Sailing, Sailing
Designing the "Swabbie"
A Fall Paddle through the Cape Marsh
Our Windsprint Sailing Odyssey
Ergonomically-Correct Oars
LaHave Islands to Halifax by Kayak
The Boat Shed

Sailing, Sailing
by Ryerson Clark

SWBANS has many excellent Watermen (waterpersons?).  This is an old term used to describe someone who was at home in many different types of boats, large and small.  The Waterman could tell the weather by "smell" and the look of sky and water, could sail, row, anchor, navigate and build a boat and fit it out for a trip.  They knew the tides and it's affects on their craft while underway and at anchor or dockside.  Mostly, they knew the wind and how to use it.

Several of our Watermen have expressed an interest in promoting more Sailors in our organization,  and many members have been hinting they want to learn.  Be advised we have no certification, nor will we be giving any.  We will just be friends helping friends.

We have put three or four (so far) sailboats together for a Saturday or Sunday (date to be decided) in the later spring of 2003.  Our plan is to put the beginners on the boats and sail all the craft to somewhere like Ives Cove, McNabs Island,  for lunch.  New sailors will learn hands on how to get to their destination by playing the tides and wind, how to anchor when they arrive and how to get the boat tidied up for lunch.  We will then exchange the new sailors for a few hours of practice so they get to try different boats and we will meet once again to trade back for the sail home (the boats will be coming from different "ports" so to speak around the harbour)

All the boats will be between 15 and 20 feet, a very good size to learn in.  Because of the size of course, the number of people will be limited, so it will be first come first served.  Serious people and beginners only please.  You can have had a little experience and still be a beginner.

If interested please call me and I will start the list.

To Top

Within a few years the membership had grown in numbers and, having individually and collectively built numerous boats, gained considerable confidence in their boatbuilding skills. This is in no small part attributable to Gerry Gladwin of Whynot Boats who, with infinite patience and cheerful optimism, has shown our members that with plywood, epoxy, patience, and perseverance they can build elegant and seaworthy small craft.  The multitude of Volkskayaks built by SWBANS members are testimony to Gerry’s skills as a teacher and each kayak owner’s newfound skills. With all of this boatbuilding experience now residing within the Association, I felt that it was time to resurrect the concept of a club boat, but with the modification of intent that it be a boat built and owned by individual members but of a common design for the Association.

There are several benefits to this proposal. If several members build to the same design at roughly the same time, there may be savings realized from being able to buy materials in larger quantities. As the number of boats built increases, the accrued knowledge of the construction process within the membership will grow, enabling neophytes to draw upon the specific experience of those who have already built their boat. Finally, if several boats are completed, SWBANS will be able to have it’s own class of races at the annual Mahone Bay Wooden Boat Festival. This last aspect I think should have prime emphasis – if SWBANS is a regionally based organization, shouldn’t they be visibly promoting designs done by and for Nova Scotians? I think so, and hope that our friends and members from other regions will help to propagate the club boat by building one in their home area.

Apparently, the iron was sufficiently warm for the strike, because when I proposed this modified idea for a club boat to the executive of SWBANS in the fall of 2001, the idea was quickly placed on the agenda of the next meeting where it happily received warm support by the members.

I was then faced with the problem of defining the parameters of the boat to be designed. How long should it be? How wide? Cabin? Full keel or centreboarder? There was also the fundamental question of whether to create a design that I felt would be the proper boat for the membership’s use, or to solicit the organization to specify the boat? It was pretty easy to see that if it was to be a club boat, the club should have some say in what it was to be, and the easiest way to get their input was to create questionnaire for them to individually specify what was the “right” boat. Everybody gets a chance to select their ideal boat, and in true democratic form, the majority would win.

I happily received many responses to the questionnaires. I must admit that I was somewhat surprised at the general trend of the replies; I had expected a majority of you would prefer a fuller, more voluminous hull capable of having a small cuddy with vee-berth and port-a-potty, but apparently most of you just want to go fast and to hell with creature comforts! I guess that this proves that if one presumes to know what the public wants, one is bound to be shown as wrong. No matter; the client had spoken, so it is my job to create the boat that the client wants.

