The decade from 1960 on was pivotal in the affairs of man and pivotal in the affairs of Scruffie Marine.
1960 was the last year I regularly raced sailing dinghies and it was the year I survived several shocking capsizes in the frigid waters of the UK East Coast. This was not, I felt, the way to the warm glow of satisfaction I expected from childhood readings of Swallows and Amazons, while some wonderful sailing times were still to come, racing had lost its appeal. I resolved to voyage instead but first there was study.
By 1963 I was at Art School full time when such things were completely free and encouragement was generous. This was a time when we studied the relationships between form and function, and between aesthetics and efficiency, for while the course was fine art based, those enlightened educators insisted on a well-rounded, all-encompassing first year introductory course. Its effect was profound for I embarked on a lifelong study of all things related to water, particularly boats.
We studied the human form, we studied many beautiful works of man and gods, and we also studied, albeit briefly, fish. Now there’s a lot more to fish than chips. They are, for starters, amazingly efficient creatures, some reaching astonishing speeds, some diving to impossible depths and some even flying. In the 18th Century naval architecture turned a new page and inspired by fish formula, promoted the “Cod’s Head Mackerel Tail” theory of design. Remember the film “Master and Commander?” – It’s a good history documentary too.
In the late 19th Century Joshua Slocum circumnavigated the world in his converted fishing boat “Spray” which featured, you guessed it, a rather fishy hull shape. Variations of that boat still sail the seven seas.
But back to the sixties. In giving up a none too promising racing career, I began to search for answers to the perennial challenges facing all designers of cruising boats – that is how to reconcile a set of wholly inconvenient but necessary compromises. Life, however, got in the way so it wasn’t until the late eighties that the on tenth scale Scruffie 16 model was built and all the compromises were keenly agonised over again.
The first full-sized Scruffie 16 sailed in 1990 but by number two the racer in me started to refine the boat and by boat number eight a number of changes had been made, even though the basic hull remained the same as it is today. Quite soon then, the keels grew deeper, the rudders better profiled (think of fish tail fins), the sails subtly re-designed, jibs added and a host of other small but significant improvements were made. You can’t stand still, can you? Then came the Shimmy 12, the 16’s smaller sister and in some ways the nicer boat, and closer perhaps to the simple cruising ideals of Arthur Ransome. The very basic early Scruffie 16s were too compromised in an effort to produce a cheap, knockabout boat and as they became more sophisticated and thus more expensive, the Shimmy 12 went back to those early ideals, virtually unchanged from boat number one and with nearly eighty boats sold, she’s still very much in production.
Shimmy No 78
Recently we built Shimmy number 78 for a Bellingen family – two busy doctors and two sons. Now there’s a powerful argument for kits – it’s quite simple but increasingly relevant. It’s time saved – our kits are delivered with pretty much everything you need to build the boat. Kits equate to no time sourcing parts and much less time building and so more time boating. And if you are not up to the task, or simply can’t wait, our kits are so quick to assemble that we can build them for you at a very reasonable price – which was the case with No 78 – they couldn’t really justify the time to build.
Of course plans are even cheaper and these days often free, particularly for flat-bottomed skiffs but they too have their compromises and, of course, it’s up to each builder to carefully weigh up the pros and cons. The fact remains, however, that in our Brave New Corporate Utopian World not many of us can spare much time for the pleasures of even basic boating, let alone the creative satisfaction of sailing your own dream. The Shimmy 12 then, really is a good compromise – of course I’m bound to say that, but here’s an awful lot of research and development gone into that little boat, a lot of serious voyaging too. The runs are on the board without a doubt – there’s not many 12-footers that can safely circumnavigate Kangaroo Island.
I can build a Shimmy in three weeks by myself without overtime. Our customers will take longer of course, but I’ll take you through the basic stages with No 78 – it’s quite straightforward.
First up Shimmys are unlike any other small production sailing boat in that they have a fixed keel which makes building set-up a breeze and helps to endow them with Island hopping seaworthiness. The keel is supplied ready to take the pre-jointed stem and stern, you epoxy them all together in an hour or two, and when cured set them up level and plumb on a pair of saw stools.
