Masts - the most popular spars in the Dockyard

Since the spar team has set out to laminate a lightweight mast for the Monomoy, we've had a lot of activity and discussion regarding these most essential of spars. And hey, what's not to love about masts? They are the basic facilitators of the back, arm and upper body fatigue preventing devices known as "sailing rigs" - something all oarsmen should be grateful for. From the technologically evolved to the most simplistic, there are a myriad variety with different uses, applications and methods of construction.

The most basic mast in the inventory is a "stand by" mast for the Monomoy which is made from a solid piece of Northern White Cedar. 15' 6" long and weighing in at 69 lbs, it is a force to be reckoned with. Honestly, I hope it becomes something else because the behemoth seems way too massive. But the numbers check out, so for now it is in reserve. Production was exceedingly simple - the spar crew went out behind the lofting bay, into the woods, selected the live tree of the correct size, then proceeded to chop it down. Still green, the tree was then stripped of branches and bark, and otherwise cleaned up. And while there hasn't been much in the way of shaping done, I'd wager it wouldn't take long to fit to the step.

The most advanced mast in the inventory is the primary mast for the same boat. Also 15' 6" long, it weighs in at just 22 lbs. The number crunching reveals only a negligible decrease in strength over a solid spar. Of course, between procuring choice lumber - all select pine - cutting, milling and planing the staves, scarphing, and laminating the mast, there are probably more than 50 man hours invested so far. So not as quick, but worth it if you have the time.

On a side note, the mast for the 24-foot Launch will be much larger and stouter than the Monomoy's - so that's something to look forward to (yikes!).

Of interest to the carpenter's crew - the fitting of the halyard sheave in the top of the mast is coming along - expect that to start soon. Parts are already spinning and chopping in the back - yes I can hear you back there and I know what you're up to. That's what I do.

BT

Side note - whoever is leaving coffee cups on my bench should know that I keep spilling boat soup in them. So no, that's not the coffee made badly, that's pine tar. Just sayin.

Will

Just in Time for Lunch- Low-Cost Provisioning Options

One of the recent items of debate being discussed by the Board of Directors are ways to reduce the cost of provisions. Providing participants with meals at events is a tricky thing - people have food allergies, and there isn't always time to cook a great meal when you're running between activities. That's why I find more of our members at the funnel cake stands than I care to admit publicly. But food gets expensive, and considering how much gets thrown away, I think its safe to say the operation is not as efficient as it could be. And we all know efficiency saves time, money, effort, frustration, grumbling... well, you get the picture.

As a dutiful Dockyard Superintendent I feel I should propose some sort of solution to the problem. And I have just the proposal for every one's needs. The Armour Corporation has been making top quality canned and preserved foods since 18-eh hem yeah. Their Pork Brains in Milk Gravy would be a delicious solution. Just open the can, pour contents into heating container, hold over heat source and five to ten minutes later - voila! The 5.5 oz cans are easily meted out at one serving per person per can, which means several days rations can be carried in a single haversack. The empty cans can be used to make miniature tin candle lanterns, paint pots or boat soup buckets. The residual aroma will add an extra bit of charm to whatever is done with them. This delicious food is available from any number of low grade supermarkets for less than $0.20 a can.

So go out and buy some - give it a try. I really do think it will be a great addition to our future programming.

Note, the dockyard will not be providing sickness bags. All issue gear must be returned in a condition that is free of stains or odors. All hands aboard watercraft experiencing symptoms of sickness are directed to the lee rail and should not loiter in bilges. Notify your petty officer if you experience discomfort, swelling, cramps, bleeding or gas with oily discharge. The Naval Heritage Society is not responsible for spoiled under garments.

Enjoy your lunch!

Will

Racing Stripes

I've just recieved approval for my paint plan for the Monomoy. We're going to be dolling her right up for the 2010 season. All interior wood work is being sanded down and re-varnished, new paint inside all around AND the addition of da dada DA- racing stripes! The plain white hull is getting a fresh jolt with the addition of a navy blue gunwale stripe and golden yellow pinstriping. Back in my days on the Training Ship Empire State, we had a white hull with a blue "racing stripe" on the bow. Of course, later on they painted the whole hull blue. But I've always loved that racing stripe and wanted to paint one on this boat. The colors pay homage to the Navy, and to the Military Sealift Command, whose famous blue and gold stack stripes are their primary distinguishing insignia.

The interior of the boat is being painted per 1907 US Navy regulations, famous for use by the Great White Fleet. The interior bulwarks will be "spar" - a khaki color - while the deck will be "blue-gray". The propulsion oars will likewise be painted spar, while the steering oar will remain varnished. The gunwales and steering yoke will be finished with boat soup - a pine tar mixture - that blackens and preserves the wood. Odd side note - recently visited the "Real Pirates" exhibit at Nauticus and several of the artifacts recovered from the sunken pirate ship Whydah still reek of pine tar! Now THAT is preservation!

The working schedule for all of this - for those who missed it - will be as follows:

March 27-28 - Interior stripping and varnishing - MAX. PARTICIPATION REQUIRED
April 10-11 - Painting of the "Racing Stripe"

Hope to see you there!
Will

By our powers combined...

If you know what that was from, you're probbably in your late 20s suddenly feeling kind of old. At any rate, I'm calling in the big guns on several projects that are clogging up my lofting bay. This Saturday and Sunday we'll have

1. the Mast & Spar Team setting up the lamination for the replacement Monomoy mast. I'm sick of kicking around your toothpicks, go make something large and impossibly lightweight out of them.

