Here’s a fine outboard skiff that will prove inexpensive, easy to build, and fast on the water.

Early on the finest Saturday morning in July, I found my way to a perfect small lake in central Maine. Hidden away in the green foothills, not twenty minutes from the blacktop parking lots and shopping mall bustle of Augusta, this secluded water offers a good home for Henry and Sam Whittemore’s Diablo skiff.

Sitting quietly at her mooring, BONITO, as the Whittemores call their boat, is striking. Designer Phil Bolger drew sweeping longitudinal curves into this skiff. These contrast with the hull’s sharp and angular transverse sections to make a strong visual statement. Either you will really like her looks (for the record, I do), or you won’t. She leaves little room for neutrality. The matter of her performance seems more certain: it is superb.

Photo by Henry Whittemore

BONITO’s Diablo design is derived from the Amesbury skiff—itself a dory-derivative. The plywood hull is easily built, and easy on the eyes.

Henry and Sam, father and son, built this skiff a few years back when Sam was an eighth-grader. Now he’s a sturdy high-school senior, and I weigh close to 200 lbs. But as the two of us climb aboard, the Diablo easily sur- vives our weight at the rail. Sam fires up the 15-hp Johnson outboard, and we idle toward open water.

Free of the harbor, he advances the throttle. Acceleration is instant and hang-on-tight impressive. As the young skipper throws the tiller over hard, the skiff banks easily into an incredibly tight high-speed turn. She leans reassuringly toward the inside of the turn like a well-piloted aircraft. In the morning calm, we cut sharply back and forth across the photo boat’s wake. BONITO handles the manmade waves smoothly and with absolute control.

A quick look at the hull described by Diablo’s body plan reveals the reasons for her prowess. The narrow (2′- wide) bottom, combined with substantial bilge panels that rise at an angle of about 26 degrees, offers low wetted surface when the boat is lightly loaded or when she rises up to plane as we open the throttle. Those well-angled bilge panels also ensure that this skiff banks predictably toward the inside of high-speed turns. The panel to the outside of the turn offers plenty of lift. There seems little danger that we might trip over a chine and capsize outward.

Photo by Henry Whittemore

Author O’Brien enjoys an outing with builder Sam Whittemore on a central Maine lake. The materials for this boat, BONITO, came from the local lumberyard.

When running at speed, Diablo shows considerable dynamic stability, but what about initial stability when she’s stopped dead in the water for fishing or working? Does that narrow bottom give cause for worry? Not really. She heels down some as we approach the rail, but then she stiffens firmly…and more quickly than we might have expected. Fishermen will like this friendly stability curve.

The hull’s straight bottom up forward mimics the Amesbury skiffs from which Diablo is derived, and its shape will help to ease construction. Bolger predicts: “It will stop her when it digs into the back face of a sea, but not intolerably since she has the exaggerated topside buoyancy to pick her up.”

After testing the Diablo prototype, builder Dynamite Payson praised the hull’s relatively full forward sections in Build the New Instant Boats (International Marine, 1984): “She can carry much more weight up there than a slim- mer craft of her size can, and with a following sea that’s pushing her along at a good clip, she won’t start to nose dive, either. Sure, going into heavy weather she is going to pound a little more, but…I can slow her down and wiggle my way over head seas….”

Photo by Henry Whittemore

BONITO is easily nosed onto a beach, and takes the ground standing bolt upright.

Payson, a commercial waterman before he began putting together boats, holds powerful feelings about having adequate buoyancy forward: “This bias of mine has its roots in my experience with various types of lobsterboats I used while working off Metinic Island. During the late ’40s and early ’50s, a trend developed away from the lower-powered, easily driven fishing boats toward [hulls with broader sterns]. There was an awkward time during that evolutionary period, before boatbuilders realized that if you put a big wide stern on a workboat and crowd the power to it, then you are damn well going to need more bearing forward to hold the bow up instead of getting it pushed down by the force of following seas piling up against the wide transom. During this transitional period, fishermen were trapped in boats whose combination of wide sterns and narrow bows made them mean to steer with any sea behind….”

We’ll build Diablo with sheet-plywood panels held together by composite joints. That is, we’ll cut the panels to shape following expanded patterns shown on the plans. Then we’ll assemble them with tacks (actually 18-gauge nails), which will hold the hull’s shape until we can permanently secure everything with fiberglass tape, epoxy, and filler.

This is the “tack-and-tape” building method. In theory it’s essentially identical to the simple “stitch-and-glue” technique that has produced thousands of home-built kayaks; but instead of twisting plastic or wire ties to join the panels, we’ll drive lots of small nails. Payson sees advantages: “You’re spared the need to drill holes to lead the wire through, and you don’t have to wreck your hands twisting the ends together…. I hate working with wire.” Neither method requires close fits or much beveling. Both methods demand considerable grinding and sanding if we’re going to achieve a yacht finish.

Henry and Sam built BONITO with 1⁄4″ and 1⁄2″ exterior-grade fir plywood panels. They used spruce framing lumber for the thwarts and trim…all from the local lumberyard. Although they worked precisely to the Diablo hull shape as drawn by Bolger, the father-son team modified a few details. They built a useful locker below the ’midship thwart. A nifty foredeck adds more room for stowage and flotation, without spoiling the graceful sheerline. Additional lockers and flotation will be found below the quarter seats.

Photo by Henry Whittemore

Options abound for the boat’s layout. Sam Whittemore and his Dad, Henry, found stowage space under the thwart and foredeck. A center console would work on this hull, too.

Might we consider other alterations? On occasion, some folks (often professional watermen) like to stand erect while driving boats of this type…for improved visibility and to allow their knees to act as shock absorbers. We could install a steering console, but I’d be inclined to avoid the expense and dead-stick vagueness of remote controls. Instead, a robust 3 1⁄2′-tall post installed somewhere abaft the ’midship thwart would give us a firm handhold when we’re standing and steer- ing directly with a tiller extension. These stanchions (sissy bitts, chicken posts, idiot bitts…call them what you will) cost little and spoil less space than consoles. Of course, we’ll employ them carefully and in reasonable sea conditions.

So, here you have an easily built skiff that performs as well as (or better than) its store-bought competition, and the Whittemores have proven it to be a rewarding family project. Go for it!

Diablo Particulars

[table]

LOA/15′

Beam/5′

Power, maximum/25-hp outboard

[/table]

 

A narrow bottom and wide, angled bilge panels combine to give Diablo an efficient planing surface and predictable banking in turns. She has great dynamic stability at speed.

The Diablo Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2009. Plans and full-sized patterns for the Diablo are available from H.H. Payson & Company. Small-scale plans and building instructions for Diablo are included in Build the New Instant Boats, by Dynamite Payson, available from H.H. Payson & Company and The WoodenBoat Store. The book’s small-scale plans were intended as illustrations only, not for reading text and numbers; the plans and patterns from H.H. Payson & Company are recommended for building the Diablo.

Talk about tough acts to follow! What’s a boatbuilder to do when contemplating the sequel to a model that has long since become a legend in its own time? That’s the question Bill Womack and his crew at Beetle Inc. found themselves asking one day in 2006. Although the Beetle Cat is a big 12′ 4″ boat, it is still a little vessel in which skipper and crew are seated on the cedar floorboards. “What we were after,” said Womack, “was a traditional catboat with seats that would appeal to people who had grown up sailing a Beetle Cat but are now interested in a larger catboat.”

