Articles - Page 10 of 51 - Small Boats Magazine

Memorable

This past Father’s Day, my son Nate suggested we sail across Puget Sound to the village of Indianola for our annual outing. We had sailed there on a summer day 19 years ago when he was 14, and apparently he remembered that outing as fondly as I did. His sister Alison, then 11, was also with us, along with her friend Sarah. The two of them spent much of the time lying bellies down on the foredeck singing Girl Scout camp songs. There was a reaching breeze out of the north, enough to move my Caledonia yawl ALISON at a good clip while only rippling the Puget Sound waters. We made the 7-mile crossing under a broad clear sky in good time and made our landfall on Indianola’s broad sand flats, which stretched 250 yards out from the silvered driftwood above the high tide line to the retreat of the water at a minus tide. We left the boat at the water’s edge with the anchor set as far as the rode would reach shoreward. As we walked ashore, Ali and Sarah tiptoed through shallow tidepools, sending 1′-long flounders fluttering away leaving gray contrail clouds of sand behind them. Indianola’s general store was just above the beach. We went straight to the freezer for ice cream. We bought ice-cream sandwiches and Drumsticks, those vanilla-ice-cream sugar cones, topped with chocolate and crushed peanuts.

The forecast for this year’s Father’s Day outing with Nate was for weather less pleasant than we’d had for that sail to Indianola in 2004. A south wind to 20 knots and waves to 2′ with thundershowers predicted for the afternoon made it unwise for us to cross the Sound. We hadn’t been to the Duwamish River in at least a decade, and, while it offered well protected waters on the South end of downtown Seattle, it flowed through the city’s industrial district and was flanked for miles by docks and windowless warehouses. We decided to give the river a try and pulled ALISON out of the back yard and headed to the launch ramp on Alki Point, a little over a mile to the northwest of the mouth of the Duwamish.

We set out under a cloudy sky, but patches of blue had opened to the south and the air was warm. We motored from the ramp across Elliott Bay and into the mouth of the Duwamish River. We passed one of the three Port of Seattle container terminals where four spidery cranes were perched side by side on a ¼-mile long dock. Beyond them were two highway bridges and an open bascule railroad bridge.

South of the bridges we approached the intertidal sandspit on the downstream end of Kellogg Island. Nate scrambled over the cabin top and watched the shoaling water from the foredeck and at his command, I cut the motor. ALISON quietly hissed to a stop on the sand. We ate lunch—deli sandwiches—standing in shin-deep water alongside the boat, then walked about 100 yards toward the island and its brush-crowned high ground. On a downhill slope in the middle of the spit I slipped where the sand turned to mud but managed to stay on my feet. Rather than struggle with the mud there, we turned around and walked back to the boat.

I rowed ALISON along the river bend that arcs around Kellogg Island’s west side. The bend is the only one remaining after 15 others were bypassed in 1916 by a 3-1/2-mile dredged channel known now as the Duwamish Waterway. In 2017, I’d stopped along the west bank to test the pattens I’d made and written about for the October issue.

We landed and Nate and I strapped pattens on to walk along the tide-exposed mudflats. The mud wasn’t deep, but it was very sticky. Like kids in new rubber boots looking for puddles we clomped around to walk on the deepest, stickiest mud we could find.

This ½-mile-long remnant of the river’s original course remains undeveloped. It had been home to the Duwamish First Nations people for thousands of years, but the only signs of habitation Nate and I saw were red bricks strewn everywhere we walked.

Before we arrived and left our H-shaped patten prints in the mud, the only tracks were those left by great blue herons. We returned to ALISON, and, still wearing the pattens, used the oars to paddle across the river back to Kellogg Island. A century ago, it was known as Muddy Island, and while the low tide had left the island surrounded by an undulating skirt of raw-umber mud, it wasn’t deep but it was slippery. We kept the pattens on for the grip the cleats on their bottoms provided and walked as far as we could around the south end of the island before backtracking to the boat.

When we rowed out from Kellogg Island we saw that there was a northerly, upriver breeze on the Duwamish Waterway. We stowed the oars and raised the squaresail. This dredged channel has provided a place for ships and industry but the new enterprises that inhabited the banks created for them so abused the river that it became one of the most polluted rivers in the country and was declared a Superfund Site by the EPA in 2001; efforts to restore the river’s health are ongoing.

When the breeze began to fail us and even backed the squaresail a few times, I suggested we put the outboard, here alongside Nate, back in the well and motor upriver. He insisted we do without the noise and continue under sail, no matter how light the wind. Even in the lulls, we made progress upriver with the flood tide carrying us at almost 2 knots. We eventually had to drop the sail and the mast to pass under two roadway bridges 6 miles from the river mouth. We carried on another mile, came to a bend in the river that was shallow and rocky, and turned around.

On the homebound stretch, against the wind and tide, the storm clouds we’d seen to the north had drifted over us bringing rain and a sudden drop in temperature. We bundled up in our raingear. Nate climbed over the cabin and tidied up the foredeck in anticipation of a rough crossing of Elliott Bay. When he returned to the cockpit, he stood in front of me looking over the bow. I watched rainwater dripping from his jacket onto the backs of his pantlegs and into the open tops of his boots. I was faring a bit better in my cagoule, but a seam I hadn’t sealed was seeping water on my shoulders.

We were both getting cold as we approached the last mile of the river. ALISON can be operated from inside the cabin (visible on the port side of the cabin wall are the lines for a rudder yoke and the kill switch). I suggested we retreat to it, but Nate preferred the rain to the noise in the cabin. We toughed it out for the remaining 2-1/2 miles to the launch site.

Nate and I were both thoroughly wet and chilled by the time we reached the ramp, but within minutes the sky to the west cleared and the rain stopped where we were. (It continued to fall on Seattle’s city center.) By the time ALISON was out of the water, we were both warmed up.

Our afternoon on the Duwamish was not at all like the crossing to Indianola 19 years earlier. Instead of a clear sky and warm sunlight we had ashy clouds and chilling rain. Instead of the broad unfettered expanse of Puget Sound, we had a polluted canal hemmed in by ships and cargo terminals. Instead of running barefoot on sand flats and through tide pools, we plodded in boots on slimy toxic mud. I expect that 19 years from now I will remember this time with Nate as fondly as I do our summer sail to Indianola. Sometimes what matters most is not where you are but who you’re with.

Plastimo Fog Horns

The presence of ships rarely goes unnoticed. Aside from their sheer size, they show up on radar and AIS (Automatic Identification System) and are in regular contact with each other by radio. Those of us in small boats often go unseen and literally under the radar. While there are advantages to being so unobtrusive, there are times when it is necessary to make our presence known, if only to convey a very simple message: I’m here. Having a good whistle or horn aboard makes that possible when there is an inattentive boater or fog about.

Among the loudest I’ve used are two foghorns made by Plastimo: the Trump and the Mini-Trump. I don’t know exactly when the horns were first released, but they were listed in Plastimo’s 2014 catalog, a few years before the name became intertwined with American politics. My guess is that the name was a play on the word “trumpet.”

Photographs by the author

The larger horn comes with a wrist lanyard, a case, and two replacement membranes (not shown).

The horns are of the diaphragm type and produce sound by vibrating a membrane that intermittently interrupts the flow of air passing through the horn. I’ve made a few of this type with plastic plumbing parts and in several different pitches. I thought they were loud, but the Plastimo horns are at another level: painfully loud. It takes very little air pressure to make them sound, and an easy puff produces almost full volume.

To get a measure of the volume, I bought a sound-level meter and took readings with the meter set 24″ from the horns. My home-made horns reached 90 decibels (dB), and my classic Perko fog horn hit 106 dB. The Plastimo horns are claimed to exceed 100 dB, though I wasn’t able to find at what distance that reading was taken. At 24″, the large one registered 119 dB on the meter, and the small one, with its tube extended, registered 108 dB. I used a digital tuner to identify the pitches: E-flat for the large and E for the small.

Cupping hands around the ends of either horn protects the ears when hearing protectors aren’t used.

The sound from the Plastimo horns is projected from the ends, which puts it closer to the ears than does a forward-facing horn. To measure that effect on the user, I took readings at 6″. The large horn hit 124 dB and the small hit 121 dB. Many websites with information about sound levels set the threshold for pain and damage to hearing at 120 dB.

I did all my testing with ear-muff hearing protectors, but they don’t seem like a practical addition to my boat’s safety gear. I found I could hold either Plastimo horn in one hand with a finger in one ear and plug the other ear with the free hand. That made a significant difference, and I could use the horns comfortably. It was also effective to cup a hand around each end of the horn to direct the sound forward and away from my ears. That brought the sound down to a level below the pain threshold and had the added benefit of projecting more of the sound forward. At 24″, the large horn hit 124 dB and the small hit 121 dB, the same levels I’d measured at 6″.

The smaller horn has an extension tube, here retracted. The black cap protects the plastic membrane and stretches it tight when installed in the horn.

The horns have no parts that will suffer from exposure to salt water. If the membrane fails, it can be replaced in seconds with a piece of plastic film (grocery-store produce bags and zip-close bags also work well). When dropped overboard, the yellow plastic horns float, are easy to spot, and will quickly drain of water when recovered, ready for use. The smaller of the two horns, with its extension tube retracted, fits easily in a coat or PFD pocket. With either Plastimo foghorn you can effectively make yourself heard and your presence known.

Christopher Cunningham is the editor of Small Boats

The Trump and the Mini-Trump are manufactured by Plastimo in France and distributed in the U.S. by Bainbridge International. I bought mine from Seattle’s Fisheries Supply for $48.94 for the large, $29.66 for the small. They are available from many other marine hardware outlets.

Is there a product that might be useful for boatbuilding, cruising, or shore-side camping that you’d like us to review? Please email your suggestions.

Pen-Hir

Kathy Mansfield

François Vivier designed the handsome pocket cruiser Pen-Hir for his own use. He cruises the boat for up to two weeks at a time, often singlehanded, along the Brittany coast.

Pen-Hir is a very pretty little 24 7 pocket cruiser designed by naval architect Vivier Vivier. Some of my favorite moments at the big French traditional boat festivals have been watching her sail purposefully through strong tides and sometimes strong winds in the company of schooners, pilot cutters, and fishing boats. There’s always a large sail-and-oar contingent too, numbered in the hundreds, and there we are among friends, because Vivier has designed a large proportion of them, as well as quite a few of the larger boats. There are sleek double-enders, plumb bows and transoms, raid boats like his sprightly Stir Ven design, and a proliferation of rigs from gaff and lug to gunter and marconi.

Vivier spent four years considering the design for a small, fast, good-looking cabin sailboat for himself that he could cruise for two weeks in the summer along the coast of Brittany, often singlehanded or in shallow waters. He wanted to keep it simple, without the need or expense of winches and windlasses, little to go wrong. His inspirations were the small boats of Alden and Crowninshield, the purity of Herreshoff, but updated for modern use with more beam and a larger cabin. He also added to the mix the traditional look of workboats from western Brittany that were sailing at the same time in the early 20th century, with a plumb stem and short counter, but adding the lower freeboard and elegant sheer of classic yachts.

If the boat was to be trailered to different cruising areas as well as sailed locally, Vivier wanted to keep that process simple as well. A gaff rig, when peaked high enough, can point to windward like a marconi sail, but has the added advantage that the mast is in two parts so the spars can be designed the right length to fit inside the boat for trailing. The mast can also can be raised without assistance with a counterweight and tabernacle, with dedicated pole and purchase. This was his rig of choice, though he has designed a marconi option as well.

Vivier came to the project with an enormous amount of experience and a wish to try out new ideas with his own boat. A naval architect for many years designing large ships, later working as director of the French Shipbuilding Research Institute and co-founder of the French traditional boat magazine Le Chasse Marée, he has designed an impressive range of boats. He’d already designed a 27 10 (8.5m) cruising boat, the Toulinguet, and a smaller weekend centerboard cruiser, the Méaban. But with the aim of simplicity, he considered a shallow, long keel and rudder, instead of a steel centerboard and hydraulic lifting gear. Weight could then be better distributed, but would the extra wetted surface slow down the boat? Here Vivier comes into his own, for careful research and analysis that might be shared with the boatbuilding community is something that comes naturally to him. Drag calculations showed that it is the number of appendages that is the critical factor rather than the wetted surface area. A shortish classic keel and integral rudder with sufficient sail area can give better lateral resistance at slow speeds than a centerboard or fin keel plus one or two rudders.

For anchoring in shallow or drying areas, Vivier then added detachable legs that would store under the cockpit side decking, to be mounted on the hull sides to keep the boat balanced on the ground. “For my father, the length of the cockpit is now determined by the boat’s draft so the legs will fit,” his son, Nicholas, said. A 13 sculling oar also fits neatly, partly under the cockpit. It must be one of the pleasures of designing a boat.

Kathy Mansfield

In the interest of conservation, Vivier used birch plywood from Finland for the prototype Pen-Hir’s hull. He also conducted a longevity study on this wood and his method of using it, with promising results.

For his own boat, but not necessarily in future builds, Vivier looked at environmental considerations. Instead of using marine plywood manufactured from tropical hardwoods, he found a sustainable birch plywood made in Finland, and as a side project managed to get funding to study the durability of different types of marine plywood. Plywood samples without any protective coatings were half plunged into seawater for two years. All were damaged by the end of that time, showing that protection is essential, though mahogany survived best. The tests show too that current durability classes are not relevant to boatbuilding. Mechanical tests including density pointed to birch ply as being preferable. Despite a high density, birch was used in early airplanes. There has been no problem in the five years since the boat was built, and two others using birch plywood have been built since. Okoume ply­wood would need an increase in thickness, particularly in the keel area.

Pen-Hir, named after an attractive peninsula near Camaret in Brittany, was built by Nicolas at Icarai Boats near Cherbourg. Once the plywood pieces are computer-cut to shape, the boat can be ready for planking and much of the accommodation built within two weeks at the yard with two or three people working. The bottom planking is a single sheet of plywood and the sides are planked vertically, a method that Vivier has used extensively and thinks can be more accurate than using long horizontal planks. It also makes a strong, nicely rounded hull, avoiding the hard chines that often identify a plywood boat. The bulkheads and keel are made of strong, criss-crossed layers of birch plywood, the latter with 1,323 lbs (600 kg) of lead at the bottom. The bilge area and side planking are composed of two layers of 6mm ply, and the single bottom section is 12mm. The entire hull is epoxy-sheathed, and any exposed plywood edges are protected by a hardwood batten, epoxy glued and nailed in position. The curved coach roof top is laminated over a mold and glued to the oak sides. Sustainable woods are used throughout the boat: oak for floor timbers and coach roof coamings, northern pine for accommodation below, Douglas-fir for beam clamps and spars. The mast is hollow and mounted on deck, saving room down below. The bottom is coated with a long-term antifouling mix of copper and epoxy.

Kathy Mansfield

Pen-Hir sleeps two in a forepeak double. A curtain separates the sleeping space from the saloon and galley, which are airy and welllighted.

My first view of Pen-Hir on the water was of a classically low, light aqua hull and nicely proportioned oaksided coach roof with white-painted decks, her sheer echoed in a solid oak rubrail. Her plumb bow under a short bowsprit is curved at the forefoot; she has a very ample cockpit with a short transom.

The boat coasted along in very little wind, her high-peaked gaff rig, almost gunter, set off by classic stitched sails and Douglas-fir spars. A short transom holds a mainsheet horse, keeping the cockpit free, and a well holds a Torqeedo electric engine, equivalent to about 6 hp, which can be tilted out of the water, giving a range of about 20 miles at 4 knots on a quiet sea. Oars plus a sculling notch at the stern gave extra options for harbor work. The tiller is convenient for the helmsman in any position and easily lifted out of the way. The side decks were clear, not a winch to be seen, with the mainsheet on a block and tackle and secured with a cam cleat. The jib, about 108 sq ft, is small enough to sheet in to cam cleats as well, as are the halyards. I liked the small anchor well and cover, everything neatly to hand, and the stainless-steel pulpit and guardrails were unobtrusive. The oak grabrails on the coach roof and the bronze cleats give a traditional touch.

The saloon feels spacious and bright with no centerboard trunk or mast to get in the way, with white bulkheads, oval portholes, and shelves above the two full-length berths, plus easily accessible and ample stowage and plenty of wood trim. There is a 60-liter water tank under the starboard berth, a small sink and galley stowage at the forward end, and a sliding chart table at the aft end near the cockpit hatch. At the forward end of the port berth there is a combined stove and heater. A table slides out from under the cockpit, and it can be positioned below or in the cockpit. A curved opening to the forepeak with a full double bed and more stowage plus batteries underneath is lightened by a hatch above. A curtain separates this area from the saloon, and a chemical toilet means no plumbing or through-hull fittings.

Kathy Mansfield

Pen-Hir has proven herself in winds over 22 knots, and she also ghosts well in light air—often passing much larger boats.

I’ve sailed now in a wide range of wind strengths in Pen-Hir, notching up a Force 6 last May in the Gulf of Morbihan when we sailed outside the protective gulf, Vivier sailing singlehanded so I could take photographs of the start of a parade of sail. The commentators later mentioned our presence there—no other light plywood craft under 30 were to be seen, nor much else besides traditionally built workboats. With a couple of reefs, a sense of adventure, and a fine skipper we were in good control. At the other extreme, in light winds, and in moderate winds as well for that matter, we have slipped past boats much longer than us with great ease, our keel keeping us from slipping sideways as we work upwind. She tacks firmly and easily despite the keel, and does not feel tender. We have not been in waters shallow enough to have the keel impede our progress, with the exception of one lunch spent at a slight angle while the tide came in. The hundreds of festival boats that we have encountered at times make for a short, steep chop that Pen-Hir hardly notices, and the thought of cruising away toward the nearby beaches, the islands farther away, the coastal towns, was a very enticing thought indeed. I can envisage her far from the Brittany shores, exploring Penobscot Bay in Maine, and I think Alden and Crowninshield would have nodded approvingly.

Plans for the Pen-Hir are available from François Vivier, Naval Architect.


Kathy Mansfield

In Pen-Hir, Vivier was inspired by the good sailing qualities of the knockabout sloops designed by
B.B. Crowninshield in the early 20th century, as well as by the pure simplicity of Herreshoff boats. But
he also sought a larger cabin and a wider hull than those boats carry. The plumb stem and short counter
are typical of Vivier’s home waters.

Kathy Mansfield

Pen-Hir Particulars
LOA 26′ 1″
LWL 23′ 8″
Beam 9′ 2″
Draft 3′ 10″
Sail area 364 sq ft

JADE

HERBERT KRUMM-GARTNER

To develop his trailerable daysailer, Herbert Krumm-Gartner started by carving a half model, inspired by the boatbuilding methods and design aesthetics of Nathanael Greene Herreshoff.

JADE took shape the old-fashioned way: a spokeshave and a piece of golden New Zealand kauri timber. Boat designer and builder Herbert Krumm-Gartner is German by birth and has lived in New Zealand for 26 years, but as the half model gradually emerged from the kauri, it reflected the lines of a classic American daysailer.

A year later, in September 2012, the full-sized, 23′ version was afloat—the first boat of Krumm-Gartner’s Gem-class design with a piece of New Zealand jade or greenstone, pounamu in Maori, on her tiller. Krumm-Gartner named the class Gem because his wife, Romy Gartner, has a past life as a jeweler and because, he says, all classic boats are like gems.

She sparkles with beauty from her spoon bow in a gentle sweep through her low profile to the counter stern that finishes in a gleaming mahogany transom, topped by the glossy Douglas-fir spars of her gaff rig. From the beginning, Krumm-Gartner says, “It was the aesthetics that drove the design.”

Like many before him, Krumm-Gartner is inspired by Nat Herreshoff’s designs—a connection that began in the 1980s when Krumm-Gartner was an apprentice boatbuilder in southern Germany. He was frustrated at the lack of interest in building wooden boats. For his apprenticeship project, he wanted to build a round-bilged clinker boat (also known as lapstrake), but his boss insisted he build a boat with a flat bottom. “But I had to build it his way, the right way up,” Krumm-Gartner says. “I now mostly build upside-down, but you couldn’t argue with your boss.”

He found salvation in a local bookshop, which stocked books on boatbuilding—nearly all of them in English. Today, Krumm-Gartner’s German accent has disappeared, but in the 1980s his English was schoolboy standard. He bought Building the Herreshoff Dinghy, published by Mystic Seaport, and translated key phrases into German so he could understand the building process. He still has the book, including his penciled notes in German. In the same shop he saw his first WoodenBoat magazine. “I’ve been a subscriber ever since,” he says.

The more Krumm-Gartner talked about wooden boats, the more he heard about New Zealand. He knew a tradesman in Germany who knew someone in New Zealand who knew boatbuilder John Gladden. Many international phone calls later, Krumm-Gartner moved to New Zealand with Romy to work for Gladden. “He was great,” Krumm-Gartner says. “He took a lot of time to explain something and drew diagrams of what he wanted. I did some quite complex stuff, like building a gamefish launch. It was like a second apprenticeship.”

Krumm-Gartner later set up Classic Boats Ltd. He has built new boats and has restored many classic yachts, but he held a dream to build a boat to his own design.

In 1999 he designed a Herreshoff-inspired 16-footer, but he and Romy felt it would be too small. “I didn’t want to get wet,” Romy says. Instead, they bought a small classic yacht, which they kept on a mooring, but were disappointed by her obvious need of care when they returned from a three-month trip to Germany.

“It made me realize I wanted a trailer boat at home to minimize pre-Christmas maintenance,” Krumm-Gartner says. “In the United States, daysailers are making a comeback, and they are in New Zealand too. They have lots of varnished wood, but you don’t have to be afraid of it because you can protect it at home under cover.”

“Looking for a challenge,” he revisited the 16-footer, stretched it to 23′, and added more freeboard. “I designed it the Herreshoff way,” Krumm-Gartner says. “I did a half model and shaped it until I liked what I saw.” His book about the Herreshoff dinghy was a close companion.

HERBERT KRUMM-GARTNER

Like Herreshoff yachts, JADE, the first of the Gem class boats, was built upside-down with one mold per laminated frame. For watertight integrity and structural strength, the laid deck’s sprung planks were installed over a plywood substrate.

The aesthetics brought the challenge. “It’s difficult to build a counter stern and a curved transom. It was also very difficult to plank, and I didn’t know how difficult when I designed it. The stern has a lot of tumblehome and the bow has a lot of flare, so they are very complex curves and a plank needs some convincing to take that shape.”

The construction wood was mostly kahikatea, known as New Zealand white pine, which had been salvaged from submerged logs. The key in bending the planking was to use narrow widths. “I put a straight edge on one side of the plank and then I put a fair curve into the other one, so that amidships the planks could be 70 to 90 mm [23⁄4″ to 31⁄2″] wide, tapering out to about 40 mm [about 11⁄2″] at the ends; then I stuck them in the steambox. We wrapped them around and bent them around the building mold.

“Usually when you steam planks you’re bending them one way, but we bent these around the boat and edge-set them up or down, so we had to keep them narrow. This method wastes less timber than if cutting carvel planks the conventional way from wide boards,” he says.

Krumm-Gartner’s favorite tools were planking clamps that he had first seen in WoodenBoat magazine and ordered from the United States. “They attach to the rib,” he says. “You can then wind down the plank so you get this super-tight fit. Normally you’d have to do with a normal clamp and wedges. Every rib was laminated over a frame so the building jig could be re-used, as Herreshoff used to do.”

