Long Time No See

Firstly, let me apologize for my absence and neglect of this blog. Excuses abound, even a few good ones.

What have we been up to? I can assure you, quite a lot. The completion of interior planking including the installation of bilge stringers, clamps and shelves. The installation of the mast step and subsequent forward structure. The completion of the engine beds. Exterior longitudinals such as the whales, garboard strakes, and the beginning of the broad strake. The build out of the deck framing including hanging and lodging knees. So much more…

You can expect that there will be a handful of retroactive posts to guide you through to the present. For now, we will take a look at a part of the project that occupied the better part of three months of my own time, that is, the build of our spars.

Rigger, Bob Downes, begins bringing the sprit yard from cant to a tapered squared spar with a circular saw

A handful of spar building tools including a jack plane, jointer plan, power plane, drill powered reverse belt sander, circular saw, and spar sanding planes made on the table saw using cove calculations.

I’d like to take this opportunity to refocus on some fundamentals of woodworking and likely on craft more generally. Before this, some basic definitions for the uninitiated.

A spar allows for the spreading and tensioning of a length of sail. Every sail is supported by either a spar or a stay (which may be an integrated stay in the case of a flying sail). In the case of a mast, we typically see the spreading of the luff or forward edge of the sail. On a yard we see the spreading of the head or foot of the sail. On a gaff, the spreading of the head and on a boom, the spreading of the foot of a triangular or quadrilateral sail. Sometimes spars provide an extension of the vessel to conveniently place the lower corner of a sail or to lead running rigging, this is generally the case with bowsprits and boomkins respectively. We also use spars for cargo purposes or other utility purposes in the case of a buyboats mast and boom or in the case of the outriggers on a fishing vessel. In its simplest function we rig a mast for no purpose other than to mount a light or raise a flag. Spars are typically long and thin, and can be made of solid wood, laminated wood, aluminum, carbon fiber; or some other stable, light, and strong material. Sometimes it is ideal for a spar to be quite whispy and flexible and sometimes very stiff and rigid depending on the nature of the vessel, how it is rigged, where its sailing, and in what conditions. Spars can be triangular in their cross section, square, octagonal, round, or oval shaped. Often times spars transition from square to round or otherwise. Typically we see the tapering of a spar as we make our way outboard or up.

The Dove has solid wood spars with a handful of laminated spars. A lamination is performed either for reasons of decreasing weight or to better utilize resources. If your material consists of a solid tree of mid grade quality, you may get away with shaping a solid spar filled with knots, checks, and wind twist that ends up lasting quite a long time and performing sufficiently enough. However, if you have access to long quarter sawn but undersized cants, you have the option of gluing them up square to achieve a spar with perfect vertical grain all the way around, and so long as your glue process is controlled and careful you will have a spar that is more stable, stronger, and most likely longer lasting than a solid spar would ever be. This particular type of simple glue up, as well as a stack lamination glue up, may even prove to be more economical. Common glue up methods and styles that you will hear of include birdsmouth, box, square, and stack laminations.

In all cases, solid or glued, we abide by the general rules of woodworking as I have come to know them and will take the opportunity to lay them down now.

1) Know what you’re doing. Work from plans or specs. This is craft not art- one of the positive descriptions we can give to craft is that the finished product exists in a 1 to 1 correspondence with the plans. We have discussed this in concept in our lofting post. There is no room for improvisation in ends only in means.

2) Select proper material and study your material. In spar material we should be aware of USCG inspection standards- is there a check that has a depth which exceeds 30% of the diameter of the spar? Are there any sap pockets, cracks, excessively large knots, inclusions?

3) Carefully measure and mark your material. Some carpenters say no pens for marking. My teacher said the only marking that matters is a clean and clearly visible accurate (thin) marking. To him, this meant using marking knives, a sharp pencil, or a ball point pen.

3a) stabilize the material and gain control of your environment. Set up lighting and shelter from wind, rain, and sun. Build out stout saw horses or a robust work bench with adequate clamping of the material.

4) Cut close to the line with an appropriate tool. Often we begin our process with the woodmizer band mill, then to a beam saw or circular saw.

5) Cut right to the line with an appropriate tool. In spar construction this means a sharp power plane followed by a joining plane or jack plane.

5a) for spars we define our limits as not to cut into our specified diameters- we do so by marking the faces of a 16 sided spar with crayon along the middle

5b) recognize that the sanding process with take about 1/3 of the total completion time. Be patient and careful, a fair and straight spar in the 16 sided phase can quickly become lumpy wresting you of any premature sense of pride in your craftsmanship.

Shipwright Matt Hommel using the beam saw on the topmast

A jack plane bringing the square glued lower yard to 16 sides

Our process for spar construction is as follows:

1) establish one straight and flat face using the band mill

2) layout and cut the taper into the spar, establishing flat perpendicular sides to work off of using the circular saw

3) bring your tapered spar to perfectly square using planes and measuring squares right down to your line- this is absolutely essential to subsequent ease of process. If you leave a fat line or meat away from the line you will later find yourself chasing your tail with unequal widths of 8 or 16 sided facets causing pain in your head and reduced self confidence.

4) Layout for 8 sides using a spar gauge that is accurate. To test for accuracy mark a length of spar near the taper for 4 feet or so, drag the gauge in the opposite direction (the marking should be the same). Now flip the gauge around 180 degrees and repeat. You should not have multiple lines close together on each side of the spar but one thick line due to marking over 4 times. If you are building spars across a range of diameter you will need to build three or four gauges. A large gauge on a small spar will not be accurate.

5) cut your 8 sided spar using a circular saw set at 45 degrees or using a power plane. After all corners are cut off mark down to your line with a jointer or jack plane.

6) mark the center of your facets with a crayon and draw a spiral around the spar every 4 or 5 feet. Label each facet with odd numbers 1,3,5,7,9,11,13,15 (good luck interpreting this step through a written description alone). Now plane down to 16 sides splitting the spiral evenly during the creation of the 16 facets. You can now fill in the unlabeled dashed spiral line with the even numbered facets- 2,4,6,8,10,12,14,16.

7) mark the center of your 16 facets with crayon and plane by hand down to 32 sides.

8) sand using the reverse belt sander or a long sanding strap by hand until your crayon lines along the facets begin to disappear.

9) switch to a method of sanding that will produce a more fair product such as a sanding long board or a custom concave longboard such as the ones that we built on the table saw. Focus on sanding with the grain to eliminate crossgrain sanding marks. Work up in grit to 180.

10) cut off your ends, use a router to round over wherever desired, and coat with whatever finish is appropriate to the spars intended use and aesthetic.

lumber crayon on 16 facets to control the process and not over plane or over sand. You can see toward to bottom of the image areas where the spirals are drawn and split while bringing the spar to 16 sides.

Our mizzen mast with tenon and a light coating of penetrol and pine tar (later to be slushed)

The 8 spars completed in the fall- Top yard, sprit yard, lower yard, mizzen yard, mizzen mast, main top mast, outlicker/ boomkin, mizzen flag mast.

Till next time

SH

A Hole in the Ice

Our vessel gives a particularly powerful showing this month as she makes visible her termini. A beginning to part the seas and an end to slip past them, leaving that perennial ephemera that we have termed wake which brings to mind Maria Rilke’s fourth sonnet in his Sonnets to Orpheus-

Oh you tender ones step now and then into the breath that takes no heed of you; let it part as it touches your cheek, it will quiver behind you, united again.

The Stem and the Stern Post. Beginning and end. Entrance and exit through space- unless motoring in reverse that is, which, as an act does not lend itself well to poetry- perhaps giving us insight into why poetry is so unpopular for us moderns.

All musings aside, we raised our proud, now 1 year old stem with our telescopic forklift while teetering on a 1 1/2” rebar axis- a technique borrowed from the success stories of the mid 16th century replica vessel San Salvador completed in 2015 with the laboring hands of Dove shipwright Frank Townsend. For such a momentous occasion, the operation was relatively simple and the fit required little additional adjustment.

The stem knee which sits atop the stem marrying it to its keelson and gripes took quite the reversal as the fit was laborious and the final installation nearly negligible to the layman’s eye toward visual progress, a fitting analogy for the bulk of the maritime trades. In viewing shipbuilding related blogs, instagram accounts, and youtube channels, deception reins as the glamorous is exulted and over emphasized no matter how momentary an occasion, while the sometimes monotonous and often tedious work that dominates the boat builders experience is more than frequently ignored by our culture of visual story telling as social media “content” or egoic reinforcement. Richard Henry Dana Jr knew this well and expressed it like this in his Two Years Before the Mast-

“The beautiful is linked with the revolting, the sublime with the commonplace, and the solemn with the ludicrous.”

All of this being said, we often remember and admire the massive, the impressive- the end result, while we allow process to peter and fall from our memory. This kind of optimistic selective processing of time may explain our industriousness or our civilizations success stories, which have just recently begun to be viewed cynically through cracked rose colored glasses.

Among the many success stories of Western civilization we find the story of the Ark and the Dove, one that I believe requires close examination and nuance in addressing as no colonial story should be read simplistically or through an easy narrative of good vs evil especially one considering religious freedom, that is, freedom of vantage. Books will continue to be written on the complexity of European colonization, the simultaneous creation and disruption of America, and the various revolutionary urges of sea faring and settlement- but for now let us mediate upon the Beginning and the Ending. That which parts and that which leaves a wake:

To part, that is, to separate and divide, but also drawing from the Latin partire, to share and distribute that which has been parted. Our stem, the bow of the vessel parting the seas of the Atlantic, the Chesapeake, parting the ways of colonial England and of America. To divide and distribute nature, culture, money, ideas, gods, treasures, plunders, dreams.

To leave a wake, to succeed, to follow, suggesting a coping with a disruption of some kind. Wake from the Old Norse vǫk- to leave a hole in the ice. What a foreboding image, a hole in the ice. Something which suggest stability and predictability, now revealed as fragile and threatening to collapse. To leave a path with such an effect demands coping through techniques of culture, religion, and civilization.

The success and merit of such attempts at coping may be judged by the moral philosophers, but with an interest in materialism, I’ve focused my lens around descriptive language. The parting, the wake.

To step into a kind of cosmic philosophical immunity or safeguard, we think of the sea and the seemingly ephemeral wake left by a teetering wooden speck upon an endless blue blanket recalling the devastating wake of one of my favorite thinkers who mused-

In some remote corner of the universe, poured out and glittering in innumerable solar systems, there once was a star on which clever animals invented knowledge. That was the highest and most mendacious minute of "world history"—yet only a minute

Till next time

SH

Social Distance Ship Building

Shipwrights are back on campus as of last Monday working in three isolated cohorts, with one Delaware team, and two Dove teams respectively. Shall we allow an hour per day of tool and vehicle sanitization, six feet of social distance, or the donning of face masks to dissuade us from our shipbuilding mission? We say nay. With a healthy dose of viral aversion, due diligence in collective and personal cleanliness, and a fresh thirst for productivity, we shall prevail.

Over the past two weeks we have been working on putting together the Dove’s stem assembly, which includes fitting out the beak head joinery in the shop as well as fitting and bolting together the gripes and forward keelson. Additionally we have brought to completion the building of our forward half frames, and have milled up some lovely donated loblolly pine logs.

Dust shakes off from the gears of machinery and from the limbs of shipwrights in our shop this spring as we carefully begin again.

If you take a look back at the post on half frames, you’ll become reacquainted with the process of building as well as the necessity for this method of construction. Essentially, the half frames complete the framing of the ship forward and aft as the vessel gains in shape from the flat and straight keel. Wherever we have significant shape or rise we see half frames. All of the frames proper are square to waterlines and buttock lines and can approximate the station lines in our lofting. The frames forward of the half frames are unusual in that they do not follow this rule. These extreme forward frames lean forward away from perpendicular, that is, they '“cant” forward and are thusly termed cant frames. The reason for this is to reduce the extreme beveling necessary in this part of the vessel where our planking is forced to take the shape of our bluff (round and obtuse) bow. In the coming weeks we will begin building these cant frames.

Using the engine lift to work on the fit of our lower grip.

In the above images you will see a number of large structural joinery pieces that come to constitute what we call the stem assembly. The lower forward piece is termed the lower gripe, which connects the the lead ballast just aft of it, the keel, and the upper gripe, above it. The upper gripe connects to the keelson just aft of it which joins to the top of our full frames. The stem will then land on top of the upper gripe with the stem apron tying it to the keelson. The gripes are built out of southern live oak, with the keel and keelson made out of cortez. For a post on wood selection click here, you will also find at the bottom an image of the built stem assembly during test fitting last August, which comes to its conclusion this spring in the image below.

