The Plywood Saga opens the Quick Canoe adventure

Finally my plywood has arrived. What a saga!

On November  1st --three weeks ago -- I purchased 3 sheets of 240x1220 ply loaded them onto my car roof rack and left the plywood shop.

But I had to return  because the wind  had risen and  the chances of keeping the wood sheets attached to the car roof rack were slim. We were poised for something to take off.

When I had rung the supplier about our problem they said they could deliver the items to  my house 40 km away. So we decided to return to  there and do that.

But when we got back to the shop we were told  that they don't in fact  deliver to where I live . We tried to strap the sheets onto the car securely but without success so the supplier told us, that they'll deliver the wood to our district (not our town) and I could pick it up there.They'd ring and arrange a rendezvous.

So I paid for a delivery (by cash) and left.

Then I just waited. I fell ill during this time and besides I didn't want to collect the wood while the winds were still up...and it has been very breezy indeed. So I didn't fret over the issue of the wood.

I also was in no special hurry for the ply as I needed my neighbour available to cut it to size...and he was holiday prone.. 

But today --after further chit chat -- the wood arrived at my doorstep. I am now the proud owner ...of wood -- three sheets of wood that need to cut to template size by an electric saw.

So I'm poised on my Quick Canoe build. I'm at the  beginning of a task for which I  have no skills whatsoever.

How the piece are supposed to look when cut to shape.

I'm anxious and will  be calling on a few favours to get me through the build. My son is my chippy partner and investor...

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Ghost Skegs rebuild

I am rebuilding the 'Ghost Skegs' on The Flying Crutchman.

Having a fiddle.

The delight is that I'm doing this with... (would you believe?) crutches. This would mean that all builds on the craft are resourced from second hand crutches: the mast step, the mast cradle and now the rear skegs.

Thus the name...really suits.

Mind you, I'm still 'having a fiddle'. I'm engineering the rebuild as I go -- deploying what I know works and rejecting any doubtful elements.

While not evident from the illustration, once I've trimmed back the stems I'll have the choice of a few ratchet positions  on which I can locate the skegs as they fall  to the rear. That way I hope to adjust how far they will be apart for different sailing or paddling conditions. I also will be able to slide the whole frame to the left or right if I want -- say, when I'm tacking over along distance.

The other big advantage is that the whole rig  can be disassembled for easy portage. Setup will be a few ratchet ties and twists of a couple of stretch cord.

Thats' the big picture anyway, the plan.

That I tie the kit and caboodle onto the craft -- lash it on --  is a product of how I see traditional sailing vessels which were usually lashed together. Not only did these craft sail before the wind, but  all the rigging moved. That's why they creaked. I want that flexibility because I'm sailing on plastic without nails and only a few screws to hold the rigging onboard.

Even my sail is tied on and I've not had a moment's problem with the join despite the force of the wind.

The Flying Crutchman 

Adventure Comic Book

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Ghost Skegs on The Flying Crutchman

You'd think I'd leave well enough alone.

If you recall, I'd installed a pair of what I now call Ghost Skegs behind my craft to facilitate tracking.

They work.

I've since discovered that by moving the a skeg closer to (medially) or further away (laterally) from the hull I can manipulate navigational forces.

This tweaked with me after considering Kula Canoes from the Tobriand Islands. 

I asked myself,"what does an outrigger do besides preventing the boat from capsizing?"

My Ghost Skegs aren't outriggers. I suspect that generally I won't need outriggers as I have a catamaran type hull -- but they do serve as rear outriggers in a fashion as unlike normal skegs or keels they float on the surface of the water outside the hull.

A Chine Runner

I asked about this on the Canoe sailing egoup and I was  given a reference to Chine Runners (pictured right). 

Chine Runners are used on microcruisers  for stability under sail.

But that's not my skegs.  

If you consider the Kula Canoes -- aside from one guy at back having an easy time of it  steering-- all the paddlers dip their oars on the same side.

How is that possible without the boat going around in circles? Surely one steering oar at back isn't enough to prevent this?

Well, I'll tell you, because I discovered the exact same relationship: the medial paddling force on one side runs counter to the tracking force of the outrigger . One pushes the craft to the left the other pushes the craft to the right.

Neat, eh?

Single outriggers are usually sailed to  windward on a craft for that reason. They not only prevent the boat from tipping when under sail -- as they serve as a counterbalancing weight -- but they also tend to steer the craft -- the bow -- into the wind.The wind on the other hand, will attempt to turn the stern into the wind and the bow away from it: ie: steer the boat to leeward.

That's why a single outrigger  and a canoe's hull aren't balanced -- unlike a catamaran. (Other factors in the mix is the one  weight of the sailors and their gear).

Aside from being a snippet of nautical knowledge the contemporary relevance is that I have discovered that by moving my Ghost Skegs about -- by sliding them left and right toward or away from the hull and then locking them into place, I can replicate a similar effect. 