I felt that it was important that the boat have features or characteristics that were indicative of its origins. To that end I drew the bow profile and sheer to be reminiscent of the beautiful one-design club boat by Bill Roue, the Bluenose class sloop. To make the boat easy to build, as requested by the majority of the survey responders, I decided upon a double-chine, stitch-and-tape plywood hull. A roomy, deep cockpit is incorporated to enable several friends to join in on the fun of a day on the water, as well as to provide enough room to stretch out in a sleeping bag for an occasional overnight stay at a quiet mooring. Wide side decks with sweeping washboards will provide protection from shipping water when heeled over in a blow, and a substantial foredeck will allow plenty of dry space below to stow a picnic cooler and camping gear. For propulsion, I selected a high-peaked gaff sloop rig for its’ ease of construction and salty, traditional looks. With these specifics in hand, I set about drawing the general arrangement that you see here.

I have tentatively named this design the “Swabbie”, a play on words with the acronym of the organization she is designed for. Although she is designed for the home builder, she is definitely not a clumsy or slow boat. With her high sail area-to-displacement ratio of  (?), she should move well in light airs and charge forward in stiffer breezes. The ability to put a deep reef in the main to de-power the rig to make thinks a bit more manageable when the breeze kicks up. With her moderately high length-to-beam ratio of (?) she will be easily driven, and flat buttocks on a broad shallow-vee hullform will encourage planing off-wind.

I drew the lines of the hull to feature a fine entry, a firm bilge to ensure sail-carrying ability, and a bit of rocker in her rabbet to make her nimble when tacking. She has moderate initial stability, making her feel a bit tender when sitting upright, but as you can see from her righting moment curve below, she stiffens  up considerably as she approaches 15 degrees of heel, where she will benefit most from the planing effects of her broad, flat buttocks. She will be able to take a heel of over 60 degrees before she is at risk of downflooding, a situation that one hopes the prudent sailor will not knowingly allow to happen.  Floatation foam fixed to the underside of the side decks, in the lazarette, and under the foredeck will provide positive buoyancy should she happen to take a spill. With a few go-fast goodies such as a NACA-foil centerboard and rudder and a 120% genoa, she should show more that a few boats with “modern” rigs that traditional looks and rigs don’t mean slow!

A Fall Paddle through the Cape Marsh
by Laura Brown

At dusk on a crisp Saturday in late September, I hopped into my kayak and paddled out into the widest opening of the marsh and waited for my friend, Patrick, to launch. We were setting out on a journey to explore a new tributary of a salt-water marsh near West Barnstable, Massachusetts, which is in the middle of Cape Cod and on the north shore. I was looking forward to a sunset cruise and a favorable tide that was just nearing high point. We’d have the help of the current to take us out into the marsh, and then we planned to come back just as the tide turned.

My journey to the Cape began with an early rise in Boston, and then a drive for an hour and a half to the home of my friends Paul and Nancy. Patrick met me there, and we began to make plans for our kayaking adventure. The winds were strong that morning so we decided to wait a little bit to see if the weather would calm down. In the meantime, we drove to a local restaurant overlooking the ocean and had lunch and enjoyed watching the high waves from behind the protection of a glass wall along the back of the restaurant. After lunch, we still weren’t thrilled about the paddling conditions so we returned to my friend’s house and caught the last part of a movie.

Finally, toward the end of the day, all seemed to be right. We loaded the kayaks into the back of Patrick’s truck and drove several miles to the put-in site in the marsh.

We had a beautiful paddle through the marsh for several hours. The birds were particularly active catching fish that were coming in with the tide. And the bigger fish were active chasing smaller fish, who broke the surface of the water every so often on all sides of my kayak.

We turned our kayaks down one of the smaller tributaries and followed it through to the end. As it narrowed, there was hardly room to stick my paddle in the water. The reeds of the marsh closed in on me, and soon I was pulling on them, rather than paddling, to try and propel me forward. At this point, we noticed dozens of very small fish that had died and were floating belly-up in the water. We speculated about their fate, but in the end we didn’t really know why there were so many victims in this particular area.

With the tributary so narrow we couldn’t move forward, we decided to back our kayaks out until we could turn ourselves around, and then began the journey back to the beginning. The return trip was stunningly beautiful. The sun was setting and cast a golden glow across the tops of the green marsh grasses. The sky was a vivid blue and turning to rich shades of purple, red, and pink radiating from the sun. As we rode the out-going tide home, we passed a few fellow kayakers. The stripers were running so a few fishermen were also out trying to make a catch.

When I reached the put-in area, I took a few minutes in my kayak to watch the sun fall below the horizon. Then Patrick and I beached our kayaks, stepped out onto the sandy shore of the marsh, and loaded up the truck for the trip back to my friends’ home. We ended the day by stopping at the local pizza shop, picking up a large pizza, and sharing it over a leisurely outdoor meal with Paul, Nancy, Patrick, and myself.

