Standing Heron’s Frames
Posted By Sarah on December 12, 2009
Bow timbers in place
Progress is slowing down for the winter here at our little shipyard, but a lot of work has been done this summer. Heron’s keel has been laid (all three courses), her full frames have been cut and stood, and the steamer is standing by.
The frames are temporarily screwed together until we get an initial series of planks on to fair everything up, then the final trunnels will go in. This is to prevent unnecessary holes if we have to adjust any of the frames. For similar reasons, the frames are only bolted to the keel until we ascertain their final positions.
Since there was a race between budget and weather (and weather won), we’ll be unbolting the frames and laying them flat to prevent damage until we can get a better roof up over our workspace. (A heavy load of snow could warp the timbers, since they are currently free-standing and unsupported by battens or planking.)
Heron's inner stem
All work doesn’t stop with the first snowfall, however. Once enough snow accumulates to smooth out the terrain, we will start dragging straight spruce trees down from the back hills to begin work on her masts and spars. Likely-looking ash trees will become her sweeps. Quiet winter nights are the perfect time to work on blocks and other small items of rigging.
We will be using the same trick preferred by the old Maine sailmakers and going to a nearby pond to lay out the sails once we have her actual measurements figured. (A frozen pond provides a *very* large flat space to work on if you can get a calm day.)
We’re currently looking for another source of hemp cord so we can get more line made. (Yes, we make our own rope of various sizes – we have a large-scale ropewalk outside, and a smaller one that runs down the house for lengths under 10 yards.) We’ve been using fine hemp cord and thread from a bead-supply place, but that gets expensive.
Looking down the keel towards the stern
Work goes fairly slowly due to the large amount of work that is done by hand and in a very rustic setting. Our shop is part of a largely off-grid homestead with limited electricity, so power tools must be used sparingly. A broken tool means Chris, the resident blacksmith, must stop work and go fire up the forge.
Friendly farm dogs, cats, and the occasional inquisitive horse will drop in for a visit and have to be discouraged from helping. (Horses are the explanation for some of the gouges in Merganser’s rail and decking – the horses have decided she’s tasty and will try to chew on her if allowed.)
It’s all just part of the way things work around here. Things do take longer, but there is a simple pleasure in knowing it has all been done with an awareness of traditional skills… and of course, knowing that if anything breaks we can fix it ourselves without consulting a catalog!
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