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Christophe Matson

François Vivier designed the 14’6” Ilur for daysailing and camp cruising. He drew the boat originally with a lug rig, and added the mizzen seen here on WAXWING for owner-builder John Hartmann.

WAXWING, John Hartmann’s newly launched Ilur design from the drawing board of Fran-çois Vivier, caught my attention in Maine last summer when I spotted her at anchor off a Muscongus Bay island one August evening. We were both camp-cruising, on our way to the Small Reach Regatta, and the next day found us happily sailing in company as we headed to the Audubon Camp at Hog Island. As is often the case with great boats on a gorgeous day, we took the long way every chance we got. Upon arrival at the camp, I quickly found my way to the float and introduced myself to John and his wife, Gabrielle. An invitation to go for a sail in WAXWING ensued, and the wonders of a really fine design were revealed.

Ilur is one of Vivier’s most successful sail-and-oar designs (see WB No. 212). She is a small boat, just 14′ 6″, but will fool even experienced builders into thinking she is much larger. Perhaps channeling Arthur Ran-some, Vivier drew her beamy, full-bodied, and deep, with a nearly plumb stem, a flat, near-vertical transom, high freeboard, and a flattish sheer. These traits are typically a recipe for a dumpy, inelegant tub, so the fact that Vivier has blended them in a lovely combination is a triumph of his mantra that a sailing boat must be a coherent whole. This was one of his first designs for amateur builders, and she was originally designed for strip construction—the then-current technology. The present day ubiquity of quality plywood and epoxy con-struction techniques have allowed her to be redesigned for glued lapstrake construction. That’s how WAXWING was built.

The beam and freeboard combine to create a capacious hull with ample room for adults. This is achieved by tak-ing advantage of the hull shape, and using deep floors and supports for the relatively high floorboards. When the height of the floorboards is raised in a design it usu-ally contributes to a wider, longer, and more useful liv-ing area. Many designs I’ve considered are constrained by narrow beam, or low freeboard, or have simply dis-counted the possibility that sailors might like more sitting, standing, or sleeping space. The nearly plumb stem and transom maximize Ilur’s waterline length, making her punch well above her class in hull speed.

The interior layout is remarkable for having con-siderable built-in structure and flotation while retain-ing an open feeling and function. Seating is provided by slip thwarts (stowable when desired, if one wishes to lounge about on the floorboards or sleep), and an aft-deck and side-bench arrangement that combine a storage locker with flotation chambers to create a traditional stern sheets configuration. The forward end of the interior is open, with the main mast part-ner built into the short foredeck. The impression of open space is compounded by the relatively low appear-ance of the centerboard trunk, another advantage of the great depth of the floors, so a large portion of the trunk’s height is below the floorboards. This depth is also manifested in the absolutely brilliant storage lock-ers to be found below the floorboards. I know I turned a bit green as John casually lifted a floorboard and the 8′ oars disappeared. A little sleuthing revealed that the bilge pump, boathook, and anchor and rode were also standing by, out of sight and out from underfoot.

WAXWING has a striking rig. While Ilur routinely fea-tures a standing lug or a lug sloop rig, Hartmann asked Vivier for a balance lug yawl version. The designer has provided a really large main, which in combination with convenient and prudent reefing offers versatility not found in many small-boat designs. The small mizzen delights the eye, helps balance the steering, and offers cruisers big-boat capabilities such as easily heaving-to, and a riding sail for quiet anchoring. A further big-boat advantage is the large duck-free zone this rig creates, allowing adult skippers to tack and jibe with dignity.

François Vivier

The yawl rig on the previous page is only the most recent of several that Viver has drawn for Ilur. The others include the original standing lug, a balance (boomed; shown here) lug, and two balance lug sloops (one with a bowsprit and jib, and one without).

WAXWING was built using a kit provided by Hewes & Company of Blue Hill, Maine, Vivi-er’s U.S. licensee. The accurately CNC-cut okoume plywood parts included planks, bulkheads, frames, stem, transom, centerboard, and rudder com-ponents, as well as the molds and building frame cut from non-marine ply. Potential builders should note the need to choose and supply natural lumber for the seats, floorboards, spars, and trim. Those builders will also need to obtain their own epoxy, hardware, paints, and sails, and a set of plans from the designer. Note that plans are also available for the scratch builder, and include full-sized Mylar patterns.

While this is a pretty standard glued lapstrake hull, the construction sequence differs a bit in the kit ver-sion. The box-girder strongback and construction molds combine with the permanent bulkheads to allow for much of the interior structure (longitudinal bulk-heads, centerboard trunk, and so forth) to be built-in before planking. This allows a much stiffer and more nearly completed boat once it’s turned off the molds. While the kit builder has a great advantage in precut planks, one should note that you will still have to bevel the laps and cut gains in the ends, and that due to the shape of the hull and the traditional aesthetic there are a lot of planks here. It may take a while!

The remainder of the construction and fitting out is straightforward and of a very reasonable scale. The builder has many opportunities for personal expression through the choice of woods, paint scheme, hardware styles, and so forth. Hartmann enriched his experience immensely by designing and patterning his own mast gate for casting by a local foundry. Also of particular note is the builder’s hollow boomkin design, a delightful bit of functional whimsy. His rigging choices (manila-colored Dyneema line) not only enable her intended usage as a versatile daysailer and camp-cruiser, but also reflect the overall finish and aesthetic. He’s designated WAXWING a “varnish-free zone,” choosing an oil finish to highlight the locust and larch details. He has also detailed her with a subtle but striking paint scheme, including a flash of yellow at the transom that mimics the eponymous bird. Study the accompanying photo-graphs, and note how the contrasting sheer plank and the thin edge of the caprail successfully minimize the appearance of the high freeboard.

John Hartmann

John Hartmann made the patterns for this bronze mast gate, and had the fitting cast at a local foundry. The gate allows the main mast to be stepped quickly and easily.

My overall impression of WAXWING underway is of gracious comfort and competence. The big rig and long waterline give her surprising speed for a 14′ boat, letting her keep company with Sea Pearls and Caledonias. The mainsail is simple to hoist, and once it’s up, its easily adjusted tack downhaul keeps the sail under control while the sprit boom is set. Such maneuvers are ever so much more dignified aboard a yawl with the mizzen set first and sheeted in flat.

She is well balanced and well behaved, certainly sen-sitive to crew trim, but not demanding of much jump-ing about. The floorboard height previously mentioned sits very well, finding me happy to lean against the rail with my PFD cushioning me in a sweet spot for a long tack. When we did tack, the low centerboard trunk pre-sented no obstacle at all. I actually wasn’t tempted to sit up on a thwart or even to take the helm because the experience was just so comfortable and gracious. I did finally concede my comfort to the need to row into a windless cove to pick up our mooring. Nice long oars for the generous beam coupled with a modest wetted surface mean she is a lovely pulling boat, on the rare occasions that there is insufficient breeze for her large sail area. Vivier notes that he began to drift toward better performance under sail than under oar in this design, but I’d say he has nothing to be ashamed of.

John Hartmann

Ilur’s bilge has enough space beneath the floorboards to store oars and a boathook—a great victory in the fight against clutter.

After my outing aboard WAXWING, I had several occasions over the next few weeks to observe her underway in a variety of conditions, including both big water and sheltered, calms and reefed. She is an able, comfortable, and attractive beauty. More impor-tant, though, let us consider when and where I got to enjoy her, for she was spending a late summer month in Maine waters. Her owners sampled the joys of group outings at the Small Reach Regatta (40 boats full of like-minded friends!), camp-cruised a bit going to and from the event, then trailered her farther downeast to Brooklin, where Gabrielle was taking a sailing class at WoodenBoat School. WAXWING’s curb appeal was so great that fellow students and, truth be told, their instructors, insisted on launching her for inclusion in one of the class outings. Then John and Gabrielle spent the following week in a rented cottage, daysail-ing on Penobscot Bay. I’d say this is the best evidence of a good design: using it to the fullest in its intended purpose, and loving it.

To order plans or request more information, contact François Vivier, www.vivierboats.com.

François Vivier

Particulars
LOA 14′ 5″
LWL 13′ 5″
Beam 5′ 7″
Draft (board up) 10″
(board down) 2′ 10″
Sail area
standing lug 131 sq ft
sloop 151 sq ft
yawl 133 sq ft

François Vivier

François Vivier offers plans for Ilur—as well as kits. The kits are cut and sold by Hewes & Co of Blue Hill, Maine (https://hewesandcompanyinc.com/marine/).

Kelley Webster

For the design of MALU, Michael Jones was inspired by Clark Mills’s popular Windmill design. Mills was an early mentor to the designer.

Back in 1926, before hurricanes had names, a big one struck Miami. The storm surge drowned 200 people and deposited fine yachts, commercial vessels, and a five-masted schooner in city streets. What came to be called The Great Miami Hurricane then swirled across Florida. On the Gulf Coast, the winds uprooted many tin signs advertising real estate. That storm put an end to Florida’s latest land boom and scattered those “For Sale” signs far and wide. An 11-year-old boy discovered some of them, rolled and battered, in the woods near his Clearwater house. That’s how Clark Mills got his start building boats.

“Clark found,” wrote Florida boatbuilder Tom Mayers, “that if he carefully straightened the sheets of metal out and used wood supports at the seams, a child with the tin, wood strips, nails, and a little roofing tar could make a small rectangular boat that floated.”

Years later, when he was 32 years old in 1947, Clark Mills designed another rectangular boat. This one was plywood, and it was intended for a new youth sailing program begun by the Clearwater Optimist Club. “I really didn’t progress much in my design, did I?” the ever self-effacing Mills said to Mayers. The Optimist Pram eventually became an international class, and a half million are estimated to have been built thus far. But, created for kids 8 to 15 years old, the Optimist raised an obvious question. What would young sailors graduate to when they outgrew the Opti?