Next cut the ply tabs to release the frames and bulkheads and trim the slots and tabs to enable them to fit together. It’s just a big, simple, 3D jigsaw really. You do this “dry” first. Then join the seat parts together with ply pads and fit to the framework. The whole assembly is now fitted to the keel via the pre-cut slots and once the dry run is completed to your satisfaction, you can glue it all together with more epoxy – we use Bote-Cote. Use a spirit level to check everything and use scrap wood battens and the odd clamp to brace it up and that’s it – hull in frame.
Next up is fitting the transom and various bevelled battens to take the stringers and sides. We do most of this prior to assembly but it’s either or. Then it’s time to fit the laminated stringers. These come in pairs and are cut to fit at the bow, and laminated together to form a strong yet lightweight corner or chine to the hull. At the stern they are held in place by a transom slot – see photo No 1.
Fairing, floorboards, sanding, and sides
Now take a break from building and start coating and sanding and coating and sanding. Boring, yes, but if we do it at this stage it’s much easier. Basically sand everything is sight. Flatten and sand the seats with a longboard and power sanders of your choice. Apply any coving (filleting) as appropriate and sand all the fiddly bits. Saturate with neat Bote-Cote epoxy thinned down with a little TRPD and GP Thinners so the wood or ply is fully soaked. When dry sand again and try not to go through to bare timber. We then roller on a couple of coats of Wattyl Epinamel 4:1 undercoat. Then sand again, with blocks to ensure you don’t work any hollows into the job.
At this stage you can also fit the floorboards. Shimmys have two fixed side boards but the centre four are removable. We clear coat them and mask off for a strip of non-slip in the centre of each board. Now comes the sides. Very little trimming will be needed but glue blocks on the edges of the seats are epoxied on to help fix the sides. The tabs correspond with the slots in each of the side sections and each panel is screwed to the chines, stem, and glue blocks. We use 25mm x 8 gauge chipboard screws as they don’t need drilling and they’re easy to remove. Once fitted, the protruding tabs are sanded back, filled and a small section of glass tape epoxied on – see photo 2.
The fillets between seat and sides, and sides and bow are important for both strength and appearance so we’ll go through this step by step. The insides of the side panels will be pre-primed, sanded, and undercoated as will the seats, so the coving will be to a finished standard. First carefully sand the joint with coarse paper, using the rounded edge of a small piece of 19mm timber and assorted fingers. Then thoroughly clean the area and coat sparingly with neat epoxy. The filleting mix should be epoxy plus microspheres to a consistency of toothpaste – i.e. it will not slump. Work in a row of filler then work it into a concave section using a rounded stick. The diameter of ours are about 35mm and we keep the stick at an angle of about 45 degrees. The mix should then be pushed into place with excess oozing out top and bottom. This is carefully scraped off with a flat filling-knife and returned to the pot. Repeat with the stick held at a similar angle and try to complete half a boat length in one go.
As the resin begins to set it will begin to become firmer, now’s the time to lightly smooth off with fingers and thinners, smoothing out any irregularities as you go – careful mind, stuffing up is easy. When it’s completely cured you can sand with around 120 grit and it’s ready for undercoating. The same process is repeated at the bow and stern. As you can see in photo 4, a nice neat even cove is important when the top coats are on.
Once the sides are on and sanded, we fit the gunwale trim which is rebated to cover the top of the ply. This boat has Silky Oak and it’s screwed on from the inside.
Turn, turn, turn!
Yes, roll her over and sit her on top of a couple of padded saw stools. The rabbet battens are fitted to the keel first and the chines and other bits planed and sanded off to ensure the bottoms all lay over the frames without any high spots.
So, bottom panels next.
Bow first, these are 4mm –easy to bend – and butt jointed to the sides for the first two or three hundred mil. Dry fitted first, then the joints are liberally coated with the thickish epoxy adhesive mix and screwed down with lots of 25mm chipboard screws. Meanwhile some poor bugger has to crawl underneath and smooth out all the saggy bits – a vital but hardly joyful experience.
The 6mm aft panels are on next and when all is cured and all those screws removed, the whole is planed, sanded and the chines well rounded off. A layer of heavyish glass cloth is screeded on to the 4mm bits to lock it in shape and beef it up. The chines are taped and then all is plastered evenly with filler mix and faired into shape.
