The Gals Who Built the Boats
December 2002 - January 2003
This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
To download a pdf copy of the magazine click here: > DOWNLOAD
by Lee Beliveau
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Imagination is the glue holding it all together. |
Take two mid-aged women with visions of sea kayaking floating in their heads, add two Chesapeake hulls lying in the basement, and we have action.
Jeannette's husband, Keith, had chosen the plan, cut all the sections and carefully wire-stitched the mahogany plywood. Then he became ill and the rest was up to us. With no one to guide us, we spent a fair bit of time reading the instructions and consulting The Kayak Shop (1993) and The New Kayak Shop (2001) by Chris Kulczycki (Ragged Mountain Press). Nervously we discussed the concepts of what went where and what meant what. How do you pronounce "chine" anyway?
We ventured out to the marine shops and bought our first batch of cold cure epoxy, reassured that it would take extra time to set, and we would thus have more time to correct errors. Fiberglass seemed very important. As novice kayakers, we wanted reinforcement on our precious crafts.
We had an open carport to work in, plus a backyard. Jeannette is a sculptor so she had saws and sanders and knew how to use them. Beginning August 15, we collaborated at least once a week on my days off work. We had so many questions.
How to cut the fiberglass and keep the edges from fraying and causing bumps in the glue? How to measure the varying amounts of cold cure, and was that Part A or Part B? Do we have any more gloves somewhere?
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Jeanette cutting the rear hatch. |
There is a fantastic measuring device you can fashion yourself out of a simple piece of wood. It's called a "jig". Once we discovered what it was supposed to do, with the advice of our builder friend Doug, we created one and were delighted to be able to accurately calculate spacing of the coaming edges and nailings.
A discovery was made that Merlot wine went well with late supper barbeques, once we were all cleaned up from the day's work and could celebrate the progress we'd made. When the hulls were dry we could foresee something spectacular. Those boats would actually float.
We became creative. Certain individual talents surfaced. It seemed I had an eye for lining things up and Jeannette had an uncanny ability to recognize when I had something backwards. We came to rely on each other's instincts of doubt and we made no irreversible mistakes. Holding the curved deck in place was handled by strategy and duct tape until those nails were in.
Then the coaming! That's the smooth edging around the cockpit over which the kayak skirt fits. Building it seemed like a high level skill to me. Our design was a keyhole shape that required layers of plywood glued together and held every few centimeters by our large supply of hefty clamps. Doug helped us with this endeavour in the template stage, then sat back to watch us wrestle with the wood. Shaping and innovating, we made the opening an inch wider and the depth one thickness higher. Sanding the edges with a disk grinder, I felt like a dentist with my first patient. By August 24, we performed our first trimming of the deck and coaming with a plane. We even saved a few shavings from this first "haircut" for our journal.
Yes, we did remember to put rudder tracks, pedals and cables on before the deck went on. We shopped four locations for hardware and accessories. Originally we planned to make our own seats but found suitable ones at a kayak shop instead.
Did I say Jeannette actually knew what "scarfing" meant? She did that part all by herself, fashioning symmetrical noses for the girls. I noticed her holding her breath as she smoothed two plywood edges together until they were nicely spliced. Very impressive. As we glide over the water now, we peek over the blue cosmetic noses she sculpted.
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Lee showing off her finished creation. |
More epoxy. Good thing we understood why only a light coat on the underside of the deck was recommended so it could be bent into shape. Bit of a glitch though, comprehending what was meant by "unthickened," plus the fact that I placed the pieces upside down. You see, I thought unthickened was a term for unhardened. So I spread only Part A and added no part B, the hardening agent. Alas, we soon found out this would leave only a "forever sticky" surface. Then what to do? How do you remove it? And/or harden it? We tried wiping it off. Amazing how it seemed to reappear. We called the manufacturer. There were suggestions but no one was giving any guarantees. Try acetone first, they said. Maybe, Jeannette thought, we could use the hair dryer to heat it up and then remove it. With a glimmer of hope, she whisked away to the hardware store and bought a heavy duty hot air gun. It worked! To justify the cost, she reassured herself she could use it again later with her art work.
One evening, as we pushed on to finish one more task before dark, we looked up to see our neighbour with his extension light pointed over the fence. If it hadn't been for him we might never have put those rudder holes in the right place.
One sunny day, we sat in our boats on the back lawn and pretended we were on the ocean. It was actually coming together. And, they no longer looked like canoes.
We sanded. Wet, dry, by hand, and with an orbital sander. We debated. What did "smooth" really mean? What did they mean by bubbles? How big were allowable? What if you sanded too much?
The handmade sawhorses gave way, knock-kneed, a few times. The boats were lifted in and out of the basement window once they looked tempting enough for someone to steal from the open carport.
After we bought paint and read the fine print, we discovered it was not compatible with the epoxy. Plan B: we decided to have a body shop spray them with polyurethane paint. October 30, the rainy evening we picked them up, the entire shop room shone a shocking brilliant blue. A bit much! We reassured ourselves that we'd love them anyway. And we do. On their own turf (or sea) with a trim of black webbing and bungy, they look sleek and they move like dolphins.
Summer of 2002 has been a whole new set of adventures as we learn to read the waters. We murmur expressions of peace and tranquillity from the floating perspective.
And you know, it's a bit like walking a dog. Everyone approaches us with friendly greetings. They pat our kayaks, and we wag our tails.
© Lee Beliveau, of Surrey BC began writing on a quest to illustrate the world of the professional nurse. Her balance for this demanding role comes with retreat to nature. Kayaking is her ultimate solace.