To Top

Our Windsprint Sailing Odyssey
By David and Faye Young

Faye and I wanted to share our experience sailing our windsprint sailboat, Lucy’s, in this last summer’s Mahone Bay Wooden Boat Festival. It was a full, rich experience ranging from exhilaration and enjoyment to downright frustration, toil and exacerbation. Here is our story.

Our boat, Lucy’s (nee “Yellowtail”), was purchased by Faye from Ryerson and Anne four years ago. Yellowtail was built and raced by Ryerson and Anne in 1994 and one year they raced her to victory in the 1996 Wooden Boat Festival.  Lucy’s, named after Faye’s Newfoundland dog Lucy, was sailed by Nick Jennery and Faye during three years’ Festival events (missing the races in 2001). When Faye and I pulled the boat out from storage this past spring, Lucy’s was a sight for sore eyes. The rudder was broken from a collision with a light schooner in the 2000 races, seams were open, rot had set in and plywood on the forward and aft decks was delaminated. Don Ives helped haul Lucy’s in his pickup to Howard and Donna’s place at Stonehurst (now referred to as “Ray’s Wharf and Boatworks”). The Ray’s yard appeared littered with windsprints, including Donna and Howard’s “Blue Magic”, Anne and Ryerson’s “Loon” and Ken Lamb and Katherine Sharpe’s, Dragonfly”) which were stored there for pre-race sea trials. We knew we were in for trouble when Howard announced to us that after rains he did not have to bail Lucy’s because it was self-bailing, unlike the other windsprints. It took several weeks of work off and on to repair wood rot, add new wood pieces, caulk seams, apply layers of fiberglass cloth and epoxy, and to finish off with several coats of paint. With much knowledgeable help from Don and Howard and with only a week before racetime, Lucy’s was put in the water for her successful water trials. Faye and I had hoped for more time to sail before the races as I had no experience in sailing windsprints and Faye was admittedly rusty after not having raced for two years. But, at last, Lucy’s was ready to race.

The first race of the Wooden Boat Festival was blustery and windy. Faye and I were the first boat to leave shore as we wanted to get some experience with sailing the boat before racetime.  I was at the rudder and Faye was forward handling ballast control. Because I thought the boat would point into the wind better than conditions would allow, we got caught broadside with a trawler moored adjacent to and closest to the dingy dock where we had started. The more we struggled to escape the grip of wind and tide against the trawler, the further Lucy’s gunwales sank until water poured in sinking her.  Thus freed from the trawler we were able to push away, lower the sail, and drift downwind. The forward and aft compartments kept Lucy’s afloat, with no more than and inch or so to spare, and I found that I could steer the semi-submerged boat with the rudder away from other boats and out of the crowded harbor. With Faye already bailing, we refused the kind help of Howard and Donna, who motored out to help in their dinghy. By trading off with the chore of bailing, we drifted close to the downwind leg of the racecourse by the time we could raise the sail and tack back to the starting line. We were close to the starting line when we heard the gun signaling the start of the race. We were definitely last, but at least we were in the race! It was our intention to complete the racecourse and make up as much time as we could.

We were in the next to the last leg of the race when Faye and I heard an ominous creaking noise.  Then, without further warning, the mast footing gave way and the mast slanted to leeward.  We managed to move the footing back to the center of the boat, but with each tack the mast slipped further until we feared structural damage. Finally defeated, we called for the rescue boat to take us in. Although we did not finish the race, we were pleased that we could survive a sinking and still regain control of the boat on our own.

The next two days were met with frustrating shoreside repair of Lucy’s. After an overnight repair using wooden braces and a quick-setting cement purchased from a local hardware store, we entered the first race of the second day, but had to abandon the race after the mast footing slipped again after attempting some pre-race tacks. Upon removing the wooden brace of the footing, we found that the cement had not set. We knew that we could not depend upon quick-fix solutions to solve the problem. At the Yacht Shop in Lunenburg, we purchased Innotech Marine Adhesive, which turned out to be an ideal cement for application with seawater-soaked wood. We cleaned the wood footing and applied the adhesive for drying overnight. At this point, Faye and I had spent more time on shore making repairs than sailing and joked that we would have better entered into the “Fast and Furious Race”.

On the morning of the third raceday, Howard Ray informed us that over discussions at the Mug and Anchor Pub he had found out the wood braces running along the bottom to reinforce the thin quarter inch plywood of windsprints were affixed on 13.5 inch centers.  Therefore, all I had to do was to position screws from the bottom knowing they were going into the wooden brace of the mast footing rather than blindly making holes where leakage would take place. Having done that we were finally able to enter the first race of the third day with a stable mast footing for Lucy’s.