Now there what we call the “keel coving batten” which is a concave section of timber glued onto the keel/bottom as in photo 3. This stabilises and strengthens the joint and aids in a nice easy water-friendly flow. Just like the joint between a fish and his dorsal fin.
OK, so more sanding, fairing, coating . . . blah blah blah.
A couple of coats of Epinamel undercoat and sanding, preferably with an air-sander, then final coatings are sprayed on – that was quick! And it’s rolled back over for the home stretch which is fitting all the trims and yet more bloody sanding – still it’s only a 12-footer, thank god.
Meanwhile we’ll have assembled the pre-cut rudder and tiller bits and sanded the hollow mast and yard. These are all clear coated of course, you wouldn’t dare paint that lovely close-grained top quality spar-grade Oregon, would you? Why I’d strike you off the register without so much as a by your leave!
Where was I? Oh yes, the same things apply – first a thinned down coat or two of resin, followed by five or six coats of 2-pack poly or Coelan or whatever – I’m not going to buy into any clear coat debates here.
Lastly, there’s all the chandlery to fit on, sails to be bent on, viewing seats to be sat on and so forth. Three weeks –easy.
Shimmys sit on a custom trailer and the spars (almost) all fit neatly inside with the rudder, hatches, oars and floorboards all fitted and fine for travelling. Tie downs are a pain with small boats, with many a beautifully varnished gunwale ruined by over zealous strapping manoeuvres. We won’t have a bar of it. Shimmys have a 50 x 50 or thereabouts transverse batten shaped to fit in the rowlocks with grooves worked on the outside bits to locate the ropes away from the sides. See photo 7. All our boats have special arrangements to tie them down. You can also see the seat scuppers – neat holes near the transom for fast drainage in rough weather.
Time to deliver, then.
Bellingen is a lovely little town just south of Coffs Harbour which is most definitely not. Spared by the developers iron fist, there are some delightful 19th Century and early 20th Century buildings and more importantly, some excellent ice cream. Lots of green forest and a delightful river – what more could you want? The customer and his family are happy and we had a nice time away from Tamborine, but it’s good to get back to your own fireside.
Sailing the Shimmy is a pleasure in all weathers, but then I would say that, wouldn’t I? Annette and I have been out in some pretty tough conditions but her flared bow, long keel, and low aspect rig copes with it all and she shrugs off the white water with disdain – no unruly slamming or slewing allowed on this little cruiser. Self-draining at seat level is wonderful in such conditions – we’ve even been able to rescue the crews of lesser boats as they turned turtle. We’ve towed pontoons under sail, coped with six passengers – two too many – and given 78 boat owners and their extended families untold happy days of safe cruising.
Of course a longer, narrower centre-boarded, high aspect ratio dinghy will run rings around her, especially to windward but we can be rigged and launched in ten minutes flat and there’s two metres of uninterrupted flat floorboards for camping, dozing off and even horizontal folk dancing in quiet secluded inlets – can’t do that in a racing skiff, can you?
Shimmy – still the one for discerning doctors, cruising kids, Amazon explorers and racy retirees.
But I would say that, wouldn’t I?
We’ve been working on a new retractable electric outboard and I’m glad to report that the prototype is up and running and working well. The Protruar 2 HP based unit was fitted to the new Secret 20 finished just before Christmas. The unit will eventually be available for lots of different boats but it fits neatly and unobtrusively into the counter stern of a Secret or Sienna. I’m really pleased – finally an outboard that doesn’t entail big ugly brackets, heavy smelly cans of fuel and bits of string – way to go. The Protruar people have a 5HP model in the pipeline which would be perfect for the Scintilla but at present we have a good compromise with a standard petrol or 6HP Torqeedo motors lifting up on tracks and full-tilted with the prop back up in the counter. The all important water flows over the hull, smoothed along by a neatly fitting engine hatch.
So, the new retractable unit solves more than a few irritating hindrances. I did consider fitting the unit with servo motors for fully automated push-button operation but that means there’s more to go wrong and frankly, if you can’t manage to manually raise or lower an electric pod, you’ve no business calling yourself a sailor. I comforted myself with designing a pop-up control pod, hidden under a flush hatch on the Sienna 19 but that will have to wait oar the new GRP deck/seat moulds to be built – so many solutions, so little time!