Womack turned the matter over to resident designer-builder for special projects, Bill Sauerbrey. Fresh from his creation of the 28′ C.C. Hanley catboat KATHLEEN (see WB No. 193), Bill soon concluded that a 14′ 4″ hull would be the smallest practical size to gracefully accommodate seats while also being large enough to distinguish itself from the venerable Beetle Cat.

Photo by Stan Grayson

The Beetle 14 (14’4″) is the big sister of the 12′ 4″ classic. Lest you think 2′ is not much of a difference, consider the designer’s observation that “You could fill two [original] Beetles with water and empty them into this boat.”

If adding 24″ to the length of a Beetle Cat doesn’t sound like much, think again. “It’s only 2′ longer than a Beetle,” Sauerbrey pointed out, “but it’s also wider and deeper and has more displacement. You could fill two Beetles with water and empty them into this boat.” Put another way, Sauerbrey reckons the 14 is about 80 percent more boat than a Beetle Cat.

The fact that a catboat has just one sail doesn’t mean there is anything simple about its design. Every proportion and detail, from centerboard location and size to sail cut, must be just right. Sauerbrey is well versed in the technical aspects of yacht design, but he also has a lot of practical experience in how all the various forces react on a centerboard hull powered by a single sail. This first-hand knowledge is a big plus for prospective owners of the Beetle 14. After extensive study of 14′ to 15′ catboats at Mystic Seaport and others for which he found drawings, Sauerbrey emerged with his own variation on the theme. The goal became a design that would avoid extremes and result in a fun-to-sail, solid-feeling yet responsive, and comparatively dry boat.

“The deadrise is more of an everyday catboat than a racing-oriented model,” Sauerbrey noted. “The latter would have a flatter bottom and tighter turn at the bilge. The Beetle 14’s comparatively round bottom is deeper than a Beetle Cat’s and puts more of the rudder in the water. This not only improves steering as the boat heels but means we could round off the rudder. This rudder won’t catch the mainsheet should it be allowed to run out and fall in the water.”

Whatever its shape below the waterline, the Beetle 14 has a distinct resemblance to the Beetle Cat. That’s largely because Sauerbrey used a stem profile similar to that of the smaller boat. Also, the white oak coaming evokes the Beetle Cat’s. The coaming is relatively low, which will make it possible for many sailors to sit on the rail with their feet on the seats and not experience any pressure on the backs of their thighs.

As Sauerbrey worked out the hull shape, he had in mind the practicalities of building as well as performance. “The shape works well in a production setting,” he noted. The frames involve no excessively tight bends, and the hull is built according to the efficient Beetle method with steamed oak frames formed over the mold. That mold now occupies its own production space in Beetle’s Wareham, Massachusetts, shop.

The Beetle 14’s hardware is a mix of Beetle Cat and new pieces custom made to patterns crafted by Sauerbrey. The masthead fitting, eyebolts for blocks, bow chocks, twin mooring cleats, rudder pintles and gudgeons come from the Beetle Cat. The stemhead fitting, mast band/gooseneck, and the optional boom pedestal (or “crab”) are unique to the 14. So is one of the rudder’s tiller straps. The halyard and sheet cleats and the bronze blocks are all one size larger than those of the Beetle Cat. I was impressed with the Beetle 14’s rig. For one thing, the proportions of all the Sitka-spruce spars—mast, gaff, and boom—look exactly right. Nothing is too large or too slender. Rather than design a gaff saddle, some of which work well while others are marginal and unable to resist forces that tilt the gaff to one side or another, Sauerbrey fitted the Beetle 14 gaff with jaws. The boom is rigged with a topping lift, an important feature on any catboat much larger than a Beetle.

Photo by Stan Grayson

As with the original Beetle Cat, the Beetle 14 is carvel planked in cedar on steam-bent white oak frames.

On a sunny day in mid-May, I joined Bill Sauerbrey and his colleague Mark Williams to check out the Beetle 14. We’d be sailing the waters off Osterville, Massachusetts, the very neighborhood in which the Crosby boatshops once stood. A gusty northerly wind had blown all clouds from the sky but suggested that a single reef in the 180-sq-ft sail would be prudent. (The sail has two sets of reefpoints versus the Beetle Cat’s one.)

I stepped gingerly from the dock onto the boat’s bow only to find that the Beetle 14’s foredeck is a very steady platform. Gear is easily stowed under the foredeck where a pair of flotation bags is located for that highly unlikely, “just-in-case” scenario. (The boat carries 500 lbs of lead ballast beneath the floorboards.)

A good way to begin judging a catboat’s functionality is to see if there is anything fussy about hoisting and low- ering the sail. The Beetle 14’s gaff ascended easily. I noted the absence of leathered gaff jaws or parrel beads. Predictably, Sauerbrey had reasons for each. He’s found the gaff balances well, remains perpendicular to the mast, and slides easily thanks to a coating of wax on the jaws. (On the boat we sailed, the mast had remained unmarked after many hoistings and lowerings.) As for parrel beads, there is no need. The hoops hold the sail close enough to the hollow mast that the line around the mast from one jaw to the other is purely a safety measure and pro- duces no friction. The sail, incidentally, comes down very smartly, which is especially reassuring when a boat is sailed on and off its mooring or float (or during reefing procedures).

Photo by Stan Grayson

The Beetle 14 has a hollow spruce mast; the sail is affixed to it via mast hoops. Rather than articulating on a mast-mounted gooseneck, the boom swings on a deck-mounted bronze pedestal.

Underway, the Beetle 14 felt neither overly stiff nor in any way tender. The beamy hull (6’10”) just heels a bit and then forges ahead. There was just the right amount of weather helm, a desirable safety trait that will make the boat want to round up in puffs while giving a pleasant overall steering feel. It was not until we turned for home and began beating up Cotuit Bay that we began to feel some wind-borne spray. Considering the weight of that breeze, the Beetle 14 proved a reasonably dry boat, certainly more so than its smaller sibling. According to Sauerbrey, who has sailed the boat extensively in a wide range of winds, the bow shape helps knock down some spray as the boat heels.

As we headed back to West Bay through the lovely Seapuit River, we found ourselves in the lee of Osterville Grand Island, and Sauerbrey suggested it was time to shake out the reef. He quickly tensioned the topping lift to support the boom, slacked off the clew reef pennant, and uncleated the tack reefing line and then the reef- points. Finally, Bill hoisted the sail to its full height. Now, despite an adverse tide, we tacked our way through the river, raising the foil-sectioned board when it scraped the sand and then lowering away in deeper water. Here was a catboat in its natural habitat, doing its thing to perfection.

As we headed north in West Bay, the wind shifted to the southeast and lost velocity, so we congratulated our- selves on not having to put right back the reef we’d just taken out. All along, I watched how the gaff and boom moved as we shifted from one tack to another. The boom, mounted on the optional pedestal rather than a mast-mounted gooseneck, put no pressure on the mast and both boom and gaff swung easily from port to starboard, creating no uneven strains to mar the sail’s shape.

Photo by Stan Grayson

The Beetle 14’s stern sections and barn-door rudder are reminiscent of the original Beetle Cat; the seats, visible here, aren’t (sailing an original Beetle, skipper and crew sit directly on the cockpit sole).