The answer emerged in 1953 in the form of a speedy, V-bottomed one-design, intended, Mills said, “to be the leanest, meanest, go-to-hell sailboat [the kids] could get.” At 15′ 6″, the plywood boat was less expensive to build than a like-sized, plank-on-frame Snipe. What’s more, Mills developed it with economical, amateur construction in mind. He called his design the Windmill. “It was just the dad-gumdest boat that ever I was in,” a local skipper and boatbuilder known as Captain Cherokee told Mills after trouncing a variety of established classes at a race.

Kelley Webster

MALU is meant to be less demanding to sail than the Windmill. The new boat has a springier sheer and a straight stem—traits borrowed from working sharpies.

Tarpon Springs, about 17 miles up the road from Clearwater, is where Michael Jones grew up during the 1960s. There was a vibrant wooden-boat world in that part of Florida then. The city’s Greek sponge fishermen were still using adzes and hand tools to build their vessels. Ten miles south of Tarpon Springs lived the Sage of Dunedin, John Hanna, designer of the famed Tahiti ketch. Drawn to boats, Jones became a Sea Scout. He learned to caulk, repaired an old 10′ dinghy, and sailed into the Gulf of Mexico until Florida was out of sight. He crewed on a speedy Windmill and worked on a fishing boat. One day a friend showed him a copy of Howard Chapelle’s American Small Sailing Craft. “That did it,” Jones said. “I was on the road to ruin.”

During his college years, Jones worked part-time in construction and later built homes together with a partner. He made good money but missed the road to ruin. “I told my partner I wanted out,” he remembered. “In 1979, I traded a piece of property for a 37′ Geiger-designed yawl and moved aboard. One day, I met a guy I’d built a house for. He asked me to go to Antigua and oversee the Starling Burgess–designed 10-Meter yacht he owned.” Jones’s success with the 10-Meter led to another project, and then more.

In 1981, Jones followed his road to a job at Clear water Bay Marine Ways, home to Clark Mills Boatbuilding. That’s how Jones got to know “Clarkie.” “He became,” said Jones of Clark Mills, “a great friend and mentor. We would sit in his drafting room and look at his half models, and he would tell stories.” These days, Jones works independently on a variety of high-end projects. His desire for a new small boat resulted in the craft featured here. He considered a variety of traditional flat-bottomed sailing skiffs and sharpies before turning to plans he had for the Windmill.

“The V-bottom,” concluded Jones, “makes better structural sense and a better, or at least faster sailing boat when heeled. I knew from experience that it would be a fast bottom. The other consideration was time. The plywood V-bottomed hull will go together quickly, compared to the planked hulls I’d been considering.” Still, Jones understood that the lean, mean Windmill would need modification to suit his needs. “The boat was too quick for my purpose. It wasn’t something non-sailing friends would enjoy, but it did have a connection to the local waters and my past.”

Michael Jones

A kickup rudder and centerboard allow drama-free beaching, while the lack of boom allows for docile jibes.

Jones began sketching an evolution of the Windmill, a boat that would be less demanding and more practical for daysailing. After studying Chapelle’s drawings of working sharpies, Jones decided his boat would have a straight stem rather than the Windmill’s curved bow. He added more sheer, too, and the topsides took on something of a 19th-century workboat look. Jones’s boat is almost 2′ longer and a half-foot wider than a Windmill. He replaced the Windmill’s tall mast and standing rigging with a lower, free-standing sprit rig, and crafted a pair of elegant, leather-lined supports to cradle the hollow varnished spars when trailering.

Jones built MALU—named for a favorite family Airedale—using okoume plywood, 3⁄8″ for the bottom, and scarfed-together ¼” panels for the sides and the longitudinal air tanks. The latter are an important safety-related feature carried over from the Windmill. Epoxy and stainless-steel staples were used to join the plywood to the Spanish cedar keel, stringers, chines, and gun-wale. “It’s a faster process than using screws,” Jones said, “which are really unneeded, permanent clamps in an epoxy boat.”

Clark Mills once joked that when he was in water over 3′ deep, he was “off-soundings.” Jones’s boat has a centerboard, more complex to build than a Windmill’s daggerboard, but much more practical for a daysailer. The completed hull was coated with epoxy, and the inside of the centerboard trunk received a layer of fiberglass cloth for added protection. “I didn’t use ’glass cloth on the hull,” Jones said, “but it might be worth the extra time and weight if the sailing area and conditions warranted. With sandy shores, I kept it simple.”

MALU’s flawless AwlGrip paint job took longer to apply than building the boat. Three primer coats were used and all imperfections were carefully filled and sanded. A friend, skilled with a spray gun, helped Jones with the paint job. It’s easy to mistake MALU for a glossy, fiberglass boat. Jones estimates that building MALU would consume 250 to 300 hours of labor depending on the level of finish desired.

Michael Jones

The new design has ample and well-considered stowage, including these under-thwart lockers.

We went sailing aboard MALU on a beautiful March day in Florida’s Pine Island Sound. Dotted inshore with mangrove-fringed islands, the Sound is fascinating for both its wildlife and its wide expanses of grassy flats, about a foot deep at low tide. MALU meets one of the most important rules regarding boat selection: Choose a design appropriate for local waters.

This V-bottomed boat is reasonably stable when stepping aboard, and Jones was comfortable in putting one foot on the side deck as he rigged the sprit. As we tacked our way over the clearly visible bottom, the absence of a conventional boom made for pleasant maneuvering, with no worries about a whack up beside the head. Jones retained the hiking straps of the Wind-mill, a useful feature given that the spritsail doesn’t lend itself to reefing underway. “I hike out when sailing closehauled and single handed in wind above 10 mph,” he said. “That keeps the boat flat for optimal speed.” Like the Windmill’s side decks, MALU’s are smooth and there’s no thigh-pinching coaming to make hiking uncomfortable. This is primarily a two-person boat, but Jones has had three adults aboard and says that MALU didn’t feel overburdened. Good judgment would be the best policy here.

In light air, MALU moved out smartly enough under her mainsail. Only a light touch was needed on the tiller. Setting the jib gave an immediate boost in speed at the expense of visibility. Windmill sails have windows in them, an advantage on most small boats. MALU has a wide thwart abaft the centerboard trunk. Like the helm seat, this one has useful storage underneath it, and very nice, snap-on cushions. There’s room behind the helm thwart for a cooler.

Jones has kept his boat simple, and the more one sails, the more one appreciates simplicity. Aside from the AwlGrip paint, there’s little here that couldn’t be fixed or maintained at home with some epoxy, a couple of tools, a knife, and the contents of a ditty bag. This boat would be an interesting proposition for those seeking a fast daysailer with a traditional look and rig. It’s adapted from a speedy one-design, but has about it a flavor of the past, and a taste for always fascinating skinny waters.

Plans for MALU are available from Jones Boatworks, www.jonesboatworks.com.

MALU Particulars
LOA 17′ 4″
Beam 5′ 2″
Draft 6′ 2″
Sail area 150 sq ft

With its sheet-plywood construction and sprit rig, this design is a study in simplicity.

Lance Pamperin

A sandbox with a sail? The Puddle Duck racer may be humble in appearance, but it gets people on the water quickly for satisfying sailing.

It’s easy to be dismissive of the Puddle Duck Racer when you first see it. I usually describe the slab-sided 8′ × 4′ boat as a sandbox with rocker, a description that’s not entirely tongue-in-cheek. And yet, among its builders, who proudly refer to themselves as Puddle Duckers, this boxiest of all box boats has achieved a degree of popularity that is difficult to understand—until you try sailing one. The truth is, despite their boxy, unsophisticated looks, Puddle Ducks are pretty darn fun.

Of course, not everyone is able to suspend judgment long enough to make this discovery, something that Puddle Duck designer David “Shorty” Routh is well aware of. “They kind of look at it and say, ‘That’s not a real boat,’” he admits. But the Puddle Duck’s ultra-simple appearance is quite purposeful. “Really, I’m trying to pull in new people to get them to go in the direction of building wooden boats,” Routh explains. “The Duck is kind of like the free candy you give out to get people addicted. It had to be very unassuming looking, so anyone would look at it and think, ‘Yeah, I could probably build something like that.’”

The Puddle Duck succeeds brilliantly on that score. It’s probably not absolutely the easiest boat in the world to build—hulls with at least some flare can actually come together in the shop a little more easily—but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that to someone who has never built a boat before, someone intimidated by curves and bevels, the Puddle Duck looks simpler than other boats. And its flat-bottomed glue-and-screw construction does make it a very simple, fast build. When I talked my brother into building hull No. 892 for his kids, he was able to finish it in just five evenings, spending well under $200 (we reused the rudder, daggerboard, mast, and standing lug rig from another boat).

Tom Pamperin

With a buoyancy chamber built into each side of the boat, a Puddle Duck is easy to right after a capsize.

David Routh has no formal training in boat design, but he has spent a lot of time sailing and racing, and he knew what he was after when he created the Puddle Duck Racer in 2003: a way to get more people having fun sailing without needing to spend much money. But he wanted something more formal than the typical messabouts he started attending in the 1990s, which he says were “like a bunch of cats wandering around.” What he needed was a cheap, easy-to-build racing class that would provide an excuse for people to actually sail together, instead of just walking along the beach admiring each other’s boats. The Puddle Duck was his answer.

Routh describes the Puddle Duck as a developmental one-design class. The lower 10″ of each hull must be identical, with the same beam, length, rocker, and vertical sides. At official Puddle Duck events, each hull is measured to make sure it is class legal (a ¼” builder’s tolerance is allowed, and hulls that fail are allowed to compete with a penalty). Everything apart from the hull, though—rig, rudder, foils, sheer, superstructure (yes, there have been Ducks with usable cabins), and interior layout—is fair game for experimentation.

