A few weeks ago I slipped off to sail my tiny homemade boat.
It was late September. The month had been inordinately rainy. I fretted over lost summer days. I also worried that playing on the lake was a distraction from other duties.
In the end I decided that there’s only so much of “me” left. In a world of endless “tasks”, one must draw a line somewhere. Luck was on my side and I found a few hours of heaven between days of rain.
At first it was a mite sketchy. The smaller the boat, the bigger the adventure. I bobbed about on choppy waves like a cork in a blender. The wind varied between moderately strong and angry gusts. It came at me from all points in the compass. I had my hands full.
Through it all, my sailboat performed admirably. It’s a plucky little bugger. Frankly, it does more than I’d reasonably expect of such a small craft. Still being a novice sailor, I had to stay alert to keep things under control; but the craft was more stable than the operator. I took no photos.
Eventually, the winds calmed. I shook out the reefs (going from partial sail to full sail), hoisted everything to it’s full glory, and relaxed. I finally had a chance to use my camera.
I’m still experimenting with sail shape. I’m sure a true sailor could wring more power from the wind. That said, it’s something like 89 square feet and for such a small boat it feels like a towering affront to Poseidon. Sailing feels very much like you’re meddling with elemental forces; an aquatic version of playing with fire.
The experience of sailing a boat you personally constructed is sublime. Far beyond what you’d expect from a couple sheets of plywood and a bucket of epoxy. If it’s in your head, make it happen.
I guess what I’m saying is that any boat can be beautiful and even a chimp can make one (at least one like mine). So if you’re thinking about it… stop thinking.
Also don’t fret over buying plans. I think the design is surprisingly elegant, well worth a few bucks. The boat does more than it should. I suspect there’s a reason for that. Some very special math resides behind what looks like a floating box. I’m glad the wizards who design these things offer the plans on-line for chump change.
Soon the winds were perfect. I meant this boat to be a lake explorer and I intended it for light winds. It ghosts along flawlessly in hardly a breath of wind… just as I’d hoped.
There will come a time when I’ll set out with camping gear and grand visions. For now, I’m pleased with myself just sailing away from the launch ramp and eventually getting back. I can’t go too far until I can make it go more or less where I want it. But the boat is willing and I’m starting to get the hang of it. Maybe next year?
My oars are mismatched. I sanded and re-varnished one (port side). It’s pretty spiffy. The other side (starboard) hasn’t been sanded yet. (Sanding took longer than expected. The oars are probably 30 years old and work perfectly well.) I sailed with mismatched oars and it was no big deal. Never let “perfect” be the enemy of “go now”.
The rigging at the mast’s base is “version 2”. I had one version that worked. I’ve “upgraded” to a more elaborate that that’s better.
There’s always room to improve. They say you’re never truly done building a boat. At first that sounded depressing. Now I see it as an advantage.
By now I was at total peace. I’d left the ramp with a thousand competing mutually exclusive problems competing for headspace. On the water I realized that whatever happens in life… at that particular moment I was doing the right thing.
The sun sunk to the horizon. The winds died to almost nothing. This is another part of my experimentation. It’s surprisingly easy to go far. Time slows and then you’re miles and miles from your plans. This doesn’t happen while hiking. I need to know I’m always going to get back, even if conditions change.
No, I don’t have a motor. For this craft I don’t intend one.
I drifted along on a breeze that would scarcely move a dandelion. If I hadn’t tempted fate by sailing so late I could have just drifted home. It might have taken hours but what better way to spend hours? Alas, it was going to be a moonless night. I was a few miles out. As always, I was solo and had no other recourse but to solve my own problems.
As the last hint of breeze ended, the lake turned glassy smooth. This is all part of the plan.
A boat that will leave you stranded if there’s no wind is a boat I can’t sail into the wilderness. I meant to be able to row when I can’t sail. I tied the rudder straight, retracted the daggerboard, unfolded a little seat, and started rowing. This, like everything, requires practice. I plan to modify my craft so the sail is bundled and tied above your head when rowing. It was dead silent. Most people never hear silence.
Before I made waves I snapped one last photo.
I suppose it’s unwise to get back after dark but I did it anyway. I could’ve rowed several more miles. It’s slow but peaceful.
I didn’t know that was going to be summer’s last hurrah. I left the boat on it’s trailer just waiting for another chance… but the rains are fading into snow and I’m burning firewood instead of amassing it. October is coming on hard. I have a long slog ahead of me before I do this again.
Few people have experienced the joy you just described.
I was thinking that. I hope a few folks can enjoy it second hand. There’s something very fulfilling about floating about in a boat you built and also something equally fulfilling about making a boat go where you wish with just a sail or oar or paddle.
Which plans did you get?
I bought OZ Racer RV plans by Michael Storer for $30. I ordered a download through Duckworks. It was money well spent. For a beginner like me it would’ve been a bargain at twice the price (though I might not have known the plan’s true value at the beginning of the adventure).
The design I followed is a non-compliant variant of Puddle Duck Racer (PDR). It’s a dirt simple design that works better than it ought to. You can read all about PDRs at pdracer.com. In fact, pdracer.com has all sorts of free plans available. The site is free; they sell spiffy hull plates and such to eek out a shoestring budget. I made a small donation to pdracer.com. For a beginner like me, the info was very much appreciated and I wanted them to have a few bucks to keep up the good work.