The battenless “Egyptian cream cloth” sail was developed by Bill Ribar—it seems almost everyone in this project was named Bill—of Doyle Buzzards Bay; he has extensive gaff rig experience. The sail is notably well reinforced at all corners and the tack and clew reef cringles. It was very responsive to tinkering with halyard tension on different points of sail. According to Ribar, the sail has a little less fullness than a Beetle Cat’s in order to enhance pointing ability. Whether one chooses to order this sailor talk to another sailmaker experienced in the ways of gaff rig, be advised that you get what you pay for in a sail. A well-designed sail built of quality fabric will hold its shape long after cheaper versions have broken down.

One sometimes hears the term “wholesome” used in regards to a sailboat. My overall impression is that the “wholesome” adjective perfectly fits the Beetle 14. This is an honest boat that is fun, rewarding, safe, good to look at, and small enough to be built of now scarce classic materials (a white oak keel, 5⁄8″ Atlantic white cedar planks over white oak frames, with domestically made bronze fastenings). Neither is the boat so big as to present a maintenance headache. The topsides are coated with an easily sanded Pettit semigloss, while earth-toned Kirby flat finish colors are used on deck canvas and the interior. Sauerbrey noted that the interior paint will age gracefully and can be maintained with light sanding and an occasional thin recoating. About the only thing I could think to add to the Beetle 14 might be a mast coat—Sauerbrey didn’t rule this out but noted that, without one, water is not trapped at the mast partner but instead passes freely into the bilge—and some cushions.

For those fortunate to live in an area of shoal waters and sandy bottoms, the Beetle 14 should provide many years of satisfying ownership. The $35,500 price is certainly competitive for a professionally built boat of 1,250 lbs displacement. The buyer of the first boat, seeking something with more comfort than his Beetle Cat and more liveliness than his centerboard sloop, liked his Beetle 14 so much that he ordered another.

This Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2009; learn more from Beetle Inc.

BEATRICE is a modified Saint-Pierre dory—a type once common on the waters of Canada’s Maritime Provinces. Born on the islands of Saint-Pierre et Miquelon off the coast of Newfoundland (French possessions to this day), the Saint-Pierre dory was a local response to a French government requirement for cheap, durable, and safe fishing craft for local fishermen.

Taking the traditional rowing dories of the region as a starting point, the Saint-Pierre dory gained size and weight and evolved higher ends and greater freeboard. It also gained an engine—usually a single-cylinder “make-and-break” two-stroke coupled to an ingenious retractable propeller and shaft. The boats sometimes had forward cabins. BEATRICE is a further evolution of this concept, and was designed by David Roberts of Nexus Marine for construction in fiberglass-sheathed plywood.

Photo by Karol Wilczynska

David Roberts of Nexus Marine (Everett, Washington) modified the traditional Saint-Pierre dory for recreational use; New Zealander Alan Litchfield built his boat, BEATRICE, to the design, with modifications to suit local conditions.

“It’s brilliant,” says Alan Litchfield, who had BEATRICE built for use in his native New Zealand waters. Roberts, he says, has “taken all the core elements of a traditional Saint-Pierre dory and made a few minor modifications—more beam, lower freeboard, a wider transom—to create a great little boat that’s stable, predictable, and loads of fun. I wanted a boat I could trailer to places like the Kaipara or Hokianga [Harbours] where Karol [Wilczynska; his wife] and I could spend our weekends exploring.” Trailering, he says, “also saves us having to moor her or keep her on a marina berth.” She lives in the couple’s suburban driveway when she’s not being used.

With beam of 8′ 9″, the David Roberts–designed Saint-Pierre dory is 3″ over the legal trailerable limit in the United States. Therefore, a permit or a modest tolerance for risk will be required to get her home from the ramp in the United States. BEATRICE carries thick solid-mahogany rubbing strakes, which swell her beam to 9’6″ (2.9 m); in New Zealand, that’s not a problem, and Litchfield can tow BEATRICE behind his TD5 Land Rover Discovery with only a few restrictions. The boat has proven easy to launch and retrieve, although her flat bottom and lack of self-centering rollers mean that retrieving is a two-person job.

Photo by Karol Wilczynska

BEATRICE’s modifications from the original plans include a slightly raised house, triple skegs (rather than one) for handy beaching, and accommodations that include a private forward cabin.

Aside from the thick rubbing strakes, Litchfield and the boat’s builder, Randall Haines, decided on several changes to the plans, largely to accommodate New Zealand conditions and their own boating experience. While designer Roberts wasn’t totally thrilled with all the changes, he was always consulted and, according to Litchfield, his advice was heeded wherever possible.

Another change to the original drawings includes the addition of an enclosed, slightly raised wheelhouse, rather than the specified hardtop with side curtains. The ability to close off the helm from the cockpit turns the boat into an all-seasons cruiser—a plus because boating is possible year-round in New Zealand. Winter weather, however, is colder and wetter, while in summer the ability to get out of the sun is welcome. Canvas covers enclose the whole cockpit for cozy overnighting.

Litchfield and Haines raised the wheelhouse roof a fraction so he and Karol could enjoy standing headroom. The roof framing itself has been modified from longitudinal to transverse laminated frames. It has more curvature, for better water shedding, and is stronger: the roof easily supports a standing adult.

Roberts’s main concerns with changes to his original design revolved around increased weight up high, exacerbated, he felt, by Litchfield’s decision to move the galley from its forward position below in front of the helm bulkhead to the wheelhouse opposite the helm. BEATRICE’s galley is certainly very serviceable, although seating accommodation has been lost (Litchfield has compensated somewhat with a folding jockey seat), and the space once occupied by the galley has become a useful navigation station. Aft-facing seats were also added to the cockpit: an icebox lives under one and the LPG bottle under the other, nicely isolated from the cabin.

“Roberts designed the boat primarily as a day cruiser; we like to use her for extended trips, sometimes of a week or more,” explained Litchfield. “So the ability to close off the accommodation was important to us and we wanted more usable galley space, since we cook real meals aboard. I’m also nervous about gas bottles housed down below. In the plans [the gas] was all the way forward. I feel happier with it up on deck.”

Down below, Litchfield ditched the hanging locker, changed the head layout, and moved a bulkhead forward and took it only partway to the coach roof. He also dispensed with a plumbed head and opted for a portable chemical toilet instead. The main advantage of the new layout is that the forward cabin can be closed off for privacy. On overnight expeditions, the portaloo can be moved out to the cockpit.

Photo by Karol Wilczynska

Modern construction meets traditional appearance. BEATRICE’s framework, seen here, will be “planked” in marine plywood, which will in turn be sheathed in fiberglass set in epoxy.

The other major modification was necessitated by the decision to fit a larger engine than was specified. BEATRICE runs a 60-hp four-stroke Yamaha outboard in a box-well; a 50-hp unit was specified, but the model was no longer available. The 60-hp has a wider cowling than the 50-hp, requiring a wider motorwell. A wider well means less buoyancy aft. Other modifications included enclosing the spaces between the coamings/sidedecks and cockpit sole, and along either side of the engine, to make lockers. Breather holes were added to allow airflow below decks.