The edge-glued planks are covered in one layer of 6-oz fiberglass cloth set in epoxy. It’s a good method for a trailering boat that will be out of the water most of the time.

Krumm-Gartner says JADE is helping to preserve traditional boatbuilding methods. “Building is the only way you can acquire a skill properly,” he says. “If you repair a boat and you replace a plank, you’re not a proficient planker. But if you build 40 planks, select the planks, steam them, you really learn the process. The first plank took me most of the day to get it on. Later, we did a pair a day.”

Krumm-Gartner and Romy built JADE together; for Romy it was an unofficial apprenticeship, albeit without plans. “Herbert would say, ‘We’re doing this.’ And I’d say, ‘Show me,’” Romy says. “It was all in his head, so I couldn’t picture it.”

“Plans can be limiting,” her husband says.

They recorded every part of the construction, from lofting through to final fittings, in a diary, including photographs, with suggestions for improvements and a record of the hours for each job.

Krumm-Gartner selected 23′ as the length so the boat would be easy to trailer, store, sail, and maintain yet still achieve a reasonable turn of speed. The cabin sleeps two comfortably and the cockpit seats four people. Facilities include a chemical toilet under the cabin sole, an icebox under the port cockpit seat, and a stove to starboard. There are watertight bulkheads in the bow and lazarette. Four sockets around the cockpit accept stanchions to support a sun tent.

When it came to motive power, Krumm-Gartner didn’t want an outboard on a bracket. “They are ugly, unwieldy to use, and ineffective in a choppy sea,” he says. But he didn’t want an inboard engine either: “It would have dominated the cockpit, cost more, and weighed more.”

After playing around with an outboard-shaped piece of plywood in the workshop, he permanently installed an 8-hp Yamaha outboard in a well in the aft cockpit. It pushes the boat at 6 knots and is angled at 12 degrees so that the propeller wash streams over the rudder. A pipe in the outboard’s idling outlet takes exhaust fumes away from the outboard well. Two fairing pieces around the outboard leg also help to keep the fumes out of the cockpit.

HERBERT KRUMM-GARTNER

JADE’s commodious cockpit, with macrocarpa coamings at a comfortable height for seating, has room for four and an outboard set in a well.

JADE may have been complicated to build, but as a baby classic she is easy to sail. One person hoists gaff mainsail by pulling simultaneously on the peak and throat halyards, which are led to the starboard side of the forward end of the cockpit. The 5-square-meter [54 sq ft] jib hoists on a halyard to port. The jib’s boom makes it self-tacking, and to save crew having to lean out into the spray to trim, the jibsheets lead inside the cockpit via bronze sheave boxes let into the macrocarpa coamings.

The mainsail hoists on mast hoops made of stainless steel sheathed in leather, and thanks to an endless mainsheet it can be trimmed from either side of the cockpit. Because the boat has no bowsprit, sail handling is easy, but with no winches for trimming or hoisting sail, the crew needs to practice belaying skills.

Her stiff manner under sail befits her gentle, classic temperament. Krumm-Gartner and Romy enjoyed many sails on JADE before finally dipping the rail under, in a wind of more than 20 knots. The 15-square-meter [161 sq ft] gaff mainsail provides most of the power, unlike a modern marconi rig, for which a large genoa is usually the driving force. When working to weather, Krumm-Gartner reefs the mainsail at 15 to 18 knots. The main and jib are made of cream-colored sailcloth as a nod to the classic sailing of yesteryear.

The helm has a feel of yesteryear too, being placid but firm. It’s easy for one person to manage the tiller and sheets. Going forward on the narrow coach roof without lifelines feels strange to sailors more used to modern designs, but there’s something wonderfully snug about the varnished cockpit surrounded in sweeping coamings. The water is just inches away, and Krumm-Gartner has certainly created the feel of old-style sailing.

HERBERT KRUMM-GARTNER

Showing her early-20thcentury American influence, the gaff-headed sloop has a self-tending jib that makes sail handling simple. Low draft enabled by her centerboard makes her readily trailerable, and with her planking sheathed in fiberglass cloth set in epoxy she can be launched dry without needing time for the planking to swell.

JADE has just under 300 kg (661 lbs) of ballast for her 1.1 tons (2,425 lbs) weight, including 135 kg (298 lbs) of lead either side of the keelson and 30 kg (66 lbs) of lead in the centerboard. The centerboard brings the draft to 5′. By use of the only winch on board, the centerboard swings up into a low-profile trunk in the cockpit for trailering or creeping into shallow water when gunkholing. The centerboard winch is bronze, as are other metal fittings on board JADE, for which Krumm-Gartner made wooden molds, accounting for shrinkage.

It takes one person 30 minutes to rig or derig JADE. The mainmast, being a gaff rig, is only 6m [about 20′] and light enough for one person to manage. To lower the mast for trailering, Krumm-Gartner releases the forestay; the mast stays in its tabernacle and the shrouds stay connected. The lowered mast rests in crutches on the deck. The 4.2m [13’9″] Douglas-fir boom, gaff, and mainsail stow in the saloon. Krumm-Gartner launches JADE using an extension bar on the trailer.

JADE already has a sistership, commissioned as an open daysailer without a cabin and resplendent in varnished mahogany topsides for which Krumm-Gartner meticulously selected every plank. He and Romy built the boat for an American superyacht on which it resides in a special cradle alongside a classic runabout—a stable-mate that Nat Herreshoff would surely appreciate.


HERBERT KRUMM-GARTNER

JADE
Particulars
LOA 23′
Beam 6′ 6″
Draft, centerboard up 2′ 2″ centerboard down 5′
Weight 2,425 lbs

For information about completed boats, contact Herbert Krumm-Gartner, Classic Boats Ltd.

The Mirror

John Summers

With an open-cockpit layout, relatively high boom, and lots of seating, the Mirror is ideal for taking kids out.

If you’ve spent any time at all in sailing clubs in North America or Europe, chances are you’ve seen at least a few of the many dinghies drawn by the English designer and boatbuilder Jack Holt (1912–1995), who drew more than 40 boats during his long career, including the Cadet, the GP 14, the Hornet, an International 10-Square-Meter Canoe, an International 14, and the Rocket, which later merged with another design to become the Merlin Rocket. He was noted for his early adoption of marine plywood with a particular focus on dinghies that could be home-built by amateurs. Two of his more distinctive designs are the Enterprise (1956), with its baby blue sails, and the Mirror (1962), with deep red sailcloth derived from the newspaper’s signature color. Interestingly, the Enterprise (The News Chronicle) and the Mirror (The Daily Mirror) are, along with the DN Iceboat (The Detroit News), three small craft designs sponsored by newspapers that have gone on to great success.

To create the Mirror, Holt refined and improved two prototypes created by British do-it-yourself television personality Barry Bucknell. According to the international class association, more than 70,000 of these small dinghies have been built worldwide, and the Mirror is now an international one-design class overseen by the International Sailing Federation (ISAF). Mirror hull No. 1, EILEEN, was constructed in 1963 and is now in the collection of the National Maritime Museum Cornwall in Falmouth, England. Originally gunter-rigged, the class now also permits a Bermudan mainsail. The Mirror was an early design to employ stitch-and-glue construction. Home-built boats still use this method, but some professionally built hulls are also available in foam-sandwich fiberglass in the United Kingdom. The first generation of spars was all wood, but masts are now commonly aluminum.

John Summers

The interior layout is simple and uncluttered. Auxiliary power can be provided by paddles or oars.

The dinghy measures 10’11” LOA × 4’7″ beam, with a board-down draft of 28″. Sail area is 49 sq ft in the main, 20 sq ft in the jib, and the spinnaker adds 47 sq ft. Complete and ready to sail, the boat weighs approximately 150 lbs, and capacity is 600 lbs. The racing crew is two, but the boat can easily accommodate three adults or an adult and several children for daysailing. Plans for this strict one-design are not commercially available, and Mirrors are sold either as complete kits, hull kits, bare hulls, or sail-away boats. The kits include everything except paint, varnish, and epoxy resin. Within the one-design specifications, the interior layouts have evolved in the years since the boat was first designed, and builders have some options in cockpit layout and the scantlings of individual components such as the yard of the sliding-gunter mainsail.

The conventional stitch-and-glue construction requires only basic hand and power tools. Work begins with clear-coating the hull panels with epoxy, especially where they will form the inside of buoyancy tanks. The builder next joins the fore-and-aft sections of the hull panels with butt straps, and then marks and drills them for wiring together. Small gluing blocks are attached to the bottom panels to aid in positioning and attaching the sides of the buoyancy tanks and the bulkheads later in the construction sequence.

John Summers

When racing, or looking for a little extra speed downwind, the Mirror can fly a spinnaker. Hull No.43756 has seen long service, so her deep red sails have faded a little.

The bottom panels are wired together first, followed by the aft transom, the bow transom, and the side panels. As always with a stitch-and-glue hull, it is crucial to align it with winding sticks and diagonal measurements before finishing the seams to ensure it is not wracked. The bulkheads and side tanks are fitted before the seams are filleted and taped, followed by the centerboard trunk and center thwart. The decks rails, and quarter and bow knees complete the basic hull. The rudder, dagger­board, and spars finish the build and are followed by hardware installation and rigging. The manufacturer of the kits suggests that boats can be constructed by builders with moderate skills and a reasonable assortment of tools in 150–200 hours. The U.K. Mirror Class Association website at www.ukmirrorsailing.com includes links to sites documenting particular Mirror constructions, and a YouTube search will quickly reveal posted videos of various build and restoration projects. The kits come with a comprehensive 50-page building manual.

The boat’s spars all fit inside the hull (at least with the gunter rig), and that, combined with a relatively light hull weight, means that Mirrors can easily be trailered or cartopped. They are readily carried or moved on a dolly for launching and retrieving from a beach or ramp. Rigging is quickly done, and boats can go from trailer to sailing in well under 30 minutes. A kick-up rudder means that it’s easy to sail off a beach.

John Summers

The Mirror is an easy boat to singlehand, and some have made long cruises. Modest sail area and plenty of buoyancy allow Mirrors to go out in winds that would keep other dinghies on shore.

On the day I met with some members of the Ontario Mirror Dinghy Association to go sailing, the winds varied from very light to moderate, with perhaps a maximum of 8–9 knots for a time. Beautiful summer weather, to be sure, but it wasn’t a day to test the seamanship of the skipper or the mettle of the boat. I was assured by some sailors of the boat’s seaworthiness, though, as they shared stories of heading out on blustery days on Lake Huron or Lake Ontario long after other small boats had retired for the day. With 69 sq ft of working canvas, the Mirror is certainly not over­powered, but there are lots of other dinghies out there if you really want to go fast.

Under sail, the helm is light and the boat is well balanced. Like many small dinghies of traditional rig, the Mirror sails best a little eased and no higher than a close reach. The hull has an easy motion, but the pram bow means that she will tend to slap into a chop. We sailed with two average-sized adults for a time, and in the light air the boat balanced best with both of us on either side of ’midships, one to windward and one to leeward. Hiking straps are fitted for heavier weather, but we didn’t need to use them that day. Nothing is too far away in a boat only 11′ long, but those who habitually sail singlehanded might want to bring the control lines back to cleats on the center thwart for easy access. Serious racers will also want to double them up so that they can be reached from either side of the boat.

Basic sail controls include main and jib sheets, vang, and mainsheet outhaul. The wire shrouds are made off to chainplates, but the forestay is secured with a lashing to a pad-eye at the bow. Class rules permit it to be adjusted underway. The built-in buoyancy tanks go up either side and across the bow, offering a choice of seating positions. The gunwales are narrow, so serious racers or those planning on hiking out a lot might want to invest in padded shorts.

John Summers

Mirrors are easily handled on beaching dollies, and can also be cartopped.

Class equipment includes both a whisker pole for booming out the jib clew downwind and a spinnaker, which is set and retrieved from a tapered mesh bag via a center retrieval line. Race upgrades include a multi-part block system for adjusting the forestay and up to an 8:1 purchase on the boom vang. As is often the case in one-design classes, racing competition can be fierce, and as one of the sailors I met when testing the boat said, “If you can make a Mirror go fast, you can make anything go fast.” Especially in the U.K., the boat has often served as a development platform for future Olympians and professional sailors.

John Summers

With its light draft and kick-up rudder, the Mirror is easily launched and retrieved in shallow water.

The Mirror Dinghy is very popular in Europe and in Canada, but not as well known in the United States. This is a pity, because it is a durable and practical boat whose small size and easy handling make it perfect for those with young children and limited storage space at home. As a trailer boat or cartopper, the Mirror can easily be brought on vacation, and can also be rowed or, with minor modifications to the transom, fitted for use with a small outboard. In the right hands, Mirrors can also be capable small boats for cruising, and they have made some long passages under sail. The fact that all this can be had in an easily assembled kit that is available for less than the price of many other less-capable production dinghies is an added bonus. The experience of building and then using a boat together is one that can stay with parents and children for a very long time indeed. The distinctive red sails of the Mirror certainly deserve to be seen more often in North American, and especially in American, waters.


Mirror Dinghy Particulars

LOA:   10′ 11″
Beam: 4′ 7″
Draft:   28″/4″
Sail area:   main and jib 69 sq.ft, spinnaker 47 sq.ft

Mirror dinghies can often be found on the used-boat market in central and eastern Canada, particularly through the website of the Ontario Mirror Dinghy Association.

Mirror dinghy kits are available in North America from Mirror Sailing Development, [email protected].

General information about the class is available from the International Mirror Class Association www.mirrorsailing.org, where you will find links to national associations in Australia, Canada, Ireland, Japan, The Netherlands, South Africa, Sweden, and the United Kingdom.

TIME–TRAVELER

Senate Hills, of Hillsboro, Oregon, has been making things for as long as he can remember. His current project is a framed wooden shed with cedar-shake siding for his six trucks. Before this, he built two other sheds, one of which has a ramp and accommodates the wagon he uses for light hauling. For loading logs, he built a boom derrick operated by a steam donkey.

Senate is 11 years old. His trucks and heavy equipment are all toys, most of which he has made. He started building things in cardboard, but when he was six or seven, he turned his hand to working more substantial materials. He and his dad, Jeff, were fixing a table when Senate spied a piece of plywood about 18″ long by 7″ wide, pointed at one end. He thought, “I could build a boat out of this. I screwed some boards to the sides, added a keel, which increased the draft from about 3⁄4″ to about 4″, attached a rudder, which I’d made out of a small hinge and a wooden board, and screwed a tiller to the top. I kept the boat from leaking by driving hemp twine into the cracks using a flat-head screwdriver and a hammer.”

Melissa Hills

A young Senate tested his first wooden boat, DRIFTWOOD, on the Tualatin River.

The family took the new boat to the beach on the Oregon coast where Senate christened her DRIFTWOOD before launching her. As she bobbed in the shallows of the Pacific Ocean, Senate imagined her as an inboard fishing boat.

That summer Senate built all manner of experimental boats. Almost every week the family went to nearby Tualatin River and almost every week there was a new boat to christen and launch. They were, he says, “weird little things, just experiments really, but they almost all worked.”

Senate Hills

Senate’s interpretation of a harbor tug is MILKMAID, named after “The Milkmaid,“ a song by his favorite band, The Longest Johns, a folk and shanty group from Bristol, England. Senate was inspired when reading On The Hawser: A Tugboat Album by Steven Lang and Peter H. Spectre, and Tugboats Illustrated by Paul Farrell. MILKMAID is 3′ LOA by 8″ beam.

There is no boating in Senate’s background, but when the pandemic hit and the Hills family went into lockdown, Senate’s mom, Melissa, decided to subscribe to a couple of magazines they could all enjoy. One was National Geographic, the other was WoodenBoat. Senate read the latter from cover to cover and was hooked. He continued to create the cardboard and plywood vessels of his imagination but also started building small, simple, model boats from kits. His favorite model boat, he says, is PADDY, a radio-controlled Beaver Tug that he built with Jeff from plans and templates they found on the internet.

“We built her of balsa,” says Senate, “and installed a radio-controlled motor. We sheathed her in cotton fabric soaked in epoxy to make her stronger and watertight. And we painted her to look like a real working tugboat; she even has miniature tires for fenders.”

As the pandemic restrictions slowly eased, Melissa began looking for family outings. First came a tour on ARROW Nº2, a retired and restored Columbia River pilot launch based in Astoria (which Senate got to drive during the family’s visit) and then, in the summer of 2022, Senate, Melissa, and Jeff joined seven other families on the banks of the Willamette River for the annual Family Boat Build put on by the RiversWest Small Craft Center.

Ralph Cohen

With the side panels in place the family worked together to frame the skiff. Jeff held the panel, while Melissa held the forward frame steady for Senate to drill into using the bit and brace.

Over this two-day weekend workshop in Portland, Oregon, the goal was for each family to build a Salt Bay Skiff—complete but unfinished. The Hills family worked as a team, but they agreed that it was Senate’s project. “RiversWest had set up stations with all the parts and the instructions, like a kit,” says Senate. “RiversWest members helped by demonstrating and explaining how to do things if we weren’t sure, but we did all the work ourselves. I was the senior shipwright, my dad was the tool specialist, and my mom made sure we followed all the instructions.”

The Salt Bay Skiff, designed by Chris Franklin, is a simple 12′ stitch-and-glue skiff that can be built from two sheets of plywood. It is an ideal project for beginning boatbuilders. It has a deep skeg, outside chine logs, and can carry a load of up to 300 lbs. While it can be built and rigged for sail, the Hills family chose to build their boat for rowing. Senate had no previous experience with small boats and wanted to take things one step at a time.

Meg McGill

With Jeff looking on, Senate marks the keel for a screw placement. Fixing the keel and chine logs would be the final steps before turning the boat over.

The weekend was hot but despite numerous breaks to cool down and rehydrate, Senate and his parents stayed on schedule. Apart from the heat, Senate says, the hardest part was “attaching the side panels to the stem. At that point there’s nothing holding the plywood panels in place, and they flopped around a lot. But it got easier as we attached the stem, then the forward frame, the midships frame, and the transom. After we attached the bottom sheet and the chine logs, it felt really stable. Then we turned it over and it already looked like a boat!”

Ralph Cohen

“We built that!” The Hills family take their skiff for its first outing. By the end of the Family Boat Build weekend, the boat was structurally complete but there was still a lot of finishing work to do.

By the end of the weekend, they had fitted all the pine thwarts, quarter knees, and breasthook, and the skiff, while not yet painted, could be taken out for a test row on the Willamette River. “It was exciting,” says Senate, “There was the ‘We built that!’ moment. All three of us went out. For the sake of balance, my dad rowed, sitting on the middle thwart. I’m glad we did it, but we quickly knew that having all three of us on board was too much. There was very little freeboard and in the wrong conditions the boat would be easy to swamp.”

Jeff Hills

After filling, sanding, and many coats of paint, TIME–TRAVELER’s topsides shine. Protecting the finish is important to Senate, so he and Jeff added a brass shoe to the skeg and are working on fenders for the topsides when alongside the dock.

After the weekend, Senate went straight to work finishing the skiff at home. “We had to make sure all the screwheads were countersunk, and then we filled and sanded and painted.” Indeed, Melissa and Senate would spend weeks painting. “We sealed everything with primer,” says Melissa, “and then painted many coats of bright red and gloss white. We added a nonskid to the bottom inside. We taped off where we didn’t want texture, painted a coat of white, sprinkled sand over the wet paint and then covered it with a final coat on top of the sand.” Jeff and Senate shoed the skeg with a brass half-oval strip because, Melissa says, “Senate was very concerned after the first few times using the boat that the skeg was getting chewed up.”

Jeff Hills

As well as rowing, Senate uses TIME–TRAVELER to survey the lake. His sounding line is 200′ long with knots every 1′ for the first 10 and then every 10′ up to 200′.

Senate named his skiff TIME–TRAVELER because “when kids go out in boats,” he says, “we lose track of time.” In the year since the Family Boat Build, Senate has taken TIME–TRAVELER out “so many times I’ve lost count. She’s really nice to row and I’ve noticed that even when going into waves she still performs well. If you really lean into the oars, she’ll go fast. Sometimes I give my parents rides, but I’d say the optimum is just me or me and one other person. With a passenger you just have to get the weight distribution right, but otherwise, the only downside is less freeboard.”

Meg McGill

In 2023 Senate volunteered to bring TIME–TRAVELER back to the RiversWest Family Boat Build weekend to help families who might be unfamiliar with the building process and with the terminology.

Senate and TIME–TRAVELER returned to Family Boat Build in 2023, not to build another boat, but to help. Senate had made display cards identifying all the boat parts. He answered many questions—especially at the beginning of the weekend—and helped to fetch tools and parts, held things in place when an extra pair of hands was needed, and offered advice and encouragement to the new builders. He also brought some of his favorite books about boats to share.

Jeff Hills

Senate and TIME–TRAVELER on a visit to Lost Lake in the Mount Hood National Forest, Oregon. The rope fender, made by Jeff, is the first of a set that Senate will be making.

While he’s busy getting on the water as much as possible in TIME–TRAVELER, Senate continues to draw, build, and dream. He hopes, in a few years, to build a sailboat, something he can construct himself and learn to sail in. “I don’t know how to sail,” Senate says. “I’ve never even been on a sailboat. So that would be an ambition.” In the end though, he says, he just wants to go on learning new things. “I think that’s what life is about…learning…you’re never really finished.”

Jenny Bennett is managing editor of Small Boats.

Do you have a boat with an interesting story? Please email us. We’d like to hear about it and share it with other Small Boats readers.

The Point Comfort 18

Robert W. Stephens

Doug Hylan’s Point Comfort 18 offers the seaworthiness and lineage of a Chesapeake deadrise skiff, with the light weight and ease of construction a plywood hull provides.

One of the enduring pleasures of traditional wooden boats is how each boat conveys a sense of place. Every region has its distinct type, evolved to best suit that locale’s topography, weather, water conditions, and the use to which the boat is put. Available building materials can play a large role in shaping the boat, as can the need for economy in construction and in use. The interaction of cultures often has a powerful effect, as indigenous peoples pass on their building techniques to a newly arrived group who come with their own technologies. By studying the shape and construction of a traditional boat, we can peer back through the years for a snapshot of what the world was like for those who developed the type, and by looking at the evolution of the style we can follow broader trends in society. Who knew wooden boats were a solid form of anthropology?

Doug Hylan has given us plenty to study with his Point Comfort 18. At first glance, we see a simple, basic skiff—prettier than most, but a plain open skiff, nonetheless. But as we begin to take stock, we realize she is a modern distillation of the fine qualities of a Chesapeake deadrise skiff, one of the most distinctive of traditional American workboat types. Developed to take advantage of local materials and to handle the particular challenges of the shallow waters of Chesapeake Bay, the deadrise skiff is seen in all sizes up to the sail-­powered skipjack sloops, as large as some 60′ overall and still dragging for oysters today (see WoodenBoat No. 233).