And while the Duck’s basic shape looks crude, there’s more going on with that boxy hull than might be immediately apparent. The rocker is more extreme at the ends, but flattens out in the middle—an attempt to blend the characteristics of a displacement hull and a planing hull. As a result, the boat sails better than it seems to deserve, reaching speeds up to 6 mph off the wind without too much fuss. The fastest recorded Ducker so far is Kenny Giles, who has hit 9.2 mph by GPS, using a 59-sq-ft leg-o’-mutton rig on a windy day.

“I really like the idea of having your building skills be part of the competition,” Routh says of his rules, which attempt to strike a middle ground between the arms race of open-class racing and the tight strictures of one-design classes. “It’s not about the limitations of the rules, it’s about the creativity of everything else.”

As a result of the class’s intentional openness, each Duck is laid out a bit differently within the basic shared hull shape. But it’s the rig where the developmental aspect of the class is most obvious. I’ve seen gaff-sloop Ducks, leg-o’-mutton Ducks, balance-lug Ducks, Chinese lug Ducks, lateen Ducks, standing-lug Ducks, sprit-sail Ducks, Ducks with repurposed windsurfing rigs, and one Duck rigged as a staysail cat. Routh has heard of even stranger rigs: wingsails, biplane rigs, and even a variant of the Micronesian-style proa rig described by writer and wild food forager Euell Gibbons in his book The Beachcomber Afloat.

Tom Pamperin

When sailing off the wind, a Puddle Duck feels luxurious to its solo skippers.

Like most unballasted dinghies, the Puddle Duck should generally be sailed as flat as possible, some-thing its wide flat bottom makes a little more automatic than it would be with a more sophisticated hull shape. But the Duck’s rocker makes it extremely sensitive to fore-and-aft trim, which makes it an excellent boat to learn on—Duck skippers are punished for their mistakes in very obvious, yet relatively benign ways. Keep your weight too far forward and the bow transom will dig in deeply, the Puddle Duck’s characteristic “pig rooting” behavior. With your weight too far back, you’ll bury the transom and feel the speed drop off dramatically. Someone new to sailing, or new to dinghies, will quickly learn that small boats demand constant weight shifts and awareness of trim for optimum performance, a mindset that’s not easily learned by crewing on heavily ballasted keelboats.

With its flat bottom, and a length-to-beam ratio under 2, the Puddle Duck’s initial stability is quite high—another feature that beginning sailors will appreciate. And most Ducks are designed and built with two large buoyancy chambers (fore and aft, or one on each side), making the boat easy to right after capsizing. The use of a single externally mounted leeboard, probably the most common choice, allows builders to avoid the complications of daggerboard cases and pivoting centerboards if they prefer. Plenty of Ducks use daggerboards and centerboards, though, often set into a side buoyancy tank to save legroom.

Tom Pamperin

The Puddle Duck’s popularity has drawn serious racers to a growing number of competitive events.

Despite its awkward appearance, the Puddle Duck is a surprisingly comfortable boat to sail when it’s not bashing its way through the waves—its lack of streamlining and short waterline can make fighting a steep chop seem like riding in an unbalanced washing machine. Off the wind, though, or in flat water, a Puddle Duck feels luxurious. After his first sail in Duck No. 892, my brother described it as “an old man’s boat”—the side buoyancy tanks offer extremely comfortable seating, and the off-center daggerboard leaves plenty of room to stretch out. With a designed displacement of 630 lbs, it could easily take two adults without dragging the bow or stern. A better option, though, would be to build a second Duck. It’s such a simple design that there’s little excuse not to.

But, simplicity aside, the real genius of the Puddle Duck is the childlike innocence it brings to sailing. Tearing along at 3 knots as if possessed by a wide-eyed eagerness to seek out the unlikeliest, most ridiculous way to do things, the Puddle Duck is a boat designed for play. I’m struck by the design’s utter lack of pretension. It’s a bit silly—and at the same time endearingly naïve—that a boat with a theoretical hull speed just over 4 mph would bother to register for a Portsmouth Yardstick rating (with a handicap of 140, it’s the slowest boat on the list), but there are serious racers among the Puddle Duck crowd. On the other hand, I was able to borrow a Puddle Duck at the 2012 World Championships (the first races of any kind that I ever competed in) and place seventh overall—far behind the leaders, but having a good time all the way.

Tom Pamperin

Puddle Ducks have made some serious voyages-incompany for an 8’ boat. In 2014, 12 of them finished the grueling five-day Texas 200.

Other Puddle Ducks have been used for voyages more ambitious than simple round-the-buoys racing. Completing the five-day Texas 200 in a Puddle Duck, for example, has become something of a rite of passage—12 Duckers finished the event in 2014, a record number. Upping the ante considerably, Scott Widmier attempted the 300-mile WaterTribe Everglades Challenge in his EC DUCK in 2012, reaching as high as fifth place in his class (sailing monohulls) before high winds and bad weather forced him to abandon the race (conditions were so challenging that only two mono-hulls managed to finish). Like a Chihuahua challenging a Rottweiler, the Puddle Duck just jumps in and goes at it, without seeming to realize it might look a little silly to observers. Or maybe it just doesn’t care.

Free Puddle Duck plans are available from the website www.pdracer.com/free-plans/, or from Jim Michalak at www.duckworksbbs.com/plans/jim/catbox/index.htm. Learn more at www.pdracer.com.

Tom Pamperin

The Puddle Duck is not a strict one-design; rather, it’s an open class, meaning that boats must be designed within broad measurements rather than be identical. Here we see the Catbox design, which you can download, along with others, at www.pdracer.com/free-plans.

Tom Pamperin

Puddle Duck Particulars
LOA 8′
Beam 4′
Sail area 69 sq ft

John Hartmann

Though Michael Storer’s plans call for a single balance-lug sail, boatbuilder Clint Chase added a mizzen to better keep the boat headed into the wind when reefing the main.

Twenty years ago, Australian designer Michael Storer drew up the Goat Island Skiff, which he named for an island in Sydney Harbour. Steeped in the Australian design and DIY traditions, he intended it to be light, fast, and easy to build. It was a successful idea, as to date around a thousand skiffs have been built in 27 countries. Over the course of two decades, the plans have evolved into a detailed how-to-build book, and it is now possible to get the Goat Island Skiff (GIS) in kits.

In Australia, dinghy weight standards are 8–10 lbs per foot of length—much lighter than the European and American standards set in the 1960s by relatively heavy fiberglass boats. A GIS, at 130 lbs, is about half the weight of a Finn dinghy (designed in 1949), but it has the same sail area. It is about the same weight as a Laser (designed in 1970), but with 25 sq ft more sail. Its 5′ beam gives a singlehander more power to carry that sail, but unlike a Finn or a Laser, the GIS can t ake a family sailing. The flat-bottomed skiff shape is relatively skinny on the water line, and with its significant sail area and light weight it can ghost nicely—much better than one would expect of a relatively high-wetted-surface hull.

A balance lugger, the GIS has some tweaks to make the sail set efficiently. The specifications call for the mast to be as unbending as possible, which is critical to a well-setting luff. A powerful downhaul controls draft. In some boats, this control has been moved aft to work as a vang as well, with a line around the boom and mast; this so-called “bleater” keeps the boom from going forward.

Storer recognizes that the skiff shape may not be the best for rowing, and he states that 9′ oars are needed to make a 5′ beam boat work under oars. The oars will fit in the boat’s bottom, or can be stored on the top of the bow tank, blades at the stem, handles held by the ’mid-ship seat knee.

Despite having heard of the Goat Island Skiff for years, I’d never sailed one until last summer, when I encountered two at the Small Reach Regatta in August; one of those boats was owned by amateur builder Paul Hayslett of Branford, Connecticut, and the other by Clint Chase, a professional from Biddeford, Maine. There was also a former GIS owner, Christophe Matson, from Bow, New Hampshire, on hand; he’d had his boat for four seasons before moving to a camp-cruiser he could sleep aboard.

Paul and Cristophe are experienced sailors who were looking for an inexpensive, yet sophisticated, boat to satisfy their skill levels. Both were first-time builders, but it doesn’t take much to build a Goat Island Skiff. The plans come with detailed instructions, and the materials amount to, essentially, six sheets of 6mm plywood.

Storer’s website goes way beyond the usual designer’s offering, providing information about boat tuning and links to other online resources including Facebook pages, blogs, and sites maintained by builders and sailors. Storer also monitors his own Goat Island Skiff Facebook page as well as the WoodenBoat Forum (forum.woodenboat.com), and responds fully to email questions.

The builder assembles the sides, bottom, and transom to complete the basic hull. Three seats and their supporting bulkheads form the internal skeleton for the hull structure and built-in flotation tanks. Everything is coated with epoxy; no cloth is needed. Skids provide bottom protection for beaching. The daggerboard, breasthook, quarter knees, and rails finish the boat. This minimal list of parts keeps the hull light. And that’s the impression I got when I stepped aboard Clint’s boat, BLEAT, for the first time: Everything seemed light.

Clint Chase

The Goat Island Skiff has a clean uncluttered interior, with flotation and storage compartments under the bow and stern thwarts.

To get the boat underway from the beach, a long, well-shaped daggerboard and rudder need to be shoved down once the water is deep enough. The rudder is unusual; it’s an extremely efficient vertical blade with an ingenious kick-up system. The balance lugsail goes up easily, and the powerful downhaul working against a stiff, light, hollow mast lets you control the draft. Clint and many other GIS owners are rebuilding their booms to take the loads of a loose-footed sail, a sail that will set better than one laced on. The wind was light on the day of my trial: 5–8 knots with a small chop.

Going to windward, the boat accelerated quickly in the puffs—puffs that were strong enough for me to sit on the rail with a foot hooked into a convenient spot that Clint built into his center thwart. Skiff owners usually have a Y-shaped toe strap, or a pair of hiking straps, which Clint will be fitting into his boat. A tiller extension is essential; Clint made one with a bit of string coming out of a hole in the end for a truly universal joint. If sitting on the bottom or a side seat and not moving around much is your sailing style, you would be better served by a heavier boat. Fore-and-aft positioning wanted me to be on the rail or sitting on the seat amidships. The feel of the helm was very light, with just a hint of a tug to weather.

