Pirogue Imaginings

At least in my head, the rigging for the Pirogue is coming together. 

I have yet to test out my leeboard design -- as I've been land bound due primarily to  a recent bout of ill health -- but I'm  hopeful that the design -- drop-in and pull out -- will work as intended. I can also locate the leeboard any where along the gunwales to suit the balance of the sail and prevailing conditions.

My leeboard is a recycled waterski. 

I know my sail design works -- but I want to extend its surface area by running it aft further by extending its mast so that it carries the sail almost the length of the craft ( if I'm lucky I may manage  12 feet, give or take 'issues' ). 

The bilateral sponsons/outriggers also serve their purpose.  And in case I do heel over too much, and capsize,  I'm exploring ways to add buoyancy by adding floatation foam to the gunwales.

It's still early days in bringing this all together and I'll be experimenting and adapting the design features but for now I'm interested in finding a way to furl and unfurl the sail while more or less seated . Previously I used a rope and tossed it over the mast a few times to wrap and unwrap the sail. But in this setup I need to have a system I can rely on to work effectively and fast without requiring me to stand up to operate it.

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I like being forced to do the homework to answer my own question and the last post got me going:

Considering reefing a proa sail -- and mine is in like mode -- Proafile has this to say:

Pacific Islanders apparently never reefed. There are no reef points in traditional Oceanic lateen sails. Instead, the Oceanic sailors developed a system of brails or "spilling lines". These are two lines that are tied on about 3/4th of the way out along the boom. They are then run on each side of the sail through deadeyes or blocks located on the mast top, and then down to deck, where they are either hand-held or cleated, depending on wind conditions. These lines serve several purposes; They act as a topping lift. They function like lazyjacks to keep the yard and sailcloth under control when hoisting or lowering the yard. They allow the sail to be de-powered or quickly furled by lifting the boom up close to the yard. By manipulating the lines individually, huge changes in sail drive can be had without any reduction in sail area. If the leeward brail is tightened, it produces a "crease" in the belly of the sail, sharply reducing lift much in the manner of flattening a western sail. Things get even more interesting if the windward brail is tightened. Efficient lift requires a relatively flat sail. By tightening the windward brail, the sailcloth is forced into a very deep curve, effectively cutting drive. At the same time, more of what power remains is directed upwards as lift, so overturning force is diminished even further. The effectiveness of these measures is apparently so high that the Oceanic sailors never felt the need to develop any sort of reefing system. [Make sure you check out the image of a proa so rigged]

which begins to resolve my conundrum while allowing me to also reef as desired.I don't have to worry too much about lateral spill as the mast cradle prevents a lot of that and since i do usually sail with the spar close to the deck (as I assume/ understand that I can get more lift per sq metre closer to the surface of the water) I guess my options may be simple.

My challenge is, I guess, to locate the 'sweet spot' on the mast arm where I can get the best ergonomic pull. (Or so methinks). That's where some geometry may come into play.

I wanted to work through this before I started making the sail in case I had to incorporate design adaptions.

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Leeboard Design

Sketch of my leeboard design

I don't know it yet but I'm hoping this design -- pictured left -- for my leeboard will work.

After Googling up a frenzy  I began to work out my preferences.

The advantages of the design are:

1. I can build it -- and have already created it in my fashion from scrap materials and a waterski. I now have a 'working' model.(Although I haven't actually sailed with it yet.)
2. It hangs over the side of the Pirogue so it can be removed and attached easily as required because it just rests there by harnessing the lateral and medial forces of the water to stay in place.
3. I can locate it anywhere along the gunwales relative to the size and the position of my sail.Since I plan to make a larger sail this is an important feature.
4. If I run aground or the leeboard hits an underwater object the force pivots the leeboard up and out of further harm because it isn't attached directly to the hull.
5. Since I am using wing nuts to attach the long board stem to the frame, I can adjust the depth of the board by moving it up or down a notch.
6. I suspect that with some adjustment I may be able to sail with the leeboard at a diagonal thus I'd be able to change its depth while under sail by simply pivoting it manually. To facilitate this I'm thinking I may employ a banana curved rest so that the board sits on the gunwales with some potential rocker.