Changes to the outboard well design probably caused everyone the most concern. Indeed, early trials indicated BEATRICE was stern heavy, with water slopping over the well and through the scuppers into the self-draining cockpit. Performance was good with the bigger engine—8.5 knots at half throttle—but Litchfield was uneasy about water splashing onto his batteries, originally installed in front of the engine well. The solution was simple: the batteries were moved forward and down low in the boat under the chart table, close to the instruments and electronics, making a subsequent rewiring job much easier. Aware from the beginning of Roberts’s concerns about top weight, Litchfield installed the 100-liter fuel tank between the frames under the floor amidships. In the original design a much smaller tank is positioned under the helm seat. Acting in tandem with a 100-liter water bladder, also below the waterline, as ballast, he was confident the tanks would address any trim issues. There’s no more water slopping into the cockpit, and he reports BEATRICE’s motion to be very stable—stiff, in fact.

There are other, less visible, variations to Roberts’s plans: three solid timber skegs rather than one, so BEATRICE can take the ground with minimal damage, and substantial changes to the bow. Litchfield has added a bowsprit and fairlead, along with a Lofrans electric capstan. The bow area has been greatly strengthened with solid timber blocks, to cope with long periods at anchor and to accommodate the substantial ground tackle that’s mandatory when cruising in New Zealand.

Photo by Karol Wilczynska

With the hull inverted, BEATRICE’s motorwell and accommodations are built. The well seen here is larger than the one specified on the plans.

The Yamaha 60-hp gives BEATRICE a top speed of around 17 knots. A cruise speed of 8.5 knots is comfortable, and 7.5 knots at 2,700 rpm seems to be the best compromise between speed and economy. The box well takes up quite a bit of space, but the engine is easily accessible and can be tilted until the propeller is clear of the water. BEATRICE will run for 20 hours on 26.4 gallons (100 liters) of gas.

Atrip to Tiritiri Matangi Island in Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf showed up BEATRICE’s charm and also some of the idiosyncrasies of a dory design. With a flat bottom she behaves more like a dinghy than a launch, relying on her skegs to keep her on the straight and narrow. Underway she tracks well enough, but at low speeds she can be a bit tricky in a crosswind. I was surprised at how well she coped with short, steep seas in Tiri Channel, easily dealing with waves on the nose or slightly from the beam, provided the skipper adjusted her speed to suit the conditions. Litchfield has braved 40 knots and 10′ seas without incident.

Where BEATRICE really came into her own was in the calm waters of a quiet bay at Tiritiri Matangi Island. We nosed carefully inshore, one of us on the bow directing the helmsman through a maze of rocks and reef, to a beautiful sandy cove where we beached her on the sand. With the engine tilted up she draws little water, allowing safe inshore exploration. A flat bottom means she can take the ground—and she remains upright when she does so. These are traits the owners have found invaluable during their ongoing exploration of many of the country’s large, tidal harbors.

We enjoyed coffee and cake while watching the wildlife—marine and terrestrial—before rain and deteriorating sea conditions drove us back to civilization. Alan Litchfield and Karol Wilczynska would be stepping back aboard later in the day, happy to spend the weekend poking around Mahurangi Harbour and maybe Kawau Island to the north, regardless of the weather. BEATRICE is a busy girl.

The Nexus Saint-Pierre Dory, as drawn.

Plans for the 27′ St. Pierre Dory are available from Nexus Marine for $125.

Ah…the Kansas prairie. A land of wide-open spaces that evokes images of cattle drives, farmers on tractors, wheat fields, and the world-renowned Dorothy and Toto. This isn’t the type of place I would have thought to look for an example of designer Dick Newick’s Tremolino, a fast and futuristic-looking trimaran. Yet, on a quiet reservoir known as Cheney Lake just south of Wichita, BLUE MOON quietly awaits—poised for speed. Who’d ’a’ thunk it?

The Wichita area is a hotbed for aerospace technology. That may explain the high-tech-looking trimarans and catamarans that abound on Cheney Lake. Now we know how rocket scientists have their fun. It took BLUE MOON’s builder and owner, Lew Enns, and his good friend, Tom Welk (neither of whom is a rocket scientist), several years of part-time work to complete her. Their hard work paid off, though; she’s head-and-shoulders above the rest on Cheney Lake.

Please don’t send letters. This truly is a handmade wooden boat. While she may look like something out of science fiction, there’s much less new technology at work here than one might guess. In fact, its core technology has been around for millennia.

Photo by Tom Welk

The Dick Newick–designed Tremolino blends ancient technologies with high-tech design and construction methods. The strip-built trimaran gives even the less-experienced builder a chance to own this fast and fun-to-sail craft.

Dick Newick says, “ Thousands of years ago when early Europeans had trouble crossing small bodies of water, the people of Southeast Asia developed craft with more than one hull which they used to explore and settle the widely separated islands of the Pacific. If they had ever been motivated to leave this paradise for a cold climate, they might have astonished the natives of Europe long before Magellan ‘discovered’ the Pacific and their light multihulls that easily sailed three times as fast as his heavy vessels. The rest of us are slowly relearning what those ‘ignorant savages’ knew a long time ago. CHEERS! to those salty seamen.”

First-time trimaran builders Lew Enns and Tom Welk, while perhaps not as salty as our Southeast Asian predecessors, have done an outstanding job in constructing BLUE MOON. Lew studied other designers’ trimarans before settling on Newick’s Tremolino, but most of them used parts from beach catamarans, giving them a patched-together, discordant look to his eye. Tremolino is a unified original. Lew says, “I really like the looks of Newick designs. They seem like works of art.” Another important consideration for Lew and Tom was determining where the boat could be built. They wanted a design that could fit inside a 24′-long, two-car garage. The 23′ 6″ Tremolino “just fit” when set at a diagonal.

Photo by Karen Wales

Building BLUE MOON was a community effort. Tom Welk (left) joined family members and others to help owner Lew Enns (right) with construction. Lew’s son, Greg, designed a logo for added panache.

Lew and Tom ripped out miles of 3⁄ 8″ 3⁄ 4″ Western red-cedar strips in preparation for building the hulls. The stock was only 8′ or 10′ long, so they scarfed the pieces to get the necessary length prior to ripping. During the earliest stage of BLUE MOON’s construction, a new home was being built near Lew’s place, and the owner graciously saved the offcuts and scraps for his neighbors’ use. Lew and Tom recycled these materials, turning throwaways into their strongback, some of the molds, cross supports for the hulls, and a variety of jigs.

The Tremolino is a trimaran with a large, main hull, called a vaka, bounded by two smaller hulls known as amas. The cross beams that connect the three members are known as akas. Since the amas are the smallest hulls, and since they were to be built in halves on female molds (which can produce an outer hull that is truer and easier to fair), they seemed less daunting to Lew and Tom. So that’s where the builders began.

Photo by Tom Welk

Two outer hulls, called amas, give balance to the central hull, known as the vaka. Fore-and-aft crossbeams (akas) tie the boat together. Unlike a monohull, the vaka is not designed to be stable without the support of the amas.

No lofting is required to take the Tremolino plans to full scale; molds need only be traced and cut from the full-sized patterns. Lew and Tom were faithful to Newick’s plans, which specify stations spaced 12″ apart. After sheathing the molds with waxed paper, Lew and Tom laid in epoxied strips and temporarily fastened them with 1⁄4″ staples (with waxed ends) that could be set about 1⁄8″ proud for easy removal. The builders averaged six to ten strips per evening. After building the first set of ama halves, they reversed the molds to build the opposing, complementary ones.