This is handy because

• I  need paddle only on one side to hold a course.
• I can tack and still hold a course without having to compensate for the force of the wind pushing me to leeward.

On The Flying Crutchman, I've worked the balance effect with these skegs by moving them inches medially/ laterally.

Today, as an experiment, with the sail up in maybe a 10 knot wind I moved the windward  skeg further away from the hull and gave the boat a shove in the direction of a tack -- at right angles to the wind. The craft kept to a straight line without any need of intervention on my part (especially as I wasn't even on board!) In case you find that a tad confusing the contradiction is that my  kayak, like most of their species,  is designed to turn into the wind and my skegs don't run along side the hull like an outrigger. They're at the back. 


This irony is fascinating. Since tweaking my back end with these Ghost Skegs tracking is so easy on the Flying Crutchman. I can go for significant distances without needing to dip in the paddle to maintain a course. When the wind is up, I will be able to compensate for its lateral force, if I want, by moving these skegs about.

So as soon as I got back home I pulled apart my Ghost Skeg frame and rebuilt it...out of crutches (of course)! The new fit should enable me to quickly slide the skegs closer to and farther away from the hull. Since they are attached to one another -- moving one closer, moves the other farther away.

I can't wait to get back in the water for more trials.

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Water Scooting

I think I've discovered a new pastime: water scooting. 

People may talk about paddling as though it's the bee's knees but they haven't punted (or 'poled' as the Americans say). It isn't strenuous but it does demand a commitment form the body.

With the one side dip and push it is reminiscent of kickbiking. Like on wheels momentum is all  about rhythm and cadence.

As I've said before here, I'm seated doing this. I did a kilometre today standing up  but with the occasional pitch I was mostly trying to stay out of the water -- scared not that I'd get wet so much but what I would land on as I fell.

Unfortunately   standing while punting  upsets the balance of The Flying Crutchman. The paradox is that  seated I can get more drive  through the water. I'm not sure why this should be so. A standard punting vessel is long and has a flat bottom with chine at both ends . Mine is  a two hulled beamy thing with curve all the way -- stern to bow.

A river punt

I mention this because I need to deal with my hardware's limitations and comprehend its idiosyncrasies.  Nonetheless, I'm thinking that punting -- either standing or seated or maybe half way in between, say on an elevated stool --  is the way to tackle my patch of blue when the wind ain't there. My bay, Deception Bay, hardly gets deeper than 2 metres and around the corner in Pumicestone Passage , 80% of the water is less than 2 metres deep. In a normal day out I have no reason to go 'out deep' -- and I don't. I'm usually in less than 1.5 metres of water.

So any barge pole can touch bottom if I have a mind to do so. In fact the deeper the better -- up to a point -- as you get a broader underwater swing with the pole.

Today  I worked out my stance which has to be different to the one they use on Canadian style canoes when poling (I've been watching punting clinic videos). Mine is closer to stand up surfing with a paddle. I'm still experimenting with where to stand, but at least I'm learning how to do so. My problem is that the craft rocks back and forward as well as side to side.

I also am a bit stiff in my posture and raising myself upright  on a moving and rocking platform  isn't easy for me at all.

Age. Arthritis.

So I'm thinking: do it for the sake of achieving it but stay seated thereafter.

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The Flying Crutchman finally enters its comfort zone: punted there/sailed back

I suspect that The Flying Crutchman has at last entered its comfort zone. Since I have been its mentor since the gecko I am more aware than any one else how far the little craft has come since it first came off the back of  a truck from Western Australia  in 2010.

Chosen for its small size and stable  hull base as well as its capacity to bear burdens it began life as a fishing platform but  since then  its sea going purpose  has been consciously  bent  and modified. 

While the basic hull design proved a great source of frustation and angst  in trying to impose new career paths on the vessel, the quest has been immensely rewarding for me, the good ship's captain. 

But today, finally, The Flying Crutchman merged with the elements and proved that it could indeed be more than a cheap sit-on-top kayak. 

After so long experimenting with various rigging compositions  the fit out is beginning to come together and today  the   vessel that was launched upon the still waters of Deception Bay was a qualitative improvement over previous  combinations.

The mast works, the ghost skegs work, the storage barrel stores and acts as a back rest, the seating has promise ...and we discover that  on our very shallow bay with its many shoals  -- The Flying Crutchman 'flies' better punted than paddled.

Today I punted  with my trusty barge pole northward, and, with a light north westerly to harness, I raised my mast and sailed back.

 I scooted through the water by driving forward with my pole  from a seated position. Not the punting norm but the weight balance was right. I may one day be able to stand but punting while seated -- albeit raised up on a few learn-to-swim kick boards -- is ergonomic and comfortable.  Punting drove us through the water faster than energetic paddling. But the higher you ride in the saddle when punting the  better. 

On the homeward journey, my newly trimmed sail -- shortened and reshaped into a true crab claw -- caught what little wind was on offer and we sailed back home with me simply trailing  the paddle to the lee side to hold my course. I could have gone to sleep and still got where I was going.

