Designer's Notebook: FLASHBOAT — A LIVELY 15-FOOTER

Story and photos by Paul Gartside

Soon after moving to this area about 18 months ago, I found myself living just a couple of hundred yards from the beautiful sheltered water which lies on the east side of Vancouver Island's Saanich Peninsula.

The need for a boat was dire, and there was considerable doodling of vessels which might suit the time and budget available. The situation was complicated somewhat by the busy road which separated the house from the water's edge. It seemed to me, though, that with a light enough boat and a good sense of timing, it shouldn't present an obstacle.

Plywood construction seemed the best way to go both for light weight and because I already knew how powerful the sun is in these parts during the summer, and could foresee problems with a planked boat kept on wheels by the house, even if there was time to build one.

The difficulty with plywood is to get a good enough shape without cutting it into such small pieces that conventional planking would have

®1985 The Center for Wooden Boats - Volume 7, Number 2- March-April 1985 - 25¢

been as quick and cheaper. In Cornwall in Southwestern England there is a

class of 18' racing skiffs which use a form of stressed plywood construction. In section they are extremely, slack, almost a straight V. The weight of four oarsmen and a cox is the ballast they need for stability. I wondered whether I could find a shape which could be built this way, which would have sufficient stability for a single rower. The lines show the second boat of this model. It differs very little from the prototype in the photo­graphs.

For the first experiment we used 1/8" mahogany doorskin plywood for planking, and gave the hull an overlay of light scrim cloth to keep the water out of the end grain. Plywood this thin is like wallpaper, limp, and with no apparent impact resistance, but when it's forced into a compound curve, it's extraordinary how much stiffness it develops. The hull is planked in four wide strakes glued and fastened with temporary staples into the grid of plywood web frames and stringers. The eight foot pieces were scarfed in place, but it's probably easier to make single lengths first. It is essential to fair the stringers carefully before starting the planking. The point to remember is that between the frames the bevel of the stringers is all that holds the planks in the round bilge shape. There is no difficulty at all in bending the thin plywood to the framework, but a little care is needed to avoid unfairnesses, particularly hard spots of the frames.

For our second boat we're using 4mm Brunzeel plywood and will leave the glass sheathing off. The prototype weighs 120 pounds. With luck, the second will be 10-15 pounds lighter.

On paper this looks like a tender boat, and it is. But stability increases with load, so there's no anxiety about carrying a passenger, and with three aboard she's like the club tender. We use the boat mostly with two, taking turns at the oars. We find no difficulty passing each other to swap places — none of the antics the canoeists indulge in. It's the single oarsman who must get accus­tomed to a lively feel, and balance is very impor­tant just as in a shell. It's surprising how quickly

one gets used to it, and the prize is a fast boat. The combination of light weight and narrow waterline beam is hard to beat for speed. We weren't aiming for a racing boat, but in local races last summer she proved competitive and I think would make a good club racer. She's quick and cheap to build and has a variety of possible rowing combinations. She can be rowed single or double, or even with three in the combination called a Ran-Dan — a single oar bow and stern and a pair amidships — that would really make her go.

For social rowing there's a removable stern seat with rudder and yoke, and mostly we use ours this way. We've had one season's use from her and are taking her out during the winter on fine weekends. So far our doorskins are holding together and the light planking has resisted the abuse we've given it. There is an aluminum keel band, and if the boat wasn't raced a pair of oak bilge rubbers would be sensible.

The main thing is to avoid the glancing blow. In the event of unavoidable collision, go for head on impact and leave everything to the lawyers. •

(Editor's note: For details on Flashboat plans, contact Paul Gartside, 10173 Rest haven Drive, Sidney, B.C. Phone 604-656-2048.)

CALENDAR OF EVENTS

Sat. and Sun., Feb. 23-March 24 A D U L T ROWING A T G R E E N L A K E

The City Parks & Recreation Dept. offers another series of 10 sessions on Green Lake. Intermediate rowers practice from 8-10a.m., with beginners learning from 10 a.m. to noon. A float test is required. $30 for 10 sessions. Intermediates will prepare for a March 30 regatta on the lake. Call 625-4671 for details.

