Hiatus

A much welcome stint of paddling interrupted for a while the building (I've already returned to it, however, and there's some progress. Ribs and keel stringer installed. Working on the chine stringers. Updates soon).

I went to Gijón, northern coast, to paddle with Xabier (whose beautiful S&G Night Heron accompanies my own Fun Run Sedna in the pic above) and a bunch of other local paddlers. They are forming a sea kayak association (AKDMA, Asociación Kayak de Mar Asturias) somewhat after the example of the neighboring and successful AGKM and ACKM in Galicia and Cantabria, respectively. By the way, a sizeable group of Cantabrian paddlers showed up as well.

Saturday afternoon, however, Xabier and I were on our own. Conditions were interesting. Close to 3 m of steep (7 s period) waves and NE F4-5 winds. We briefly tested the situation out in Gijón Bay and promptly turned back to El Arbeyal, our very protected launch beach for a bit of surfing (rarely possible there). Fun time and some nice rides (mostly Xabier's) that ended up with my swimming when a successful roll after a capsize righted me just in a time for a second wave to play with me. Proof (not that it was needed) that solid back sculling can be very useful and is not just a trick to impress onlookers.

Sunday morning, the air was definitely colder (snow later in the day) and things at sea were, if anything, slightly more interesting. The videos should give an idea, though, as always, it now looks tamer on them than it did when in the middle of it.

We started on the intended route, nonetheless, with sea and wind from the bow. That I found quite manageable, but I worried about a substantial return leg with those same conditions as following, or rear quartering seas, which I always find far less comfortable. Therefore, when after a brief while a small group proposed turning back, I adhered with an inner sigh of relief.

Back at El Arbeyal, it was some more surfing and a bit of rolling and it was fun. Added to the paddling was the time spent with Xabier and his family around Gijón enjoying talk, food and cider. All in all, a great weekend.

Note: As usual, pics and vids not mine. They are here courtesy of Edu, a Cantabrian fellow paddler.

Stem plates

A.k.a. breast hooks, transition plates, etc. I went with Morris rather than Cunningham and used thinnish plates. Ash from a scrap at the bow and plywood at the stern.

It is really, a rather minor advance, notwithstanding that it took me quite a while to get the plates in place. So minor it is highly dubious that such small progress merits a blog entry. Well, maybe not by itself. However, the very gentle curve of the ash bow plate was obtained by bending it after 15 minutes in boiling water and that was a first for me. A sort of very, very light introduction to the daunting mysteries of steam bending. Also, installing the plates meant abundant use of the chisel and I have discovered it is a tool I really enjoy utilizing. And the fun didn't end just there. The final shaping was almost exclusively a spokeshave job, probably my favorite tool of all.

But most of all, the finished plates signal that installing the ribs comes next and with it the exciting steam bending, which, of course, has me quite worried.

Stern piece and chines

Well, the stern piece is in place now (as in the previous post, the pic is upside down, to show how it will look in the finished product). It didn't come out as neatly as the bow stem, but I think it will still work.

That's one good thing about SOF building: you can feel great when if you totally nail it, but if you don't, it is likely it will still do and you don't have to fight impulses of setting the whole thing on fire that sheer frustration can elicit.

And one good thing of having those forms I built at the very beginning of the project in place is that you can fool around in many ways instead of doing real work.

For example, I could put the chine stringers (not yet processed) in what will more or less be their positions and check how things look. The hull shape that can be surmised seems, in my opinion, to match well the nautical software prediction of a rather stable boat for its beam. It also seems that the secondary chine will also be present and roughly where it should be, etc...

Mostly, it was fun just watching and imagining.

Bow stem

The pic above (turned upside down for aesthetic purposes, by the way) documents some minor additional progress. The bow stem piece has been installed.

With tolerable success, I dare say, judging from the parallelism test.

Rituals

This photograph (typically, a better version of it) also seems to be a frequent part of the ritual that accompanies the building of traditional qajaqs in the Western world. At times, it seems there would be a vague corpus of prescriptions that if you fail to observe your qajaq won't track true, will be slow and will leak

Edward S. Curtis recorded how in Nunivak Island, during the winter kayaks were built inside the giya, the men's house, amidst abundant ceremony. The event involved the whole community and an elaborate ritual. Participants wore specific clothes or were partially or totally naked, as required at different stages. Prescribed foods carried in particular recipients were consumed and the men whispered their secret hunting songs and sung out their childbirth songs to their new kayaks.