The watermen of the bay have long respected the deadrise skiff for its ability to keep them safe and comfortable on the changeable waters where they ply their trade. Located between the tropics and the north, the Middle Atlantic states are subject to fast swings in weather conditions. Thunderstorms and tornadoes can spring up with little warning, and strong northers can sweep across the bay, bringing Arctic cold and steep seas. Shallow harbors, creeks, and swamps demand boats of equally skinny draft, but the wider expanses can kick up to a short dangerous chop in no time. Simple construction has always been valued to reduce the investment of time and money in building these essential tools of the Chesapeake watermen, but seaworthiness is the first concern.

Robert W. Stephens

Hylan built ample storage into this design yet kept her interior uncluttered. The design has storage compartments in the bow, stern, and inside the ’midship thwart.

The deadrise skiff provides both seaworthiness and value. Its unique construction springs from local materials and local culture. Where a dead-flat bottom was acceptable in the oyster fleet to the north—the large and impressive sharpies of Long Island Sound—even greater economy of construction was permissible, but in the more challenging Chesapeake, a softer ride was required. The bow, instead of being flat like a cross-planked skiff or sharpie, incorporates a distinctive and effective twisting vee, the “deadrise” for which the type is named. In early boats, heavy timbers were used for keel and chine log—most likely hold-overs from the earliest types of bay working craft, dugout log canoes, made from single trees. As boats became bigger, these hulls were made from multiple logs pegged together—techniques adopted from the Native American peoples of the bay’s shores. To form the shapely bow sections, thick timbers were fitted between keel and chine and hewn to shape, as the twist was too severe to allow solid timber to be forced to conform. From amidships to stern, planks were arrayed in herringbone fashion to allow a continuously changing deadrise angle through the midsection and the run.

The great advantages of the traditional deadrise skiff and her larger cousins are seaworthiness, simplicity of construction, and economy of operation. The early boats sailed or rowed easily, and later on, powered boats showed good speed with small engines. But, for today’s recreational watermen, the boats come with some downsides, too: weight and maintenance.

Robert W. Stephens

The Point Comfort is an economical boat to operate. With a 10-hp to 25-hp outboard, she’ll do 12 to
20 knots.

With their thick, hewn bottoms and massive timbers, traditional skiffs would be a challenge to consider trailer­ing. To make things worse, they rely, like most traditionally planked boats, on staying “soaked up” to remain tight. Life on a trailer would be travail for a classic deadrise skiff, and even the smallest would be a big grunt for most family vehicles. Good news for us, though—as with many traditional craft, modern materials and clever designers have permitted us to enjoy the virtues of these remarkable boats without suffering the downsides.

Doug Hylan’s interpretation features the simple and elegant shape in a finer, lighter-weight version. One of the challenges with reinterpreting traditional designs is how to remove the displacement required by heavier construction without changing the handling characteristics of the boat. Hylan has made the whole boat a bit more svelte than might be seen tonging for oysters: with a beam of 5’5″, she’s slim, and the hull depth is less than an old working boat might have—6″ instead of, say, 10″. Total hull weight is a featherweight 350 lbs, making towing behind even a compact car a possibility. But the look and the ride is pure Chesapeake.

Robert W. Stephens

The Point Comfort’s light weight and efficient underbody make her a joy to drive. She rises to a plane smoothly without jerking.

Hylan has shifted from solid lumber to thin, stable plywood for the hull planking­—high-quality, easily attainable, and dimensionally stable on a trailer. He’s been able to employ full sheets of 1⁄2″ ply for the topsides panels and the aft half of the bottom, but in the shapely forefoot the compound curvature (twist) is too great for sheet plywood, no matter how thin. Hylan solves this problem by adopting the traditional method: he employs narrow strips of 1⁄4″ plywood, laid approximately perpendicular to the keel (as would be the solid, hewn planks), and uses two layers, with seams staggered. The “planks” can get progressively wider as you move aft and the twist reduces, until amidships the thinner skins fit to the 1⁄2″ sheet in a ship-lap rabbet. The result is authentically shapely and equally effective as the original in softening a tough chop.

With her light weight and efficient bottom shape, the Point Comfort 18 is a delight to drive. We tested Hylan’s prototype with a new 15-hp four-stroke outboard with tiller steering. Hylan pointed out the only trick about the boat: a great ride is dependent on getting her to trim just right. To reap the benefits of the fine forefoot, she wants to run with the knuckle of the stem just kissing the water. Tuning by adjusting motor tilt and perhaps positioning passengers carefully is well rewarded. Hylan had clearly done his homework: with my 15-year-old son Matthew alone in the boat, the prototype looked perfect. At idle, she slid along effortlessly, cutting cleanly through the water and leaving an invisible wake. As Matt twisted the throttle, she slid ever faster along, rising bodily but never sticking her bow up. The transition to a full plane was seamless. Hylan reports speeds of about 18 knots with this power—and I would not want to go any faster than that in a tiller-steered boat. Her long, straight keel gives her the feeling of being on rails—until you turn, when she feels like the rails continue through the turn. She inspires complete confidence.

Robert W. Stephens

The aft compartment is large enough to hold the fuel tank, a battery, and a bilge pump.

Her arrangement is simplicity itself. Our prototype featured the standard layout: a small foredeck covers a cuddy, providing spray protection and a dry place to store essentials. A platform inside the cuddy at chine level covers a flotation compartment; with additional compartments specified aft, Hylan calculates she’ll comply with USCG flotation and stability requirements. Amidships is a thwart with bulkheads creating more covered storage (a spare fuel tank and extra life jackets resided there during our test) as well as necessary structural elements. Another bulkhead forms a “mechanical area” aft, where the active fuel tank, a battery, and bilge pump were concealed in our boat. A small but ample self-bailing well around the motor adds safety and structural stiffness to the transom. The inside of the hull is smooth and uncluttered by frames or other structure. She is easy to move around aboard, and will be easy to keep clean and well maintained.

An alternative arrangement eliminates the central thwart and bulkheads, trading them for long seat boxes each side of the boat. I think I’d favor that arrangement—more options for seating and tremendous structural stiffness, if less traditional in appearance. Perhaps that’s the reason Hylan reports the thwart version is more popular by far.

Hylan also shows a center-console version that would shift the weight of the skipper out of the stern—but it’s an encumbrance in the middle of the boat, and she seems a bit too small to my mind for standing at a console.

Plans for the Point Comfort 18 are thorough and simple. Eight sheets show lines, construction plans for both versions, a construction jig setup, layouts for the topsides planks, and full-sized frame patterns. A thorough specification spells out materials and offers useful tips and hints. Hylan offers good advice couched in encouraging language. A CD includes an electronic version of the specification as well as photos of the construction and more helpful hints on scarfing and supplies.

For quick and simple building, easy trailering, a ride that’s kind to the kidneys and easy on fuel, and as a way to get your daughter out fishing or your family to that picnic spot on a distant island, it’s hard to find fault with the Point Comfort 18. And with her knockout good looks and traditional heritage, she is a true deadrise skiff for today’s water men and women.


Plans, kits, and new boats are available from Hylan & Brown Boatbuilders in Brooklin, ME. Hylan has a link on his website to many pictures of the prototype boat under construction.

D.N. Hylan and Associates

The underwater sections are nearly vertical at the stem and twist as they move aft to become nearly flat at the transom. This results in a seaworthy but shallow-draft hull that can cut through a chop without pounding.
Particulars:
LOA 18′ 3″
LWL 17′ 4″
Beam 5′ 5″
Draft 6″
Weight without motor 350 lbs
Propulsion 10-hp to 25-hp outboard
Speed 12–20 knots

MUSTELID – Episode 3

In this episode, take a look over our shoulders at the building and launching of MUSTELID. Each boatbuilding project has its own challenges of time, space, contextual, and financial constraints. Paper is cheap, but it can sail us no farther than can our armchair. To get on the water, we must build.

We are “low-road” builders. We meet challenges armed with a small box of mostly hand-tools. We’re handy, but not masters of craft. We’re shoe-string operators and scavengers but debt-free and able to budget. We benefit from modern, gap-filling adhesives but favor lower-tech and common materials. We build simple and robust structures, but let handsome be as handsome does.

Who builds their own vessel must be able to persist. Heads down, put-in-the-time persistence that plods on and around every obstacle. As you’ll see, we are living proof that success is in reach of those who persist.

MUSTELID – Episode 2

At this point, Dave and Anke have an inkling of what they want in their new boat. “Over the years,” says Dave, “we’ve collected quite a number of quirky ideas… the kind that could be great, or might crack the pot. Each one requires a real-life platform for testing and tinkering. So many ideas; so little time.

“These ideas have gone into the mental stew-pot and…well… stewed. Other ideas have mellowed and blended and complemented one another. But years have thundered by, and it’s time to serve up the stew or abstain from it.”

In this episode, Dave and Anke serve up the stew. They present their influences on the design of their new hull. From these influences, they draw ideas and innovations, run them through a filter of perceived wishes, needs, and constraints, then simmer it all down to a design plan. Likewise, they look at the concepts behind their outfit and rigging choices.

CLC Rhode Runner

I wanted to build an outboard boat that would be fun to use in Florida, something eye-catching and different. I had always been drawn to classic runabouts, particularly the Chris-Crafts I see in more northern waters. While they are mostly inboard-powered, outboard motors are easier to maintain in Florida’s exceptionally saline waters. The Chesapeake Light Craft (CLC) Rhode Runner was just what I was hoping to find. It’s a kit-built outboard runabout in the classic Chris-Craft style of the 1950s. With bright-finished mahogany and faux planked foredeck, it exudes elegance and prestige and would stand out among the fiberglass boats on my Sarasota waterways.

Rob Wucki


With its bright-finished mahogany and faux-planked foredeck, the Rhode Runner is a modern take on a vintage Chris-Craft runabout. There is plenty of storage space under the recessed deck between the transom and the rear seat, which is hinged to provide access.

As one of CLC’s ProKits, the Rhode Runner requires prior experience with stitch-and-glue construction. While I had previously built three stitch-and-glue plywood kayaks and one hybrid using cedar strips, as well as CLC’s Jimmy Skiff, I was unsure that I could take on this challenge; but after I spoke with John Harris, the company’s president, his confidence in my abilities inspired me to purchase the ProKit, which I completed six months later.

The builder’s guide for the Rhode Runner consists of 35 pages of computer-rendered drawings, and the construction steps are noted in a bullet list of two to six instructions, presuming the builder understands the standard boatbuilding processes. By comparison, the manual for the Jimmy Skiff II, one of CLC’s standard kits, has 160 pages, with each operation explained by one or more sentences and illustrated with a photo or drawing.

Even though the Rhode Runner guide was greatly abbreviated, it was well suited to my previous experience, and the boatbuilding I’d done previously made it easy to follow the instructions.

Bob Silverman

The Rhode Runner, one of CLC’s ProKits for stitch-and-glue construction, is assembled with neither temporary molds nor strongback. Here the starboard planking panels are being wired to the frames. Note that the frames are notched to ensure the planks’ proper alignment.

The quality of the okoume plywood in the kit was exceptional, and the milling of the CNC-cut pieces very precise. Each of the two interior stringers, two deck panels, two bottom panels, and four strakes is supplied in two pieces with interlocking puzzle joints. The mating pairs are self-aligning when epoxied together. The 3⁄8″ frames are strengthened with plywood doublers, and the aft ends of the bottom panels are sheathed with fiberglass and epoxy.

The Rhode Runner does not require temporary molds or a strongback. Assembly of the hull begins with stitching the 1⁄4″ bottom panels together along the centerline. The installation of the seven 3⁄8″ frames follows, aided by tabs that fit into slots milled in the bottom panels. Copper-wire stitches temporarily hold the pieces together. The 1⁄4″ planks in the four strakes have pre-milled rabbets that align the planks at the laps in CLC’s LapStitch method. The hull bottom gets ’glassed inside and out before the interior and the decks are installed.

The two 1⁄4″ deck pieces are tacked together along the centerline with cyanoacrylate glue, avoiding the holes required for copper-wire stitches. The top surfaces have been milled with grooves to accept contrasting strips of wood to create the appearance of a planked-and-caulked foredeck typical of vintage Chris-Craft runabouts.

Rob Wucki

Stylish and fast when carrying one, two, or three passengers, with just the skipper aboard, the runabout can achieve a top speed of 27 mph with the 25-hp outboard.

The cockpit is all plywood sealed with epoxy. There are two storage compartments along the sides in the stern. They have access openings on their forward ends and are sealed by adhesive rubber-foam gaskets on the underside of a hinged stern bench. Between the compartments, in the center of the stern, there is room for a fuel tank. A seat backrest slides into slots provided by a pair of brackets. At the forward end of the cockpit there are seats for the helmsperson and a passenger, made of 18mm plywood. I bought the kit that included the two forward seats. They add flair to the look of the boat, and have narrow fiddled shelves on the aft side of the backrests that can hold beverages and other small gear.

I installed several optional features, including a period-looking windshield, running lights, stainless-steel rubrails, upgraded seats, and a complete electric package. Hardware for a windshield and for the motor’s throttle and gear shift is available from CLC. I added switches for the navigation lights and bilge pump and installed a Garmin navigation screen with depthfinder.

Rob Wucki

With a 25-hp four-stroke outboard the Rhode Runner gets on plane easily. When at speed, the boat carves around turns rather than skidding through them.

To achieve the appearance of an original Chris-Craft, I went the extra mile and customized the upholstery with a local shop and located period-accurate flags, pennants, deck pads, and an original gas tank.

I purchased a single-axle, aluminum-frame trailer with a 1,600-lb load capacity, which supports the runabout’s weight—including motor and fuel tank—with ease. The boat behaves well on the road. It isn’t a heavy boat, so a pair of ratchet straps can keep it secure and centered on the trailer bunks. At the ramp, the Rhode Runner glides off and back onto the trailer very well.

I equipped the Rhode Runner with a 25-hp Yamaha four-stroke outboard. Its 126 lbs is ideal for fore-and-aft trim, and it is smooth and quiet from idle to top speed. The boat went on plane with ease and remained perfectly trimmed with uninterrupted visibility over the bow. When underway, the Rhode Runner is incredibly stable, and you can feel the smoothness when accelerating. The boat rides exceptionally dry thanks to the slight flare of the foredeck that deflects the spray. I was pleasantly surprised by how well it cut through the waves when crossing the Intracoastal Waterway, even in choppy conditions. When cornering, the boat dug in and stayed the course, rather than swerving out of its direction. I was able to reach speeds of up to 27 mph motoring solo, and the boat slowed down comfortably without having the stern wave pile up against the transom. The ride is incredibly smooth and stable, making it a joy to operate. I’ve only run my Rhode Runner with two people aboard, and it balances very well. I don’t doubt that having two more passengers would be just fine and it would still get on plane.

Rob Wucki

The Rhode Runner provides a smooth, stable, swift ride, and has ample space for four.

I’ve owned many boats, including Boston Whalers, flats boats, fishing cruisers, and pontoons, but if you’re after a fast, fun, and stable runabout, this is it. My Rhode Runner is an undeniable head-turner wherever I take it—both on land and in the water—with people constantly asking me how they can get one. With the quality of the kit and the easy-to-follow plans, I felt confident, after I got started, that I’d be able to complete a very solid, well-thought-out boat. Building this boat was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. If you’d like a runabout with the look of a classic and you’ve already built a kit and are ready to take the next step as a boatbuilder, the Rhode Runner provides good value and will reward your efforts.

Bob Silverman is a business-administration graduate from the University of South Florida and now a licensed real estate-broker specializing in developing mobile-home parks in Florida. Married with two grown children, he has lived in Sarasota for over 66 years. He has lived by the water most of his life and enjoys building wooden boats, kayaks, canoes, and even teardrop campers. He’s also a vintage Ford Mustang enthusiast, with ten restorations and showings under his belt. He’s currently building a hybrid stand-up paddle board with a trolling motor.

Rhode Runner Particulars

[table]

Length/14′9″

Beam/5′5″

Dry Weight (hull only)/350 lbs

Max Power/25 hp (200 lbs max outboard weight)

Min Power/15 hp

Motor Shaft Length/20″

Fuel Capacity/6 gallons (tank not included)

Passenger Capacity/4 adults

Max Payload without motor/1,000 lbs

[/table]

The Rhode Runner is available from Chesapeake Light Craft as a complete kit, with optional seats, for $4,998. Wooden parts only ($3,639), PDF plans with guide ($199), and many other options are available.

Is there a boat you’d like to know more about? Have you built one that you think other Small Boats Magazine readers would enjoy? Please email us!

CLC Tool Box Kit

Many years ago, I took an adult-education entry-to-woodworking course. The once-a-week evening classes were held at a local high school over 10 weeks. I made a mahogany hinged-lid box with dovetailed corners. It took me the whole 30 hours of the course to make. When it was finished, I was ridiculously proud of it until a friend said, “Nice! What else did you make?”

I still have and use my adult-ed box, but I’ve made nothing since. I’m handy with a paint-stripper, power sander, sanding block, paintbrush, varnish brush, even occasionally a palette knife and wood filler, but I am not a maker of wooden objects. So, when another friend recently suggested I make a wooden toolbox, I laughed. Then I found the CLC Tool Box. While Chesapeake Light Craft is well known for its kits for kayaks, canoes, and boats, the company also offers some “small projects,” among them the Tool Box.

The finished box measures approximately 25″ × 10″ and, with its gently arched carrying handle, stands about 9″ high. It’s made entirely out of 9mm marine plywood. On their website Chesapeake Light Craft says the toolbox is an “interpretation of the ‘classic tab-and-slot’ type favored by woodworkers for its ease of assembly.”

When the kit arrived, I was skeptical: I opened the box to reveal nothing more than a pile of machine-cut plywood pieces taped together. There were no fancy wrappings, not even any tools, but there was an illustrated instruction manual. I quickly scanned the 11 pages and was pleased to see large full-color photographs accompanied by one- or two-sentence directions showing the toolbox assembly, step by step. I read that I would need a file or rasp, some sandpaper, and some wood glue.

Photographs by the author

The 9mm plywood kit pieces are all accurately machine cut for snug fits. The small tabs seen at the bottom edges of many pieces are leftovers from the router-cutting process and need to be removed before assembly.

The tools are used at the beginning of assembly. Nearly all the pieces have small tabs left over from the cutting process and these must be removed prior to building the box. The manual recommends a rasp, file, or sanding block. I started with a file, but the process was frustratingly slow. I persevered with half-a-dozen of the tabs but with many still to do I decided to try a sharp-bladed knife. I carefully cut away the bulk of each tab and then sanded the edge smooth. In very short order all the tabs were gone, and I was ready to start assembling.

The parts are assembled in a particular order so that the finished tool box doesn’t need glue to hold it together.

Apart from one false turn at the very beginning when I failed to spot that the two side panels were not identical and that I had, by chance, started with the wrong one, the assembling process was quick and simple: the tenons and slots lined up perfectly and to my delight, in less than an hour, I was ready to install the carrying handle and locking keys. This was the only moment during the construction when I doubted the process. It is a tight fit to get the handle (two 9mm-plywood pieces glued together along their length) into the holes in the end panels. I had to use some gentle persuasion with a rubber mallet to get the two pieces to accept one another. Once the handle was through, the locking key slipped into place in its slot without complaint. I repeated the process at the other end and there it was: a completed plywood toolbox.

A few taps with a rubber mallet helped get the end pieces set.

During and after construction I smoothed most of the edges with 120-grit paper to remove splinters and round-off the hard cut of the plywood, but I was impressed by the ease of assembly and the look of the finished product. While the instructions indicate the marine-grade plywood doesn’t need to have a finish, I applied several coats of spray shellac, which I rubbed down between coats with a 3M scuff pad.

The handle is made of two pieces glued together to make it stronger and provide a more comfortable hand grip. The keys tapped into the ends of the handle hold it in place and lock the entire assembly together. The dividers in the center can be removed.

At the end of the construction, there were two extra pieces still on the bench, so I called Chesapeake Light Craft. They apologized that the pieces are not mentioned in the text but explained that I could glue them to either side of the top arc of the handle to increase the thickness, if desired, for carrying comfort. It might, indeed, improve the feel when the box is heavy with tools, but for my smaller hands I think I will just do a bit more smoothing of the edges and call it good.

A shellac finish brought out the color of the plywood. The middle divider has been removed to create a space for larger items.

After the shellac dried, all that was left to do was load up some tools. In each end, a shelf with holes can hold five screwdrivers and the two layers assure that the tools remain upright, handle at the ready. The wider ovals are useful for pliers, files and rasps, slender-handled paintbrushes and scrapers, and spokeshaves. In the main body of the box the partitions create spaces for palm planes, glue bottles, and tool rolls. Dividers can be removed for wider bays as needed.

Along the front, a 24-1⁄4″ full-length compartment will hold a framing square, hammer, larger brushes, and a short saw. Everything is kept in place and easily visible. Perhaps, when I go to work on one of the boats next spring, I’ll be able to spend time actually working instead of rummaging in my canvas bucket for the next elusive tool.

Jenny Bennett is the managing editor of Small Boats.

The CLC Tool Box Kit is available from Chesapeake Light Craft for $75.

Is there a product that might be useful for boatbuilding, cruising, or shore-side camping that you’d like us to review? Please email your suggestions.

The Ipswich Bay Skiff

Stan Grayson

The Pert Lowell Co. in Amesbury, Massachusetts, designed the Ipswich Bay Skiff for a customer who wanted a lightweight but rugged skiff that he could launch from the beach on a dolly.

Avid readers of Small Boats and WoodenBoat are accustomed to finding articles about flat-bottomed skiffs. There’s a good reason for this: While such boats are sometimes referred to as “humble,” the fact is that once they progress beyond the “flat-iron skiff” of yore—a primitive boat with a totally flat bottom lacking fore-aft upsweep, or “rocker—a skiff can become an elegant solution to all manner of waterborne needs. The more specialized those requirements become, the more the inherent adaptability of such comparatively simple boats tends to shine. The Ipswich Bay Skiff is a case in point.

“One day,” remembered Pert Lowell proprietor Ralph Johnson of how the new skiff came to be, “a customer walked in with WoodenBoat’s article about the Babson Island 14. But he didn’t want as much rocker, and he wanted more sheer [the curve described by the top of hull’s sides]. He had lots of other thoughts as well.”

The prospective buyer, who brought with him two manila folders full of ideas, had very specific criteria in mind. He planned to use a dolly to launch the boat from a sand beach bordering Ipswich Bay and then run it about a mile to his mooring in the Essex River. This meant the skiff would need to be sturdy yet reasonably light and seaworthy, and perform well under outboard power. What’s more, there was a desire for the vintage look of a straight, plumb stem and for some method of stowing a small anchor and rode that would be both neat and secure.

This is a boat that was designed initially not on paper but in three dimensions. “We set up temporary plywood molds,” said Ralph Johnson, a one-time banker who chucked that career to learn boatbuilding from his accomplished father-in-law, Pert Lowell, in Newbury, Massachusetts. “Once we had established where the stem, stern, and midpoint would be, we used a pair of flexible 18 battens to try out different curves. We’d nail the battens onto the molds, stand back and judge how things looked, and make adjustments.”

Stan Grayson

Solid mahogany rails and knees mask the boat’s sheetplywood construction, and several frames add stiffness to the topsides. The anchor stows neatly in the bow,
while the rode lives in a 5-gallon bucket.

Gradually, after 10 or 12 tries, the new skiff’s shape was literally nailed down. A graceful sheer was established that swept down from the bow to provide 15¾” freeboard at its lowest point, making for easy entry and egress, and back up to the 20 high transom. “There was a lot of talk,” said Ralph, “about how high the sides should be. It’s always a balance of aesthetics and function—keeping people relatively dry, including someone seated on the bow thwart.”

