The
maiden voyage at Kailua Beach on Oahu
The
maiden voyage at Kailua Beach on Oahu
The origins of the project lie in the distant past, when first I pondered graduate study in philosophy at the University of Hawai'i. The move was terrifying, first because it involved large amounts of water, and secondly because of the necessity of going by public carrier. In Montana, almost everyone drives everywhere they want to go, partly because there is not much public transport, and partly because no one wants to go someplace that lots of people want to go (and will even give up the use of an automobile to get there). So moving to an island in the middle of the Pacific meant that I had to acquire some ability in self-sufficient transportation, just in case I ever wanted to leave on my own. Call it American self-reliance, or call it paranoia.
I have owned a Grumman 17-foot canoe since highschool. Having a hull at hand, I set about making it sail. With the installation of a couple mast partners, and steps, and cobbling together a set of leeboards, I mounted cotton canvas sails (much cheaper than "real" sailcloth, which I was hardpressed to find in Montana anyway) on lodgepole pine spars and was in business. Maybe I overdid it. Ninety square feet of sail was a tad too much for most conditions, and the water in Montana lakes is famously cold. The canoe would capsize of itself with the sails raised, unless there was a body aboard to hold it down. Under a stiff breeze you really needed three people to hike out and prevent a knockdown. But it really would go fast. The sailing Grumman even took a trip down the scenic Missouri River, and in the last leg had two other canoes rafted to it with a fair wind behind.
The Grumman stayed in Montana. Arriving in Hawaii I found myself, and wife and daughter, living in a small one-bedroom apartment, with no working space at all. The idea of getting out on the wide open seas was very appealing, if only to escape from the congestion of Honolulu. I researched canoe construction techniques, finding Tom Hill's Ultralight Boatbuilding and Rushton and his Times in American Canoeing very useful. Glued lapstrake and a traditional design seemed like a good combination, so I took lines from a drawing of Rushton's "Princess" model, added four inches to the beam and made a few other changes and guesses, and eventually made a set of molds and the bow stem. Fortunately, that is as far as the project got at that point. I really had no room to set up a building frame. Instead I ended up buying a near derelict 23' Maya sloop that was anchored at Ke'ehi Lagoon. My energies shifted to replacing cabin sides, making hatches, building an aft deck and cockpit, and occasionally sailing.
Troubles with my dinghy resurrected the canoe project after some nine years. Several times the dinghy "went missing" from the dock, making it very difficult to get to the sailboat out on its mooring. At one point I replaced it with a two-man inflatable, more of a bathtub toy than a boat. In the summer of 1997, however, someone cut the dinghy loose, and the idea of a cartop-able boat reasserted itself, and stuck even after the dinghy (yet again) was recovered.
Actually the dinghy incident was only a catalyst, though. Ke'ehi Lagoon is probably one of the best anchorages in the Hawaiian islands. Originally it was a fishpond, later a dredged out water runway for the first commerical flights to paradise, and now a small boat harbor. For years small boat harbors were the beneficiaries of benign neglect of the Department of Transportation, which no doubt had more important things to do next door in Honolulu Harbor, where all of the goods for the island arrive in huge container ships. But then the small boat harbors were tranfered to the purview of the Department of Land and Natural Resources. I assume that harbors come under the "resources" part. Where Ke'ehi had been the last resting place for any number of craft, the sort of thing you would expect so far from any other landfall, the DLNR set about cleaning the lagoon up, removing derelicts, siezing boats, and instituting a mooring permit system and a poorly designed set of bouys, and evicting as many liveaboards as possible. There have been rumors, unsubstantiated because they are just rumors, that a Japanese development had put money in the right places to be able to develop the lagoon, which meant making the case that it was underutilized as a small boat harbor, which would be easy once enough permits were revoked and vessels impounded, and not just impounded but destroyed. That's just a rumor. In any case, dealing with new administrative rules that appeared out of nowhere and fees and implicit threats of boat siezure have made low-budget boating in Hawaii much less fun than it used to be. Unless, of course, one could build a cartopable sailing canoe!