There is no reason why you can’t build a PDR based entirely on free data; most do. However, I think tossing $30 at Michael Storer for essentially an entire book on how to build a boat and a similar amount to pdracer.com for a zillion pages of very specific ideas & inspiration was an “investment”. The boat I made is way better than anything I could’ve made with trial and error on my own. If I build a second boat (which is almost inevitable) the knowledge I got from those two sources, plus the hands on building of my own craft, is like a year’s worth of college learning. (Maybe more, how much does one learn at college anyway?)
One more point, I’ve read (and from my limited experience believe) that it’s one thing to build a boat and a whole different kettle of fish to design it. It’s a lot of work to make a boat so following a design (even if you deviate following your personal tastes) is a good way to make sure the resulting boat doesn’t suck. (This is an important feature of plans, you can find feedback from someone… maybe even dozens… who’ve already built the design and sailed it. If you see a lot of comments like “it capsizes on Tuesdays and drifts in circles the rest of the week” you know to avoid it.) More importantly, you get specifics. If the plans say “the daggerboard needs to be dimensions X * Y * Z with funky elaborate parabolic curved shape as outlined on page 6” there’s a good chance someone put some deep thought into it. If you just hack a shape at random, the boat will probably still work, but it may be something less than great. Knowledge is worthy of your money (within reason) just as much as materials and tools.
That said, if you know what you’re doing, have experience with boats and carpentry, are broke, or just like adventure… don’t fear to build without a plan or based on free ones. Don’t let me hold you back.
One last note. I simply love my OZ Racer RV, but knowing what I do now, if I could go back in time I’d make the nearly identical but slightly bigger OZ Goose. No regrets, I knew nothing at the start, had a blast building it, and got a great boat. But I’ve been impressed by the single OZ Goose I’ve seen in person. It’s only a smidge more build materials and time but a lot more performance. Just puttin’ it out there.
If you’re thinking of doing it… do. You’ll thank yourself in the end. (Though you may grumble a bit during the build.)
Good luck.
So, a topping lift, or switch to a loosefooted spritsail? ‘twould fill in the long winter evenings…
I only know half those words. I think I’ll stick with the same sail, complete with head bashing boom, and just figure out an adaptation. The coolest option is to build a retractable “sail holder”, the most “sailor-ish” solution is doing it with the existing rigging.
I have, at least once, used the existing rigging to lift the sail above my head for convenient rowing. It worked but was inelegant.
You’re right about long winter evenings, every hour sailing comes with a free bonus hour of anticipation and a couple hours of happy memories and ideas about how to do it better next time.
A topping lift is a line from the masthead to the aft end of the boom, and a lf spritsail would use practicaly the same sail but with a longer boom going to the top aft corner. Look up Thames Sailing Barges. You’d lose some downwind poke but gain convenience and light air performance. Either one wouldn’t be dramatic or irreversible, and you’d have almost instant ability to stow the sail and row or dock or whatever without the boom in the way. Two topping lifts would also work like a cradle to hold the whole sail in a neat bundle off the deck, like the Chinese do on junks.
The nearest patch of water bigger than a puddle hereabouts is 100km away, so your adventures, written so well, are the next best thing. Stay safe, and may your woodpile be abundant.
Topping lift eh? I’m going to look into that. I’m not a big fan of extraneous lines cluttering the tiny boat but lines weigh almost nothing and can be added or removed at will. It’s an idea I’ll have to test before I start over-engineering some heavy contraption that has unforeseen drawbacks.
Unfortunately I may have run out of time. It has been cold and miserable for weeks. I’m burning wood instead of accumulating it.
I think I’m going to start greeting people with your last line. “Hello, I’m Curmudgeon, may your woodpile be abundant”. I like it. Has a redneck Spock vibe that makes me smile.
You achieved Smile because of me? Ok, then I should let you know the topping lift goes from mast foot OVER masthead to end of boom.Don’t lose either end. Can also be misused for hauling inappropriate signals or National Standards. Because of you I’ve looked closer at the PD Goose line….crikey, these folks know what they’re doing!
Since you’ve made a crude working desktop experiment model of your Vessel (capitalised because I don’t have one), and your wood shall indeed be abundant (it was an order to the minions, they don’t rate requests), you’ll enjoy many toasty coffees, whisky’s and purring non-imbecilic felines on the creaky midleg former bendy thing (knee) while you figure out what best fits you and your nefarious plans to enjoy yourself when Ragnarok LXVii is over, and apprentice curmudgeons such as myself cringe at your heels and wish we were you while subsidising the replacement melanin people. A chalkboard or slate is good, especially to preserve evidence of time well spent. Wish I was there, it would be an honour to be thrown out of your workshop.
So is an overwinter Goose in your future?
Instead of squirrels, of course…
I have a 12′ sailing skiff thing that has a bad floor. A few years back I lacked the skills to fix it (I tried!) in a post “built a boat” world I think maybe I can fix it this time. I may have to build a moat around my workshop to get the time to do it though.
That said, a Goose from scratch would probably be a faster easier build than darned near any other option. Also, you can use the same sail, mast, yard, boom, and rigging between a PDR and a Gooze. I find that amazingly cool.
AC, you write more beautifully and lyrically about the outdoors, and your life, than 95% of the outdoor writers I’ve read. If I’m not inspired by your writing, I’m lifted up a little from my dreary life. Thank you.
Glad you liked it.
Mr. Adaptive-
Thank you again for sharing, it’s always enjoyable.
Glad to.