I'm in a boat Archives - Page 2 of 2

Tiny Bubbles

All endeavors have a beauty…

…and…

…a disappointment

Our canoe is no different.

We admire the beauty of the canoe every morning. The cedar strips form lines from the bow to the stern, pulling the eye along the shape of the boat. Isn’t admiring the beauty of a boat the best part of a boat? Why would anyone create a canoe that didn’t have beauty?

This morning, we dread looking inside the canoe. Last night was an epoxy disaster, and we did our best to remove the bubbles and air pockets before leaving for the evening. Our concern is justified–there are myriad tiny bubbles rising from the epoxy and some of them have collected as air pockets under the fiberglass. If we can fix it, we will have to do considerable sanding and discover why the air pockets formed so we don’t repeat our faulty technique.

A Sense of Place

Crappy writing tells you what is happening. Good writing provides you with mental images. Great writing provides you with a sense of being in a place. So…what’s it like to be in this boat shop in Port Townsend?

We are staying at an AirBnB just outside of Port Townsend. It’s comfortable, has showers, and provides a magnificent view of the Olympic mountains. Every morning, we cook a simple breakfast, make coffee, and hop in the car. Matthew wanted to take his rental vehicle, but we insisted he would miss singing camp songs in the car, so he rides with us.

Pi Day

Those of us building boats agree March 14th is Pi day. 3/14 (March 14) is the first three digits of pi (3.14). A bar here in Port Townsend will give you a 15% discount if you can recite pi to fifteen digits (3.141592653589793). This seems like a lot to memorize, but it’s only three zip code numbers — or one and one-half phone numbers. If you had the motivation to memorize it, you could do it.

There are various ways to celebrate. The Raspberry Pi Foundation often makes major product announcements. Our tradition is to eat pie. Have a slice.

Flipping the Boat

Today is the birthday of this boat.

Up until now, it has only been a fetus. It relied on the stations of the strong back to give it shape and protect it from forces that might wish it ill.

Matthew built the form (aka: “strong back”) to withstand minor explosions. Its spine is three two-by-fours, nailed together and supported by two sturdy legs. Along the spine are stations; thick sheets of plywood like ribs on a whale. The canoe rests tenuously upon this sturdy frame. Without the strong back, the canoe is only a bundle of sticks.

Today…we removed the strong back.

Wedding Dress for a Canoe

Today is Tuesday, March 12th, 2024. The big event today is Joel (the shop manager) making lunch for everyone: Bratwurst and beef brisket with cabbage and potatoes. That…and we are putting on the first coat of fiberglass.

We get up a little slower than yesterday but still make it into the shop at a reasonable hour. The canoe is still beautiful, more so because of the sealer coat of epoxy we put on yesterday. Our first task is to lightly (lightly!) sand the bumps and drips. The drips have to go, but if you are too energetic, the epoxy will warm up and you’ll be sanding bubblegum. Instead, we need to sand for a bit, then walk away like we don’t care about the drip anymore, and then later, when the epoxy has cooled off, we sneak up on it and sand it some more. Rich stops dilly-dallying around and gets out a sharp knife to shave off the drips.

Sand. Vacuum. Resin.

We arrived at the Northwest Maritime Center Boatshop at a bit past 8:30 am. The canoe was waiting for us. Every time I see it, I have to take a minute to admire the texture, lines, and shape of this beautiful boat. I remind it how pretty it is; talking to inanimate objects is a trait I inherited from my mother.

Did You Think This Through?

For the next week, we will camp out in the boat shop at the Northwest Maritime Center in Port Townsend, Washington, breathing epoxy fumes and embedding fiberglass in our fingers. This is the almost-final step towards finishing the wood-strip canoe started ten years ago by our friend, Matthew Mattson.

Matthew started this project as a senior in high school. He built a form, then applied strips of cedar to the form, then went to college, then moved to New York to be an architect. His parents consented to store the unfinished boat in the family garage, not realizing this would be a long-term commitment and would occupy the space otherwise given over to a ping-pong table.