Not really a new model at all, just a new layout and one or two significant tweaks, the hull remains the same – if it ain’t broke etc. But it gives me an excuse for publicity and it’s no worse than the world’s car manufacturers who spend trillions promoting a ‘new model’ which is often exactly the same car with a new grille, new tail lights and new seat colours. So it’s really a new model then – a Scintilla 24 EX (for exploration.)
We’ve been approached by a Brunei based adventure/sail training organisation to provide a number of compact yet sea going boats for a variety of roles, based around an established sail training programme. Our Sienna 19, although developed with exactly that in mind was not suitable as parties of up to 8 needed to sleep onboard during extended voyages. The standard Scintilla 24 fitted the bill and with an interior that was always customised to her owner’s choice, it was relatively simple to accommodate.
Following the brief, the operator’s requirements called for some more significant changes. I widened the cockpit almost to the sides as per our Scintilla 19 and lengthened it by 300ml or so. As a result you can now comfortably seat 6, or 8 at a squeeze. A fold-up table or two can also be accommodated for alfresco dining and dissertation and the boat’s yawl rig makes fitting a decent awning a breeze and a cool one at that. Down below it’s a bit more radical with a fitted head and decent washbasin, a good sized galley, nav station, and bunks for four plus one in a hammock. Hang on, you might exclaim, that’s only five! Where do the other poor buggers bed down? Well they’re banished to the cockpit on li-los or other inflatable devices. But here’s the thing, this is the tropics remember and they’re better off out under the stars and an awning than down below. Nevertheless good ventilation in those latitudes is vital for safety and sanity so there’s lots of opening ports and my patented – well in spirit at least – wind scoop system to force those balmy night zephyrs to where they belong. So we do our best to keep them cool, well fed, well rested, and well happy.
While we’re into Scintillas, one of our European builders, Gerard in France, produces and excellent blog http://scintilla24.blogspot.com.au which provides a good step by step guide to building one. Gerard ordered a kit with a keel prefabricated to take an inboard diesel, clearly shown in the photos. Being from Toulouse he will cruise the Canal du Midi and the Mediterranean, perhaps even as far as Monaco . . . . I am consumed with jealously.
As many of you will know, we’ve been closely involved with education under sail for nearly 2 decades with lots of our boats voyaging here and there with their precious cargos of tomorrow’s mariners. I, for one, am extremely thankful for my own experiences as a young boy on the water – we sailed our own little ship, Graham and I, to far distant islands where smugglers furtively stowed cognac and evaded the revenue cutters. Almost true that for one of the yacht clubs we sailed from was Brandy Hole on the River Crouch, a river with a fine history of alcohol anarchy. To my utter delight I’ve just googled it and it’s still there. So let’s raise a glass to all those who, with patience, guide each generation towards a better, more worldly future with the aid of small ships and infinite horizons.
A while back I was asked to do a sign for our Main Street here on Tamborine Mountain. The timber supplied was neither flat enough or of a size that could fit under the router gantry so I had carved and hand-routered it.
The new one ‘Hidden Woods’ was auto machined from our artwork. First you have to select a slab of the right size and type – stable, not twisted, and thickness to a uniform size. Then the timber is placed on a bed with air suction holding it in place. The overhead router does the rest and does it very well. While I was waiting to pick up the work I had a ‘doh!’ moment – why not do small ones for boats? After all over the years we’ve supplied dozens of name boards for our boats, why not have them sign-written or carved as well? So now you can. We’ll help you decide on the type face, do the layout and have it carved into a nice piece of select timber to match your boat. Talk to us when you’re nearing the launch day and we’ll do our best to give the new girl the name plate she deserves.
Excerpts from my Australian Amateur Boatbuilder column over the last year . . . .
All Tooled Up
We men are hardwired to build things, it’s an inescapable part of our nature - our ancestral DNA – this will to create and it’s a good thing too, this magazine owes its existence to that very compulsion. Women are certainly better at many things in life, and generally nicer too, but when it comes down to building a shelter or a table or a boat, ask a bloke.
