Attaching one of the rubbing strakes with clamps at the scarf joint.

One of the links at the right side of my page leads to Joan Sol’s blog “El mar és el camí” (the sea is the path).  Joan writes in the Catalan language.  If you click on the automatic translator, it produces a garbled translation that is just enough that the ideas come through.   I found his blog very interesting reading, especially a section on “The Manifesto of Slow Sailing”.  Joan invites readers to contribute comments on the manifesto and so I include it below, re-writing the garbled translation in slightly better English and, I hope, correctly interpreting the ideas.

“Quiet Sailing”

As I explained in a previous post, the idea of slow sailing is inspired by the philosophy called the slow movement, which aims to live life more slowly, savor the peace, and enjoy every moment . From this, the idea came to me for the “Manifesto of Slow Sailing,” that aims to be a proposal to enjoy the sea and navigation with peace of mind. At first, the manifesto consisted of ten points. But then, in your comments, some of you said you were supporters of racing, arguing that races are a good way of learning sailing, and I included a new point in this regard. Therefore, it has become a decalogue of eleven points!

Manifesto of Quiet Sailing (2.0)

1.  What is important is not the boat, but your relationship with her and the sea. Never mind the length, or cost of equipment of your boat. Whether it is a rowing boat or a yacht, what matters is not to consider her a possession, but a travel companion for you that will provide pleasure, unforgettable experiences, and knowledge of the sea, and especially of yourself.

2.  Spend time aboard your boat, even if it is moored in port. Convert it into a part of your living space. Work on it, do some work there, so that some part of the ship is your work, and that some part of your work is linked to the ship. This will strengthen the bonds between you and your boat.

3.  Leave behind the feeling of speediness at the pier when sailing. Depart without a return time, as if you are leaving to make a long journey. Lose the clock and let yourself be guided by the sun. If you remove speed and time from the equation, there is only space: the sea.

4.  Depart for sailing aimlessly, without a point of arrival. Simply browse, let yourself be carried away by wind and sea. Do not think of mileage that you did not need to cover. Not going anywhere. Just browse and enjoy the moment.

5.  Unplug electronics and sail as had always done. Learn not to rely on instruments. How long does it take to take a sextant reading or position of a star? Place the cursor on a course  and draw on a paper chart. Forget the wind speed meter: feel the wind on your face or neck. Learn the art of sailing which is what really defines sailors.

6.  Disconnect the mobile radio and music equipment. Cut the ties for a while. Silence! Hear the sound of sea waves over the bow, the heartbeat of the candle, the breath of wind.

7.  Do not get fixed to the tiller or wheel. Cede the helm to the crew. How long ago was it that we are not on deck or in her bow with your feet hanging? If you are running before the wind, tie the rudder, balancing the boat with the sails and let it carry. Trust in your boat and crew.

8.  Write a logbook. Describe in detail the trips you make and record the sensations you experience. Save the emotions of each and you can relive them long after. Share these experiences and emotions with others through a blog like this about  how you feel better.

9. Take part in races, if you like, but not thinking about the prize, but instead because you learn to better understand the sea, your boat and yourself. There is no prize more stimulating than learning.

10.  Do not abandon your ship, she never would abandon you.

11. Look at the sea for a while each day, soak in the energy now and take it wherever you go.

~

I used to do a lot of dinghy racing when I was a teenager, but now the mellow philosophy described in the Manifesto appeals to me more.

The keel pieces went on quite easily. In the process,  I learned an important lesson in boatbuilding: – you can’t uncut a piece of wood.  What happened was that I thought I had the length right and cut it only to find that it was about 1/8″ too short.  Normally, you would put it aside and start again, but this was an expensive piece of oak that had a lot of work put into shaping it.  Luckily, the epoxy filler is very forgiving and lets you get away with inadequate joinery skills.  We are spoiled when we work a lot on computers with the ability to click on “undo” and revert to before the mistake with only the loss of some time.

Still trying to fit on all the pieces around the keel, the skeg and stem.  It may not have been the best decision to use white oak for these.  It should be very durable, but working it with hand tools is difficult and it goes almost beyond my strength to plane a lot off, it is like planing a piece of iron.  I feel that if the wood were a little softer, I would spend more time getting the shape just perfect, but with the oak, unless you have a lot of diamond tipped tools, it is tempting to give up earlier and say it is good enough.

Jay and I got the last plank on – the whiskey plank.  We also filled the gaps at the laps of the planks with a fillet of epoxy and worked on shaping the pieces of the keel around the centerboard slot.