Because the stem is straight and the transom is angled just 13 degrees from vertical, the boat’s waterline is almost as long as possible, contributing to overall speed and performance. The shallow arc of the transom’s top was patterned after that of the Town Class sailboat, the venerable one-design developed at Pert Lowell’s in 1932.

A batten was also used to shape the bottom’s rocker. Aft, the bottom is totally flat to best support the weight of the outboard and deliver solid performance. The hull’s forward sections, however, have significant rocker. “We started out with 5 and lowered it to 3, said Johnson. “That proved to be enough.” The rocker provides buoyancy as weight is added, and contributes to a dry ride. The rocker also makes it easy to run the boat onto a beach for a sojourn ashore. A 3 oak keelson and a sturdy skeg contribute to directional stability.

Sheet plywood was selected as the primary building material because of its strength-to-weight ratio and cost-effectiveness. While opinion varies, Johnson prefers okoume to meranti and especially to today’s fir plywood, which tends to check badly. The bottom is constructed of two standard 8-long ½ okoume sheets scarfed together. The hull sides are scarfed ¼ okoume. “For structural reasons, I didn’t want all the scarfs to be in the same place,” Johnson said. “The bottom scarf is 8 from the stern while the hull sides are scarfed two-thirds of the way forward. It took us about two hours to scarf the panels together.” A sheathing of 10-oz fiberglass cloth set in epoxy covers the bottom and extends 2 up the hull sides ensuring a leak-free bottom that will withstand a lot of abuse.

The boat was built upside down over the final set of molds. To minimize weight, fir was used rather than oak for frames and chines. All these solid-wood components were sealed with epoxy and received a coat of red lead on their mating surfaces. At the bow, the hull sides are glued and screwed to the tough locust stem. A decorative yet functional “false stem” made of several white oak pieces epoxied together is a visual focal point that also serves as the attachment point for the neatly spliced painter. The bow is reinforced by a precisely fitted fir breasthook. A bronze strip protects the stem against impacts.

The top portion of the stem is stained to match the Philippine mahogany gunwale and inwale, which are secured with copper rivets. “Some small boats,” said Johnson, “are built without inwales, but I don’t think those hulls are stiff enough.” Stiffness and overall strength do not appear to be matters this boat’s owner will ever need to worry about, and Johnson admits that he expects his boats to last a lifetime.

Built into the bow section is a small shelf. A Danforth anchor is stowed here, secured in place to a pair of belaying pins. The latter are among the many wooden hardware offerings—mast hoops, cleats, and so forth—that are a production staple at Pert Lowell, Inc. They’re a nice touch.

At the stern, silicon-bronze screws join the 1¼-thick mahogany transom to nicely proportioned mahogany knees. The stern thwart, like the others, is built of pine screwed to the thwart risers. Closed-cell Styrofoam flotation is mounted beneath the thwart. The rear thwart is composed of five individual pieces, resulting in a visually interesting seat whose components can be individually removed for refinishing.

My first, and most lasting, visual impression of this boat was that it’s decidedly graceful, but it took me a few minutes to zero in on a subtle detail that helps make it so. Any boat with sheet plywood sides runs the risk of looking slab-sided, no matter how nice its proportions. The Ipswich Bay Skiff, however, has a decorative molding that runs from stem to stern. Echoing the boat’s sheerline, the molding at once contributes to an impression of flowing lines while reinforcing the 19th-century look suggested by the plumb stem.

Stan Grayson

Here, the boat is driven by a 4-hp Johnson four-stroke motor, which is 21 lbs heavier than a comparable out-of-production two-stroke model. There is a price to be paid in boat trim.

These days, anyone buying a boat intended for propulsion by a small outboard confronts the fact that new, small, two-stroke motors have been regulated out of existence. The 4-hp, four-stroke Johnson used for our photo session is quiet and clean, but at 57 lbs it’s a whopping 21 lbs heavier than one of OMC’s comparable, out-of-production, two-stroke models. Because of the negative impact on boat trim and performance, and awkward stresses on one’s wrists and back, it’s unlikely that anything heavier than the already discouraging 55–57 lbs of a new Johnson/Evinrude 4- to 5-hp motor would be acceptable. Manufacturers are making efforts to reduce the weights of their four-stroke outboards, but until the small ones become appreciably lighter, my local outboard mechanic would, I am certain, recommend scouring Craigslist and local outboard shops for a lightly used or reconditioned, long-shaft Johnson/Evinrude 5-hp two-stroke, or something similar.

With Ralph aboard, the 4-hp Johnson made reasonably easy work of tidal current in the picturesque Parker River, and the skiff coped well with a few overly large wakes that rolled beneath her and onto the sand flats and mud banks exposed by an ebbing tide. The boat seems well adapted for two adults, a child, and a dog on a day’s outing, and acceptable for three adults. It’s officially rated to carry 600 lbs, but one would need to give careful thought to packing four adults and their boat bags aboard for anything more than a short trip in protected water.

Stan Grayson

The Pert Lowell Co. developed the shape of the Ipswich Bay Skiff by first establishing the stem, stern, and ’midship dimensions. The shape was then refined on the building jig, with judgments made by eyeballing battens. The drawings shown here were developed after construction of the prototype, which has a transom inspired by the Town Class sloop (which Pert Lowell builds).

Costing around $4,200 including a careful paint job using marine enamels, this skiff is competitively priced. The Ipswich Bay Skiff is a deceptively simple boat whose several thoughtful details—the stem, the sheer molding, the anchor stowage, the graceful transom, and the multi-part stern thwart—make it an elegant little craft. It’s easily launched and retrieved from a trailer by one person, enhancing its usability—just what’s needed in a small boat. Intelligently handled and maintained, the Ipswich Bay Skiff should give a lot of pleasure.

Oddly enough, given the skiff’s absence of rocker aft, Johnson has found it to be surprisingly pleasant to row. “With one person, it really glides along,” he said. “It would be okay with two or three for shorter distances.” That said, someone looking for a pure rowing skiff would want one designed with that in mind. Altering the bottom configuration would be easy. Boatbuilder Johnson has his battens ready and waiting.


The Pert Lowell website no longer lists the Ipswich Bay Skiff as one of it regular offerings. This Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2014 and appears here as archival material.

Stan Grayson

Particulars:
LOA 13′ 6″
LWL 13′
Beam 4′ 6″
Draft (w⁄o motor) approx 3″
Weight (approx) 160 lbs
Transom height 20″

The Ultimate Freight Canoe

Donnie Mullen

Abundant cargo-carrying capacity was uppermost in Francis “Mick” Fahey’s mind when he designed a wood-and-canvas freight canoe for his own use in the 1960s. The canoe’s versatility has made its successors, including this Jerry Stelmok–built Moosehead Laker named FIELD OF STREAMS, popular among camp owners and fishing guides in the Maine lakes.

Maine is big. The last time my wife and I returned from an Allagash River trip, it took us more than five hours to drive from Fort Kent to Camden. Fort Kent is within sight of New Brunswick, and Camden is about halfway up the coast. Either a northern paddle trip or the long drive home would acquaint one with two of the state’s best features: its extensive forest and its phenomenal supply of fresh water.

It’s easy to forget that 150 years ago, travel in northern Maine was chiefly accomplished by small watercraft. As a result, interior Maine has a rich history of regional small craft. Recently, we set off in search of one of these old-time boats, to the fabled Kennebago Lake region in western Maine to experience firsthand a scarcely known regional craft, and the guide who is happy to sing its praises.

Bill Stevens first visited Kennebago Lake in 1958, when he was 12, on a fly-fishing trip with his father. Watching the grace of his father’s cast made a lasting impression, and thus began a lifelong love for the Maine outdoors shared between father and son, a connection that evolved to include the co-ownership of a camp on Kennebago since 1984, where Stevens (now retired) and his wife, Jan, spend their summers.

Stevens’s boat, FIELD OF STREAMS, is a 20 wood-and-canvas canoe, a model called the Moosehead Laker built by the expert hands of Jerry Stelmok and designed by legendary Maine woodsman and guide Francis “Mick” Fahey. In the 1960s, Fahey designed the boat in the spirit of North Woods freight canoes as a one-off, which he called VOYAGER. Fahey first carved a half model, which he then used to produce offsets to build a construction jig.

Donnie Mullen

The 4’-wide Moosehead Laker has generous tumblehome, affording great bearing surface, especially aft where the shape supports the weight of the outboard motor. A spray rail extends almost full length .

Specifically, VOYAGER was built to haul building supplies to his retirement home at Chesuncook Village, which at the time was accessible only by crossing Chesuncook Lake’s notoriously choppy 20-mile length. VOYAGER’s hull, which has a 4 beam and is 20 deep amidships, can carry 1,500 lbs of cargo and still hold a few passengers. Though VOYAGER was intended to handle a small outboard, Fahey built substantial rocker into the aft 3 of the keel, which left the narrow, 26” transom high enough to allow for efficient paddling and poling.

In 1982, a fire destroyed Fahey’s home along with his cherished VOYAGER. The form, however, was spared. Fahey was nearly 80 at the time and saw no reason to rebuild, so he handed his form on to a young Stelmok, his colleague Rollin Thurlow, and their nascent canoe-building business (see WB No. 67). (Although they are no longer business partners, Stelmok and Thurlow continue to share Fahey’s original form.) The young builders added stations to the inside of the form to strengthen it, increased the ribbands to assure a fair hull in repeated constructions, and installed steel bands to turn the points of clench nails.

Donnie Mullen

Fly casting is something of a “zen” experience, which can only be aided by being surrounded by the
beauty of a wood-and-canvas canoe’s interior. On the practical side, the fisherman has a stable platform
and ample working room forward.

Although the Moosehead Laker is an elegant and supremely capable freight canoe, most of the customers who came to Stelmok and Thurlow with an interest in the model—Stevens among them—were most attracted by the design’s promise for fishing or guiding, taking note of its comfort, space, and stability. Another draw for these clients was the boat’s square-sterned design, which allows the boat to carry an outboard motor. Also, its draft when empty was only about 4, which meant that it could cover miles easily yet sneak into the shallowest of inlets. The canoe is known for its stability, and substantial tumblehome makes the hull strong. Such tumblehome, however, can allow water to sneak in at the gunwales, so Fahey placed spray rails 6 to 8” below the sheer.

While Fahey limited his interior fitout to single seats at the stern and bow, Stelmok and Thurlow today can include an assortment of enhancements: mahogany bench seats, a deck with coamings, folding seats, a floor rack, storage drawers, and rowing stations, to name a few. When paddled, the Moose­head Laker benefits from having three or four people take to the paddles.

Fahey’s VOYAGER had significant sweep to the sheer at the bow, a purely romantic quality that helped distinguish his design from its more utilitarian brethren. Stelmok and Thurlow chose to decrease this sweep by a few inches.

Donnie Mullen

With a beam of 4’, the canoe has enough width to be rowed by two people, but it can also be paddled.

In 2010, after several years of ownership, Stevens made a rare trip outside the Kennebago watershed with FIELD OF STREAMS, launching it instead in Chesuncook Lake. With a mischievous grin, he pulled out his phone to capture an image of a sizable wave crashing over a darkly clad bow paddler. “That’s my wife,” he smirked. “She’s a good sport.” Clients have used Stelmok’s Moose­head Laker (and Thurlow’s version, called the Voyager model) in diverse waters ranging from Lake Erie to the Maine coast. Stelmok even outfitted one for sailing.

Early one August morning, while I waited at the dock below Grant’s Kennebago Camps, Stevens emerged silently from the edges of the mist-cloaked lake paddling FIELD OF STREAMS. No sooner had he welcomed me aboard than the fog swallowed us. As we bonded over a shared fondness for Stelmok’s work, I felt as though I had stepped back in time, to a simpler world of jovial guides, glistening wood canoes, and giant trout rising toward a well-placed fly.

Later, when the mist cleared, we headed toward Stevens’s beloved Upper River. The rounded, conifer-clad top of West Kennebago Mountain welcomed us to The Logan, a reedy wetland that separates the Upper Kennebago River from its lower half. Open water led to a narrow, graveled channel. I was happily overwhelmed, both by the beauty of the area and what I hoped to accomplish in the boat: paddle, row, motor, fly-fish.

In short, the Moosehead Laker is a versatile boat.

Donnie Mullen

The Moosehead Laker can take gear and passengers for extended fishing journeys, her quiet four-stroke outboard hardly breaking the tranquility of the day. The anchor forward can be set from the cockpit to hold her quietly steady while casting.

As we ascended the stream, Stevens stuck his paddle overboard to illustrate the limited depth required to float FIELD OF STREAMS, a mere half a paddle blade. I was reminded of Fahey, who once observed, “I fear the short canoe is made for an unknowing and gullible public,” after his 20-footer passed unscathed over a shallows that wreaked havoc on a fleet of 16 canoes.

When Stevens and I reached a high-banked pool, he turned us around and handed me the paddle. I was giddy, and a tad anxious, to take command of the girth and length of the mesmerizing hull. While I eased us downstream, Stevens stood in the bow and cast. When a family of kayakers passed us, Stevens announced, “This is a real treat. I’ve never fished from up here.”

Donnie Mullen

For Maine Guide Bill Stevens, a wood-and-canvas canoe is part of the experience of Kennebago Lake, where he first visited with family in 1958. He has summered at his camp on the lake since 1984, and he has been a registered Maine Guide since 2001.

For my part, I found the Moosehead Laker easier to singlehand than I had expected, though I did have blisters by day’s end. During a moment of drift, I exclaimed, “This is a big boat, but it still acts like a canoe.” Stevens concurred. He said that he prefers the paddle to the motor or oars. He uses the motor to cross the lake or head upstream and then pulls out the paddle for the fine maneuvering. When it comes to stability and tracking, the Moosehead Laker takes care of itself, according to Stevens. He generally doesn’t even have to counterbalance while a client fishes. As I navigated a tight bend in the river, Stevens said, “See now, it even turns on a dime.” When I swung wide and ducked under some brush, he added, “Well, maybe a quarter.” I did find the bow a bit unwieldy when a straightaway coincided with some wind. In these circumstances, Stevens doesn’t hesitate to drop the paddle and go for the motor. Easy for us paddle geeks to forget, but the Moose­head Laker is a motorboat first.

When we returned to the lake, I got a crack at the motor. Stevens uses a 5-hp outboard, favoring its lightness, although Fahey used a 7.5-hp. As we sped off, Stevens leaned back comfortably against the deck. Not surprisingly, the Moosehead Laker tracked like a bullet and carved gracefully while the interior remained dry. When we reached the middle of the lake, I cut the motor and rowed us back to shore. I found the Moosehead Laker a delight to row, though not as nimble as the local 17 Rangeley boat type. Before we parted, Stevens insisted I try a few casts. The hull felt so solid beneath me, I might as well have been standing on land.

Earlier in the day, as we hung below West Kennebago, surrounded by the moose-friendly Logan, I had said to Stevens, “I understand why you don’t tire of this place.” Later, it occurred to me that Stelmok had once said as much about building his boats: the process had held his interest all these years because he never tired of gazing at the interior of a freshly varnished wood-and-canvas canoe.

As I stepped back onto the dock at Grant’s, FIELD OF STREAMS’s mahogany and cedar were ablaze in the midday sun. While Stevens motored toward his century-old camp, my mind wandered back over the foggy morning, to the era when wood and canvas reigned.


Jerry Stelmok, Island Falls Canoe, www.islandfallscanoe.com.
Rollin Thurlow, Northwoods Canoe Company, www.wooden-canoes.com.
Bill Stevens, Kennebago Fly Fishing, [email protected]

Rescue Minor

Kees Prins

Shallow draft, center console, room for a family, and an electric motor make this Rescue Minor, built by students at the Great Lakes Boat Building School, an ideal boat for Michigan’s Les Cheneaux Islands.

A couple of years ago, Bill Hunt of Aspen, Colorado, was looking for a boat with a very shallow draft. Hunt is a summer resident of Michigan’s Les Cheneaux Islands, and his home waters of Lakes Huron and Michigan currently have lower water levels than normal. Due to a combination of human and environmental factors the lakes are about 2 below mean level. As a result, many areas in the Les Cheneaux Islands have become inaccessible or hazardous for deep-draft boats. For his purposes, Hunt settled on a modified version of Rescue Minor.

William Atkin designed the Rescue Minor in 1942 as a military launch capable of rescuing wounded soldiers and sailors at speed from very shallow waters. The Atkin website (www.atkinboatplans.com) describes the design as a “tunnel-stern V-bottom Seabright skiff.” Besides the Rescue Minor, the Atkins designed several other tunnel-hulled boats, from a 17 utility scow to a 50 houseboat.

Atkin’s Rescue Minor is 196 long and with two people aboard draws only 6, even at top speed. How is this possible for an inboard-powered craft of this size, considering the placement of the motor, shaft angles, prop size, and so forth? The answer is found in Atkin’s incorporation of a “box keel” into the hull. This type of keel takes the form of a smaller flat-bottomed boat beneath the much bigger main hull.

At the forward sections, the hull looks like a typical double-chined powerboat. About two-thirds of the way aft, however, the hull’s transition to the box keel becomes evident. The flat bottom continues in a straight line, forming the narrower flat bottom of the box keel. The upper chine continues in a fair curve to the lower transom corners. The lower chine, however, narrows and rises aft, forming the joint at the hull’s centerline where the top of the box keel sides meet the hull bottom. The result forms a tunnel stern.

The box keel comes to point quite a bit before the transom and just in front of the propeller. The propeller extends no lower than the bottom of the box keel, so it is protected in shallow waters. When the boat is at rest the propeller is partly out of the water. As the boat starts to move through the water, the water runs past the sides of the box keel into the cavity holding the propeller. The wash of the water in these channels immerses the propeller completely, resulting in a very easy motion through the water. The Rescue Minor is a fast boat that rests upright on a beach, moves smoothly through chop, and is very fuel-efficient; some owners report figures of over 25 mpg.

Kees Prins

The Rescue Minor’s box keel directs water to the finely formed horn timber that supports the propeller.

The second-year students in the Wood/Epoxy Composite program of the Great Lakes Boat Building School in Cedarville, Michigan, took on the construction of the new boat, NEPENTHEas their major project for the year. Kees Prins, their instructor, considered the longstanding heritage of runabout designs of the Les Cheneaux Islands and the characteristics of the waters of upper Lake Huron in his revision of the Atkin design. He kept everything below the waterline exactly as drawn, but revised the topsides lines of NEPENTHE.

Prins introduced more flare in the bow, provided a bit more sweep to the sheer, and reshaped the stern, curving the transom and adding a pleasing amount of tumblehome aft. Hunt preferred to have a center console for better balance when driving the boat solo, so Prins fitted\ seating for four adults along with storage for their gear around this centerpiece.

Beyond these structural modifications, NEPENTHE also differs in its means of propulsion, using an electric motor instead of an internal-combustion engine. The motor for NEPENTHE is a 6.5-hp, 48-volt standard brush-type, which has a range of 24 nautical miles at 6 knots or 50 nautical miles at 5 knots. Given the pristine natural beauty of the area and the proximity of the 13 major islands in the Les Cheneaux archipelago, those ranges work very well with convenient charging in several locations.

Bud McIntire

NEPENTHE’s center console hides three of her four batteries along with the charger and motor controller.

The motor requires 700 lbs of batteries, resulting in a challenge for Prins and his students to accommodate and balance them all in the hull. The four 255AH AGM (absorbed glass mat) batteries each weigh 175 lbs. The builders placed one battery in the forward compartment and three under the console. The boat floats nicely on her lines, although the battery weight caused the draft to increase from the as-designed 6 to 8, with a total displacement of 1,800 lbs. The class estimates that the plywood-epoxy hull itself weighs about 400 lbs less than a hull built exactly as drawn by Atkin, offsetting the additional weight of the batteries somewhat.

The students began lofting the boat in early October 2012. After lofting, they built a strongback and positioned along it 34 Douglas-fir frames 24 on center. The 1½-square sternpost and the floor timbers of 38” marine plywood came next, followed by the laminated, curved transom. Installing the four laminated Douglas-­fir chine logs, two at the top of the box keel and two at the chine, and the ¾ marine-plywood bottom was a bit tricky, as the hull requires a good bit of twist in these pieces as they run from the stem to the start of the tunnel. The students determined that it could be done without breaking the plywood or having to kerf it. The tunnel’s shape at the after end of the hull required a unique horn timber, carefully crafted from sapele by one of the students to funnel the water coming past the box keel onto the blades of the protected propeller.

Next came the topsides. Instead of the ¾ marine plywood specified on the plans, the class used glued strakes of 3⁄8 marine plywood. After the planking was finished, the class reinforced the entire exterior with fiberglass cloth set in epoxy. Then they flipped the boat right-side up and work began on the interior. The sapele inner keel reinforces the rudderpost and propeller shaft. The students installed a stainless-steel rudder, as called for in Atkin’s original design, driven by a cable steering system.

There are watertight bulkheads forward and aft, which add strength and provide storage space and buoyancy in the boat’s ends. The flotation volume is sufficient, even considering the weight of the batteries and motor, for the boat to have positive flotation if swamped. To determine the placement of the batteries, the class considered the boat’s trim foremost, but also took into account the layout of the console and seating arrangement. They built plywood mockups of several console arrangements and conferred with the owner in deciding on the best design. Putting three of the four batteries and the motor controller and charger near the center of the boat under the tilting console resolved this key issue. Then they laid out the remaining seating around the console, making enough room for four adults to sit comfortably in the boat.

Kees Prins

Kees Prins’s modifications to the Rescue Minor included a center console, seating for four adults, electric power, and flotation compartments forward and aft.

The class launched NEPENTHE a couple of days before their June 6 graduation, so they had an opportunity to cruise the waterways and enjoy the quiet pace of the boat. Hunt and his family have been well satisfied with both the performance and the quality of the finished craft. He knew that the electric propulsion system would not get the boat anywhere close to its planing speed of 18 knots, but he preferred the quiet-running electric drive, combined with Rescue Minor’s size and shallow draft, as the best combination for him and his family. He has found that even in a 1 to 2 chop, the boat cuts through the water without pounding, tracks very well, and is relatively dry at cruising speed. Part of this stability and tracking is related to placing the heavy batteries low in the boat. Hunt has found that the partially submerged prop cavitates when reversing, and can be a challenge; however, he solves the issue by keeping weight in the stern when backing down.

In terms of improvements, Hunt has suggested that he would like to change to a more sophisticated battery system when the pricing becomes reasonable. A lighter battery, such as lithium-ion, or even a switch to an internal-combustion engine, would reduce the weight and raise the center of gravity with resulting changes in handling. It would also give the boat more range and speed. Given the space allocated for the conventional batteries, this is a change that could easily be made at a future date.

The project was a most rewarding accomplishment for the students as well as their instructor, and one that satisfied a very discerning client. And in the end, what could be better than a beautiful summer’s day gliding into shallow waters in which the family can splash and play, then silently heading for home with the lap of water on the strakes, the wind and the eagles above as the only sounds. Perhaps that’s why Hunt named the boat NEPENTHE, after an ancient Greek medicinal compound formulated to help people forget their cares and worries.