In the above image you will find the stem painted white with master shipwright Frank Townsend pondering the joining of the stem apron in hand. The protruding pieces in yellow and orange make up the unshaped beakhead or gammoning knee. The gammoning knee is built out of local osage orange which we harvested in partnership with the Maryland Department of Natural Resources last November. The gammoning is where the bowsprit is secured to the ship, on vessels of the 16th to 18th centuries a lashing is used which lashes to bowsprit down to the beekhead, this is called the gammoning lashing, in later vessels up to our time an iron is fitted which is called the gammoning iron. Osage orange is extremely stable and is indeed Maryland’s most rot resistant and dense naturalized wood resource. Below you will find images from November 2019 while scouting out ideal specimens for harvest on Wye Island just across the Miles River from our St Michaels campus. This large assembly will be permanently secured to the vessel in the coming month.

Associate Shipwrights Noah Thomas and Clara Zinky, clearly secondary to the glory of perfect osage growth rings before them.

Every so often we are called to accommodate unexpected duties in the shipyard, such as the care and proper milling of the below loblolly pine logs. Loblolly pine, the dominant tree of the southern coastal pine forests, and indeed the Delmarva peninsula, is commonly used by shipwrights for deadrise boat construction, log construction, carvel planking, and even deck planking. In order to thwart potentially devastating bug damage it is paramount that we at least strip the material of its bark and treat with borates. We however brought most of the material to square cants and even milled up a few quarter sawn and plain sawn boards for the Delaware crew.

An immaculate tree: large, free from knots, perfectly round, perfectly straight, tight growth

Till next time

SH

Stay-at-Home Rigger

The Maryland dove will be outfitted with an entirely synthetic rig of traditional construction. This means that the materials will be of polypropylene, polyester, or dyneema, while the construction or structure of the product will be traditional, that is, right hand laid three strand rope also known as right laid hawser rope.

In the early 17th century the Dove would have been built with a rig of hemp. The running rigging which is manipulated by hand , capstan, or windlass and used in conjunction with blocks in order to gain mechanical advantage for easier manipulation of sails and spars, is frequently worked and worn and would most often be left raw without the addition of any preservative treatment. The standing rigging which is primarily static and transfers force away from the mast to the hull would be treated with pine tar, a common antimicrobial, anti-fungal, sticky preservative which helps prevent against the natural material decaying as a result of fungal rot.

The dark burnt earth color that one associates with pine tar and remains at the forefront of the sensuous experience of traditional rigging has been attempted to be replicated in the treatment, albeit relatively unnecessary treatment, of traditional modern or synthetic rope products. A quick history of our insistence on using pine tar in traditional rigging:

1850- iron wire rope begins to be used in standing rigging, this rope is prone to corrosion, the lay of the wire is filled with strands of hemp marline, this process is called worming. The wire is then wrapped in canvas which is tarred, this process is called parceling. Finally, a tightly wound layer of tarred hemp marline is applied which is called serving. The tar prevents the canvas and hemp from rotting and provides a water barrier to the sensitive wire, in this application the preservative qualities of pine tar are applicable and appropriate. This procedure of serving was adapted to iron wire from its long use with hemp rope and is also later used with galvanized steel wire.

1990s- synthetic nylon twine saturated in net dip and sold as “tarred seintwine” is used in the serving of galvanized wire rope on tall ships especially in North America. The seintwine then receives subsequent coatings of pine tar occasionally mixed with black oil enamel or varnish to aid in the drying of the tar, the insistence on using pine tar seems to be a result of inheritance from a generation familiar with hemp marline, which by this age has become increasingly uncommon.

I might still advocate the usage of pinetar with a drying agent on synthetic marline over wire as it continues to provide a water repellent barrier and a traditional appearance, that being said, applying pine tar to synthetic rope in the manner of hemp rope is ineffective as it will never achieve proper saturation or adhesion. When pine tar is applied to a length of new rigging in the rig shop with synthetic marline or seintwine and that piece is then coiled up and hung, you will find that the slow drying pinetar will travel down along the wire over the course of a week to saturate the lower part of the coil, even dripping out from the service slowly onto the rig loft floor. This would not happen with hemp marline as it is far more absorbent in its basic fibers (the first principal component of rope- fiber/ yarn/ strand/ rope/ *cable) more so then soft spun polyester and certainly more so than polypropylene. For this reason, I have begun to experiment with synthetic rope preservatives and coverings with the aim at replicating not only the appearance of tarred hemp, but also an added UV and abrasion resistant coating to our synthetic material.

The Dove will be using 5 or 6 types of rope. The 5 principle types in order of strength will be:

Hempex (UV resistant spun or soft polypropylene)

Polytex (abrasion and UV resistant polypropylene)

POSH (prestretched spun polyester)

Polyester Classic (prestretched, heat treated polyester)

Mystic 3 Strand (polyester and Dyneema)

A 6th type which is served rope with synthetic marline or “seaman’s twine”.

In order to test the following products I will apply a single coating of each preservative to each type of rope including a length of served rope. Below you will see Polyester Classic as a primary example for it is the most stubborn in its material (less absorbent filament polyester). The products chosen from previous experience, manufacturer recommendation, and the advice of colleagues in the rigging industry are as follows:

From bottom to top:

1) untreated polyester classic rope from Langman Ropes

2) 2 part tar- 1 part varnish- a cap of japan dryer per quart

3) 3 part tar- 1 part gloss enamel oil paint

4) industrial black plastic net paint (acrylic)

5) 4 part industrial black plastic net paint- 1 part water

6) black acrylic paint

7) industrial netcoat (asphalt)

As expected both traditional tar mixtures are inefficient to treat a filament polyester such as what you see above used for standing rigging and pendants. This narrows that selection down to our acrylic net paint, standard acrylic paint, and asphalt net coat. The industrial plastic net dip has great coverage thinned or not and excellent saturation when thinned although it could probably use a second coat right off the bat (see ropes 4 and 5). The art grade black acrylic sits on top of the material similarly to the industrial plastic paint, but doesn’t seem to saturate the fibers. Lastly, the asphalt net coat, applies very consistently, saturates completely to the inner strand unlike any of the other paint options, and also not without importance, goes a long way in its application compared to the acrylic paint products. The asphalt also dries to a very slight tacky finish similar to pine tar, making it my number one initial choice.

Next I will lay lengths of treated material out in the sun for the summer and partially submerge a few lengths in the water to observe algae growth which will provide me with enough data to make a confident selection in choosing the preservative for the rig of the Maryland Dove.

Till next time

SH

Immunology of Craft

Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither.

King Lear. act 5 scene 2.

This is an essay on survival
The dominant culture values an ends oriented method of construction over processes of building which pay heed to means, aesthetics, and history. I’ve written at length in previous blog posts on the necessity of means which may be expressed as a simple truth maxim- “the process will save you from the poverty of your idea”. Our method of building necessitates a relatively closed loop of production, i.e., a resourceful approach to maintenance and an allergic reaction to subcontracting or outsourcing. This basic tendency manifests itself in a robust and often veiled attempt at maintaining our technological means of production. Industrial manufacturing divides production and maintenance of facilities and tooling among an increasingly specialized semi disparate work force which culminates in automated assembly lines, logistics companies, a competitive market, and subsequent market analysis. Our work on the other hand, despite common sentiment, is in no way specialized. In our shipyard we are expected to possess skills in lofting, finishing work, carvel planking, steam bent framing, sawn framing, heavy machinery operation, wood milling, welding, didactic public interfacing and cultural and historical or archival analysis to name but a few. Compare this to the work of my father the late Bruce Hilgartner who spent thirty-five years of his life maintaining and repairing laser functioning on one type of machine which folded and stuffed envelopes with paychecks. The work of my father being that of modernity, the hard fact of producer economy, and that of specialization; while my work being that of a slippery anachronism at worst or a revived sliver of craft ethic at best. How does an ends oriented manufacturing industry of complexity give way to a revival of handicraft holism- and in what ways are we knowingly or not, fighting in a kind of economic culture war?

I often tell people half jokingly that many of us in the shipyard seem to have a kind of vocational confusion, that is, we mistakenly call ourselves shipwrights; while what we actually do, the function we perform culturally and economically doesn’t lend the claim much clout. 20th century philosopher Martin Heidegger thought that we are essentially what we find ourselves doing. The world that we find ourselves in and the culture that we take part in with our host of fellow actor humans is the world that constitutes our vocation and vice versa. Shipwrights work in a competitive environment building and repairing wooden ships for clients using whatever means necessary to achieve client desired functionality. We on the other hand only half perform this role. While it may be true that the majority of us are technically trained as shipwrights and that that is our primary skillset, we do not work on ships or boats alone but on envelopes of historical fact which exist as accessioned museum collection items that must be maintained in order to better gleam the brilliance of their truth as historical monuments. We work for a 501c3 nonprofit, conform to restoration standards dictated by the department of the interior, are partially restricted by traditions of building and periods of historical significance, and we are expected to discipline our trade to a historically intelligible structural and aesthetic articulation. It is for the above reasons that it has become evident to me that we are not purely shipwrights but also stewards of history encompassing objects. Our non-specialization as stewards of focus (ships and boats) owes a debt to the predecessors of our movement, that is the rebellious dreamers of the 60s and 70s woodenboat renaissance and their forebears, the philosopher craftsman of the Arts and Crafts movement. In a previous post I made an attempt to work through the continued existence of traditional wooden boats i.e., their continuation alongside technological forms that seem to have eclipsed them in functionality and economy. How do traditional industries of means immunize themselves against the standardization of technological “progress”.

“Get but the back of that foliage, and you have the tree; but I cannot name the artist who has thoroughly felt it. So, in all drawing and sculpture, it is the power of rounding, softly and perfectly, every inferior mass which preserves the serenity, as it follows the truth, of Nature, and which demands the highest knowledge and skill from the workman.” Rushkin’s sketch of noble nostalgia for the Gothic in his 7 lamps would be fully metabolized as a modern expression by his heir William Morris, as the plain art nouveau aesthetic would speak to the necessity of simplicity in order to compete against a backdrop of industrial production complexity.

A heritage of restraint: we see what we must with William Morris in order to grasp the essence of a form, rather than attempt to show every detail which may do nothing but blind us.

It is on account of a few politically driven 19th century Englishman that we work and dwell in an interdisciplinary field only halfway in the door of the trade of de facto shipbuilding.

Beauty, truth, sacrifice, power, life, obedience, and memory- these are the seven principles or “lamps” of architecture as laid down by English art critic John Rushkin (1819-1900) who would go on to influence the great revival of handicraft through a viciously anti industrial lens, later inspiring the American transcendentalism of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who had proclaimed in his Self Reliance, “ Truth is the summit of being; justice is the application of it to affairs.” The emergence of industrialism was precipitated firstly by a metaphysical claim which then equates to an ethical one, that is, that of instrumentalism which asks, “may we instrumentalize the cultural intellect, our resource base, our technological capability, our capital, for the pursuit of ends.” This mode of homo economicus would lead to critique by such thinkers as Karl Marx (1818-1883) analyzing the usurpation of handicraft by ends oriented machinery in exploitative environments leading to what he termed “deskilling” and John Rushkin lamenting the martyrdom of beauty by that of the utility obsessed drive toward vulgar objects of bare functionality devoid of human care or cultural foresight (or indeed insight). These thinkers divulge sharply in their approach to the treatment of this industrial ill, Marx being toward a reappropriation of producer means to collectively shared ends in political communism through an intermediate nationalized producer economy and a rigid historical trajectory (historical materialism), the other toward a typically Anglo pragmatism of artistic renewal through reviving truth via the stewardship of means unto themselves.

Beauty shines forth as truth (ἀλήθεια), the sacrifice being the ability to resist the temptation at exposing the remaining mysteries of truth in an attempt at achieving further use value or optimization for the sake of market economy. Power being the abysmal aspect of this remainder, the poetically monstrous and everlasting potentiality of truth and beauty and the sway that it may hold over the imagination and over our potentiality. Power is life disciplining, as Plato had investigated seriously through the undemocratic conclusions of his teacher Socrates in the Republic- artistic disciplines are the most threatening to the stability of the state for they comprise the culture’s possibilities of perception through what beauty is professed, that is, what abysmal remainder of art (power) speaks over the external constraints of state endorsed values and in doing so destabilize them. Life is only proven by the observation of change and change occurs through a disciplining substrate, for if it does not the continuity of the object of change will no longer be evident for it will cease to be, this is called death. Death and Memory coincide in philosophies of Ends as utility runs headfirst into oblivion. There is an infamous example of such arrogant shortsightedness in recent modern history in the scientific ambitions of Julius Robert Oppenheimer. Beauty, truth, sacrifice, power, life, obedience, and memory (might we also recall the link between technological being and the greek god Epimetheus, the western origin story of forgetfulness, memory, and technology). These are the values that we have inherited whether we know it or not via the Rushkin derived Arts and Crafts movement of William Morris (1834-1896).