Saturday, March 2 M U S E U M OF S E A & SHIPS Pier 59

Susan Donnelly will talk about "Shipwrecks of

the Northwest" from 2 to 3 p.m.; call 628-0860 for details.

Wednesday, March 6 B I G - B A N D / W O O D E N - B O A T B A S H 6-10 p.m., Rainier Brewery

Next on C W B ' s fund-raising schedule will be a big-band party featuring The Tempos, a 16-piece swing band. ( C W B member Dennis Broderson, organizing the event, is one of the saxophonists who will dazzle and delight us and set our toes tapping in the Rainier Room at Rainier Brewery.) Cost will be $10 per couple, or $5 for individuals. Beer and snacks are free. For ticket reservations or information, call Dennis at 767-5677.

Friday, March 15 C W B M O N T H L Y M E E T I N G 8 p.m., Waterway #4

Steve Philipp is a retired boatbuilder who has lived all his life among the Tulalip Indians. "Cedar Culture" is the title of the talk Steve will give with his canoe and longhouse models as visual aids. We will learn of the life of the Puget Sound natives before white settlement. Sunday, March 24 SPRING R E G A T T A & L A P S T R A K E D I N G H Y L A U N C H I N G Noon, Waterway #4

Our semi-annual wooden boat party. Races for rowing and sailing boats, boat sharing, and pot­luck lunch, featuring a pasta salad cook-off. The launching of the 12' sailing dinghy built by the Simon Watts lapstrake workshop will start the festivities.

Friday, April 19 C W B M O N T H L Y M E E T I N G 8 p.m., Waterway #4

Vern Grandy will tell the story of the Grandy Boatworks of Lake Union. Vern will talk of the boatshop tricks he learned, colorful boatshop characters, interesting designs he built and interesting designers and clients.

July 5-7 S E A T T L E W O O D E N B O A T S H O W Naval Reserve Base & Waterway #4

Our annual extravaganza at the south end of Lake Union—the largest wooden-boat show in the West.

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July 27-28 P O U L S B O B O A T R E N D E Z V O U S Poulsbo Waterfront

Third annual gathering of the salty little inboard launches built for years in Poulsbo by Ronald Young and other builders. Included will be another big swap meet and sale of marine gear, tools, boats and miscellaneous. Also a daily parade and free rides around the waterfront in Poulsbo Boats. For details, call Marty Loken, 782-2324 eves. •

'85 SEMINAR SERIES CONTINUES—SIGN UP WHILE THERE'S STILL TIME!

The 1985 C W B seminars continue this month with the classes described below. (Some were held in January; others are already filled to capacity.)

If you would like to sign up for any of the classes, we might suggest a preliminary call to the C W B (382-BOAT), just in case your session has now been filled.

Al l classes will be held at the C W B Boatshop, 1010 Valley Street, except the forging workshop which will be at Seaforge, 722 South Monroe, Seattle.

Prepayment is required, except in the lapstrake and plywood-boat workshops, for which a $100 deposit is required.

Saturday, March 2 METALLURGY - Prof. Paul Ford 10 a.m.-3 p.m.

No class size limit. Kinds and properties of alloys. Heat treatment for ferrous and non-ferrous metals. Information that will help in subsequent casting and forging seminars. Members, $12; non-members, $14.

Saturdays, March 9, 16 S A N D C A S T I N G - Prof. Paul Ford 10 a.m.-4 p.m.

Limited to 12 students. Students will gain basic foundry information in the first session and will cast simple forms. The second session will involve more complex casting, possibly Davis type rowlocks for our lapstrake workshop boat, and other boat hardware. Members, $35; non-members, $40.

Monday through Saturday, March 11-23 (Sunday, March 17, off) L A P S T R A K E W O R K S H O P - Simon Watts 8:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m.