I have suspicions that will need to be resolved:

1. Will I have to add weight -- such as lead --to the base of the board to keep it running deep in the water? This is why some canoe leeboards are made from metal or plastic -- material that doesn't float.
2. Will I have to protect the side of the canoe from leeboard abrasions? (I suspect: yes. So I may be using padding.)

•  More recent discusion on leeboards...

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Leeboards and Push Poles

The more often I head out to sea the more I learn....and the sorer I become. The  pain is due to all the paddling and push poling I'm indulging in afloat.

New muscles are discovered by dint of the effort of conscripting  them into service.

So if you were thinking of tackling a novel workout option go  off shore with a paddle and pole.

That said I'm finding that push poling  may indeed be a more ergonomic means to move across the shoals at tempo...and at low tide. It may be de riguer to refer to 'canoe' and 'paddle' in the same sentence but around the world small craft are often punted rather than paddled, and barges of all sizes always require an on hand 12 foot barge pole.

So standing up -- or even sitting down -- and driving yourself forward by pushing off the bottom has a lot of plusses. And once skilled up, maybe  I could do some of the stuff this guy, Chip Cochran, does: 

At the moment I tracking down a better pole option. While I can purchase some Tasmanian Oak dowel -- I'm thinking I may persevere with harvested bamboo (if I can get a good solid length) because  a strong cane is much lighter than hard wood. So long as there isn't too much flex, it should suit my pushing-off-the-bottom needs. 

I've also discovered that poling by pushing off sand or mud has its challenges and in North America duck hunters and fisherfolk add a splayed end or like dooverlackie  to their push  poles so  that they  don't sink into the mud.  (Example pictured at right.)

That's an option. I presently use a shoe pad and it slips on the bottom. A sharp end would simply embed.

Leeboards

This then brings me to the question of leeboards. And what a question it is. 

Leeboard:A plate or board fixed to the side of a flat-bottomed boat and let down into the water to reduce drift to the leeward side.

If I want to sail across or into the wind I'm gonna have to add leeboards to my rig. It has taken me some time to understand the function of a leeboard in a sailing situation. But experience teaches. Check the definition --reduce drift to the leeward side -- that means to lessen drift away from the wind.  That's a kind way of saying that you can't steer the boat where you want it to go because the wind (or waves) won't let you.

Leeboards seem simple enough but I'm sure they are a pain as when you come into the shallows they'll run you aground unless they are raised out of harm's way or they bounce up.  There are many ways to raise and lower and bounce up a leeboard and herein rests my structural challenge.

The other complication is that 'leeward' keeps changing to either side of the craft relative to the direction of the wind...so I may need two leeboards or I may need  to keep moving one leeboard from side to side. (Whether a leeboard can sometimes be sailed to windward is  question that still confuses me.). However...

The best and most pragmatic solution (and mostly used on both sides of the Atlantic it would seem - by ACA and OCSG canoe- sailors) is to use one good board and keep it stuck in the water as much as possible, by keeping the heeling to a minimum. (Source)

If you use two leeboards, one on each side -- or so the argument seems to go -- you can shorten the depth you'd have to go with one. So there.

There are many advantages apparently with leeboards that warrant persevering with them. Check this out:Why I Love Leeboards.

Drop in leeboard

So after building a few mock ups and attaching them to my Pirogue I think I have settled upon my preferred design -- a drop in leeboard similar to this one (pictured right) which I'll hang off the sides of the craft.

How deep it should go is a open question depending on my sail area and sundries. But I've got my eye on a old wooden waterski that I could adapt to my needs. I'm thinking I could vary its depth by moving the position of the top slot with adjustable screws.

And while it may drop in and rest on the side of the craft, if it bottoms it would be pushed up, and tend to pivot. If I used an axle device I'd be stuck with a leeboard hanging off the sides all the time. But with with this slotted in option, I can drop in the board whenever I need it in place, but stow it away at other times.