Sometimes, I wonder if posting pictures and keeping blogs is not what we do instead. Ways in which we keep involving a community, somewhat diffuse nowadays, in something that continues to be important for us (not to the same extent, of course. Usually, our livelihood is not linked to the qajaqs we build).

Compulsory ribs

I am under the impression that this photo, or some variant of it, is pretty much a major requirement for any semi-respectable qajaq building blog. Therefore, fuzzy and low quality, but here it is.

Wood is American ash (thanks Javier). Sawn quite a while ago and, hence, quite dry. Accordingly they'll be soaking for at least a week, probably more.

3D

I rescued the forms/spreaders from the wood pile and returned them to their original positions along the gunwales. Then, I used them to temporarily set the the keelson in its proper position and, suddenly, the qajaq gained a third dimension.

It became an object with volume and I confess the effect did strike me quite a bit. For a while, I just stood there looking at the arrangements, or, perhaps, rather contemplating what they suggested about the future boat. As far as I can judge, it seemed all quite pleasing, though old doubts about being able to get inside did creep back at times.

The initial plan was having the keelson in place so I could determine its intersection with the end pieces, accordingly finish shaping those, set them up and, then, with end pieces and keelson temporarily in place, estimate rib lengths.


Then, I realized the keelson was already at its, proper intended depth and the end pieces were not actually required to for measuring ribs. This should allow me to cut and prepare the rib stock and set it to soaking while I finish the end pieces, build a bending jig and and get ready the steaming apparatus (thanks for the box, Xabier).

So, I've set to it.

Templates are your friend

At least, they are mine. Definitely.

Building a replica, particularly if it is the first qajaq (actually, the first thing) you build has its problems, but, for a guy like me, it also has some advantages. You don't get to choose (and, therefore, worry) about length, width, rocker, draft or the shape of bow and stern. Supposedly, you found all those features, at the very, very least, acceptable in the original that caught your fancy. Instead, you get to worry about reproducing them in a reasonably faithful manner.

Such a situation affords many opportunities for the use of templates. Of course, I am using most of them. Among the global uncertainty that, for good or bad, will only be solved the day the qajaq is launched, templates provide most welcome interludes of relative safety. As the pics show, shaping the stem pieces has just presented me with one of these precious moments.

And it seems to be working.

Note: Bow piece at the top, stern piece at the bottom.

Progress

After quite a while, I've returned to working on the future qajaq. I am tackling the stem pieces so, with the aid of the forms I can do a mock installation of the keelson and, from there, estimate rib lengths.

As usual, it's proved exciting, with moments of doubt, moments when you are certain that you have messed up things big time and the moments of immense relief when you realize you either actually had it right, or it wasn't so bad, after all.

In any case, there's some advance.

Γοργοπόταμος

That is, Gorgopotamos.

Which means something like "rushing river" and is the name of a village and, more relevantly, a river in Greece, in the Phtiotis, near its capital city of Lamia, some 250 km north of Athens.

"More relevantly", not because said river provides, as far as I can tell, any good paddling. Well, maybe it does outside the stretch I know. Rather, because, in that part, it forms a canyon (readers of exceptional fidelity and memory may remember that I consider canyoning and paddling activities that essentially share the same ethos, though).


Actually, it forms a big canyon. A canyon, perhaps not very famous, but with a certain reputation, often considered among the greatest in Europe and, possibly, the world. The reputation probably has something do with its having lots of water (so much at times that some years it has not been descended at all) and no known exits once you are in and with its 4.5 km in which it goes down 850 m. But also with things about which those numbers don't say anything: its enormous beauty and grandeur, the magnificent spruce forests of its headwaters and a certain feeling of remoteness and epic loneliness that pervades the whole activity.


It happened that our Dolomismo friends, Santi and Annabella, were on climbing-canyoning holidays in the Balkans in early Ocotber, and invited us to join them and another friend, Elíes, for a go at Gorgopotamos and a bit of fooling around in other canyons in the area. We couldn't say no.