Limited to 8 students. Students will build a 12' lapstrake sailing dinghy and will sail it on Sunday, March 24. This is an intensive session that will get the student ready to build his own lapstrake

boat. Basic woodworking skills are required. Students should bring their kit of basic boatshop hand tools. Members, $550; non-members, $600.

Saturday, March 30 I N V E S T M E N T C A S T I N G - Prof. Paul Ford 10 a.m.-4 p.m.

Limited to 12 students. Learn the "lost wax" method of casting delicate details, and do it. Members, $15; non-members, $17.

Saturday, April 13 F O R G I N G Grant Sarver 10 a.m.-3 p.m.

Limited to 12 students. Basic hands-on black­smithing. Students will make at least one tool.

Gloves and materials are provided. Members, $15; non-members, $17.

Saturdays and Sundays, April 13 & 14, 20 & 21, 27 & 28 and May 4 & 5. P L Y W O O D B O A T W O R K S H O P -Rich Kolin 10 a.m.-6 p.m.

Limited to 8 students. Students will loft and set up a 10' plywood sailing skiff, build and launch the boat in four successive weekends. Everyone keeps his own lofting. Basic woodworking skills required. Members, $275; non-members $300.

Saturdays, May 11 & 18 L A P S T R A K E REPAIR - Eric Hvalsoe 10 a.m.-5 p.m.

Limited to 6 students. Students will replace steambent frames, replace planks, scarf in new planks, and refasten with rivets, clench nails, and screws. The patient will be one of C W B ' s exhibit boats. Basic woodworking skills are required. Members, $50; non-members, $55.

Saturdays and Sundays, May 25 & 26 and June 1 & 2 REFINISHING - Mary Ford 10 a.m.-5 p.m.

Limited to 6 students. Students will learn how to restore a weather-blotched and paint-sick boat to showroom perfection. This involves alternative ways of stripping old finish, of painting and of varnishing. Members, $100; non-members, $110.

July 15-27 (Sun., July 21 off) L A P S T R A K E W O R K S H O P 8:30 a.m. • 5:30 p.m. daily

Eric Hvalsoe of Valso Boats joins students in building a 15-foot lapstrake dinghy. . . to be sailed during a July 28 launching party. This is an intensive session, limited to 8 students, that will prepare participants to build their own lapstrake boats. Basic woodworking skills are required. Students should bring their kit of basic boatshop hand tools. C W B members, $550; non-members, $600.

CWB-SPONSORED SCHOONER CRUISES ON THE SOUND The Center for Wooden Boats will host the

gaff-rigged schooner Sophia Christina for a series of excursion cruises over the Memoriai Day weekend (May 25, 26 and 27).

Patterned after the 1876 East Coast pilot schooners, designed by naval architect Ted Brewer and built by .Freya Boatworks of Ana­cortes in 1982, the Sophia/Christina is 46 feet on deck, 60 feet overall. She is operated by a licensed captain and is fully U . S . C . G , documented for charter operation.

The excursion cruises will be $27 per person per day, including a full luncheon of fresh hot clam chowder prepared by Alice's Catering. The meals will include a vegetable tray, hot sourdough french bread and butter, and coffee.

Daily trips will leave the Shilshole Marina guest dock at 10 a.m. and will last about 7 hours, during which time guests may help in sailing trie vessel.

Passenger space will be limited to 14 people per day, so we're asking interested parties to fill out the form below and enclose a check covering 50% of the fare. This will insure a spot on this beautiful vessel, and will let C W B know how many people to plan for. This offer is available only to C W B members and their guests. Children under 12 will be admitted free, but must be accompanied by their parents.

WOODEN BOATS IN A WORLD OF SYNTHETICS The Center for Wooden Boats once again

participated in the colossal Seattle Boat Show, an extravaganza held each January in the King­dome. It is an event, as you might suspect, thoroughly dominated by the latest in nautical Formica.