Veer left or right, turn sharply or stop --  The Flying Crutchman with paddle or pole was very responsive. My Ghost Skegs ( that's my new name for the contraption I hang off the stern to  to improve tracking through the water)  kept me on course effortlessly. 

In fact I can't find any thing to criticize as the vessel's performance today surprised me.

I am in joyous mood.

Some minor tweaking will no doubt be required. I've learnt that an inch shift here or there of 'a part' can make a big difference to performance.  I've been fiddling with these elements on and off for months and as you adjust one thing you have to redo  others. It's like pitching a tent.  But I think ...

• my skegs are right
• my sail is right
• punting is right
• a single blade paddle is preferred to double blade
• using a barrel for dry storage is the way to go
• a seat makes one helluva difference to ergonomics and my bottom

On top of all that I can rig -- or unrig -- the craft in a couple of minutes. Set sail or furl the sail in seconds.  Disassemble all the rigging in a short time, pile it  all on the deck and wheel my loaded cart home... easily get it through the front gate and down the side of the house for sleepy by byes. 

Consider also that my main building materials are:

• two pairs of second hand crutches ( $5/pair)
• a tarpaulin cut to shape
• three bamboo poles (harvested from feral patch)
• a couple of collapsible paddles (expensive at $12 each)
• a swim noodle ($3)
• a plastic storage barrel (around $10)
• kick boards  ($6 the lot)
• wooden single blade paddle ($10 at the markets)
• rope and a few ratchets, screws, stretch cords, eyelets and sundries 

I held the build together with cable/zip ties and duct tape. So far I've found no reason not to continue to use these materials. The mast is held in place and the ghost skegs attached to the stern  with stretch cord. 

Easy on. Easy off.

The Flying Crutchman's Adventure Comic

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The Flying Crutchman takes a punt.

[PUNTING] Yep. New activity. I 'punted' -- I push poled -- a distance by driving myself forward with a barge pole. One of  those  10 foot barge pole (you wouldn't touch a something with)  thingies. Mine was a bamboo cane 2.7 metres long and I used it to push The Flying Crutchman about the waters.

 Beautiful conditions. Still Clear waters. Morning. Top of a low high tide. 

I was hoping to stand (as is the punting norm)  -- but decided that for now I'd learn how to use the big stick in the water before I started upright navigation.   The deck moves under me when I stand and I'm overboard before I get any distance. 

So pole technique first then the upright stance. 

I sat on the lip of my 'bathtub' hull  and the little extra height gave me better leverage than if I was on the deck and  lower. As I punted my technique improved. I was surprized how much control I had with a pole -- despite the fact it had no blade. I could turn and pull to the side , stop and rotate just by moving the pole in the water. Punting options improved as I got deeper because I then had more leverage under me with the pole.

So now my ability to get from point A to point B in the water is optional: paddling, sailing, towing or punting. Depending on conditions and preference.

While I am a bit sore now as the punt stroke is all engaging of the body and new muscle strenuous  -- I really enjoyed my pole dance upon the water. I had chats to those on shore as I passed because punting is unique to these waters. It's not speedy locomotion but you can generate a nice rhythm that is more comforting than the stroke of a paddle. You also get a nice view of the clear waters below you.  And a  nicer view if I was higher. 

A very expensive and very long sea kayak passed in the same direction as I  was traveling another 150 metres out to sea .  I was surprized how my speed measured compared to the big bucks that kayaker was paddling: low in the water, sleek, foot rudder and probably peddles... Maybe I was working harder? I have an underdog problem, you see.

Back home (over the last coupla days)  I did some more work on my combination rigging. I've trimmed back my sail to a true crab claw design; moderated my rear outriggers so that they portaged easier; cut myself a smoother and slightly longer pole....better to make my ride all ship shape and Bristol fashion.

Ready once again to  set off.

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Punting or Poling Possibilities

 Image from the 1840s  that tries to convert 

indigenous poling to English 'punting' .

Tomorrow (or the next day) I'm gonna try poling. Poling? We assume that canoes are paddled but many indigenous 'canoeists' move forward by pushing themselves along with  poles. (Go see 'Ten Canoes' for example) Double blade paddles and what forth seem a bit of a Western locomotion obsession channeling the Inuit. A recent concession is the new popularity for the sport of stand up paddling on large Malibu style surf boards.

In Britain of course the reliable punt has a long history of pole motivation.

The question is whether my craft  has enough tracking confidence to hold a straight line with each push. But 'my waters' are shallow waters albeit open to the vagaries of the cruel  sea.

I  suspect that I may have to pole it from a unsuitable balancing location on the deck.

I also have to be able to stand up and wield a big stick without falling over board. I have selected a good length of bamboo from my domestic collection of canes. I hope to  punt on a high tide (low high tide) early in the morn before the wind gets up.

