Current Work

I am in a sort of holding pattern. I have a lot to do and no real direction. I still have to remove all of the fiberglass residue as well as all the caulk between the planking. This is a pretty tedious job. I have to take the heat gun (purchased for $10 on Craigslist) and go over every inch of the hull with a paint scraper. The residue comes off rather easily for the most part but there are places where it proves to be very difficult. I spend a lot of time scraping on those spots. I read a tip on the WCHA website on the best way to remove the caulk from in-between the planking. The tip said to take a hacksaw blade, and wrap one side with duct tape to form a handle. Then take the other side and cut the metal out where the hole is on one side to form a sort of hook. Then you can use the blade to saw out the caulking and pull it out where the ribs meet the planking.  Fun stuff.

Besides these two menial tasks, I am getting lost on what to do. How to decide if an entire plank is junk, or just a piece. How to determine if the flex in the hull is normal for cedar, or if the structural integrity is shot. How to tell if the stem is good and the keelson doesn't need repairing. So what does one do when faced with such problems? Two simple things ...

First you visit your local library (which had absolutely nothing I was looking for). Luckily we are part of a larger network of libraries and I was able to put on request 4 books about building and restoring wooden canoes, and one about the history of Old Town Canoe company. They have arrived and I now have enough reading to keep me busy for a long time. In addition to these 5 books, Sarah also gave me the wooden runabout restoration bible, which is meant for old wooden boats with engines, but there is a lot of useful info in there as well. Finally, I also received my "membership packet" for the Wooden Canoe Heritage Association which included even more reading. I hope these answer some questions.

Second you go find a professional. So I asked Dan Miller of Dragonfly Canoes in Cape Vincent if I could stop by his shop when we were up at the River the weekend of the 24th. Unfortunately he was away that weekend. But I did do the next best thing ... I went to the Antique Boat Museum. I was able to see many different wooden canoes, but unfortunately there were no dinghies on display. So I asked questions (as I am prone to do) and finally the woman at the reception desk told me to shut up and follow her. She took me to the ABM restoration guru who was hard at work restoring a huge beautiful wood boat (see pic below). We talked for about 20 minutes, and I asked him some questions about my project. He was helpful but clearly very busy so I still have not received the info I am searching for. 

I think best chance at getting answers may be to strap old Rosie to the roof of the van and drive her up to the River to have Dan Miller go over it with me (I hope he offers this service). It would be money well spent, and I would really know how to proceed with the project. I just need to find a weekend he will be around.

Until then I scrape.

Rosie's Birthday

Sarah stared at the keelson for 10 minutes the other day. “Are you sure there are 6 digits in the serial number?”  she asked. “Yes, there has to be since it was made in the 1930s. All boats in that decade are in the 100,000s.” I said with certainty. “Well there isn’t room for 6 here” she said as she proceeded to show me the impossibility using her fingers. She was right. That meant that the serial number had to be **352. The first number appeared to be 9. Sarah could make it out even though it was greatly faded, plus it made sense with the Old Town numbering system. So I sent the inquiry for 9*352 into WCHA and within 24 hours they responded ... they found her build record. Her serial number is 99352. So we finally have Rosie’s birthday as well as her original specs and who she was sold to. This is very exciting, and leads us to wonder more and more about her life from her birth to our discovery of her in 2011.

Here is the information we got from the build record:

On Sept 21, 1928 she was conceived by an order sent from the Rochester Boat Corp in Charlotte, NY. She was born (shipped) on Dec 3, 1928. She was an AA grade dinghy (the highest grade possible), which means she came with mahogany gunwales, and mahogany seats.  She is 10' 2" long, had white cedar planking, and her canvas was originally painted white. Unfortunately the Rochester Boat Corp is no longer in business, but I hope to learn more about her first destination.

Here is her build record:

Should Canvas be this tough to remove?

Rosie sat on the saw horses, keel up, and ready to be undressed. I carefully began the process of pulling the canvas off. It was tricky business because it stuck in some places. I needed a good putty knife to "unstick" the canvas from around the hull. As each piece of canvas came off, remnants seemed to be left behind. I also noticed that some wood fibers seemed to be coming off with the pieces of canvas. I thought little about it and continued the work. Mistake # 2 (see previous post for #1). I removed all the canvas from the entire boat, and was ready to assess the damage to the planking. The planking that I could see seemed to be in perfect shape, with a few small exceptions. But I was concerned about all these remnants of canvas left on the hull … so I posted again on WCHA.org. The answer I got was somewhat shocking to me.

