The Dash Point Pirate

Building a Custom Stitch and Glue West Greenland Kayak

Warren Williamson recently showed me the drawing of a kayak he plans to build. It’s one of many boats he has designed using a 3D modeling program called Rhino: a West Greenland style kayak, intended for “stitch−and−glue” construction. Using Rhino, Warren is able to develop a 3D model from a 2D lines drawing of a kayak, and then expand the panels to produce a “.dxf” file which can be plugged into a CNC router to produce panels in plywood. He has arranged all the parts of the kayak (bottom and side panels, deck, coaming and lip, hatches, bulkheads, and temporary station forms) so that they will fit onto three 4x8 plywood sheets.

In his workshop Warren showed me the resulting plywood parts, precisely cut out of 4mm BS 1088 Joubert/French marine plywood, just like in the drawings. This is the good stuff he said, not like the plywood that comes from China, which is also rated BS 1088 but has a more fragile face veneer. The owner and CEO of Chesepeake Light Craft, John Harris, agreed to cut and ship these panels for him for a small fee. The panels look remarkably thin and they all fit in a flat cardboard box. I am amazed how little lumber is needed for this kayak. I can tell it’s going to be sleek, low volume, and high performance. 

An experienced boatbuilder and graduate of the Northwest School of Wooden Boatbuilding, Warren has planned this project out to the last detail. I hope to follow the construction of his kayak closely as it progresses.

Warren and I spent the afternoon playing in the ebb at Deception Pass. The kayak he used, an Arctic Hawk SS, was designed and meticulously hand-crafted by Mark Rogers of Superior Kayaks. Although it looks like a plywood stitch−and−glue kayak I can’t really call it that because Rogers uses “stitchless” construction. He omits the wires that are used to hold the plywood panels in place while they are joined together with fiberglass and epoxy. The result is that the Arctic Hawk SS has none of the visible holes that are the artifact of typical stitch−and glue−construction. There is not one blemish that distracts from the gorgeous bright−finished wood.

When the current reached it max (around 6.8 knots) Warren showed me a spot at the Whidbey Island side of the Pass where a submerged rock kicked the water up into a small wave. In my skin−on−frame East Greenland kayak, I struggled to get on and surf the wave. The current tended to catch my bow and wash me away. After a few attempts I learned to lean back to be able to more easily swing my bow right into the current, and then lean forward to stay on the wave. I worked on getting a feel for surfing, and for slicing my paddle into the water by my stern to act as a rudder. I suppressed the instinct to keep slapping the surface to brace. When perfectly tuned, you can stay in one spot as the water rushes underneath you, without even touching the water with the paddle.

As the current died down to half max in Deception Pass, we paddled to Canoe Pass and joined a group of paddlers from NWOC. Surprisingly, the waves were bigger there than they were earlier at max. Warren said that can be the case when the wind blows from the west. At its maximum, the current is so strong that it flattens out the waves. As it slows down, an opposing wind and swell kick them up again.

Conditions were perfect for riding waves. I would slide down them and shoot upstream, do a few rolls, let the current wash me backwards, and then work my way back upstream, weaving among the half−dozen or so kayakers riding the waves along the way.

I’ve recently subscribed to Warren’s minimalism when it comes to gear: no pfd, no helmet. Just a tuilik. I enjoy a much greater freedom of movement. It seems to help me summon the playfulness of a rolling session in conditions that really call for it.

[VIDEO: Warren riding the wave at Deception Pass, then performing kingup apummaatigut “behind−the−back” roll]

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Installing a Redfish Kayak Seat

Here are the simple steps I took to install my Redfish Kayak seat in Black and Tan. 

I've struggled trying to make comfortable kayak seats for years and have tried minicell foam, inflatable cushions, gel pads, and off-the-shelf ready-made seats in combination with all kinds of backbands. Finally I had to give the Redfish Kayak Seat a try since everyone I've met who has sat in it says it is the most comfortable kayak seat they've ever tried. Joe Greenley will carve a seat custom fit to your dimensions and cockpit. He keeps templates for various kayak models (both wooden and fiberglass production boats) on hand. A Cadillac among kayak seats, the Redfish custom seat comes with integral hip pads and back pad and runs about $145. The seat I got from Redfish was just a "pre-sculpted seat blank" that Joe sells for $48. 