Our display booth was designed by T o m Parker and built by Courtney Smith. The booth was set up by Dennis Broderson, Eric Hvalsoe and Tom Parker.

The backdrop, an old boatshop wall, was

painted by John Harris. During the show, Eric Hvalsoe built a 9-1/2-foot lapstrake pram based on a Rana design. Tom Parker carved the new billethead of the schooner Wawona.

The Boat Show featured a few other exhibitors related to wood and/or maritime history, includ­ing the Wooden Boat Shop, boatbuilder Sam Devlin, Flounder Bay Boat Lumber, the Museum of Sea and Ships and Nexus Boats. There may have been others, but they were obscured in a sea of tub toys.

GREAT PAINTERS I HAVE KNOWN

By Chas Dowd

As Spring approaches, I recall one of the first letters my bro sent to our parents after joining the U S N : "Dear M o m and Dad (it went), I enlisted in the Navy because I was always impressed by how clean and tidy the ships were. Today I learned how they stay that way." Some time later, he sent me a poem which the Chief who taught it to him claimed dated back to Elizabethan times:

"Six days shalt thou labor and do all that thou are able, A n d on the seventh scrape the bilges and overhaul the cable."

A lot of people are convinced that wooden boat owners are myopic, hopeless dreamers, retreat­ing from the harsh bustle of the day-to-day into a world of make-believe. Far lot they know. Actually a wooden boat is one of the great expounders of The Reality Principle. To para­phrase the aged saw about old and bold sailors, there may be old sailors and there may be dreamy, impractical sailors who neglect main­tenance, but there are no old dreamy, impractical sailors who neglect maintenance. I remember a long evening gam with Capt. Amos G. Narwhal aboard his ancient ketch, the Whited Sepulchre.

" A l l boats have rot in em," said salty Amos G. "Not mine," I replied cheerfully, "it's brand new

this year." Old Amos rolled a parchment-yellow eye at me

and growled, "Well, then, it's got a helluva lot of potential rot in it."

Actually, I think we're still rot-free aboard The Lady Deb, probably because Stroke Oar and I paint her every year. In fact, with an open rowboat that's about all the maintenance re­quired.

In painting, I have an impressive mentor, Mrs. Sonderquist. She was one of those tall, severe Scandinavian fisherman's widows who seem eternal and unchanging. Every year about mid-May she would repair to her detached garage and start pulling out an amazing collection of ladders, boxes, sawhorses, planks and kitchen chairs. These she would arrange around her two-bedroom cottage in an unvarying pattern to make a ramshackle scaffold. Then she would carefully spend the entire summer repainting her house.

She kept her paint in the kitchen and slowly poured from the gallon can into a small china teacup. Then she'd climb onto her scaffolding and apply the paint, cupful by cupful, with a two-inch sash brush. Al l summer long she painted, from sunrise to sunset.

In the first week of September, Mrs . Sonder­quist spread the last loving brushful on the trim of her kitchen porch and began the task of carrying all her equipment back into the garage. Then she would sit in her front window and watch the rain fall until mid-May. Neighbors said she'd "never been the same since Lars disappeared." Mr . Buckley, who lived across the street from Mrs. S., and who never painted anything, was less charitable, saying she was "dotty as a measles case" or "nutty as a Mars bar." Then one day the entire neighborhood was drawn outside by a roar like a buffalo giving birth to a porcupine. We were treated to the spectacle of M r . Buckley wading toward his front door, up to his waist in the rotted remains of his porch. Mrs. Sonderquist knew what she knew.

Painting appeals to the tiny streak of tidiness in me. I've always been able to keep tidy impulses under control, except in painting. For example, there is a clean pair of pants on the floor as I write

this. They would upset Stroke Oar as a blot of messiness. I'm content that they're clean. If they were dirty, I'd be glad to throw them in the laundry bag. I think. But clean pants just aren't a mess.

