Days 5, 6 & 7

A quiet mind while working with my eyes to my hands has resulted in small pieces of progress, but little to write of. Recent work has improved my proficiency with tools and made problem-solving within a workshop more feasible. Mortises (square holes) in the gunwales have all been cut and the ends are almost totally shaped. Photographs accompanied with labels to clarify language and terms will soon follow when the kayak takes on a more interesting, kayak-like form.

I do consider myself blessed to have such an activity that grants such mental harmony. How do you provide your mind relief and be inwardly quiet? If nothing, make time, and seek what your mind prefers. Not an escape, just an intermission.

Day 4, 3/26/10

The tools and the wood each wait. Patiently enough that I discover they have not moved for two months. I reacquaint myself with locations and plans. My mind recalls what was missed in my absence and why in this work I find enjoyment. Much of my time is spent building the forms that will hold the boat in it's final shape. These forms will remain on until the boat's frame can hold the shape for itself. As blisters form I begin to wonder if it were less painful to use the edge of my hand instead of a saw. The rhythm builds and the blade sings it's song. I contemplate mounting the finished boat on the wall instead of allowing it the get wet. Out of frustration and impatience I hurry which in turn yields more frustration and poor results. Perhaps that's why my grandfather was skilled at catching fish; patience. He would correct me for casting out, quickly reeling in and repeating. But we all have our own stubborn ways that we think will accomplish our goals. You can't hurry greatness. I finish marking the gunwales (pronounced gun-nuls) or the rails that run the length of the boat. Soon I will plane them down, put them in the forms and finally the kayak will actually bear a resemblance to a kayak.

Day 3, 1/1/10

I was blessed with the opportunity to visit Skipping Fish Boat School here in Louisville, which teaches and guides people through the skin-on-frame boat building process. Through the owners' generosity and kind spirits I was able to sit in some of the boats, make novice inquiries, and snap photographs.

After visiting Skipping Fish I did change the direction in my own building plans. I have decided to forgo redwood gunwales after the general concensus that redwood is too brittle. I am scarfing (or joining together) three 6 foot long white pine sections for each gunwale to make the 16 foot long sections needed. I used the most volatile epoxy I have ever worked with to adhere the joints in the scarfs. This particular joining method yields joints that are stronger than the wood that surrounds them.

On this particular day I was assisted by my good friend Ed Moll, also soon-to-be step-father in-law. Geometry and fractions were something to be avoided in high-school but there is no getting around it when working with wood. Ed's experience was very much welcomed. Our time was spent transferring the measurements of my body to the kayak. The West Greenland kayak is a reflection of it's pilot in every sense. The rib spacing is measured by the length between my thumb and middle finger. The length of the kayak is 3 fathoms (one armspan is a fathom) minus a cubit, the length of my middle finger down to my elbow. The width is measured by my hips plus two fist-lengths. Time moved quickly and with the gunwales now adequately marked we moved to the door. Ed was able to meet my grandfather, so much of my repect for him was able to be shared. I haved learned much even in just the short time working on the boat and remembering my grandfather. In his life he never stopped learning. Perhaps that is one of the things that made my papaw who he was. Have you met someone who has stopped learning?

Day 2, 12/17/09

Where inexperience and desire meet, frustration is fueled. I find myself fumbling and moving slowly in the worshop. Retracing steps, standing for moments trying to organize thoughts. An interesting comparison as I can remember my grandfather moving quickly and effortlessly about the garage.

A new piece of wood is introduced into the workshop. The first of it's kind in quite a while since the garage has laid silent. It is a 1x6x18 clear redwood plank. Only recently have my eyes begun to see the beauty in such an object. My papaw would sight down the plank, smooth over it with his hands and say, "That's good wood." This particular piece will form the gunwales, pronounced "gunnels", which are the rails of the kayak. In a framed boat that is covered in a fabric "skin" the gunwales are the support, or foundation, if you will. Unfortunately the only measurable progress was safely arriving to the garage with the 18' long plank intact and still on the car. Inside the garage the work of organizing and locating continues. Strangely, only one sawhorse can be found. The decision is made to build an exact copy. After a few cuts and much calculation my saw horse has taken the form of an ostrich; two legs with it's head buried in the sand. I have however learned to remove a table saw blade without cutting myself. The vast array of band-aids and gauze found about the garage are, I feel, a foreshadowing of things to come. Time moves quicker than expected today so I tidy up and hide the evidence of my lame horse, give goodbyes to Grandma, Connie, and Holly and allow the workshop to grow dark and silent once again. But not for long.

Day 1, 12/14/09

Even in the simple action of opening the door a rush of memories filled my brain. Before I was even in the shop I can fully recall the person who was my Grandfather. Can you remember a time where you return to a once familiar place and have to stop to allow the memories and thoughts to completely move through you? You literally stop and take everything in. Not like entering your kitchen at home where you allow yourself to be moved by necessity and routine. I see my papaw. I see a little blond-haired boy shadowing him. Much of my time as a child was spent in my grandfather's garage although it was not by my desire, as someone had to watch me during the summer and that someone put me to work. To be in this place was not to resurrect the person but to see and understand him a little more. After all I am only here to build a boat. A skin-on-frame kayak to be exact and my grandfathers workshop contained the tools and the space necessary to build such a craft. I took this afternoon to inventory and locate tools. I soon realized that in order to do this I would need to clean and organize. As I began, I moved through layers of dust and wood to find little pieces of my papaw. Brushing through the sawdust I find a spokeshave, then a plane, then a sliding bevel, and so on. Then I found something that I had not intended to and I froze. On my grandfather's workbench were the letters "NPD" carved in the wood. Perhaps it was his handwriting, perhaps it was recalling his full name, or even just a reminder of his character, but it was a recollection of my papaw that moved me to tears. I ran my hands over the carefully carved letters almost hearing his voice, "Norman Perry Downs". Silence. I am building this boat alone, drawing on what little personal experience I can, wishing my grandfather was here to help. But with each sweep of the plane and pull of the draw knife I am continuing something greater than just myself. I know he would be proud. The entries that follow are a journal of progress, list of lessons learned, photo album, and recollection of memories. Please enjoy and comment if you wish.