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Pirogue: the story so far...

           

[CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE VIEW]

My canoe is a built from plywood. It's a Michael Storer's Quick Canoe DIY build.  The design is of a flat bottom pirogue with a keel running the length of the hull.

 It handles fine when I paddle or pole it forward. Since adding dual outriggers I'm pretty much comfortably upright. I built it for local use on very shallow estuaries and bays.

However, rigged for sailing is problematical. I'm using the sail from my old plastic kayak because I know how it performs but I'm having trouble turning the canoe into the wind, even without a sail up.        

Of course the sheer sides are a major factor  encouraging this handicap. But I'm wondering what I could do to counter that:

• a steering oar?
• leeboard?
• deeper outriggers?

Any suggestions?

Discussion about this on Sailing Canoe regroup.(I'd like to thank the contributors).

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Outrigger Design II : doubling up

After resupplying my build, I forged ahead a made a double outrigger today for the Pirogue.                               

Tomorrow I take it out upon the waters. [Click on image for enlarged view].

I think I have ticked a lot of boxes but I may not have engineered the design so that it actually works. It may do a couple of things but then there may be side effects. The floats could submerge and drag the craft sideways or over.The forces on the arms may be too great or they are too flexible to stand up to the lean and dip driven by wind and waves. On the other hand the floats may be suspended such that they are out of the  water and of limited balancing use.

But then I can always pull it apart and rebuild...

• Read more Pirogue adventures

Anecdote

'Tis an interesting feature of the poling traditional that the preferred length of a pole used for pushing canoes and barges along waterways is 10-12 feet. So the marker, 'I wouldn't touch it with a 12 foot barge pole!" has substance. Having just created a 12 foot barge pole I know my onions. I should point out that I'm seeking to touch bottom and if you are , say, one day poked in the ribs by one end of my 12 foot pole you'll know that you are within my circle of trust. But I find travelling with a 12 foot barge pole to social events is burdensome.I used to use a 8 foot pole and 8 feet just isn't long enough -- if you know what I mean -- navigationally or socially. So I strung some tent stays together and if waterwise-ing it at 12 feet suits me, I have my eye on a lovely piece of Tasmanian Oak.

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Canoe Outrigger Design

     

After an intense week fiddling with available materials I think I have settled on the engineering and design for my outrigger.    

It's an eclectic mix of 'stuff' and I won't be hazarding a ruling until it gets wet. The logic hopefully is apparent. It will probably be joined by another mirror image outrigger on the other side of the pirogue, but for now it's a single sided feature designed to ride  primarily on the lee side of the craft.

If it doesn't work as I hope, I'll tweak it. When you are using crutch arms and cable ties, bungee cords and swim noodles, fiddling with the design comes easily.  

My puppetry background,  and the materials I mastered via that DIY, is useful.

I spent a lot of time researching outrigger types from East Africa, through Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines and the South Pacific, and it seems (to me anyway) the parameters vary depending on preferred functional attributes and traditions. 

That I have a flat bottom canoe when most indigenous craft are rotund, and  often tree trunk carved, means that I'm dealing with my own idiosyncratic challenges. I won't bore you with the many variables I have discovered and the creative way different sea going cultures have solved their structural and functional problems. 

But let's just say this:I'm hopeful.

I'm not after speed, just stability in varying conditions enough so that my Pirogue and I don't capsize quickly, especially when I've got a head of sail...

            

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Eureka! Pirogue-ing it with a bamboo outrigger to make a sailing canoe

I was out on the waters of the bay today a'paddling and a'poling. Not enough wind to experiment with sailing.    But the good ship and I got a chance to get to know one another.      

Our relationship is getting serious and we are going steady.

In my past few musings while upon the wet stuff I soon enough realized that I desperately needed to put an outrigger on the Pirogue.

But outriggers aren't self evident things.