Plans no longer available from Atkin Boat Plans, plans will eventually be offered through Mystic Seaport. More information available from Great Lakes Boat Building School.

William Atkin

The sectional views below show how the underbody of William Atkin’s Rescue Minor changes drastically in shape from bow to stern. At right, the top body plan is by Kees Prins and the bottom one is by William Atkin. Prins kept the underbody exactly the same, but above the waterline he hollowed the bow sections slightly and added significant tumblehome to the stern.

William Atkin

Particulars:
LOA 19′ 6″
LWL 19′ 0″
Beam 5′ 8″
Draft 8″
Displ 1,800 lbs
Power 48-volt, 6-hp electric motor

The Peterborough Nomad

John Summers

This 15′ cedar-strip Peterborough Nomad by Woodwind Yachts was built on a mold created from an original Nomad launched by the Peterborough Canoe Company in 1958.

As the market for recreational canoes expanded in the later years of the 19th century, two construction techniques emerged as builders responded to the challenges of manufacturing canoes on an industrial scale. The Old Town (Maine) Canoe Company and the Chestnut Canoe Company of Fredericton, New Brunswick, developed wood-and-canvas construction. In Peterborough, Ontario, and nearby towns, builders such as The Ontario Canoe Company, later to become the Peterborough Canoe Company, pioneered cedar-strip construction. This technique was based on John S. Stephenson’s 1883 patent for “Longitudinal Cedar Strip” construction (hereafter referred to simply as “cedar-strip”), which was awarded Canada Patent No. 32701 and U.S. Patent No. 292183.

Although there were many builders who employed the technique, the Peterborough Canoe Company became the best-known proponent of it, and their cedar-strip boats and canoes were sold around the world. By the mid-1950s their catalog offered cedar-strip hulls in a wide range of sizes and styles from open outboard boats to small cabin cruisers. Stephenson’s patented method, originally conceived for canoe construction, turned out to be a darned good way to build small wooden boats in general, and lots of them, too. No one will ever know exactly how many cedar-strip watercraft the Peterborough-­area companies turned out, but it is certainly in the tens of thousands. The cedar-strip outboard became the archetypal boat of cottage country in central and eastern Canada, and today many are still on the water. They are often well represented in the displays at antique and classic boat shows.

John Summers

The walk-through bridge-deck configuration is convenient for changing places under way.

Over the last 30 years, Ken Lavalette and his crew at Woodwind Yachts in Nestleton, Ontario, have restored more than 50 cedar-strip boats, many of them made by the Peterborough Canoe Company. Well loved and well used, they often come into his shop more than a little worse for wear and leave looking a whole lot better. As he worked on these boats, it occurred to Ken that often the number of hours required to restore them wasn’t far off what it would take to build one from scratch. At 15 LOA and 5 beam, the Peterborough Nomad runabout was big enough to carry a few people and their gear, but small enough to be easily trailered and stored. Was there a market for a new, traditionally built, cedar-strip runabout?

Lavalette decided to build a boat to test the market, so he measured an original 1957–58 Nomad and built the robust, nearly solid mold required for this method of construction. The Nomad was from the upper end of the Peterborough Canoe Company’s offerings, just below the Niagara model, which was advertised as “The Elite of the Fleet.” Of the Nomad and her shorter sister the Meander, the 1959 catalog said, “Where price is a consideration and an attractive craft, not quite as advanced in styling as our deluxe Sportliners, is desired, we offer our 14 Meander and 15 Nomad. Both models are proven designs and will give fast, seaworthy service.” Owners could have the boat as an open outboard or add steering, windshield, and deck hardware to turn the Nomad into the double-cockpit runabout described here. The sail-away price in 1959 was $730.

John Summers

With an all-up weight of between 400 and 500 lbs, depending on the motor, the Nomad trailers and launches easily.

Stephenson’s cedar-strip building method differs from contemporary wood-strip epoxy construction. The narrow and relatively thin planks, most often of red cedar, have ship-lapped edges and are fastened to steam-bent ribs. For each design, builders developed several plank shapes that together could be combined to cover the entire hull. This eliminated spiling each plank and meant that stock could be precut in large quantities to expedite construction. The shape of the planks, widest in the middle and tapered toward each end, meant that they could be started parallel to the keel and finish parallel to the gunwale without the need for stealers or the “football” shape commonly seen in wood-strip epoxy construction. It also avoided having the ends sweep upward and run out along the sheerline, as was sometimes done by other builders.

Despite the fact that he’d repaired many cedar-strip hulls, Lavalette had never built one from scratch, so there was some calculating to be done. The real intellectual property in cedar-strip construction lies in the mold itself and the plank patterns, so Lavalette set about lining off his mold to determine the plank shapes required. The prototype boat was built with two distinct plank shapes, but his later hulls have four or five. This more evenly divides the heavily curved area at the turn of the bilge, and avoids a somewhat unsightly downward turn of the hood ends as the planking approaches the bow. It’s the kind of detail only another boatbuilder would notice, but he wants to get it right and admits that he’s relearned on the job some of the tricks that the old factory builders figured out a long time ago.

Though he left the hull shape unchanged from the original, Lavalette slightly increased the scantlings of the stem, keel, ribs, transom, planking, and deck, based on what he had learned from his many restorations of this type. He made the stem from white oak laminated with epoxy, and the keel was solid white oak, notched for the ribs before being fastened to the mold. The half-round ribs were also oak and the transom mahogany. He steamed and bent the ribs into the notches on the keel, tucking their ends into cleats fastened to the mold at the sheerline. Before planking, he thoroughly varnished the back sides of the ribs and the end-grain of the transom.

Lavalette made the decks and planking from red cedar and the cockpit coamings from oak. The dashboard and other cockpit trim was mahogany. Building for longevity, he precoated each piece of wood with three coats of varnish prior to assembly. Later he’d give the whole hull structure another four coats before launching.

John Summers

With a rebuilt 1950s 35-hp Johnson outboard, the originally recommended power, the Nomad promises solid performance, with a top speed in the high 20s.

The Nomad built by Woodwind Yachts is simple and elegant inside, with only the bare minimum of hardware and fittings. The new hull is complemented by refurbished original 1950s running gear. Lavalette prefers to recondition period two-stroke outboards for the boats he sells, and he sticks with the original builder’s recommendation of a 35-hp motor. One customer wanted and received a four-stroke 50-hp unit, but that’s not recommended for everyone.

The boat trailers and launches easily. Underway, it can take a while to get to know the original controls, especially if you’re accustomed to a modern single-lever control and Teleflex steering. Because the Johnson shift unit has separate levers for the throttle and gear shift, and will only shift at very low rpms, you need to plan a little farther ahead when coming in to a dock. The pulley-and-cable steering also takes a bit more time to respond, but you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Underway, the boat feels solid and reliable. Though 25 mph is not at all fast by today’s standards, it’s a speed that will get you where you want to go and still let you have a pleasant conversation on the way. It might also save enough on gas, even with an older two-stroke, to let you pay for dinner when you get there. The Nomad turns and banks cleanly without skidding and, once the manual trim on the motor is adjusted, planes out to a nice level ride. With simple lines and an elegant all-bright finish, the boat is a head-turner both on the water and on the road. Because they were so popular, these cedar-strip boats seem to elicit fond recollections from onlookers.

As a modern classic, the Nomad combines the beauty of tradition with the durability and integrity of a brand-new boat. If you’re looking for a beautiful but also eminently practical small runabout, the Peterborough Nomad could be the boat, and Woodwind Yachts would be happy to build one for you. If you would like to do a good deed by finding an original one that is in need of a new home and a little work, that would be a good thing too. Commissioning a new one or refurbishing an old one will make the boating world a better and more attractive place.


New Peterborough Nomads built in the traditional longitudinal cedar-strip technique and equipped with rebuilt 1950s outboards are available from Woodwind Yachts. Used cedar-strip boats in a variety of sizes and configurations can often be found for sale in classified ads and at antique and classic boat shows and auctions.

Particulars:

LOA 15′ 3″
Beam 5′ 3″
Draft 6″
w/outboard 18″
Power 35-hp

Thompson Thomboy

ROD MELOTTE PHOTO IMAGERY

The author’s THOMMY, a 1955 Thompson Thomboy, is in original condition, with nothing anachronistic or out of place.

The term “Thompson Boat” conjures a picture of a white-painted lapstrake outboard boat with a stained and varnished mahogany deck and windshield frame. But these “iconic” Thompson watercraft were actually made for about a 15-year period in the company’s 92 years of operation, from the mid-1950s until the company dropped wooden boats from its product line in 1969. For much of the company’s history, cedar-strip hulls were the norm.

The Thomboy, one such boat, was introduced in late 1951 for the 1952 model year by Thompson Bros. Boat Mfg. Co. during the economic boom after the end of World War II. She was designed by Edward Thompson, one of six brothers who owned and operated the boat works. Thompson attended a naval architecture course as a young man and was a gifted designer.

A deluxe model at the time, the Thomboy came standard with the most factory-installed hardware and accessories the company offered. Wrap-around windshield, steering wheel and steering cables, navigation lights, bow and stern lifting rings and chocks were all standard. She was introduced that year as a 14-footer. In ’53, the company added a 16 version.

Thompson, with plants at Peshtigo, Wisconsin, and Cortland, New York, was the world’s largest builder of outboard boats. Peter Thompson started in the boatbuilding business in 1889 with Racine Hardware Mfg. Co., maker of Racine boats, and he later worked for Christopher Columbus Smith, founder of Chris-Craft, at Algonac, Michigan, before venturing out on his own with his brother Christ in 1904.

Andreas Jordahl Rhude

Original details, like the intact Thompson logo at the center of the steering wheel, contribute to a vintage boat’s authenticity.

Strip-built hulls and carvel-planked boats were common at Thompson. Small rowboats and outboard motorboats were the focus, but Thompson also claimed in a 1944 promotional flyer that the company was the world’s largest builder of one-design sailboats. They did make sailboats for many classes, including the SeaGull, Lightning, Snipe, Olympic, Cub, Comet, and Red Head. Their claim at being the largest builder of sailboats, however, may have been nothing more than boldness and company puffery.

Thompson had 62 models in its product lineup the year the Thomboy was introduced. Around 5,000 boats were built each year at the Peshtigo boat works and 4,000 more were built in the branch factory at Cortland. At Peshtigo, the output reached the astounding figure of 8,000 boats in the factory’s peak year, or 152 boats every week, 30 boats each workday. The factory was abuzz with saws, planers, and molders, and several hundred workers were busy building fine wooden boats.

Andreas Jordahl Rhude

Like many Thompsons, the Thomboy model was stripplanked over white oak frames, using western red cedar for the bottom and Philippine mahogany for the topsides.

The double-cockpit Thomboy runabout is strip-built with western red cedar below the spray rail and Philippine mahogany above the rail. The bead-and-cove strip planks are 3⁄8 thick and 11⁄8 wide. The boats were painted white below the spray rail and varnished above. The spray rail itself was a Thompson invention from the 1920s. The plywood decks and solid covering boards were stained a two-tone scheme, with dark and blond mahogany. This was a common finishing style among powerboat builders in the 1950s.

The 350-lb boat has a centerline length of 132 and beam of 55. The structural framing components such as keel, keelson, stringers, and steam-bent frames and stem are all-heartwood white oak. The strip planks are screw-fastened to the frames. Unlike some boatbuilders, Thompson did not nail the adjacent planks to each other through the width. The company was so proud of the Thomboy that she graced the cover of the 1953 brochure. Interestingly, the Thomboy was made at the Peshtigo factory only.

Andreas Jordahl Rhude

A mid-1950s boat begs for an appropriate outboard, in this case a 35-hp Johnson from 1957.

My ’55 Thomboy, called THOMMY, is in original condition, with no changes other than maintenance varnish coats added to the original varnish and paint on the bottom. She has never been restored.

The boat is pushed by a 1957 Johnson 35-hp outboard motor. The motor has a unique after-market tilt-and-lift system called a Lec-O-Lift, a hydraulic device operated by a hand pump on the dashboard. It was made by Cass Machine Screw Company in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The boat is very fun to drive. She is used sparingly and with great care, but by no means is she a “trailer queen.” She is easy to launch and retrieve single-handed. At 350 lbs, she is amazingly seaworthy for such a Lilliputian boat. When banking tightly on curves, your elbows nearly hit the water!

In 1955, Thompson offered, as an add-on, fiberglass sheathing of the hull bottom from spray rail to spray rail. That option, which added $42 to the price, was included on this boat at the time of manufacture.

ROD MELOTTE PHOTO IMAGERY

The 14’ Thomboy model is very small for a runabout, but its ease of handling makes her a joy to drive, and being close to the water accentuates the sense of speed.

I am the third caretaker of the boat. She was originally ordered as a gift by a mother for her son’s 16th birthday. The boat arrived at Rhinelander, Wisconsin, from the Peshtigo factory, all wrapped up and crated. She was lifted off the delivery rig and transferred to another truck and driven to the Pelican Lake Boat Shop, a dealership at nearby Pelican Lake. There, she was outfitted with a 1956 Evinrude Lark 30-hp outboard motor. She was the queen of the lake for many years. The young owner and his friends used her for pulling water-skiers and cruising. The second owner was a childhood buddy of the original owner. He was there when the boat was delivered by Thompson to Rhinelander in 1955. He obtained her in 1972. The first two owners took great care of the boat. She was wiped clean after each use and any water in the boat was carefully mopped up. Ultimately the motor was replaced with a 35-hp 1957 Johnson.

No one knows exactly how many of the speedy little runabouts were produced between 1952 and 1956, the four years the type was produced. It must have been a low number compared to other models. In 1953, the 14 Thomboy was priced at $725 and the 16-footer was $870, with standard accessories, not including the motor or the trailer. It was by far the most expensive model. The 15 Ranger canoe, the company’s lowest-priced boat, was only $168. THOMMY was ordered with the optional factory-upholstered seats, which added $125 more to the base price.

Today only 18 Thomboy boats are known to exist. There may be more hidden away, waiting to be discovered. I own two of the 18: THOMMY and another 1955 version that is in dire need of a major restoration. THOMMY the Thomboy is a multiple award-winner at several antique and classic boat shows.

The Thompson Thomboy is a fun, nimble watercraft. Her beautiful, streamlined hull handles rough water like a much bigger boat. This particular boat has brought joy to many people over the past 58 years. Cheers to another six decades of boating and enjoyment!


For information on Thompson runabouts, see www.thompsondockside.com. The author is the president of Thompson Antique & Classic Boat Rally, Inc.

Andreas Jordahl Rhude

Attentive care over the decades has kept THOMMY in pristine condition.

Cygnet 20

In late 2015, having left the demands of corporate work behind,  I returned to sailing after an absence of 35-plus years as crew on an Elan 310 fractional sloop, racing as a member of the Royal Brighton Yacht Club on Port Phillip Bay in Victoria, Australia. I quickly started looking around for a suitable sailboat that I could use on non-racing days. To my dismay, I discovered that Australia, unlike the U.K., U.S., and many European countries, offered a paucity of viable craft. Many, if not most, of the available boats ranged from 30 to 50 years in age and, more often than not, required a major overhaul or a dignified burial.

Over the next three years, I took several wrong turns and traveled hours to view duds with more holes than the ridiculous number of zeros in the asking price. But at last, I narrowed my search and settled on looking for a trailerable sailboat. I also knew that it needed to be a boat I could sail on my own with minimal help, if needed, from my wife. In late 2019, I happened upon Bluewater’s Cygnet 20.

The Cygnet 20 originated in 2013 with a brief by Bluewater Cruising Yachts’ founder, David Bradburn, presented to yacht designers Will Hardcastle and Peter Lowe, to create an entry-level cruising yacht at an affordable price, with overnight or weekend accommodation for a couple or family of four. In August 2017, the prototype was launched at the Sydney Boat Show.

The 23′ design was inspired by England’s small traditional gaff-rigged working boats. It evokes the past with its plumb stem and only slightly raked transom, fixed bowsprit, samson post, transom-hung rudder on bronze pintles and gudgeons, classic portholes, and of course, tanbark sails and high-peaked gaff. In just a few years, the Cygnet 20 has become a highly sought-after inland-waterways cruiser across Australia, suitable for both river raids and competition racing; one was even recently delivered to Lake George in upstate New York.

Jan Kent

Still in the shop under construction, the lifting coach roof, with its simple expanding cross-struts, is clearly visible. This unusual feature increases headroom, ventilation, and natural light in the cabin.

The hull is built in two pieces. The first, a hand-laid, solid fiberglass molding, incorporates the hull and centerboard case. The second molding, also of hand-laid fiberglass, includes the deck, cabin, cockpit, water-ballast tanks, and interior structures including the berths. The two moldings are joined by an external hull flange at the gunwale, which is capped with a Pacific teak (Vitex) rubrail. Between the rubrail and the coach roof there is a narrow side deck, which provides a secure walkway along the entire length of the boat. The mast, gaff, boom, and bowsprit are carbon fiber and the sails are from Hood Sails in Sydney.

The mast is stepped in a deck-mounted stainless-steel tabernacle supported by a stainless-steel compression post mounted on the keel; it is held in place with a stainless-steel through-pin. The rudder is hung on bronze pintles and is easily removable. The foiled centerboard is of laminated fiberglass with 220 lbs of internal lead ballast. The bowsprit is mounted to the samson post, which acts as a secure mooring bitt.

All surfaces (hull, deck, coach roof, and interior) are offered in Oyster White as standard, but there is a wide range of hull-color options.

The rigging, and most of the deck hardware, is from Ronstan or Harken including jib tracks, jam cleats, mooring cleats, and standing-rigging fittings. The shrouds are U-bolted through the hull-and-deck joint, while the forestay is bolted to the end of the bowsprit, and the bobstay is U-bolted to the stem just above the boot top. Tufnell blocks and Langman cordage are fitted as standard and further complement the traditional look and feel of gaff-rigged boats.

Construction, including all rigging and interior outfitting, is by Bluewater Cruising Yachts who offer various optional items. For example, I chose to add four wooden Pacific teak (Vitex) handrails, a pop-top incorporated with the companionway hatch that includes a color-matched WeatherMAX UV fabric enclosure that features roll-up window covers, bug screens, and complete companionway zip-through access. It allows for full standing headroom below and increases the cabin’s natural light and ventilation.

While the Cygnet 20 is a production boat, that does not prevent the enthusiast from adding their own personal touches. I have added cabin instruments, including a barometer and clock, and a depthsounder, fitted a removable anchor roller, replaced the original sheet bags, and am working on wooden racks for a hand-held VHF, binoculars, and iPad.

Dairne Lee John

The spacious cockpit and high boom offer plenty of comfort for sailing with company, and with a tiller extension and running lines that all lead back to the cockpit, everything is easily to hand for the singlehanded sailor.

 

The Cygnet 20 has a towing weight of 1,874 lbs. Loaded onto a single-axle trailer, offered by Bluewater, the Cygnet 20 can be towed by most family cars or an SUV.

When the Cygnet 20’s mast is lowered it pivots in the tabernacle, along with the boom, gaff, and both sails, which remain attached, and it is supported on a removable timber boom crutch at the stern. The rig is raised and lowered complete—the sails are bent on, the gaff and boom are attached to the mast, and the furled jib is left in place on the forestay. To rig the boat is straightforward, even for a singlehander: insert the two drain bungs, remove the trailer straps, remove and roll-up the one-piece sail cover, attach the Windex vane to the masthead, loosen all lines and remove any ties, and raise the mast while hauling in the forestay, which is led through a sheave at the end of the bowsprit then back to the cockpit. After the mast comes to a stop—fully upright in the tabernacle—the person doing the hauling walks forward to tie the forestay off at a bow-mounted cleat. Finally, a stainless-steel locking pin is inserted through the tabernacle and mast.

All that remains to be done is to raise the topping lift to free the boom crutch so it can be folded and put away, adjust the shroud tension (if necessary), tidy all lines, hang fenders, give one final check all around, and then launch the boat off the trailer. From start to finish, the boat can be rigged and launched within 30 minutes.

Thanks to the hull profile, the Cygnet 20 can stand upright when dried out. The forefoot is deep and flows into a wide, flat keel plank. With the engine, rudder, and centerboard raised you can run the boat up onto a sandy beach, drop the sand anchor, and camp overnight.

The cockpit features two lazarettes, a deep coaming for good back support and a dry ride in a strong wind, and a nonskid surface throughout that offers surprisingly comfortable seating even without cushions. There is no mainsheet traveler; instead, the mainsheet is led through a 4:1 block-and-tackle system anchored in the center of the cockpit sole. As a result, the cockpit feels uncluttered and spacious and has ample seating for four adults. The starboard lazarette houses the fuel tank for the outboard motor as well as access for the fuel line. The port lazarette houses a hand-operated bilge pump, which is also used to empty the two internal water-ballast tanks, one located beneath (and across) the two quarter berths and the other tank beneath (and across) the cockpit sole aft of the centerboard. Each has a capacity of 63-1⁄2 U.S. gallons, and water is let in via a bronze through-hull and stainless-steel valves. The rear tank, subject to sailing conditions and preferences, can be isolated and not filled; filling the forward tank is a prerequisite before setting off. I found that on light wind days, with four adults on board, the Cygnet was well-balanced with only the forward ballast tank filled to capacity.

Jan Kent

The two quarter berths are each more than 6′ in length making them suitable for taller crewmembers. The optional folding table sits above the centerboard trunk and provides a useful work surface even when folded away; when extended it is large enough for four people to dine in comfort.

Emptying the tanks requires about 100 strokes for the forward tank or about 150 strokes for both tanks. The system offers ballast flexibility: it can be adjusted according to conditions and crew numbers as well as used to reduce the weight for trailering. When filled, the ballast tanks add about 500 lbs to the overall weight.

Down below, the cabin has four berths. The two settee berths are 6′6″ long and ideal for those who are taller than 6′, while the V-berth in the bow is extremely comfortable for those under 6′. A porta-potti stows beneath the V-berth, while in the main cabin area there is a cupboard and sink to port and a cupboard with benchtop to starboard. An (optional) fold-out timber table, fitted over the centerboard case, provides adequate dining space for four. Lockers beneath all the berths—four under the settees and two under the V-berth—provide plenty of easily-accessed storage. The cabin sides and overhead are finished in V-grooved plywood, but other options are available. The companionway washboards are 7⁄16″ opaque acrylic and can be stowed in two purpose-made bags when not in use.

On my boat, auxiliary power is delivered by a Tohatsu 6-hp four-stroke long-shaft outboard mounted directly to the port side of the transom. (Previously a center motorwell for an inboard-outboard motor was offered, but this has been converted to a locker that can be used as an ice box—just add a bag of ice and your favorite drinks.) My motor can power the boat, with bare poles, up to 5 knots with minimal effort. A connecting arm from the outboard to a tiller provides positive control, in forward and reverse, and can be disengaged when sailing; it is part of Cygnet outfitting. The outboard can be raised out of the water when sailing to reduce drag. The tiller is Pacific teak (Vitex), and the fiberglass rudder blade can be pivoted up above the waterline for beaching and trailering.

Jan Kent

There is plenty of natural light throughout the cabin, thanks to the portlights, large companionway hatch and, when opened, the lifting coachroof. The forward V-berth conceals a porta-potti and lockers beneath its cushions.

