A few companies sell boat kits. Pygmy was one of them. Chesapeake Light Craft is still selling. These kits include pre-cut parts, plus hardware, and complete instructions. If you can build a Lego set or an Ikea bed, you can build one of these kit boats.
Chesapeake will even sell you a cedar strip boat kit, but with a warning: These models require more patience and are best suited to builders with some prior boatbuilding experience… The warning continues: Typical strip-boat manuals provide general guidance and leave some details to the builder’s interpretation.
Janell and I found that building a cedar strip canoe is a series of mistakes, followed by imperfect solutions (Chesapeake calls this the builder’s interpretation). No matter how many YouTube videos we watched or how-to books we read, we still improvised.
Improvisation is in my comfort zone. I’m okay with making mistakes if I can fix them later. However, moving the bow seat is not in my comfort zone. Read on…
Placing the Bow Seat
When Janell and Rich decided the placement of the bow seat, they used the sparse instructions, plus a reasonable guess, plus four inches. They glued and screwed the gunnel reinforcements according to that educated guess and that’s where I hung the seat.
Sadly, after sitting in the boat, we realized this was still too close to the bow. The boat was tippy and our legs were cramped. We needed to move the seat back, but this would mean some serious gunnel surgery. Gunnels are those highly visible strips around the outside of the boat, adding both structure and beauty. Screw something up and there is no going back. There’s not a lot of opportunity to fix them later.
With some trial and error, we decided to move the front of the seat to the back attachment points already existing in the gunnel (about 61 inches from the tip of the bow). It also meant adding a gunnel reinforcement to hold up the back of the seat.
You’ll notice the original gunnel reinforcement is still in place. I should have removed the reinforcement in front of the seat, but didn’t. Why? Because when I make changes of any kind: code, writing, home maintenance, I try to make changes in a way that allows me to back out if something is wrong. Leaving the reinforcement untouched meant I could return the seat to its original position. At worse case, I’m just back to where I started.
I explained to Janell this was a satisfactory solution, but she did not agree. The ends of the existing reinforcements are exactly where her knees lean against the gunnel. Uncomfortable and no bueno!
The correct solution would be to trim those supports so the front supports look like the back supports. Which means saws, chisels, or lots of 60-grit sandpaper. None of those actions can be reversed. So here I am, out of my comfort zone.
Commitment
Many of my former peers in the software industry dreamed of starting their own company and making big money. Which meant throwing away your current high-paying job (my comfort zone) and stepping off into a risky entrepreneurial abyss. A few peers made it big. The rest hit the ground (hard). Crashing meant losing all the assets poured into the effort, including personal time and money (lots of personal money). Entrepreneurs must be willing to throw everything into an effort they can’t gracefully back out of. Do or do not. There is no try.1
In this way, our boat is entrepreneurial. True, the cost of failure would be low; we would end up with no boat, which is where we started. But we jumped in and overcame our self-doubt.
So to fix this, I needed more of the same can-do approach. But it is unnerving to take a saw to the gunnel. Look at all the sawdust. Look at the ugly groove. Once you start with the saw, you can’t stop. There is no way to gracefully back out.
Maximizers and Satisficers
Psychologists talk about maximisers and satisficers. Maximisers are people who strive to make a choice that will give them the maximum benefit. Satisficers narrow their decision to modest criteria. (“Satisficer” is a combination of ‘satisfying’ and ‘sufficing’). Janell is a maximiser, I’m a satisficer. When we go to restaurants, I see a menu full of equally satisfying options. Janell is looking for the best possible meal. We forget these two approaches can be complimentary .
When faced with a problem, Janell likes to explore all possible solutions, looking for the best choice. In contrast, I take the quickest path to an acceptable solution. For example, we recently installed a ceiling fan in our bedroom. I had it wired and operable, but after watching it for a day, she wanted to try a different model. I pushed back; After all, the fan moved air around, what more could be expected?
But I’ve learned to embrace the process; she was right, the new one provided better lighting, more fan speeds and better esthetics. Without my belief in multiple correct solutions, we wouldn’t have a fan. Without Janell’s belief in the best solution, we wouldn’t have the optimal fan.
I could have pushed back and left the front gunnel support intact. But here I am, sawing away, hoping to keep the line straight and assuring myself the sanding and varnishing will hide the gouges I am making in the most beautiful part of the boat. Without my belief in multiple correct solutions, the seat wouldn’t have moved. Without Janell’s belief in the best solution, we would have an uncomfortable boat.
I use wood epoxy to fill the old holes, then I varnish, and when I’m done, it doesn’t look bad. If you know what to look for, you’ll see evidence of my trespass. But the boat still floats and the leg space is ample and comfortable
This canoe is a beautiful piece of furniture. But furniture has to serve a purpose or it’s just a pretty doorstop. Our canoe is one of the most functional and beautiful boats I have ever paddled. I take pride in this repair because the beauty is still intact and the functionality is enhanced.
But oh man, the journey can be scary.
- Yoda, Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back ↩︎