The molds came out. Luckily, we had moved into a house, which as if often the case in Honolulu does not have a yard or basement or garage. But it does have some space underneath where I managed to set up a cramped workshop. Wood for a frame was purchased, and a space cleared out, and plans were reviewed. The overall length was limited by the area I had to build in, with the original 13'6" becoming only 6" greater. Frame, molds, and back bone were set up. The garboard rabbet was a source of endless trouble, as was getting the proper taper to the ends of the keel. The 1/4" plywood sheets had to be scarfed outside, and stored under the eaves, and planks marked, cut, and then brought to the workshop.
The garboard was the most difficult to fit, having the greatest twist and being the widest plank. A plethora of clamps were made from 1X2 pine furring strips and 1/4" bolts, each with its own wedge.
The sixth plank goes on the starboard side. Not until it was too late did I realize the importance of fairing plank edges as they were put on. Or for that matter, of lofting changes to a design. Fortunately, lapstrake is rather forgiving.
Photo documentation is also not my strong suit. The sixth plank on the port side. Ladder frame supporting molds is visible here. The large variety of clamps and braces utilized is apparent. One can never have too many clamps. The use of levers toward the bow, tied off with cordage on the opposite side, made up for not having quite enough.
The sixth planks promted the most photos. Notice the C-clamp on the stem, the spring and bar clamps in addition to the more traditional (and cheaper) lap clamps. Epoxy is easier to clean up before it is hard.
The hull, removed from molds and turned over. The outside rails, scarfed together from salvaged teak, are being glued in place. The hull is quite flexible at this stage. Weighed in at about 44 pounds.
Clinch-nailing the dozen steam-bent oak ribs into place. Amazing how much of a bend hot oak will take in the ends. The ribs might be overkill. The laps of the planking result in a virtual hull thickness of almost half an inch, and function like stringers, so minimal internal framing is needed. But they look so nice, and it's so much fun to steam bend wood!
Here the bulkheads, ribs, inwale, and breasthooks are in place. The daggerboard trunk is fitted, with the appropriate deck beams installed. Knees for the deck around the cockpit are strewn about, waiting final fitting.
Close-up of daggerboard trunk area. Trunk is supported by logs of hardwood (unidentified) screwed to the keel, and a cap that is let into the aft deck beam and forward bulkhead and deckbeam ahead of that. The 2" copper mast tube is flanged over the cap, and fitted into a step also fastened to the keel. The interior has been given a coat of epoxy followed by varnish.
Decking
laid, and coaming being glued in place. Coaming itself made of two layers
of 1/8" plywood, epoxied together, and fastened to knees where possible.
3/8" square oak glued to deck and top of coaming, providing a groove for
a spray skirt.
A
boat has to have a good looking behind, at least.
The part of the project that raised the most questions was extracting the finished boat from the crawlspace under the house. With an "ingenious system of pulleys and levers", this was done without major rearrangement of any carpentry.
The name is after the last Danish Viking king of England.
The Maiden voyage
The sail rig is under development, as all sail rigs should be. If only
I had a "under Construction" icon to insert here. The daggerboard fits
into a slanted trunk, and is curved both to clear the mast immediately
ahead and to move the Center of Lateral Resistance aft. The rudder is controlled
by means of a yoke and tiller stick that is moved fore and aft, though
I forget which way for port or starboard.
Canute has been around for quite some time now. One of the craft's nicest features is the stares as you drive around with a wooden boat on the top of your car.
I must repeat advice that I got, and of course ignored: Use the highest
quality plywood you can get. Canute has had problems with unsightly
finish failure, and resulting delamination, which has called for
epoxy injections, and so forth. Finally a stripping and recoating
with better epoxy was necessary, as the boat was filling with with water.
(Actually, just enough of a leak to keep the bilge wet.)