William Morris saw that in the changing economic landscape it would no longer be feasible to make a living as a craftsman unless one were to take on aspects of the craft that were increasingly specialized for oneself while simultaneously marketing this necessity as a niche craft holism, thus the criticized romantic and sentimental element of the tradition. The conservative designer-craftsman absconding from a world where it may be acceptable for an architect to say “I built that”. Morris apprenticed under a Neo-gothic architect, built a medieval inspired home for him and his family, and founded a kind of crafts guild with six craftsman which they referred to as “the Firm”. Their ambitious goal was to live out the teachings of Ruskin in their craft while thwarting their nearsighted architectural contemporaries through the making of furniture, architectural carving, metalwork, stained glass windows, and murals.

Als Ik Kan- flemish for “to the best of my ability”, was the trademark stamped upon the furniture of American Arts and Crafts movement furniture maker Gustav Stickley (1858-1942), a rallying cry for means based craft situated in the spartan American aesthetic value of simplicity- more than a step removed from the Gothic ideal of Rushkin’s ‘Seven Lamps’. Mimicking Heidegger’s famous essay “The Origin of the Work of Art”, Gustav Stickley finds respite in the material truth of craft where one may split the difference between vanishing the material in recourse to function and preserving the material completely in an ultimately misanthropic ethical paralysis. The question answered by Stickley being, “how does one allow the truth of material to speak wile deriving use from said material?” This is the greek conception of revealing truth or aletheia (ἀλήθεια) articulated or arguably denied by the Heideggerian analysis of techne (τέχνη) which is a creating that uses up, exposes, or exploits material quantitatively for an end (instrumentalization); in contrast to poeisis (ποίησις) which is an open truth that arises from the ground while keeping all sides from being seen, a showing from amongst the non-disclosure of boundless poetic truth. Beauty, truth, sacrifice, power.

Vincent van Gogh. Peasant Shoes. 1886

“In the work of art the truth of an entity has set itself to work. ‘To set’ means here: to bring to a stand. Some particular entity, a pair of peasant shoes, comes in the work to stand in the light of its being. The being of the being comes into the steadiness of its shining. The nature of art would then be this: the truth of being setting itself to work.”

Martin Heidegger. The Origin of the Work of Art

This “setting itself to work” is the truth revealing itself through an articulation of a world. The one who performs such direct setting forth is the steward. A pair of peasant shoes depicted by Vincent van Gogh resting within their place, the world rising forth from the earth, a dynamic of tension which would come to be a dominant philosophical movement in Heidegger’s work on truth. The well worn expression of labor and leather birthed upon something of personal utility, giving an idiomatic expression of care to material and showing to us the world that they’ve found themselves upholding and the earth that they’ve worked and turned and plotted and seeded and settled. The setting-itself-to-work of Stickley quarter sawn oak combating the homogenization of material found in architectural functionalism. Stickley’s chair shows us in plain American style the character of the tree, stability being provided by corresponding grain and laid bare for us in an object useful yet not used up. The careful balance, the middle way, the subtle drama of true craft, is expressed perfectly in the words of George Nakashima (1905-1990) in his ‘The Soul of a Tree’, splitting the difference between concealing and exposing in an artful revealing, "There is drama in the opening of a log — to uncover for the first time the beauty in the bole, or trunk, of a tree hidden for centuries, waiting to be given this second life.” It seems that the proper human vocation is to give “this second life”, whether it be a second life in word, in thought, or in material.

Gustav Stickley. Armchair c. 1907. oak & leather

George Nakashima. Conoid Bench c. 1960 A liberal display of ribboning in a large milled slab between the conservative philadelphia windsor back. A playful approach to the restraint and release of material, found less radically in American furniture makers such as James Krenov and Sam Maloof

The below quote by William Morris will segue our conversation from an ideal of beauty in late 19th and early 20th century craft toward that of wooden boat building as we are familiar with it in America today:

“It is for all these buildings, therefore, of all times and styles, that we plead, and call upon those who have to deal with them, to put Protection in the place of Restoration, to stave off decay by daily care, to prop a perilous wall or mend a leaky roof by such means as are obviously meant for support or covering, and show no pretence of other art, and otherwise to resist all tampering with either the fabric or ornament of the building as it stands; if it has become inconvenient for its present use, to raise another building rather than alter or enlarge the old one; in fine to treat our ancient buildings as monuments of a bygone art, created by bygone manners, that modern art cannot meddle with without destroying. [¶] Thus, and thus only, shall we escape the reproach of our learning being turned into a snare to us; thus, and thus only can we protect our ancient buildings, and hand them down instructive and venerable to those that come after us.”

-William Morris et al . The Spab Manifesto.

Today it has become cliche to speak of the “bespoke” or “handmade” or “artisanal”, but this has not always been so, and its recent prevalence as a market buzzword would lend itself to an essay on producer co-option some other time. To market something as “craft” is ultimately a contestatory discernment in word choice, albeit a soft one, as it poses the style of manufacturing of something against that of the dominant style (industrial and semi automated). Ultimately, to produce things by hand and to market the product of your labor is a display of conservative behavior in society and contains a preservationist ethic. By insisting on producing things in a manner mastered during a previous age, to not attempt to revolutionize such methods but to take part in them and perpetuate them, is in its very core style, anti modern. The only way in which such behavior could prove profitable would be to either bolster ones interests with symbiotic cultural institutions and sympathetic benefactors or to shift the cultural values perhaps by education (good marketing). The link between preservationism and craft movements should be made self evident by the above statement by Morris et al, and the acquisition of such an ethic by museums and historical societies or historically sensitive state departments a natural one.

In part two to this post on the Immunology of Craft I will conclude the proof of our inheritance through revealing a connection between three seemingly disparate individuals who have proven to be extremely important for the continued existence of wooden boat building in North America- that of Kurt Hahn, Pete Culler, and Karl Kortum. We will meander through the great intellectual brain drain of Nazi Germany, to a relishing of small things in a seemingly non threatening New England coastal town, to the towering loft of Hyde street with eyes lingering above San Francisco Bay.

Till next time

SH

Hindsight is 50/50

We begin the new year with some new tooling, the installation of our cortez keelson and a slight adjustment in process as we build out and prepare for the landing of our half frames. The half frames are simply the frames in the vessel that are not joined permanently to one another port and starboard. Typically in a vessel like the Dove half frames land on dead wood, the keelson, or some other piece of backbone structure rather than directly on the keel. The reason for this is that the half frames represent shape termination at the bow and stern and are thus highly beveled and curved as they define the entry and exit of water flow along the vessel. On more shapely modern boats with what we call “wine glass” curves, typical of 19th and 20th century yachts as well as many traditional fishing vessels we might find the majority of frames being half frames as we have stern and bow overhang with long lengths of horn timber, raked sternposts, and a cut-away forefoot so that the majority of forward framing land on the stem assembly as half frames. The half frames join together by way of floor timbers which rest either forward or aft of the framing depending on where the frame is in relation to the midships. The heel of bottom of the after half frames is pocketed into out keel, keelson, and deadwood with those furthest aft only into the dead wood as our rabbet swoops upward rapidly.

An example of the construction of one of our full frames. *note the existence of a joining futtock which notches to sit directly on top of the keel

A half frame with wine glass shape back aft notched into the deadwood. *note the floor timber and the lack of joining futtock

The construction of the half frames does not change significantly from the full. Patterns were made with rolling bevels recorded, buttucks, and water lines. After all pertinent information is transferred to our futtocks our rolling bevel is cut and the futtocks are horned, fastened, and set aside for installation. The frames receive temporary cross spauls which sit beneath water line seven (LWL) and water line thirteen. We rig the frame assembly with hoisting straps, crane the frame into position, and carefully guide the heel of the half frames into their socket after removing the lower spaul alowing the frames to pivot on the upper. As always, mating surfaces are painted out in red lead.

Here we can see the half frame notched into keelson, deadwood, and top of keel. The floor timber notches on top of the keelson in a similar fashion to that of the fullframes notching into the keel. The half frames receive a bronze bolt in addition to a series of trunnels attaching them to the floor.timber.

What else:

Who says that it is only after the fact that we are able to see with crystal clarity the meaning behind and cause of our strategic missteps, tactless botched social encounters, hasty operator errors, and other such self inflicted calamities of large and small caliber? Might it be that the craft person by their need to manifest a desired design- an idea- is required to look with 20/20 vision forward into what is not known and press their idealistic seal harmoniously upon the raw unworked stuff of nothing?

Happy Days

Till next time-

SH

Roll on, Vain Days!

O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroyed: Roll on, vain days! full reckless may ye flow, Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoyed, And with the ills of eld mine earlier years alloyed.

Lord Byron. Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 2: 97

CHARACTERS:

Dionysus: Greco-Roman deity. God of the grape harvest, of fertility and ecstasy. Also called Bacchus by the Romans. Often representing the unrestrained chaotic and irrational.

Hephaestus: Club footed Greek god of craftsman, sculpture, and metallurgy. After being exiled from Olympus by his mother Hera the gods would beg his return so that he might save her from the invisible fetters of a magical chair that he had crafted. His trusted friend Dionysus would intoxicate the god and on the back of a mule cart him back to Olympus.

Shipwright: Not so much a singular character, but a plethora of iterations and manifestations of a kind of sea obsessed craftsperson. Often found carrying out sisyphean tasks with enigmatic ends.

As the worlds breezes do prevail further northward and the great light does further reveal the upside down earth southward; as our patrons from this nations capital, from Charm City, and from the unseen clefts of the Eastern Shore turn late beneath their sheets or soften the threads on their sofa, or cool coffee with waining comfort- an eclectic assortment of miscreants and dreamers beckon the call of craft despite the soaring cold news brought down to them by avian messengers of the Canadian north. They praise rather the poetry of Russian Nobel laureate Joseph Brodsky who had said, “beauty at low temperatures- is beauty”. As if possessed through the ancient whispering Hephaestus in union with wine god Dionysus, we do not heed the request to return to worldly delight from our chasm of shipbuilding back to the pedestrian atmosphere, for we need not breath till our work is complete, and our work will never be complete, for this work is an open project, a work projected forth through mysterious time. We laugh loudly across time as our bacchantical madness should someday hold fast to a coming generation of unsuspecting laymen whispering to them the same imperative- to indulge in this eternal feast of shipbuilding with wine grapes falling one by one from the vine into the sea. Our non figurative skeletal crew will smile with glistening and chattering bones like Latin sugar skulls and the Maryland Dove will shine between thin places unknown.

We toil and jest together this month approaching the standing of our last full frame, the laying of the keelson, and the completion of the transom. Below you will find images of the progress that has taken place since the European travels of November.

Frosty Cortez Keelson. Our keelson rests here on the band-mill after being cut down to its finished 10x12 dimension.

12 Frames in early morning Chesapeake light.

As glory becomes quotidian or the quotidian becomes glorious, we repeat the process of double sawn frame construction day in and day out. Two months ago lead shipwright Joe Connor had hoped that we might complete one frame a week, today we are averaging at two and have hit our stride at three. The last post regarding framing showed a Dove with one rib, now we enter the new year with 12 and the 13th ready to raise.

We’ve sped up our process by having one team roughing out live oak stock for futtucks three or four frames ahead of the teams putting the frames together. Meanwhile, one person flattens our roughed out stock using our flattening box which you can see in a previous post titled “A Boat Shaped Shadow”. Two more teams work to horn the frame which is the process of fitting the butts of the futtucks to one another while maintaining proper frame shape with the master pattern. One team finishes the layer of the frame early while the other works to completion of the cover. To recap: the cover and layer are the names given to the two sides of the double sawn frame. As the layer is delivered complete the cover has its rolling bevel cut into it, for a detailed look at how we retrieve the necessary information to cut an accurate rolling bevel read “Frames from the Loft Floor”. Working in this way, frame team one continues with progress on the following frame while team two fits both cover and layer and prepares for treenail fastening. We then stand our frames and dive into the next round of work.

After the full frames are complete we can then lay our keelson which is the longitudinal structural piece that sandwiches the frames along with the keel. This keelson steps into the framing with joining open mortises in a method observed in the construction of the Vasa. The keelson will bed in roofing tar and get bolted through the framing, keel, and lead ballast with 3/4” bronze bolts threaded in house using our threading machine.

In the background working away systematically and with supreme precision you will find master shipwright Frank Townsend working on building the complex 17th century transom of the Maryland Dove using local osage orange from Wye Island.

The transom of the 17th century which found endurance through to the 18th century and can be seen on such ships as the Sultana is comprised of a flat transom which was traditionally cross planked and a stacking raking portion which sits on top giving the aft deck further space aft and a well in which the rudder and tiller may extend through rather than having a transom hung rudder where the transom and sternpost follow one another in line with the tiller projecting forward over the transom. The language here is sure to lose some of you, but find respite in knowing that an entire blog post will be dedicated to the transom as it nears installation.

