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.