Despite some leakage around the mast footing, we ended up making the required five races for the windsprint class and in the last two races managed to beat several other boats to the finish line. We were pleased with Lucy’s performance and will have her ready for the races in 2003 with a new, properly secured, mast footing. And, hopefully, we will have had more sailing experience by racetime. Watch out!

To Top

Ergonomically-Correct Oars
by Robert Fraser

Having developed and made many examples of an ergonomically correct kayak paddle;
I was approached by the coach of a local rowing club about being able to apply the handle arrangement to a sculling oar. The apparent disadvantage was that it would be impossible to feather the blade on the return stroke. To remedy this shortfall I designed and built a self-feathering blade arrangement.

Most oar and paddle handles have a one-piece handle that is grasped by one or two hands so that when the handle is in front of the operators body the hands can be considered to be horizontally placed. When making a stroke with the oar/paddle it is necessary that the operators wrists flex in a manner that is not entirely natural to the construction of the joints of the wrists. Many rowers/paddlers like to be able to rotate their blade as much as 90 degrees from
the vertical position on the return portion of a paddling/rowing cycle so that the blade of the oar/ paddle does not obstruct as much air. This feathering action becomes more necessary in competition where the speeds are greater. In order to  rotate a handle to obtain the feathering action with a kayak paddle one of the operators hands has to release its' grip on the handle and the other hand has
to rotate the paddle handle; with an oar both hands are used to twist the oar handle/s. These actions put further strain and fatigue on an operators wrists and
do not allow a full embodiment of the operators physical resources to the pulling and pushing of the oar or paddle.

An improvement to an oar/paddle handle is to incorporate a split shaft handle that has individual handgrips placed between the upper and lower portions of the handle which allow the hands and wrists to operate in a more ergonomically correct manner than with a single shaft handle. With this split shaft handle arrangement it is not possible to rotate the handle of an oar/paddle in order to feather the blade on the return stroke. The use of a self-feathering blade on an oar/paddle eliminates this deficiency. The benefit of this innovation is that it allows the rower/paddler to use the more ergonomically correct hand arrangement while still maintaining the advantages of a feathered blade.

The Innovation: Reference figures
#1 -Oar to be used as part of a set by one
operator
#2 -Oar to be used singly by an operator
#3 -Kayak paddle to be used by one operator
#4 -Cross section of the blade above

The hinged blade: the blade has upper and lower shaft portions (A) which have the rigid structure necessary to transmit forces back to an oar lock or paddler without bending or breaking. The ends of the split shaft portions are secured together in a rigid alignment by a brace (F). The majority of the blade surface is made up of a flat piece of material (D) secured by a hinge (E) to the lower element of the framework. The arrangement, as seen in cross section in figure #4 allows the center blade section (D) to fall backward on the return portion in the cycle of a stroke and thus be less resistant to the passage of the blade through the air.

Sequence of the cycle of a paddle/rowing stroke: as a blade is lowered into the water at the start of the power portion of a stroke the water pushes the center blade section (D) up and forward against the framework (A) of the blade. The blade is then a closed, cup shaped section which resists the movement of the blade structure through the water. The blade surface is held closed to the framework by water pressure during the power stroke. At the end of the power portion of the stroke cycle the blade is raised out of the water; at the start of the return portion of the stroke the action of the blade passing through the air will cause the blade surface at (D) to fall backward (the feathered position) minimizing the resistance of the passage of the blade through air.

This is repeated on each full cycle of a paddle or oar stroke without the operator having to twist or turn the handle of the oar or paddle as has traditionally been done to feather the blade.

The development of these oars and paddles proceeded quickly with prototypes being made out of laminated wood and plywood. One kayak paddle constructed for leisurely paddling proved to be rather noisy; two paddles constructed more on a racing style with a different hinge structure than outlined worked well but have been found to catch the water before closing on occasion. The first hinges were of a poly vinyl chloride material which proved quite satisfactory and have not broken. Later hinges have been made out of 1/4" stainless steel rod set into machined nylon sockets with the blades fastened to the rods using fiberglass and epoxy.