Under sail, movement around the cockpit is easy and the view forward is rarely obscured by the jib. The running lines, including jibsheets, all three halyards—jib, peak, and throat—and the topping lift are led back to jam cleats on the cabintop, within easy reach of the crew. I have added a Ronstan tiller extension so that I can also reach all the lines when helming, taking just one step forward to trim either sail while maintaining complete control of the rudder.

The Cygnet 20 provides a remarkably stable platform that tracks true and holds its course with a very light touch on the tiller. The pivoting centerboard, raised and lowered on a 10:1-ratio winch, allows the crew to bring the center of gravity aft in stronger winds by raising the board 25%, which in turn improves the windward heading. In approximately 10 knots of breeze, Navionics on the iPhone recorded our speed between 5.4 and 6.0 knots. The boat is exceptionally responsive to the helm and easily picks up speed after tacking. There’s no concern when jibing, as the helmsman can easily swing the main across with the mainsheet directly at hand.

The water ballast allows the boat’s center of gravity to be lowered, making the boat both more stable and more comfortable in stronger winds; the relatively short and light rig also contributes to this stability.

Dairne Lee John

The plumb stem, short bowsprit, high-peaked gaff, tanbark sails, and traditional reefpoints clearly reflect the influence of late-19th and early-20th-century British working boats. Less obvious are the modern rigging details that allow one person to rig, launch, and set sail within 30 minutes.

The mainsail has two rows of reefpoints, and with the roller-furling jib there is a great deal of scope for shortening sail as the need arises. Additionally, the gaff-rigged mainsail can be scandalized: by lowering the peak, the sail is almost entirely depowered, and while this is not a good long-term solution for coping with heavy weather, it is a handy trick if you need to reduce sail area quickly and temporarily. A vang delivers control to the boom.

Being designed for inland waterways, the Cygnet 20 does have (some) limitations (well, the only one that comes to mind is that I would not be keen to take it to sea, out of sight of land), but that does not preclude sailing in and around bays, coastal islands, and major rivers that open to the ocean. The versatility of the boat for inland sailing is hard to beat. The Cygnet can be fitted for rowing, complete with sliding seat on tracks set into the parallel cockpit benches, and carbon-fiber oars. When combined with the low height of the rig—just 19′ above the cabintop—and the ability to quickly lower the whole rig even when on the water, this rowing option allows the Cygnet 20 to explore many less accessible rivers and streams, even those crossed by fixed bridges.

I continue to enjoy the boat whatever the season, conditions, or locality, whether I’m cruising with my wife and friends, or just out for an enjoyable daysail on my own. At time of writing, I have booked the next sailing trip inter-state to Tasmania, taking full advantage of having a trailer-sailer that can be ferried overnight (approximately 245 nautical miles). Once in Tasmania, I will be faced with the difficult decision of choosing the first sailing destination from my wish list of about 50 lakes, rivers, bays, and coastal islands.

The Cygnet’s forgiving and well-mannered setup allows a novice sailor to rapidly acquire the necessary skills to enjoy the boat, and there’s more than enough to keep an experienced sailor busy; whether they’re pushing the boat in racing or enjoying some extended overnight cruising. And, for the avid gunkholer, the Cygnet 20 would be hard to pass up.

Jan Stephen Kent is the eldest of three children of Polish migrants who arrived in Australia in the early 1950s. Born and raised in Hobart, Tasmania, his love for the ocean came when he began surfing when he was 14 and has remained with him. He has surfed Peru, Portugal, South Africa, and most of Australia. He has five adult children and three grandchildren. He and his wife have traveled to Peru, Chile, Argentina, southern Africa countries, most of Europe and parts of Asia, and have sailed off Croatia and Sardinia. Set to retire late in 2023, he is still surfing, and messing around in boats has become his passion.

Cygnet Particulars

LOA/19′2-1⁄2″

LWL/17′8-1⁄2″

Beam/7′3-3⁄4″

Draft, centerboard up/ 1′1-1⁄2″

Draft, centerboard down/5′1-3⁄4″

Displacement (loaded)/2,756 lbs

Towing weight (not including trailer)/ 1,764 lbs

Jib/77 sq.ft

Mainsail/176.5 sq.ft

Fuel tank/3 gallons (US)

Fresh-water tank/5 gallons (US)

Required engine size/4hp

The Cygnet 20 is manufactured by Bluewater Cruising Yachts in Cardiff, New South Wales, Australia. The listed price is $72,600 AUS plus GST.

Is there a boat you’d like to know more about? Have you built one that you think Small Boats readers would enjoy? Please email us!

Sinne 610 Expedition Boat

Anthony Shaw

For long-distance rowing trips on Finland’s many lakes, Jouko Koskinen had in mind a lightweight boat that would row very well but could also be fitted with bicycle wheels for portages and equipped for camp-cruising.

In their land of many thousand lakes, Finns and watercraft have developed hand-in-hand since the beginning of modern times. In the heart of the lake district 120 miles northeast of Helsinki is the country’s largest single collection of rock paintings from prehistory, about half of which seem to feature boats. Puuneveniste’s Sinne 610 Expedition is the latest of light multi-chined craft developed for this same rowing heartland, which also witnesses an annual gathering— the 36-mile marathon in the lakes around the town of Sulkava—in which many thousands of rowers compete in wooden boats.

Anthony Shaw

With a fitted tent and even a table in the cockpit, the boat has comforts of home.

Jouko Koskinen has lived most of his working life in Finland’s metropolitan capital, Helsinki, but he has spent time every summer back in his wife’s childhood lakeside haunts just 25 miles away from those rock paintings. Ever since he took a white-water holiday in Lapland in his teens, Koskinen had dreamed of building a craft that could combine overnight camping with his requirements for efficient travel by water under oars. A hectic professional life forced him to postpone his plans until he met an innovative wooden boat builder, Ruud Van Veelen, at the annual Helsinki Boat Show in 2011. The result of their collaboration is a lightweight dory 6 meters long [about 199] whose dimensions and fittings accommodate a standard three-arch, double-skin, two-person tent (see related article, page 10). The boat is capable of beaching fully laden with all the gear required for a lengthy expedition.

Anthony Shaw

A simple bracket matching the same fitting used for wheels turns the boat into a stable camping platform. A simple bracket matching the same fitting used for wheels turns the boat into a stable camping platform.

Anthony Shaw

Straps on the outside of the hull receive tent poles.

The experience of portaging a local logging dory on that Lapland journey prompted Koskinen to find a solution to the challenge of landing a laden craft and portaging it potentially singlehandedly around any shore with a reasonably gentle slope. The result is a design incorporating two specially sourced 36 wheels, built onto dry bearing hubs and fitted with spring-release axles that can be attached to either side of the boat while it is still afloat. The first-generation wheels buckled under the heavy load, but he replaced them with wheels that have rims 11⁄4 wide and support a heavy-duty tire, all procured from Unicycle in the United Kingdom. The portage solution also eliminated the frequent challenge of locating a suitable flat, rock-free surface for pitching a tent on land. The terrain in eastern Finland consists largely of granite bedrock, but with a couple of strategically located supporting blocks under the hull, the Sinne makes a level sleeping platform, and the tent can be secured by passing straps under the hull.

Anthony Shaw

The owner favors camp-cruising, but found that level ground was often hard to find. His solution was blocking, at the ends and supported by side braces, to make the boat a level sleeping platform.

From the beginning, the Sinne 610 was intended to be very different from the dedicated lightweight pulling boats that Van Veelen has been building in Sulkava for the past seven years. This model shuns his usual principles of minimal weight and maximum racing speed for the benefits favorable for a touring craft: ample storage space, flexibility in handling and usage, and adaptability to varied requirements. Van Veelen set out to fulfill the specifications of his particularly demanding customer, who had just these requirements in mind, as well as a scale model in hand. The name of the design reflects its use: the Finnish word “sinne” is difficult to translate to English, but perhaps “thither” is a good approximation.

Anthony Shaw

Designer Ruud Van Veelen, at the forward oars, has specialized in lightweight racing rowboats, but the Sinne 610 client had specific, non-racing objectives in mind. Solo rowing from the after thwart requires weight forward, typically provided by the camping outfit.

Sinne’s construction, however, is based on the same principles as Van Veelen’s other craft, using 6mm, five-ply marine okoume in plywood-epoxy construction, which eliminates any need for longitudinal stringers at the four chines. The finish consists of multiple layers of two-part varnish. The main differences between the expedition boat and the racing boats are the presence of pine framing and the reinforced decking, which the Sinne needs to offer watertight stowage and accommodate copious gear. The modest transom is also reinforced to take a small outboard, while the rest of the craft resembles quite closely above and below the water the single and double skiffs of about the same length that Van Veelen has been building for marathon rowers. (He also builds 40, 14-oared wooden “churchboats” along the same principles and for the same course, but that is another story.)

Anthony Shaw

Finnish rowing often has two rowers facing each other, with the forward rower pulling, the after rower
pushing.

Koskinen has used his new boat for the past two summers, traveling from his idyllic lakeside summer base. He has also transported the craft by car, initially on the roof but now on an aluminum trailer. In addition to using sturdier wheel rims, he has introduced some minor adaptations of his own. For a camper generally more accustomed to well-spread urban dining tables than billy-cans on his knees, Koskinen designed an ample dining table for two to fit between the gunwales at the aft end of the cockpit. Positioned inside the tent, the sitting area gives the crew a thoroughly protected place to enjoy the camp cuisine. The dining table stows on the central deck between the thwarts, along with the wheels and any other bulky gear. In addition to watertight compartments amidships and a small one aft, the cockpit has modest side lockers forward and aft.

Anthony Shaw

Despite its shallow draft, the boat has proven reasonably stable.

Rowing Characteristics

With such a lightweight boat, trim is highly subject to the weight distribution of the crew and the equipment. A single rower positioned at the aft thwart requires counterbalancing forward. Still, the boat is responsive and easily maneuverable under oars. Koskinen has made three lengthy journeys under both power and oars. Surprisingly, he advocates the pleasure of rowing by facing forward and pushing on the oars, not only as a variation for posture but also for the unmitigated pleasure of viewing one’s intended course. For a two-person crew, this is also an option for the aft oarsman, who can row facing forward while his counterpart at the forward thwart faces aft and pulls the oars in the usual manner. This resembles the setup used on Finland’s most traditional two-man rowboat, the “shift-rower,” in which the stern oarsman actually uses a long paddle and alternates places with the bow man at the oars at regular intervals. In the more typical, paired setup, the Sinne 610 can easily reach 4 knots [8 km per hour], making a day’s target of 50 to 60 kilometers [about 30 to 40 miles] quite achievable. The 7 separation between the two rowers also makes clashing blades unlikely, and two inexperienced rowers can more easily coordinate their efforts, rendering the Sinne a suitable choice for novice rowers as well.

The downside of a lightweight craft is its performance in heavy weather. The Sinne 610 is designed for inland waterways, with an amidships freeboard of only about 35cm [nearly 14]. There is minimal sheer, making the bow rather exposed, and in the event of shipping water there is no pumping system, so a bailer needs to be part of the gear. That said, the very nature of a lightweight boat is minimal draft. Unladen but for a crew weighing a total of 160 kg [353 lbs], the boat’s draft was less than 3, and fully laden with an additional 150 kg of gear [330 lbs], it is still well under 4.

Anthony Shaw

Van Veelen developed unique oarlocks for Finnish racing requirements, which in the tradition of tholepins state that oarlocks must be at the gunwales and the oars cannot be feathered. For the touring boat, these oarlocks permit the rower to let go of an oar without fear of losing it overboard.

An intriguing feature of all of Van Veelen’s boats is the Sarana oarlock, which he developed to improve blade control while still maintaining the non-feathering characteristic typical of all Finnish rowing boats. Traditionally, a short steel tholepin is fixed vertically on top of the gunwale and a nylon hoop attached to the oar simply slips over the pin. Although in Van Veelen’s system the oar blade can’t rest flat on the water, the oarlock has the advantage of locking the oar in place (with a hairpin-style cotter pin), so the rower can never lose an oar overboard. On long-distance trips, the rower can relieve his tired wrists by loosening the grip on the oar on the return stroke. Van Veelen’s adaptation also makes shipping the oars easier, as well as making for a much cleaner gunwale.

Supplied with four lightweight oars, the only additional pieces of equipment required are a couple of paddles for maneuvering in close quarters. With a waterline shape reminiscent of a broad-beamed Viking cargo craft, Sinne proved surprisingly stable with two 6 crew standing amidships on her deck. And when they faced each other at the oars in this characteristic Finnish setup, there was no avoiding a pulling contest, which only prompted speculation of which would fail first—the slender gunwale, the folding oarlock pin, some feature of the oar, or the rowers’ backs. So far, this issue is unresolved. The variety of rowing positions (the oars have two nylon sheaths for the pins to suit the differing alternatives for the rowers) and the deft design make this more than just a fun boat to row. In fact, with the bow man rowing aback and the stern man pulling on his oars, Sinne easily achieved 8km/hr [about 5 mph] going astern. Versatility makes her an attractive alternative for a serious adventurer.


Finished boats (but not plans) are available through Ruud Van Veelen, (English version available). An authorized builder of Van Veelen boats in the United States is Walter Baron

Sinne 610 Expedition Particulars:

LOA 6.1 m (20′)
Beam 1.59 m (5′ 2″)
Depth 69 cm (2′ 3″)
Draft (equipped) 139 mm (5″)
Weight (equipped) 90 kg (198 lbs)

The Simmons Sea Skiff

Schuyler Horton

The Simmons Sea Skiff was first developed as a beach-launched, oar-powered fishing boat for coastal North Carolina, and it eventually evolved into an outboard-powered range of sizes, from 18’ to 22’. The 18-footer above was built by its owner, for family fishing excursions on and near Narragansett Bay.

The Simmons Sea Skiff is the direct result of a North Carolina commercial fisherman’s need for a seaworthy skiff that would allow him to launch from the beach into the Atlantic surf, row through the waves, and fish with a seine before returning safely through the breakers. That first boat, built in 1946 by Tom Simmons, was a success, and eventually Simmons was asked to build larger, outboard-powered versions. Today, Simmons Sea Skiffs can be built in 18, 20, and 22‘ versions.

My introduction to the Simmons Sea Skiff was through a friend and neighbor, Schuyler Horton, who is fanatical about fishing. He goes everywhere with a concealed rod and tackle on the chance that a few spare minutes and a body of water come his way. Having fished every possible inch of coastline in Newport, Rhode Island, from shore, he was determined to get out on the water with his two young sons and introduce them to his passion for fishing. Without any prior boatbuilding experience, but armed with books and plans from The WoodenBoat Store, he built a Tom Hill–designed ultralight and then a Marc Pettingill Sweet Dream. Then he and his boys managed to chase down most of the bluefish that ventured into Newport Harbor. But he was still frustrated knowing that all of the fishermen in their Makos and Grady Whites fishing the rocks and reefs off Brenton Point had an advantage just beyond his reach. He needed to get out there. So he decided to build yet another, this time larger, boat.

He happened upon Ellis Rowe at the 2005 Wooden­Boat Show in Newport. Rowe was displaying a new Simmons Sea Skiff 18 he had built, and Schuyler was immediately, well, hooked. The Simmons Sea Skiff is exactly what he wanted—something that can handle the chop off Brenton Point, especially when the sou’wester pipes up in the afternoon, and can be easily trailered. When not in use, it fits in his garage, and, most important, it’s substantial and safe enough to take kids out to the reef.

Tom Simmons’s first boat was inspired in part by a New England dory that had a very high bow. The fisher­man who commissioned her also wanted a high transom to keep waves out as he surfed back onto the beach. The current plans, an excellent set drawn by the late David W. Carnell, a Cape Fear Museum volunteer who measured an original boat, retain those features. They boast jaunty and traditional lines that attract attention and flattering comments. The outboard motor is housed in a well that sits inboard, allowing the transom to remain higher than any comparably sized outboard-powered boat and serving to keep out breaking waves. A cutout in the transom allows the motor to be tilted out of the water, giving very handy access to the propeller in case a line or net becomes fouled. The bottoms all feature a slight, modified V-shape for a smoother ride.

Without an engine, the 18-footer weighs an impressively light 350 lbs. This presents a number of advantages: Fully loaded, with engine, it can be easily trailered behind most small cars; it can be beached and relaunched with confidence; and with a relatively narrow beam of about 5½ and draft of mere inches, it can even be rowed into tricky rock-strewn areas in pursuit of elusive fish with the engine up.

Schuyler Horton

Easy trailering and beachability, combined with reasonable seakeeping qualities, are the hallmarks of the 18’ Simmons Sea Skiff. Owners report that the boats become uncomfortable in seas over 2’, while the larger hulls can handle worse conditions.

The construction of the Simmons Sea Skiff is straightforward and manageable for an amateur with some experience. One must keep in mind, however, that a Simmons Sea Skiff is a serious commitment of materials and time; it’s a whole different level of boatbuilding from plywood prams and kayaks. Good guidance is available, though. Before his untimely death a few years ago, Ellis Rowe published a series of articles in WoodenBoat magazine Nos. 186, 187, and 188 on the construction of an 18-footer.

Originally the boats were built of juniper (Atlantic white cedar) on mahogany, but as early as the 1950s Simmons began planking them in plywood. Building them in plywood today requires first erecting a strongback on which the boat will be built, making up a backbone consisting of stem (laminated or sawn), keel, floor timbers, transom, and motor well, as well as installing chines, planking the bottom and topsides, and then fiberglassing the bottom and motorwell. The plank laps are glued together and also fastened with copper rivets. The substantial frames are sawn from solid lumber, making a very robust hull.

As with most wooden boats, the fitout and finish are up to the owner. One thing that’s important to consider before the construction is what type of engine will be used, for its dimensions will determine how big the engine well and transom cutout need to be for the power plant to turn and tilt sufficiently. The number of configurations possible for the deck and interior layout are endless, and include a decked-over bow creating a storage compartment, a casting platform forward, an open boat with thwarts, center console, side console, and tiller steering.

Schuyler Horton

Early Sea Skiffs were built of solid juniper on oak. Gluedlap plywood, as we see here, is also a good option.

Out on the water, the Simmons Sea Skiff does what she was designed to do, proudly charging into the slop upwind, fending it off downwind, delivering her crew to the fish. Because of her size, shape, and lightweight hull, she’s initially tender. Balance is always a consideration. Crew and gear weight must be distributed evenly to keep her level. It’s even possible to steer her left and right by simply moving one’s weight slightly from port to starboard. She has good capacity for gear and, as noted, the owner can decide how to best create custom storage solutions. At moderate speeds, winds, and sea states, she tracks well and handles chop from any direction. The lapstrake construction and considerable flare help to keep the spray down. When docking, launching, or hauling, her proud, high bow and relatively light weight can conspire against you and tend to get blown around—though this is more of a problem in the larger boats.

I didn’t handle Schuyler’s boat in rough conditions, but he tells me that when the seas are more than 3, he’s reminded quickly that he’s in a small boat. She gets wet and tossed around a bit. In conditions below that, she’s so well behaved that it’s possible to be deluded into a false sense of security. He doesn’t head outside of Narragansett Bay if it’s expected to blow more than 20—which is fine for him because there are plenty of places to fish within the bay.

Schuyler’s observations were reinforced by another friend, Mike Lavecchia, who also has an 18-footer out of York, Maine. He uses her mostly for exploring with friends and just getting out on the water, for which she’s perfect. He has taken her offshore down to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and back, and when he’s been caught out in winds over 25 knots, or seas in the 2–3‘ range, he too gets uncomfortable. He also reported, to little surprise, that when she’s loaded with five or six adults she struggles to plane. With 25 hp, the 18 will do about 20 knots with two people aboard. As for fuel consumption, both Schuyler and Mike described it to me in months, each saying they fill up their 3-gallon tanks once or twice a month during the boating season.

The 20- and 22-footers have better seakeeping abilities than the 18s. The labor to build the larger boats hardly differs from the smaller ones, but there is a cost difference in materials. Laying aside that cost, the trade-off comes down to this: Are you willing to sacrifice garage storage, and towing with the Subaru wagon, to be able to venture out in 4–6 seas?

The Simmons Sea Skiff is popular now, and although it is unknown how many have been built, Tom Simmons turned out an estimated 1,000 or more between 1946 and 1972. And the Cape Fear Museum reports having sold over 2,000 plans. It is safe to say there are plenty out there, and it seems an excellent choice for the home builder—for many reasons, including all of the support available from fellow builders. A few minutes on the Internet will also reveal numerous threads on the WoodenBoat Forum, as well as a website about the boats, an owners’ club, and countless photos.

When Schuyler Horton wanted to get out to the prime fishing grounds and didn’t have $40,000 to $50,000 to buy a new Grady White or Mako, he found a very economical alternative. He spent $11,000, and working mostly weekends, got out on the water 18 months later with his boys on a brand-new boat. At the time, the boys were six and nine years old. Today, they’re 12 and 15, and have been growing up learning about fishing and boat construction on a fine, sea­worthy, home-built small boat.


For information and to order plans, contact Cape Fear Museum.

Cape Fear Museum

T.N. Simmons took much inspiration from the hulk of an old beach-launched dory when he developed the lines of his eponymous Sea Skiff. The 18-footer, whose lines are shown here, measures 11″ less than its nominal length. It has an optimal horsepower range of 25–40.
The flaring sides give it a high load-carrying capacity, while the scantlings yield a relatively
lightweight hull.

Cape Fear Museum

Particulars:
LOA 17’1″
Beam 5’7″
Draft (motor up) 5″
Weight (empty) 300 lbs
Power 25-30 hp

MUSTELID – Episode 1

Welcome to the MUSTELID Venture.

Dave and Anke are a couple of sailors in the Southeast Alaskan archipelago. They live aboard and sail self-built vessels, engine free, for extended periods (up to years at a time) in the remote stretches between towns, living substantially on foraged food, fuel, and materials.

“But we’re getting older,” says Dave. “We envision a more easily handled vessel to complement our more demanding sailing home, to keep us on the water longer.“ So, starting from scratch, they invite you to join them, in this video series, to observe the whole process of conceiving and building a new boat, from identifying needs and purposes, through brainstorming and design, construction and launch, outfit, rig and sea trials—and, eventually, a first voyage.

In this, the first installment, they introduce us to who they are, how they live, and what they propose in a boat.

In this series, Parts 1 – 6 will focus on the boat, MUSTELID. In Parts 7 – 15, Dave and Anke row and sail their way around Chichagof Island—and then some.

Lit’l Petrel

Nick Owens

The diminutive pram, less than 9’ long, has remarkable carrying capacity. A centerline seat allows the person rowing to choose from two stations, depending on the boat’s fore-and-aft trim.

A thing is right,” Aldo Leopold writes in A Sand County Almanac, “when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.” On my bookshelf, Leopold shares space with worn volumes of those other writers more familiar to the boating community, among them L. Francis Herreshoff, Pete Culler, and John Gardner. Small boats do, in fact, represent a “biotic community” of sorts, and Sam Devlin’s Lit’l Petrel design is, to use Leopold’s evaluation, “right.”

Three years ago, my son acquired a magnificent 1959 William Tripp 32 sloop, FREYA. Mahogany-planked over oak frames, she has beautiful lines and vast amounts of professionally maintained varnish. Promising him an appropriate tender as a “boat-warming” present, I began my search for a dinghy worthy of such a companion.

