The halfway mark - about. . .

So over the past month, I have been working on creating new decks for the canoe - These are triangular shapes at the bow and stern that bring the ends to a tidy close, offer structural support and providing a nice drag handle so you can pull it out of the water.  I had the originals, but I was forced to hack them up as they were rotten on the ends.  An early attempt to splice in a repaired piece of wood was a failure when I cut the splice too short and the replacement didn't fit.  And on the advice of a wise woodcrafter - "Why are you trying to save that old wood - your canoe isn't worth that much so no one will ever notice you didn't use the original pieces."  Trash.

I cut the new decks out of Ash, and then milled them into the shape of the old decks (which had a slight concave bow from front to back and a slight convex curve from the centerline down for water run off.  These were originally made in a press.  Mine are now made by taking a thicker piece of wood and sanding it to the "right" shape.  I then dropped the new pieces in, and with a lot of rope, pulled the sides in to match the shape of the decks.  Truth in lending, the seams didn't align perfectly, so some wood filler closed the gaps, and once I stained the filler, and covered it with several layers of varnish, the work was complete.

Interesting side note here.  My 1964 boat shipped with a decal originally.  The decal is literally like a kids tattoo - you soak the back and it slides off the paper.  However, the decal is extremely fragile.  If it has bent in shipping at all, or if you try to pull it off prematurely it shatters.  Decals:2, Jason:0 thus far.  I am waiting until the next canoe festival, called an assembly, so I can by 5 (@ $8.00 a piece - ugh), as I am going to make this work. 

2 weeks ago, we canvased the boat.  This is done by draping the canvas across the boat while it rests on saw horses.  The canvas ends are marked at the mid point and the quarter.  The mid-point mark shows where the centerline of the fabric is so that you can align the boat under it.  The canvas ends are then closed with two massive wooden clamps that hold the fabric in place.  The center of the clamp is aligned with the quarter marks, and then once closed, the center of the clamp is connected to either a fixed point or a "come-along" with a chain.  The canvas is then pulled taught.  Taught seems to be determined with this complex formula - "We pull until we hear the boat creaking and then we pull a little more."

 Tradition says that the crew who worked on the boat signs the boat.  Fletcher signed for me and Amy signed for Zoe.

The boat before the canvas in the shop at the Boat Builder's School

Once pulled taught from front to rear, the canvas is then pulled tight from left to right against the center, with guys working on opposite sides in parallel.  Each side pulls the fabric with a pair of Frankenstein modified vice-grips which pull the canvas by wrapping it into the inside of the boat and then staples are placed through the planks and into the ribs.  With two stainless steel staples in each rib the process is repeated as you move down the boat.  You know you have it right when the fabric bubbles on the outside of the staple.  You know you have it wrong when the staple pulls back out.  Like magic.

Here you can see the clamps and the guys working in parallel placing staples along the ribs

Once you get to the decks, we pulled the clamps off the ends and here is where it gets hard to envision.  By pulling the fabric straight out from the boat, you take a knife to the inside of the fabric to the point on the bottom of the hull where it straightens out.  Holding the fabric out, you cut along the fold, splitting the fabric about in half.  Pulling the fabric back over the boat, we applied double sided carpet tape, just like the natives once did, along the stem (the very front edge of the bow or stern).  Once the tape is in place, 5 guys pull along each of the planes (X, Y, and Z axes) as hard as possible, while another guy or two holds down the far end of the boat.  Once pulled really tight, the canvas is then pulled around the stem laying it smoothly over the tape, which holds it in place, while you drive staples down the stem.  (by the way, every staple is tacked in with the stapler and then driven into place with a hammer.)  Once the canvas is stapled in place, a sharp knife is used to trim the excess cloth from the edge.  There is nothing that wraps around the other side of the boat.

Using the staple puller and stapler in parallel exposes the author's neck fat.

This is repeated using the other half of the fabric, and then repeated again on the far end of the boat.  This is a very physical process and the more manpower, the better.  The guys from the Boat School were amazing in pulling this off.  Once this is complete, we finish stapling to the decks and the step is complete.

The fabric cut back and the one side tacked into place.  And the signatures of those who helped.

The canvassed product before the filler and epoxy

On Saturday following this, Bud, one of the heads of the Boat School and a real canoe guru, took an addition step which really cleans up the canvas stems and offers an additional protection from abuse.  He mixed up an epoxy resin and painted it down the stems.  He then covers it with a saran wrap material and pulls it tight which smooths over the resin and holds it into place.  With a light sanding after it hardens, you get a very smooth nose to the boat with a rock hard surface.  It is really a nice finishing touch. 

This Tuesday (4/12), we filled the boat with an oil-and-silica based filler.  The filler serves really two purposes.  It filled in the voids in the canvas fabric which would allow for water to fill the boat, and it hardens the shell to create a semi-rigid surface to protect the wood underneath.

The process is simple and messy.  First the epoxy stems are sanded smooth.  Next we mix the filler.  I have been rolling the filler since it arrived last fall.  Every few weeks I would flip the can to keep the solids mixing in the liquid, and over the last month I have done this every day.  However, when I opened the can, the bottom was full of the solids and rock hard.  Mixing for 30 minutes broke it all up and back into the liquid and now my right forearm looks like Popeye. 

Using simple gloves made from the canvas, worn over doctors gloves, we rub the liquid into the hull of the boat into the canvas.  The filler is essentially pushed and forced into the weave.  This process continues using several medium-heavy coats and a lot of banter as one guy pours and paints while the rest massage it into the fabric.  This liquid has to cover every inch of the canoe canvas and in turn flows down to the staple line. 

The filler gradually takes on a sheen, at which point the canvas glove is removed, and the rubber glove is used to smooth the filler.  The filler is again rubbed until it is smooth and ready for drying.  Dry time is about 3-4 weeks depending on the humidity and temperature.

Interesting side note here - The filler used to be lead-based, which explains why there are not a lot of old canoe builders around.

The finished product - Awaiting drying and paint - Note the darker brown on the end of the boat - that's the epoxy resin.

Me and my third child - with less neck fat.

Next report - Building  paddle from scraps of wood.  PS - My canoe will be the original green (or close to it) - Who paints a canoe yellow?