I did not remove canvas … I removed fiberglass. That’s right, the boat I was sure was canvas, was actually fiberglass (pretty stupid in retrospect). Apparently I got lucky because the fiberglass job was a poor one. A good fiberglassing would adhere completely to the wood and prove every difficult to remove. So Rosie's original canvas, which I think was called Yale Blue from the remnants I found under the gunwales, had been removed and replaced with a bright red fiberglass. I was very surprised. So what to do about all those remnants (fiberglass residue)? Get a heat gun, and heat each and every one and scrape them off. That was the answer I got. If I had used the heat gun from the beginning to remove the fiberglass, I would not have had the residue and I would not have had the wood fibers pulled up. So now I have to go over every inch of the hull with a heat gun and a scraper and make her smooth again. I hope this is the last mistake I make, but I am sure it will not be.

Old Town Color Chart



Hull with Fiberglass residue:

Mistakes and Mistaken Identity

I have already made a number of mistakes. Mostly minor ones luckily. The one thing I have done correctly was join The Wooden Canoe Heritage Association (www.wcha.org). This site is a font of information pertaining to exactly what I am doing. Of course this was the second site I joined. The first was the Penn Yan Boat Owners Association. I was certain, 100%, that Rosie was a Penn Yan Dinghy. The only problem was some of the dimensions didn't add up. So I asked questions (as I am prone to do). Finally someone on the site mentioned that they thought the boat was an Old Town. Ok I thought, a Penn Yan sounded better, but I could live with an Old Town. Once I researched Old Town I realized that I truly had a gem. That is when I joined the WCHA, which has sponsored an Old Town serial number project. Volunteers have entered and scanned, by hand, hundreds of thousands of build orders for Old Town canoes and boats. They have records dating back to the very early 1900s. All I need is my serial number and I can find out exactly what my boat is made of, when it was made, when it shipped, and who it shipped to … another piece of the puzzle of the history of this little boat. So I searched desperately for a serial number. I found nothing. I finally found a post stating to look at the keelson towards the bow of the boat. There it was!! Problem was that I could only make out 3 numbers … 352 (see pic below). The serial numbers are 6 digits, and I am sure the first is 1 (based on the decade I think it was built). So I have 1**352. The volunteers on the site cannot search by incomplete numbers yet unfortunately so giving this information is not enough for them to locate the build record. I am not finished trying though. I plan on pulling the keelson out and doing a charcoal rubbing to try and glean the other numbers. Fingers crossed.

So I have networked on the WCHA site and asked many questions … some of which I wish I had asked earlier. One person I have connected with was recently the curator of the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, NY. His name is Dan Miller and he owns a business restoring and building wooden canoes in Cape Vincent called Dragonfly Canoe Works (http://dragonflycanoe.com). I plan on visiting him in a few weeks to pick his brain (lucky him).

When I got the boat home it was very dirty and as I mentioned, filled with spiders. So I grabbed my pressure washer and went to work … mistake #1. I don’t think I did any real damage, but I read online, after the fact, that this was a no-no for cedar boats. Oops. The upside was that the wolf spiders were now roaming the side yard as opposed to threatening me from within. They stand up on their back 6 legs, rise up the front two and attack viciously with their fangs. It is a frightening sight for even the bravest and most worthy opponent. They are best left alone, or washed away … with a very long stream of water.

So once the boat was washed I left it out to dry. While drying I prepared the saw horses to bring Rosie into my "workshop" (garage spot #2) and then I brought her in and went to work.

My first task was to remove the completely rotten gunwale. I removed, labeled and stored the oarlocks (there were 3 out of 4 and I think each one is broken), each screw and washer. I am trying to keep every piece of original hardware as I go along. My goal is to restore her to as close to original as possible. The gunwale came off in pieces. I still do not know exactly what type of wood it is, but I am thinking it may be ash. I need to get that build record. After the gunwale was off it was time to remove the canvas. We flipped her over and took a look ...

Rosie Comes Home

So Chuck, my brother-in-law Peter, and I picked Rosie up and carried her to the dock. We dropped her in. She began to take on water, somewhat quickly. Chuck's response ... "Tie her up and lets tow her across". Peter was pretty suspect that the boat would make the trip. I was silently suspect as well, but this was the only way to get her back to the mainland. So we tied her up and started to tow her across. Regrettably I have no photographic evidence of the trip that ensued, but it was pure comedy from beginning to end.