I’ve been doing some teaching lately and it’s wonderful to pass on a little part of half a century’s worth of woodworking. And how it changes people! Geoff tells me it’s given him such pleasure to build a simple seat and such confidence in his own ability. That’s because I make him do his homework, of course . . . . . I am well aware though, that sadly there’s an awful lot of knowledge just slipping away – all the minutiae of it, all the little tricks and treats of it – and then there’s the traditional tools of the trade – gradually, almost imperceptibly disappearing. Geoff’s been trying to find a cutting gauge, for instance – pretty much essential for lots of hand crafted joints but there’s none to be found. Marking gauges yes, but the cutting gauge with its tiny triangular blade – well it’s pretty much obsolete. I still use mine occasionally, not much for boatbuilding but I did a lot of furniture last year and all the old tools were back in service. Some of them are family heirlooms and still going strong after a century’s use. You have to pay big money for tools to last a lifetime these days but most were and are simply good, practical, everyday tools that had evolved over the years into the near perfect hand driven machine. My cutting gauge, for its simple efficiency, cannot be bettered, nor can my boxwood spokeshave or my refurbished No 4 plane. Now there’s a thing, possibly one of the most enduring tools in the box, the good old Stanley or Record No 4. When I acquired the plane it needed a bit of TLC so I sent it off to a specialist for some mods – a new laminated Samurai style blade, a new acacia handle, the base machined and a good clean up. The result is wonderful to use and the super sharp blade keeps its edge for ages and boy, does it get a workout.
Older power tools can be worth their weight in gold too. One of my prized possessions is a 1970s Bosch Scintilla drill. Well and truly thrashed in the yard for over forty years and still going strong. Swiss made with roller bearings, it’s never ever been serviced. It’s been dropped, accidentally set on fire, well and truly abused and forced to drill holes in things it was never designed for but, touch wood, it’s still going strong. You can’t say that about today’s Bosch drills, can you? Makitas possibly, I’ve had a fair few Makitas in the shop and yes, they do last well. My Makita belt sander has had an appallingly rough ride and while it’s held together with epoxy and the odd non-standard fastening, it’s still OK. The other day it faltered a bit though – what, breaking down after 315 boats, countless furniture and a new house? Why I only bought it in 1990 – I’ve a good mind to send it right back and demand a refund! Oh, I almost forgot, the boatbuilders’ friend, the compass plane – what a wonderful thing that is, perfect for all those lovely rounded bits that all good boats should have. I still use it for coachroof hatch sections, stern trims, our ‘dashboards’ and in fact it’s been used on every kit and finished boat we ever did. There’s really no substitute for these tools, honed and fine-tuned by generations of artisans and craftsmen – using renewable muscle power rather than coal fired power. It’s up to all of us to continue to use these efficient old instruments and look after them so that future generations can enjoy them as much as we have.
A Plane a Day Keeps the Shrink Away
In the last issue of AAB I enjoyed writing about some of the woodworking tools I use, so I’ll carry on. I got to thinking about my work when Annette asked me recently if I ever felt daunted by it all. ‘No,’ I replied, ‘never! – It’s a joy! I look forward to every day and relish both the challenges and the solutions.’ Part of it is having a good workshop and certainly a good part of it is fine tools. A razor-sharp chisel to pare away a few thou here and there, a thin slice with a beautifully balanced Japanese pull saw, a crisp even shaving from a vintage jointer plane – woodworking is an ancient and fulfilling occupation and I’m privileged indeed.
The jointer is my largest plane and mainly used, as its name implies, for truing up longer stock for accurate jointing, but also just to get a variety of things straight and true. Its extreme length means it only hits the high spots whereas at the other end of the scale, the block plane will follow all the undulations. The shallow angle of the block plane, however, means you can plane end grain satisfactorily and if used diagonally it’s excellent for clearing up irregular and interlocking grains such as European walnut – not that there’s much of that at the local hardware store.
Incidentally, the photo of the new block plane iron clearly shows the machine marks on modern tools. By the time I’ve ground the iron right back beyond the recommended angle and flattened the back on my diamond stone I’ve started to get the thing ready for serious use – Plane on you crazy diamond, you might say if you were a Pink Floyd fan. Speaking of Messrs Floyd, will there ever be anything to rival ‘Dark Side of the Moon?’ Heard some on the radio a while back and I was amazed yet again as to how fresh and exciting it still sounds, even after more than 40 years. Apparently it’s still selling well around the globe as each generation ‘discovers’ its timeless tracks.