The roaring 20s can be felt as we round the bend of this decade and if indeed history should repeat itself, we may find ourselves in a time of record breaking inflation and avantgarde artistic improvisation. Whatever the approaching future has in store for us we will proceed unaffected by novelty and with a sparkle in our collective eye gazing outward toward other things, perhaps gazing outward toward a Dove clipping along merrily with an amicable sea.

Till next time

SH

Nothing Endures but Change

Three weeks ago lead shipwright Joe Connor and I traveled from Roskilde Denmark to Stockholm Sweden to work with our consulting maritime archaeologist Fred Hocker. Fred Hocker is the head of research at the Vasa Museum where he has worked for 16 years. Aside from his work at Vasa, he has taught maritime archaeology at Texas A&M and has written and edited countless works on the subject of archaeology and shipbuilding. Fred is an American expat and to the chagrin of Joe, an Anglophile. His expert consultation is an invaluable resource as we begin to work through further details in the Maryland Dove’s rigging, deck furniture, longitudinal structural joinery, and deck planking schedule. His survey, excavation, and research of 16th and 17th century wrecks provides us with tangible artifacts from the time period of which we wish to replicate in our current project at CBMM.

The Vasa museum is essentially a massive carefully climate controlled container which cradles the meticulously preserved and partially reconstructed 1628 time capsule wreck, Vasa, a 64 gun ornately decorated Dutch built Swedish warship of 1200 displacement tons. The Museum interprets the history of the ship as well as the geopolitical and social context which generated such vessels.

Deep in the bowels of this industrial modern building we found archivists and collections staff recording various material fragments of the ship which had yet to be completely cataloged and high aloft on floor seven was the office of Fred Hocker perched in the realm of research. Like the boatyards of the 19th century with loft floors above the boat shop, men in white coats carefully handing patterns down to the boat builders below them. I always get a kick out of the Platonic divisions of these institutions. Of course it is all quite natural, light things are always to be handed down. Like Raphael’s painting The School of Athens, with Plato found center left gesturing toward the heavens, towards the idea and his student Aristotle right with open palm facing down toward the earth.

Plato holds his late Socratic dialogue Timaeus while standing beside his star student Aristotle toting his Nicomachaen Ethics.

Lead shipwright Joe Conner and head of research Fred Hocker, decked out in tweed. Fred is making us a drawing of a structural detail that we are hoping to reproduce.

“What is spoken of the unchanging intelligible must be certain and true; but what is spoken of the created image can only be probable; being is to becoming what truth is to belief.” (Plato. Timaeus)

There is a great conservitivism and simplicity to archaeology, yes there exists painstaking research into the chemical processes effecting artifacts, to their story, origins, construction, meaning, etc, but the truth is to be found in the midst of the artifact. If the artifact does not point toward what you are looking at you best look elsewhere. When archaeologist Anders Franzén in 1961 undertook to excavate and raise the Vasa from 105ft deep to the oxygen rich surface of the earth, to our realm, he moved toward Aristotle. Aristotelian philosophy is in no way the antithesis to Plato. Aristotle borrows more than virtually any other philosopher from his teacher, but his thinking shifts radically toward the dynamic, toward life. Truth can be found within the dynamic. The dynamic, that is, the changing, is exalted. Within Platonic thinking the heavy and burdensome is what is changing and what changes is fleeting and falling from perfection, from what it attempts to approximate which is its unchanging eternal truth. Our embodied existence as a form of basic human extensionality, the core prosthetic nature of human being, shifts the vulnerable and ephemeral burden of memory retention away from the body and offers it up further and further to our craft, our technological being, our revealing and remembering (τέχνη). The artifact as a known unknown for the human is the oblivion of generational amnesia and the gift of remembrance. The Vasa will never stop changing, much work in preservation can be done to inhibit decay and deterioration, but eventually she will be no longer, and yet all truth of her derives from her changing, from her life. The vault has been opened with the raising of the Vasa. The Lazarus story is powerful partly because it is so familiar to us, living and dying through remembering and through forgetting, we thrive in our struggle to move forward into oblivion while reaching backward into the vault. Fred had told us that the museum strives toward the mission of preserving the Vasa for 1000 years. 1000 years of life brought back from the dead. 1000 years of revealing, of exalting the hulk and bulk of material in all of its dynamic foreboding.

The rebellious student and mentor of archaeologists, Aristotle, states in his Ethics already revealing the truth in the practical, in what it is that can be done, in the dynamic:

“In everything continuous and divisible, it is possible to grasp the more, the less, and the equal, and these either in reference to the thing itself, or in relation to us.”

Archaeology has as its study dimension and perspective- time, place, and our species, or in other words human being. Archaios (αρχαίος) meaning, “ancient” derived from arche (Àρχὴ) meaning, the beginning- a fitting object of study for the anthropologist, perhaps even the only real kind of anthropology. As I had mused in a previous post, the human being is a being without end, the study of man is then, the study of our beginnings, the study of dynamics and change as the only given for the human being. The archaeologist hopes to build a bridge between a chasm of time as she strives to recover the memory within a hidden remnant of human being, for we are not simply a species, a skeleton with organs and biological capacities; but include everything that we equip ourselves with, everything we make meaning out of- the human being is also the world divulged from the abyss.

I’d like to spend the remainder of this post looking at the various build details that we will incorporate into our project, some of which come directly from our time with Fred aboard the Vasa others from the excavation and surveying of vessels of the same region and time period as the Dove.

The lower hold on the Vasa. Looking forward. Here we can see massive floor timbers and knees bolted to ceiling planking with a notched longitudinal stringer.

You might notice the irregularity of structural timbers and assume it to be a product of wear and decay considering that the vessel sat on the bottom of Stockholm harbor for over 300 years, however this rather organic character points rather to the Dutch boat builder’s proclivity toward incorporating as much useful material as possible even to the effect of apparent inconsistency. The English on the other hand began to differentiate themselves in their ship building through repetition, predictability, and regularity. Being builder’s familiar with the Chesapeake’s tradition of log construction and rack of eye building we were quite sympathetic to the style of the early 17th century Dutch.

detail of an integrated “sister plank” from a model of the Vasa displaying her structure.

Many 19th century and later wooden boats have a core semi structural plank running the length of the fore-and-aft line called the “king plank”. The drawback of orienting your deck around one central plank becomes obvious when approached by a cabin, deckhouse, capstan, mast, or any other feature of the ship that by necessity falls within the fore-and-aft line. The Vasa and other vessels of the 17th century incorporate two sister planks framing the hatches which relieve into the deck beams and have a step to allow the joining of surrounding planking. This creates two longitudinal stiffening structural members which conceal there function in an uninterrupted and elegant manner. The deck itself tapers slightly to create an appearance somewhere between the modern straight laid and steam bent edge set decks. This 17th century method of decking will be designed into our deck layout after reviewing this rather substantial detail with Fred.

Clamps were straight scarfed in their thickness while planks and whales received a nibbed scarf along their width. The English did not scarf outer planking as often as the Dutch but rather used butts in the manner of 19th and 20th century boat building which we are more familiar with. We will plank in the English manner while maintaining the use of nibbed scarfs for ceiling planking.

Another very intriguing feature that we couldn’t help but notice while touring through the Vasa was the ships bilge pump which looks like a log just chopped from the forest a few months ago, bark and all. The pump is essentially a pipe, with the bark protecting against checking which would render the pump useless. There were only a few species used for bilge pumps as they possessed a superior ability to maintain their watertight integrity after being bored out and put to use.

The Vasa’s righteous bilge pump

The post on blocks titled Chock-a-block foreshadows our trip and delves into the details and archaeological backing of our block design and building style. While a drawing may suffice to design the Dove’s blocks it proved to be very helpful to view more than a few 400 year old blocks and rigging bits from the catacombs of the Vasa. Topsail sheet blocks, lift blocks, euphroes, bowline blocks, ram’s heads, and dead eyes from the Vasa will all be incorporated into our rig build with a few modifications taking difference in regional technique between the Dutch and English into account. Journeyman blacksmith and CBMM shipwright Noah Thomas will be busy forging iron strapping for the heavier lower blocks such as the cat fall blocks as well as a few fully integrated iron hooks into the lower blocks on the running backstays and vangs. During our time period we also find high strain blocks with cast iron and bronze sheaves, an exciting challenge for our casting workshops hosted at the museum annually.

Our sail will be effected by research performed by Fred on an early 17th century sprit-rigged vessel of a similar size. Typically, traditional vessels panel quadrilateral sails following the leech, or aft side of the sail. Fragments of sail suggest that sprit sails were cut with panels following the the luff, or forward side of the sail near the mast, a sailmaking feature which will surely by followed as the proper functioning and setting of our sprit is of particular challenge and interest to us in designing a rig which has fallen out of familiarity to the 21st century sailor. Aside from build detail, functionality has also been observed and taken note of. The staysail of the 18th to 20th centuries is set on a halliard with “hanks” attached to the luff of the sail which ride up and down the forestay. Our vessel will have hanks which are semi-permanently integrated into the forestay like a square sails robands with setting and striking being dependent upon the use of brails. Sails were not yet thought of as riding along stays in the 1620’s but were attached to yards, so during the early experimentation with yardless fore and aft sails it follows that the stay would take the place of the yard with the rest of the gear resembling that of a mizzen lateen.

These are but a few details informed by archaeological research and gleaned by Joe and myself during our visit to the Vasa hosted by head of research Fred Hocker. While our little nerd brains churned and grinded on the overwhelming presentation of technical minutiae before us, we found our hilarious predicament the subject of reflection while in the presence of this miracle of human achievement and grave testament of time flung headlong into uncertainty. Vasa! An artifact, a phantom, a war machine, a work of art.

SH

Vikingeskibsmuseet i Roskilde

This week lead shipwright Joe Connor and I had the privilege of visiting the Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark to study ancient and medieval Scandinavian boat building techniques. Our days on the fjord were spent helping along in some replica vessel construction, conversing with the museum’s staffed shipwrights, and sailing aboard a 1030 A.D. replica vessel- we left immensely inspired. At Roskilde they follow a strict observance of historically accurate material usage and methodology grounded completely in archaeology and historical research. The museum is primarily focused on five Nordic vessels scuttled in 1070 which were fully excavated in 1962. The vessels are known collectively as the Skuldelev ships and replicas of all five vessels have been built and sailed extensively. The building and sailing of these vessels is taken with great care and all findings are recorded as this direct experiential process is seen as being a practice of archaeological research in itself.

The five principle ships were meticulously reconstructed and able to take on their original shape through the preserving of their material with polyethylene glycol and form support using elegantly constructed steel armature. They constitute the museum’s primary exhibit in a beautiful gallery space overlooking the fjord which kept them secret for nearly 1000 years.

The main museum building beautifully showcasing the Skuldelev ships

Day one was spent working with Sorren and Birger two of the museums lead shipwrights. We learned a great deal about their usage of treenails and helped hand carve a few ourselves. The ancient and medieval Nordic people fastened frames and planks using goat willow treenails with the outboard face left with a proud rounded shape like a carriage bolt or peened over rivet. The inboard face to be wedged was bored out with a spoon auger to create a subtle oval shape to better allow the splitting of the treenail by the wedge. Treenail fastening is of great interest to us as the Maryland Dove will be primarily fastened using a variation on this technique.

Dove lead shipwright Joe Connor and lead builder at Roskilde, Birger Andersen discuss Viking ship building techniques. Joe is holding a common spoon auger from the Viking age used to bore holes for trunnel fastening.

Large knees of the coveted choice quality Danish oak used for floor timbers.

All of the vessels built at Roskilde are made using tools that were built with patterns from the historical record. The Nordic people of this time period did not yet have saw mills so every piece of the boat is split out by hand along the grain using edge tools. Scavenging for material with the absolute perfect grain structure is even more essential for them than it is for us for this reason. The vessels are built using primarily Danish oak, Norwegian pine, and Ash. They also make use of a very peculiar birch root for their steering oar pin. Virtually every piece of the boat is covered in pine tar with brightly colored paint applied to the topsides of war vessels. Everything used in the direct construction all the way down to the clamps temporarily securing the split clinker planks or cloverboards themselves are carved out and made using splitting and edge tools. It will be noted that some preliminary work in the reduction of material is performed using the band saw, table saw, and chainsaw.

As for the rig: there have been no hemp ropes or fibers found on any of the viking ship excavations and to my surprise the primary cordage material of choice was lime bast, the sturdy fibrous substance derived from the soaking of linden or “lime” tree bark. The bast fibers are woven into yarns, the yarns into strands, and the strands into common right hand laid three strand rope. Presumably this material would have been used for both running and standing rigging. Our hosts at the museum commented on the materials rot resistance compared to hemp. The Vikings also build standing rigging out of elk and seal hide and running rigging and bolt ropes out of wool and horse hair. Sails were of wool with horseneck fat and tar, or of bark tanned linen. It should also be noted that the Vikings had already in 800AD made use of reefing nettles to shorten sail, a technology that is occasionally believed to have followed the use of bonnets. The development of bonnets developed during the 16th century and really only lasted for about two hundred years as a presumably lesser successful alternative to reefing nettles.