As we pulled out from the dock, she was riding well. We could see into the hull, and things seemed to be ok. The trip to the mainland is about 20 minutes on a good day ... with nothing in tow. This trip would be much longer. As we slowly drove across the River and headed for the very deep and very busy main channel, Rosie's bow began to rise slowly. At some point her bow had risen so high that we could no longer see into the hull to assess the amount of water she was taking on. We hoped that the drag created by being towed would pull the water out of the hull. This hope was quickly replaced with the hope that Rosie would not sink and drag us down with her.  We discussed scuttling her in the main channel. The ever-practical Chuck did not approve of this simply because we were not 100% sure that it would sink all the way, creating a dangerous situation for other boaters. So we were committed ... 100%. It was do-or-die and as the bow continued to rise due to the constant water coming into the hull, it was almost die.  As we pulled into the marina, we had to slow the boat down to a no-wake speed. This allowed me to pull Rosebud in closer by the tow rope to get a better look at the situation. As I pulled the water-logged boat closer to us, somehow I lost my balance. I was falling backward into the River (which was roughly 50 degrees). I dropped the tow rope, my back was all the way in the water, my head going next, and I was holding onto the side of the boat with my calves and knees ... all of this taking place in front of a group of fishermen watching with amused curiosity. As I dangled from the boat, the prop flashed through my head, and I looked at Pete with desperation. He dropped the tow rope, shouted at Chuck to stop the boat and then grabbed my arm and pulled me in. He saved my life (a little dramatic I know, but c'mon, this is a story about a boat being refinished, I need to keep your attention somehow). So looking like a drowned rat, and feeling pretty embarrassed, Chuck made me feel better by shouting to the fishermen who watched it all transpire … "Bet you didn't expect to see that today!"

As we pulled up to the dock, we were able to see that about 50% of the boat was full of water. We dragged her to the rocks and began to pull her out … one inch at a time. Each inch we pulled out caused the water to drain out of the back. The three of us were feeling very manly and strong pulling this boat out, full of water. That was until we heard from across the marina, "Hey you guys need help with that? I have three strapping young men here that could pull it out in no time". Feeling a little less manly, we declined the assistance and pulled her ashore.

That weekend Sarah and I had come up to the River towing a 5x8 UHaul trailer. When we were on the island Chuck had paced off the boat and declared rather certainly that the boat was 9 feet long. I figured we could somehow jam the 9 feet into the 8 foot trailer if we just lifted the bow up. So we drive the trailer around and open her up. As we slide the boat in we realize that Chuck's legs must need to be recalibrated. At a minimum this boat was 10 feet. There was no "jamming" that could get his boat to fit into this trailer. So we tied her down the best we could and let the door close as tight as it could and hoped for the best. The trip home involved a couple of stops to check on her ropes and make sure the door was not wide open. All-in-all the trip was the easiest part of the entire escapade … Rosie made it home to Ballston Spa safely. As did the wolf spiders she was graciously carrying with her. I hate wolf spiders.

See Libby ... they do have fangs.

Rosebud

So her name is Rosebud. She got this name from my mother-in-law Libby, who uses this term of endearment for her four granddaughters. Rosebud was left neglected on the shore of the St. Lawrence River on an Island called Murray Island. This property is on a small inlet on the west side of the island ... which is now owned by Libby and my father-in-law Chuck. After the property was purchased we all went to take a look at the land and cottage and to our surprise found this little gem lying, keel up, on the grass. I use the term "gem" loosely. We rolled her over, and although the ribs seemed in good shape there was a tremendous amount of rot. The gunwales were a mess, the keel was rotten, and the transom seemed to be falling apart ... a gem alright. My wife Sarah and I had the following conversation that night:

S  :  "I love that boat. I don't know why, but I love it."
Me  :  "Yeah, and ..."
S  :  "I want you to fix it up"
Me  : "I have no idea how to 'fix up' a boat"
S  :  "You are handy."
Me  :  "Handy, and boat restoration are not necessarily the same thing."
S  :  "I just love it."
Me  :  "Seriously? Are we serious here?"
S  :  "I can't explain it. I want that boat"
Me  :  "Okay, I will take a closer look next time we are there."
S  :  "I know you can fix it up. I can't wait to have you row me out into the river and serenade me with a ukulele."
Me  :  "Learning the ukulele will be harder than fixing that damn boat. Plus if I am serenading, you will have to be rowing."

So predictably, Sarah and her vision won out. This boat is now in our garage up on saw horses and ready for her make-over.

Rosebud Slideshow

How did she get off that island you ask? An interesting tale that almost ended with a scuttled boat, and me in the drink.