I've been reviewing many styles of indigenous canoes seeking inspiration and some DIY tips.  Some cultures use two outriggers -- one on each side of the canoe -- such as the Indonesian Juking. Others sail with a single outrigger either on the lee side or to windward.

If sailed to leeward the outrigger is used as a float to prevent the canoe from tipping over in the force of the wind. But on a South Pacific proa the outrigger is employed as a counterweight to the force of the wind so it is sailed on the side the wind is coming from. It may have a ladder so that the crew can crawl out onto the arms and add their weight to the outrigger.

I decided I wanted to experiment with a single outrigger  and sail it to leeward.

But then I had the challenge of deciding how I'd create the outrigger arms. The complication is that with a single outrigger you need to curve the arms so that they run from the gunwales -- the top edge of the  sides of a canoe -- to the water line where you position your float.

I think you also need to allow  some flex -- not much -- just enough to protect your canoe's integrity from wind gusts or big waves. By lashing the outrigger to the canoe you allow for a bit of give.

It  is also necessary to be able to quickly dismantle the outrigger for portage.

While the base design seems simple enough, I had problems deciding on how and where I'd attach the outrigger to the canoe and what materials I'd use to build it.

So I kept up the Googling...and came across a design based on an ancient prehispanic boat excavated in Butuan, Philippines, carbon dated to around 320 AD.(see image above)

It was a revelation.

While the  hull is made from cut timber, what  attracted my attention were the ingenious outrigger arms: one straight bamboo cane which is used as a strut to bend another cane to the water line. 

I thought,"now that's something I can build in an afternoon. Just bend bamboo canes and strap the elements together."

So tomorrow I'm gonna harvest myself some bamboo.

For my float -- since it is no longer 320AD -- I'm planning to ram a bamboo cane inside an extended swim noodle. 

I think I'll get more floatation for less weight from a swim noodle.

If this rig doesn't work I'll just make myself a simple double outrigger setup like this:

      

   
Keep it simple and make it cheap is what I always say.  

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Pirogue-ing it by paddling my own canoe

I took the Pirogue out for its second trial today.

Glassy sea. No wind worthy of the mention. Outgoing tide. 

Great conditions for paddling your own canoe (especially if you -- ie: I --  need to negotiate a learning curve).

To my surprize both the captain and his ship performed  better than expected.

The craft paddles very well and I get more speed and greater distance per stroke than I did from my old plastic kayak -- The Flying Crutchman. I covered a good distance offshore seemingly in navigational comfort. 

After dipping my oar for a few kilometres I stood up, picked up my bamboo pole and started polling over the shallows. 

Effortless motion. ( I do love poling so. ) I was ski-ing on water.

Once you get a feel for the pitch of the craft -- and the way the weight shifts -- the balancing you have to master begins to register and poling is a nice change from paddling.

Although I may have my seat a tad too high I value the role my buttocks  play in the balancing act I need to negotiate as part of my paddling efforts. In fact, I suspect that I may be able to sail this pirogue without recourse to an outrigger by using weight shifting skills alone. 

That will be a challenge for later in the week:sailing.

I could also do with a longer paddle blade given my height above the water line.

Nonetheless, an outrigger it shall have. I am pondering my design options. An outrigger will make paddling and sailing that much less threatened by capsize-ment. 

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We launched the Pirogue today

Well, it happened.

We launched the Pirogue today.

With winds gusting at 16 knots it wasn't a pleasant experience. We capsized several times. and had a lot of trouble steering against or across the wind.

The sheer sides of the build served as a wind catcher and the flat bottom made the craft very tippy -- especially with us novices in charge of it.

I'd forgotten how tippy canoes can be. I need to train up so that I can get my balancing act together.

Of course the thing could float in a saucer. It doesn't so much sit in the water as on it. Thus the ready tip. But with the wind behind us we moved quickly along the coast but did not have the skills to paddle back.

But hey, towing is easy. 

This image below  from the Toledo Community Boathouse shows how high this design rides in the water.It skims the surface.

