Construction Log: Planking the boat - July to December, 1980

July 11, 1980:  First day of planking ...

How do you begin to plank a hull like Abrazo's?

The real answer is that long before you turn teen-aged, you develop an eye for shape.  You study wood-working in high school, and then as soon as you get out of the Coast Guard, you partner with a buddy to buy a repair-worthy wood boat of your own.*
Apprentice yourself to a Master Builder like Bill Modrell,** and then use the skill and knowledge you learn from him to generate plenty more skill and knowledge through the experience of working on Other People's boats.***

*Richard and his pal Rod Bergum paid something like $800 each for the schooner Sea Lark, back in 1967.  Designed by Bill Garden, Sea Lark had been built in 1949 by a school-teacher who had not taken good care of his boat.  Richard and Rod made some hasty repairs, including squirting a lot of pentachlorophenol at any suspect wood.  When they couldn't agree on how to proceed, Richard sold his interest in the boat to Rod, who used Sea Lark as a rendezvous for entertaining girlfriends.
In 1969, Rod offered to sell the boat back to Richard, who had been savings his money to pay tuition at Simon Fraser University, having completed two years at Seattle Community College.  He'd been accepted at SFU, and intended to study Poli Sci and Anthropology there.

Ah, the Big Y's in a life!  "Two roads diverged in a wood ... "

**Richard turned the tuition money over to Rod and took possession of Sea Lark.  Living aboard the boat, moored on the Duwamish, he thought maybe he could sail the boat north to Vancouver BC, moor it on Pitt Lake, and live aboard while attending classes at SFU.  Meanwhile, he focused his mind and remaining money on making Sea Lark sound again.  He hired Bill Modrell to replace some bad planks, and watched every move Modrell made.

Schooner Sea Lark at Tripple and Everett Marine Ways on the Duwamish River

***Richard worked at Delta Marine Industries, and sometimes at Tripple and Everett Marine, taking off in the summers to sail Sea Lark around the Sound, especially to Port Townsend where vast amounts of practice turned him into a real sailor.
By 1974, accompanied by Marilyn from Everett, who was ready to matriculate at Western Washington University, he sailed to Bellingham, taking up residence at Squalicum Harbor. On the Commercial dock, fishermen always needed a shipwright to help with repairs or renovations.  Richard soon connected with Rauma Roy, out of Ketchikan.   At first, they did some drastic rescue work, so Roy could fish another season.

Then, over the winter of 1975-76, Richard replaced quite a few frames and planks in the troller, F/V Rauma.

Return to 1980:

If you start with lots of experience, making planks will be so easy!  As the planking of Abrazo's hull progressed, Richard was often able to spile, cut and fit one full strake, i.e. the full length on both sides of the hull, in a day.  

Domestic Diversion:

Before I try to be "Be more specific" about the planking process, let me draw a picture of our domestic situation that summer of 1980.

When Bill and Kay Modrell left Bellingham at the end of June, we knew they would be returning for another consultation session in a few weeks.  I enjoyed "getting back to normal" after their visit, but on July Fourth I sat at my desk in our apartment above the Saw Shop.  For some months I had been writing about local politics for The Citizen Voice, and earning a few dollars doing garden work for various homeowners, while also "helping" in the shop with boat-building chores.  On this night, while Missy, the landlord's dog crouched at my feet fearful of the fireworks, I felt homesick for Pennsylvania where my Dad always hosted a big party on the Fourth.  I scribbled in my journal:  "So much boat building goes on beyond me, and I haven't jumped back in.  I'm not dancing to the boat project like I did at the beginning.  Well, it will come.  I need to keep my own projects rolling."  

July 11:  Richard's Brother Bob, visiting from Boise, Idaho drove up from Seattle with their father, Hank Baila, and Bob's eleven-year old son, Robbie, to stay the night with us.  Intense family dynamics mixed with plenty of family pride in the progress on the boat.  