In contrast to the amas, the vaca was built on a male mold setup. While the strips went on more easily than they did on the female molds of the amas, fairing was much harder. Tom passed this friendship test with flying colors, working many evenings alongside Lew. There were more tests to come, especially when lining up holes in ama halves to ensure a perfect fit in final assembly. Here, Lew deemed Tom a saint, as his stalwart friend endured hours of the measuring, fitting, and cussing that went into this critical step.

The akas were laid out on a strongback, which established bends in each one according to dimensions shown on the plans. This bending took the Douglas-fir almost to the breaking point—but designer Newick’s procedure worked well, and the completed akas came out fine. The cabin sides, foredeck, cockpit floor, and bulkheads are of okoume plywood. BLUE MOON’s cabintops are strip- built, and all three hulls are sheathed in 10-oz ’glass and epoxy.

Photo by Lew Enns

Placing the akas at the correct attitude through the inboard ama halves was one of the most critical opera- tions of BLUE MOON’s construction. Lew and Tom used a profile of each outboard ama half to ensure that both the angle and the depth of the akas were dead-on.

Dick Newick is one of the true pioneers of trimaran design in the western world (see WB No. 202, “Multihull Pioneers”). His designs take to the water like a feather drifting on a summer breeze. They look like they are moving fast even when moored. Years ago, when I was a design student at The Landing School in southern Maine, Dick Newick came to introduce us to the basics of trimaran design. His philosophy of simplicity and lightness, lightness, lightness impressed me greatly then, as it still does. His designs are not only fast (winning ocean races far and wide), but all of them are extraordinarily beautiful. In a way, BLUE MOON is high-functioning sculpture. If you are lucky enough to build a Tremolino, I hope you will follow Lew and Tom’s good example in adhering closely to Newick’s design.

If, like me, you are accustomed to sailing a monohull, this boat’s speed will knock your socks off. Kept light, she will attain velocities that one can only dream about with an average 24′ daysailer, and she will do it with just a few degrees of heel. Attaining these speeds with a monohull would require a perfect close reach heeled down on her ear. For me, less heeling means expending less energy. For some, it may also mean fewer bouts with seasickness.

The amas, though usually waterborne, provide the vaca with superb balance and agility, like a figure skater with arms in graceful extension. Because she’s a trimaran, BLUE MOON doesn’t turn on a dime, but she tacks without the awkward bumpiness associated with a catamaran.

Lew Enns

The amas were constructed in halves in a female mold. After gluing up strips for both parts of one ama, molds were reversed on the strongback to build a complementary pair.

Most owners understand that every boat is a collection of strengths and compromises. Boats that are easy and fun to use are seldom as easy to build. BLUE MOON fits that description. Another downside is that the Tremolino is not easily trailerable, although Lew and Tom are working on a customized trailer to make transport a bit easier. For now, though, she clips across Cheney Lake at a full run, or basks in her shady slip. She’s the queen of the Kansas prairie and an icon of the Newick fleet.

Tremolino is a sophisticated modern sailing machine whose construction is within reach of the dedicated amateur. The plans include full-sized patterns, so no lofting is necessary.

This Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2009 and appears here as archival material. If you have more information about this boat, plan or design – please let us know in the comment section.

I once worked in a New Hampshire cabinet shop with a gray-bearded guy named Paul who regularly offered only two criticisms of my craftsmanship. He would say either, “We’re not making a damn pigpen here,” or “We’re not making a damn piano here.” When I put the appropriate amount of effort into the job at hand, he’d let me be. If Paul ever looked over Joe Greenley’s shoulder as Joe built one of his strip-built kayaks, I think he’d sputter, “We’re not building a damn Louis XIV escritoire here.”

Joe has created quite a reputation for his company, Redfish Kayaks, by transforming strip-built kayaks into works of art. For years I’ve admired his craftsmanship at wooden boat festivals and kayak symposia in the Pacific Northwest, but I’d never paddled any of his boats. I suppose all I had to do was ask, but I was as reluctant to paddle one as I would be to use a guitar as a garden rake.

When I finally got a chance to paddle a Redfish kayak, it was a King built from a kit by Dale Meland under Joe’s tutelage. Dale was a disciple of decorative strip-building and did a first-rate job with his kayak’s sweeping patterns and pinstripes of Western red cedar, Alaska yellow cedar, and walnut. It was fine piece of craftsmanship, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that the kayak wasn’t just fancy woodwork; it was as much a pleasure to paddle as it was to admire.

Photo by Michael Berman

While the King kayak is for the intermediate–to–advanced paddler, the boat will introduce a willing rank beginner to the pleasures of good handling characteristics.

Redfish lists the King at 38 lbs. Dale had made a few modifications that brought the weight up to 43 lbs—still about a dozen pounds lighter than most fiberglass kayaks and an easy lift for cartopping. The cockpit is located a bit farther aft than is typical of most touring kayaks, so the balance point fell at the forward end of the coaming. While that made the boat a bit bow heavy for carrying slung over one shoulder, it was ideal for my preferred method of carrying: facing the stern with the kayak upside down and the coaming resting on both shoulders. That’s how Greenland kayakers carry their kayaks, especially when competing in races that include a portage; it’s a lot easier on the back.

Dale’s King had an optional feature called the Roller’s Recess. The recess is scooped out around the cockpit nearly to the sheerline and drops the aft end of the coaming well below deck level. The configuration gave me a range of motion that was equal to that of the low- profile Greenland kayaks I’ve built specifically for rolling. I could lie back and touch my head to the aft deck without having my hips lift out of the seat.

Photo by Christopher Cunningham

The Roller’s Recess is a Redfish trademark. This feature lowers the after portion of the cockpit coaming, allowing for easier-than-usual rolling.

Perimeter grab lines and bungee cords were secured by short loops of webbing anchored in slots cut into the foredeck. This installation of deck lines won’t snag clothing or ding knuckles during rescues and re-entries. It’s also visually unobtrusive; through-bolted plastic padeyes would detract from an artfully crafted deck.

Dale sculpted a mini-cell foam seat for a custom fit, and fortunately the contours were a perfect fit for me, too. The seat, hip pads, and backrest securely cradled my hips and encouraged an upright posture conducive to proper paddling technique. The foredeck was relatively low for a touring kayak and sloped down to the sheer well out of the way of the paddling stroke. The trade-off was diminished space in the cockpit, but I still had just enough foot room for my size-13 neoprene booties.

Christopher Cunningham

Strip-planking allows for myriad design options.

A float, the King provided a comfortably stable platform. Even in choppy water I could rest the paddle across the cockpit coaming and have both hands free to write in my notebook. While paddling in the shoals and getting slapped on the beam by breaking waves, it was easy to keep the hull underneath me. The secondary stability was excellent. Only when I canted my hips to the limits of my flexibility could I feel the stability begin to fall off, and by that time I had the coaming dipped into the water. I normally heel, or “edge,” my kayak when carving turns; this makes the boat much more responsive. When doing so in this test, the King offered plenty of righting moment for a very secure feeling. It took only a slight edging to get the King to respond to a sweep stroke with a crisply carved turn. When I wanted to maneuver in tight quarters, a bit more edging would get the stern to swing around smartly.