Fortunately.


Note: As usual, pictures not mine. Credits and thanks go to Santi and Annabella. There are some more of their Gorgopotamos photographs here and a more more proper chronicle (in Italian) here. Also, this YouTube video of a descent by another group should help in getting an idea of the kind of place that is Gorgopotamos. Thanks also to Thomas Georgas and the Alpina XOOOL Club from Lamia for their hospitality and help with information.

Changes (I). Spartan

2009 has brought a number of substantial changes to my kayaking. Some are very evident. For example: going into my garage it is hard not to notice that where a single kayak used to lie comfortably I am now trying to squeeze two plus the in-progress frame of the traditional SOF I am spasmodically building. And none of the two kayaks is the old one.

Chronologically, the Spartan came first and shared the garage with my old Creus for a time. The Spartan 4.6 is Fun Run Kayaks' faithful (and beautiful), fiberglass rendition of a West Greenland kayak. The key ingredients are all there: low volume, hard chines, low decks, relatively narrow beam, pointy, overhanging ends... However, at just 4.60 m long (and 50 cm wide), the Spartan seems to derive some inspiration from the recent rolling qajaqs besides the traditional hunting ones. The video below should give a fair idea of how the Spartan looks



The way I became its owner makes this kayak quite special to me. It came as the 2nd prize of a contest generously sponsored by its maker, Fun Run Kayaks. This was probably the only way I might ever get this boat. I knew it, I liked it (actually, I loved it), I had longingly looked at pictures of it again and again. However, I always regarded it as too much of a whim. One in which I was not going to indulge.For someone of my size, the Spartan 4.6 cannot cannot really work well for multiday trips. Even overnighters would be stretching it and I do both every now and then. Hence what I really need is a more versatile boat, that performs well with a load, but also in day trips. Moreover, at my current skill level, a 50 cm wide, low volume kayak should prove a bit of a challenge if conditions become "interesting".

In fact, I would guess that the Spartan 4.6 was originally largely conceived as a "roll & play" boat (and there is a minimalistic "roll&play" version) to practice and enjoy the rich repertoire of traditional Greenland maneuvers. Then the boat showed its seaworthiness and that it could shine as a day boat and I would say that most Spartans out of there are actually functioning in this role. That does not mean it does not perform brilliantly as a rolling qajaq. As the video below should show, in the right hands (not mine!), it is quite the opposite.



How has it been paddling the Spartan for me? As a certified non-expert, my opinion is not terribly relevant, but anyway: it has been a true delight. I find it light, quick to accelerate, capable to sustain typical cruising speeds with little effort, remarkably unaffected by the wind and straight-tracking (I suppose the integrated skeg in its keel line has something to do with these two features), yet very easy to maneuver. So far, in the moderate conditions I've had it out it has always been a joy to paddle it.



Note: As usual photos not by me (nor the videos). Authors of the pics, if I recall correctly, are Javier (from Salamanca), César, and another Javier.

Unfaithful

The date of the prior entry makes quite obvious that I have not been exactly attentive to this blog. And it's not just that I've been doing stuff and not writing about it (which I have). Possibly worse, it's that I have been similarly lazy in the construction of my qajaq. There have been no progress.

Partly, this is because I am typically more distracted during springs and summers. I have more work, but also there's canyoning, hiking and, yes, paddling too and this takes time from the building and writing. Partly, of course, it is because of straight laziness.

Nonetheless, when going down canyons or walking in the mountains the qajaq has never been far from my mind (I guess that's why it feels unfaithful) and I have often stopped to pick up chunks of hardwoods (which I have had to lug around for a bit in a few occasions) in which I see future pieces for the deck lines of the boat. You can see some in the pic. Boxwood from the Sierra de Guara and holm oak from the hills right beside home.

Patterns

I am a big believer in patterns. I can manage drawing of a kind by using computer software and I love making patterns for pieces in paper, cardboard, vinyl acetate, whatever... then cutting them and tracing their outline on the wood. It gives me a confidence I otherwise lack and, thus, alleviate somewhat the doubts and builder angst that I tend to suffer. In the past, I've resorted to patterns for things as simple as Greenland paddle tips. Above, you can see what I came up with for the two curved deck beams that my qajaq will have, beam # 5 (top) and the masik (bottom).