The message is self evident: if I want to do what I planned to do with this canoe, I'm going to have to add an outrigger sooner rather than later. I'll work on my balancing and seamanship but I'll still need the means to confidently stay upright...and dryish. 

I'll paddle some more in calmer conditions -- that is, without the wind blowing the canoe astray -- but I suspect that a bit of remodelling is in order.My lack of canoeing  experience in boats like this shows. Indeed the difference between flat bottom boating and the curved type was driven home each time I was dunked. There's this threshold  that if reached-- over you go. 

But an outrigger -- one at least on the lee side -- should put things to right often enough. 

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The Pirogue is ready for its maiden voyage

...Just as soon as the paint really dries. Then we see if the new canoe floats and performs. We paddle it. Sail it. And then move to Stage II: a bigger sail and an outrigger.

Click on image for enlarged view

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DIY Outrigger thoughts: crutches + swim noodle?

 

  

I was fixing up my mast cradle ready to see how it may go on the new canoe when I had a thought.     

An epiphany.

My cradle is made from crutches  and works very well indeed.   Crutches are engineered to be sturdy, durable and weight bearing as they are supposed to carry the full weight of an adult human.

They do this so well that the design does not vary although the build materials do. 

So my thought, following on from my last post, was to use the stems of  pairs of crutches  to construct my outrigger. There is a lot you can do with second hand crutches as I have discovered by experimenting with the material on my original canoe -- The Flying Crutchman (so named for obvious reasons).

Second hand they  are cheap, despite their quality and engineering. While people keep breaking their bones or twisting they ankles or wrecking their knees crutches will remain with us. We are indeed talking about a sustainable resource.

So the deal is that I'll employ the curve on the crutch stem to accommodate the fall I need so that the outrigger  arms can reach out to the float -- the ama -- resting on the surface of the water. My initial observations suggest that the drop may be just enough to hold  the ama parallel to the water line on the canoe. After all, that's the main deal with outriggers: they are supposed to keep the canoe upright in the water despite wind or waves.

The ama itself can be made from a swim noodle inside which  further crutches are rammed. By harnessing the curve in the crutch stem, I should be able to make the ama rise up at its two ends. Thus enabling better cutting through the surface of the water.

• the outrigger arms are lashed to the boat
• the swim noodle ama is lashed to the outrigger arms

Everything is very light and can be quickly dismantled for easy portage or for swapping sides. The three bits would fit in the canoe with  leg room to spare. If I consider I may have strength issues or heights or falls I need to make up, I simply add more crutch stems or another layer of noodles. 

You'll find no better floating device than a swim noodle. Their one major drawback is that they deteriorate with too much solar radiation.

When I consider my options -- in effect I'd have to harvest trees or tree branches that offer a naturally grown curvature suitable for outrigger construction -- I think this mix of materials is practical and very cheap. 

My design habit is to build and see -- and in the case of the crutches, I'd lash the stems together with zippy/cable ties and tape,  and use bungee cords to attach the crutch arms to ama and canoe  to arms. After experimenting to improve the design I'd later use a  permanent fixing like flexible wire...

Afterward

On my morning scoot I first touched the sea at the Kunde St boat ramp which is a gap in the sea wall. Stiff south easterly washing up on the run up tide.I know from experience what that would mean after a day out on the water. It would mean surfing onto the cement ramp, disembarking quickly and finding a way to secure the canoe while rushing up the bank for the cart. In the meantime the craft grates itself on the cement.

Advantage as a launch site: 850 metres from home. It has been my standard launching place for my sailing kayak -- 'The Flying Crutchman' -- for the past 2 years.

I scooted off and headed north to McGregor Terrace and sat on the beach (pictured at upper right) to contemplate existence. You access the sandy beach through a grove of Cotton Trees and the nearby eucalypts are the highest of any foliage in town. Easy beach access. Golden sands (these stretch north for another 5 kilometres). Much better launch site and certainly a safer way to return a canoe to dry land. I can also do any rigging that needs doing on the sand before heading off and disassembling same comfortably and in my own good time on my return. I can lock the cart to a local tree while I'm out to sea.

