Logging spars by hand

Posted By on February 12, 2012

We’ve finally got enough snow out in the deep woods to make logging possible, so the long process of cutting and hauling spars has begun. We own a little over 40 acres of mixed pasture and woodlot, all of it on a mix of steep ravines and small mountains, and at the very back edge of the lot stands a tall grove of straight spruces. Needless to say, this grove is on a very steep incline over some rather rough terrain! We made the first trip out there a couple of days ago and selected the trees to be cut.

Ekk pulls the sled containing chainsaws, snowshoes, rope, and the come-along. Shown with optional goat.

The first part was easy. There is a logging road going to the back of our property. We keep it plowed for a friend who has a deer camp back there. Our young harness goat in training, Oscar, tagged along for the adventure.

Snowshoes were required for the next leg of the trip.

Once at the end of the road, it was snowshoe time. We put the chainsaw in a plastic half-barrel that would later serve as a skid to keep the end of the logs on top of the snow. From the road, it was about half a mile or so to the spruce grove.

This is some of the terrain leading to the spruce grove. Snow depth varies from 6 inches to 3 feet.

We selected tall straight trees of the approximate diameter and marked them for later use. While Ekk cut two down for later hauling, the goat and I wandered around and harvested spruce gum for later use. Spruce gum can be boiled and added to beeswax, which is then used to wax thread for sewing canvas.

Hauling spars back to the road

By the time we got trees down, it was getting dark, so we made plans to come back the next day. It had been much colder, so the snow was frozen hard and would (mostly) support our weight. Here I am hauling the log that will eventually be a gaff. The project was good training for our goat, who is still working on the whole “getting out of the way” idea. Once I got the log moving, there was no way I was willing to stop. Oscar got his revenge, though – at one point I tripped and took a solid face plant into the snow in the middle of a raspberry patch. Oscar promptly ran over, jumped on my back, and used me as a stepping stool to get the brambles he hadn’t been able to reach.

Taking a break with my portable lap-warmer. This spar will eventually be a yard for the forward square sail.

The weather started to turn for the worse after we’d hauled two logs out to the road. There are more trees out there in the spruce stand, and we’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us. Heron still needs another half-dozen logs for spars and masts, not to mention spares. All these logs will need to be barked and shaved down to their final dimensions. And that’s not even mentioning all the canvas…

The rough model for Heron's prospective sail plan. The scale is 1 inch to one foot. The little scale indicator amidships represents a 5'8" person.

 

 

Winter doldrums

Posted By on January 8, 2012

With winter solidly upon us, work on most outdoor projects has slowed or ceased. Heron is securely put away for the time being, and Merganser sleeps on her trailer. We made a lot of progress on Heron this year – from starting with just a laid keel, sawn frames were stood, ribs steamed and put into place, most of the planking nailed up, and all but five of her deck beams are in their final positions. The sawmill we’ve been using has closed down for now, and so those final five beams will have to wait.

Ekk and I are spending our evenings rereading Howard Chappelle’s books The History Of American Sailing Ships and The History of the American Sailing Navy. We sit by the woodstove and whittle or sew, listening to audio books of Patrick O’Brian’s Master and Commander series. And occasionally, recipes from Lobscouse and Spotted Dog show up on our dinner tables.

And all the while, we dream of the Caribbean.

Decking!

Posted By on September 22, 2011

We began cutting the main deck beams yesterday. The steam chest was refurbished and put back together for steaming the remaining ribs. (Heron uses both sawn frames and steamed ribs.) Ekk finished the calculations for deck camber this week, and she’s looking bigger every day.

The steam tank on its own. The tank is partially filled with water and a fire built underneath. Steam is then piped to the steam chest (not shown).

So far, we’re still on schedule for having a fully planked and decked over hull before snowfall. We’ll probably be looking for folks who want to come up and have a caulking party (or two, or three) at some point this fall. We can promise beer, barbeque, and space to pitch tents.

The current plan is to get the hull as finished as possible by snowfall so that we can do interior work and rigging all winter. Heron has several interior bulkheads to be put in, as well as a few bunks and storage lockers. A lot of the rigging can be done in the house by the woodstove. Like Merganser, all of Heron‘s sails will be handsewn from natural fibers. There’s also a variety of small-scale woodwork to be done, from belaying pins to gratings. Fortunately, both Ekk and I are pretty handy, and there are worse ways to spend a winter night than sitting around a woodstove with a hand project!