Elk hide rope, common during the Viking age

Linden bast rope, the most commonly found rope of the Viking period in the archaeological record

Linden bast stripped away from the bark after soaking

Day two Joe and I were invited to sail aboard the Skuldelev 1 replica, Ottar. Skuldelev 1 was the first excavated vessel out of the five and represents a common cargo ship of 1030 AD. We were surprised by her sensitivity while at the helm and by her weatherly abilities considering her single large square sail situated nearly dead amidships. We had winds of 10-15 knots and were clipping along very comfortably passing all of the modern glass boats we came upon. Ottar’s very secure motion through the mild but existent sea state was certainly noteworthy. We were each given the helm for a bout two hours, taking her through a few tacks and wearing ship a number of times as well. Sailing a relatively large single square sailed vessel is quite an experience as so many associations of anxiety and security are reversed when compared to a fore-and-after. Waring, or jibing, is the safe sail evolution rather than tacking; and sailing upwind in a blow is the point of sail to remain particularly cautious on rather than sailing deep, as one can accidentally get caught with the sail aback which could lead to a capsizing. In fact, in order to tack, the vessel has to pass through the wind far enough for the sail to back itself to aid in bring the ship about far enough to then “switch tacks”, that is, literally bring the previously to-leeward corner to windward. This is the etymology of “tacking”, to switch the tack or forward running line from being in use on one lower corner to the other, and likewise with the sheet. The final characteristic of sailing this vessel which may feel alien to the modern sailor is in the experience of considerable lee-helm when sailing upwind, a phenomenon that a modern sailor seldom encounters. The steering oar or rudder was sensitive yet had a very limited range of movement, much of the success of sailing a vessel of this type relies on proper sail trim, as well as an efficient weight distribution in the placement of the crew in the vessel.

Sailing close to the wind on Ottar.

The Roskilde Museum provides us with a rigorous example of a museum really guided by archaeology, in fact, it is essentially a kind of Viking archaeology museum. Our experience in Roskilde shed light on ancient building techniques, some of which would endure all the way to our time in the early 17th century. Build detail aside, the museum gave us a new view into a measured experimental archaeology. As mentioned in previous posts, a large sprit rigged boyer type vessel such as the Dove, has not been sailed in modern times. A relatively substantial task within the view of our project will be in adequate sea trials and subsequent adjustments in rig. Recording the Maryland Dove’s level of efficiency, comfort, and ease of use in a variety of conditions and sail configurations will be critical to properly understanding the design of the ship and her place in the 17th century as an effective coasting vessel.

While the principals of building at the CBMM shipyard provide us with our own distinctive style of operation, a holism appears in Roskilde at the Viking Museum, the spirit of which we will strive to carry with us in the build of the Maryland Dove.

The second replica of Suldelev 3, the current project in the boatyard. The first replica has suffered from fastener deterioration. This vessel will be fastened with bronze as the museum conducts research into the specific qualities of the iron used by the vikings.

Chock-a-block

If you had to guess which of the many parts of the Dove would be the first to be milled up, you might think- the keel? stem? stern post? Think smaller. Back in March we felled some Ash from Elf captain Rick Carrion’s farm up in Cecil county. After unloading onto our mill we cut slabs at dimension specified according to the various widths of the aforementioned parts. The pieces would then be cut to their length to dry in our solar kiln for 2 months, eventually making their way to dry storage in cardboard boxes until this week. These are the Dove’s 200 or so blocks, dead eyes, and bulls eyes. For those of you unsure as to what a block is, it is the wooden shell which creates the “pulley” in the ships rigging.

We’ve been focusing this week primarily on the single sheave blocks in 1/2”, 5/8”, and 3/4” as these are the most common with 35 or so of each. In order to make such a high quantity in a timely manner its important to work out a production assembly style process. We begin with wood cut to dimension, we then cut the pin hole with our drill press, the mortise for the sheave with our slot mortiser, the blocks profile with the band saw, the chamfer with our router table, and finally the score for the strop with gauges and rasps. The product will then rest in a vat of pine tar and linseed oil for some months.

A block ready to receive its mortise

1/2 “ blocks with patterns in the foreground. The 1/2” designation refers to the size of rope which the block will accommodate.

Certain aesthetic details are inspired by the archaeological study of blocks from the Vasa, a Swedish ship launched in 1627, lost closely there after, and excavated in 1961. Block typology varied significantly during the 17th century region to region, sometimes with vary rounded nearly circular shapes, other times the blocks were hardly anything more than just that- blocks. We also see specific types such as fiddle blocks found more frequently in places like the Netherlands and less frequently in England. Fiddle blocks create a double block with sheaves in tandem rather than side by side, because they are used less frequently and because two single blocks can be siezed together to create a fiddle, I suspect the English found them less versatile. The Vasa blocks inspired our shape, a more rounded style, as well as our chamfer degree and the hardness of the chamfer’s edge. The sheaves of the Vasa blocks would leave the line proud of the block, that is, vulnerable to chafe. For this reason we have made our sheaves smaller. A smaller diameter sheave can be harder on the line, but considering our modern line material (polyester or polypropylene) we are within a safe sheave to rope diameter ratio.

A double block from the Vasa

After completing the single blocks we will move on to dead eyes, bulls eyes, double blocks, and any other specialty blocks. More posts will appear as we progress in our process.

Till next time

SH

A Boat Shaped Shadow

This week marks a new stage in construction and a significant psychological turn for the crew. Until now, when approached by a museum guest to discuss the construction of the Maryland Dove, we would point to the stem assembly joinery, or to the keel laid out in the yard, or to our stack of futtocks and explain to them how things will come together and take on shape. This week, if a guest were to walk out back to view the construction process, the vessel would be self-evident to them.

One full frame standing on top of the keel makes a world of difference for ones imagination. What determines an objects essence, or gives life to its identity? There are so many ways to answer this question of constitution. To some philosophers it may depend on whether the thing is capable of fulfilling its intended purpose or end- Aristotle’s δύναμις. In this case we’d ask the question, “can the ship sail?” To others its whether the thing maintains a certain form regardless of its ability to fulfill its functional end or maintain its proper force, what in philosophy is called the “formal cause”. Does the object resemble a prototypical vessel or come close to this formal truth? Truth is to be found within a matrix of these conceptions and one such conception that I have found to be prevalent in the boat yard is an object constitution that seems to be deeply imaginative and generous. In viewing the keel with a single frame in place, we see a boat. This is the phenomenology of imagination. Phenomenology is the study of phenomena or of experience. Seeing is deeply phenomenological, we generously make the leap toward the vessel’s end in its incompletion and do so imaginatively. We see all of the vessel’s frames, we see the deck, we see masts, we see the ship sailing and perhaps even our hand on the tiller. But for now, we have a keel with a frame sitting on top. Perhaps this is the ship already at work, ἐνέργειᾰ, pointing toward the phenomenological interdependence between the world and us.

As a sailor I have often pondered the inclination of mankind’s wandering. Our dissatisfaction and incompletion. Why would we voluntarily leave comfort and habit for discomfort and mystery? Martin Heidegger said that we are the “being of becoming”, meaning that we are that which is never finished, we are excessive- thus our technological being and our capacity to extend cultural memory forward toward successive generations via language and artifacts. We do not start fresh at birth and human culture prevails, for it is not confined by genetic memory or generational memory alone. What we are and have right now, is not good enough for us and does not constitute historical man. We are the “being of becoming”. Heidegger proposes that we are that being which poses its own being as a question. He says very clearly, that this questioning is necessary for human being and that it is perennial to historical man. We are not the being which lives life out as a constant end or as an answer. We conclude paradoxically by saying that our essence (οὐσία) is in interpreting what is given and then exceeding it.

This existential analytic can be extended to our phenomenology of “seeing”. We see the ship long prior to its completion or to speak in Aristotelian terms, we see the ship before its formal cause. What does this mean? It suggests that we are incessantly involved in a projection of time. We are imaginative and horizon obsessed: Heidegger’s famous Dasein or “being-there”. If we can only see what is here, right now, he would claim that we are not human and that we would be living a vulgar animal like existence. This future oriented being can explain our predisposition to anxiety. If we could only see what is here, right now, we would not see the island on the horizon. We would step into the sea and turn around. We probably would have no sea going ships. The ship is the easiest object to make an example of, as Its very end is excessive in nature. Its an end in overcoming and in conquering our boundedness- our captivity. The ship is a testament to our unsettled nature- our wandering, and to our need for continuous technological mediation.

Phenomenological inquiry quickly makes apparent just how difficult it is to express the very basic style of man and of our approach to the world or indeed- our making of it (and its making of us). Its a demonstration of the difficulty to express that which is so close to us. It is easier to describe something other, something mechanical, something explicit; but most of our knowledge is taken for granted, for it is embodied and implicit and intimate.

Another of Aristotle’s causes, the “efficeint cause”, is probably the description of constitution which is closest to the craftsperson. The efficient cause of a ship is in shipbuilding, is in the ship being built. Lets take a look at the art of building or manipulating material through phenomenolgy. The shipwright builds using tools, tools are reservoirs of memory, a tool itself is something designed to carry out a desired end and must be interpreted accurately if its use is to be efficient. In this way, tools are like language, they can be used creatively but they also have embedded within them structure and rules. French contemporary philosopher Bernard Stiegler has studied technology through this lens. He retells the story of Prometheus (Greek meaning- foresight) and Epimetheus (hindsight): the twin Titans were given the responsibility of assigning positive traits to every animal, Epimetheus forgot to give man a quality so his brother Prometheus stole the power of the arts and of fire from the gods Athena and Hephaestus (god of craft) to give to man. This provides Stiegler with a genesis account of technology and anthropology. We have no essence of our own, save that of which is outside of ourselves. We project forward and embed our creations, our technologies, with a kind of cultural memory to overcome a fundamental amnesia and we do so through technological process or memory which exceeds not only our personal memory but also our generational memory. This excessive memory Stiegler terms epiphylogenetic memory: epi meaning over, phylo meaning tribe or race, genetic meaning determined by origin. This is to say, that in building a ship using tools, we find useful tools as artifacts of the past and manipulate them in order to realize a design. We use our technological history and heritage looking ahead of ourselves toward the future. Again, technology is a testament to our reckoning with time. We can look at Socrates’ argument from Plato’s Meno that to learn and to know is to remember that which we have forgotten. I find this argument complementary to Stiegler’s theory of technology. Technological existence is a means to recovering knowledge.

We have completed our first frame and its standing on top of the keel, but what we see, is the Maryland Dove. We project our project forward constantly, the nature of our present tense is future oriented but derives its sense making abilities from embedded knowledge within artifacts of the past. Our seeing of the ship, the ship itself, and our building of the ship, is excessive and mysterious. Of course none of the shipwrights would explain their process as ridiculously as I just have. But all of them have at one time been guided by a dream. To be guided by a dream is the most generous seeing of all- the most imaginative, for it seems to be an act of making something out of nothing but the vague imprint of a boat shaped shadow.

SH

Our Ships Rig

Recently we hosted a symposium on the building of the new Maryland Dove, the archaeological and historical research which informs our architectural choice, as well as US Coast Guard standards to be observed in constructing a certified vessel. As you may know, very little exists by way of primary source material and no original fabric from the historic Dove which was lost in 1635 during a return voyage to England. I thought I’d present my research on the vessel’s rigging construction detail and sail plan, much of which finds some voice in painting of the time period, specifically that of the “Dutch Golden Age”. I apologize in advance for this technical post!

Much of our design is informed by historical research and previous architectural work on the Dove by architect William Baker. William Baker drew a small pinnace with a three masted ocean going rig to approximate a likely historical type which was to be constructed by Jim Richardson in 1978.

The Baker/ Richardson Dove with a common but cumbersome three masted ocean going rig complete with: (aft to fwd/ bottom to top) mizzen lateen, main course, main topsail, fore course, fore topsail, and a furled spritsail

Later in William Baker’s life he found reflection on his research concerning the Dove and wrote in his 1983 ‘The Mayflower and other Colonial Vessels’ that, “I see a strong possibility that the artist who molded Lady Anne’s ceiling was trying to portray the Dove as a ‘square bojort’ or whatever the English may have called it. From details of the Ark it is obvious that the artist was not familiar with ships in general.”

The aforementioned Hook House tile from Lady Anne’s ceiling crudely depicting the Dove, and providing at least some inspiration for the idea that the Dove may have been rigged as a square bojort during her ocean crossing in 1633. This is William Bakers line tracing of the tile.

