Hollow Board Building on the Edge of the Atlantic
Posted on June 13, 2007 @ 1:44 PM
Back at the shop, my battle against Time resumes. The class is only a few days away and I still have a ton of stuff to do. Today I will get the sample frame fully assembled. I need to dry fit the Stringer and Ribs and put the Inner Rails together with those parts. Next, I’ll glue-in some small blocks of wood that will serve as guide strips for a small router which is to follow, to trim away excess rail material and leave me with a completed frame. Easy. Back at home in my shop it should take a couple of hours. But I’m not in my shop; the simplest thing--like making those thin router guide strips--takes me nearly two hours, using tools that were not designed to do that which I was asking them. In my shop, it would have taken 5 minutes, tops. Time takes a huge advantage. Worse, it has me cursing my situation and exposing my doubts that I will be ready for the class.
At the end of the day, with the frame finally completed, I limp away, knowing that Time is kicking my ass. I still have a lot to do and am feeling increasingly tired. Tomorrow, my unrelenting enemy, Time, will be coming at me with a vengeance; tomorrow I must build the Deck Skin…
After another night with a mere four hours sleep, I make another thirty minute walk up the road. The walk is always gorgeous, in an understated way. Soon enough I’m back in the shop ready to give it my best. But today I must have access to a Table Saw and a Planer. Without that happening, I know I can’t teach the class the way I want to, and I’m fully prepared to cancel the class. I will not embarrass myself and be unprepared. On top of the physical fatigue that has been slowing me down, Time is messing with my head—Doubt grows. But there is hope…
Ben’s brother has a shop (yes, THAT is a shop) with a table saw, and a planer. The only problem is it’s three miles away, and I’m without wheels; I’m not going to walk that far carrying a stack of wood. No way. This is 2007 after all. Time just chop-blocked me to the ground…
But to my relief, a ride is offered to me and my wood. I am not out for the count just yet! Time, get back to your corner, I am still up for a fight… Once at the other shop, I fire up the three-phase diesel generator, get the saw blades spinning, and the planer blades whirring. Once the power is shut off, I’m back in the game…
A ride back up the hill has me once again in the shop making progress. Taping wood strips together, mixing epoxy, cutting fiberglass cloth, and squeegeeing resin--I’m getting my second wind. Look out Time, I’m now in this fight to win!
So, that evening I leave the shop with things as they should be, and throw in a little time-saving trick to make things easier later on. I will introduce some rocker to the Deck Skin--a board clamped under it and a weight (not shown above) on top of it--and it’s golden. I leave the shop almost gloating that I can sense my victory over my nemesis, Time…
After another short night’s sleep and a seemingly longer walk up the hill, I am back in the shop. I am now confident that the class will happen. However, Time has been cruel once again. The beautiful laminated panel over which I fought Time for has gone askew. One clamp slipped and the weight on the deck caused the wood strips to separate, leaving their ends not monolithically together, but more like fingers spread apart. I want to break something. I want to cry. I knew I could fix it, but am set back emotionally nonetheless. What else could possibly go wrong?! Oh, the way things were going I could easily think of a dozen. After three hours of delicate surgery spent repairing the damage and then completely re-glassing the panel, I am drained, and it’s not even noon. My plan of spending the “prep-week” with a little work and a lot of surfing was out the window. What made it worse was the fact the surf had been very good all week.
The weather here in Ireland for the previous five weeks had been warm and without rain, not typical for early spring. The swells this week were long-interval, and the winds consistently offshore, with air temperatures in the high 60’s (that’s Fahrenheit, mind you).
Without a board, all I could do at this point was mentally surf it. And vow to return later, with Time on my side…
Offshore winds and head high surf were the reality at this reef break…
Oh well, there’s always the week after the class. For now, I was in a no-holds-barred death-match against Time. Compounding my dilemma is the tightening in my throat, with sore throat on the immediate horizon. Time—that merciless enemy—is now demanding payment on that rest I should have had deposited long ago; the interest due looks painful. Fortunately I had all my tools, materials and pre-built parts ready for the class, which starts the next morning. The only question is, will I be ready?
The day of the class started even earlier than the previous ones. My wife and daughter were coming in from the States, and I needed to be at the airport an hour away, to pick them up at 6:00AM. Fortunately, that went off without a hitch; we got a rental car and headed to where the class would be held.
The class took place in Doolin, a small coastal village right on the Atlantic. This is the view from the window of the community hall where I am leading the class. Ruins of an ancient church and a cemetery of equal antiquity. This is the kind of stuff you see every mile or two around here, not at all atypical.
Before the class started, I noticed that there was a lot more tightness in my throat, and I was starting a persistent dry hacking cough. Time, here to collect on my rest debt just won’t leave me alone! Please, please, please let me get through the next three days without collapsing. I promise I will get more rest after the class is over, but come on! Give me a break and cut me some slack…
Continued on page three...
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