Clint added a small mizzen to make it easier to lie quietly to the wind while reefing or moving about the boat. I played with fore-and-aft trim and the amount of heel needed to work into the light breeze. Flat-bottomed boats tend to slap as the waves hit the windward chine. Most of that effect is removed when the boat is trimmed with the bow down.

The boat tacked easily. A bit of a roll, something common in dinghy sailing, helped speed her through it in the light stuff. I could just drop the tiller to leeward, hesitate a beat or two as she swung up and through the wind, and then switch tiller and sheet hands and move to windward.

In light conditions, sailing off the wind was simple. The wind was so light that I didn’t bother retrimming the mizzen. Jibing was a non-event: Simply steer to leeward and give the sheet a yank. As the boom came over, a small S-turn to the new leeward side countered any tendency to round up. The big efficient rudder helps. When sailing downwind I found, like on a Laser or most other modern dinghies, a bit of heel to windward made steering with the rudder superfluous. Upwind in light air, steering by heeling a bit to point up and flattening out to head off also worked well.

In discussing capsizing, Paul noted that building a boat yourself gives one the confidence to fi x things. He’d gone over on a gusty day and righted the boat, but was too close to a lee shore to climb in with the sea that was running. In hitting the beach he put a couple of cracks in the bottom. Once the boat was bailed out, he sailed home, looked at the cracks, looked at the season to come, put some duct tape on them, and went sailing. Permanent repair waited until the off-season.

The fact is that any light boat can be capsized. The Goat Island Skiff has pretty high sides, which make it harder, but it can be done. She is easily righted with the daggerboard floating pretty close to the water and the hollow mast keeping her from turtling. Righted, she floats with the daggerboard trunk out of the water. Getting back in can require some agility. If I had problems I might rig a step that could drop into the water off the transom the way it’s done in sea kayaks. With the boat drifting sideways, a yank on the mainsheet could balance pushing down on the weather side, a common practice in other singlehanded dinghies.

Paul was rowing while we discussed his experience, while I was paddling my kayak alongside. His crew was sitting on the bottom of his skiff just ahead of the stern seat. The trim for rowing was perfect; I could just see the edge-grain in his plywood bottom with virtually no transom drag. I also watched Clint and his crew rowing. He was more heavily loaded with his full camping kit, and might have been dragging ½” of transom.

What is really unusual for such a relatively high-performance boat is that you can take a family for a sail. With a crew of two or more, the skiff settles right down. On the long broad reach home on day two of the Small Reach Regatta, the wind had come up to white-caps and a number of boats reefed. Clint didn’t reef, although he has a well-organized jiffy reef for his first reef. His passenger simply rode the center seat, facing forward, and Clint sat on the rail. With puffs, he was well positioned to hike out a little and his passenger could slide up or down to keep the boat level. Later, when BLEAT sailed to the ramp for haulout, Clint’s passenger was comfortably sitting on the bottom ahead of the center thwart reading and handing out cookies.

It’s hard to imagine a more versatile small sailing boat. Her performance in racing against modern dinghies is impressive, with handicap numbers like a Laser radial or OK dinghy. But you can also sail sedately, taking along friends. While rowing is not the boat’s strong suit, it is acceptable and the GIS can even take a small outboard. If I were not over-boated already (by some standards), I’d think about adding one to the fleet.

Plans for the Goat Island Skiff are available at https://www.storerboatplans.com/boatplans/goat-island-skiff-simple-sailing-boat-excellent-performance-lightweight. You can see pictures and contact other builders at www.facebook.com/groups/GoatIslandSkiff. Kits are available from Clint Chase at https://www.chase-small-craft.com/.

Particulars
Length 15′ 6″ (4.73m)
Beam 5′ (1.52m)
Hull weight 128 lbs (57kg)
Sail area 105 sq ft
(9.75 sq meters)

More than 1,000 Goat Island Skiffs have been built since
Michael Storer first drew the plans 20 years ago.

Steve Traficonte

LEILU, the first boat completed to François Vivier’s Jewell design, promises both excellent daysailing and the possibility for adventures, all in a cruising sailboat under 20’ long.

Striking a balance between seaworthiness and ease of use in a small craft can be challenging. A too-small cabin can be claustrophobic, but a hull designed around a comfortable interior can be ungainly. Too large a boat can overpower a vehicle’s towing capability; too small, its usefulness may be limited. Too tall, a rig is hard to set up; too short, the boat’s performance may be a continual frustration. With Jewell, however, French naval architect François Vivier seems to have struck an impeccable balance.

Vivier worked up the design in consultation with Clint Chase, a boatbuilder of Portland, Maine, who relayed what people were telling him they were looking for in a boat. The U.S. kits are CNC-cut by Hewes & Company of Blue Hill, Maine. As of this writing, a single hull had been completed to the new design, and another was close to launching in Switzerland.

Frank Kieliszek of Norway Lake, Maine, owns the first completed Jewell, which he named LEILU. Rather than building it himself, he sought economy by buying a boat kit and a quick completion by having it constructed by French & Webb of Belfast, Maine. It was an unusual project for a company known for its fine custom yacht construction.

Vivier’s thorough designs are conceived with amateur builders in mind, and the computer-cut kits are meant to simplify and hasten the all-plywood construction. The hull is glued-lapstrake, using 9mm okoume plywood over an egg-crate-style structure of interlocked bulkheads and stringers, all epoxy-filleted. She has a box keel that contains the ballast and also makes her readily trailerable.

Kieleszek wanted a boat finished to high standards, but he’s more interested in sailing than construction. The French & Webb builders report that the kit went together easily, even though Vivier hadn’t finalized the instructions at the time. “I think they were pleased,” Kieleszek said. “The pieces that come precut, the CNC pieces, fit amazingly well. They had some little things they would do differently,” but overall the problems were few. LEILU launched in August 2013.

Tom Jackson

Unassisted, owner Frank Kieleszek winched LEILU onto the trailer rollers with ease, and his six-cylinder pickup provides ample towing power on the road and the ramp.

Kieleszek lives year-round at the head of a five-mile-long lake, and LEILU stands ready at the end of a small dock. “When I come home from work, the boat is already rigged, so we just hoist sail and push off,” he said. He had small sailboats before, most notably a Flying Scot—but he wanted something safe, stable, and not requiring as much athleticism to sail. Kieleszek also wanted a boat that he could transport to salt water for exploring and weekend cruises among Maine’s alluring islands. He saw a presentation that Chase made at the Small Reach Regatta one year about sailing with Vivier in France. He started visiting websites regularly. When he saw the Jewell design, all the pieces fi t together.

For Kieleszek, LEILU has lived up to her promise. Joining him in Belfast Harbor for a daysail, I came to appreciate the boat’s qualities as well. Small-boat cruisers have a long list of things they look for in a boat, and I can’t think of any criterion that this design fails to meet. And it meets them all with style.

The boat is a centerboarder rigged as a gaff-headed yawl, in Vivier’s words, “firstly because it is beautiful, and also because Americans are fond of yawls.” She has a roller-furling jib whose tack attaches to a stemhead fitting, without the need of a bowsprit. The high-peaked gaff mainsail sets easily, reefs easily, and provides ample power. The triangular, sprit-boomed mizzen sheets to a pole boomkin that is easily removed for trailering.

Tom Jackson

A Torqeedo electric outboard, with a built-in battery pack, stows in a cockpit locker and slips easily into place. Once the boat is rigged and the outboard and the rudder are kicked up, the boat is ready to back down the ramp.

Yawls with outboard rudders present one difficulty: steering often calls for either an offset mizzenmast or elaborate mechanisms to get around the mast to the rudderhead. Vivier’s response was to step the mast through the short afterdeck into a fitting and a step mounted on the inboard face of the transom. The S-shaped tiller passes under the afterdeck and through a transom aperture below the step. The aperture is far enough down to give the mizzenmast sufficient “bury,” and a built-in well, much like an outboard motor recess, drains overboard aft to prevent water from coming into the cockpit. By using this simple solution, the mizzen is stepped amidships, where it should be.

Although there is nothing technically difficult about setting up the rig, it takes time, up to two hours. The boat could easily live on its trailer, but this kind of setup and take-down time greatly favors the kind of user who has in mind weekend adventuring over regular daysailing off a trailer. The mast is housed in a stainless-steel, deck-mounted tabernacle, and Kieleszek is able to raise it by himself. The shrouds set easily, using high-tech line through simple deadeyes. The jib attaches simply to the stemhead fitting. Its halyard, which passes through a block at the peak for mechanical advantage when hoisting, leads to a cleat on the cabintop to port of the companionway slider. For the mainsail, the peak and throat halyards, which also reeve through blocks for advantage in hauling, lead to cabintop cleats to starboard. Modern rigging fittings provide appropriate strength, minimal profile, and ease of handling.

With the jib and mizzen rolled up and the main furled, and the permanently placed rudder kicked up to vertical, LEILU launched easily. On retrieval later, I was surprised at how very easily she winched up onto the trailer rollers, and Kieleszek’s six-cylinder pickup hauled her out without a hint of complaint.

Frank Kieleszek

As a new boat, LEILU doesn’t have much of a “lived in” look. She‘s awaiting, for one thing, her V-berth cushions. A cooler and portable toilet stow under the bridge deck to each side of the centerboard trunk, ready to slide out when needed.