First Report from Plattsburgh 2011

Posted By on September 13, 2011

This past weekend we traveled with the Merganser to participate in the annual reenactment of the Battle of Plattsburgh. As always, this was a wonderful event and we had a blast.

Heron's Bow under construction

Heron's Bow under construction

Heron's bow from the inside

Heron's bow from the inside

On the way up, I managed to take a few snapshots of the Heron’s progress. She’s starting to look like a boat already. Ekk is making some really impressive progress and I can’t wait till work allows me some time to travel up to Vermont to help out in the process.

The lines of the sharp bow and the wineglass transom are beginning to show.

Heron's Stern

Heron's Stern

Friday evening we piled in the tow vehicle for the Merganser and headed to Plattsburgh. We arrived a little later than anticipated and set up camp, opting to put the boat in the water in the morning.

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A Glass of Punch

Posted By on September 3, 2011

My friend Tom was coordinating the drinks for a history conference we were both attending this past week, and I was delighted to discover our mutual interest in historical foodways. Specifically, in historical drinks. Tom made up several different punches from 18th and 19th century recipes and served them at social hour.

Regent's punch on the left; arrack punch on right.

He brought with him his copy of Punch: The Delights (and Dangers) of the Flowing Bowl, by David Wondrich. This book has been added to my must-have list.

Punch: The Delights (and Dangers) of the Flowing Bowl, by David Wondrich.

Punch à la Regent, by P. Watier, Royal Lodge, 1820: original. (page 235)

Take 4 oz. of clarified sugar, thin peel of 1 lemon and 1 Seville orange, 1 bottle of dry Champagne, ½ bottle of white brandy, ½ gill of rum, ½ arrack, ½ gill of pineapple syrup, 1 wine-glass of Maraschino; pour 1 quart of boiling water over 2 teaspoonsful of green tea; let it stand five minutes; strain, and mix with other ingredients; pass through a sieve; let it remain in ice 30 minutes.

Original source: William J. Terrington, Cooling Cups and Dainty Drinks, 1869.

 

The Regent’s, or George the Fourth’s, Punch. (pages 235-236)

Pare as thin as possible the rinds of two China oranges, of two lemons, and of one Seville orange, and infuse them for an hour in half a pint of thin cold syrup; then add to them the juice of the fruit. Make a pint of strong green tea, sweeten it well with fine sugar, and when it is quite cold, add to it the fruit and syrup, with a glass of the best old Jamaica rum, a glass of brandy, one of arrack, one of pineapple syrup, and two bottles of Champagne; pass the whole through a fine lawn sieve until it is perfectly clear, then bottle and put it into ice until dinner is served. We are indebted for this receipt to a person who made the punch daily for the prince’s table, at Carlton palace, for six months; it has been in our possession some years, and may be relied on.

Source: Eliza Acton, Modern Cookery for Private Families, 1845.

 

Tom and the punch bowl

Cozzens’s Arrack Punch (pages 122-123)

To one bottle of old Batavia arrack, add six lemons, in thin slices, and let them steep for six hours. Take them out very carefully, without squeezing. To one quart of boiling water add one pound of loaf sugar. When the sugar is dissolved, add the hot solution to the arrack. Be sure to remove the lemons first.

Original source: F. S. Cozzens, Wine Press, June 1854.

[Notes from author David Wondrich: "This recipe is meant for bottling. If you’re going to lay it down for keeping, it will need filtering after a few days. If arrack is lacking, it may be replaced here with cognac… Either way, this formula is simply too sweet to be drunk as punch without dilution. A little boiling water, though (say, equal parts), and it’s a most festive holiday drink – and what’s better, one that can be prepared days, weeks, or even months in advance."]

Bowl of Star punch

He also served Star punch, a drink he created in the 1980s for another conference out here on Star Island. It too was tasty, though I’m not a fan of star fruit all that much. I’m quite fond of both the Regent’s punch and the arrack punch, though, and I suspect both will be added to our stock of potential refreshments at 18th and early 19th century events. Thanks, Tom!

Another row of planking… with some assistance

Posted By on September 1, 2011

Ekk and I rode out Hurricane Irene at home in Vermont, and managed to get some work done on Heron before and after the blow.

Ekk at the stern

There’s now about 7 rows of planking per side. The frames have been taken down while the lower runs of planking are being put in.

Looking forward from about midships.

She’s looking larger every day. There will be several watertight bulkheads belowdecks separating the hull into cabin and hold space, with an emphasis on stability and floatation.