Manuel Campos' letter, answering R's questions about expanding the sail area, etc. arrived.  We needed help to understand it, and I'm the one who took the letter to a Spanish teacher named Mercedes for a translation.  She knew her Spanish, but not necessarily the "nautiguese" that made Manuel's letters so challenging.  

July 20, the Modrells returned, and again on the 26th.  I think they joined us briefly while visiting relatives in Whatcom County.  

Friends and acquaintances often stopped by the shop to check on boat-building progress.  Peter Fromm, skipper of S/V Uwilla and devoted photographer, captured this moment:  

By the end of August, Richard had logged 290 hours on the planking job:  

  

Planking:  

Following are some of the specifics about how he made those planks.  Note that these "specifics" are not going to translate a decade of wood-working experience into plain English.  Spatial perception is a huge challenge for this Scribe.  Please search the World Wide Web for plenty more info on spiling a plank!  

According to Richard, "Once the battens defining the ram lines are in place, measuring for the planks is really quite simple."

Let's lay out the plank that fits above the garboard plank, for instance.  To make his spiling batten, Richard used plywood strips, 1/4" thick, about 2" wide; the length of each batten piece depended on how many frames (or how much curve) it could span without edge setting.  The lengths are tacked or glued together, laying in a fair line flat against the frames, until the whole batten is long enough to reach the length of the lumber piece.  

Next he used one of his spiling gauges.  These are 1, 2, or 3-inch square pieces of steel with a 1/4" lip bent at one edge.  At each frame, rest the lipped edge of the gauge against the top of the garboard plank where it meets the frame, and use a pencil to mark the opposite edge of the gauge on the spiling batten.

Transfer these marks to the piece of lumber that will become the next plank by reversing the process:  with the spiling batten tacked to the plank, use the gauge to mark the bottom edge of the plank.  Connect those marks, drawing a fair line with another batten, and run the plank through the band saw on that line.  You have to remember here that the line you've drawn is on the outside face of the plank, while the measurements you took are for the inside face of the plank.  Bevels are involved, usually only a couple of degrees for Abrazo's planks.  Richard measured bevels with a home-made "bevel cadge" and marked them on the spiling batten.  His band saw has a tilt-feature that allowed him to approximate the required bevel.  He could fair the saw-cut edge with a hand plane.  

He used Boston Brain Sticks to get the measurements that define the upper edge of that plank.  

Boston Brain Sticks are fairly stiff but bendable oak battens marked with special dividing lines.  When used to "measure the hole you need to fill," the brain stick automatically divides the space into the number of planks you want and allows you to read the width of a plank at every frame.   

Brain Stick at left is a #8, at right a #4.

Looking at the space between the top of the garboard plank and the ram line that marks the bilge, we find the space is 32" at the widest point.  Knowing we want to use 8" wide lumber, we divide 32 by 8 to get 4 planks/strakes to fill that area.  Using the #4 Boston Brain Stick, rest one end on top of the garboard plank and bend the brain stick against the frame to the point where it meets the ram line.  Read the measurement directly and record it on the spiling batten.

Repeat this process at each of the 44 frames, and then transfer the measurements from the spiling batten to the plank.  Richard used a pair of dividers, set to the recorded measurement at each frame, to mark the upper edge of the plank with a puncture point.  Then he could connect the puncture points with a fair line and saw the edge.  This time, he had turned the plank over, so his saw line was marked on the inside face of the plank.  Adjust your spatial perceptions to understand how the bevels go!

Here's another aspect of plank-making:  Richard's work bench was equipped with a big notch built on the surface at one end.  He could jam one end of his plank into the notch, edge up, and then the run along the length of that upright edge with his hand plane was easy, as was the turning of the plank to smooth the other edge.

Depending on how much bend the plank would need to endure, Richard sometimes used his "backing-out plane" to shape the interior face of the plank (the faying surface) for a perfect fit against the frames.
Also, of course, a single strake often required two planks to fill stem to stern.  The butt ends of these planks had to meet and match at an appropriate location in the strake ... not too close to a butting in the next strake up or down.