For speed trials, I ducked into a marina where I could find some still water and get out of the wind. The King tracked well when I brought it up to speed. The bow yawed back and forth only an inch or so, and it was easy for me to hold a straight course. My GPS showed I could slip along at just over 4 knots at a relaxed pace, hold 5 knots if I worked at it, and nudge just over 6 knots in a short sprint. These numbers are good for a sea kayak and just a half knot off my observations for the fastest touring kayaks. It’s not likely the King will be left trailing the pack.

When I took the King out in a 20-knot breeze, whitecaps were everywhere and a few wave crests lapped across the horizon. The boat was nicely balanced in the wind. If the bow strayed, a little edging was enough of a reminder to get it back on course. The King is equipped with neither a skeg nor a rudder, and manages quite well without. The only time the kayak got a bit squirrelly was when I was paddling on the lee side of a low point of land. The waves wrapped around the point, but the wind grazed over it. With the wind and waves coming from different directions and the waves growing short and steep in the shoals, I had to do a lot of steering to hold my course. A skeg or a rudder might have kept the stern from getting pushed around, but I didn’t feel I could fault the King for its performance. It responded well to my prodding to get it back on course. Farther from shore, the wind and waves weren’t so quarrelsome and the King was back on its best behavior.

In a following sea the King was quick to accelerate to surfing speed. If the bow began to drift off the fall line, it was easy enough to correct the course to keep from broaching. When heading upwind the bow had no tendency to bury itself in the oncoming waves, and what little water did come over the bow slipped over the smooth contours of the deck without throwing spray in my face.

Photo by Michael Berman

Redfish Custom Kayak and Canoe Company has built its reputation on good-performing, well-built boats that stand as works of art. The 17′ 9″ King is a kayak that will take care of a rookie and likewise satisfy a seasoned paddler.

The King is an excellent kayak for rolling. If you think of rolling as a difficult technique that you’d use only in an emergency, the King might just convince you that rolling is something to do for fun. The solid fit of the seating and thigh braces kept me locked solidly in the cockpit, and the Roller’s Recess worked like a charm. Layback rolls were effortless because I could get my torso and head right up against the aft deck.

If you have to bail out of the King after a capsize, you won’t just fall out. To clear the thigh-brace flanges I had to lead one leg ahead of the other. It is important to practice wet exits until they become second nature, and that’s especially true of kayaks with snug-fitting cockpits. After a wet exit I could empty most of the water from the cockpit by swimming to the bow and pushing it up over my head. The cockpit would drain and the King would flop upright with just a bit of water still aboard but not enough to warrant pumping out. The low aft deck made re-entries easy. I could lunge aboard, straddle the kayak, and get into the cockpit seat-first. In flat water I didn’t need to resort to a paddle-float outrigger to stabilize the King for re-entry. Dale’s King didn’t have deck lines to hold a paddle as an outrigger, but they could easily be added.

I managed to get through my sea trials with the King without marring its varnish. While handling such a finely finished boat on land made me tense, the King’s performance on the water put me quite at ease. I’d be happy to paddle a King again, even if it were painted olive drab.

The plans for the King come with full-sized templates for the stems and 16 molds. The 36 pages of instructions are clearly, if sparely written. I suspect what Joe knows about building kayaks could fill a good-sized book. While the color photographs that illustrate the book show several design motifs, Joe leaves the artistic side of the kayak to the builder.

It’s likely that people drawn to a Redfish kayak will fall under the spell of Joe’s artistry. It would be a shame to keep a kayak like the King on carpet-padded racks and away from the grit and gravel that are inevitable in getting a kayak to the water. If you build or buy an eye-catching King, have someone you care for give the varnish its first scratch so you’ll have a pleasant association with the inevitable scars, then get over it and go paddle the damn kayak.

Redfish Kayak specializes in kits and plans for a range of strip-planked paddle craft. The King has plenty of volume for gear stowage, yet is fast and responsive.

Plans and kits are available from Redfish Custom Kayak & Canoe Co. This Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2009 and appears here as archival material. If you have more information about this boat, plan or design – please let us know in the comment section.

The Asa Thomson skiff holds quiet appeal. Appreciation for this little skiff comes on slowly but deeply, like true and enduring love. She’s a culmination of a number of elegant and subtle factors that, while not strikingly obvious, come together in a compact craft that is well balanced in look and in feel.

Asa Thomson was a New Bedford, Massachusetts, boatbuilder who clearly had a great deal of experience in skiffs. His design, devoid of any “wow” factor, has all the attributes of a craft born of lifelong learning. On a recent outing to Cape Cod, I came across a lovely and well-maintained Asa Thomson skiff that had been impeccably built by Pease Boatworks and Marine Railway in Chatham, Massachusetts. Her name is COOKIE. One look and I wanted a bite.

A flag-snapping breeze riffled the surface as my friend and I rowed around Pleasant Bay, near Chatham. In line with what I had noticed while looking at her plans over the years, the Asa Thomson skiff is high-bowed for a boat of such diminutive size. This gives her a jaunty sheer and plenty of freeboard amidships. While this perky little turned-up snout does cause her bow to blow off somewhat, it also provides an added sense of security. My guess is that she was originally designed for clamming, qua-hogging, and fishing around the New Bedford area. The wet-well, located under the ’midship seat, also indicates this use. High, secure-feeling sides and a flat bottom are good for this type of work. The wet-well, which adds strength to the boat, can instead be made to be a dry-well and, rather than stowing an afternoon’s catch, can be used to hold gear or a picnic lunch.

Karen Wales

..

Trying to put my finger on what makes this design so special, I have been able to pick out a few of the wonderfully correct features (at least to my eye) that make this boat worth building. First, there is the profile of the bottom. The aft end of the bottom sweeps up to just clear the water for easy propulsion with oars or a very small outboard (no more than 3 hp, I’d say). This skiff rows so easily that I think very few would opt for the complications, cost, and smell of an outboard. COOKIE’s owner rows her exclusively. While the aft sweep clears the water, the straight, almost level bottom profile forward reduces pounding and helps to keep the bow from blowing off in a crosswind. This reminds me of what I have heard some old-timers say for achieving good tracking under oars: “Trim by the bow going upwind, and trim by the stern going downwind.”

Another great feature is her scantlings (size of the pieces that go into building her). Many small boats are constructed with wood as it comes from the lumberyard, with little attention to proper thicknessing. Although it may be easier to round-up a specified thickness to the next standard dimension, this leads to awkward-looking details and adds considerably to a boat’s weight. Particularly when dealing with a boat of this size, a little goes a long way. Proper proportioning of each piece is as important to good looks as putting them together well and employing tasteful details. Asa Thomson’s scantlings are just right: strong enough for the skiff’s intended use and its understated elegance. The glitz and glitter of a fancy finish can
never make an awkward detail look good. Rounding corners off with a router takes away the definition of the curves and edges that make this boat so pleasing to the eye. Keeping
to the sizes shown also will keep the weight down so this boat can be car-topped when needed. I would urge any would-be builder to please stick with the scantlings shown on the plans. You’ll be glad you did.

Karen Wales

Traditionally built, the Asa Thomson skiff weighs 125–150 lbs. Plywood construction makes COOKIE, a lot lighter and renders her immediately usable upon launching since there’s no waiting for wood to swell. She is trailerable and is easily lifted and launched by two people.