The stern framing.

We plan to have auxiliary power in the form of a small outboard that can be taken down as necessary, so there are no through-hull fittings at the stern.

Ship's cat Fang appreciates her new napping spot.

The boat’s not actually tilted; my camera was at an angle. All the animals in the yard are fascinated with our project. The cats think it’s a great napping spot; the hens perch on the planking, and the horses drink out of the soaking tank.

Ekk adjusts the newest plank.

Planks are installed using a series of small temporary battens and clamps. The battens will be removed when the steamed ribs go in later.

Silky keeps an eye on the wood pile.

Her planking is hemlock, with a white oak keel, and Doug fir decking.

Frogs in the soaking tank.

Characteristics of a British Sailor

Posted By on August 20, 2011

Ekk is away at the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum‘s Colonial Trades & Crafts Fair this weekend. Due to another obligation, I unfortunately can’t attend. I’ve got some spare time today to put together another post while I wait for Ekk to return with his camera and tell me all about it.

In the mean time, I’ve spent a lot of time scouring old newspaper archives for primary source bits of maritime humor or anecdotes of daily life at sea. This is especially useful for the quiet parts of the year when we’re not doing much due to winter. (I apologize for the long hiatus last winter; too much other stuff was going on.)

Ekk handsewing a sail, 2008.

Most of the bits I find are fairly short, but every once in a while there’s a longer one that’s worth saving to reprint:

Characteristics of a British Sailor, exhibited in Daniel Bryan, an. old Seaman, now in Greenwich Hospital.

Some of the last services of this aged veteran, were performed with Sir Sydney Smith, against the French in Egypt; when at Acre, old Dan was captain of the fore-top, who had been turned over from the Blanche into Sir Sydney Smith’s ship Le Tigre. During the siege of Acre, this hardy veteran made repeated applications to be employed on shore; but, being an elderly man, and rather deaf, his request was not acceded to. At the first storming of the breach by the French, among the multitude of slain, fell one of the generals of that nation. The Turks, in triumph, struck off the head of this unfortunate officer, and after inhumanly mangling the body with their sabres, left it, naked, a prey to the dogs. Precluded from the rites of sepulture, it in a few days became putrescent; a shocking spectacle! a dreadful memento of the horrors of war, the fragility of human nature, and- the vanity of all sublunary ambition, hopes, and expectations. Thus exposed, when any of the sailors who had been on shore returned to the ship, inquiries were instantly made respecting the state of the deceased general. Dan frequently asked his messmates, why they had not buried him?— But the only reply was, “Go and do it yourself.” Dan swore he would; observing, that he had himself been taken prisoner by the French, who always gave their enemies a decent burial, not like those Turks, leaving them to rot above-board. In the morning, having at length obtained leave to go and see the town, he dressed himself as though for an excursion of pleasure, and went ashore with the surgeon in the jolly-boat. About an hour or two after, while the surgeon was dressing the wounded Turks in the hospital, in came honest Dan, who, in his rough, good-natured manner, exclaimed, “I have been burying the general, Sir, and now I am come to see the sick!” Not particularly attending to the tar’s salute, but fearful of his catching the plague, the surgeon immediately ordered him out. Returning on board, the coxswain enquired of the surgeon if he had seen old Dan?” “Yes, he has been burying the French general.” It was then that Dan’s words in the hospital first occurred. The boat’s crew who witnessed the generous action, an action truly worthy of a British sailor, in whose character are ever blended the nobler and milder virtues, thus related its circumstances:

The old man procured a pick-axe, a shovel, and a rope, and insisted on being let down out of a port-hole, close to the breach. Some of his more juvenile companions offered to attend him: “No;” he replied, “you are too young to be shot yet; as for me, I am old and deaf, and my loss would be no great matter.” Persisting in his adventure, in the midst of the firing, Dan was slung and lowered down with his implements of action on his shoulder.—His first difficulty, not a very trivial one, was to drive away the dogs.—The French now levelled their pieces—they were on the instant of firing at the hero!— It was an interesting moment! but an officer perceiving the friendly intentions of the sailor, was seen to throw himself across the file. Instantaneously the din of arms, the military thunder coasted; a dead, a solemn silence prevailed, and the worthy fellow consigned the corpse to its parent earth.—He covered it with mould and stones, placing a large stone at its head, and another, at its feet.—But Dan’s task was not yet completed.—The unostentatious grave was formed, but no inscription recorded the fate or character of its possessor.—Dan, with the peculiar air of a British sailor, took a piece of chalk from his pocket, and attempted to write,—“Here you lie, old Crop!” He was then with his pick-axe and shovel hoisted into the town, and the hostile firing immediately recommenced.

