a lot of catching up
After the first few weeks of orientation, the ten of us split into three teams for the next six weeks. One team stayed in the new workshop and each began building a skiff on their own. One team went to the sawmill and began turning logs into boards and beams. My team went to the restoration shop and worked on the Republican, a Marblehead gunning dory built in 1960:
It was not in bad shape, as these things go, but we had to do a lot of bunging and pegging holes where the screws had pulled out, refastening ribs, and doing other minor repairs. After all that, there was a lot of sanding, painting, sanding, and repainting.
It turned out beautifully, and we attended the launch party a few weeks ago, on a glorious, unseasonably warm day.
Taking advantage of the launch party, we brought along two of our own skiffs.
The shorter one was built by last year's apprentices, but the 11 1/2' one was built by us in our first two weeks of work. Eight of us were on hand to test her sea-worthiness.
On the Friday before Halloween, I was dropped off on Marsh Island and marooned there for the rest of the weekend. It was a wonderful, strange experience. I'm an introvert and so I find ways to carve out time alone wherever I am, but it's different from being truly alone on an island. I went for walks, and not even the tiniest part of my mind was occupied by thoughts like "okay, I have plenty of time, but I should be back at the cabin by 2 to meet up with everyone else." I had no schedule or obligations at all, other than keeping myself fed and warm. This meant my mind could wander to a degree that kind of disturbed me. I would stop and marvel at moss for 20 minutes. I found it so easy to get lost in my mind and I was struggling against it, paranoid that I was forgetting something crucial--that I'd forgotten to gather wood, or that I'd get caught out in the dark without a flashlight. I wonder if I'd stayed on the island longer, whether I would have come to more of a sense of peace about this. Anyway, I occupied myself by making Andy Goldsworthy-inspired rearrangements of twigs and moss and rosehips.
The next weekend, I returned to the same island with Saul and Adelle. It was an entirely different experience. We again went for walks and when we lost the trail we forged ahead through bogs and across fallen trees, rather than trying to retrace our steps. (There's no reason why I couldn't have done this on my own, as the island is quite small and it would be difficult to get seriously lost. But I didn't--the previous weekend when I came to a creepy forest of dead trees with no clear path, I turned back ). We collaborated on temporary art projects, collecting driftwood and berries to adorn a bleached seal skull, or passing a stick back and forth as we drew designs in the sand. Found tiny starfish clinging underneath the rocks at low tide. We took naps in the sun and read aloud to each other around the wood stove. We curled up together in the big bed and fell asleep while looking at the stars though the skylight and listening to the wind trying to make its way in.
After working in the restoration shop for three weeks, my team switched with the team at the sawmill, and we continued to work our way through the large pile of logs lying in the boatyard.
After learning to operate the Wood-Mizer, the job became monotonous, with just enough danger to keep us on our toes. Usually we were able to roll the logs up onto the sawmill with just three of us, using ropes and peevees, but for the larger logs we called in extra help. For the log pictured above, it took all of the apprentices pulling from one side of the sawmill, and a tractor pushing from the other side.
It felt great to finally get that thing up there, but milling it was almost more trouble than it was worth. It seems that this tree had been the community bulletin board for years, and we ruined three blades running into nails dating back up to 30 years. A lot of time was spent hacking chunks of the log out with a chainsaw.
Two weeks before Christmas break, we switched jobs again. I've been back in the new workshop, putting the finishing touches on the four skiffs that had been started six weeks prior. At this stage, there's a lot of fitting and detail work to be done, which I enjoy and am good at. One of my first jobs was to shape the little triangular pine wedges to fit into the breasthook on Adelle's boat. She had taken so much care with her boat that it was a pleasure to work on, but I also felt some pressure to meet her standards. Luckily, the breasthook (and the rest of the boat) came out beautifully.
I really love working with wood. Learning about the temperaments of different types of wood, grain direction, dryness, and knots. Sharpening the blade of a chisel or block plane and hearing that satisfyingly musical rip as it slices through the wood without chipping or tearing. Watching the character of the wood change as it gets sanded, scraped, oiled, waxed, or painted.