More essential workshop equipment . . . . .
1. The Lead Shot
Lead shot is incredibly versatile and we use it for a lot of jobs. It’s the nature of our designs, with their fixed keels, that ballasting cannot be fitted far enough forward in the three quarter keels. To bring the keel forward would upset the boats’ balance, so internal ballast is needed generally under the mast or forwards. Lead-acid batteries are good, of course, but lead shot encapsulated in epoxy is better. The resin/shot mixture spreads the load in the bilges as low as possible and hardens to a solid lump of heavy plastic.
Bagged lead shot is excellent for holding all sorts of materials down while the resin sets. We regularly ‘veneer’ marine ply with 4 or 6mm timber, often over a jig to form curves conducive to the job. The lead inside the bags settles to create a nice, even pressure and if you use epoxy accelerator, they can be removed after an hour or two. Bags of lead shot can also be used anywhere where weight and levers are applied to bend and twist things into shape. Toxic but versatile – don’t forget to use gloves.
2. The ultrasound trolley
Many of our customers are medical people and one of them, a radiologist, had asked me to spend a few hours helping to get the bottom panels on to his boat. While I was there I noticed several hospital trolleys in the workshop – ‘Oh these,’ he said, ‘once the machine is obsolete they sell it off but throw out the trolleys.’ I mentioned that my own wooden trolley – the rolling bench – was well past it – ‘I’ll bring one up,” he replied and so my own ultrasound trolley carries tools, screws, resins, bags of shot, around the yard to wherever they’re needed. The locking castors even hold their own on the sloping entry under the roller door. The trolley is wonderfully versatile – it holds up the ends of spars as they are sprayed, helps me unload heavy slabs of timber unaided and can be moved in an instant.
3. The Glamorous Assistant
No workshop should be without one, quite apart form being a useful source of discarded apparel (see previous blog ‘A Tale of Two Secrets’) the services of a beautiful young woman in your workshop cannot be underestimated. They include:
- Brightening a dull day with a lovely smile
- Sweeping the floor
- Engaging in water fights with your son
- Fetching coffee and snacks
- essential in fact, but contrary to popular belief, few wives ever object to their menfolk engaging an attractive assistant, more often or not they will say something like ‘Look darling, I know you work very hard and I think you deserve someone nice to keep you company and help out in the shed.’
1. David’s Secret
For many years on and off I worked in the building industry – joiner, builder, shop fitter – and on many a job the cry could be heard ‘All architects should be made to build their own xxxxxxxx houses! (Please insert expletive of your choice.) So it should be with boats, and I’m glad to say that I’ve built lots of mine over the years – that way you iron out the faults, fine-tune the process and ramp up the performance – of the boats, that is.
So the request to build a new Secret for David, a Victorian sailor, was greeted with delight – yes delight, for my profession is not simply a job, it is a source of great satisfaction akin to a musician being asked to perform one of his own compositions – and being paid for it – a delight surely, and who could ask for anything else? What’s more, the new Secret is for racing and day sailing with a truncated lowered cabin and lots of little go-faster hull tweaks.
The new Secret was delivered as a kit some years back but the client’s business took off and spoiled any chance of leisurely gentleman boatbuilder activities. He framed her up quite quickly but being a realist, he shipped her back to us for completion.
We finished the framing and stringers, coved, and coated everything and got the sides on in the first week and by week two we had her turned over and ready for the bottom panels and glassing to commence. Turning her over is quick and easy but it requires five blokes, a selection of local and imported beer and exaggerated tales of past exploits afterwards.
Our Secrets have pioneered lots of boatbuilding design systems, including the double chine plus faired strip planking to get a nicely rounded bottom, and the almost undetectable rudder gudgeon system for good water flow, the dovetail keel and, of course, our tried and tested slot-system framing.