Like many of Vivier’s designs, Jewell has an ample cockpit, much larger than you often see in boats of this length (19’8″). The boat’s width—7′ 3″—accentuates the cockpit’s volume. She feels and handles like a much larger boat. She has side seats aft, with lockers under-neath, and a bridge deck, making a T-shaped cockpit sole that greatly simplifies jib handling while tacking. Seating is comfortable for four or more. The coaming is a comfortable back support but is low enough for side-deck seating when the crew goes to the weather rail. The electric outboard is stowed in the starboard locker. Kieleszek has a model with a removable battery pack at its head, eliminating any need for heavy batteries aboard. The outboard provides a couple of hours of motoring time.

The cabin is also commodious for a boat this size. Chase, who is 6′ 6″ tall, encouraged Vivier to include long bunks. The V-berth layout is practical not only for tall people but for stowage. Compact lockers to port and starboard aft provide accessible stowage and minimalist counter space. The centerboard trunk’s intrusion into the interior is slight, forming a useful step that doubles as a place to sit while slicing salami. Stowage under the bridge deck alongside the center-board trunk easily accommodates a small portable toilet on one side and a cooler to the other, both nicely out of the way when not in use. With the addition of a boom tent to keep the cockpit bug- and rain-free, a couple could easily cruise comfortably for days, yet the boat would be easy to handle solo.

Frank Kieleszek

The first completed Jewell hull was built upside-down over molds and bulkheads at French &
Webb in Belfast, Maine.

Frank Kieleszek

Cut by computercontrolled routers at Hewes & Company in Blue Hill, Maine, the kit components came together quickly.

In one spring afternoon sail, Kieleszek and I experienced just about everything. We sailed downwind out of the harbor on a pleasant breeze. However, we could see lines of dark clouds forming, portending gusts. The boat balanced handily and maneuvered through tacks and jibes with ease. At length, we turned windward for the homeward leg, and soon we found it necessary to reef. We hauled the mizzen tight and rolled up the jib so the boat would ride head-to-wind while we cinched up the topping lift to control the boom, eased the main peak and throat halyards together, made off the leech reefing line, got the luff cringle on its hook, and made off the reefing nettles around the loose-footed sail. In no time, we hoisted the main again and rolled out the jib.

After a while, the wind subsided, so we shook out the reef. Before long, a particularly dark line appeared, obviously carrying rain and strong wind. Kieleszek made the wise call to douse the main entirely, and when that strong breeze hit, we sailed very comfortably on the jib and mizzen, a classic yawl strategy for heavy weather. After the squall line passed, we were able to hoist full sail again and sailed back to port on a pleasant breeze under a warming sun.

She handled all of that with grace. I found myself toying with the old ideas: Why not this one? I envisioned her loaded with dry bags and baskets of edibles, outward bound. Her simplicity has a strong appeal. I’ve been an admirer of Vivier’s designs since coming to know them at Raid Sweden in 2005, and periodically I visit his website to daydream about one design or another. There is something about this Jewell design—economical, towable, manageable, “doable”—that has that just-right feel to it.

For information about Jewell and other designs by François Vivier, see his website at www.vivierboats.com. Plans are available from the designer. Kits and completed boats are available in France from Icarai, www.icarai.fr/index-en.html.

François Vivier

Jewell Particulars
LOA 19′ 8″
LWL 17′ 9″
Beam 7′ 3″
Draft board up 1′ 3″
board down 4′
Displacement 1,367 lbs
Ballast, in keel, 265 lbs
in centerboard 66 lbs
Sail area 237 sq ft

François Vivier

Designer François Vivier has developed a number of “randonneurs,”
or trekking boats, over the years. With amateur construction in
mind, he designed Jewell to be relatively simple to build, using
glued-lapstrake plywood construction. The boat is easily trailerable.
Its shoal draft, only 15” with the board up, will allow close
explorations of islands and coastlines, and her broad beam helps
her stay on her feet and also permits relatively generous cockpit and
accommodations for a boat under 20’ long.

Dan Spurr

In the early 1970s, Greg Morley, left, decided to leave a career in forestry and park management to make a living building cedar-strip canoes. More than 40 years later, his son Steve, right, is continuing the family business, driven by his own passion for small boats.

One doesn’t usually think of Montana as a hotbed of boatbuilding…in any medium. And it’s not. But there are a few dedicated individuals designing and building small craft worthy of note. One of them, Jason Cajune’s Freestone drift boat, was featured in the 2008 edition of Small Boats. While most Montana waters aren’t deep, especially rivers such as the Yellowstone, Madison, and the Big Hole, they are reputed to stock trout at 5,000 a mile, which attracts fly fishermen from all over the world. A strong catch-and-release ethic keeps them coming back. In many ways, the drift boat is the ideal design for such pursuits, but hardly the only choice. For many, the canoe is a more versatile investment, not only capable of running rivers but also an extremely competent means of traversing lakes.

Designed and built by Morley Canoes in the north-west corner of the state, the cedar-strip-planked Guide is such a boat. Company literature touts it as a “tough working canoe” that is “well known for its wonderful reliability over so many water conditions,” capable of carrying “heavy loads with ease through churning rapids or across a windy lake.”

Morley Canoes was founded in 1972 by Greg and Anne Morley, who that year made a very conscious decision about their lives: to spend more time doing the things they loved, and high on the list was paddling lakes and rivers in canoes and kayaks of their own making. Unlike too many folks, they made good on their vow.

Dan Spurr

Greg has collected two pedal-powered jigsaws built by Barnes of Rockford, Illinois, in 1876. He finds them ideal for cutting the fragile wood for inlays.

It’s not as if Greg had been mired in a corporate sweatshop. Armed with a degree in forestry from the University of Montana, he’d been a parks and recreation superintendent in Montana and Oregon, lastly acquiring land for a greenway along the Willamette River. A longtime woodworker, he began making canoes as a hobby. Then, after Anne asked him to build her a 16′ touring kayak so she could “get away,” he wondered if he could make a living at it. The answer, 42 years later, is: yes.

The Morleys moved to Corvallis, in Montana’s Bitterroot Valley, and a few years later headed north to the Swan River Valley, seeking more water on which to paddle. In the hamlet of Swan Lake they bought the old Silver Spur Bar and an acre of land, and set to work.

“The Department of Commerce wanted us to grow the business and hire employees,” Greg says, “but we weren’t interested in that. We wanted a comfortable living, but time to pursue the outdoor activities we enjoy. All of our children know how to run rapids and now, even our grandkids. Twelve-year-old Bryn does whitewater in her 12′ solo canoe.”

Bryn is the daughter of Steve Morley, Greg’s son who is taking over the business. On the day of my visit he was covering a canoe exterior with one of its two layers of 6-oz fiberglass cloth. “I grew up in this shop,” he says. “I got into sailing and windsurfing. And, of course, I built my own boats—with Dad’s help.” He also took to surfing and moved to Hawaii for 10 years, where he and his wife started their family. When it came to choosing the best place to raise their kids, they chose the “last best place”—Montana.

Dan Spurr

The shop is located on Highway 83 in Swan Lake, Montana, where boats parked out front on the lawn lure passersby. The Morleys build 15 or so boats per year.

The Guide was designed by Greg, who taught himself by assiduously studying the shapes of others and modifying them to suit his own taste. One learns a craft or art by first mimicking the masters, like Old Town and Chestnut. With canoes, the key elements are beam, rocker, stem profiles, and tumblehome—adjusted by on-the-water experience—wrestling with the age-old compromise: maneuverability versus tracking. Greg says WoodenBoat magazine has been an important educational aid, as well as the early Canoe magazine, in which particular designs and their performance were well covered.

The Guide is available in lengths from 15′ to 18′. It’s a general-purpose design, capable of carrying supplies for a week of camping on a river, and it can handle waters from riffles to rapids. Standard rocker is 1″, although depending on how the customer plans to use the boat, Steve can easily add another inch of rocker. A symmetrical hull, it has a bit of flare forward to deflect spray, transitioning aft to modest tumblehome for easy paddling.

In the early days of the business, Greg made all the boats the same; today, he says that won’t satisfy many customers. By necessity, each one is custom, and that’s okay by him. Adjustments include weight, keel, depth, bow height, bow shape, square stern, optional sail thwart, and thwart placements. One can even specify an inlaid design, and he has received orders for some odd ones—from the likenesses of dogs to a buzzard smoking a cigar. Trout, loons, and swans are popular images. Customers, who have come from as far afield as Germany and New Zealand, send old photos and say, “Make it like this.” Inlays are drafted and routed on the cedar before construction, since routing on compound surfaces is too tricky. The inlay wood is about 1⁄10″ thick and glued in place.

Dan Spurr

The Guide is the Morley’s most popular model, designed for good all-around performance on both flat and rough water. As with all of their boats, it can be customized to individual preferences in both shape and trim.
Particulars:
LOA 16′
Beam 35″
Weight 60-65 lbs
Capacity 900 lbs

Construction of the Guide is a proven system that has evolved with Greg. In any of the four lengths, these canoes are built on a strongback that’s stored in the back of the shop. It’s on wheels, so when a new boat is begun, it’s rolled into position in the center of the shop where there’s room to swing a brush and a drill driver, if not a cat. Forms are attached into 1⁄2″ slots cut into the strongback. It’s set up so any of the models can be built on the same strongback, using the right frames in the right slots.

Strips of western red cedar purchased from a supplier in Washington State are cut from 2×4s and 2×6s on a bandsaw with a powerfeed. Measuring 1⁄4″ thick and 7⁄8″ wide, the strips have a bead routed into one edge and a cove in the other for a snug edge-to-edge fit. They’re edge-glued to each other and temporarily glued to the molds with thermoplastic glue, supplemented by big rubber bands until the glue cures. When the two layers of exterior cloth are bonded to the strips, the cloth is invisible and the shape is locked in and becomes extremely rigid. After the hull is turned over, the molds are removed and the interior is faired, after which the interior is sheathed with one layer of 6-oz fiberglass cloth set in epoxy.

The rails are trimmed with hardwood, which could be oak, ash, cherry, or whatever the customer prefers. Thwarts, foot braces, and woven rawhide seats are added with bronze fastenings.