After a less than fluid relationship with a circular saw and a piece of ash, this is what I ended up with for beam #5, together with a new toy, I mean, tool. It actually proved quite useful and fun to use. The piece has been now installed and I have a quite solid deck structure where only the masik is still missing. It will remain like that for a while, though, as I plan to tackle stem and stern pieces next and leave the masik for the very final stages.

My Way, or disregarding advice...

Seized by a fit of builder angst, I called Xabier with silly questions about the lashing of deck beams. A frequent procedure is to place the lashing on the fore edge of the beam on one side and on the aft edge on the other. Well, in my case rib mortise locations prevented that for a good number of beams. The idea of lashing on the same edge on both sides did not appeal to me, as it evoked images of beams slowly removed from their postions by the cord's constant pull in one direction. I thought that by making two holes on the beam, instead of one I could center the lashings and avoid that, but wanted to check with an expert first. Xabier sort of favored the traditional arrangements, even if it meant lashings on the same edge. I said ok.

However, when the time came and, drill in hand, I approached the qajaq, an evil, innovative spirit must have possessed me. I suddenly found myself going with my idea and drilling two holes on the beams (sorry for bothering you for nothing, Xabier...). The pictures show the resulting lashing on the ash isserfik. I am now convinced I will pay for this folly.

And that was not all. Prey of the fever of the alternative, I tied figure-eight knots instead of half hithches for all the stopping knots and the knots around the bitter end of the Eskimo knots in all the lashings. In this case however, I seem to recall that Xabier said he had done something similar and the figure-eight are supposed to be a better stopping knot.

In any case, now there are nine deck beams in position. Two to go.

Bigfoot and the qajaq

The qajaq's deck is missing the masik and deck beam #5, but otherwise complete, lashings and gunwale joining included (still "terrific job" simetry-wise. Pics in some entry to come soon). That seemed a good time to play around with the positioning and height of those remaining pieces to ensure not so much comfort, but that I'll be able to actually get into the boat and that subsequently remaining inside for a while will not be torture. I was quite worried (by now it should be clear that I am good at finding stuff to worry about...) that such a thing would require substantial alteration of the deck that would ruin the gorgeous lines of the boat.

It turns out that, by the well-known-and-not-terribly-frowned-upon cheats of moving the masik slightly forward and pushing the aft edge of the coaming a bit behind the fore edge of the isserfik I could have pretty much used the original height of the masik. However, in order to accommodate my feet while wearing some mukluks I really enjoy, the foot brace required spacers and the bow end of the foredeck stringers needed to be moved closer to the stem, probably laying upon deck beam #3. I don't really have big feet. Average leaning to smallish, actually, but, obviously, those of the original user were even smaller.

Once it was clear this modification was unavoidable, I also decided to raise the masik slightly. I think the deck actually looks better that way and it should give me an extra bit of much appreciated comfort (and margin for error).

The picture shows the qajaq's original profile below and the one with the modified deck above. I must have compared them about a thousand times, not without some anguish. Perhaps it is just resignation (this has to be done if I actually want to use this boat) and self-deception, but I am slowly accepting that the aesthetic damages might be relatively minor.

Just Like that ... (Santander I)

... only bigger and, perhaps of a lighter color, is how, in my more optimistic moments, I expect my qajaq-to-be to end up looking.

What you see above is a miniature replica of the same boat I'm building, the DNM lc. 43 (KOG plate #31). It belongs to the growing qajaq collection of naval miniaturist extraordinaire, fellow paddler, angler, cook (his mahi mahi sashimi has become a bit of a legend...), SOF builder (what he paddles in the pic below) and nice guy, Rafa.

Rafa is a true expert in traditional sailing craft from the Mediterranean coast, particularly llaguts and the like, and he's reproduced at reduced scale quite a few of them. Then, he discovered traditional qajaqs and turned his talent to them, producing outstanding miniatures of different types at a truly remarkable pace. He brought them to the past kayaking gathering in Santander and checking out the latest additions, chatting about design features and the reasons behind them and generally admiring the beautiful little boats was one of the good moments of the long weekend.