It was not in bad shape, as these things go, but we had to do a lot of bunging and pegging holes where the screws had pulled out, refastening ribs, and doing other minor repairs. After all that, there was a lot of sanding, painting, sanding, and repainting.
It turned out beautifully, and we attended the launch party a few weeks ago, on a glorious, unseasonably warm day.
Taking advantage of the launch party, we brought along two of our own skiffs.
The shorter one was built by last year's apprentices, but the 11 1/2' one was built by us in our first two weeks of work. Eight of us were on hand to test her sea-worthiness.
On the Friday before Halloween, I was dropped off on Marsh Island and marooned there for the rest of the weekend. It was a wonderful, strange experience. I'm an introvert and so I find ways to carve out time alone wherever I am, but it's different from being truly alone on an island. I went for walks, and not even the tiniest part of my mind was occupied by thoughts like "okay, I have plenty of time, but I should be back at the cabin by 2 to meet up with everyone else." I had no schedule or obligations at all, other than keeping myself fed and warm. This meant my mind could wander to a degree that kind of disturbed me. I would stop and marvel at moss for 20 minutes. I found it so easy to get lost in my mind and I was struggling against it, paranoid that I was forgetting something crucial--that I'd forgotten to gather wood, or that I'd get caught out in the dark without a flashlight. I wonder if I'd stayed on the island longer, whether I would have come to more of a sense of peace about this. Anyway, I occupied myself by making Andy Goldsworthy-inspired rearrangements of twigs and moss and rosehips.
The next weekend, I returned to the same island with Saul and Adelle. It was an entirely different experience. We again went for walks and when we lost the trail we forged ahead through bogs and across fallen trees, rather than trying to retrace our steps. (There's no reason why I couldn't have done this on my own, as the island is quite small and it would be difficult to get seriously lost. But I didn't--the previous weekend when I came to a creepy forest of dead trees with no clear path, I turned back ). We collaborated on temporary art projects, collecting driftwood and berries to adorn a bleached seal skull, or passing a stick back and forth as we drew designs in the sand. Found tiny starfish clinging underneath the rocks at low tide. We took naps in the sun and read aloud to each other around the wood stove. We curled up together in the big bed and fell asleep while looking at the stars though the skylight and listening to the wind trying to make its way in.
After working in the restoration shop for three weeks, my team switched with the team at the sawmill, and we continued to work our way through the large pile of logs lying in the boatyard.
After learning to operate the Wood-Mizer, the job became monotonous, with just enough danger to keep us on our toes. Usually we were able to roll the logs up onto the sawmill with just three of us, using ropes and peevees, but for the larger logs we called in extra help. For the log pictured above, it took all of the apprentices pulling from one side of the sawmill, and a tractor pushing from the other side.
It felt great to finally get that thing up there, but milling it was almost more trouble than it was worth. It seems that this tree had been the community bulletin board for years, and we ruined three blades running into nails dating back up to 30 years. A lot of time was spent hacking chunks of the log out with a chainsaw.
Two weeks before Christmas break, we switched jobs again. I've been back in the new workshop, putting the finishing touches on the four skiffs that had been started six weeks prior. At this stage, there's a lot of fitting and detail work to be done, which I enjoy and am good at. One of my first jobs was to shape the little triangular pine wedges to fit into the breasthook on Adelle's boat. She had taken so much care with her boat that it was a pleasure to work on, but I also felt some pressure to meet her standards. Luckily, the breasthook (and the rest of the boat) came out beautifully.
I really love working with wood. Learning about the temperaments of different types of wood, grain direction, dryness, and knots. Sharpening the blade of a chisel or block plane and hearing that satisfyingly musical rip as it slices through the wood without chipping or tearing. Watching the character of the wood change as it gets sanded, scraped, oiled, waxed, or painted.
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