I thought I was tidy painter until I met Hunsaker — the only person I know who covers his drop-cloths with spread newspapers. His paint buckets have held everything from pine tar to red lead and still look as fresh as if they were from a Swiss dairy. He paints wearing a venerable but impec­cable Harris tweed jacket and chinos.

Hunsacker is engaged in a lifelong feud with Ambrose, another boatowner and champion tidy painter. One year Ambrose tried to exchange a paintbrush because its bristles were wearing down. The manager believed his story about its being a Christmas gift and unused. . . or would have if the company which made it hadn't gone out of business 30 years earlier.

Anyway, Hunsacker and Ambrose are locked in some kind of tidiness mano-a-mano, each trying to find some sign on the other that he has been painting. Four years ago Ambrose crept up behind Hunsacker in church and nearly strangled him trying to tear open his shirt collar because a spy (yes, they both have fanatic adherents) said he'd seen a fleck of Commodore Blue on Hunsacker's shoulder in the yacht club shower. When Ambrose fell from a gangway during last year's painting and broke his arm, Hunsacker burst into his hospital room and tried to break open Ambrose's still-warm cast, claiming there was a smear of Sea Mist Green on his elbow. When restrained by two interns, Hunsacker then claimed that he could see Mid-ochre Deck Paint under Ambrose's fingernails. Actually, he claimed he could see signs that Ambrose had cleaned Mid-ochre Deck Paint from under his fingernails.

I dread this year. Yesterday I got a whispered phone call from Ambrose. It seems he read a Hint from Heloise that suggested scratching a bar of soap with one's nails to halt paint buildup beneath them. He regards this as a Sign, an earnest of victory in this strange contest. His repeated chant of "you're doomed, Hunsacker, doomed," didn't upset me, but there was a nasty edge to his cackling laughter that was clear, even through a General Telephone circuit. I dread this year. •

Small-Boat Beach Camping AROUND CAPE SCOTT: ONE STROKE AT A TIME

Story and photos by Archie Conn

Sailors often dream winter dreams of blue water cruisers and distant adventures. The best dreams involve sailing the whole way 'round something.. . the w o r l d . . . the Pacific . . . Vashon Island. A proper circumnavigation loops you back to the envy and amazement of your friends, or even better, your enemies. But dreams not realized go sour, like uncorked wine, so the trick is to circumnavigate something close enough to be achievable, and wild enough to be amazing.

Cape Scott seemed like a suitable objective for a small-scale circumnavigation by open boat. Hooking out into the North Pacific as the north­west outrider of Vancouver Island, the Cape is wild enough to curl your insurance broker's hair, but surrounded by white sand beaches, the very image of safety and repose. Chris Cunningham, friend and builder of my 18-foot Swampscott dory, joined me as Captain in an expedition to row around the North Island in August.

We made our approach to the Cape by way of Vancouver Island Highway 19, hauling the dory on a trailer behind a pickup load of gear. From the Nanaimo ferry dock, the route heads north­west through resorts and campgrounds, giving the option of a comfortable overnight stay. The paved road ends at Port Hardy, some 450 miles north of Seattle. Above Campbell River the highway swings inland through the North Island forests, beautiful and remote. Good trailer bearings are a comfort here, since there are no services available until Port Hardy, a fishing, logging, mining community.

Loading the dory at the inner harbor launch ramp took almost 2 hours of careful packing. Twenty-one days of supplies, sleeping bags, a large tent, personal gear, galley box and camera equipment were stowed. We double checked all safety and boat gear, oars, signal kit, anchor and rode, compass, life jackets, charts and tide tables. After some final fussing about to waterproof and

trim the load, we heaved the dory into the bay, parked the trailer and settled onto the thwarts. For the duration of the expedition, we were dependent on the gear around us and the motive power of four oars.