As usual, I didn't make the pictures. They were taken by Javier, a new paddling friend I met in Santander. Another highlight of those days.

Ship shape

As, I guess, has happened to all first-time qajaq builders before, I found it pleasantly surprising how, all of a sudden, two long planks of wood suddently start looking boat-like when put on the forms.

Moreover, I did the string thingy to check for simmetry and alignment and I found I was within Cunningham's "terrific job" range. I wouldn't have taken any bets on that.


Not that everything went perfectly well and smooth, of course. The MDF forms did give some problems. Midly gloomy predictions by master craftsman Xevi (check his blogs, the qajaq, the umiaq and... well the other things... Very much worth it) tended to come true. A couple of the middle forms had one of their external arms broken and the bow and stern forms did tend to spread at the top (next ones, if there are next ones, will not be open in the middle).

Fortunately, friend and fellow builder Alfonso (whose qajaq and paddle building blog I also recommend heartily) had brought to my attention the contraption in the picture below when my project was little more than worries and a long list of potential problems in my mind and how to deal with a changing gunwale flare was prominent among them. It is basically two pieces of wood joined on top and bottom by Spanish windlasses, thus allowing for separate adjustment of pressure on the gunwale's upper and lower edge.


It looks like it was inspired by (or provided itself the inspiration for) some instrument of torture, but, in any case, the thing has worked very well in persuading the gunwales to take the desired, varying angles. I really like it. If there are more qajaqs in the future, I think I'll go with simpler, sturdier forms coupled with this thing. Thank you, Alfonso.

The tendency to open of the end forms was cured using cam buckle straps around them. The straps also proved generally useful to help hold the overall shape. Oh, I also did the kerf cutting magic so the gunwales' ends make proper contact. And started cutting and adjusting the first straight deck beam (rasps and files, what a great invention...).

So, there is progress. I have something I can look at and think of a qajaq and I have learned for the future.

I have almost forgotten the moments of panic by now.

Avasisartoq

The kayak I am trying to, more or less, replicate (Danish National Museum Lc 43) belongs, as the one above, to the type H.C Petersen called avasisartoq, which Harvey Golden considered largely equivalente to his Type IV in Kayaks of Greenland. Distinctive of the type are the gracefully raised ends. In my opinion, they contribute significantly to the elegance and beauty of the finer examples of the type which could well be the Greenlandic kayaks I find most aesthetically pleasing.


Of course, the raised ends have some consequences for the construction. You would either need rather wide boards to carve the gunwales in one piece or, as I did, you could glue pieces at both ends, where you need the extra wood. The pic above shows the additions for the stern.

And that's the finished product, bow...


...and stern


Besides adding wood, I've removed some too and thus shaping of the gunwales' profile has been completed. I still need to bevel their inner edges so the skin can lay flat on the resulting surfaces. but that will have to wait for a few days: tomorrow I leave for a long (really long) weekend of paddling in Santander, in the Bay of Biscay (might not see comments to this entry for some time).

And I will be using a new kayak...

Edge Split

It's in my character to worry about stuff that can go wrong when trying to build something (and I understand that the first qajaq build has done just that to guys tougher than yours truly). Every now and then, I breathe deep and repeat the Construction Mantra "Keep building and it may not be a problem after all". Kind of works a reasonable number of times, but not with the problem shown in the picture. That one has me worried for real.

It's, I guess, what you call "edge split" or "grain runout" or some other technicality, wood fibers separating along the grain direction at the piece's edge (outer upper edge of the right gunwale in this case) or something like that. In any case, I understand it weakens the piece, it unfailingly drives splinters in my hands whenever I lower my guard and it's mighty ugly. I also believe it happens in a bad location, the central part of the boat, where the gunwales will bend the most and where shaping them is not going to take away any more wood from the upper edge.

I am wondering how to deal with it. I am considering liberally pouring epoxy thickened with sawdust or Titebond III in the cracks, then apply some/a bit of pressure and see what happens. Of course, I worry about what that will do to the gunwales flexibility...

Plunge Router!