Karumosa, a Kula canoe from the Trobriand Islands,
 Papua New Guinea

Poling offers a few advantages I suspect over paddling:

1. With each pole push you get more traction and greater thrust than you would from a dipped paddle stroke.
2. Poling would offer greater counter resistance to the force of  currents, waves or wind. This is why canoe poling in the US is often done upstream on shallow, even fast flowing, waterways. 
3. A pole in place on the bottom holds the craft in place like an anchor against prevailing conditions and from that locked postion moves the canoe forward.This counters any reverse trend.
4. A pole is easily stored on board for ready use. Eg: strapped to the mast or even part of the mast or spar.
5. Poling suits shallow waters and shoals that are not deep enough for even a paddle dip.
6. A pole is the quintessential tool kit for a flat bottom boa. Whereas paddle strokes value  chine.

I already pole when I'm  'sailing' because it's the most efficient way to move out of or cross the shallows. My problem is that I use the paddle and I know from past experience when I was paddling surf skis that poling along the bottom -- even a sandy bottom --with a paddle blade is a short cut to splitting it. So I've been turning the single blade paddle of mine upside down to pole with it. But that maneuver is  clumsy. 

I had thought of carrying extendable walking stick specifically for poling while seated -- but why not go the whole hog and stand up to pole? That way the swing left and right across the deck is easier (I assume) than what it would be seated.

Note: Since I trimmed back my mast and sail today I hypothetically have more room on board to do other stuff. Look at the Kula  above -- it's loaded up big time with gear. Among the stuff is the canoe's sail. The Kula canoe  also has a twin hull (albeit a huge outrigger to one side) similar to my beast.

I guess the takeaway is that it pays to be eclectic when you're afloat and I'm learning that getting my craft and I from A to B can be a mix of possibilities: sailing, paddling, towing or poling/punting.

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Sailing rig and energy options

Why can't I leave well enough alone? [He says.]

I was out today in a brisk 13-15 knots, skirting the shoals northwards when I began to ponder the prospect that I may be complicating my sailing.

In today's conditions I had to 'trim' my sail by raising the bottom arm up to reduce the sail area. The irony was that the Flying Crutchman sailed better with the reduction in sail area. So I

thought that maybe I should consider reducing the forces bearing down on the craft rather than tweaking the craft to tolerate them?

If I made another sail more like a crab claw sail  I could work through other options where design rather than sail area rules my motion forward.

With a trimmed design -- like in the image, left -- I'd get better vision side to side, reduce my tracking pressures and improve my maneuverability at a price of harvesting less of the wind. 

I know that the trim  works because I have already trimmed to good effect while out and about. To be closer to a crab claw I should run my mast more sharply into the vertical but if I did that I'm asking to tip over as my centre of effort will be way forward.

Another option  is to shorten my mast to reduce the corner angle  that mast and spar are the same length -- which is currently not the case.

Afterward: This is what I did. I cut back the mast and the sail to replicate a crab claw.

So that's two options....

Poling and Towing

Today's log:[SAILING + PADDLING + DRAGGING] Phew! Wind up and I sail long ways. Wind drops and is agin me so I make do. A bit of time on the waters seeking a cold bum.

Methinks that not only could I trim my sail a bit but I should also consider canoe poling rather than paddling. The conditions suit poling as the bay I navigate is so shallow and I rarely get to greater than a metre under neath. And each time I'm out I run over shoals and often have to use my paddle to pole me off. The only complication is that poling should be done while standing and with a sailing rig in place the deck is a bit crowded... But it is possible that on a stubby little craft like mine when the wind ain't there poling may get me from A to B with less effort than paddling from a seated position. Also with the sail rig dropped to the deck I can't sit  but could stand by straddling the hardware. Poling is the tradition rather than double blade paddling in most shallow water regions of the world like mine...that and a flat bottom canoe such as a Bateau and a Pirogue.

As it is I have learnt to appreciate the ease with which I can 'barge' my craft -- usually against the wind. I call it 'barging' but what I mean is I tow the beast by dragging a line over my shoulder with it skimming behind me like a well behaved pet dog. It is effortless. So methinks it is a viable and respected canoeing option that suits  the design.  At low tide  I can walk for kilometres in ankle deep water with my craft in tow and cover the distance much quicker than if I was paddling or trying to tack against the wind. 

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The ship sails away (would you believe?)

Indeedee do it does! What with the rotten weather I hadn't been afloat to test my latest rigging concoction for the Flying Crutchman -- but today with  a weak breeze to harness I disembarked from my usual launching place.

Then sailed up and down the coast   in the face of a very weak onshore north easterly.  Maybe blowing under 3 knots.  I sailed north and south then north and south again.

Patrolling.

Seven kilometres to the south east a squadron of yachts very much larger than mine -- were caught in the lee off Scarborough. So I got to compare my craft's performance with their's. And I was doing OK. 

They just sat there conferencing while I scooted parallel to the coast. Every time I looked, despite their full sail, they weren't going anywhere.