I had specific characteristics in mind: The boat had to have the capacity to carry three passengers safely through the choppy seas of the home mooring field, it had to have good manners while being towed, it had to be easy to enter and exit both on shore and alongside FREYA, it had to have a clean and easy-to-maintain interior, and it must have good performance under oars.

Tom Jackson

Vintage Wilcox-Crittenden oarlocks retract with a minimum of fumbling, keeping the horns from damaging the topsides as the dinghy comes alongside and holding the oarlock in easy reach when needed.

Because its transom bow offers the best carrying capacity for its length, a pram is a logical choice for a tender and has the further benefit of permitting “dry feet” exits over the bow. Additionally, a novel fore-and-aft rower’s seat allows for improved trim with varying loads. Sufficient beam, a deep-V cross-sectional shape, substantial rocker, and a generous skeg provide the good manners needed not only for boarding but also for being towed. The latter characteristic applies only if the pram is appropriately positioned behind the towing craft. These features also assure that a craft will row in a straight line when desired without weathercocking when the breeze is on the beam, but at the same time ample rocker will allow her to turn 360 degrees within her own length. Finally, modern construction methods assure a clean, easily maintained interior.

When I saw Sam Devlin’s Lit’l Petrel among the new designs on the Devlin Designing Boat Builders website, I thought I had found a winner. Devlin’s designs can be instantly downloaded, gratifying the impulse that most of us have to see more right away. After more thorough review, all seemed right, and the decision was final.

Living on the coast of Maine, quality boatbuilding materials are readily obtained. Before long, I had the 6mm okoume plywood scarfed and the frames and planking panels cut. The stitch-and-glue construction method proceeded quickly, and in short order the hull was shaped and the finishwork underway. Knowing the hard life an even well-cared-for dinghy has on our rocky shores and crowded dinghy floats, I added an additional 6-oz layer of fiberglass cloth to the exterior. With the addition of the gunwales, inwales, and knees, the little boat stiffened up nicely.

Tom Jackson

The oarlock sets quickly.

Flotation is provided beneath the stern seat. I installed polyester foam gunwale guards around the entire perimeter to shield her against damage from inevitable contact with docks and other dinghies and also to protect FREYA’s beautiful topsides. I also opted for the traditional towing ring, mounted on the bow transom with a substantial eye strap and supported by a robust bronze backing plate. For her two rowing positions, four old-fashioned and now hard-to-find Wilcox-Crittenden Davis-style bronze oarlocks completed the job.

Discussing a rowing boat without discussing the means of propulsion would be like describing a power­boat without ever mentioning the engine. A proper pair of oars can make all the difference. Off-the-shelf oars tend to be too heavy, poorly balanced, and too stiff, lacking any “life.” Fortunately, light and clear spruce is abundant and inexpensive in Maine. Following plans in Culler’s Boats, Oars, and Rowing, I made a nice pair of well-balanced 71⁄2 oars, a pleasurable and easy conclusion to the project. Leathered and well tallowed, they, too, have exceeded expectations, feathering effortlessly and easily propelling CELIA B gracefully about the anchorage, and—I can’t help but also add—in a far greater style than the proliferating inflatable abominations with aluminum oar shafts and plastic blades.

Tom Jackson

A substantial bronze ring very stoutly set low in the bow transom assures that the tender tows well and securely.

CELIA B’s sea trials began immediately after her launching in Casco Bay and a two-day trip to Rockport, Maine. She settled off the stern as we prepared to drop the mooring, and her motion astern was smooth and deliberate, lacking any of the sudden accelerations and direction changes induced by a change in the tension of the painter. Leaving Casco Bay, we encountered the predictably unpredictable seas off the mouth of the ebbing Kennebec River. Confused seas, wind and tide in conflict with one another, fog, rain, and gusts to 25 knots gave the little boat a less-than-gentle introduction to her life’s work. With her tow line lengthened to about 30, she rode just behind the second stern wave. There, she was as well-behaved as could be, with no sudden high-speed surfing runs or attempts to sneak her bow under FREYA’s transom.

As we entered New Harbor on the Pemaquid peninsula and picked up an unused lobsterman’s mooring, I pulled her near to bail the rainwater out. At one point I dipped my finger in the bilgewater to taste for any salt suggesting she may have taken seas aboard. Fresh as a bottle of Poland Spring! The lobstermen from whom we sought permission to use the mooring expressed his admiration, adding a final exclamation point to CELIA B’s first day at sea, for whether the compliment is given for a proud boat-handling moment or for the boat herself, when it is delivered by men who earn their livelihood aboard boats, it has a sweeter ring.

Tom Jackson

The author wanted his son’s 32’ yacht to have a complementary tender, something more distinctive than the ubiquitous inflatables. CELIA B serves the role well.

From the tightly packed dinghy docks of Northeast Harbor to the sandy South Beach of Roque Island, CELIA B transported her crew in both style and comfort. Entering a dinghy from the cockpit always presents challenges, as the boat invariably seems to want to depart for shore before the passengers are properly installed, creating much flailing about and occasional amusement for observers. However, CELIA B’s wide, deep-V bilge panels, hard chine, and ample skeg made for a remarkably stable entry, with secure footing and no premature departure. As she came ashore or alongside a dock, the dinghy’s transom bow afforded a close approach, allowing passengers to disembark over the bow with dry feet.

Among all CELIA B’s assets, her most endearing to me was her performance in rowing. I have built numerous performance fixed-seat pulling boats, including Gardner peapods, a Chamberlain gunning dory, and most recently a 17 double-ended Herreshoff rowing boat. However, in her own short way, the Lit’l Petrel is a delight to row. She tolerates a wide range of loading and allows the oarsman to adjust with two rowing positions. Her beam gives a tolerance to less-than-perfect positioning side to side, minimizing any list. The deep V and generous skeg allow her to track well and minimize any rounding up into the breeze. She will turn in her own length. Finally, coupled with a proper set of oars she moves along effortlessly at hull speed and far more gracefully than her inflated brethren.

If imitation is indeed the best form of flattery, then let it be known that I’m already planning a Lit’l Petrel to serve as my tender, too.


Lit’l Petrel 9 Dinghy Plans and finished boats are available from Devlin Designing Boat Builders.

Devlin Designing Boat Builders

Sam Devlin designed a simple V-bottomed pram with ample rocker to serve as a pragmatic and sensible yacht tender. The pram bow assures maximum carrying capacity and allows passengers to step ashore with dry feet.
Particulars:
LOA: 8′ 10 1/4″
Beam: 4′ 2 3/8″
Draft(cb up): 5″
Weight: 63 lbs
Load capacity: 340 lbs

Petrel Play SG

I grew up as a whitewater paddler, and some years ago paddled a whitewater kayak to a little island in the Baltic Sea. The boat was quite capable in rough water with high waves, but far from ideal for paddling long distances while carrying a load of camp-cruising supplies. After that trip I knew I needed a different kayak for cruising.

It took some years to take that step, but just as I was beginning to build boats with plywood and epoxy, we were locked down by COVID-19 and I decided to use the time to build a pair of kayaks for my wife and myself. I wanted to have safe, light, maneuverable kayaks that were still fast and could carry enough gear for longer trips. They should be uncomplicated to use and store, and meet my wife’s beginner abilities as well as my own. Paddling should be fun in the tranquil lakes and rivers near our home, as well as on rough coastal waters.

Finding a design that met all these criteria seemed almost impossible, but then I read about the Petrel Play designed by Nick Schade of Guillemot Kayaks. It was described as “a compact kayak designed for exploring rivers, lakes, and harbors, and playing in races, rips and surf.” It was shorter and wider than a typical modern sea kayak, and while designed for playing in the surf, it was also well suited to making short coastal cruises.

The Petrel Play SG is the stitch-and-glue plywood version of Guillemot’s strip-planked Petrel Play. The plans I ordered for it included 11 printed drawings, 24″ × 36″, which included full-sized patterns for all the plywood parts as well as the four female molds for the hull and the four for the deck. The 198-page manual, produced by Chesapeake Light Craft, is well illustrated with drawings and color photos and provides step-by-step instructions.

Sebastian Schröder

The Petrel Play SG hull, with all its plywood panels stitched, is ready to have its seams epoxied. The cradles, seen here sitting atop the hull, will support it and help to maintain the kayak’s shape when it is flipped for the interior and deck construction.

The manual was easy to follow, and the plans showed how all the parts should be arranged to be cut from the sheets of 3mm and 4mm plywood. The very thorough instructions gave me the confidence that I’d be able to complete two Petrel Plays as my first kayak building project. It took me four months to finish both boats. I built them simultaneously, doing each step twice, which seemed to be the most effective way.

The finished kayaks, with deck lines, seat, and foot braces, each weigh 38.6 lbs, which I find very easy to carry and to load on a car roof rack, especially when I compare them to the polyethylene kayaks I’m used to, which weigh almost twice as much.

The thigh braces are specified in the plans as an option. They are flanges incorporated in the base of the cockpit coaming. I added minicell-foam pads shaped to fit me, providing very good control of the boat. On my 500-yard solo walk to the nearby lake the edges of the thigh-brace flanges do not rest on my shoulder and don’t cause me any discomfort; I change shoulders only one time on the way.

Once the Petrel Play is on the water, the cockpit opening is long enough for me to get into the seat first and then swing my legs on board. I am tall, almost 6′3″, and my feet are size 11-1⁄2, but there is plenty of room nonetheless beneath the foredeck for my feet, even when I’m wearing my kayaking shoes.

Sebastian Schröder

The hatch parts for both kayaks await assembly. At top are the black injection-molded coaming rings for the hatch covers—oval for the sterndeck, round for the foredeck. In the foreground are the plywood frames for the hatch recesses. Built from the plans and cut by hand, the puzzle joints seen here are not quite as tight as would be found in the machine-cut kit pieces.

The complete kit from Chesapeake Light Craft includes foot braces, a minicell seat, and a back band. I was working from plans, so I purchased Lettmann foot braces, and a back band. I custom-carved a comfortable, lightweight, and warm seat from a block of minicell foam.

The hip braces consist of a pair of plywood pieces filleted and ’glassed under the deck of the boat. Because they are not secured to the bottom, they are slightly flexible to allow movement, which is helpful for some rolling maneuvers.

The instruction manual now includes 41 pages on a retractable skeg. Those pages weren’t included in the plans I had but were available separately. Since I would have to deal with German customs—again—and wait for weeks for the transatlantic shipment of the plans, I browsed the web for solutions. It is possible to buy a ready-made skeg, build your own, or go without and thus gain more room in the compartment. I had previously made simple daggerboards for small sailing boats and so decided to forgo the skeg but create a centerboard slot instead. This would allow me to use a small daggerboard and would avoid the need to build a mechanical wooden wonder. The plans suggest offsetting the skeg from the centerline to keep sand and pebbles out of the slot, which I found a brilliant idea, and followed this for my daggerboard slot.

Making the recesses for the hatches was a challenge. Bending the tight curves with the 3mm plywood parts to their final three-dimensional shape took several tries and resulted in a few cracked pieces, but I did finally succeed. For the hatches themselves, I used standard hatch coaming rings with rubber lids. To glue the ABS hatch ring to the plywood deck, the construction manual suggests 3M’s 5200 and WEST System’s G-Flex.

Sebastian Schröder

Each of the two finished Petrel Play SGs weighs just under 39 lbs. The author built the boats simultaneously and, for the most part, followed the plans. His biggest departure was in replacing the retractable skegs with daggerboards—the slightly offset slots can be seen in the sterndecks.

The Petrel Play SG has two cargo compartments: a large one aft and a smaller one in the bow, where the tight opening limits the size of gear that can fit. Capacity in the aft compartment is limited by the lower deck, but despite these restrictions, the kayak offers more space than any backpack you could imagine. I felt comfortable packing for a three- to four-day trip, but for several weeks you would have to use deck space and dry bags for additional luggage.

The Petrel Play SG has a design displacement of 231 lbs, and the Chesapeake Light Craft webpage for the kayak lists the suitable paddler weight at between 100 and 220 lbs. I weigh 198 lbs and when on board, I have 2″ to 3″ of freeboard. For larger kayakers up to 350 lbs, there is the 16′ Petrel Play SGL.

When my wife, who is unfamiliar with kayaks, tried her boat for the first time, she appreciated the kayak’s good initial stability: “You finally built a boat that feels safe!” Even when she is leaning to one side, the secondary stability keeps her feeling comfortable. The good stability makes it possible for me to do chart work on a choppy sea with my hands off the paddle.

My wife also likes the Petrel Play’s good tracking: it goes where she points it. Though it excels at running straight, the kayak has excellent maneuverability. The hull’s rocker allows quick turns and even a slight edging initiates them.

Christophe Busse

When paddled at speed the Petrel Play’s bow lifts slightly, which the author says is beneficial in surf and only mildly detrimental when sprinting against longer racing kayaks.

With its 13′6″ waterline—shorter than that of most cruising sea kayaks—the Petrel Play SG has a lower top-end speed; its theoretical hull speed is 4.9 knots. However, I train with kayakers who have longer kayaks and, overall, the Petrel Play isn’t appreciably slower. Only when sprinting do I feel the bow rise a little and the stern go down as the longer boats pull ahead.

I like to take my Petrel Play SG out when it is really blowing to enjoy the kayak’s maneuverability and speedy surfing in the waves. At speed, the lift created at the bow is useful for playing in the surf—once I catch a wave the bow stays high, and I can feel my speed increase dramatically. When I paddle into the waves, the recessed hatches allow water to flow over the bow without creating spray and the ride is dry. When paddling into the wind, I have not needed to use the daggerboard. Even in 30 to 35 knots of wind, the Petrel Play was well balanced and didn’t weathercock to a degree that made me feel I would have to use a skeg to hold a course. For my wife, the skeg is helpful since she is not as experienced.

The Petrel Play SG is well designed for rolling. The solid foot braces and big thigh braces, combined with the fit of the hip braces and the custom-made foam seat, create a very comfortable cockpit. I feel snugly and safely locked in without having my range of motion limited. The low aft deck and the recessed coaming allow for a strong layback. From standard rolls to hand roll, the Petrel Play SG comes up with ease.

Christophe Busse

Shorter than conventional sea kayaks, the Petrel Play SG is designed to be as well suited to paddling coastal surf as it is for exploring urban waterways.

On a calm warm summer day, I took my empty kayak close to a beach and practiced wet exits and all types of re-entries. After a capsize, I can disengage from the thigh braces, and the cockpit opening is long enough for me to fall out effortlessly. Lifting the bow while the kayak is inverted gets the water out of the cockpit and then, once it is right-side up, it is easy to climb aboard over the low aft deck. A cowboy re-entry—straddling the stern and re-entering the cockpit feet first—works well. Of course, the boat is a little shaky before I drop into the seat, but the beam, slightly greater than that of a sea kayak, makes almost everything workable. A re-entry and roll—scooting into the cockpit while upside-down underwater before rolling up—is not one of my preferred emergency self-rescues, but it is fun and a good way to confirm that water in the boat’s cockpit does not prevent it from rolling back upright. The swamped cockpit does make the righted kayak rather tippy, and while pumping out the water it was necessary to take some bracing strokes to maintain stability. After trying all my rolling and recovery techniques, I was impressed by the Petrel Play SG.

I would enthusiastically recommend the Petrel Play SG to paddlers looking for a short, light, and maneuverable coastal kayak. It is as perfectly suited to two hours of hard exercise and training as it is to three- or four-day trips. I smile whenever there’s a stiff breeze blowing and I can look forward to getting out in my Petrel Play SG to surf a wave, snap through a turn, and drive upwind for another turn, another wave, another ride.

The first kayak Sebastian Schröder learned to paddle was a polyester slalom boat. It took him from canoe slalom to whitewater and canoe polo to finally paddle sea kayaks. Living close to Leipzig in the southeast of Germany, he frequently paddles the Neuseenland where old open-pit coal mines have been flooded to create new lakes. His work as a live illustrator in creativity workshops and conferences gives him the opportunity to follow his passion: building wooden boats in traditional Scandinavian style and sailing and kayaking the Baltic Sea. 

Petrel Play SG

[table]LOA/14′0″

Beam/23′

Weight/40 lbs

Max Payload/260 lbs

Paddler Weight/100–220 lbs

Cockpit size/31″ × 16″

Knee Height/12″

Max Shoe Size/12-1⁄2 U.S. Mens

[/table]

Plans for the Petrel Play SG—including nine 24″ × 36″ drawing pages plus templates for the cockpit and coaming recess parts and building notes—are available from Guillemot Kayaks, priced $129. Also available is the recommended manual: Building Strip Planked Boats, priced $22.95.

Is there a boat you’d like to know more about? Have you built one that you think other Small Boats readers would enjoy? Please email us!

MUSTELID

I woke to the splashing of salmon leaping around MUSTELID, our 24′ by 5′ 4″ home-built, plywood camp-cruiser. Anke slept alongside me, her long hair a sleepy bronze-and-silver tangle. Two layers of sleeping bag, spread wide against the early-morning chill, rose and fell with every breath. Today, we faced a difficult test with a tide to catch. I kissed her awake. I sat up and looked around through the expansive, plexiglass windows flanking the narrow, 4′ × 8′ cabin. Salmon were launching themselves in mercurial arcs, and low clouds, dense with charcoal underbellies, obscured the dark upward slopes of Kruzof Island on either side. The more-often-than-not fog of the last week had lifted slightly, at least within the bay.

David Reece

In light winds, we might row while sailing if we’re hurrying to catch a tide. Here, during sea trials, we sailed under the Ljungström foresail and mizzen. The driver, our aft sail to be stepped on the outside of the transom, was added later. The boards are deployed against guards and prevented from winging out to windward by line secured to the guard ends.

We had designed and built MUSTELID as a more easily driven adjunct to our larger, engineless liveaboard sailboat. As we have aged, sailing it has become more strenuous and we hope that MUSTELID will serve as voyager and forager, allowing us to continue spending our time on the water. In outfitting the boat we were guided by the Agile Approach of software development as adapted for boatbuilding by Jeremy Ulstad, a software developer and boatbuilder:

Make it cheap.
Make it fast.
Make it work.
Make it right.

MUSTELID is a platform for exploring our approach to living aboard, rowing, and sailing. Whenever possible, we employ found, used, or common materials. On this voyage and others, we sail for months or years in the wild. We favor rugged and repairable.

We had set out on this shakedown cruise from our home port of Tenakee Springs, Alaska, on the east side of Chichagof Island. We intended a lazy, meandering circumnavigation, clockwise and totaling about 450 nautical miles. We’d arrived in Kalinin Bay on the north end of Kruzof Island a week into the trip. Trees tinted blue-green by twilight leaned almost over us, their branches draped with long, trailing garlands of yellowish Spanish moss. Extending outward from the rocky, bladder-wracked beach, a ledge of smooth granite formed the nook of our anchorage. We’d caught one of those leaping salmon in the bay for last night’s dinner, working a lane break in the lemony green macrocystis seaweed, whose small, alternate flotation pods and corrugated fronds reminded us that we were now in outside waters.

Photographs by the authors except as noted

Looking aft: the cabin’s 4′ x 8′ floor has carpet laid over foam padding, making it very comfortable for sitting and kneeling. At left is our orange folding mattress. The two pillows hold our bedding. At the back, a 2′-deep alcove serves as our galley. The rocket stove in the middle sits under a smoke exhaust hood. The two storage totes, when pulled out, provide work surfaces. At right, through the windows, our dory tender is visible rafted alongside where it stays quiet.

MUSTELID was Bahamian-moored with two of her three anchors set opposite one another. They limited swing, keeping us off the shore but within the narrow protection of the outcrop. Kalinin Bay has better-protected anchorages farther in, but this spot would save us rowing a mile and a half. We’d need to conserve our energy for this day’s effort. Rousing ourselves, we “made the bed” and stuffed our sleeping bags into oversized pillowcases. These contain the bags loosely, to air them out and preserve loft, and make for great daytime lounging. We folded the double camping mattress along the starboard wall. Our only other “furniture” is the large toolbox that serves as an inside doorstep and the plastic stowage totes that can be pulled from our compact galley alcove to serve as a table and countertops. We kneel on knee-friendly, 1″-thick foam topped by carpet.

We use simple snap-latch dogs to secure the longitudinal bench seat’s storage-locker lids. We also use one for the aft locker hatch. These simple wood-and-paracord dogs were inspired by those used in fishery tote lids. Nylon paracord acts as a spring, angled inboard of a dog’s fulcrum. The dog cam-levers the paracord into tension to snap reliably in place.

Anke kindled the fire in the wood-burning rocket stove. A paperback book provides a compact stack of kindling papers, and while we shy at book-burning, this one—a thick bodice-ripper from a free table—will not be mourned. Lopped-off spruce limbs crackled cheerily in the bright flames flickering in our rocket stove’s gaping mouth. These insulated stoves generate enough heat to burn smoke, doubling the wood’s efficiency and protecting lungs. It had taken some noggin-scratching to design and build a hood from scrap that would provide a large cooking surface and lead the exhaust to the stovepipe. In pleasant weather the stove can easily be removed for cooking outside. We prepared a hearty meal fragrant with sweet yarrow, wasabi-like sea rocket, and the rich smell of poached salmon leftovers. Soon, the percolé of water boiling against teapot’s lid and scent of spruce-needle-steam announced hot tea. As we ate, we listened to the marine forecast: southerly winds at 15 knots over combined seas of 5′ to 7′. Lumpier than we’d like, but this wind was a gift that we had waited a long week for. A southerly is a favorable departure from the prevailing southwester, which blows at right angles to the northwest run of coastline; we weren’t confident that we could sail on a beam reach and stay clear of that lee shore in sloppy conditions. That leaves contrary northerly-quarter headwinds or a dangerous, offshore easterly. This was our shot.

The morning scene here looked very much like the niche we had tucked into at Kalinin Bay. The stowed mizzen amidships leaves a small patch of sail standing. This saves lashing the boom vertically and provides a spot for hanging our anchor light.

 

 

First, we must cross Salisbury Sound from Kalinin Bay to round Point Leo. Next, we’d have a run up a pernicious coast, then turn into more protected waters via the treacherously tight and rocky Piehle Passage. It was only 16 nautical miles, anchor to anchor, but challenging at every step. At the heart of this leg are 7 nautical miles off a mile-wide, shallow, foul, and breaking shoreline, open to a 1,000-mile fetch from the Gulf of Alaska. It is liberally peppered with rocks both salient and submerged. The latter are dangerous as they are poorly charted—the whole area is marked “breaking seas”—and might only make their presence known when they thrust a rare, extra heavy swell to toppling height. They’re hard to spot. Our strategy was to ride the last of the ebb tide out of Kalinin Bay and Salisbury Sound. Then the flood would lift us along the coast and carry us through Piehle Passage at the end of the run.

Roger Siebert

.

These were unfamiliar waters and MUSTELID was unproven. Despite 30-some years of sailing, we were new to small, open craft. And though we’ve often sailed open coastlines, we had always insisted on fallbacks. Navigating MUSTELID along this stretch unavoidably broke our standing rule.

We’d spent the previous night in quiet talk and restless sleep, gnawing at this first of only two exposed legs of our circumnavigation. For this one, we were sailing with confidence but considerable trepidation.

Before departing, we made a salad of leftovers: the last of the salmon, rice and lentils, handfuls of chopped wild greens, and berries. We’d spoon it cold throughout the day as needed.