Fastening:  

Shaped, beveled, and backed out where necessary, the plank was ready to be fastened to the frames.  Richard used 316 stainless steel screws, 2 1/2" long with square-drive heads, custom made by Seattle's Alaska Copper and Brass Company.  Thanks to our friend Jean Williams, who worked at her wheel and kiln shaping and glazing pottery, we found a source for lead carbonate to make the white lead used to coat each screw.

Many years later, at the Classic Wood Boat Festival in Victoria, BC, Richard learned that Abrazo  could not qualify as a "classic" boat because her fastenings were not of silicon bronze.  That kind of discrimination seems a bit snobbish to practical types like us.  Abrazo's fastenings have weathered the years very well.

Her yellow cedar planks have weathered well, too, though Richard recalls his fisherman buddy, Rauma Roy, pronouncing that he would never have a boat planked in Alaska yellow cedar.  Maybe Roy considered yellow cedar too "soft" to last underwater?  Regarding the quality of any wood, however, so much depends on cell-structure.  "Old growth" or even "second-growth" wood that has been air-dried under clean conditions for a sufficient time maintains the integrity of its cell structure; while the same material dried in kilns has had every cell exploded as the moisture inside the cell boils in the heat. 
Richard had purchased the majority of his yellow cedar wood pile back in 1974, after Tripple and Everett Marine closed down.  Who knows when Warren Everett had procured that lumber, but it was mostly clear, clean and properly air-dried for a good long time.  The fact is that once Abrazo's hull was fully planked and ready for paint, later on in 1981, Bellingham painter Alan Slade put his moisture meter on the wood and declared it drier than he thought possible for marine construction.  Less than 6% moisture!

Okay, back to fastening those planks to the frames:  smear dolphinite (also known as ickumpucky) on each frame to seal the faying surface, then secure the plank into place with C-clamps.  Fasten with staiinless steel screws dipped in white lead, and set about a quarter-inch below the surface of the wood.  When there were two planks in the strake, Richard fastened their ends into butt blocks, usually between frames so there was plenty of room for screws.  He liked to bevel the top of the butt block to prevent moisture from settling there; and for the same reason, he liked to float the butt blocks between frames rather than fitting them tight against frames.

Once the strake is filled with securely-fastened planking, it's time to do the same strake on the other side of the hull.  Richard learned not to rely on using the same spiling batten for the other side, but to make fresh measurements.  He also shifted from upper to lower strakes so as to be less likely to build in any unevenness or error.

More Domestic Details: 

In early September we made another tour of area boatyards on our way to Port Townsend for the Wooden Boat Festival.  Richard, Guemes Kenny, Dave Hartford, and a man named Vic had shared the bathtubs each used to melt lead for their various keels; so naturally they enjoyed critiquing each other's construction work.  From Richard's point of view, others often did things the hard way.  One guy, for instance, stood the backbone upright before shaping the forefoot.  Holding the tool is more work that way than if you do the shaping while the wood is on the bench.  Another guy's shallow rabbet would mean extra planing of the planks; while a third builder had already attached his un-beveled transom to the keel, when he should have worked the bevels first.  In Edison, the deeply-sour scent of pea silage camouflaged any whiff of pine tar.  In Anacortes, at the Winged Palm Sail Loft, Malcolm's "Take your shoes off" sign hung above a rug displaying three satin high-heeled shoes, two red and one silver.  

In Port Townsend we visited Carol Hasse and Nora Petrich at their Sail Systers' Loft, and talked with a rigger named Brian.  We camped on Steve and Lisa Snapp's lawn one night, after feasting with them on oysters and salmon.  Steve introduced us to Edward Abbey''s wonderful novel, The Monkey Wrench Gang.  Lisa introduced her friend Sharon, who turned out to be from Graterford, Pennsylvania, just a few miles downstream on the Perkiomen River from where I grew up!  Can't explain why, but that Port Townsend miracle made me feel I was in the right place, after all.  