I had never used a plunge router. In fact, I had never seen one live and up close till now that Xabier lent me his router to carve the mortises for the qajaq's ribs. Thankfully, it already came with the settings, depth and bit size, I needed. Nonetheless, I'll admit I was a tad daunted by the contraption.

Anyway, I practiced a bit on a scrap piece, then breathed deep and got to work. It took a me a morning to get the 38 mortises done and a reasonable number of them are actually quite straight. I am in total awe of this thing. I don't even want to think if I had had to do this with a normal drill and a chisel... Thank you, Xabier. Oh, and whatever may seem in the picture, your router was not about to fall down. There was a clamp securing it.

Again, I've learnt things as I worked. By mortise 20 or so, I decided that time spent securing the gunwales to the sawhorses through the use of extra blocks of wood and clamps was well worth it, while fixing a clamp to the gunwales to act as a stop (and taking it off and reattaching it in a new position for each hole) was not. Too late for the previous 19 mortises...

By mortise 30, I became convinced that attaching a block of wood on one side flush with the gunwales' edge to increase the support base for the router was also time well spent. Again, late for some 29 previous mortises, but, should there be more qajaqs, not too late for the mortises in them.

Worry of the day (hour...): My rib stock is 5 mm thick, same as the router bit's diameter. Obviously, the mortises ended up a tiny bit wider than that and the fit with a trial piece of rib was not vey tight in some cases. I suppse that soaking and steaming the ash may make it thicken and the slightly loose fit may actually turn out helpful. Otherwise, I suppose that some really thin shims may help.

Mistakes

I'm just marking locations of things on the gunwales and already I'm learning a lot. The kind of things that can't be told on construction manuals, be them books, or even the amazingly detailed qajaq building blog by Paco.

Proof of that, I guess (I hope!) is the number of mistakes I've already made, decisions I've reversed, etc. I'm slightly surprised. Realistically, I probably shouldn't be.

Good news is that I've caught those while no major harm was done. What worries me now is whether I could say the same when the ones I haven't noticed (and there will be some of those...) surface...

Shape

Another picture taken by yours truly. It does a great job of showing why relying mostly on other people's photographs for graphical illustration of this blog is such a wise course of action.

It also does a not so good job of presenting the set of forms which should shape my future qajaq. Sheer line will come from the gunwale flare those forms will kindly suggest to the gunwales. The (untested and regarded with sincere worry) slots for chine and keelson stringers should help me achieve the desired hull shape. I couldn't readily find plywood of adequate thickness, so I cut the forms from an MDF board. MDF seems to stand for Medium Density Fibreboard and appears to me like extremely compressed sawdust. We'll see how they work...

I don't actually expect the pieces of wood to fit on the slots in the first try, but that's what files and rasps were invented for, weren't they?

Knock on Wood

Yeah, I took the pic above. The place where my kayak usually rides on top of my car was then occupied by another (or, at least the frame, of another) one. Only, this one was in a very early stage of development.

By that time, the kayak-to-be was a 4,90 m x 20 cm x 5 cm piece of what is called around here "pino melis", which could actually be, shortleaf, loblolly, longleaf or slash pine (and reasonable likely to have come from "my" state, Georgia), and a 2'40 m x 15 cm x 10 cm chunk of American ash. Now the pine has become two future gunwales, two future chines, one future keelson, a piece to be cut into straight deck beams and some remnants and I hope to start working on them in a couple of days.

Masik and arched deck beams are still inside the ash piece and will remain there for a while yet.

Paddling

Passtimes...

Still not really working, so I keep spending (possibly just wasting) time in the small side projects. Namely, and since I want to build a semi-replica, I've been thinking (possibly just worrying) about ways to ensure as much a faithful reproduction of the hull as reasonably feasible.

What I've come up with are the modifications of the forms that determine sheer and beam that decorate this entry. I've extended them so that, besides the gunwales they will receive and, hopefully, keep in their proper positions the chine stringers and the keelson too.













I have to admit I actually have some mild fun doing this sort of things. They may even be useful, for example, they help me to keep track of the changing angle of the gunwales along the length of this qajaq. A feature that does scare me a little bit. Well, maybe more than a little bit, to be honest.

I really, really wonder whether this will actually work.