We weighed anchors, hauling the cold, wet 1⁄2″ nylon rodes and even colder shots of 1⁄4″ chain, hand-over-hand. Seated at the aft station near MUSTELID’s waist, I pulled at my 9′ oars; Anke rowed with 8′ oars at her narrower, forward station. By now we were effortlessly synced to the same rhythm.

The kick-up rudder has a downhaul on the port side and swings on heavy strap hinges. The tiller is reversible and here is mounted facing aft. A bungee pulls it hard to port; the line on its starboard side leads to a whipstaff in the cockpit. The driver’s simple mast mount doesn’t pierce the deck and avoids the intrusion of water. Its outboard position allows the mast to be dropped easily. Forward of the mast is the rocket stove’s chimney cap, made from a stainless-steel dog food bowl. Rocket stoves create a strong draft, so a short stack works fine.

The whipstaff, our vertical tiller, controls the distant rudder from the cockpit. It is slotted at the rail and stands upright when the rudder is centered and is held by friction, leaving hands free for the oars. My central station and greater leverage make it my job to attend to course corrections: minor ones by oar, major via whipstaff.

With each stroke, we rolled on double-action sliding-seat prototypes we’d cobbled together from cast-off materials. The high-density polyethylene wheels had no bearings to corrode in the saltwater environment. Their wheels rolled smoothly on cleat-tracks along the longitudinal cockpit bench and locker lids.

On this cloud-enshrouded day the archipelago’s boreal rainforest was not arrayed so much in colors as in tones and shades. Subtle, layered gradients blended one into the next, as if in an old-fashioned, hand-tinted photograph. A light, morning drizzle cooled us and fogged our fleece jackets with pearlescent silvers and grays, mirroring the grumpy sky.

East and west, the steep sides of Kalinin Bay slid by, their slopes densely cloaked in the ubiquitous, climax canopy of somber hemlock and Sitka spruce. Inset from the water’s edge was a fringe of brighter, deciduous greens of red alder and rock maple. Along the water, mottled beaches of boulder, cobble, and gravel, strewn with iridescent seaweed and bone-drab driftwoods, were punctuated by dark outcrops of light-toned granitic and blue-black basaltic bedrock.

Here, at the beginning of our passage from Kalinin Bay to Khaz Head, the fog over Salisbury Sound has lifted. Set on the starboard bow, our anchor sprit makes deployment and retrieval of our main anchor easy while standing securely amidships. At left, on the port gunwale is the whipstaff for steering. The pivot bolt is tightened enough to provide friction to hold the rudder in a fixed position. We later put the whipstaff on the starboard side, a move made easy by our open-gunwale system. We are both right-handed and more comfortable steering on the starboard side.

We were fast approaching Kalinin’s opening. I owled around to peer forward and saw Point Leo across 5 miles of gently rolling water. Here, too, the fog had lifted; we would not be making this jump blind. Our GPS was aboard as backup, but we were relieved we wouldn’t need it.

As we cleared Kalinin’s mouth, our view opened wide across Salisbury Sound. Ahead, were Chichagof Island’s range of mountains, steep for all their modest height. To starboard were the islands and channels through which we’d come. Away to port, there was only liquid horizon, undulant with ocean swell.

Waves rose as high as our cabintop and their troughs spanned 100′ crest to crest, enough to encompass four MUSTELIDs laid end-to-end, but in the morning calm rowing was no harder despite the swell, and we slid along at the easy pace we knew we could maintain all day. We began to breathe more easily.

Rain came and went in turns, ranging from mist to bailable downpours. A quarter of the way across, a first frisson of wind cooled my left cheek, then stirred my hair. A light breeze picked up and up, easterly out of the sound. It was offshore, but we were committed now, and this was, for us, a rare beam reach.

Anke rowed steadily while I stood amidships to unfurl the mizzen sail. It had been wrapped close around the mast but for the small corner at its clew. We stow that bit standing, which saves lashing up its boom. As I unrolled the China-red sail, it flogged against the curdled gray clouds. I hauled the clew out to spread the sail and levered the whipstaff to bear away.

Our inexpensive masts and spars may not grow on trees, but they grow as trees. We look for shaded-out, standing, dead spruce of the right dimensions and taper, which are straight, tight-ringed, and rot-free. It can take a lengthy search to find the right ones, but it’s pleasant work.

The foresail is Ljungström-rigged with the addition of two light booms. The sail itself is identical to and exchangeable with the mizzen sail, but doubled the two sails are fixed to the mast along their luffs. For any point but a run, one sail laps the other like a closed book, and their sheets handle as one. Now, we opened the book for a large balanced sail, pulling from the bow.

A drawknife makes quick and easy work of barking and smoothing spruce trees for spars and looms. Knots are lopped flush with a hatchet and finished smooth with a four-way rasp. Rejects get cut for firewood.

Anke unfurled the twin foresails, trimmed both to port, and we steered back on course. Reaching a long diagonal into and across the swell, MUSTELID’s sampan bow shrugged spray aside and rose over the crests. We yawed some on this long slant, but smoothly and predictably.

Moving mounds of water heaped higher, even momentarily occluding the horizon. As the waves grew taller and steeper, white teeth began to show along the crests. The combers hurled themselves against the rocks in booming bursts of shattered water.

The transom-mounted sprit-boomed driver is controlled from the cockpit by a loop of line led aft through fairleads. One side is fixed to the sprit’s outboard end, and the other to its long-for-leverage inboard end. Between them, the driver can be set, backed, or fixed within a nearly 180-degree sweep. The bight-tail is cleated as one to fix position. The control lines clear the deck and no boomkin is necessary. The stowed mizzen amidships leaves a small patch of sail standing. This saves lashing the boom vertically and provides a spot for hanging our anchor light. MUSTELID’s cabin is inspired by Phil Bolger’s BIRDWATCHER. It is watertight to the narrow centerline gangway and adds immense reserve buoyancy in a knock-down. In theory, we can self-right from within the hull, important for remote, cold-water sailing. Buoyancy when awash is also provided by the watertight long bench, seat lockers, and the watertight fore and aft lockers. The cabin’s gangway is covered by telescoping hatches traveling their entire length. A 100W solar panel is mounted on the upper one.

Slowly, Point Leo rose above us from its crouch, appropriately leonine, and its mane of breakers roared at our approach. Rock faces, mineral streaked and stained in muted maroons, yellows, and carbon-blacks were now vivid above wrack-clad rocks awash in milling fields of foam.

We’d held our upwind advantage against the offshore breeze, and it was time to turn down. I pulled the whipstaff aft, and we fell off to port to parallel the shoreline.

A sudden loud whump and lurch startled us as the foresail half-jibed to open full, wing and wing. MUSTELID surged forward with its doubled power, uncomfortably pressing our hull speed. Anke quickly eased the clew outhaul and reefed four turns, and we slowed to a manageable clip.

We rounded the point at a run, the gnash and splash of water chewing stone close at hand. As if hamstrung, the breeze suddenly fell away. We were left bobbing on ocean swell unopposed by wind. We had covered 5 nautical miles in one hour, and we had rowed a quarter of that. We were an hour ahead of plan; that meant an extra hour of fair tide still ahead.

Sue Horwath

MUSTELID sailed a light breeze with the Ljungström mainsail closed for windward sailing and both sheets handled as one. Both leeboards are deployed for lateral resistance.

Fortuna Strait, the 1-2⁄3-mile passage inshore of Klokachef Island, grew quiet and flat. We got our first look at Leo Anchorage, a recess in the wall of Chichagof, fronting a broad valley between verdant mountain ranges. It has good holding and is protected from prevailing winds but is rolly and exposed to the south. Not a place to linger, but a decent fallback.

We left behind the protective north reefs off Klokachef and with them, flat water. Ocean swells swept into kicked-up walls of spray and dingy foam on the reefs to starboard. With shore now close to starboard, the waves rebounded to us. What had been widely spaced and gentle slopes in Salisbury Sound were here steep, cross-hatched ridges creating interstices big and deep enough to hold MUSTELID in cupped palms, tossing us from hand to hand.

With each of MUSTELID’s yawing plunges, our oars wrenched on one side, and missed on the other. We quickly learned to time our strokes to connect with the water or to pass and commit less power to each. It was strenuous, slow going, but we were moving steadily.

The Ljungström sails, spread wing and wing, provide well-balanced power for downwind sailing. Anke’s carbon-fiber ukulele is inexpensive, lightweight, compact, and waterproof.

After 3 miles of this, though, I felt the first pangs from muscles in my shoulders and back. I was already approaching my physical limit. We were halfway; whether we turned back or carried on, it would take the same effort either way. Anke said she was still at full strength but if I dropped out, her load would increase. I was not sure she could carry us forward alone for long. I kept rowing to help as much as I could manage.

Ordinarily, under these conditions we would find a place to anchor, but while this whole stretch off the Khaz Peninsula is shoal enough to be within reach of our anchor, it’s foul. The bottom could eat the anchor or spit it out. If the prevailing westerly came up, we’d be on a merciless lee shore. By the look of it, even without wind, it would be like spending the night in a blender.

We labored toward Point Slocum, two-thirds of the way up this outer stretch. I was trembling and felt loose in the joints. I had no cramps yet, but they couldn’t be far off. I kept pulling and breathing, a little ragged now. Anke’s tough, and while she was tired, she kept rowing.

We were drawing even with Slocum and contemplated risking one of our anchors as far out as we could reach bottom, when the wind lifted from nothing to a firm push from the south. We unfurled the sails to halfway, foresail open, and let the wind carry us foaming along.

With wind came darker squalls of rain, obscuring the rocks among which we now sailed at speed. Rain splattered on the water around us and the wind hissed in our rigging. MUSTELID was surrounded by the ceaseless roar of surf on rock and the shrill pealing of gulls.

Here at Piehle Passage we enter a cluster of small, wooded islands in an area on the chart maligned as “foul bottom.” The orange spool on the foredeck, made for long extension cords, holds 150′ of ⅜″ line at the ready for an expendable anchor and chain. The single sail and boom are set in the forward position instead of the Ljungström rig. The sheet and clew meet at a grommet that travels along the boom as the roller-furling sail is extended or retracted. By keeping the sheet and the clew anchored at the same point, the load on the boom isn’t subject to the bending force of having the two separated, and the boom can be made thinner and lighter.

We tended inshore, among breaker-marked rocks, closing to make the entrance to Piehle Passage, leading off the outer coast to more protected waters. It had been described to us many times, but no two descriptions matched. Up ahead, we could see a low island, close onshore. Its profile matched our best guess as that marking the turn into Piehle.

Anke jibed the starboard wing over with a jolt, instantly reducing the foresail’s area by half and slowing our approach. She clambered aft to sit close behind me as a particularly dark, wet, squall made dusk of daylight and poured itself upon us.

Together, we steered ahead with the wind on our port quarter. We were tired, and it took my two hands and one of Anke’s to operate the whipstaff. It felt bolted in place.

We tore close on by a boulder that reared mast-high above us, and emerged on its far side, unscathed and in the clear.

Our relief was short-lived. A raft of five sea lions that we had startled charged us while rising high out of the water. Then, as one, they dove off and away, leaving nothing behind but their foul, fishy breath.

Shaking, we turned to skirt the leeward island’s tresses of kelp, floating at their ease amid the froth of breaking water. We rounded Piehle’s entrance into the lee and all that wind and chop and churn—which we could still see and hear heaving behind us—fell to ripples and catspaws.

Spacered outwales create a strong girder to support the sheer. The gaps between evenly spaced blocks provide slots for plug-in accessories like the tholepins, leeboard hanger, and whipstaff (which can be repositioned at will). We carve tholepins from spruce limbs and make grommets from beachcombed poly-pro rope. They cost nothing, and float if dropped overboard. The oar looms come from standing-dead spruce trees, and their slender blades are shaped to shed flotsam or flipped to hook it. A leeboard is below, in its stowed position. It is shaped to be laid horizontally over the cleats to form a large, cockpit platform for sleep, work, or play. At left, the dark rectangle is one of the drain ports that dumps water should the cockpit swamp.

The entrance looked wider than we had imagined but its margins are mostly hidden. Rocks, black and jagged, popped up at random, some marked by weed. Others, we knew, lurked just under water, which was now too still to betray their presence.

Peering overboard, we could see a mixed bottom of sand, weed, and rock a couple fathoms down. Mussel blues and bladderwrack greens, starfish reds and oranges, and anemones’ waxy shades of white shimmered below.

We hung our leeboards over the side from hangers slotted into the outwale to thwart those willy-nilly gusts, which skittered us sideways in the narrow passages.

Many of the rocky islands scattered about were storm-scoured naked, or sprouted a paltry stubble weed. On others were a few stunted trees with trunks fixed in a wind-levered slant. We were not yet through the passage and still on what must be the frontlines of winter storms.

Peter Ord

The four sails of our three-masted cat-ketch rig—twin-foresail main, mizzen, and sprit-boomed driver—are identical and interchangeable. A deep reef is put in the sail used for the driver.

Maze-like waterways wove and wandered between islets and islands. The chart abandoned accuracy, stating “Local knowledge is advised.” Three elongated islands we had depended on to guide us weren’t clearly identifiable in the mishmash of poorly drawn features. No elevations were given to help sort things out. We got lost.

Only blunt Khaz Head, intermittently visible, hinted our general whereabouts. With it as our guide, we squirreled into one of many havens among crumbling cathedrals of granite, basalt, and metamorphic rock. Anchored, and shore-tied to a wizened tree, we were too tired to celebrate.

We tumbled into our dry cabin, changed into dry clothes, and I hung the wet up to dry. Anke lit a fire and within minutes warmth began to soothe and loosen our tight and knotted muscles. Soon, the teapot burbled that hot spruce-needle tea was ready. We threw the last of the salad into the cast-iron frypan, added handfuls of bladderwrack, and—as a special reward—smothered it in precious curls of cheddar. Once the seaweed had turned brilliant green and tender and the cheese was dripping molten, we fell to and devoured every last morsel.

Satiated, and clumsy with fatigue, Anke unfolded our mattress and pulled the sleeping bags from their pillows while I hitched our anchor light from the mizzen boom, knowing no one would see it.

Cradled and rocked within MUSTELID, lulled by the croon of surf, Anke and I drifted off to sleep.

 

Dave and Anke have produced a series of fascinating videos about their experiences with MUSTELID. Join them as they design and build the boat that will become their home for an epic adventure around stunning Southeast Alaska. Episode 1 explores who Anke and Dave are, how they live and what they propose for their adventure. New videos will be released each Saturday of the weeks that follow. The entire collection will be archived in the Specials section of the Small Boats Nation website.

Anke Wagner and Dave Zeiger live and sail in Southeast Alaska’s Alexander Archipelago, sometimes for years between towns, on a series of self-built boats mostly of their own design: TriloBoats, MUSTELID, and dories. They acted as caretakers at remote sites for a number of winters and work the gig economy when they must. They most enjoy sailing full and by along the Low Road, with extended stays in undisclosed locations of exceptional beauty. They document their adventures at Triloboats.

If you have an interesting story to tell about your adventures with a small boat, please email us a brief outline and a few photos.

Magnet Retrieval

When my son and I launched to go boating on the Duwamish River, the tide was out and the water at the end of the dock was only about 4′ deep. Nate stayed with the boat while I parked the car and trailer and while he was waiting he caught a glimpse of something resting on the bottom between the dock and the boat. He used the plug for ALISON’s motor well—it has a plexiglas window in the bottom—to get a clear view underwater and saw a Veo e-bike and a black and yellow Klein screwdriver. When I got back to the boat I was eager to hop aboard and get underway, but Nate rightly pointed out the e-bike had lithium batteries, which we couldn’t leave to contaminate the water. I handed him the anchor to use as a grappling hook and he was able to retrieve the bike and walk it to the far edge of the parking lot. I’d bought a fishing magnet kit a few weeks earlier and if I’d had it in the car or aboard the boat, we’d have motored away from the dock with a nice Klein screwdriver.

I was intrigued, for a while, by magnet fishing, but after seeing a lot of YouTube videos about it and watching a few magnet anglers at launch sites, I decided that there wasn’t anything made of steel or iron that had been sitting on the bottom for who knows how long that I needed, even if I got lucky enough to drag a magnet across it. But acquiring a Klein screwdriver that someone had dropped overboard right where we could see it, or better still, recovering one of my own tools that I had dropped overboard? That interested me.

Photographs by the author

The magnet I bought came with 65′ of 6mm line with carabiners attached, cut-resistant gloves, the magnet with two screw eyes, a bag with a shoulder-strap drawcord, a plastic scraper to remove particles from the magnet, and a stainless-steel grappling hook.

The magnet I purchased came with the Kratos 1100 Double Sided Neodymium Classic Magnet Fishing Kit. The double-sided neodymium magnet is rated at 1,100 lbs, but that’s the sum force of both sides—each face has a pulling force of 550 lbs. In the magnet-fishing world, that’s a beginner’s magnet. (Neodymium magnets come in different grades, most commonly between N35 and N55, with the higher grades being the stronger; mine had no grade indicated.)

The magnet is double-sided and the screw eye can be attached to a threaded insert on either side. A small tube of thread-locking compound is included to prevent the screw eye from coming loose. The magnet has its best holding power in this orientation and is used when directly above the bottom being worked.

The full lifting force of the magnet isn’t likely to come into play when pulling some ferrous object off the bottom. The 550-lb force of my magnet would only be evident if pulled perpendicularly from a ferrous object with a flat surface and enough volume to engage the magnet’s magnetic field. I was once lucky enough to recover an old bottle cap, which I could easily pull straight off the magnet, and slide it off to the side more easily still. On larger objects, rough, irregular, and curved surfaces all reduce the magnet’s hold. A bicycle run off the end of a dock might weigh less than 50 lbs, but my magnet might not be powerful enough to hold it. Kratos sells single-sided magnets rated at over 2 tons that would have the kind of power required.

A screw eye can be installed in the side of the magnet for dragging across the bottom. Because the magnet is double-sided, it doesn’t matter which side is down, but its grip is diminished by the lateral pull. Dragging the magnet increases the chances of disturbing the bottom.

To test my magnet’s potential, I carefully placed it on the infeed table of my workshop’s 6″ jointer. It took hold of the smooth, flat, surface and its mass and wouldn’t let go when I pulled the lifting eye straight up—the jointer rose instead. The magnet wouldn’t budge when I tried pushing it sideways. To get it off, I had to use a 2×4 as a lever with the jointer fence as a fulcrum.

Ferrous metals aren’t the only thing I’ve recovered with my magnet. At the local boat-launch site, I clipped the tail end of its retrieval cord to the dock and threw the magnet out well beyond the submerged concrete ramp. Each of the two pulls I did harvested a volley-ball-sized comet of underwater plants. If they were native plants, I had damaged the ecosystem. If they were invasives, I might have accelerated their spread. And I might have stirred up toxic sediment that is best left undisturbed. While I didn’t identify what I’d uprooted on the freshwater ship canal, I know that eelgrass is an important part of Puget Sound’s near-shore environment, and that magnet fishing there might quickly do a lot of harm.

Two throws into the water beyond the launch ramp brought up all of this bottom growth in large clumps. (I had been dipping the magnet around the dock and didn’t move the screw eye to the side for dragging.)

The webpage for the magnet I bought notes that it is “perfect for use in a workshop of any kind.” I think it is too powerful for setting stops and featherboards on my tablesaw; magswitches are more easily applied and removed. Picking up spilled nails and screws or drill-press shavings works well when I put a 12″ square of canvas over the magnet to make removing those sharp things quicker and safer.

This isn’t the screw driver that Nate spotted, or the ramp we launched from, but a re-creation of the sighting. The blue screwdriver is mine, thrown off the dock and easily recovered with the magnet.

I’m happy to keep the magnet in my boating gear to use when I know there’s something valuable on the bottom that I can retrieve by dipping the magnet rather than dragging it. And if I ever have the idle time to go “fishing,” I’ll take a look first either with the motor-well plug as Nate did, or with my bathyscope or underwater video system.

Christopher Cunningham is the editor of Small Boats.

You can share your tips and tricks of the trade with other Small Boats readers by sending us an email.

Seavolt LED Tail Lights

Our Penobscot 14, ST. JACQUES, was next on the list to get her own trailer so we could explore the waterways of the Mid-Atlantic states. We set her up on an EZ Loader 14′ rig with an 800-lb capacity and, as usual with this type of small boat trailer, the frame box only extends about 2′ beyond the axle. This configuration places the tail lights underneath the boat, about 3′ forward of the transom and partially hidden from sight, so we decided to add LED tail lights to the trailer’s guideposts to augment the frame-mounted lights.

Photographs by the author

There are 10 red LEDs per side, mounted on a printed circuit board. Fixed on thick-walled PVC tubing, the lights can fit onto the top of any standard trailer guidepost.

We searched for trailer guidepost light kits and found an economical option, the Seavolt LED Trailer Guide-On kit. The kit consists of two LED light assemblies made from thick-walled PVC that mount to the top of standard 2″ PVC guideposts. The LEDs are red, covered by a clear acrylic lens. The wiring harness is 10′ long for each side, and an easy-to-follow instruction guide explains how to splice the guidepost light into the existing 12-volt DC trailer wiring. Six total wire connections must be made for each ground, brake, and tail light per side. The kit provides butt connectors as well as snap connectors. We prefer to splice with butt connectors and then tape the connections with self-fusing silicone-rubber tape to minimize water intrusion. The tape also insulates the wire connection, remains flexible, and withstands road temperature extremes. Trailer-frame clips and heat-shrink tubing to cover the butt connectors are also included.

Bringing the trailer lights out from under the boat improves their visibility, keeps them protected from road damage, and in most cases, will also keep them above water when launching or recovering a boat.

The lights are the newest surface-mounted diode (SMD) technology, 10 lights per fixture, mounted on printed circuit boards and DOT/SAE-approved (Department of Transportation/Society of Automotive Engineers). SMD LEDs burn brighter with less power than the older bulb-type LED lights, they are highly reliable, and are less expensive to manufacture. The fixtures are submersible, but since they sit on top of the guideposts, just above ST. JACQUES’ gunwales, they are unlikely ever to be submerged. This position places the tail, turn, and brake lights at about eye level and in clear sight for any vehicles following us down the road, a sure-fire attention-getter. The top cap of the assembly is infused with a high-visibility red color, which will help us while backing up the trailer and will provide a good visual reference when loading the boat onto the trailer at the ramp. The light kit is installed quickly; stainless-steel screws are provided to secure the PVC casing to the guidepost.

We’ve been using LED trailer lights for years, and they have proven very reliable. We don’t miss the days of carrying spare incandescent bulbs and a wire brush to get rust off the old-school trailer lights. But any trailer lights mounted on the trailer frame are close to the road and create more opportunities for damage, so our “belt-and-suspenders” addition of guidepost-mounted lights assures safer trailering.

Audrey (Skipper) and Kent Lewis light up the night skies of Virginia with their fleet of 16 small boats and seven trailers. Their adventures are logged at Small Boat Restoration.

The Seavolt Trailer Guide-on Post-Mounted LED Tail Lights Kit is available from West Marine for $64.99. Other online outlets have prices as low as $54.99.

Is there a product that might be useful for boatbuilding, cruising, or shore-side camping that you’d like us to review? Please email your suggestions.