While I believe that remaining faithful to the scantlings will produce the best results, there is one major modification that I would recommend: building the bottom with marine-grade plywood, say, 3⁄8″ thick. Using plywood will ensure a water-tight bottom despite long periods ashore. Asa Thomson’s original, double-planked bottom with muslin between the layers will also be watertight, but it weighs considerably more than the plywood alternative, which is about 40 percent lighter. Asa Thomson designed and built his original skiff before high-quality marine plywood was readily available. As smart as he was, I have to believe that if he were with us today, he might consider this alternative, too. Pease Boatworks gave COOKIE plywood sides as well as a plywood bottom. One of their driving factors was that the garboard strake is so wide that finding natural wood (at least 14″ wide) was difficult and prohibitively expensive. For them, plywood seemed the logical choice.

Another characteristic I appreciate is the amount of flare of this boat’s sides. It achieves the necessary width at the rail while keeping moderate width at the bottom, helping to make her easy to row. The flaring sides also contribute greatly to the boat’s stability as she sinks deeper in the water under heavier loads.

Finally, the bow and stern are in complete harmony with each other. The rake of the transom perfectly complements the overhang and the beautiful curvature of the stem.

When I started out in boatbuilding (more years ago than I’m willing to relate), I spent considerable time looking at the lines of the Asa Thomson skiff. While the plans are adequate for an experienced builder, they can intimidate the beginner. When I was new to boatbuilding and woodworking, I found her plans to be incomplete for my needs.

So, I moved on, instead building the Yankee Tender (a series of them), another smart-looking and well-per-forming flat-bottomed skiff inspired by the Asa Thomson design. I feel that it’s worth mentioning the Yankee Tender here because my familiarity with it has shed some light on how a beginner might approach building the Asa Thomson skiff. While these are somewhat different boats, they have many similarities in construction. The plans for the Yankee Tender offer a wealth of useful measurements, detail drawings, and building advice for the novice; they even include an illustrated guide to plank spiling. A lot of the tips, techniques, and examples found in the Yankee Tender’s plans can be directly applied to the Asa Thomson skiff and would be of use to any novice who wishes to build one.

Karen Wales

Students at WoodenBoat School learn traditional building techniques in a class taught by John Karbott. The Asa Thomson skiff’s simplicity, lapstrake planking, and sawn frames make it an excellent project for the first-time boatbuilder.

The Asa Thomson skiff will admirably serve a number of different uses. With her good initial stability and roominess for her length, she will be the envy of the usual work skiffs. These same features and her ease of rowing make her the ideal small boat for giving children and grandchildren their first lessons in boat handling and care. As a tender to a small, coastwise cruiser, she has it hands-down over those inflatable bathtubs you see. She can carry crew and duffel bags with ease and elegance. When push comes to shove and you absolutely have to set that second or third anchor out to windward in a hard breeze, she will get you there with authority under oars alone. This is a safety consideration seldom thought of when an inflatable is purchased.

Perhaps her best purpose, though, is as a feast for the senses. Quietly, uneventfully, COOKIE disappears to the far reach of the harbor. I am left with the impression that I have spent an afternoon with a refined and delightful lady. She is a thing of beauty, and, as it has been said, “a thing of beauty is a joy forever.” So true of this humble gem.

The profile view shows harmony among the stem, sheer, and transom. The plan view (bottom) gives a good indication of the boat’s flare, which contributes to its roominess and stability.

This Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2009 and appears here as archival material. Plans are available from the WoodenBoat Store for $20 (as of 2022)

Most “honest” sailors (is that an oxymoron?) will admit to having flirted with a one-design class. With the combined appeals of match and fleet racing, of innovation and “interpretation” of the rules, of cutting-edge technology and long-steeped traditions, one-design racing enriches sailing on a completely different plane than just pottering about the harbor in any old boat. That dream of building a one-design and then campaigning her is merely a rich fantasyland for most of us, and fulfilled for very few.

The boat presented here is intended to offer this possibility to the rest of us. She is a high-tech, cutting-edge, extreme racing machine with a serious nod to history and tradition, buildable by amateurs, affordable, and transportable, with the potential for class events and the promise of fun whether sailing alone or in the fleet.

This new 16/30 class sailing canoe is the product of a long-term project on the part of John Summers, General Manager at the Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough, Ontario. He designed the canoe while at the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York. The ABM has a long standing as a bastion of the mahogany speedboat crowd, but it deserves at least equal stature as both a repository and an enthusiastic reproducer of classic small craft. The fact that Clayton and the Thousand Islands region have long been the hotbed of sailing canoe development (see sidebar) led Summers to a natural interest in promoting the type. A survey of existing boats and enthusiasts exposed, however, a situation without much promise for growth: owners were reluctant to bash their lovingly restored antiques around the buoys, reproductions were challenging and therefore expensive to build, and the bloody things were difficult and uncomfortable to sail.

To have a chance of reinvigorating the class, the world needed a sailing canoe that was easily and inexpensively built, could be sailed by a wide range of sailors, and was a true one-design (i.e., the boats would be well matched). Not content with that set of apparently limiting parameters, let’s throw in the desire to have the design based on a boat from the glory days of the class, say a century or so ago.

Geoff Kerr

No racing boat is complete without a competitor, and several 16/30s were built in a workshop at the Antique Boat Museum.

Summers based the concept for the new 16/30 class on a boat built by the Gilbert Boat Company of Brockville, Ontario, one of a number built circa 1920 for the Gananoque Canoe Club from the Canadian side of the Thousand Islands. He found the archetype pre-served in the collection of Heritage Toronto and was able to visit and document the boat in 2004. Longtime sailing canoe builder, sailor, and pied piper Dan Sutherland took up the gauntlet at this point, and from John’s data built the prototype of the new class, STORMY SKY ES. Her debut at the ABM’s Antique Boat Show in 2006 proved her a great success, both as a sailboat and a prize-winning crowd pleaser. The next step was to make her duplication possible by the masses.

First, her lines were converted to “analog” plywood patterns for stitch-and-glue construction, STORMY SKY ES having been constructed in “traditional plywood” style with frames, chine logs, and sheer clamps. Then a week-long workshop was offered at ABM to produce several new hulls at once—an instant fleet, if you will. Chesapeake Light Craft digitized the panels and CNC-cut the needed batch of hull kits. Sails were designed and built by Douglas Fowler of Ithaca, New York, to complement the carbon-fiber masts developed for the boats by Tony DeLima of ForteRTS.

The resulting boats are reasonably true to the originals, and with a traditionally inspired finish job they could look at home on the Sugar Island float. The hulls are hard-chined and fully decked, with a small cockpit—really a footwell—that is self-draining through the daggerboard slot. The boat is steered by a Norwegian tiller rig, with a side arm on the rudderhead connected by a push/pull rod to an athwartships tiller. The hull construction is of 6mm and 3mm marine plywood, epoxy glued and sheathed in ’glass, with multiple bulkheads that stiffen the hull, support the decks, and create watertight compartments for positive buoyancy. Building the hull would be a similar-sized job to a large stitch-and-glue kayak, with the added challenge of complex but small-scale framing adventures in way of the cockpit.