Sailing north I had to use a bit of paddle steering and pulling forth  against the wind. The  conditions were pushing the bow inshore and I can see why  canoe sailers need leeboards to hold a course. Using the paddle  wasn't strenuous and the now-and-then dips moved me forward at a comfortable speed so that I was sailing and paddling better than if I was doing one or t'other by itself. The sail harnesses energy to drive the craft forward even when sailing against the wind.

I look up and wonder: how is it doing that?

When sailing back south I could have stretched out for a snooze as the craft steered itself and held a steady straight course without any blade work required at all. I thought I'd approach a flock of pelicans two kilometres away but the birds were denied my presence this time as the wind dropped further and a calm set in.

Skill up 

With my present rig I need to master a paddling technique that takes best advantage of the various forces in play.  Single blade paddling is way different from the standard double blade work normally done by alternating pulls each side of a  kayak. With the wind moving you forward the paddle dips are more about counter balancing the beast against the wind and waves in a forward preference. 

To state the obvious, you pick a feature on the horizon in the direction of travel and hold that course.

Would a rudder be preferable? Not with only one pair of hands it wouldn't. Using a rudder and paddling is a huge ask. But I gotta get myself a paddle leash as without my trusty blade I'd be lost at sea. I made myself a make-do one today which worked fine but while I can do a better home made job of it, I'm thinking that since mine is single blade I may invest the $25 and get myself a leash that has a very firm hold on my paddle and has concertina/stretch  cord.

Since the rig 'works' I guess I better (finally) prep and paint the wood I've used -- the cannibalized crutches -- as everything was thrown together temporarily while I fiddled with the design.  

Finally (!!!)  I have  resolved the main  challenges and have myself a sailing rig that works. How about that?

An inch here or there  matters  and moving my rear steering blades closer to -- or further away from -- the hull  may be warranted. But the addition of noodle floats seems to offer better lateral resistance in the face of a cross breeze than  if the paddles were allowed to set their own depth (I know this because I  sailed today with and without this added floatation and 'with' is better.)

I'm thinking of adding a seat of sorts so that my bum if off the deck. With sit-on-tops you paddle/sail while in a sort of bathtub at low tide and while I'm not complaining about the ergonomics  -- I sail semi recumbent  now with my back resting on a stowage barrel -- I'd like to be a free of the waters but not too high in the saddle that I cannot easily see under the sail to the leeward.So while I don't need back support, I'd like something nice under my buttocks.

A kids car booster seat perhaps?

The Day After: Another day on the waters. Same route. Wind fresher (by very little) but still inconveniently from the east and onshore. The craft sails akin to its performance the day before. I'm learning to sail with paddle and such to better effect as I merge with the forces that are upon me and begin to take their measure. While the wind was maybe blowing at 4-5 knots, my section of Moreton Bay is its widest east to west so the waves get traction ahead of the breeze. So that I may have a breeze but more chop than what the yachts get in the lee of Moreton Island which is the preferred sailing habitat  in this northern section of Moreton Bay. The game for them is launch on the Redcliffe Peninsula and head off to Moreton Island  as a sailing option. But for me my sailing speed is handicapped by the waves'  resistance when I'm sailing against them. So I guess I'm gonna have to lean some useful tacking maneuvers in order to improve my journey speed A to B. With much stronger winds forecast for tomorrow -- and from the south west --  maybe some buzz can be had afloat? It will give me a chance to really test the rig.

Sailing in today's conditions may  have been slow but the casual nature of the breeze made for contemplative instruction in way of DIY. A paddle dip here and there; consideration of what course to follow; navigating between the shoals....I'm learning. 

Go to: The Flying Crutchman -- biography in pictures.

                             

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The Flying Crutchman yearns

Swab the decks, touch wood and plastic -- now that my craft actually sails in its  fashion I can  get down to detailing the fun I hope to have with it. And this map

 -- see above image (click on image to enlarge view) . The location mapped is the northern reaches of Moreton Bay, Queensland, sub tropical Australia --

explains my yearning.

It's da plan.

I've always wanted to navigate north and enter Pumicestone Passage -- the narrow channel that separates Bribie Island from the mainland. Bordered by national park, mangroves and with many inlets and tidal wetlands, the passage is the ecological jewel of the northern reaches of Moreton Bay.

Gazetted in 1986, Pumicestone Passage Marine Park, extends from the southern entrance to the Caloundra bar and is just over 35 kilometres long via the channels and has a surface area of 63 km². The marine park has 24 islands and is bounded by 240 kilometres of shoreline. Eighty percent of the Passage is under two metres deep and dugongs frequent its waters seasonally to feed on the seagrass on the bottom of the channels in the passage. Dolphins and turtles also make the Passage home as do over 350 species of birds. Habitats within and adjoining the passage include mangroves and saltmarshes, sand flats and mud flats, coastal dunes and seagrass meadows.

