was lovely, lots of fin grain, contrast, no soot, a really nice piece of wood. This piece of ply has subsequently been used to make a rudder and may end up as a foot stretcher.

Where was I ? Knees.

So, while I was sanding down our-tholes, Chris was looking at an off-cut and wondering how to make a knee. However he cut it, there would be a weakness in the grain that could have resulted in the seats parting company with the risers and the boat breaking open down the middle like a banana split.

The answer - the amazing sheet of ply that we are slowly working our way through - the grain goes both ways. You readers probably thought of this ages ago, in fact I can hear you screaming - "Make the knees out of ply you dummies!!!" So we glued two pieces of ply together - and after making a template out of cardboard, and some guidance down the phone from Chris, I made this.

That's a knee in the foreground. If you look closely, you may notice our new kitten in the background.

Nice, innit. Not the cat. The cat is deaf and meows like a car horn.

Our Tholes

We are at a fiddly stage with the build. Pretty much everything has been made and now we have a load of sanding, varnishing, polishing to do. Summer slipped quietly into autumn and then hurtled into winter - or what passes for winter down here: wind and rain, not really cold, but a bit miserable, mixed with a few days where sunburn is a risk.

The big step forward has been the construction of the tholes, or rowlocks, which, like everything else on this build, has been very satisfying as a few nondescript bits of wood transform into something that harmonises with the rest of the craft.

 Ply:

Plus mahogany:

The ubiquitous clamps:

All four in place:

When I started rowing, back in black-and-white, Karlisch, Doneratico and Stampfli racing boats were the most elegant and advanced in design. The holes drilled in the ply of these tholes is our small homage to them, bringing a critical weight reduction, as you would appreciate.

Since we took these pictures, Joe has shaped the tholes to take the capping and we are once again experimenting with the technique of steaming, which apparently does not involve violent mob action but, rather, trying to bend very unwilling bits of wood to shape. More of that later.

(By the way, the blue tape on the thwart cleats (supports for the seats in lubber language) is there to keep the epoxy off as these will be finished with oil, along with the thwarts themselves, the foot stretchers and the gunwales.) 

What - there's a BOAT!

I imagine you're all a bit fed up with my blogs about beer and the rowing crew. (Actually, I've just started coaching the Victoria University intermediate... no, not interested? Ok.)


Let's talk about the boat for a bit.


If you can remember back in the olden days, when we started building this thing, there was a small error in the plans and we ended up making a second transom. We have subsequently learned that the plans are more of a guide than something to be strictly followed. Anyway, we had some spare Mahogany. We decided to have a little play and cut it into strips and glue it to some leftover Ash from the gunwales. I am told this is called marquetry. The series of photo's below show the process from gluey mess to the makings of our breasthook. (Not a boatbuilders bra).

Firsly, sandwich the strips between a couple of offcuts of ply and apply liberal amounts of glue and clamps. You can NEVER have too many clamps.

The clamps are off. Not a very interesting picture.

Ok, first look at the 'marquetry'

After a lot of work with the No. 4. Stanley 

And a rough cut with the bandsaw.

We carefully fitted the breasthook into the bows, and sanded, and sanded, and sanded.

We have had to add the knob on the bow.  This is where we are at with it.

We're still working on shaping the bow, and there's a little more to come there. Mostly sanding and shaping and then eventually oiling, it will be lovely.

Interlude from Crappy-row, or a blog for H1.

About this time last year, I wrote a blog entry about my trip to Twizel (Twizel sticks) for the NZ Rowing National Championships with the crew that I coached. The season coaching was great, the week in Twizel was fantastic, the results on the water..... ok. 



So, determined not to get another stinky fourth, I thought I’d start recruiting for another crack at the national champs this season. A  handful of rowers-to be met me outside the Wellington Rowing Club one evening last winter and we started to do a bit of fitness work. Of that group, a couple made it through the season, many more joined, a few left, and some didn’t show up in the first place. Last month, the remaining 9 women, Toby the crazy coxswain and I traveled up to lake Karapiro for the 2012 National champs. The girls had worked extremely hard throughout the season and had a successful season so far, cleaning up all comers in the Wellington region. Anyway, long story short, the crew got a silver medal at the nationals in our target event, the Women’s Novice 8. A huge achievement given the resources at the disposal of their opponents. (access to flat water and professional coaching staff).

What’s this got to do with the boat you may say?  Go on, say it…



Wellinton RC Novice Women get their medals after rowing a mere 2k of the mighty Waikato.