Secrets were born of a desire for performance of course, but outright speed was not the sole purpose, for that you need hydrofoils and Formula One technicians. No, Secrets are more a retro take on the racers of a century ago, vintage aesthetics with 21st century attitude, if you like. That they go well is beyond doubt but it’s the whys and wherefores that are of interest. Secret’s deadrise, for instance, the angle of each frame to the keel changes from frame one to ten, flattening as it goes to form a semi-displacement hull. Now there’s a compromise if ever there was one! Semi-displacement hulls are somewhere in between a planing and non-planing hull with the emphasis on all round performance at displacement speeds with the added bonus of adrenaline injection if the wind is strong enough and the crew brave enough. So the flattish aft sections of the Secret will allow her to lift up and fly but it takes more bottle than I have these days. I’ve clocked one at 7.5 knots semi-surfing and Max in the UK has equalled that but double figures will be reached one day. Full main, gennaker, 20+ knots, broad reach – her delivery is in late December so we’ll see.
2. Victoria’s Secret
Having a yard in Main Street means we get a steady trickle of visitors to commission work, buy timber and things, and ask advice. Now in any boatyard you can never have enough rags. Annette does the best – old white cotton sheets and so on, carefully cut into handy resin wipes but my youngest son occasionally brings some up, generally old clothes. Andrew and his partner Christie are a handsome couple – tall, tanned, young, lovely, good natured – much like we all were once, eh?
So last week found me sorting through a big bag of clothes including jeans, tee-shirts, shorts, a little black dress with Aztec detailing, a beaded poly-cotton singlet and something flimsy with ‘Victoria’s Secret’ written on it. In walked a local to enquire about a repair on a caravan. We discussed the job for a while but I couldn’t help noticing he was looking at me in a rather odd way. Now there’s good rags, glad rags, and bad rags, and it was only later that I realised I had sorted the unusable stuff, the girlie bits, into a pile on the bench between us – ready for the tip – and I was wiping my brow with Victoria’s Secret intimates – ‘It was a hot day, Your Honour, I swear!’ My reputation in tatters, I quickly shoved the unmentionables into a plain black garbage bag and sat down with a cup of good strong Dilmah.
After two and a half months, the Secret is ready to go – here she is
We’re often asked about what’s included in our kits so with two Shimmys ordered and ready for shipment, we thought we’d show you.
Not included in the photo are the sails, ropes, chandlery, screws, gloves, hand cleaner etc, but if you look closely you can get the idea of the work that goes into manufacturing our kit sailing boats.
There are several points of interest, firstly the timber is consistently of best quality with close grained clear Douglas Fir for the spars and stringers etc. Both kits are lightweight versions so the masts are hollow, the keels laminated cedar and the stem and stern posts are also cedar as are lots of other parts. The trims are both locally grown Silky Oak and the hatches are laminated in matching timber.
As you can see, the inventories are pretty comprehensive with pretty much everything you need to build a beautiful boat for some serious voyaging.
One boat is for a private owner in northern NSW, the other is the third for a local school, Marymount in Burleigh Heads.
Marymount have a thriving sailing course, part of a very successful sports programme that has produced an Olympic medalist, no less. Bravo Marymount and thanks for the order!
Schools get special treatment, including pre-assembled keel/stem/stern backbones plus part-assembled rudders also a lightweight kit for the price of a standard one and extras such as whisker poles and hatches. There are dozens of our boats used in education and we’re proud to support them as well as we can – these kids learning to sail also learn about teamwork, patience, self confidence and much more. Get the kids out on the water, we say, and a new generation of sailors will become better adults.
Not just any old nav lights but beautifully crafted Art Deco masterpieces in sold bronze or chrome plated.
We think they’re wonderful – see them on the new Siennas!
One of the many benefits to be had from designing and building kits and boats is the satisfaction derived from implementing the many improvements to the range. The latest Stornaway kit shipped out (last week to Melbourne) incorporated a number of simple but effective improvements, chief of which was the lifting tiller fitting which was designed for the Sienna. The stainless steel shaft is simply shortened for the Stornaway and the ‘U’ shaped brackets fit both fibreglass and timber/ply composite rudders. The tiller is raised by simply removing a wing nut and fixed back in place by screwing it back on. Among the many benefits of not having a centreboard case on our remarkably spacious cockpits are the ability to comfortably lounge or dine or doze or even engage in horizontal folk dancing, so we wouldn’t want a long laminated tiller cramping our style, would we?