After the Boat Fest we drove to Dryden, on the east side of the Cascades, to spend a few days butchering, wrapping, and freezing the pig Steve and Mary Sickles had raised for us.  Back then, we still thought meat was the best way to get protein for strength.  

Returned to Bellingham, Richard began installing Abrazo's four permanent bulkheads.  Made of 3/4" fir marine plywood, these bulkheads, about six feet apart, define the fore and aft ends of the main salon, and the fore and aft ends of the foc'sle berth.  

Deck blocking included a large mast partner to span the width of the boat.  Sea Lark had such a mast partner, and Richard wanted the same strength and stability for Abrazo.  (photo shows the varnished mast partner in 2016.)

Richard also built breast hooks and additional blocking for the anchor winch and curved cockpit.  

During this same time he was milling fir for Abrazo's decking.  He and David Hartford shared a truckload of 2" x 5" fir from Summit Timber Co. of Arlington.  The wood had been cut for Nord Doors Inc. of Everett, but a glitch in the order allowed Baila and Hartford to buy the load.  

Richard had his 2" thick pieces re-sawn into thicknesses of 1 1/2" and 1/2".  He split the thicker pieces into 2 1/4" x 1 1/4" net for the decking.  he split the thinner pieces into 2 1/4" x 1/2" to be planed down for ceiling strips to sheath the inside of the hull.  

Varnished fir ceiling strips in Abrazo's main cabin, 2016, along with a laminated hanging knee.

On September 21 I spent two-plus hours in the shop helping Richard move two very heavy fir cants onto his pick-up truck.  These were giants, 12" x 14" Doug fir bodies, 20 feet long.  On that unforgettable day, I realized that this man had surely been a pyramid builder in a former life.  Using levers and rollers we maneuvered those big cants out of the shop wood pile and outside toward the truck.  Then, using levers, rollers, blocks and wedges we ratcheted one heavy chunk of wood up onto standing rollers, and from there onto a long, strong ramp till we could push it onto the rack that reached over the pick-up truck's cab.  Inch by inch, roller by roller, balancing against gravity.  Repeat for the second cant.  Richard drove them to the re-saw to be sliced into planks for Abrazo's cabin sides, among other things.  

Other People wanted boat work done at this time, too.  In mid-September, Fisherman Steve Tibbits hired Richard for a wood-work project on his gillnetter, F/V Arc Angel.  Steve Mayo, skipper of the M/V Skua, needed artful repairs in October; and someone at the Cap Sante Marina in La Connor required four planks.  I helped one day by "tailing" while Richard planed oak for David Syre's Edgemoor construction project.  That job generated a lot of sawdust, which reminds me:  along with building Abrazo and all those jobs for Other People, we constantly worked at recycling the never-ending sawdust.  Sometimes Andy Koch, experimenting with ecological composting at WWU, would come for sawdust.  Sometimes we delivered garbage sacks full to friends.  Often we spread sawdust on the paths in our own garden plot on the south side of the Saw Shop building.  

Meanwhile, besides writing, gardening, and tailing, I'd had some work as a substitute teacher in local secondary schools.  On September 24, I was called in to sub for an English teacher at Sehome High, and it soon became apparent that he was not likely to return to his job.  What an opportunity!  However, I had promised to spend three weeks in West Seattle caring for Bill Modrell while Kay went on a longed-for pilgrimage to The Holy Land.  Immersed in studying Macbeth for the sophomore classes, and Composition for the juniors, and stretching to connect with boat-building in ANY way while teaching full time and gardening after school a couple days a week, I agonized.  But that commitment to the Modrells was my best contribution to boat-building during this planking phase.  And Sehome's principal, Mr. Player, assured me I'd be welcomed back to subbing after that commitment was met.  