The first prototype oar made was 10' long. This was shown to two rowing clubs and then a set of four 12' oars were made in order to be tried on a boat. The major problem with them was that it was difficult to lift the blades clear of the water on the return stroke. The rowers like them in that they can obtain a more powerful
stroke because of the handle arrangement. The next set made was two oars to be used by a single operator. The split shaft handle was not used on these two because on a racing single a rower crosses their hands on the return stroke and the split shaft handles would be too high to accomplish this. The
rowers found it more diffucult to maintain their balance with these oars than with
standard oars due to not being able to skim the water as easily on the return stroke.

As of the end of September (01) six oars were still being evaluated by the Halifax
Rowing Club.

I have been granted a Canadian 'Patent ^Pending (#2,337,299) for this invention.

To Top

LaHave Islands to Halifax by Kayak
by Chris Bennett

In the dead of winter, I came up with the idea of a week-long trip along the South shore. We would head toward Halifax from the LaHave islands to take advantage of the prevailing westerly winds. The total distance, final destination, and the route could all be adjusted based on weather and mood. Of all my nautical friends, the only person foolhardy enough to join me was Fraser Howell.

The launch day of May 18 promised to be extremely wet, so we delayed our start to the 19th. Despite an early morning flat tire, I met Fraser at the Bush Island government jetty close to the agreed-upon time. After lugging a week’s worth of supplies across a weed-covered slipway, we turned our bows toward Cape LaHave Island. Foxes and willets foraged on the mud flats as we paddled up the thin gut on the west side of Cape Bay. The wind had risen to around 20 knots and we were glad to stop for lunch protected from a strong fetch across Green Bay. After lunch we paddled for the east side of the island and our destination of Halibut Head. An uneasy swell and light surf made a challenge of the approach to the beaches north of Halibut Head, but we landed without incident and set up camp. The area was riddled with deer trails and we saw half a dozen deer that evening.

The next day we paddled through the LaHave Islands chain, stopping to explore Middle Island. Unlike the inner islands that are linked by bridges to each other and the mainland, this island is isolated. As far as we could see, it is without electricity. One of the homes we came upon was a beautifully proportioned Cape Cod looking as it must have 100 years ago. A nearby boat shed was crammed with classic wooden boats including a rugged tarred lapstrake boat that must have been older than living memory. After a short paddle north of the LaHave islands, I left Fraser at the Bush Island jetty and turned toward Mosher Island and the crossing to Gaff Point.  This was a bit nerve wracking because it put me far enough from shore that if I capsized, there would be little chance of survival. However the heavily loaded boat proved to be amazingly stable and I soon relaxed.

Gaff point is as spectacular from the sea as from the hiking trail that traverses this remote headland. Sea caves and fantastically colored rock formations contrast with the bright sand and surf of Hirtle Beach. Skirting the breaking shoals of Hell Point, I paddled into Kingsburg beach for lunch. Following a quick crossing of King’s bay I rounded Rose Point where the swell crashing on the rocks had raised a huge swath of foam. It was just like being in a huge bubble bath and after rounding the point I went back for a second go. Some hikers waved from the cliffs as I made a landing on the first available shingle beach. I camped on lot 108 of what appears to be an extensive subdivision of Rose Point. If you have a chance, visit this point before another development of monster homes makes it just another part of our concrete world.

The Ovens were the first item on the next day’s agenda. As with Gaff point, a visit by sea to the Ovens yields a complimentary perspective to the typical tourist’s view. Water dripped through hanging mosses and splashed into miniature rainbows as I edged the kayak’s bow into the mouths of these sea caves. I watched with fascination as the ocean fashioned a new cave – with each swell this blow hole swallowed a mouthful of sea and spewed it forth with an intestinal roar. Jets of spume reach a dozen feet into the air.

It is a couple of miles from the Ovens to Blue Rocks and on this passage, porpoises surprised me by arcing out of the water only a few dozen feet away. The Bluenose II appeared from Lunenburg Harbour under motor as I reached the little village of Blue Rocks. I threaded my way through peaceful weed-festooned channels - how different from a week or two earlier when the SWBANS folks paddled from Stonehurst into a near-gale! Blue herons fishing in the shallows blended so perfectly with the rocks that I usually spotted them only when they flew off at my approach.

Beyond Stonehurst lie the Hell Rackets. Literally hundreds of seals – adults and pups sunned themselves on ledges and rocks. The area was also packed with Lobster pots, buoys, and miles of yellow poly line. I was glad not to have a skeg or rudder to worry about. A number of islands are worth exploring here and I landed on Rake Island, named I would guess for its shape. After a quick snack, I crossed to Tancook Island through circling flocks of arctic terns and families of loons. A porpoise guided me into the harbour at Tancook and I landed here for lunch.