Lucas Waghenaer’s illustration of a square bojort (1584). (Baker, William A. The Mayflower and other Colonial Vessels)

Historical record tells us that the ‘Dove’ was to have been a purchased 40 ton (burthen) commercial vessel. Most likely built within the first quarter of the 17th century. She is assumed to have an English rig in construction detail, but as with all English rigs of the 17th century, she is strongly influenced by the Dutch in rig type. As noted above, William Baker had suggested the Dutch “boyer” or “bojert” type for such a rig as it would have been a prevalent rig type with cross regional equivalents found in Germany, England, and Scandinavia. Maritime historian Ab Hoving notes of the Dutch boyer’s trade with the French, German, and English and testifies to the types influence (Hoving, 17th Century Dutch Merchant Ships. 2014). The boyer rig type was superseded by the galliot and equivalent rig forms in the Netherlands in the late 17th century. Hoving suggests boyers of up to 72’ in length, with lee boards or without, and with either standing gaffs (half sprits), bezan rigs or sprit mainsails. The boyer type carries a small lateen mizzen often depicted stepped far aft sheeting to a boomkin. The rig also carries a square topsail, an inboard fore staysail, and is most often depicted with a square spritsail.

Reinier Nooms. 1650. Een Boeÿer, Een Galioot. The author suggests that the standing gaff rig to have not yet been in common use during the 1630s, otherwise, Nooms’ print provides an accurate depiction of a common Dutch Boyer of the early 17th century.

A key for sail types: R to L, top to bottom: square, lateen, gaff, sprit, gunter, and standing lug

Our vessel most likely underwent a substantial rig overhaul after being purchased to achieve an increased sea worthiness. Rigging which would have been common in coasting vessels, such as unstayed and lashed topmasts, sheeting braces, spritsails and topsails set flying, and generally lesser stayed more scantly built spars (as in the Reinier Nooms’ painting of 1650, Een Boeÿer, Een Galioot) would have been done away with and the standards of more seaworthy rigging practices common in ocean going vessels would be observed. We should speculate that the Atlantic crossing may have been performed without the use of the sprit main, and perhaps as what William Baker calls a “square bojert” (Baker, The Mayflower and other Colonial Vessels. 1983). Baker suggests that the large main sprit was “replaced by a deep narrow square sail which was more suitable for deep-sea voyages” and is depicted in Lucas Waghenaer’s illustrations (see above image). The instability of both the gaff and the sprit have been noted by author of ‘Ship Building and Maintenance’ (1671) Nicolaes Witsen, he comments that at the time of his writing the Boyer was in “rear guard action” to that of the Galliot and Boot. This would suggest a main course and topsail with rigging to better support the spars and transfer load away from the masts to the hull; i.e., more standing rigging, lifts, gear, etc. After the vessel’s arrival to the Chesapeake bay, it seems likely that she would have been reconfigured once again to accommodate her larger sprit main which would allow her to explore the inner reaches of the Chesapeake. What seems entirely probable would be a new reduction of the rig. Unbending the square main, and a simplifying of the topsail (deck set, without lifts, foot ropes, braces, and stowing gear) as in the Baker designed ‘Adventure’, a 17th century replica built in 1969. This style of topsail is also seen depicted in numerous paintings. Vessels of this era and especially of this size, lowered their main yard to deck to be furled. Main yards carried on fore and aft vessels were also frequently lowered while sailing to weather in order to achieve stability by decreasing weight aloft lowering the center of gravity. Learning to sail in this manner may prove to be a learning curve. As with the majority of 17th century replica vessels, stability issues are a problem, thus the history of hull development and the evolution of more and more stable hulls. We should not scoff at the words of Witsen as we compare his disdain for ocean going gaffs and sprits with that of the relatively stable and very lofty rigs of the later clipper ships for example, as the latter vessels had far more stable hull forms. This amounts to an argument for the ability to lower all yards to deck and to practice such lowering frequently. It may not be uncommon for the new Dove to sail with a cocked main yard, a partially or fully lowered main yard and no top yard to be seen. We may also wish to lower the mizzen yard to deck on occasion. This being said, we may opt for a topsail with gear, i.e., buntlines and clewlines, to allow for more handy sailing when not experimenting. Two modes of operation could be conceived of, that of efficient and familiar sailing with passengers and students, and experimental sailing to better understand the likely operation of an early 17th century coasting rig.

Research of early 17th century vessels depicted in charts, models and paintings, have lead us to the conclusion that the gaff rig was not in popular use until the 1650s. Some believe that Charles the 2nd popularized this Dutch import in the second half of the 17th century through the frequent parading of his 1660 Dutch yacht, ‘Mary’. A simple cross generational analysis of the van de Veldes (elder: 1611-1693, younger: 1633-1707) provides an incomplete, yet telling story of the rig’s development. In the early works of the elder showing fore and afters we see a sea of sprit rigs. In viewing the later works of the younger we see a smattering of both standing gaffs and sprits. We may also turn to the art of Hendrick Cornelisz Vroom (1566-1640) or Cornelis Claesz van Wieringen (1575-1633) who were working more closely to the time of the Dove’s crossing (1633-34). If the gaff rig was known to English ocean going captains of 1634, it would have been such a novelty that the generally conservative prudence associated with seafaring would not have readily welcomed such a rig, especially given the context of an uncertain ocean passage. What we are attempting will be a challenge, a vessel which will be able to sail with a standing gaff if desired, but that will primarily carry the more lifely historically accurate sprit. The sprit rig depicted here includes all of the common elements of the larger dutch sprit rig, which rather than brailed were commonly scandalized or left gekaaid-kaaied (John Leather, Spritsails and Lugsails. 1989 pg 59; see also Chatterton, Fore and Aft Craft. 1922 pg 62). With an eye towards safety we will make use of brails rather than scandalizing and striking sail on all occasions. The use of brails has been seen in some sprit rigs of this time period but were certainly not always in use with the spirt rig. Consultation with our archaeologist Fred Hocker has lead us to believe that reef nettles may have been in use as early as 1600 and that the bonnet system of adding or shortening sail was fading out by the early 16th century contrary to what we find on other replica and recreation vessels. This conclusion comes from his study of various suits of sails found nearly perfectly in tact from vessels in the Baltic and North Sea. More information will be published on these findings in the coming years.

Cornelis Claesz van Wieringen (1580- 1635) Ships in a Squall on the Haarlemmer Meer.

Small spirt rigged vessels showing the common method of scandalizing or sailing “gekaaid-kaaied”. Today this is seen when a gaff rig eases the peak halliard to spill wind and is sometime done when slowsailing on the dock. Note a possible gaff rig upper left.

Hendrick Cornelisz Vroom. 1566-1640. Battle between Dutch and Spanish ships on the sea of Haarlem in 1573. Note the square sterned boyer top center as well as the dominance of the sprit rig type in this collection of fore and aft coasting vessels. Bottom left we have a Spanish “galley” a common Mediterranean type carrying a large lateen and dozens of rowing stations. The lateen sail replaced the square sail in the med by the 6th century and would come to be the primary aft most sail on northern European vessels all the way to the 18th century. The lateen is thought to have been the first fore and aft sail. Lateen comes from the french “latine” which simply means “latin”. Vroom may be one of the most helpful painters to study as he fits squarely within the time period of the original Dove. Compare this image with Willem van de Velde the Younger below.

Willem van de Velde the Younger. 1633- 1707. A States Yacht and other Vessels in a Very Light Air.

Here we see a large sprit rigged yacht with an ornately caved transom (center) surrounded by a few scandalized spirt riggers as well as some sailing gaffers with square topsails (left) and a brailed gaff rig in the distance (right). The mid to late 17th century was an exciting time of innovation- the center board in England, the gaff rig, brailing sails, as well as the prevelence of frame first construction.

The use of the single staysail bent onto the forestay can be seen in much of the 17th centuries fore and aft coasting and inshore craft as well as some of the larger square rigged three masted ocean going vessels (although quite rare). Historian and model maker R.C. Anderson suggests the common use of a true jib, that is, a jib set flying on its halliard did not come into play until 1660 (although primarily interested in larger square rigged vessels) (Anderson, The Rigging of Ships. 1994). The likely date based on an analysis of artwork during the time period suggests a slightly earlier date (as the aforementioned 1650 boyer by Nooms clearly shows) The use of a square spritsail was far more common and can be seen in most depictions of boyers and other ketch equivalents of the 17th century. The bowsprit of the 16th and early 17th centuries functioned primarily as a place to lead bowlines and the topmast stay to, which provides its teleology. As jibs come into use so do bobstays and later, bowsprit shrouds, martingales, backropes and all of the other 18th century accoutrement. Bobstays were surely not in use during the early 17th century (ibid. pg 90) but can be seen on later vessels of similar size and rig such as hookers. Carrying a jib is very easy however from a rigging and sail operation perspective and the construction of rigging to accommodate the sail is in no way time intensive. While historical research on the matter is difficult, various other replica vessels of similar time period and rig (cf, Onrust 1614) have been built to carry a jib.

Our architect Iver Franzen’s artistic rendering of his sail plan for the new Maryland Dove. From aft to forward, bottom to top: A bonneted lateen mizzen, brailing sprit rigged main with reefing nettles, square topsail, inboard staysail with reef nettles, two outboard flying jibs, and one square spritsail.

The new Maryland Dove should prove to be a very capable sailor with her scalable rig and variety of sail combinations. In heavy weather perhaps she will sail with a reefed main and staysail. In typical conditions, mizzen, main, topsail, staysail, and square spritsail. In light wind the full set. From a lay persons perspective, the rig will be the most significant change from the 1978 Dove to the 2021 Dove. Its a very exciting responsibility to build such a rig and to take part in the collaborative and interdisciplinary nature of the design- there will be nothing like her. More posts to come on build details, spar making, block making, and material usage.

Till next time

SH

Frames from the Loft Floor

Frame (v.)

Old English framian "to profit, be helpful, avail, benefit," from fram (adj., adv.) "active, vigorous, bold," originally "going forward," from fram (prep.) "forward; from" (see from). Influenced by related Old English fremman "help forward, promote; do, perform, make, accomplish," and Old Norse fremja "to further, execute." Compare German frommen "avail, profit, benefit, be of use."

Sense focused in Middle English from "make ready" (mid-13c.) to "prepare timber for building" (late 14c.).

This week marks the beginning of a lengthy and substantial process in the construction of the Maryland Dove: The beginning of framing the ship. Even a lay person in ship construction should be familiar with the series of core structural members to which we fasten planks to, called frames. The frames of the vessel attach to the longitudinal foundational backbone piece- the keel and are constructed of a series of smaller components called futtocks. In smaller ship construction we have frames that may be steam bent into a shell or over a mold sometimes called ribs, most commonly in smaller lapstrake or clinkerbuilt construction. On some vessels frames are cut out of grown timbers and are known as sawn frames. In larger vessels these large sawn frames are coupled in their sided dimension with another sawn frame and are thusly referred to as double sawn frames, precisely the method of frame building we will be using with the Maryland Dove.

It seems that historically, the term rib was used interchangeably with futtock. In ‘A Treatise on Shipbuilding’, c. 1620, a definition is given: “The futtocks or ribs of the ship are certain round pieces of compass timber swept out according to the mould of every bend”. During the early 17th century it seems that the practice of single sawn frames to have been more common, however large grown timber scarcity, as well as familiarity of construction in the double sawn style; has lead us to selecting this type of construction for our project.

The shape of the frame is patterned out from the loft floor using the body plan station lines which represent either the aft or forward face of the outside of the framing depending on if you are looking at the aft or forward projection of the ship in this particular view. Check out the previous post on lofting to get caught up on some of the terminology here. We use Scottish nails, trimmed finish nails, or registration sticks to transfer information from the lofting to the pattern stock. Scottish nails are simply nails to be used laid on edge with the heads trimmed into a triangular shape. The nails rest along the line to be picked up and the ply wood pattern stock is pressed into them to record the information. The taper from the keel upwards to the top of the frame is given by the architect and narrows substantially from 10” to near 4”; this information is battened off onto the pattern and the shape of our frame comes into view. After the pattern is made we have to record the rolling bevel along the frame. It should be understood that a ships frame has a bevel on the outside face to accommodate the planking as it bends across the shape of the vessel. This bevel is different closer to the keel or garboard strake than it is near the load waterline or sheer. Because this bevel changes inch by inch as you make your way along a frame we refer to it as a rolling bevel. The bevel degrees can be found in a few ways, two of which we have been using depending on the placement of the frame in the ship.

A square, bevel gauge, and bevel finder:

Our frames are 22” apart. If a square is projected upward normal to the station line in the body plan view and a straight edge is placed at the 22” vertical mark resting at the next station line. The angle created between the straightedge and the loft floor is the bevel to be recorded on the frame pattern. The image above is a simplification, when using this method repetitively a simple device is made which holds the square in an upright position to ensure accuracy and ease of use.