The first 200 strokes into the bay warmed up the muscles that would drive us on our planned circumnavigation. Riding the ebb up Goletas Channel, we expected to hug the north shore of Vancouver Island out to the Cape. From there, weather permitting, we planned to row down the West Coast in two legs and return to Coal Harbor and Port Hardy via Quatsino Sound. Allowing two weeks to pull 120 miles, we had a safety

margin of 7 to 10 days to wait out the nasty Southeasters that batter this coast. By the second 200 strokes we settled into our rain gear and a cruising pace of 3 knots. The steady fine mist and gathering dark took the edge off the day, but we resigned ourselves to a 9-mile row to the nearest camp. As our dream expedition became slowly waterlogged, we began to wonder why grown men do these things.

After a hot meal and a night's rest in an aban-doned store, we were ready to tackle the rain and 15 miles for day two. No self respecting North-westerner can really quit because of a little rain, we reasoned, so we reloaded the dory and rowed over to a fishing boat for a V H F weather check. The fishermen were gracious enough to praise our boat without really questioning our sanity. Sipping hot coffee, we listened to a rather dreary weather report before shoving off for Bull Harbor.

The easy comradeship of the wilderness is one of the delights of these adventures. On an empty sea, any boat sighted is a potential friend, so we rowed in close to two boats anchored in Loquillilla Cove. Bob, a hand-logger, hailed us, offering hot tea and homemade lemon cookies. Not being fools we stopped for a chat, swapping him a dory ride for his hospitality. Bob's admiration for our little wooden cruiser warmed our hearts as we exchanged stories about our lives. By now we were fully loaded with carbohydrates and good feelings, so we shook hands all around and pulled away into the ebb tide.

At Jepther Point, our course headed out into Queen Charlotte Sound. On our right, the North Coast alternated rocky headlands with stone and coarse sand beaches. Over our left shoul­ders, the Sound stretched flat and gray to the Queen Charlotte Islands, 90 miles beyond our horizon. We rowed steadily, close inshore to catch favorable eddies and draw encouragement from our progress along the beach. In Bull Harbor, we shared a leaky old float house with the mice and oil drums, resting less than 10 hours before resuming our travel.

A hard pull with a 2-foot beam sea carried us across the Nahwitti Bar to the Tatnall Reefs. Three days of intermittent rain and wind driven chop were beginning to wear down the oarsmen. At 500 strokes per mile, more with a foul tide, the monotonous regularity of rowing 100 miles made itself felt in our shoulders and especially in our butts. The ischial bones are the main bearings of the rowing engine, and I, for one, was suffering from bearing fatigue. With nearly 4,000 miles of muscle powered travel in his log, Chris was always ready to push on. Five miles further along we sighted a trio of deserted logging shacks lined up along the Nahwitti River mouth. They prom­ised secure shelter from the black bear we saw along the river. On closer inspection we dis­covered a wood stove, spring beds and a table to cook on. Even Chris was willing to declare a rest stop at this rustic resort.

A blue sky morning gave us the energy to press on for the Cape. Working off a breakfast of home

fries and cheese omelets, we stroked past Cape Sutil. The second growth forests are rich with wild life here. Eagles, loons, ravens and black bear watched us glide by with only a rhythmic thump-thump of oarlocks. At each headland, sea lions barked at us for disturbing their naps afloat. Away from their raucous arf-arfing we would occa­sionally hear small blackfish blow and watch a black fin roll into the water like an old tire awash.

A following breeze brought more rain, but pushed us along easily with a makeshift Tomy tarp sail lashed to a pair of oars. By late afternoon, Cape Scott emerged through the grayness of a driving rain. More comforting, a row of brightly colored tents dotted the broad, white sand beach at Nels Bight. Drawn by the prospect of human contact and the opportunity to show off our arrival at this remote spot by boat, we stroked a powerful 32 cadence into the bay, ready for dinner and a warm bag.