Steve Morley had no difficulty shouldering the 70-lb 17-footer across the road and down to the Swan Lake shore. We took turns paddling. (The Morleys make their own light and beautiful cedar paddles.) I paddled along the lakeshore, sitting on the aft seat for a time, and then at Greg’s and Steve’s suggestion, kneeling just forward of it for better trim. In either position the boat felt light and easily driven; the far side of the lake didn’t seem too much of a distance to go. Tracking and turning so nicely, one doesn’t want to quit…just keep the rhythm, just keep on paddling.

Morley Canoes, 22030 Highway 83, Swan Lake, MT 59911; www.morleycanoes.com.

John Summers

After Dianne Schreyer told her husband she’d spend more time on the water if they had a more stable boat, Roy built DIANNE’S ROSE. The couple are on the water all the time now.

If you’re like most people, you probably enjoy relaxing in your living room, and why wouldn’t you? The furniture is comfortable, you can put your feet up at the end of a long day, and there are always snacks and beverages close by. If you can imagine having all this, enjoying nice scenery moving gently by outside the windows and having a pleasant breeze blowing through, you’ll know what it feels like to go for a cruise on DIANNE’S ROSE, Roy Schreyer’s charming 17′ houseboat. A day with Roy and Dianne on their boat resembles nothing so much as taking your living room out on the water with you.

After years of beach cruising in a modified Star-class sailboat that he rescued from a farm field, Roy responded to a comment from his wife, Dianne, that a more stable boat would get her out on the water more often, and so he designed and built DIANNE’S ROSE. Roy calls his new cruiser a house/camp boat, and he and Dianne find that DIANNE’S ROSE is equally comfortable on the water or on the trailer in a campground on the way to the water. He professes a fondness for near-shore, shallow-water adventures, sliding under bridges and going as far up the creek as he can before running out of water (and, according to Dianne, even a little farther on occasion), and in this small boat he has created an ideal platform for these kinds of adventures.

This is a big little boat, and every inch of the interior volume is available for use. Because there are no side decks, the cabin is almost 7′ 6″ wide. Even with the decks at the bow and stern, it is still 10′ long inside. The designer has made good use of the basic construction of the hull to support the interior functions. The hull is a barge with a flat-bottomed center section and a garboard plank on each side that rises through 6″ of deadrise to form a chine at the waterline. In profile the bottom sweeps up to make a pram bow, and the full-width transom is slightly raked.

John Summers

The arched roof of the cabin adds to the feeling of spaciousness in the cabin as Roy and a passenger enjoy the view of the Nottawasaga River in Wasaga Beach, Ontario.

Construction is common lumber and marine ply-wood covered with epoxy and fiberglass cloth. The main hull components can all be built on a flat bench before being assembled, and with the hull being rectangular in plan there are very few curves to deal with in layout and assembly. Joints are mechanically fastened and filleted with epoxy, and the housetop is sheathed with fiberglass cloth and painted white to reflect heat.

Two full-length longitudinal bulkheads built from plywood with lumber doublers on the edges make up the basic egg-crate structure of the hull and also define the cabin layout. The space between the two bulkheads creates the central sole and makes up the edges of the settees. Because these two bulkheads continue fore and aft under the end decks, they provide out-of-the-way stowage for the table in its lowered position. Other filler pieces slide fore and aft on these bulkheads, and when locked into place with deadbolts they offer a step up and out onto the deck at bow and stern. At the stern, the bulkheads define the galley cupboard and the head area, and their interior faces are nicely finished with raised-panel wainscoting to add some decorative appeal.

John Summers

Roy Schreyer’s 21 pages of plans include detailed drawings of every piece on DIANNE’S ROSE, along with directions and images of each step of construction.

John Summers

Particulars
LOA 17′ 0″
Beam 8′ 0″
Draft 6″
Interior height 6′ 91⁄2″
Displacement 1,500 lbs empty
Power 9.9-hp to 50-hp outboard

It is at the forward end of the accommodation that Roy has done his best design work. The settees stop short of the forward end of the house, leaving a foot-well for the captain (to starboard) and first mate (to port). The view forward and to either side is panoramic, and even on a short cruise I could see how these are best seats in the house. With the window removed and a screen inserted in the doors to the deck at bow and stern, there is a delightful through-breeze on even the hottest of days. When we were out on the river, the boat was covered in deerflies, and yet we were perfectly cool and comfortable inside the bright, airy cabin. A small afterdeck houses the motorwell and two tidy wooden deck boxes, one for gas and one for propane for the galley stove.

When the settees are used for sleeping, one of the back cushions on each side covers the well to make up the length required for two fore-and-aft berths. In a nice bit of design work, these same two filler pieces can also be placed between the settees to form a transverse queen-size berth.

With its longitudinal tongue-and-groove planking and raised center section, the overhead was inspired by old railway cars. Two skylights keep the interior bright, and if one were so inclined chocks could be fitted port and starboard for a dinghy or a little canoe, and maybe a couple of steel-shod setting poles for really-shallow-water work. Roy has recently added a pair of oars, which mount to oarlocks on the forward sides of the house, for low-speed (or out-of-gas) maneuvering, and these too stow neatly inside the cabin along with the fishing rods on either side of the raised center section of the overhead.

The galley has a small sink with a water pump and a two-burner propane stove that can also be dismounted and used outside. Stowage shelves above and below the counter, and an opening window in the aft bulk-head, complete a very functional little space. The head is equipped with a composting toilet, its own portlight, and, of course, a magazine rack stocked with boating publications. A transverse line of hooks in the overhead allows the entire aft section to be converted into a private bathing and changing room. In keeping with Roy’s thrifty free-cycling approach to boatbuilding, the galley shelving and stove were salvaged from an uncompleted Phil Bolger Martha Jane sharpie, the galley tile was left over from their kitchen renovations, and the aluminum-framed screens for the doors at the bow and stern were cut down from old screen doors.

Roy Schreyer

Roy Schreyer built the hull from common lumber and marine plywood. The divisions between the bulkheads form flotation compartments and space for stowing gear.

How does she handle? Well, like a barge, really, and about how you would expect a boat to handle that’s virtually flat-bottomed and almost half as wide as long. There are four metal-shod runners on the bottom of the hull to protect against abrasion during beaching. Extending about 1½” below the bottom, they probably improve the tracking somewhat, but I still felt the want of a skeg to keep her on course. Turns are best accomplished by applying a small degree of helm and then meeting the turn with opposite helm almost as soon as it’s started, lest you overcorrect. On your first trip, you’ll want to leave some space on either side of you until your wake straightens out. Roy’s boat is powered with a 9.9-hp longshaft two-stroke outboard, which will give about 6 knots at three-quarters to four-fifths throttle, according to the GPS.

Although it’s unquestionably good on gas, this little outboard works awfully hard to push nearly a ton of boat through the water, and as a result it is distractingly noisy underway. If I were to build one of these boats, I would be inclined to up the horsepower to 25 or 30 and run the motor throttled way back to keep the noise down. I’d also want to find a high-thrust, low-speed prop and, if the budget would stand it, upgrade to a four-stroke for quieter and more efficient running. A wooden hood over the outboard might cut the noise down even further. Even with a larger motor, however, this will still be a very economical boat to run, particularly if she lives on a trailer in your driveway when she’s not on the water. Her decks are clear fore and aft, and a boarding ladder at the bow helps to get back on from the beach. I might add a low bulwark at the bow to give the hull a little bit of sheer in profile and some protection from chop. This would also give you a secure place to stow the anchor and let you keep the docklines out of the cabin. The boarding ladder works well, but it might be even more fun to have a cross-cleated plank to deploy for a real riverboat feel during bow-on landings.

John Summers

DIANNE’S ROSE is under 8’ wide, weighs about 1,500 lbs empty, and can be towed by the average six-cylinder family utility vehicle.

DIANNE’S ROSE measures 17′ LOA × 8′ beam, and draws but 6″. There’s 6′ 91⁄2″ of headroom in the center alleyway of the cabin, and her air draft is only 7′, allowing her to pass safely under all but the lowest of bridges (if, of course, the captain remembers to lower the flagstaff). Empty weight is 1,500 lbs, and she can be towed behind an average six-cylinder vehicle. With her shallow draft, launching and retrieval can be handled by one person if necessary. The angled outer edges of the bottom help get her centered on the trailer. Both times I saw Roy launch and retrieve, she came out of the water perfectly arranged on the trailer, though he was honest enough to say that it doesn’t always happen that way. If she does need to be shifted while on the trailer after retrieving, a small jack and a couple of boards will get her aligned properly.

The original boat was completed in about 700 hours, spread over two years of weekends working outdoors from spring to fall. Roy estimates that with the comprehensive plans he has now prepared, the boat could be completed in about 600 hours. Costs are always difficult to estimate because they depend so much on the degree of fit, finish, and quality that suits an individual builder, but according to Roy he spent about $5,000 on DIANNE’S ROSE, including the trailer but not the motor.

Roy Schreyer

The cabin contains two large comfortable settees for use underway.

Roy Schreyer

At mealtime the convertible table will seat the whole family.

Roy Schreyer

In the evening, the settees transform into a queen-size bed.

If you are looking for a charming, easy-to-build, and relatively economical way to get on the water, and a sure-fire way to start a conversation at every gas station, rest stop, campground, or launch ramp you visit, then DIANNE’S ROSE might be the boat for you.

You can read more about the design and construction of DIANNE’S ROSE, see designer and builder Roy Schreyer’s cabinetmaking and kitchen design work, and order plans on his website at www.roydesignedthat.com or by emailing him at [email protected]. If you enjoy small, cozy spaces that you can build yourself, be sure to check out both the Tiny House blog at http://tinyhouseblog.com/ and Lloyd Kahn’s new book Tiny Homes on the Move: Wheels and Water, which features DIANNE’S ROSE.