Disadvantage as a launch site : 1.70 metres from home.

Methinks I'm gonna be entering and leaving the water at McGregor hereafter.

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Ready to go (soon)

Half way through the painting

I finally -- well, almost -- finished the painting of the canoe.

In deference to what-may-be  the fickleness of modern house paints I'm going to wait the best part of a week before I immerse the hull in the sea.

Launch. Trials --you know, paddling about hither and yon. Getting the cut of its jib...

"Thats' the way to do it!"

The garish colours are the traditional Punch and Judy colours so this is a carnival or cartoon boat.  Out at sea you'll see it coming from a long way off. Yellow against the blue sea. 

 And still not rigged ready to go: the sail.

After I get a feel for the craft I'll transfer across my old sail rig and canoe sail the craft. Given the size of the sail I have I expect to be able to sail OK without being dunked. Depending on the conditions of course.

I love my sail. The rig works fine: tacking -- even against the wind... But I think I can 'add more sail' to my mast and I want to change its pitch  so that the paddler in the front of the canoe isn't cramped or expelled from their seat because of the sail foot. 

So I'm thinking proa sail. 

Gary Dierking's excellent proas

Traditional Proa sailing is complicated by the pivoting of the mast which can be rocked back and forth depending on the prevailing wind direction. But if you don't pivot what interests me is the way the sail runs away from the deck and its bottom foot is not pitched parallel to the water. Methinks: more head space under neath. More room to move about.Better vision. 

Outrigger

Of course if I add more sail I may become a bit tipsy . I could learn to sail with that in mind...or/and I could add an outrigger. 

I've just come across a simple outrigger design which is in my crude carpentry reach: three bits of wood strapped together. 

This is my ideal. The comments section explain the rig  in more detail.

So what I need -- and in effect all the traditional outrigger sailing canoes of Oceania are built this way -- is two long branches that bend enough so that ama (the outrigger  float) runs parallel to the canoe hull at the water line.  

You need to be able to dismantle the rig for portage -- so you strap it together -- or for swapping the outrigger to the other side of the canoe  as my mast will be  fixed at the bow.  

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PIROGUE: Bogged, sanded and ready to be painted

 

   

Soon enough in the water...

The sealant is still coming together. The plywood  is marine grade -- not your furniture stuff. The 2 pack glue mix I used is BoteCote . That plus screws, woven tape and temporary nails hold the bits of wood together and the canoe is also coated in a layer of BoteCote. But I'm gonna use house paint sealant (x3 coat to the bottom/ 2 coats to the inside) ontop of that and Dulux Weathershield to finish off.Marine paints are far too expensive and many wooden boaties use house paint even for craft constantly in the water.

The canoe is made of plywood. Three sheets of plywood cut to shape into 6 templated sections and stuck together. It's a smart put together and I wish I was a carpenter (I'm more or less skilless) as I would have had more pleasure in the fit up. But it s a surprize to consider its lines given what it is made of and how it is put together. Wooden boaties and boat builders are outside my experience.

Would I do it again -- given my ignorance?

Pacific Islander motif that will ride 

on each side of the bow. The Pirogue 

will be painted yellow.

No. 

I was totally dependent on a skilled neighbour who had a professional background in these things. He even began his working like as an apprentice boat builder. But then as I carefully sand the thing I get to note our mistakes -- not just mine. After you've built a few boats I'm sure the skill curve rises sharply and maybe you can't get enough of the sawdust. 

But me, I've got what I wanted: a serviceable canoe that

• (touch wood) floats
• is made of wood so refits are easy
• is big enough to carry what I want and sail but not too large that I cannot portage it
• is of a design that has further hardware possibilities (eg: bigger sail, outrigger, etc)

I estimate that the number of hours we would have  invested overall to complete the build will amount to something like one work week -- 5 days. But because of this and that complication the build took much longer. Of course if you know what you are doing and have done it before it would indeed be a very quick canoe.