Another method is called “Magic Stick” and was the preferred method used by my mentor Bob Darr as well as his lofting mentor Jim Linderman:

A radius is drawn which represents the spacing between two frames (one can also be used, but two should give a more accurate bevel), in our case this radius is 44” as the frame spacing is 22”. An arc is drawn using our known radius and is boxed off to provide us with 1/4 the circumference of our circle. The circumference is found (π x d, 3.14 x 88) and equals 276.32”. This circumference is then divided by 360 which equals .767” or 25/32”. This gives us our incremental spacing to draw our degrees along the arc of 1/4 of our circle. When finished marking the degrees make sure that you have exactly 90. It might be helpful to begin by measuring out from each end, meeting in the middle. Then using a long straight edge you project the even degrees along the arc outward from the center of the circle to the y axis which is nearest the wooden “magic stick” in the image above. These degrees are transferred along the y axis and then onto your magic stick. In our case we only measured out every 2 degrees.

The magic stick is then brought to the frame in question on the loft floor where the 0 point rests and is laid normal to the line outward to the frame two spacings away. Whichever number is closest to that frame is the bevel in degrees recorded in that particular area on your pattern. There’s some obviously some front end work here, but it turns our to be a substantial labor saving device.

Whichever method is used, the found degree is then observed on a bevel board cut to the width of our futtocks, in our case 3 1/2”. The space between the top and bottom of the bevel is recorded on the side of the bevel board and represents how much material will be lost when cutting out our beveled profile on the ship saw. If an inch of material is to be lost on an underbevel than on the other side of the futtock you must add an inch to recover the loss so that each side of the frame remains the same dimension.

Our southern live oak futtocks are flattened on a router flattening jig and the bevels are cut using the ship saw with one person feeding and the other adjusting the bevel of the saw to the recorded degrees. The frames are treenail fastened on a large floor called the horning floor. Horning is the process by which frames are aligned to assure that they are level. We will have more on frame construction in the coming weeks. Below you will find an example of the kind of material that we cut our futtocks from as well as the flattening jig that we have rigged to our bandmill.

Till next time!

SH

Rabbet

The line being cut to the left, nearest the bottom of the keel, is the rabbet line. The middle depth- the apex. The right most and upper line- the bearding line. note the wider spacing between the apex and bearding lines to accommodate the planking as it makes a steeper entry into the keel near the stern.

This week we’ve been cutting out the rabbet or rebate as it is sometimes spelled on our keel and stem assembly. A rabbet is a 90 degree inlaid notch cut into the face or along the edge of a piece of wood. The keel and stem have a long rabbet cut into them to accommodate the vessel’s planking. We find the rabbets design from expanding sections of the hull in the lofting. Three points are found which are then battened off to create curved lines which will be connected and chiseled out. The first set of points represents the inside corner or the plank in the rabbet, this is called the “apex” or “inner rabbet”. The second is the “bearding line” which on the keel is the upper line above the apex which is where the face of the garboard or lowermost plank exits its place of contact with the keel. The third and last set of points is the rabbet proper, or the “outer rabbet” as it is sometimes called, which touches the opposing corner of the edge of the plank to that of the apex. These three points are connected to create a 90 degree angle in all cases, however this angle shifts in its orientation to the material depending on whether the planking makes a steeper or more acute approach to the keel such as in the stern or a wider angle such as in the stem. At the bow the planks approach the stem at a very wide angle, we call this characteristic in ship design a “bluff bow”. This means that the distance between the bearding line and apex line gets much wider as we move aft and smaller as we move forward. The depth of the rabbet in relation to the face of the material changes as well. The planking which will land in our rabbet is 2 1/4” ,however because of its changing approach to the keel and stem it is much deeper in the stern and shallower at the bow. Because of the complexity of this shape we have little use of power tools aside for setting the depth and establishing the apex using a skilsaw. We then connect the lines making small 3 inch wide rabbet notches at a couple frame spacings of width apart with chisels. After the notches are made we connect them by quickly wasting material away between the established notches. We then work material down to an acceptable surface with an accurate 90 degree angle to power plane with the power rabbet planer. It might also be noted that in some building styles particularly that of wooden work boat construction in the Chesapeake Bay, the rabbet is eliminated by building using and inner stem and keelson which takes a rolling bevel. The inside corner where inner and outer stem meet would create the apex and the outside after edge of the outer stem the rabbet line. The bearding line would be found on the inner stem. We find this method of building at CBMM on nearly all of our deadrise style workboats including our skipjack and buy boat. In some building traditions the inner stem is called the stemliner vs the outer stem simply being the stem proper.

The rabbet in the stem, note the wider spacing between apex and rabbet lines in this portion of the rabbet.

Madness to our Method or Method to our Madness

“Looks like you’re doin’ that the hard way!”, a teasing observer comments while watching one of our shipwrights dub (carve or cut) material away from the stem using a traditional edge tool called an adze.

“Looks like you’re doin’ it the easy way!”, a visitor quips while watching a shipwright cut the profile of the sternknee out with a chainsaw.

All of our shipwrights are accustomed to responding to such sensible comments regarding our mixed usage of traditional and contemporary tools and techniques. Our methodology is one born of some philosophy, but primarily of necessity. While we do strive to maintain and preserve the competent use of hand tools; the preservationist inclination is not the primary reason for their usage at our museum, but rather the practicality of traditional hand tools, especially edge tools.

Take as an example the making of a gripe, a backbone piece joining the keel, stem, and keelson. When we approach a piece of raw material, we may begin by establishing a relatively flat surface using the bandmill, proceeding by then establishing an opposing parallel surface or perpendicular surface depending on the size of material and tools being used. The bandmill is a very efficient and effective tool. Care must be paid to its use as it can begin to dive into the material further than the set depth of the cut, especially with a dull blade, a significant imperfection in the wood like a knot, or improper lubrication. Without the use of a bandmill you can set up an Alaskan chain saw mill ( a chainsaw on a track cutting horizontally) or even a track to run a large skilsaw along. If a mill is not available, hand tools such as broad axes and adzes can be used to carefully hew a flat surface.

the usage of a large skilsaw while cutting the scarf for the keel

The usage of hand tools in this preliminary phase of construction takes considerable time. The advantage may be that error is slow as a skilled worker maintains constant control of the tool and slowly approaches flat. Another advantage lies within the accessibility of the tool, its maintenance, reliability, and simplicity. Power tools can be very accurate and very efficient, however, when mistakes are made they are made quickly and with typically greater consequences that are more difficult to reverse. When power tools are available and time is taken to perfect their use and maintenance the craftsperson gains a new agency and level of expertise in his or her relationship to the tool which can ensure the accuracy of their use.

Because we take maintenance into account and have trained and careful operators of our mill, it is the obvious tool of choice for the above application. The next step in cutting out our gripe is to cut the joinery which is relatively complex in a gripe as it is essentially a joinery piece. After a pattern from the loft floor (see previous post here) is placed on our milled material and its shape is traced, we then proceed by cutting its shape using a large skilsaw allowing a 1/16th or 1/8th of an inch of space away from our line. after a skilsaw cut is established on each face we complete the cut using our “Bigfoot” chainsaw jig. The bigfoot platform allows you to use a chainsaw for ripping while making a nearly perfect perpendicular cut. At this point we begin to get a lot of attention. Comments such as, “they would have used them back in the day if they had them!”, or the classic accusation, “that’s cheating!”. And now please allow for a minor digression.

Shipwright Cole Myerhoff and Lead Joe Connor using the bigfoot chainsaw to cut out the lower gripe.

We are not living history performers, but workers trained in a living discipline. The building of traditional wooden vessels has prevailed through technological innovation for reasons better suited for another post and the industry that supports the building and maintenance of those vessels has as well (shops, schools, tool manufacturers, captains, etc). We use the tools that make sense to us and do not work from a position of sentimentality or of a conscious demonstration of period living history style education regardless of the fact that we are building a 17th century reproduction vessel. It should be noted that we also do not maintain a defense of modern tool usage via an anachronistic retrospect or speculation as to what shipwrights in the past would have utilized from the present. This kind of rationale has a number of theoretical holes, the foremost being that, if we assume that a shipwright from the past would be delighted by the use of a pneumatic sawzall (yes, we do have one); then would it not be sound argumentation to draw the conclusion that they may also be delighted at the possibility of building their vessels out of steel, aluminum, or fiberglass? Many boat builders began to build using fiberglass or wood composite methods in the mid 20th century, others maintained the tradition of plank on frame boat building.

There’s an idea in linguistics that I like to apply to craft. If a linguist finds that a language has changed to the point that a significant population of its speakers can no longer understand that language, then indeed it has developed into a new language. On the other hand, if a language stops evolving, i.e., incorporating new words into its lexicon or shifting its grammatical structure ever so slowly as its speakers naturally dictate via its spoken use; or if the language is exclusively preserved for use in ritual, ceremonial, or educational function, e.g., liturgical practice or textual analysis- then it is a dead language.

Craft can be viewed through this analytic easily. First, lets look at the case of a new language diverging from a sister or mother language. Perhaps a few builders in the mid 19th century learn metal fabrication and incorporate iron workers into their shop and iron frames into their vessel, later the entire vessel is of steel and iron and the shops that produce them are nearly unintelligible to the workers who navigated the shops that built their ancestral types from wood. In this case through material usage (lexicon) and methodology (syntax) we have a new craft which the former craftsman are not competent in, although they may understand it better than someone in an entirely different discipline. In the case of a dead language, you might have something like a purely 17th century European building style which is constrained by historical norms that can then be studied through archaeology and historical record. The success of the project is only then judged by the historical accuracy of the methods and techniques of building. This would be akin to a student learning Homeric Greek in order to study the Iliad. It’s only alive insofar as our interpretation of history (of material, of texts, of historic sites) is alive. This style of building is essentially a practice of experimental archaeology, as it may help us derive conclusions as to how builders in the past may have had to work or of how the vessels that they built had to sail. Builders have also worked this way in order to better understand their living traditions via their historical roots, again, think of a student of Italian with an interest in learning Latin.

So we maintain that we are working within a living tradition, our influence from the past is considerably more self evident because the tradition is inherently conservative and the vessels we build are often inspired by 19th century or earlier types. Wooden boat building was refreshed in the 1970s during what some call “the wooden boat renaissance” which saw the birth of boat building schools and new cultural output such as Woodenboat magazine. This renaissance had a kind of Arts and Crafts movement ideal toward self reliance, simplicity, sustainability and perhaps a bit (or more than a bit) of romanticism. Here in 2019 we are still riding the wave of this movement. All of this considered, we also come from an Eastern Shore boat building tradition which is seeped in pragmatism, adaptation, improvisation and resourcefulness. I would say that both of these influences run through our shop strongly.

Getting back to our gripe! Its time to powerplane those chainsaw cut surfaces. Powerplanes are awesome tools. In my boatbuilding apprenticeship we never used them. My teacher thought they were too loud and annoying (see above on romanticism). We use power rabbet planes to get into corners, power compass planes to cut concave surfaces, and very large flat soled power planes for joining surfaces (bringing together two or more relatively flat surfaces). These planes will bring us down close to our line. At this point we may attempt a fit with the two or more joining surfaces. When you have a simple joining surface landing into another, you might go ahead, trusting your lofting and pattern making and cut right to your line before fitting; but when you need to wiggle a piece of wood in between three others you might want to check to see if everything is going according to plan. A 1/6th” of slope on one face could have big consequences for the overall fit. After a few marks are laid down signifying adjustments to be made, we might proceed with power planes further or switch to hand edge tools like planes and slicks. These tools make a smoother surface and can be used with great control and precision. You can also hack a good bit of material away with hand tools, do not be mislead into thinking that they are merely for the finish. When wasting a lot of material quickly in a complex form we often use axes and adzes then going to power planes and then back to regular planes. At this point our process is complete after a few more fits and adjustments. Our piece is painted out to ensure even drying and we move on.

Lead shipwright Joe Connor and shipwright Michael Allen establishing the final fitting surfaces of two joining pieces

In conclusion, we use new tools and we use old tools. We have a host of methods and techniques of building which may be slightly more slow to change than our tools. Like a language who’s structure doesn’t change much but that adopts and borrows new words and phrases often. Much more can be said here, but I’ll spare you. For the ultimate meditation on contemporary technique and traditional form check out Shipwright Cole Myerhoff’s blog posts on the building of log canoe Caroline. We also see many plank on frame vessels which have strip plank (edge glued) repairs, fiberglassed decks, laminate (glued) frames, etc. Some shipwrights are much more apprehensive or discerning in their use of such methods while others will quickly use whatever works in the moment. This irregularity or idiomatic reality of our trade is another testament to its life.