2. the Gunner's Mate and his crew finishing the axles for the 3 pdr carriage. Those chunks of oak are about to become keel blocks or heating elements for boat soup. Chop chop, fellas.

3. both teams are to supply at least two bodies each to grunt labor in the Monomoy prepping for new paint.

Lots of work to do before our April 2nd launch date. So come on out this weekend, and let's get 'er done!

Will

There's nothing like boat soup to start your Friday off right

Even as the Monomoy sits freezing and thawing on her trailer out in the weather, she speaks. Out on the water, you can tell the boat always wants to go fast, turns quicker if you ask her nicely and is one tough chick when it comes to those high breaking swells. But even sitting still on her trailer in Norfolk, her personality still shines through.

Now it might be an odd notion for a landsman to consider a boat as a living thing, but regardless of the method by which it is constructed, it is. The various little nuances in performance, durability and longevity that differ in boats of the same class are great reminders of this. She seems to respond to you, ever so subtly, and remind you that any seagoing venture is a partnership between sailors and their boat. Take care of her, and she'll take care of you. One hand for the ship and one for yourself. And so on and so forth. This is a recognized phenomenon among mariners, often discounted by the land-locked.

The Monomoy likes to remind me that she wants to go fast. The water dripping off her cover landed squarely on her trailer chocks, causing them to rot and crack when the water in them froze. This might seem ordinary for a winter of freezes and thaws, but there was no rhyme or reason to the flow of water to the chocks - on both sides; they arent under the lowest part of the sheer. The boat wants the chocks off.

This morning I treated her to a fresh bucket of boat soup - that odorous concoction of pine tar, linseed oil, turpentine, beeswax, japan dryer and tung oil. It's an age old mixture for which there are literally hundreds of recipies (all using more or less the same ingredients) that is proven to prevent rot, mildew, mold and keep water out of just about any solid substance. We apply it regularly to the Monomoy's teak gunwales, which are more than 60 years old. The soup soaks in and darkens the wood, leaving it smelling perfectly 'salty'. Less than 10 minutes after the first coat, which is applied with a rag or a sponge, water beads are seen forming on what was (seemingly) perfectly dry wood - all of it moisture that had worked its way inside. When wiped down after three or four coats have exhausted the pot, the gunwales have a distincitve sheen unmatched by any modern finish. Repeat at regular intervals, and the Monomoy is one happy boat, and pretty too.

When the weather warms sufficiently we have new paint for her interior ready and waiting in stores. The coat of 'spar' we applied last November will be overpainted with at least two more, and the tank tops will be pressure washed and painted 'blue-gray'. All in all she'll look much better than her last dressing in International Orange. Her new mast - being manufactured in the bird's mouth technique - is waiting to be assembled, and her rigging is on the stretch in the rigging cage. All we need is warm weather.

So for now I'll keep lathering her up with boat soup every other week, airing her out on dry days and knocking the icicles off when it turns wet and cold. And of course, I still have four to six weeks of finger fight club left tabling and roping the sail.

Will

A few things that aren't as easy as they seem - no pun intended

Some time ago it was decided that sewing the single dipping lug sail for the Monomoy did not justify the expense of a canvas sewing machine. So for the last two weeks or so, I've been cutting out and seaming the panels by hand. I don't want to go into a whole dissertation about sailmaking, but I should mention a few good resources. Emiliano Marino's The Sailmaker's Apprentice has been very helpful in designing the sail and providing basic information about seaming and construction. Next your local sailmaker - in my case crazy Irishman Jerry Mullins. I invariably find nothing so useful as consulting a professional, for two important reasons 1) they provide a lot of common sense guidance on your specific project, and 2) there is now someone to laugh at you if you give up. Both are important when setting out to sew your first sail, and Jerry is an exceedingly splendid source of both requirements.

I did have a slight leg up in starting my first sail. Marino urges first time canvas workers to make a ditty bag by hand. Cool! Been there, done that! Back in school I made three or four, each of which served various uses from collapsible bucket that can be hidden under a coat (for use in pranks) to a stirrup (don't ask) to one that caught a friend's sea sickness in the South Atlantic. That bag I gave away as a gift soon after. But I do have some canvas working experience. And raiding my stores, sure enough, there were about half a dozen needles, my old roping palm and an ungodly huge ball of beeswax (where the hell was that when I was making boat soup last time?!). Work started in my living room in earnest, partially because the lofting bay is taken up by the molds of the 24-foot Launch and partly because this is my 'I'm feeling lazy' project. After all, most of my time doing it is spent sitting on my ass, listening to Mahler. It should be remarked, by the way, that Mahler or Brahms both provide great seaming music. Sibelius should not be attempted - you might find yourself skewering your hand on the needle intentionally if it's allowed to go on for too long. Just sayin'.

So now, after two weeks of stretching folded strips of canvas across my living room floor and sewing until my hands look like they belong on Ed Norton in Fight Club, the sail's panels are all one solid mass of folded canvas. In the next week I'm going to hijack a gymnasium somewhere so I can lay it all out and mark the perimeter, then start in on tabling and patching. All in all it will be some time before I attempt to show this work to anybody, lest they should figure out that I'm not having fights I can't talk about in my basement after midnight.

Will