Unfortunately the local store and restaurant were closed so I was not able to replenish my water or grab a cooked meal. After a typical tinned sardine lunch, I asked the Tancook ferry captain for a weather forecast and he let me listen to his radio on the bridge of the ferry. Looking at my boat pulled up on the beach, the captain confided that he “would not be caught crossing the harbour in one of those things”. A small craft warning had been issued and he suggested I head home. I told him home was Halifax and that was what I was doing but the humour seemed to be lost on him.

The crossing from Tancook to the Blandford peninsula was a bit hair-raising. The wind was up and the shoal water around the Tancook Islands created a nasty chop. After half an hour of nervous paddling, I settled into a rhythm; the odd wave broke over the top of the kayak, but my new MEC skirt kept everything outside where it belonged. Rounding the tip of the peninsula, I made for Herring Cove. This is a sheltered inlet on the east side of the peninsula, guarded by surf and rocks. Once inside, all was calm and I paddled past a few cottages to the head of the inlet. I was very glad to find a sheltered harbour as the wind was getting uncomfortably strong. I pitched camp and hiked 5 miles into Blandford for dinner and a phone call home. On my return, the clouds that had been threatening for hours began to spit rain and a spectacular double rainbow could be seen across St. Margarets bay in the direction of Peggy’s Cove.

Up at dawn to watch the sun rise. Think of all those sunrises we miss by sleeping inside! I packed up early as the forecast called for 20 knot winds around noon. After paddling to SouthWest Island near Aspotogan, I crossed to Peggy’s Cove. The water was a bit rough and a confused swell made it difficult to relax. Nearing the lighthouse, a Minke whale broke the surface in the distance. A tracking aircraft flew low overhead and waggled its wings when I waved. I paddled into West Dover through seas made very choppy by the waves reflected from the cliffs. After a delicious lunch of fish and chips and a salad at Shaw’s Landing, I pushed on for Prospect and some of the roughest paddling of the trip. The reflecting waves, a good swell, and breaking waves from the 20 knot wind made things hectic and I was relieved to find refuge in the little harbour of Prospect. I decided to call it a day at Hearn island and after a short paddle pulled up on a glorious sand beach. The wind was now so strong that I had to find a sheltered spot for the tent as the regular camp is too exposed. I spent the rest of the day recovering from my longest day yet – about 20 miles. In the evening I explored Rogue’s Roost but found it empty save for a small open lobster boat hiding from the wind.

The next day I was on the water as the sun rose. The forecast called for strong winds in the afternoon and I was determined to be in Halifax when they came. I crossed Pennant bay and rounded the point with building seas. The run down to the Sambro channel was rough as usual (many a sailor has left their lunch on the Sambro ledges!) but presented no problems as long as I stayed offshore and away from the reflected wave chop. I rested on Inner Sambro Island and then ran down to Ketch Head and Chebucto Head. A strong Westerly wind made steering difficult and I had to sweep continuously with the left arm. It turned out later that I had loaded the water forward, causing the boat to be bow heavy - This turned her into a dandy weather vane! Hugging the shore from Chebucto Head to Herring Cove, I made the final crossing to Sandwich point and into the NorthWest Arm for a well deserved break on an island in Purcell’s cove. 20+ miles before lunch and I was damned hungry! The final few miles were a treat and I ended my cruise at Horseshoe Island an hour or two after noon.

A few things I learned – Big waves are not as much of a problem as cliff-reflected waves, shallow points, and shoaling water. Kraft dinner should not be cooked in sea water alone (suggest 1 part sea to 4 parts fresh). Next time I will rig a paddle tether – it nearly floated away a couple of times. I would also set up a way to do a self-rescue including a paddle float, deck attachments, sea sock (I have no bulkheads), and bailer/pump. All in all, it was a great experience and I look forward to doing something similar next year!

To Top

The Boatshed

With the cooler weather, a few members have started projects.

Howard and Donna Ray of Stonehurst are building a temporary work shed for a Nutshell pram they hope to get started.  I expect this will become the dinghy for the old 38 foot Cape Island fishing boat, Two Brothers,  they just bought.

Ross Pottie of Lawrencetown is strip building a  new 15 foot canoe in his basement.  "Bob's Special" is the design and it is a Bear mountain style boat.  Plans are available through the Lee Valley catalog.  At press time he has built all the molds and steamed the end pieces.

Ryerson and Anne have finished their boat shed, but this is for the storage of craft rather then building.

To Top

To Newsletter Index