Till next time.

SH

Wood is Good

An Eastern Shore stand of loblolly pine

Our forests and traditional resource base

Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum (CBMM) is located on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, in the midshore region. Our forests are dominated by mixed pine-oak forest in a large topographic or “physiographic” region called the Atlantic coastal plain. Maryland lies in the north of this region, meaning that our native species are often at the northern limit of their range. Within this region we have Atlantic white cedar and bald cypress swamps, expanses of pine forest dominated by loblolly, salt marsh regions with smaller scrubpines and wax myrtles, and brackish tidal flats.

The pine oak forest includes short leaf and long leaf yellow pine, the latter of the two with a population 3% that of its former range. The very resinous long leaf yellow pine was the creme de la creme of coniferous boat building woods during the earlier centuries and was tremendously over harvested. Long leaf yellow pine is considerably more rot resistant than the other pines in this region and boards from virgin forest were known to be 3.5’ wide. These forests are now primarily loblolly pine, a wood commonly used in boat building on the eastern shore for anything from mast building to log bottom construction use. These forests are also home to red maple, sassafras, sugar maple, white and green ash, white oak, post oak, and southern red oak. White oak (Quercus alba) is a commonly cultivated wood which can be used for nearly anything aside from spars and masts and was used historically in shipbuilding, house construction and furniture making. White oak is relatively rot resistant and water resistant because of its cell structure. Red oak has been used in work boat construction but does not possess the same qualities of workability or rot resistance as white oak. Atlantic white cedar is another prime wood for boat builders as its tight buttery grain is a joy to work. It is considerably harder than red cedar although softer than the coveted west coast port orford ceder. Cedars are generally more rot resistant than pines. Atlantic white cedar is a wonderful wood to use for planking. Bald cypress, a species often associated with more southern states, covers the largest swath of land on the eastern shore in the most contiguous forest of Delmarva known as the Great Cypress Swamp. Bald cypress has been frequently used for planking, decking, and mast building. Cypress is very water and rot resistant. The last native species of note used in boat construction is white and green ash, both used for wooden fair-leads, blocks, and other rigging components. Ash is strong, dense, and straight grained.

Commonly cultivated on the Eastern Shore, but non native trees of note include black locust and osage orange. Both species are very dense, workable, pest and rot resistant. Osage has been used particularly for grown knees and futtucks. Black locust for smaller vessel backbone joinery pieces as well as for treenails in traditional construction.

Delmarva’s Great Cypress Swamp

What we’re using, how we’re using it, where it comes from, and why:

White oak: As mentioned above, white oak is a solid and very traditional choice wood for ship construction. Nearby we still have very large trees which are sustainably harvested. Our white oak comes from West Virginia and Ohio. We will use white oak for topsides planking, upper futtucks, clamp and shelf, mast partners, lodging knees, and for the breast hook. It should also be noted that the historical Dove would most likely have been built almost entirely from English oak, a material very similar to our local white oak, making this choice historically accurate as well.

Southern live oak: We are very proud to include this species as a dominant feature in the construction of the new Dove as it is truly as good as it gets from a ship builders perspective. Dense but not brittle, rot resistant, pest resistant, with extraordinary grown timber being available to us from Steve Cross in southern Georgia. If you are unfamiliar with Steve, you may be more familiar with a few of the large scale ship building projects he has supplied including San Salvador, Ernestina Morrisy, Mah Jong, Tally Ho, and HMS Surprise. Southern live oak was the ship building wood of choice for the US Navy during its centuries of wooden sailing ship construction. Constitution’s nick name, “Old Iron Sides” is a testament to its durability. We will use our Quercus virginiana for the stempost, gripes, apron, aft deadwood, lower futtucks, floors, main whale, and deck furniture.

Shipwright Jeff Reid works on fitting our southern live oak apron and stempost using a power compass plane

White Ash: our white ash will be used for block construction, dead eyes, and other rigging components. Its use and workability is noted above. Ash was a very commonly used wood in English vessel construction during the 17th century all the way through to the 20th century as noted by prominent English maritime historian Edgar J. March. We owe our thanks to Capt. Rick Carrion for allowing us to harvest from his property in Cecil County just a drive up the road from our campus.

Black Locust: Why would you use anything else for treenails if you have locust available? its incredibly rot resistant and far more pest resistant than honey locust, and is locally available. Another shout out to Capt. Rick, as this was another species harvested from his large rural property north of us.

Milled white ash billets for solid construction blocks drying in our solar kiln

Atlantic White Cedar: another phenomenal local material, its light weight and rot resistance lends itself well to its use as bulwark material. Bulwarks are particularly prone to rot because of their vulnerability to standing fresh water.

Angelique: We are building to last and must ensure that our vessel does not fall victim to worm damage, a primary concern in the bay’s rivers such as that of where the new Maryland Dove will live at Historic St. May’s City. While we admire the existing Maryland Dove built by the great shipwright Jim Richardson, we’d like the new Dove to last longer. Jim built using nearly exclusively locally available wood and material, something which inspires our construction as well; however, hardwood timber in our scantling size with long uninterupted straight grain is exceedingly difficult to source locally. We have chosen to use Angelique from Suriname in south america for our below water planking and bilge stringers. Angelique is very resistant to worm damage and has become a boat builders go to wood for planking stock in projects such as our own. All of our Angelique is sustainably harvested and meets the highest demand of environmental stewardship in the exotic hardwood lumber industry.

Cortez: Cortez is a type of Ipe or Ironwood harvested in Suriname. It is heavier than water at around 70lbs per cubic foot. Its extraordinarily straight uninterrupted grain and superior qualities of durability lend its use to keel construction in ship building. Our Cortez will be used for the Keel, false keel, wormshoe, inner and outer sternposts, keelson, deadwood.

Our stockpile of cortez

Part of the joy of woodworking is in recognizing that wood is not a homogenous material and that it not only varies species to species but piece by piece. Learning how to “see” wood is really a skill unto itself within the trade of boatbuilding. Come down and take a look at our stock of material for this project and ask us how we’re using it and why. As always, if you have access to material that you feel may be usable in the build and would like to donate, please get in contact with us!

Till next time.

SH

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On Lofting Maryland Dove

 Lofting is a process of drawing a complex vessel to scale typically from a set of plans in order to fair curved shapes, record bevels and rabbet lines, and conveniently build patterns or templates for construction. Fairing is the process of ensuring that all lines drawn and thus built are free of bumps, awkward flat spots, and hard to build curves. Fairing is accomplished by bending long wooden, plastic , or fiber glass “battens” around points relative to known grid lines and then comparing those bent lines to their corresponding lines drawn in two separate views.

There are many techniques and methods in recording information from a lofting and in drawing specific lines, however the foundational concepts as far as drawn views are concerned are more or less universal. There are three views often drawn overlapping one another and a fourth sub-view. The first is the “body plan”- a view of the vessel looking dead ahead or dead astern through the vessel. The second, the “profile”, is a view broadside, that is, viewing the vessel directly from the side. The third view is the “half-breadth”, or a birds-eye view of the vessel where the vessel is bisected directly down the middle through the fore and aft line. A last partial view is occasionally added somewhere above the lofting, which shows projected “diagonals”, more on that later.

Each view includes three types of drawn lines (and sometimes a fourth) which will come to represent the shape of the vessel. In each view two of the lines are straight and often double as grid lines, and one of the three types of lines are curved. The first type are called “station lines”, in the half breadth and profile view they are straight slices- like a bread loaf, and in the body plan they are curved lines which may approximate or directly represent the vessel’s framing. The second, the “waterlines”, are straight lines in the profile and body plan and are slices through the vessel like you would fillet a fish or cut a bagel. They follow theoretical waterlines as the vessel sits higher or lower in the water and are curved in the half-breadth view. The third are called “buttuck lines” and are typically the most difficult for a newby to conceptualize, they are slices through the vessel like you would cut focaccia- they are straight lines in the body plan and half-breadth and curved in the profile. Lastly, we draw diagonals through the body plan, which most closely follow the planking schedule and help us determine how difficult our vessel may be to build. When projected they might look similar to the water lines in the half breadth view, but are actually much more helpful in fairing the shape of the vessel as they more closely approximate what will actually be built.

Lofting begins with a smooth flat surface and carefully drawn grid lines to a convenient spacing. Points are traditionally drawn from a “table of offsets” provided by an architect which are relative measurements of points to loft given in feet, inches, and eighths. A baseline is selected to draw the half-breadth from and it is decided if you would like to loft to the inside of the planking (outside of the framing), or to the outside of the planking which will allow you to draw a vessel more accurate to what the finished vessel will look like. The first is more convenient and useful for building, the latter for designing.

Typically the profile perimeter, half breadth perimeter, and a midship station in the body plan are drawn. Afterwards, a few more bodyplan stations, a load water line in the half breadth, and a quarter-beam buttuck in the profile. As more waterlines, stations, and buttucks are drawn, intersecting points are compared against one another in the corresponding views and small errors down to a sixteenth of an inch are corrected. You begin with a lot of freedom and slowly lock yourself into your lofting. Mistakes and errors are easy to fix early on and can take a lot of time to work out further down the line.

Joinery details in the backbone build, rabbet lines, and frame bevels can then be recorded and used for the build. Shipwright, Spencer Sherwood worked on the lofting nearly single handedly for a month and a half. Master shipwrights Ed Farley and Frank Townsend helped with corrections for the last month, with the supervision of lead shipwright Joe Connor.

A brief history: Lofting was developed naturally during the 19th century as shipbuilding was industrialized and there was interest and economic demand to build vessels with a high level of precision in a production line fashion. Instead of vessels being built “by rack of eye”, using tacit knowledge and understanding perhaps aided by geometric or proportional rule- vessels were now being built piece by piece with the exact dimension of pieces known, you could theoretically cut to the line and install. Before lofting and still to this day in many boat building traditions, pieces were built to approximation and material was deducted by dubbing as further information was gained during the course of the build. It should be noted that the historic Dove, and all 17th century vessels for that matter, were not built using lofting; the methods of building were based in geometric rule, proportion, and passed on inherited and tacit knowledge. Certain aspects of the build were determined by general desired type to be built as well as tonnage. Simple drawings were often made showing backbone details and frame spacing. These methods of building are now far from our practical knowledge. They may have been implemented in an experimental manner, but with a much slower time line in the construction. Today, most traditional boat builders build by analog lofting, computer aided drafting, or a combination of the two- as we are for the Maryland Dove.    

STH

The Beginning

My boat building mentor had this almost mysterious platonic view of building boats. He’d express that because we work from an ideal form, that we are involved with the divine, whether we carry explicitly spiritual beliefs personally or not. He thought that whenever an ideal exists that one strives to make manifest in the material world that they are caught up in a larger story, an old dream that has descended upon so many minds.  You could call it beauty, you could call it something else. So when I thought, how to begin writing on the progress of the build of the Dove, I thought of how my mentor’s view complicates the simplicity of how to locate the  beginning of the building of a ship.

A materialist might say that we didn’t start until we put blade to raw material and cut something out of it. An idealist on the other hand might say that this project has existed perennially and that it has only fallen upon us to act it out once again. An existentialist might say something far too complicated for this blog post. Wherever we began, I think it absurd to begin with a picture of the keel in the shipyard or to begin with the loft floor or a shot of the architect’s lines drawing. So consider this a prelude and consider it a giving of respect to those who have been possessed by this trade of shipbuilding before us, to the history that we are swimming in, to the raw material that we (attempt to) bend to our will, and to the dream that keeps us going- that keeps us building.

Its a hot and humid day in St Michaels this July 20th at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. In the shop our massive loft floor fills what used to be additional space for workbenches. Out back we have pieces of southern live oak and cortez which are being used for the backbone build up all in various stages of shaping. Out front and piled up along the perimeter of the yard you’ll see slabs of white oak and long lengths of locally harvested ash and some not so locally harvested angelique.  Come on a weekday and you’ll surely meet a few of our eleven staffed shipwrights perhaps sweating beneath a straw hat- Anywhere you look you’ll catch a buzz of the Dove project.

We have nearly completed lofting out the vessel from the drawings provided to us by our architect, but born out of collaboration between lead builders, historians, archaeologists and sea captains; and we are close to finalization of our joinery configuration which is a dance between ideals of structural integrity and available material. We’ve also sifted through all of our cortez and live oak- setting pieces aside for the keelson, gripes, sternposts, etc. The keel was fastened a month ago and the stem and sternposts are being shaped currently.  In the coming week we’ll see backbone pieces getting closed out, and perhaps a rabbet cut into our keel. We’re in full swing and hope you’ll follow along as we craft a new icon for the state of Maryland and continue to peer into the mysteries of shipbuilding. 

-Samuel T Hilgartner
lead rigger/ shipwright