Roy Schreyer

Roy and Dianne enjoy camp-cruising at its best with DIANNE’S ROSE beached beside their campsite.

Complete building plans, including 21 sheets of drawings, detailed construction notes, photos, and full-sized patterns for some parts are available as hard copy ($285 USD plus postage) or PDF ($230 USD) from the designer, as are study plans ($30 USD, $35 USD overseas). Send a check or money order to Roy A. Schreyer, 177 Antigua Dr., Wasaga Beach, ON, L9Z 2S2, Canada.

LILLIAN HOWARD/WEST COAST ACTION PHOTOS

A sweeping sheerline, together with ample “rocker,” or bottom curvature, give the McKenzie drift boats the ability to deftly run whitewater such as Marten’s Rapids on the namesake river in central Oregon.

Marten’s Rapid on the McKenzie River in Oregon is a great example of a Pacific Northwest “technical” rapid. Running Marten’s requires quick moves, good judgment, and steady hands by the oarsman. Such rapids also demand the right kind of boat to navigate them safely. The drift boats that emerged on the McKenzie River are built to handle challenging whitewater and have become the boat of choice for Northwest river runners—particularly among fly fishermen pursuing trout in the upper stretches of these rivers where the drops are steep, boulders are common, and the water runs fast and cold.

These boats trace their heritage back to the early 1900s, when guides started taking fishermen down the McKenzie. The type evolved as legendary boatbuilders such as Tom Kaarhus, Woodie Hindman, Keith Steele, and others each put their own mark on the style. By the late 1950s, the McKenzie drift boat had pretty much reached its modern form, and its descendants continue to take fishermen places other boats can’t reach.

I’ve rowed a lot of guests through Marten’s Rapid in my handmade wooden boat. It is a perfect rapid to demonstrate how a McKenzie runs rapids safely while staying “relatively” dry. Its flat bottom has no vulnerable rudder or keel to resist lateral movement, allowing quick moves to avoid obstacles. Its extreme sheer permits the boat to dive down into holes and ride up the other side. Its flared sides keep water out when moving laterally or when splashing through steep drops. The exaggerated rocker, or fore-and-aft curvature of the bottom, lets the boat float like a leaf on the water and gives it high maneuverability. Take away any one of these characteristics, and a boat would probably capsize in a rapid such as Marten’s.

LILLIAN HOWARD/WEST COAST ACTION PHOTOS

In drift boats, the oarsman rows facing the bow and downriver for a controlled descent of rapids. An anchor hangs off the transom for use in holding position while in calm stretches while fi shing.

Within the “family” of McKenzie boats, some are double-ended, others transom-sterned. Freeboard can be high or low. The right configuration depends on how the owner plans to use the boat and on which rivers.

Most professional guides prefer a relatively wide, transom-sterned McKenzie to carry ample gear and to give guests elbow-room for fi shing. Many boats are built with high sides and splash guards forward. The variations are heavily influenced by the favored river and the style of fi shing.

Thirty years ago, a variety of boatbuilders on the McKenzie River sold plans, kits, or finished boats. That is not so today, as wood has given way to fiberglass and especially aluminum. A few wooden boat shops still build drift boats and sell kits and plans, for example Mike Baker of Bend, Oregon (see www.bakerwood driftboats.com).

At the same time, interest in preserving the heritage of wooden drift boats has been renewed. Eagle Rock Lodge in Vida, Oregon, hosts a McKenzie River Wooden Boat Festival each April (see www.eaglerocklodge.com) drawing as many as 50 handcrafted drift boats. Owners and enthusiasts from all over the country share stories and admire the boats. A website (www.woodenboatpeople.com) keeps them connected, and a McKenzie River Drift Boat Museum is envisioned at Vida.

Many of the most traditional designs can be found in Roger Fletcher’s book, Drift Boats & River Dories (Stackpole Books, 2007; see a review in WoodenBoat No. 197 and his article about early drift boats in WoodenBoat No. 151). The book traces the history of the boats and the families that perfected them over the years.

GREG HATTEN

McKenzie drift boats are built to be able to handle whitewater, but they are all about fi shing. The author’s OBSESSION is neatly organized for one guide at the oars and a fl y fi sherman or two forward, and on its Baker Trailer Company trailer designed specifi cally for drift boats, it travels comfortably on remote dirt roads.

My boat, OBSESSION, is a traditional McKenzie-style drift boat that I built in my garage shop in 2004. One of my favorite rivers is the McKenzie itself, the birthplace of the type. The McKenzie has many Class II and III rapids and is home to one of the most beautiful strains of native redside rainbow trout in the West.

I chose five-ply marine-grade African sapele plywood about 1⁄4″ thick for the sides and seven-ply sapele about 1⁄2″ thick for the bottom. My frames are of Alaska yellow cedar, which contrasts with the dark plywood for a striking appearance. Sapele and yellow cedar are hard to come by in my area, and finding the right wood was my first lesson in boatbuilding patience. I used white oak for the chine logs, the gunwales, and the “dash,” the forward coaming that gives the fishermen something to lean against and blocks spray.

GREG HATTEN

A section of brass tubing, recycled from an old barroom footrest, provides a stout foot brace when rowing in rapids.

The dimensions are pretty standard for a McKenzie: a little over 15′ LOA, with a beam of 6′ at the sheer and 4′ at the chine. Despite its small transom, the boat is considered a double-ender. I put a 1⁄4″-thick “shoe” of 1⁄4″ UHMW (ultra-high-molecular-weight) plastic on the bottom to protect the wood and to help the boat slide over rocks.

It took me more than 600 hours to build a boat that most guys could’ve built in half that time. I’m slow, my tools are old, I didn’t take a shop class in high school. I “redid” a few things I wasn’t happy with. For example, the stainless-steel screws I first used to fasten the mahogany sides didn’t look quite right, so I replaced every single one of them with brass. This boat challenged my patience, my creativity, and my woodworking ability. In the end, it was more about persistence and passion than skill.

GREG HATTEN, INSET: TIM HATTEN

Seats have built-in lockers to keep fishing gear dry and organized. Inset—When fishing, an angler stabilizes himself by leaning into a thigh brace on the aft coaming of the foredeck.

My boat was finally finished one morning when I ran out of things to put on a “to-do” list. Honestly, it kind of snuck up on me. When it was over, I missed the smell of fresh-cut wood, the first coat of varnish, the problem-solving, the orbital sander accompanied by Steely Dan. I missed going to the garage with my first cup of coffee in the morning to critique what I’d done the night before.

I missed all of it—until I put it in the water in the summer of 2004. Right away I had a new obsession, running rivers in a boat I built with my own hands. Moving with the water, flexing the oars on a deep pull, and hitting a perfect line through a rapid is a thrill. So is using the boat as an extension of the rod to move a fly on a graceful arc, enticing a steelhead to strike.

TIM HATTEN

Steelhead trout are a favored quarry for fishermen—the author, in ths case—on Pacific Northwest rivers. Aboard OBSESSION, a first steelhead catch is an occasion for a celebratory fine cigar.

Right after launching, I learned that OBSESSION wasn’t really finished at all—which is one of the best things about wooden boats. The more I rowed and fished, the more improvements I thought of. My boatbuilding project entered a whole new phase.

When the rain settled in for the winter, I gathered my notes, doodles, and sketches of “boat applications” for OBSESSION. I picked through scraps of mahogany and yellow cedar, then happily went to work again. Using leather, I made a simple sling to hold the spare oar out of the way but ready for use. I made covers and drains for the gear compartments to keep fishing supplies dry, as well as drawers and better ways to keep things organized. After an incident in which an oarlock popped out along with its bushing and cotter pin, I made blocks of mahogany attached to the oarlock with an S-hook to prevent them from pulling through under stress. I also added tethers I like, made by Phantom Fire Pan and Oar Tethers in Estacada, Oregon.

GREG HATTEN

The stern-setting anchor makes it simple to stop at a promising fishing hole. The oars, which have substantial buttons to keep them from slipping out of the oarlocks, trail alongside, out of the way and ready for immediate use.

I have a “bar” on my boat. At a junkyard, I bought a 2′ piece of brass footrail of the type used in old barrooms, which I mounted to the floorboards as a footbrace. The wilder the rapid, the more I use the brace—it’s one of my favorite “boat apps” because it helps me to row out of danger. I have cup holders to keep cans and bottles in place, along with the occasional cigar that gets lit up when a fisherman celebrates his first steelhead catch. I bought rubber mats of the type used in restaurant kitchens and cut them to fit the floor to protect the wood and provide springy comfort for fishermen who stand up almost all day.

GREG HATTEN

Dory-style construction relies on a flat bottom and straight sides of plywood, making drift boats comparatively simple to build.

Oars can take a beating on dirt-road rides to the river, so I built holders to keep them from banging around. I can also padlock them in place while leaving the boat unattended to shuttle gear. With a bracket made of sapele and yellow cedar, the oars also make a handy tripod where we can hang a 1962 Coleman lantern at camp.

Fly-rod holders are essential because your hands are on the oars all day. I’ve caught hundreds of steelhead with a setup I created using bamboo, sapele, yellow cedar, and a leather strap. When we run particularly challenging rapids, my guests need both hands free to hold on, bail, snap a picture, or tighten their life jackets, so I built a couple of simple rod holders behind their thwart. As soon as we clear the rapid, they can return to fishing immediately.

One removable floorboard doubles as a cutting board to take ashore when it’s time to clean fish, and another doubles as an onboard table.

GREG HATTEN

Wooden construction also makes boats comparatively easy to repair. After an encounter with a rock, the author used bolts (later cut off flush) to clamp an epoxy repair. The stitched-together wound left an honorable “scar.”

The most sickening sound in the middle of a rapid is a dull thud like a sledgehammer hitting the bottom, followed by wood splitting. I’ve heard it. It hurts. A lot. My first thought is never about the repair, it’s always sorrow that I hurt my boat again and disappointment that I didn’t avoid it. But in reality, when you row on Class II and III rivers, you’re eventually going to hit a rock. I remind myself again that I built this boat to run rivers, not the garage.