Once the passage is entered, to the north are two quaint little villages -- Toorbul (where kangaroos  run freely through the real estate) and Donnybrook. Donnybrook is approximately 24 km away from my launch site -- which is 800 metres from my front door. I can camp at Donnybrook or Toorbul  if I want at each township's caravan park or  go bush along the shore line. 

At issue: sand flies. But a small single person tent(and insect repellent) would suit me for the sleepover. My craft can carry up to 130 kgm of load so I can gear up enough for a few days afloat.

Paddling my canoe I'd never be able to make the distance in any comfort as the craft was such a hard pull through the water over distance. So my forays north have been less than 10 km along the coast.

But sailing -- and sailing was invented as a way to get some thing else to do all the work -- I can play at being Captain Cook.

That's the aim anyway. 

But first I need to play around with my rigging and train myself in using it to best effect by sailing north and back over shorter distances: to Sandstone Point being my initial focus. 

Of course if all goes well then Pumicestone Passage becomes my every other day sailing playground and hypothetically I could also sail along Red Beach (on Bribie's southern shore) when conditions are favorable. But the currents and rips  between  Skirmish Point  and Moreton Island 16 km to the east  are not to be engaged with in a wee-craft like mine. 

I'll leave those conditions at the entrance to Moreton Bay  to the dolphin pods.

But as yearnings go: my big one is to see dugongs in my travels...and preferably not bull sharks (the party pooper of shallow water recreation -- and I'm a shallow water habitee).

Point Gallagher looking toward Glass House Mtns
across PumiceStone Passage.

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The Flying Crutchman uses its noodle

In line with my earlier musing on the matter to hand, I have added a swim noodle to the stern 'steerage' on my sailing canoe/kayak/paddleski -- The Flying Crutchman.

This means that the paddle blades will trail higher in the water and 'may' offer some lateral support -- like an outrigger -- during wind gusts. I'm not sure where the tipping axis of the craft is located but I suspect it is further back than I originally thought especially now that I prefer to sail with a crab claw type sail elevated above the deck.

This design has not, as yet, been water tested. So don't try this at home unless under adult supervision.

It always seem to me that the design brief I'm after is to create a phantom craft longer than the one I have as 'length' offers better tracking in the water. This is why almost all sailing canoes are at least 12 feet (3.65 metres)  long. Mine is short and stubby at  2.4 metres.  So with the bits hanging off the back I gain almost another 0.75 metres in full hypothetical stretch without adding extra hull weight.

The good news is that by holding the end tip of either blade in a horizontal position in line with the stern I can turn the craft any which way with a twist of my fingers.Such is its  response on dry land while on its carry cart. On the water before a wind....well,who knows?  But that's  what the ocean is designed for: knowledge.

For the newly arrived, here is a recap:

The Flying Crutchman -- biography in pictures

I've been fiddling with my 2.4 metre/7.8 feet long kayak trying to convert it to sailing. I gave up the project for a time not because I couldn't rig an effective sail but I had steering problems. Being so short of course was a major handicap.

My 'kayak' has a twin hull and is quite beamy so it doesn't cut through the water with much verve. So given its stable base I thought I'd add as much sail as I could hoist aloft and ran an arm the length of the boat hanging off a settee -- lanteen -- sail which fell from a mast at 45 degrees.

TRACKING

I tried many permutations in order to improve tracking and coincidentally discovered that if I ran two whatevers off the stern (they aren't skegs, keels or rudders so I don't know what to call them) either side of the beast I could track very well indeed.

Short video of the thing sailing is here.

Skegs attached to the craft didn't seem to work nor were my leeboard experiments successful.

I now use two pivoting single paddles hanging off the rear to hold me to a course. They will bounce along the sandy bottom when I have to traverse shoals in the bay and I can flip them up or detach them for portage.

Everything is light and easy on/easy off. Indeed a good part of it is held in place with stretch cords and zip ties. All very temporary.

It was pure happenstance that I found the position for these stern paddles .I found that an inch or two laterally/medially here or there or to the front makes a lot of difference to how the craft tracks.

More so than how deep these paddles may submerge.

But I wonder about moving into a sort of outrigger option -- albeit only at the rear of the craft. I'm thinking that if I added some buoyancy to the paddles themselves I'd have steerage with an outrigger attached, albeit a short ama well to the rear of the boat -- in fact, trailing behind.

But I wonder: is this worth anything in way of offering sailing stability? Such as in this image and this dual outrigger design.

I suspect that my centre of effort, given my leaning back sail is further aft than I originally thought and maybe I can do a lot more with my back end.

But can it be put to work to keep me upright in a blow?

Twin/cat-like hulls are only so protective in gusts of over 15 knots and seated low I don't have many lean-to-windward options.(So maybe I should get a simple seat and raise myself up to alter my weight shift choices?)