A few days afterwards, Sir Sidney, having been informed of the circumstance, ordered Dan to be called into the cabin. “Well, Dan, I hear you have buried the French general?” “Yes, your honour.” “Had you any body with you?” “Yes, your honour.” “Why, Mr. — says you had not ?” “But I had, your honour; God Almighty was with me.” “A very good assistant, indeed:—give old Dan a glass of grog.” “Thank your honour!” Dan drank his grog, and left the cabin highly gratified. He is now, as we observed before, laid up (as a seaman might say) in Greenwich tier; there to reap the benefit of his long and faithful services.

- From R. S. Kirby’s 1803 Kirby’s wonderful and scientific museum: or, Magazine of Remarkable Characters. Volume 1.

Mary Anne Arnold, Female Sailor, 1840

Posted By on August 10, 2011

“A Female Sailor,” from the Sydney Morning Herald, July 10 1840.

Extract of a letter from an officer of the Robert Small, dated in that ship off the Cape of Good Hope, the 20th of October 1839. The Robert Small sailed from London last August.

“A very singular case has been discovered on board our ship; we have detected a young lady in the person of a sailor, who has come out with our crew from the time we left the Thames until it was found that she belonged to the fair sex. Her name is Mary Anne Arnold. She is the daughter of the late Lieutenant Arnold, of the royal navy, who served in that capacity on board the Ganges and Prince Regent men-of-war. Being a man of dissolute habits, he lost his commission in consequence, after which he resided with his wife at Sheerness, where, by continuing his habits of dissipation, he and his family were reduced to great distress. By the intercession of some friends, Mr. Arnold was admitted a pensioner in Greenwich Hospital, in which asylum he died recently. During the latter interval, and after her husband’s death Mrs. Arnold lived at Sheerness, supporting herself and her children by manual labor until the summer of 1835, when, after great exertion in the harvest field, she was attacked by bilious fever and died, leaving her children totally unprovided for. Mrs. Arnold’s furniture was sold to pay the expenses of her funeral, and some charitable neighbours took the orphans into their houses and supported them for a time.

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Planking begins on Heron

Posted By on August 7, 2011

Just before we went to Ogdensburg, I bought some hemlock boards to start Heron’s planking. I’d made a “soaking tank” from the remains of the portable garage (that discorporated late last winter). The planks went in to soak.

Boards in the soaking tank. Small frogs have taken up housekeeping and use the boards as beachside property.

Why soak? Well, some of the first runs of planking go from nearly flat, to vertical in about fourteen feet. Steaming is way too labor intensive (not to mention that getting them thoroughly saturated, then letting them be in the sun while working with them is pretty close, these days…)

 

View from the bow looking aft, first plank run.

This week I started the planking. On each side, there’ll be about fourteen “runs” (one plank width/full length of the hull) The other day, I started on the fourth run (half done on it, but there’s a bit of twist that needs to be “snuck up on” (as in tighten the clamps, let the wood settle a bit, lather/rinse/repeat). Once I get past the turn of the bilge, things will go a lot faster.

 

Clamping planks in place.

I’m using rough hemlock for several reasons. One: At today’s prices, one run costs about $11. Two, hemlock is fairly rot resistant. Three: It’s harder than pine. Four, it’s worked for several years on ‘Ganser.

Looking astern at first runs of planking. Upper parts of frames disassembled for planking access. The forge at right is for burning out the holes.

Another thing that I did/ am doing is that I’ve been collecting iron from various boat event sites that we’ve been to. I’m making a lot of Heron’s nails from that iron…so she’ll be part of every site we’ve been to. I’m glad to say that I’m using a fair bit of iron that we brought back from the Restigouche event. Much of that our friend who passed away (RIP, Joe) helped collect, then put it in ‘Ganser before he left the site… the last time I saw him.

The stern section, with three runs of planking in place.

Photos from Ogdensburg 2011, plus a new development!

Posted By on July 26, 2011

Heart of Oak has joined the modern era (in a manner of speaking). We’ve got a Facebook page now. Please check us out and “like” us over there, too.

Photos from Ogdensburg can be seen here at the Facebook page.

More photos will be added as other crewmembers dig out their cameras and extract the photos.