The original seat had a wooden backband that I really didn't find comfortable at all. It also tended to twist around on itself whenever I got into and out of the kayak. 

First I marked out where the new seat would go by locating the deepest part of the new seat where the black circles were on the old seat (the location of where the "sit bones" go). Then I made a pattern of the cross section of the kayak using two spare pieces of foam core. I drew on the foam core by tracing along the inside of the kayak with a Sharpie held an inch from the kayak panels with a block of wood. By cutting out and taping the two pieces together I made a pattern that matched the inside cross section of the kayak at the from edge of the seat. If the cross section of the kayak at the back edge of the seat is significantly different than the front end, you should repeat the process for the back edge. 

Then I traced the pattern onto the seat blank. I used a handsaw to rough out the shape, then shaped the seat further with a Stanley Surform tool. Sandpaper works well for finishing minicell foam and gives it a smooth surface with a texture like suede. 

The seat popped right into the cockpit with a little twisting. I secured it to the floor with Velcro strips stuck on with spray adhesive, so I could remove or reposition the seat easily for future adjustments and repairs. In combination with a couple minicell knee braces, the seat turned out the be the most comfortable kayak seat I have ever used! I can paddle all day in it, and it is deep enough and provides enough sacral support that I don't even need a backband.

The Work of a Master

Joe Greenley of Redfish Kayaks recently posted a picture of his latest cedar strip project, the Ursa 420, a unique rough water expedition kayak designed by and built for Robert Livingston, creator of the Bearboat Pro boat design software.  I remember seeing this project in the stripping stage in Joe's workshop maybe a year and a half ago.  Probably the most striking feature of the design is the really big aft compartment, which I think makes the boat self-righting.  There are four hatches, all secured by rare earth magnets.  Check out Joe's gallery for a closer look at the details.  As to be expected from Joe Greenley, the craftsmanship is superb!  Click here to read the original post.

While looking over Robert Livingston's site it struck me that I saw a kayak very similar to this years ago when I first joined the Washington Kayak Club and started going to their pool sessions in Tacoma.  I was struggling to teach myself how to roll and after an exhausting hour or so thrashing around, I sat on the edge of the pool and watched this guy perform slow and graceful sculling rolls in a short stubby white fiberglass kayak.  It had kind of a bulbous bow and a very large aft compartment just like the Robert Livingston design. A fellow observer told me he thought that boat was "self-righting".  Note the picture of the kid doing a hand roll with the Ursa 350 on the Robert Livingston site. 

Do you think they would let one of these boats into the Greenland National Kayaking Championships?

Coffee with the Monk

Here is a clip of Ricardo interviewing Lodro Dawa of Monkcraft Kayaks.  Lodro pounds on one of his boats with a hammer to demonstrate the strength of skin-on-frame construction.  Damn, those boats are tough!  I never had the courage to try that hammer trick on one of my own boats, but I bet they'd come through with hardly a scratch.  Lodro uses nylon coated with Corey Freedman's Spiritline "Goop", an incredibly flexible and abrasion resistant two-part urethane specially formulated for skin-on-frame construction.

Lodro Dawa and Super Secret Kayak Project X

Dick has commissioned a kayak from Lodro Dawa of Monkcraft Kayaks.  This isn't just any old Greenland skin-on-frame though.  The design is really going to be unique.  Lodro happens to be the only builder Dick approached who was willing to take on the project.  He grew up around boats and has been building things all his life.  Before he became a Buddhist monk in the Tibetan tradition, he did some professional design work making AK-47s kill more efficiently or something of that nature*.  So he's up to the challenge.  By the way, Dick doesn't want me to give away even the slightest clue as to what the secret design might be.  Let's just say for now that this experiment pushes the limits of skin-on-frame technology and is going to make a big splash when it finally hits the water at SSTIKS 2008!

Lodro is relatively new to the traditional kayaking scene.  Even though he started in this business only a couple years ago he's completed about 40 kayaks, each one custom fit to the individual paddler.  That's a lot of boats in a short amount of time, so I suspect he's got the formula down. 

The Monkcraft shop is located in the heart of Portland, just across the bridge from the commercial center and a few blocks from the Willamette River. It's actually a corner in a large community shop where all kinds of crafts people and artists rent workspace.  On street level is a coffee shop where some of the artists have items for sale -- sculpture, paintings and jewelry. Downstairs in the shop there is an amazing amount of activity going on.  The air is electric with creative energy!  Lodru says the trick to making this place work has been to price the rent high enough so that people can't afford to let projects sit idle.