  Time, that’s what it’s got to do with the boat. I was coaching on Tuesday evening, Wednesday morning, Thursday evening, Friday morning, Saturday morning and Sunday morning. On top of that, Chris attended a lot of the training sessions to lend me and the crew his experience. Spending early mornings in the coaching boat was a good test of our ability to sit in a boat together I may add. Two control freaks, one steering wheel, one throttle, one crew, two opinions. Actually it worked quite well, and Chris deserves a big chunk of my medal. Except I gave it away. 


Anyway, add to that three training camps and at least three weekends away at regattas, plus the week at nationals, I just didn’t have the energy to devote to the boat. I think I can speak for Chris when I say that he had used up his quota of favours at home and his ability to get over to work on the boat was diminished somewhat every time he came along to a rowing session.

Anyway, Nationals is over, and we still haven’t finished the boat, I’d better start thinking of another excuse.

Why "a blog for H1" I hear you ask ?

Not telling.

See ya later Karapiro.

Waikato Drift

Still in a creative mode, but going slightly "off piste" I have decided to brew a beer to drink during the trip down the Waikato. Obviously, when Steve Ovett was preparing for his mile record he wasn't considering a pint down the back straight, but I suspect our world record will be more leisurely, and there will plenty of down time in the evenings when after a day of mutual abuse, a bit of liver abuse will come as a welcome relief.

Anyway, I have been making beer from kits for the last few years, as you dedicated blog readers will already know, but I thought I would go to the next stage and make something unique for the journey.

The recipe is based on a basic dark ale, with some variations based on personal preferences. See below.

The basics

 The tin of malt extract replaces the Mashing process, which requires a bloody big pot (mash tun), about three kilos of a malted grain, lots of water (known as liquor in this context for some reason) and a load of heat. A tin of malt extract is $14, much better value in my eyes. I've gone for a dark malt. The rest of the stuff is a small bag a chocolate and roasted grain blend, this provides some additional colour and flavour to the brew, 300g of NZ hops from Nelson, a stick of dutch licorice, and a little bag of yeast.

Not in the picture is just under a kilo of brown suger and about 20 litres of water, the sugar is still at New World and the water is still in the tap. Although there is a temptation to go and get some from a well in Petone, this will add a bit of local flavour.

Anyway, step one is to seep the grain in water overnight - this converts starches into fermentable sugars apparently. I will keep you posted every step of the way. I intend to bottle half the beer for the trip and keg the rest for a pre-launch drink with blog followers, so keep up.

What have we done for the Romans?

Apart from the tholes (rowlocks), we've pretty much made everything. Well, we also have to fashion a few knees and the slots for the foot stretcher. And the oars. The rudder, we'll get to... but apart from those trifling things, we are about ready to fit all the inside components.

The great step forward, though, was that we have now sealed the inside with epoxy: deep joy, breathtaking beauty.

Before and After again...

So, I think Chris mentioned that we were into the fabrication of the "bits".

Let me explain something, when we ordered the "kit" for this boat, I fully expected it to be a little like the airfix or balsa wood kits I made as a kid, ie, with everything you need in the box barring glue and paint. But no, the kit actually only includes the blanks for the hull and some templates for shaping it. Everything else, every last splinter, you have to source and fabricate yourself.  Although it was a bit of a surprise at first, we quickly realised that this was to our advantage, why pay to have the raw materials sent across from the suppliers in Oz when we can cut down our own trees, and why get someone else to cut a seat 10 mm too short, when we can do it ourselves.

Anyway, we are well into the fabrication process, and this in turn has forced us into buying yet another cool new tool. A bandsaw. Not only that, but after some slightly odd cuts with strange curves, we've now even read the instructions and learned to set the stupid thing up. So, with our new tool, we have just completed the first of our thwart cleats (look it up!).

And here are the inevitable before and after photos.

The raw materials - ok, this is actually just a bit of wood
I found in the garden, but you get the idea.

So - take a "bit of wood", apply the following.

The new bandsaw, a plane and various sanders.

And hey presto, here's one I prepared earlier.

Ta-da. A Thwart cleat (look it up).

The band saw has been a huge boost to productivity, and we actually have all the thwart cleats (look it up) cut to fit the boat, with a liberal application of "the plane" to get the angles right. Tomorrow we might even glue some of these bits into the boat, who knows.

Oh, and Happy New Year to our 17 followers.