Richard and I made a lumber purchase and sale expedition just before I moved to Modrell's.  October 11, we caught the ferry to Guemes Island to deliver fir to Dave, then we met Warren Everett at his reserve lumber storage den in Seattle, where Richard bought more yellow cedar.  We visited Hardwoods, Inc, and then Sea Land Shipping, exchanging lots of cash along the way.    

I moved to Bill Modrell's home just in time to watch a mammoth fist of Mt St  Helens' ash hurtling toward Seattle through the sky.  We had ash masks, just in case, but that October 17-18 explosion made a visual display without polluting our air.
Over the next three weeks I listened to a thousand hours of Bill's stories, and worked with him on outlining a book about his experience.  With the help of my Seattle friends, Will and Lydia, I got him out for a pub concert one evening.  On another day, I drove him in his van to the harbor in Des Moines, and wheeled him down the docks till we found the Keelitan, the sailboat Bill had built at Jimmy Chambers' Edison Boat School back in 1938.  

Richard and his buddy Walden, meanwhile, hunted deer on Shaw Island and reported they'd each killed a buck ... more meat in the freezer.  

When Kay returned, I moved back to Bellingham to work at sanding and painting the inside face of the deck planks, and to sand and varnish Abrazo's deck beams.  There was also the never-ending job of cutting plugs out of scrap yellow cedar at the drill press ... in preparation for covering the fastenings in Abrazo's planks.  Richard had hired our friend Shayla McGranahan to work at these tasks while I was teaching school; she'd continued during my time with Modrell.  Thank you, Shayla!  

Richard was back at planking Abrazo by mid-November, while his father, Hank, stayed with us in the apartment above the Saw Shop.  Hank's heart condition was fragile, and that Thanksgiving week was so very cold that he bought an electric blanket so as to endure his stay in Bellingham.  

December 3:  We swept Abrazo's tarp of a 2 1/2 " accumulation of snow.  Much more snow fell before the next morning.  

A few more details with no apparent connection to boat-building:  

December 8, we drove Hank south to meet with Bruno and Evelyn Betti on their farm near Sea Tac.  Influenced by Hank's beloved companion, Lura Lu Radford, we'd purchased "half a beef" from her old friends, the Bettis.  We were privileged to wrap that beef with the Betti gang at their butcher shop.  There is so much to learn about how to wrap beef!  Connect with old-school professionals whenever you can.  Evelyn Betti talked about her mother, Mrs. Hill, who was born in a cabin, and delivered by her grandfather while the wolves howled outside.  

December 9, we drove to a certain TV studio in NorthVancouver, BC with our friends, Jay and Marianne.  I had an opportunity to Make A Deal with Monty Hall.  Marianne had inspired my costume.  Dressed as Mt St Helens, I held a big sign announcing "I'd Lava to Make You a Deal."  I probably should have kissed Mr. Hall, as I was advised to do during the pre-show pep talk, but I was too restrained.  When Monty asked my phone number, I was able to tell him ... and then when he asked me to "prove it," Marianne shouted from the audience:  "Your checkbook, Susan!"  So, that's why Monty Hall gave me $120 Canadian dollars.  It was enough to cover the feast we enjoyed at a Vietnamese restaurant on Vancouver's Pender Street before returning home.  

Ah, the drama!  Not to be distracted, Richard completed the planking work before Christmas, having logged 493 hours on the job over the course of six months.  

We spent the end of year holidays with my family in Pennsylvania, returning to the West Coast by train on Canada's Via Rail from Toronto to Vancouver, BC.  

The Whiskey Plank

On January 10, 1981, we celebrated with friends, including Bill and Kay Modrell by holding a "Whiskey Plank" Party.  Whether Richard had actually held off on installing the final plank until this day of celebration, we can't remember.  But I'm sure plenty of whiskey was consumed along with all the congratulations! We still had a long way to go, but we hoped to move aboard the new boat before the end of 1981.