CRAB CLAW SAIL

Each expedition on the water is instructive. Originally I thought that what I needed was to drop my sail to the deck so that I could harness the wind energy close to the water. This may be inconvenient for seeing where you are going, of course, and you miss out on the views either to port or starboard, but the literature seemed to suggest that a wall of sail is best. However, it now seems to me that if I raise the sail arm so that the sail resembles a crab claw sail waving diagonally above the deck I'm getting better drive forward especially when tacking, even though the surface area of the sail presented to the wind seems to be reduced.

Is this impression likely to be true?

I now have a ready billow akin to a dhow's -- so I'm also wondering if that is a good thing? My mast runs at 45 degree angle from the prow.

Tilted like that it is easy to rig and especially convenient for reefing from a seated position (I just throw my line over the mast a few times and pull tight and the sail rolls up and wraps).

The irony is that my boat moves better (faster, sharper,with less effort) under sail than it did when paddled...As a purely paddling craft it's a bit of a drag.

As a sailing craft: I am surprized.

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The Flying Crutchman has a day out

After so many fiddles I think I have finally tweaked my rig - my rig of crutches -- to its best advantage under sail.     I'm sure some more changes are pending but for now I can say that I can sail the thing, even in today's shallow breeze of 4 knots.

The conditions of the last shot in the video of the Flying Crutchman sailing left to right is of the craft navigating due south with an eastery to its windward.      

Click on image for enlarged view

    More rigging adventures:

• The Flying Crutchman -- biography in pictures
• The sailing story so far 
• My Finn Gadget/ Paddleski adventures

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What can I do with crutches and swim noodles?

The Hypothetical Stern Rig

I was so sure that my latest tweak to my sailing rig would work.  

But my attempt to install dual leeboards toward the front of the vessel got me no where except around in circles. The wind still spun me about and I could not maintain tracking.

I thought 'bugger this!' -- another frustrating trial/experiment --  but before I turned my nautical person southward for the journey home I moved my leeboard setup to the stern  of the craft and lashed it there while keeping the short paddles I used as leeboards the same width apart.

Voila! It worked! Two arms -- 'amas' -- trailing behind the craft while I steered with my single blade paddle by moving it about on the lee side.

Talk about trial and error. These 'leeboards' may no longer be leeboards; nor are they skegs as that hang to each side of the hull rather than under it; nor are they rudders as they don't move  side to side. They  almost perform like outriggers except they don't contribute to buoyancy. They are also easy to attach/detach.

[And that option is intriguing -- should I fit some outrigger system by extending these leeboards, especially as...]

My new problem in today's 16 knot gusts was the threat of capsize. So I'm asking myself what can I do with crutches -- my standard refit material -- and swim noodles?

Like so (inspiration resource):

The Flying Crutchman still offers many permutations for the imagination.
                      

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Tweaking the Skeg

You fiddle with one thing and  it doesn't work. So I have no choice but to tinker with the craft  'in dry dock'   then re-enter the water, set sail  and see if the rigging performs.  

It's sail and error.

Today the original length of the skeg was too deep so that when I headed out to sea into a brisk easterly I could not turn the craft about. If I hadn't shortened sail I'd now be part way to New Zealand.

My interpretation was that the skeg was just too powerful a directional device. I want better tracking but not so I can't maneuver. I want enough play to hand so that I can navigate with my paddle in a straight line of my choosing.

Fortunately the single blade wooden paddle I'm using is easy to swing across the deck and dip either side of the craft.

I hope that a depth for the skeg blade in the water  exists that will be just right: for tracking and maneuverability.

Here's another plus: the old beer wort barrel I sealed and loaded at rear to carry gear and keep it dry (like a boot of a car) also serves as a comfy back rest for sailing in a semi recumbent position. 

As for bouncing on, and along, the bottom -- the skeg worked a treat in shallow water.Pivoted upwards, its length got in the way of the sail boom but when the shorter version is pivoted out of the water -- for whatever reason -- I hope it won't obstruct when I'm swinging the boom across the deck.

All these variables are visited upon me to test my nautical perseverance. Add to that the cold water and my chilled bum -- and it's fun afloat.

Ahoy there.

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The Flying Crutchman : phantom no longer

While I had been  previously working on my paddleski, trying to turn it into a sailing canoe, I kept running into frustrating snags. A respite from the task has enriched my creativity and over the past two days I have tweaked my design by using the material I prefer:crutches. 

The joy of crutches

Second hand crutches can be had for cheap at Op shops and they are sturdy built devices made from layers of laminated wood, held together with bolts. Inch for inch they pack  a lot of useful properties for the would-be sailor (such as I). The curves especially are a handy engineering feature.

So when I designed my sailing rig I relied on crutches as my primary building material. 

Cannibalized. Sawn off here or there. Taped and bolted together. I know that there is always going to be plenty more where the last lot came from. 

To the mix add a couple of bamboo stems, a cheap single blade paddle to serve as a skeg and a tarpaulin trimmed to shape (lateen/settee) and maybe -- maybe -- I have the makings of a sail boat. 