Our slack tide for rounding Cape Scott came at 3 p.m. on August 16th. Soggy and bedraggled, we reloaded the dory, lashing gear in against the possibility of overfalls and tide rips on the Pacific side of the rocks. The rain hammered down the wind, so we set off in a low swell, both of us wound up tight with apprehension. A herd of sea lions guarding the brown rocks of the Cape startled us. Barking angrily, they watched with heads thrust up out of the water, but didn't give chase. We pulled hard, partly from anxiety, partly from a determination to get this pitch over with quickly. An hour of hard rowing against a growing head wind left my back muscles burning, but brought us into the relative safety of Guise Bay. The boat scraped to a stop on the sand and we brewed up a pot of tea to calm our nerves.

Now on the ocean coast of the Cape, we reviewed our position. The rounding was easy enough, 5 miles through kelp beds and around rocks awash in the swell. If it had been the San Juans, it would have been a snap. But out here, with a rising onshore breeze we felt lucky to have made it just in the nick of time. A 2 kilometer trip to the lighthouse confirmed our fears. The light­house keeper's radio reported winds of 28 gusting to 40 out of the South. Now we were in for it.

Setting up camp in the dark in half a gale is something the Boy Scouts never taught me. After emptying the boat, we hauled it onto the beach logs well above high tide. A gust flattened the tent as I watched, too stupefied with the wind and fatigue to react. Chris immediately set out to erect a wind break, dragging 10' timbers up the beach at a jog. Huddled under flapping tarps, 1 fired up the Primus to cook sweet and sour shrimp washed down with cocoa. A few minutes later we crawled into sleeping bags and dropped into sleep like stones, disturbed only by a flapping rain fly. The sheer high tech comfort possible in these conditions still amazes me.

The Southeaster blew for 2 days. We explored the Cape, sighting Peregrine falcons, and passed a delightful afternoon with Jerry and Shelly at the lighthouse, talking about boats, eating rhubarb pie and drinking coffee. Being buffeted about by the wind driven spray and rain greatly increased my respect for the Kwakiutl and Danish settlers who once lived on this coast. Remaining cheerful and warm in this environment was work enough with freeze-dried food, nylon and Hollofil. To imagine hunting and gathering, or growing a living in this sodden wilderness made me weary. The unchanging weather service reports for light NE winds and sun became grimly amusing against the sounds of a steady rain and surf on the beach. The storm had slowed, then reversed the momen­tum of our trip, and by the third day we resolved to turn back.

Turning away from a destination chosen in the comfort of a warm living room is never easy, but

often necessary. Balancing discretion against valor, we decided to return in the lee of the Island. As Chris said, "If this is a contest with Mother nature, Arch , she's gonna win sooner or later."

There were two routes home. One back around the Cape in a leftover sea, the other what canoeists casually call a portage, a third of a mile across a hayfield. Removing the floor boards and all gear, we grunted the dory over the brow of the beach. Once in the wet grass, the 250-pound boat skidded along easily, so we kedged her up the hill and down to Experiment Bight. We had circumnavigated Cape Scott and could head home.

Of course, the sun burst through the clouds and the wind died. I briefly considered dragging the whole mess back again, but thoughts of Joanne, my son, Tyler, and bottles of beer steadied me. We couldn't resist a swim and bath in the surf before setting out. Vastly refreshed by being warm and, miraculously, clean, Chris and I pulled for home. Just at sundown we bumped ashore at the Nahwitti Resort, as we called the old logging shacks.

Over cocoa the next morning, we replayed the trip. Though failing to circle the North Island as planned, we had rounded the Cape and would log 100 miles by Port Hardy. The dory performed admirably. Easy to row, dry and seaworthy, it had carried gear enough for real comfort and safety. To the great satisfaction of both owner and builder, the boat generated enthusiastic appreciation whenever we landed. The weather had humbled me and taught me to better prepare psychologically for my next expedition. Chris, having learned this lesson several times before, decided the next trip would include a real sail and more snacks.

