Eva Too

While Madame Defarge sticks to her knitting, I’m stitching a boat together.

It all starts with cutting up about a quarter mile of copper wire into 4 inch lengths. Then, drill 1/16 inch holes in the bottom every 4 inches, 3/8 inch in from the edge. Next, levitate what the Chesapeake Light Craft folks call the “bilge panel” and other boat builders call the “garboard plank” next to the bottom. Start at the bow. Mark off and drill the first 4 or 5 holes into the garboard plank, matching those in the bottom, and 3/8 inch in from the edge. Insert cooper wires in matching holes and twist. Do 4 or 5 on the other side. Proceed along, a few at a time on the port side, a few at a time on the starboard side, until …

… until discovering that the bottom is longer than the planks. Or, the edges that join are not equal lengths. Drat!!! (Actually, I think there were other words.) By some lofting error as yet undiscovered either the bottom was 3 inches too long (nope, measures exactly to the drawings) or the planks were 3 inches too short (nope, they measure exactly to the drawings). Whatever the cause, the remedy is not making the planks longer, but making the bottom shorter. Yes, unwired both panels, and shortened the bottom at both ends, keeping the lines fair. About 20 minutes work with a block plane.

Then, started stitching again. As with all boat planking, there’s lots of contortion going on, and it is best handled by leaving the stitches loose. When the sheer plank is added, the stitches are left even more loose. Stitching up the sheer planks is even more fun than the garboard. It wants to fly off into space on its own. I constrained it by putting a spreader bar at the widest point and by tying the stern ends together with a couple of loops of string. Judicious use of clamps, as props, here and there helped control the chaos, but only slightly.

The instruction manual doesn’t advise one to wear armor, elbow length leather gloves, face masks, and anything else needed to protect oneself from all the wire points. By the time the stitching is done, we have a porcupine. My hands look like I’ve been ripping up bramble bushes. Some people call this construction technique “stitch-n-glue.” Others call it “tortured plywood.” I’m thinkin’ “tortured boatbuilder.”

I thought it might be interesting to have a time lapse video (mostly lapse) of the stitching work so you can see how it comes together.

The next post will show a trick, erm technique, for cutting and fitting the ends of the sheer clamps together.

Glue is slippery stuff. After a glue-up and double checking that the parts haven’t moved, you walk away and something decides to get moving. That’s when you turn around, go back, and check one more time. hmmm. Did that. Twice! This time the parts waited until I was completely out of sight.

The slippage of the sheer clamp from the previous glue-up is just less than 1/4 inch at the stern end of one of the planks. If it had slipped the other way, I would just plane off the overhanging material, but since it slipped downward on the plank, I must decide what to do. Well, the extending area of the plank could be planed off. That would leave the deck sitting askew in that area, the sheer line spoiled, the boat imbalanced and turning in circles and who knows what else.

Part of boat building, or most any other activity, is learning how to recover from problems. This one is simple. Rive off a shim of wood. Glue it in place. Plane it to shape after the glue sets.

Overnight temps have been gradually warming. The shop temperature reached epoxy’s almost minimum temperature yesterday. I’ve been waiting for this time because the next step in assembling the Mill Creek 13 canoe requires gluing the sheer clamps to the sheer planks. Sheer clamps are longitudinal framework members which strengthen the area where the top (sheer) plank joins the deck. Sheer clamps for this boat are 3/4 inch by 1/2 inch. Pieces were scarfed together to attain the needed length.

There were two sorts of preparation, preparing to glue the parts together, and preparing a place to keep the assembly warm enough to cure.

A clamp is going to be glued to each plank. Then, each plank and clamp pair is going to be sandwiched into one assembly for clamping and curing. A strip of clear packing tape on the outer faces of the two planks prevents them from being glued to each other. Pencil lines on the inside faces of each plank ensure the clamp is being glued to the correct edge. These are double checked, and then triple checked at least twice again. All of my squeeze clamps are gathered up and laid out. A fresh pair of critically important nitrile gloves are donned and the epoxy mixed.

SAFETY note: My loving spouse always tells me never to use absolute superlatives such as never and always, every and none. Yet, this is a case where they apply. EVERY thing I’ve read about epoxy says with certainty that EVERY person will become allergically sensitive to it, some with devastating results, and that the ONLY way to avoid such sensitivity is to NEVER let the stuff touch ANY part of your skin. So, these gloves, buy in bulk, are the minimum. Depending on how involved the operation, longer gloves and more protective clothing might be in order.

Woodworkers talk of “glue-ups” being anxiety filled events. Not so with this epoxy. For this particular glue-up, a simple wood to wood join, I’m using some West System epoxy that’s left over from the previous build. It uses a slow hardener that provides 20-30 minutes of open time, more when the temperatures are cool. So, there was plenty of time to get the pieces in place, get the squeeze clamps on and make sure all the usual slipping and sliding ended up with the parts slid into the correct configuration.

Now, let’s keep it reasonably warm while the epoxy cures. My cheap solution to that end consists of 5 clamp lamps with as many 100 watt bulbs, the real ones, not those wimpy curly things, and a couple of sheets of polyethylene drop cloths. The lamps are clamped to the bottom of the boat building bench, pointing upward. The plastic is draped over temporary slats that keep it off the bench, off the glued up parts, and off the lamps. This tent arrangement builds the temperature up to about 70 degrees, plenty sufficient for good curing.

While it cures, it’s back to making lathe parts.