When last I was  sailing the craft I learnt a lot about the forces in play under sail and the boat's limitations. I hope this time around I've solved some of the issues that were frustrating me then.

With this rebuild I've parred the rigging way back and made it much easier to attach and dismantle. Rigging for sailing should take no more that 3-5 minutes; and the fold -- the mast drops to the deck and the skeg folds back onto the beam-- makes for easy portage and to trim when the wind blows up.

The only complication is that I need to navigate with a single  blade paddle as a long double blade kayak paddle is difficult to maneuver when the sail is up and hard to stow on board when not in use. I could strap a double blade paddle to the mast stem  and carry it 'on board' there but  first I want to see how well I can paddle the craft with a single blade.

When the sail is up I won't need to paddle much -- only steer. But when the wind drops away completely...? I'll have to make do with the single blade to hand.

I also thought I'd need to drill another pair of hoes in the plastic hull but -- so far anyway, touch polyethylene -- I  discovered that the physics of  ratchet tie-ing ensures that the strongest grip ratio is dependent on the width of what's tied down. Both ratchets are designed to hold 300 grams which should be enough to hang onto my mast in winds up to 20 knots. (I hope so at least. Not that I'll be sailing in 20 knot blows as I hope to be heading for port well before then.)

Pumicestone Passage

But wind gusts being what they are...I still may rip the hull open if I'm unlucky and stupid. Nonetheless, even in sudden 20 knot gusts my old rig design held my mast aloft.

If the design takes off across the waters as I hope I'm thinking that it may make a nifty sail boat. While I may call it 'The Flying Crutchman' it won't be fast as it is too short and beamy to truly  'fly'.  The hull is a twin hull design which makes  staying upright a reasonably  stable business.

However, since I have added as much sail as I could fit aloft, if capsize is inconveniently frequent I can later easily add an outrigger and run it on the lee side (and swap it depending on the tack). But the twin hulls have their advantages in way of  not drowning and  enabling a carrying capacity of 130 kgm. This means I can load up camping gear if I want and head off for sleepovers along the Pumicestone Passage.

I'd never just paddle such distances as the paddleski isn't an easy pull through the water. Better to harness nature and rely on meteorology, especially as the prevailing winds here are coming from east to south east to south west. That means that travelling north -- tacking as required -- is very feasible. Coming home aint so easy but  against a south eastery it is possible to proceed even on a craft like this.

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I'm back: with sailing in mind

When last I addressed the canoe sailing issue I flagged my intention of building a "quick canoe'. But time and tide being what there are -- I have not proceeded in all these months because I don't trust my carpentry aptitide. I know my limitations...

Consequently I haven't messed about  in boats.

I've thought about my  canoe sailing options many times but have been crippled by hesitancy. This week I was considering purchasing a reconditioned fiberglas shell canoe for $300  but  the thing was so big and heavy I got a shock  and my little, light weight, easily lifted paddleski suddenly seemed appealing.

Sample comparison

Fibreglas Canoe under consideration: 4.8 metres = 16 ft [maybe 30 kgm]
Quick Canoe:   4.7 metres = 15.5 ft [23kg]
Paddleski:         2.4 metres = 7.8 ft [18 kg]

So I decided: "Stuff it. Time to go back to where I started," I told myself.

"Fiddle with what I had and see what happens."

The main problem I had with my original rig was the amount of stuff I had to drag behind the craft. I used two rudders and oared them to turn and hold a course. It worked... in a fashion, but rear drag was significant.

This time around my thinking is being formatted by what a  'skeg' and a 'keel' does. So I've attached a simple drop 'oar' off the back to see  if 'position: position' works best. It's easily removed  and with any bouncing along a sandy bottom the blade and stem will pivot up. This skeg may drop and fall but it  holds itself in place against environmental forces that may shift it (and the craft attached) to port or starboard.

A skeg is an  extension of the keel of a boat. The name also refers to a fin on a surfboard which improves directional stability and to a moveable fin on a kayak which adjusts the boat's centre of lateral resistance.

The  hypothesis is that  the 'skeg' should hold the craft in place so that it tracks in a straight line. Kayaks are designed to easily come about and turn into the prevailing conditions  but that is a  major handicap if you are sailing before the wind.   If this rig works, I'll tweak it through experimentation.

With that in mind I also have to consider the conditions in which I sail:  a shallow bay with many shoals. So I need to ensure that anything the hangs off and below the craft  is engineered not to run me aground or break.  That means that any skeg device I attach needs to be able to bounce along the ocean bottom. 

For  steering I'll rely on a single blade canoe paddle  by dipping it either side as required. (I have a nice wooden one I picked up second hand for $10).

A double blade paddle is too cumbersome to handle on my small paddleski when the sail is up. Storing it also takes up a lot of space and it always got in the way of other activities on board. So single blade/short stem works best.

The sail, on the other hand, performs extremely well. It's what underneath that has let me down in the past. 

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