Essais du côtre Aurique SEABIRD plan de William FIFE de 1889 construit à BENODET par le Chantier Naval STAGNOL.
Interview de Hubert STAGNOL
Film produit et réalisé par FAC TELEVISION:
http://www.sailingnews.tv/

“There is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats“    Ratty – The Wind in the Willows

Nearly there!  Only one more plank to go and then we will lift her up and free her from the molds that have held everything  in the right shape, straight, true and level.  The hull now has its own existence.  Today, I crawled up underneath the hull to unscrew some screws.  It was exciting to experience what it is like to be inside the boat, even though it was upside down and a limited view I felt I was inside the boat for the first time.  There is a subtle point reached, it is the same when a building is being constructed, when it changes from a construction,  from putting some pieces of wood together in a planned way, to a space you can experience, you can occupy.

It is encouraging to reach a turning point and you can’t help thinking ahead to what will be done in the second half of the construction, such as what color to paint her, a name for her,  how to get sails made and what wood to use for the thwarts and floor boards.  The hull will be painted inside and out because  my carpentry skills are not good enough for the planks to be varnished; I had to lean heavily on the help of epoxy glue to make the scarph joints in the planks.  The color for the outside will be either blue or green, not white, not black or any kind of brown or red.  I am thinking of either royal blue or  pea green -  like the Owl and the Pussy-cat’s beautiful pea-green boat.  I plan to paint the inside an off white color.  The hull shape is reminiscent of a seed and I am thinking of the white color of the inside of an apple seed.

The trouble with writing a blog is that you record the project in real time.  If three years from now I am still trying to fit out the inside, I will read this entry with embarrassment, thinking optimistically that we could be ready by next spring.  So far it has gone together fairly smoothly, thanks to the kit of molds and planks from Jordan Boats.  From now forward we will be working only from the plans without any precut pieces.

We are approaching a milestone.  The “Whiskey Plank” is the last plank to complete a ship’s hull and traditionally an occasion for a celebration.  It will not be whiskey in our case because I do not drink, but a celebration is in order for this turning point.  We will soon be turning her over to work on the inside.

Naturally you start thinking ahead to the next steps and to when she will be finished and you can go out on the water, perhaps by next spring.  The weather has cooled down and going out sailing, or rowing, or even just  floating, seems appealing.  It is possible to envision it now.

As a break from putting the planks on, which is becoming a routine process, I started fitting the outer keel and stem.  There is a lot of fitting and adjusting needed to make the splice joints fit together between the several pieces.

It is fulfilling to see the boat taking shape and also fun writing this blog and getting feedback. I am interested in the differences between what really happens in the garage and the appearance of that as it is expressed in the blog.  The blog has made connections to people; family members in Britain and Italy and friends in Switzerland.  It is great that they can have the vicarious pleasure of fulfilling a dream and working with good tools.  But it is not the reality, they don’t get the warm feel or the smell of the wood.  There is an editor standing between them and the garage, putting a good face on things and deciding what is presentable.  For example, I realized that all the photos only show one side of the boat, the starboard side when she is right side up.  The other side is pushed up against the wall with a narrow gap filled with bicycles and stacks of wood.  I could just build half a boat and no one would know – at least until the launch day!

 

We had a productive weekend, two planks got attached.  We also had a moment of cold sweat panic and near disaster.  We had a plank nearly ready to go on, we had sanded the extra glue off the splice joint and all the epoxy was spread along the joints. I was careless in how I picked up the plank and it snapped in two in the middle under its own weight!  We decided to proceed since it would be difficult to scrape off the epoxy.  We fixed the two pieces on and make a splice joint with a patch behind the break line.  In the end it worked out fine and you can hardly tell that anything went wrong.  Epoxy glue is a forgiving material. The patch on the inside may be visible, but if we are lucky it will end up hidden under a thwart.

The hull is really taking shape – I find the the curving lines of the planks are fascinating to look at.  I also find myself doing silly things as I walk past her, I touch the warm wood and I give her a sharp slap on the aft quarters, just to hear the noise she makes!

Another plank is glued on. Side after side, we seem to be able to get one more plank done in each work session. It would be great to step up the pace towards completion a bit more, so that we don’t have to wait too long to go sailing.

Regarding the question of how much give and take there is in the accuracy of the build; the answer came from an unexpected source; I picked up a copy of ‘Mens Journal’ and noticed an article on boatbuilding. The reporter went to the WoodenBoat School in Maine and found a group of middle aged men fulfilling their urge to become boatbuilders. The instructor, Greg Rossel, teaches them to avoid using numbers whenever possible – “anytime you use numbers, things can go wrong”, he says, and “we have to get over this accuracy business”, . . . ” you need to be accurate, but not to a high degree of analness.” If ‘Mens Journal’ says so, it must be okay.