I use epoxy with fillers for repairs, sometimes augmented by fiberglass cloth or even a plywood backing plate if the break is bad. Normally my repairs are as smooth as glass. To fix one bad 1′-long slice, I used brass machine screws with wing nuts through blocks of wood to bring the plywood fair. After the epoxy set, I cut the screws off flush, which showed through the varnish later, like stitches in a wound. The result was a subtle scar—the mark of a boat with character and experience, one that has been somewhere and has stories to tell.

RANDY DERSHAM

A wooden drift boat seems to correspond particularly well with the outdoor lifestyle of the Pacific Northwest, here on the Snake river with the Grand Tetons beyond.

This boat will continue to collect stories and scars as I row the rocky Northwest rivers. I’m told my OBSESSION is perfectly named—and I couldn’t agree more.

For more on McKenzie River drift boats, see Roger Fletcher’s book Drift Boats & River Dories (Stackpole Books, 2007) and his website.

ROGER FLETCHER

The design the author used to build OBSESSION was by a company no longer in business. Roger Fletcher, author of Drift Boats & River Dories, has drawn a very similar hull, a type known as a transom-sterned double-ender. His book has details and plans for a wide variety of drift boats, plus details of construction and use, with drawings by veteran WoodenBoat illustrator Sam Manning.
Particulars:
LOA 15’3″
Beam at shear 6’6″
Beam at chine 4′
Draft not much

PAOLO MACCIONE

Drawing on a wide variety of influences, among them American racing sandbaggers and local traditional raceboats, Federico Lenardon developed a fast daysailer for the waters of Trieste, Italy.

The history of cities on the Adriatic Sea such as Trieste, Italy—or any city on this ancient waterway—is hard for an American to comprehend. Even the rich recent history of yachting in the region has been shaped by hundreds of years of practical on-the-water experience.

During a recent trip to the northern Adriatic, I had the opportunity to meet Federico Lenardon, a designer from Trieste who not only embodies this history but helps to shape it. He shared with me the story of one of his designs, the Feather 14, an ultralight, cold-molded skiff with roots going back into the heart of the Adriatic Islands and the legacy of the captains from the Croatian archipelago.

I met Federico in the Yacht Club Adriaco, where he keeps the Feather. The walls were adorned with maps and images dating back to the Hapsburg Monarchy. They showed names of islands in a dialect no longer used and etchings of harbors along the Adriatic archipelago filled with sailing vessels of every variety.

The south side of the ancient stone pier was reserved for wooden boats, where they are best protected from the “Bora,” a strong and gusty wind that blows from the north. Along this side of the pier, there were many perfectly maintained wooden yachts up to 50′ long, several of them from the board of the famous Italian designer Carlo Sciarelli, who was born in Trieste.

Sciarelli, with whom Federico had apprenticed, was a master designer whose yachts were not only renowned for winning regattas but also for a unique aesthetic informed by form and fluid lines rather than following the wave-form theory that was emerging in his day.

Sciarelli saw the same utility for speed in some local boats in the Adriatic, basing some of his first designs on the Passera from Mali Losinj, which was home to many captains who sailed the world on merchant vessels during the age of sail. As the story goes, when these captains returned home, they asked the local builders to build a small boat similar to the styles they had seen in their travels. The result was a magnificent sailing boat with a heart-shaped transom, a shape likely borrowed from similar transoms found in many American boats. Federico recognized this, and by exploring the roots of the Passera he became enamored with many aspects of American traditional small-craft design, especially the works of historian Howard I. Chapelle.

PAOLO MACCIONE

The Feather 14’s broad, low-freeboard hull relying on crew weight to stay upright is reminiscent of sandbaggers, in which crew transferred sandbags from one side of the boat to the other during tacks to keep the boat on its feet (see WoodenBoat Nos. 135 and 118).

In the Feather, not only the technical aspects but the traditional details were rich in variation and utility. Each part and portion of the Feather came with a story. As Federico described it, each was a “quote” from a boat, a builder, a design, or an era that became a particular inspiration for him.

“When designing the prototype for the Feather, I wanted to ‘quote’ these sources,” Federico said. “Similar to how an author incorporates references into a work. I was inspired by these elements, and I wanted to include them in my design.”

There are several such elements throughout the boat. However, the initial inspiration did not come from a design, but from artist Winslow Homer’s famous 1875 painting Breezing Up, showing a catboat under sail. Federico said this painting started the creative direction for the project and allowed him to incorporate elements from his favorite types—the Passera of local renown and 19th-century American sandbaggers from Chapelle’s drawings. He said his intention was to design a broad and shallow boat with a fine underbody. These characteristics are similar to many of the boats from the islands, but for Federico this type also marks a departure from the influences of Sciarelli, who has been noted for designing boats that cut through the water rather than planing.

One of the first elements he incorporated was the transom. “This is a quote from Passera, extending just a bit deeper than the sandbagger or catboat,” Federico said. The heart-shaped transom of the sailing Passera disappeared as the type evolved to accommodate marine engines, which required great bearing surface aft to keep the boat from squatting. The earlier sailing boats of the type had a transom that seemed to define its ability as a fast and able sailing vessel.

FRANCO PACE

Halyards are led through deck-level fairleads, and the rigging fittings are distinctly modern. Yet, with its bowsprit offset to reeve through a stemhead fitting and with its sliding-gunter rig, the Feather 14 clearly pays homage to tradition.

The boat’s sectional shape amidships is a quote from sandbaggers, broad, shallow centerboard racing craft so named for their use of sandbags as shifting ballast. “I used this shape but flattened it just a bit,” compared to the 15°-deadrise in sandbaggers. During tank tests of a prototype model, he was impressed how the combination of these elements in the hull design affected wave shape. “It does not have a deep wave at hull speed like other boats.” He also pointed this out in pictures, and the wave seemed almost flat.

Federico also used quotes in the details. One boat that has been very influential in his life is BAT, an English cutter built in 1885. This was Sciarelli’s boat, and Federico was working on the restoration when he caught Sciarelli’s eye and subsequently became the designer’s apprentice. He used several elements from the English style, including the cutaway forefoot and some rigging elements, including a topping lift that wraps under the boom.

The rig is also a quote from Passera, a sliding-gunter mainsail that originated in the Portuguese tradition. This enabled a comparatively large sail plan using spars that will still fit inside the boat for trailering. Having a high-aspect rig also allows for this ultralight boat to sail on the commonly light winds of the Gulf of Trieste.

JAMES BENDER

Plywood knees attached to minimal laminated frames support the side decks and coaming. A through-deck chainplate on each side attaches to the inboard face of a frame, enabling good jib sheeting angles and keeping the topsides clear of fittings.

During my visit the Bora was screaming down the mountainside and rattling the rigging of all the boats moored at the club. It was difficult for me to envision a calm Gulf of Trieste. One of the most famous maritime events in the region is the Barcolana, in which hundreds of boats sail together in a race that has said to have over 2,000 participants. The locals say that in the Barcolana, it is common to have either too much wind or none at all. The Feather 14 is ideally suited to these conditions and can sail circles around other boats in the light air common to the Gulf of Trieste in the summer.

The boat, 14′ LOA, weighs just 320 lbs, including spars and sails. The hull is built using cold-molded construction, using three 1.5mm (3⁄32″) layers of mahogany veneers, making the planking thickness 4.5 mm, or just over 1⁄4″. The construction is of the highest quality, as one may expect of Italian craftsmanship. The bright spruce spars make a nice contrast to the traditional white hull. They are light and hollow, with the mast weighing in just over 10 lbs. With a total sparred length of 18′ 6″, the rig provides enough power to glide across the water in the least of breezes.

As the wind increases, there are many ways to shorten sail. “In 15 to 18 knots, the first reef in the main is a good idea, also it would be good to have three people in the boat,” Federico said, with a combined crew weight of about 500 lbs. “With a crew of three, you can sail in just about anything and it balances well with reefed main and no jib.”

COURTESY OF CANTIERE ALTO ADRIATICO

To build the Feather 14 hull, first a strip-planked mold was constructed, over which three layers of mahogany veneer were cold-molded, using epoxy.

COURTESY OF CANTIERE ALTO ADRIATICO

The monocoque construction makes the boat light and fast.

The boat handles superbly. One particularly interesting characteristic is how well it tracks. You can completely let go of the tiller at almost every point of sail and the boat tracks like a full-keel cruiser, aided by a rudder and daggerboard shaped to modern foil cross-sectional shapes. This can be a great attribute when sailing shorthanded or when leaving the helm briefly.

Federico describes the Feather as a modern boat with a traditional heart. He used the design tools that had been given to him by Sciarelli, which enabled him to “feel” the lines as they were laid down on paper. Then, he transferred them to computer to develop templates for pieces to be shaped by computer numerically controlled cutting for use in laminations.

With Federico, the discussion gave light to many expressions that we normally wouldn’t use in English, but somehow fit superbly. In addition to quoting inspiring vessels and the “tailoring of the craft,” he spoke of a design element that has become his signature in boats design, the “bird’s back hand.” “It is a curve that aligns with the trailing edge of a bird’s wing,” he said. Characteristic of the shape and style of the Feather, the composite curve of is the perfect metaphor for the boat: two curves combining to form one shape. In the Feather, this is a combination of American and Adriatic elements, an ultralight boat that can be sailed in adverse conditions and a modern construction incorporating traditional design. It is possible that other designers will be quoting Federico for generations to come.

FEDERICO LENARDON

Particulars:
LOA 14’3″
LWL 14′
Beam 5’6″
Draft
board up 6″
board down 4’3″
Sail area 170 sq ft
Displacement 320 lbs

FEDERICO LENARDON

For information about the Feather 14 see the Frederico Lenardon website.