He takes three kayaks down from the ceiling for Dick to try and takes measurements.  They discuss fit and dimensions and construction in painstaking detail. Lodro's choice of nontraditional features (keyhole cockpits, stitching along the side of the gunwale, elastic bungees) might offend the sensibilities of those ubertraditional graybeard types who prefer tight cockpits, Frankenstein's monster stitching down the center and leather deck lines.  Minor details. Lodro builds for real people -- not ghosts of the Inuit.  Besides, his woodwork is too polished to look like it was hewn out of driftwood on a desolate arctic beach.

 

 

When it finally comes time to try out the kayaks on the water, we take them to the car, drive a few blocks, then carry them down a steep ramp to a public dock on the Willamette.  We start losing sunlight rapidly as I get into Lodro's personal boat, a sporty, low volume model with a twisty pig tail, and paddle away.  It feels remarkably comfortable -- not common for a skin-on-frame that was made for someone else (there's usually a rib or deckbeam pressing in a tender spot).  It tracks well and turns easily.  It rolls easily too (damn that's cold!)  An all-around good boat.  Well, that's about all I can say after trying it out for five minutes anyway.

*[ADDENDUM:   Lodro recently clarified the details regarding his work in the rifle accessory business.  He took that job right out of college. All he did was design the sales brochure and a few drawings.  His work before he became a monk could be more accurately described as designing and building water monitoring systems and customizing river gauges.]

Dubside's New Kayak?

Well, I finally found that picture of the mysterious black kayak!  It was posted by Reg Lake on the Kayak Building Bulletin Board of course, a forum which I hardly ever read anymore, since I haven't been building kayaks and felt that there wasn't anything new there that I needed to know.  Plus I got away from the time consuming habit of browsing through the pictures of wooden boats like so much kayak porn. 

So whose face could that be on the deck?

Redfish Wooden Kayak Rendezvous

I spent the weekend in Port Townsend at the Redfish Wooden Kayak Rendezvous, “R2K7”.  I always come away from this event marveling at the craftsmanship that goes into each boat.  Among the crowd of people wandering into the lineup of kayaks on the beach, is always a person who will say, “What beautiful boats.  They are works of art!” 

As works of art, what do they say?

Maybe just as important as the end product is the story about how each boat was made and where the materials came from.  One of the builders I met had made a Yost Sea Ranger completely out of old aluminum crutches and ski poles -- the urban equivalent of driftwood, I guess.  It reminded me of George Dyson, who recycled old stop signs into parts for his baidarkas and paddles.  Another builder made a skin-on-frame sailboat for about $30 out of scrap wood.  The skin was made out of the plastic used to shrink wrap power boats with, and the sails out of surplus Tyvek house wrap.  It was built for the Lake Steven’s Aquafest $50 boat race. 

Isn’t it fitting that these small boats, which we wear as extensions of our varied individual bodies, and use to commune with the natural world in an environmentally respectful way (in contrast to those on power yachts and jet skis, for example) are not mass produced in factories running on cheap oil, marketed heavily in glossy magazines, purchased for thousands of dollars, shrink wrapped and shipped air-freight across continents and oceans to satisfy our unlimited desire for cool, shiny consumer items?  (Or are they?)

I’ve often thought of Greenland rolling as performance art also.  How many of you can’t help but launch into a spontaneous rolling demo in front of an unsuspecting crowd?  Especially if one is in a traditional boat, it tells the story of how the Inuit built these skinboats to live off the sea.   Moving through and rolling in and out of the water, the paddler resembles the very sea mammals that were hunted.  It's just a tiny sample of a lost ancient culture that enabled the arctic peoples to survive simply and sustainably for thousands of years.

[For the complete R2K7 photo album click here]

The Skinboat School

Class is in session at the Skinboat School in Anacortes.  Ricardo and I dropped by on school founder Corey Freedman as he stitched the skin on a new baidarka while another instructor carved paddles.  I was amazed by the number of skin-on-frame kayaks there were, in all states of construction, as well as the junkyard of forgotten kayaks and umiaks in back. 

Corey specializes in the baidarka design, but also makes the occasional Greenland qajaq.  I saw a sleek low-volume one and asked if it was a replica.

"I don't do that stuff," he said.  "I make boats for real people, not ghosts."