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The Pirogue comes home and will take me many great places

When I was 8 or 10 I got a 'paddle board'. It was a floaty thing  made up of two pieces of plywood separated by air.

On Summer holidays I was exposed to paddling  sit-in kayaks (also made from plywood) along the Mornington Peninsula coast.

So by the time I got into my teens -- with 60's surf culture all around me --all I could think about was going offshore.

So I graduated to a banana ski board, which a chippy in the neighbourhood built for me. I had saved up all the cash to pay for the build. I went long distances with that boat. I explored the coast, headed offshore, surfed it ...it was FFUN!

The 'ski' was something like this -- a flat deck with stirrups:

Twenty plus years later I took up canoeing and paddled Canadian style canoes down a few  of Victorian's rivers. 

But I was, by disposition,  a salty dog -- and while I like the fresh water  rivers with their meanderings and steady currents, my bodily essences are salt sea anchored.

So thirty years later... I get myself a plastic sit-on-top kayak and paddle forth (pictured right/below)  upon my local  bay. I even use it to learn how to sail.

So it goes...

And so we  come to today. I'm no longer a boy. 

But TODAY I have a new boat! A wooden craft.

Not quite finished and nothing snazzy. But I'm in sync with that  past. I think this pirogue will take me many great places out to sea and along the coast... and I live but 500 metres from the sea.

A pirogue is a small, flat-bottomed boat of a design associated particularly with the Cajuns of the Louisiana marsh. In West Africa they were used as traditional fishing boats.^[1] These boats are not usually intended for overnight travel but are light and small enough to be easily taken onto land. The design also allows the pirogue to move through the very shallow water of marshes and be easily turned over to drain any water that may get into the boat. A pirogue has "hard chines" which means that instead of a smooth curve from the gunwales to the keel, there is often a flat bottom which meets the plane of the side. The pirogue is usually propelled by paddles that have one blade (as opposed to a kayak paddle, which has two). It can also be punted with a push pole in shallow water. Small sails can also be employed.

Ironically I spent a lot of time paddling around yacht clubs when I was growing up. But I never wanted to  join them -- the 'yachties'-- (although I was  asked). They were foreign to my penchant to simply mess about in a boat for the sake of being on the water.I didn't fish. I didn't sail. I just wanted to 'cruise' -- hang out along the coast. 

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Pirogue (almost) a go go.

'Tis hard to believe but I'm 'that' close to finishing my canoe build.

I have been obsessed with  creating a canoe for years but could never muster the confidence to proceed. 

But there you have it: my canoe exists (although seafaring it is still an untested option). 

En route I've adapted the original plans to suit my needs.

The Seats

I had a sinking feeling that in raising the seats level with the gunwales I had committed a design flaw. But I see that many pirogues -- flat bottom canoes -- do indeed seat their crew  level with the top of the craft. 

My thinking was that given my often delicate -- stiffness prone -- condition I could do with the leg room; and anyone who has ever paddled a kayak will tell you, sitting  on the 'deck' to paddle with your legs at 90 degrees in front is uncomfortable. So I thought "go higher to raise my comfort quotient."

So I did...

Canoe seats  are usually designed low so that there is less  tip as the paddler or passenger's centre of gravity  shifts with the strokes. But then mine is a flat bottomed canoe  so the side to side thing isn't a major issue (up until a point, of course: the point where the water starts coming over the side).

From experience, I also know that the lower you are in the canoe in the water the less you pick up wind drag. This is an advantage for kayaks being so low in the water: they don't present a large target to the wind. 

My canoe, on the other hand, is a craft I hope to sail more often than not so wind drag  is kosher.

The other advantage of a high seat is that it's easier to pole the canoe without necessarily standing (gondolier style) . In  my local shallow waters, I love poling: pushing myself  forward with a long bamboo cane along the sandy bottom. It can be faster sometimes than casual paddling. Standing while polling has  ergonomic advantages especially when you poll left and right of the canoe as you have to pitch the long pole over the craft to swap sides. This is partly why often boats that are poled from the stern where it is narrowest.

