Hollow Board Building on the Edge of the Atlantic
Posted on June 13, 2007 @ 1:44 PM
Words and images by: Paul Jensen
Before I really get started, here is a bit of background: I have been building Hollow Wooden Surfboards for several years. I have a website www.hollowsurfboards.com that, among other things, has a “How To” section. People contact me all the time and I get them on their way to building their own boards…
Last summer I get this e-mail…
From: Ben Johnson http://www.bensboats.com
Sent: Sunday, July 16, 2006 12:44 AM
To:
Subject: Surfboards what else?
Dear Paul,
We run a boat building school in the west of Ireland. Would you like to come to Ireland to teach a course?
Thanks,
Ben Johnson
Hmmmmmm… Let’s think about this for a minute. Go to Ireland to teach a class? Ireland, always green. Ireland, famous for it’s honest to the earth people. Ireland, a land of points, reefs, bays and beaches. Ireland, open to the raw swells of the Atlantic.
Ireland, the next place I’m getting my passport stamped!
Over the next few months, details of how the course would work were laid out, travel arrangements were made and the waiting began. The workshop was to happen over the three day Bank Holiday weekend in May of 2007.
The workshop would be a first for me. I have been building hollow wood boards since 2001, and have built sixteen of them for myself since then. I helped a friend build one, but never taught a class; never really “taught” anyone anything. My real job is as a high-end finish carpenter, without employees. My expectations for high quality results are one of my defining personal characteristics; I have little patience for incompetence. It’s just who I am, no apologies offered.
With that in mind, I had unspoken doubts about how I was going to show up to twenty absolutely unknown surfers and non-surfers, with who-knows-what kind of tool experience, all of whom will be talking with an accent, how to build a highly complicated, visually stunning, high performance surfboard…in three days. It takes me (who has the process down) forty hours to get a board to the point of glassing...and I have three days. Another defining characteristic of mine is the fortunate ability to get results. I see this class as that kind of challenge: Me against Time…
The class was scheduled for May 5th, 6th, and 7th. My plan was to get to Ireland a week early to pre-build some board parts that were necessary for the class. Like I said, it takes weeks to build one, and I did not have that kind of time.
In fact, prior to coming over, I packed a box filled with pre-cut components, to save that oh so precious class time. That box was sent to New Jersey, to a log-home company that was shipping to my host in Ireland a huge load of lumber for a project he was starting; we could save a hefty trans-Atlantic charge doing it that way. A good time saving plan, eh…
Once the big lumber load got to Ireland, however, it was quarantined until it could be heat treated to kill any possible pests within the container. Ben e-mailed me a week before I arrived, warning me of the circumstances. My stuff was totally off limits--no softening of the rules for a Yank. All that time I spent pre-cutting parts was for naught. Sigh…time for Plan B…
Once I was in Ireland, it was time to implement Plan B. I would use Ben’s shop and start from scratch, still pre-building what I needed for the class. The Balleyvaughn Boatworks workshop is generous in size and well-lit, equipped with most of the things I needed to build the boards for the class. What I was going to pre-build were a “Gluing Jig”, a basic inner frame, and a “Deck Skin.” Sounds easy enough, and it should not take too long. I will work in the morning and surf all afternoon. Hey--I’m on a working vacation!
However, once I got into Ben’s shop and took inventory of his tools, I realized it lacked the one basic tool that is the heart of my system: a table saw. I thought I would make-do with a hand held Skil Saw, and then if that wasn’t up to the task, I would use his band saw. As I later discovered, neither could do what I needed: cut wood into thin, narrow pieces. The clock to start the class was ticking, a fact that I could not afford to ignore. I could do nothing to push back that start time. Time was my foe, and Time does not know how to stop. Throw in the fact I was also still getting over jet lag, and it is hardly what anyone would call a fair fight.
Once I accepted my dilemma, I refined my plan, allowing a limited amount of time to finish each task. Gotta have a plan. Day one was to build what I call a “Gluing Jig,” a form used to hold together two pieces of thin wood while the glue between them sets. The Gluing Jig looks like two templates of a surfboard with short blocks of wood between them. Holes are drilled for clamps that hold the wood while the glue sets. Building it is simple: cut out the curved pieces of plywood, drill the holes, cut some 4” blocks of wood, and screw it all together. Simple, should take an hour, two at most…
In the shop, I find a good piece of ¼” plywood, trace out the shape and cut it out with a sharp knife I brought from home. Nothing like doing it old school. Next, I find some scrap wood and with a hand-held Skil Saw cut the 4” blocks. So far, it is just like home, except the voices on the shop radio have Irish accents. How quaint! And why don’t they give the weather forecast with the temperatures in Fahrenheit? The music was better than all right, even thought Johnny Cash did seem way out of place…
Back to the process: time to screw the 4” blocks between the plywood. OK, I find a box of screws, cool… Now where is a screwdriver? No, not a rare, specialty surgical tool—I just need a simple #2 Phillips screwdriver. I have a dozen in my shop, at least one in my kitchen at home, a couple in my office drawer. Heck, I even have one under the seat of my bicycle! Nevertheless, this boat shop does not have a screwdriver, and I looked EVERYWHERE, for over an hour, through every tool bin and under every rag. My fight against Time is getting real, and Time has just hit me with a punch to the jaw. However, my Plan B has a counterpunch: I will just hammer the screws in. Take that, Time! The judges score-card shows the first round is even, but Jensen is looking nervous.
Next, I need to make the frame parts: A Stringer and Cross Ribs. I need thin plywood, a knife, and time, about another hour or two. I am in my zone on this one. The frame parts were cut out and made into the basic frame in just over an hour. Advantage: Jensen.
With a little breathing room, in my battle against Time, my next step is to use the gluing form to make what will be the inner rails for the board. Two or three pieces of thin plywood, coated with glue, and clamped to the surfboard shaped form. Once the glue dries, the wood retains the curves, and then it is attached to the Stringer and Cross Ribs that I just cut out. Once again, I cut the thin plywood with a knife, though I wish I had a table saw to do it. The saw would have taken me a minute to cut all the strips; using a knife and finding a straight edge took me an hour. Time moves ahead…
At the end of the first day of prep work, I’m about where I want to be, but I’m mentally fatigued--partially from jet lag, but mostly from trying to find what I need, and having to adapt to a shop and tools that are similar yet distinctly foreign. And don’t get me started on 220 volt tools! I walk away tired, still confident, but with a nagging feeling that tomorrow Time is going to sucker punch me…
Jet lag has me on a way different schedule than if I was home. I am out the door here at 6:30 in the morning, and falling asleep at 2:00 AM. I feel rested enough in the morning, but I also know that to overdraw rest from my body will involve a serious overdraft, one that will be due and payable upon demand. Time doesn’t fight fair…it doesn’t have to.
Continued on page two...
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