Compared to the baidarka, I don't think he finds the construction of the Greenland qajaq very exciting, or their design very good either. 

Note the treehouse: homage to George Dyson?

We also took a peak at Spiritline, the retail arm of the Skinboat School and a leading supplier of "skin kits" to the skin-on-frame crowd.  Because of it's flexibility and toughness, Corey's "Goop", a 100% solids two-part polyurethane, is probably the gold standard for waterproofing nylon skins.  Stacks of Part A and Part B plastic containers await shipment to builders all over the continent.  No one knows where he gets the stuff: it is rumored to be an intermediate step in the production of an industrial polyurethane used to seal concrete.

Selling my Osprey Triple and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

There are very few things that we really own in this lifetime.  It’s more like we rent and borrow.  I find myself always giving away old toys, clothes, furniture, home electronics, books, and selling off kayaks. If I haven’t used something in the past year, then I start questioning whether I really need it. A few days ago I finally sold our Pygmy Osprey Triple.  I had plans of taking the it out again with the kids in the San Juans for another summertime tour, camping on the outer islands and looking for whales.  After a lot of frustration trying to get them in it even for a little day trip at the neighborhood beach, I finally admitted to myself that they were not at all interested.  We don’t even own our kids -- they are definitely their own persons.  It’s hard to let go of the memories and dreams of what might have been.  Oh well, at least it went to a good family who I expect will get a lot of enjoyment out of it, instead of sitting forlorn in the driveway.  It was another successful Craigslist transaction by the way, sold in 18 days.  Unfortunately, I heard that they’ll start charging for that service in the near future. [PICS: captured frames from the video of the first time launching the triple]

Getting rid of your stuff every once in a while helps to become less attached to material things and let go of the past.  That leads me to a discussion of the Sunk Cost Fallacy.  Sunk Cost is the cost that has been incurred that is irretrievable.  Economists say that since the sunk cost cannot be recovered it shouldn’t play a part in rational decision making.  Just as an example, let’s say I’ve invested a lot, both financially and emotionally, in preparing to take the kids on a long summer kayak tour.  But there are still a number of expenses that need to be taken care of, such as proper kayak outfitting and extra camping gear.  When it starts to become clear that they really don’t want to go, I have to make a choice between sinking more money into the hopeless project or giving it up entirely.  Economics proposes that the fact that I’ve already spent a lot of resources on the project should have nothing to do with my decision.  Realistically, humans do not behave in that rational manner.  Instead, after investing a lot into a project, they tend to be more optimistic that the project will succeed (known as the “overly optimistic probability bias”), and sometimes, just continue on in order to save face.  They also fall into the Sunk Cost Fallacy, continuing on in order not to “waste” the resources already spent on a failing project, even though doing so means sinking more money into a hole.  That was just one example -- maybe not the best one because I can and did recover some of my cost by selling stuff on Craigslist.  This flawed decision making occurs all the time, and partly is resposible for cost overruns in big government projects.  I bet you can think of some good examples.

The Evolution#1

The other day Dick and I did an experiment with a kayak he has been keeping in storage for the past few years.  This is the Evolution#1, an 18ft long high volume fast expedition kayak constructed from plywood over a minimal internal frame.  It was made by "Blazing Aspen Kayaks" in Olympia, and I think the builder has moved on to other pursuits.  Although he named it Evolution#1 I'm not aware that there are any more of them and it may be a one off.  It weighs 45 lbs and used to be painted red, but now is green with some areas left bright finished.  Below the waterline the hull is coated with a very tough abrasion resistant black epoxy/silica/graphite mixture.  It has hard chines and is concave between the chines and the keelson (like the old Anas Acuta), so it simulates the shape of a skin-on-frame hull in the water. 

Dick brought the Evolution#1 to me to have a small hole in the rear bulkhead repaired (caused by forcing some gear into the aft compartment) and to test it out with some water ballast.  The reason he hasn't been using it is because it feels very tender empty.  If it still didn't feel stable after the ballast then he was prepared to put it up for sale on Craigslist. 

Dick got seven mylar bags free from his local Starbucks. When completely filled with water each bag weighs 12 lbs.  They are difficult to fill completely, even with a hose, so the total added weight was probably around 70-80 pounds.  Success! They made an incredible difference in stability.  It still didn't turn very well but we both felt like we could have paddled it all day.