Calculating the value of our trip on a pleasure units per dollar scale, I figure we had a better wilderness adventure than 98% of the blue water cruisers in Puget Sound. If you're still dreaming of a 35' Flying Whatnot at $60,000 without sails, you might consider the other end of the scale. As Hal Roth reminds us, "Better a small trip to paradise, than no trip at all." •

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SHORT STROKES If you're building a boat or boatbuilding tools

and you're looking for a good source of metal, you might investigate a company called Metal Shorts, 1248 Sixth Avenue South, Seattle; phone 382-0305. Metal Shorts is described as a supermarket of metals, with remnant pieces of mild steel, cold finished, alloys, tool steels, aluminum, stainless, brass and bronzed—in bars, plates, sheets and tubes. Products are indoors and separated in racks so you can find what you need in a hurry. Hours are 8-5:30 Monday-Friday, and 8-noon on Saturdays. . . We are looking for bed-and-breakfast situations for C W B visitors and out-of-town seminar students. If you have offers or questions, please call 3 8 2 - B O A T . . . Trying to stay in shape this winter? According to the Journal of the American Medical Association, researchers have tested participants in a variety of recreational/fitness activities. Rowers were in better shape than all o thers . . . During these winter months all sorts of attention has been paid to our boatshop stove. This Danish-built Lange is an excellent heat source, and because of its oven and cooking top it should be great for baking bread or other goodies. We'd like to use the thing for cooking, but need some advice and recipes. Please send any information you might have on cooking with wood stoves—or just recipes. W e l l try some out and perhaps publish the results in a future edition. •

CRUISE ON THE ADVENTURESS If you have dreamed of being an "old salt" but

thought those days were gone forever, this opportunity is for you! From March 24 through 30th, the Experimental College will offer a large-

ship sailing course on the Adventuress, a classic 101-foot wooden schooner. During a voyage to the San Juan Islands and back, you will learn basic seamanship and a bit about the ecology of the San Juans.

Be prepared for a "hands-on" experience — this is not a pampering pleasure cruise. Accom­modations on board consist of the classic sailor's

bunk and simple but hearty meals. Bring clothing for warm days of sunshine as well as for days of biting winds.

The cost is $299 for the seven days, all meals included. For more information, contact the

Experimental College at 543-4375, 309 H U B , Univ. of Wash., Seattle, 98195 or phone Mitch Poling at 524-9706. •

RECENT DONATIONS New bandsaw motor, George Kuchenbacher;

installation of motor, Charlie Mastro; shop wiring, Bud Keith; boat plans, Texas Dory Co . ; pine tar and latigo leather, Paul LaBerge; work stool and doormats, George Corley; cameras, Lon Israel; bilge cleaner, North Coast Chemical C o . ; paint and Polaroid camera, Rowland Messer; slide screen, Paul Belch; Universal engine, Hobart Thompson; books, Phil Thiel, Philip Simpson and David Barnes.

Thanks also to the following volunteers for tasks accomplished:

Shingling of oarhouse roof, Betsy Shedd and Dennis Broderson; moving Willits launch away from pavilion foundation site, Bill Higgins, Marty Gauthier, Ray Miller, Richard Mollette, Bill Van Vlack, Dennis Broderson and Tom Parker; pavilion construction sign, Dennis Broderson; boats pumped, Tim Livingston, Fletcher Brock, Eric Hvalsoe and Horace Ingram; firewood split and cut, Horace Ingram; assistance on pavilion foundation form, Horace Ingram; shop electrical outlets, Bud Keith; library maintenance, Kelly Mulford; oars leathered, Fletcher Brock; thwart knee and supports for C W B ' s Sharpie, Andy Wichert and Paul Kubilis; Sharpie floorboards re-oiled, Paul Kubilis; replacement of Rana chain-plate, Hiller West; replacement of other Rana chainplate, along with section of rub rail, Steve White; volunteer Fleet Maintenance Corps supervision, Andy Wichert; Host Program partic­ipation, Norman Foster, Charlie Mastro, Brian Bonicamp and Pat Lane, •

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