What I learnt from building a wooden boat during lockdown
I had tinkered with the idea of building a wooden boat from scratch for a few years. Then along came Coronavirus and lockdown. Little did I know that as well as building a boat by hand, I’d learn some important lessons along the way.
While living in Berlin, I loved the River Spree and imagined building a small boat to explore the waterways around the city during summer.
I even bought a plan from a boat designer, measured our apartment balcony to see if there was enough space to build it, and tallied up the cost of purchasing the materials.
Fast forward a few years to Sydney, and living within walking distance of the harbour had me thinking and talking about building a boat, a lot. But one thing or another always got in the way of my little dream. Where would I build it? Where would I store it? And most importantly, when could I find the time to dedicate to building it?
Then along came Coronavirus, lockdown, Easter and the forecast of fine weather. But becoming a novice boat builder also taught me much more than just building a boat.
Lesson 1: Commit. Stop talking and just do it
An oldie but a goodie. My dearest wife has heard about “Guy’s Plan to Build a Wooden Boat” for some time, and to her credit never doubted me. But it did take her subtle prompting of “Darling, why don’t you just build it?” to shake me out of the prolonged planning phase.
That prompting, and looking ahead to the prospect of a long weekend at home during lockdown with nothing planned, meant I saw the opportunity I’d been waiting for — literally four days to myself to cut, shape and glue together a boat.
I’ll add that committing to build was put into hyper-drive by the supplier of my boat building materials.
Within 30 minutes of placing my order, a ute pulled up outside our apartment and I was helping to unload (at a safe distance!) 3 sheets of 6mm marine plywood, 6 litres of epoxy resin and all the accessories I needed to build a boat. Surrounded by the materials and means to build a boat, that’s when reality of the project really hit me. There was nothing standing in my way of doing this.
Lesson 2: The value of an escape craft
Something happened to me on the first day of the build. I carefully measured out the large sheets of plywood, and cut out the shape of the bottom and side panels with a circular saw.
With those first cuts there was no turning back. (I was also making a lot of racket on Good Friday, and by the afternoon, the spectacle of ‘the crazy guy making the boat in the carpark’ was the Easter weekend entertainment my neighbours in isolation needed). I found I was enjoying making something with my hands, and I was completely escaping into the craft of boat building.
Admittedly I grew up around boats, helping my father maintain large timber boats in the family when he was home from sea on leave. So, I knew a few basics such as how to wield a saw, hammer a nail, scrape off barnacles, caulk a crack in a wooden hull, and even how to coax a huge Gray Marine diesel engine into life. Later as a student, a friend and I shared a weekly gardening job that included sanding down and painting a yacht hull for an old yachtie before twilight regattas.
But this was different. This was my boat, and whether it floats or sinks, or how it performs will depend on my near novice craftsmanship.
I was also reminded of a radio feature story I produced in Berlin about the Making Waves project and a group of refugees, some of whom had risked their lives in boats to reach Europe, who were building a wooden motor yacht to explore the city’s waterways and literally escape from the reality of their lives as refugees.
Filming the refugees planing and sanding wood, I could see for all of them that the goal of finishing the boat was important. However, I now know that the hours of concentrating on craft were also like a form of meditation, and a way to escape being displaced from their home.
Practising the craft of boat building was already part of their escape. And during a pandemic, the craft of building a boat was also welcomed a form of escape for me too. I just needed to do it to realise how valuable it is.
Lesson 3: Understanding design intent
Building a boat is a complex project. I was confident that I had selected a very good design. At first reading, the plans made sense. I had also watched videos and poured over photos of other people building the same boat. I had visualised myself following the steps to success.
However, I soon learned that what I was building was not a flat-pack, Ikea-like project.
Sure, you can purchase expensive pre-fab, pre-cut boat kits, and join the dots, however you might miss out on perhaps the most challenging, yet the most satisfying part of building a boat — using your brain.
I learnt that building a boat requires a holistic understanding of the design; asking yourself: why is it designed like that? Time and time again, understanding the intent of the boat designer and the vision of his design proved to be more important than slavishly following a process.
By understanding the design, I quickly became adept at interpreting the plans and adjusting the building process. Sometimes that was due to weather (temperature will effect the curing time of epoxy), sometimes that was due to using available tools (I need a good set of wood chisels). The ability to switch between zooming in to detail, and zooming out to see the big picture kept me on track.
Practising this skill through craft is good practice for anyone who needs to switch between meta and matter in their work.
Lesson 4: Boats are living things
While building the boat I was reminded of the excellent Steward Brand series: How Buildings Learn.
Throughout the build, I got the sense that my boat was talking to me and it knew whenever I attempted to take a short cut.
Over time, because I understood the versatile design of the boat, I felt confident to adapt where I needed.
For example, the original design calls for a quite substantial, chunky keel running the length of the boat. I first made it to specification, and it gave me the another opportunity to practice making a scarf joint — a super useful technique for joining two long pieces of wood together. However, when it came to fitting the keel, I thought a better alternative might be possible — the boat was sort of talking to me.
Fortunately, buried in the plan notes the designer covered tuning the keel — basically leaving it up to the boat maker to determine the keel depth. I ended up making the keel more like a thin stringer and fitting a modest skeg.
In the water, the boat goes straight and turns when I want it to turn!
Lesson 5: There’s something people love about a wooden boat
On the day of finally testing the boat, I decided to bring it down to Double Bay on the harbour and launch from the beach — a test in calm waters.
No sooner had we parked the car, the compliments from passersby started rolling in, yet the boat was still upside down on the roof racks.
The same thing happened at harbour beaches where we stopped for breaks. People were intrigued and wanted to take photos of the boat.
Now, I am proud of my first attempt at boat building, but as the builder I have a fairly critical eye — I see the elements of my finest novice craftsmanship, and I also know where I still have much to learn.
Yet, there’s something people love about the natural finish of a wooden boat. Maybe it’s the warmth of wood grain accentuated by resin and glossy varnish? Maybe it’s the contrast of colours of darker plywood on the hull and lighter pine for the gunwales? I’m not sure the boat would have attracted so much interest if I had painted over the wood in a colour.
Maybe natural finish wooden boats are a little like vinyl records, and film cameras?
Lesson 6: Pursuing dreams inspires your children
Along with my wife, my son has heard about Dad’s plans to build a boat for a long time. The instant he heard it was actually going to happen, he wanted to help and be part of the action.
For an eight year old, helping to build the boat meant learning new things such as how to mix resin, how to use fibreglass tape to join the chines, and learning how to best wield a saw and use a hammer, just as my father taught me. It also meant a lot listening to Famous Five audio books while he watched me work. Sanding can be a boring.
But as lengths of wood were joined together, the boat started emerging as a real thing from his own imagination, and he would often say: “I can’t believe we are actually building a boat”.
That’s quite a special thing, and I know it kept me motivated to keep going and finish what I had started.
Captain Joshua Slocum circumnavigated the globe solo in 1896 and offered this description of life on Sydney Harbour during his visit.
“In Sydney I saw all manner of craft, from the smart steam-launch and sailing cutter to the smaller sloop and canoe pleasuring on the bay. Everybody owned a boat. If a boy in Australia has not the means to buy him a boat he builds one, and it’s usually not one to be ashamed of.”
I wonder how building a simple wooden boat might inspire him in life.
I’m certain in the meantime, he’ll help me build Boat №2.
The boat
- Quick Electric Canoe, from designer Michael Storer
- Length: 4.7 metres
- Beam: 1.10 metres
- Powered by a 34lb thrust Watersnake Venom electric trolling motor
- Build time: approximately 6-7 days