Just as stand up paddling  has taken off as another use for surfboards, canoe poling has its new breed of adherents.

The Sail Rig

As yet we don't know the cut of this craft's jib but the canoe we built -- Michael Storer's Quick Canoe -- can be sailed.

I've taken the sail rig from my old plastic kayak -- The Flying Crutchman -- and worked out a way to attach it to the pirogue. I think I've dealt with  the stresses a stiff wind will have on the hull.

I think so/hope so....

Indeed my old sail looks small when its unfurled atop this new canoe, so I hope to make another rig with  larger sail area.

I'm very happy with the design I use -- taken from Bill Mantis' work up (left). There's a functional logic in the rig despite its lack of a clean line or romantic silhouette.

I had trimmed my original sail but when I get around to making another rig I want to master this shortened sail  first and learn from the trials.

How much sail? How far back?  What skills will I need to handle tacking? What limitations are imposed by my flat bottom? Will I have to consider attaching an outrigger or leeboard at some future stage?

If I go the outrigger route I have an inspiration from the Cook Islands. As  Gary Dierking explains (check out the images):

Aitutaki Paddling Canoes:  I took these photos during a visit to Aitutaki in the Cook Islands in 2008. Some are dugouts but most are flat bottomed plywood. They are mostly used in the shallow area of the lagoon and are pushed along with a long pole.

Martin Roberts  has also added an outrigger to his pirogue (above right). But then outriggers are another world altogether, I'm sure. With an outrigger -- assuming you sail it correctly --  you get to handle more chop and stiffer breezes without capsizing. But sailing or paddling with an outrigger would be a novel experience...

The Aitutaki Lagoon
is big (14 km north/south)

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Quick Canoe -- maybe not so 'quick' for some but do-able

I've read the plans for constructing Michael Storer's Quick Canoe many times. But my technical handicap is such that I was not able to comprehend them.

I am not of the DIY persuasion when it comes to wood.

I have had no experience whatsoever -- nor have I been trained -- in carpentry. So my hopes of building a wooden  canoe were  frustrated until I teamed up with my highly skilled and generous neighbour Max.

And Voila! Maybe Max  did the lion's share of the work and maybe Max was the only person who knew what he was doing but the craft looks almost ship shape and Bristol fashion.

Perhaps I could do it again by myself...but then why should I do that? One  canoe is enough. If you know what you are doing, second time around  I'm sure the project would be 'quicker'. 

You need tools I don't have. You need skills based on workshop -- shed - experience I've never been exposed to...but the making of a canoe is indeed a do-able thing.

At least a three sheet plywood canoe like this one..so long as you have a neighbour such as mine.

Ask me how -- I've more or less done it. 

1. Move next door to Max.
2. Say you'll do anything Max wants in payment for his skills and tools: quid pro quo.

There may be two kinds of people in the world: those who can hammer in a nail -- and those who can't. I'm in the latter company. I have construction skills but not with wood. I guess it's a material thing. It has never been my medium. Give me a bag of cement -- I use to work pylon construction -- and I'm away. 

I can sculpt in clay or papier mache. I can build puppets and masks. I can landscape in mode of Capability Brown ...but give me a piece of wood...and I'm all at sea. 

But then, there you have it: I have now got myself a wooden canoe which will soon be ready for painting. 

Once launched I will tackle the challenge of rigging the sail by relying on whatever skills I may now possess.

The irony is that I wasn't sure that I could even paddle a boat because of my chronic illness. But two years ago I bought myself a cheap plastic kayak and proved to myself that I could indeed mess about in  a boat. I rigged it  and taught myself to sail. Yes indeed -- The Flying Crutchman has taught me heaps. But I realised it has limitations -- being, as it was, made from plastic and short and stubby. So I started to consider my options and counted my pennies. As it turns out, this project will cost me under $500 and the canoe I'll get would have a value of over $1600 -- given current prices. I'm happy with my choices.

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