The History of Sailing Canoes

Sailing canoes and cruising and racing in them date back to the mid-19th century. The first decked canoes built specifically for recreational sailing appeared in Great Britain in 1868, closely following the establishment of the Royal Canoe Club in 1866. Within a very few years, the boats had been discovered in the United States, with the New York Canoe Club being founded in 1871. By 1890, there were upwards of two dozen recognized canoe clubs on the U.S. East Coast. The American Canoe Association (ACA) was formed and held its first annual camping and sailing gathering in 1880. Sugar Island, near Clayton in the Thousand Islands, became the permanent home of the ACA gatherings in 1902. Such gatherings became boating and society happenings both in North America and in the U.K. International challenge racing was so competitive that new boats were designed and built every year, and those boats shipped hither and yon and across the pond. Paul Butler, an enthusiast from Lowell, Massachusetts, was the driving force behind many of the key features that made the boats popular, championing bulkheads for buoyancy, and by all accounts inventing or at least adapting the cross-sliding seat, Norwegian tiller steering, hollow spars, and the self-draining cockpit. By 1890, these improvements in survivability and manageability had led to such interest that the 16/30 racing class was established, with a complex rule resulting in a number of designs that were generally 16′ long by 30″ wide (hence the name), with a 90-sq-ft sail area.

The ultimate modern evolution of the sailing canoe is the IC class…recognizably a 16/30 on steroids. Come to think of it, design-enhancing substances must have been around back in the day as well. Check out WB No. 164 for an account of the “88” class of super canoes. –GK

Geoff Kerr

John Summers designed the 16/30 canoe to be built with off-the-shelf hardware, requiring no complex casting or custom work to drive up the cost of construction.

The rig is really quite simple: there just appears to be a lot of it on such a small platform. She is set up as a cat-ketch. The unstayed masts are stepped through tubes built into the decks. As well as keeping the watertight compartments inviolate, these tubes make rigging the boat on the beach child’s play. Luff sleeves on the sails (the same system used in Lasers) both refine aero-dynamics and eliminate a bagful of hardware and line. Continuous sheets for both sails lead on deck to cam cleats at the cockpit, mounted just forward of the skipper both port and starboard, allowing instant one-handed sail control on both tacks. Off-the-shelf rudder hardware is used to hang the small but efficient wooden rudder, and the daggerboard, also of wood, is simplicity itself— jam it down into the slot, and off we go. The most significant characteristic of the 16/30s is the sliding hiking board, or “thwartships sliding seat” as it is called in period literature. In spite of its forbidding appearance, it is actually the civilizing feature of this design, making the boat comfortable (even for a large “mature” adult) and far less strenuous to sail than those rigged with knee and abdominal-trashing hiking straps.

This design and setup contribute to a logistically manageable boat. She can be transported on a very light trailer by a very light vehicle, or loaded on a cartop rack by a couple of reasonably able adults. Throw the spars up there too, and the rest of the gear is small, light, and easily packed away, leaving room in most vehicles (though regrettably not in the boat) for the cooler and companions. With one of those companions, or a “Tom Sawyer’s fence” onlooker, you can easily carry her to the beach for rigging and launching.

Our real quest is the sailing, though, so let’s have a look. The skipper stays on the hiking board, because: (a) there is no other place to go and (b) anywhere else would spell a swim. With one’s feet in the footwell on either side of the hiking board, everything you need is at hand: the mizzen and main sheets just forward, and the cross-arm tiller poised aft. The steering is very light, a combination of a nicely balanced rig, great leverage, and a small rudder. The unusual-looking steering system is really very simple and quite natural in use…just don’t look at it while underway! The sheet loads are minimal, a function of small sails and mechanical advantage, although the number of feet of line squirming around in the footwell is quite impressive and somehow tends to end up long on one tack and short on the other. That will make for an interesting jibe around the mark someday. The boat is responsive to sail and crew trim, to say the least, but well within the realm of small, light sailing craft. The 34″ beam and hard chines give her a greater initial stability than many (I’d bet all) of the other classic 16/30 designs.

Trimming the boat is easy and natural. The trick is to shift the board all the way to windward while tacking, then to slide yourself in and out as necessary while sailing. No great effort is required, you’ll suffer no grooves in you buns, and you will have time to concentrate on sail trim, steering, and tactics without desperately clinging to the boat. I’d call her far better mannered than the other sailing canoes I’ve endured, and in many ways more comfortable, better behaved, and far more intriguing than many of the modern one-design dinghies foisted on the competitive-minded sailing public. I like to think of 16/30 sailing as a dance rather than an athletic endeavor.

The most difficult and awkward moment in sailing this boat is the transition from beach to sailing…shall we call it the mount and dismount? The usual shallow-water daggerboard and rudder bugaboos apply (why does the wind always blow onto the beach?) and with a hull that is extremely sensitive to the first step, I’ll predict a few swims at bathtub depth. That said, my dignity and dry shirt survived a day of demo sails. Take a deep cleansing breath, tread lightly, and distract the audience.

Geoff Kerr

The sliding seat keeps the helmsman’s ballast weight where it needs to be, and allows rapid adjustment—while still keeping control of the sheets and the tiller.

A major part of the appeal of a 16/30 as a project is that Summers and the ABM have gone to great lengths to make it amateur-friendly. The large-size high-quality drawings are accompanied by an enthusiastic manual of more than 30 pages that includes historic photos; discussions of useful tools, books, and materials; step-by-step instructions with illustrations; and something very rare, a list of sources and part numbers for hardware, materials, and equipment. Much of the work of matching specifications and sourcing materials that could bog down a novice has been done, eliminating, for example, the sometimes fruitless (though sometimes really intriguing) pursuit of custom hardware. Knowing in advance that a call to ForteRTS for masts, to Douglas Fowler for sails, and even to Chesapeake Light Craft for precut plywood hull panels will put you days ahead of the game is a great comfort.

I’d now like to offer some minor caveats here. Some of the recommended sources and materials for the hull construction are not my favorites. No one is steering you wrong, but do not be afraid to ask and shop around. While you are building, I’d suggest ’glassing the deck as well as the hull, enhancing its stiffness, durability, and the life of the finish. When I build mine, I’ll stare long and hard at the transom, hoping for inspiration and new hardware so she could be truly double-ended. Finally, in converting to stitch-and-glue construction, I’m puzzled that inner and outer stems endured. Not only are these vestiges of traditional construction a challenge for novice builders, but a filleted and taped stem joint serves the stitch-and- glue world successfully in all scales.

A philosophical note is in order regarding one-designs and their convenient standardization. The 16/30 world welcomes one and all, for the more boats the merrier. That means there is room for individual expression in the building of these boats. The boats can be clunkers or professionally sculpted icons, and depending on craftsmanship and finish work they can look like modern rocket ships or century-old antiques. Wooden spars, polished bronze blocks, stained decks, and myriad other choices could make for a show-stopper. Just be a good sport and keep the hull shape and sails true to class, or the other kids might not let you play with them when you show up at the No-Octane Regatta, The Mid-Atlantic Small Craft Festival, or the ABM Antique Boat Show. See you there!

Simple construction using 6mm and 3mm okoume plywood and an uncomplicated rigging plan make the 16/30 canoe easily within range of an amateur builder. The thoroughly detailed instruction book will help in that regard, as well.

This Boat Profile was published in Small Boats 2009 and appears here as archival material. If you have more information about this boat, plan or design – please let us know in the comment section.