Doryak 1.0 : Peekaboo

For several years now we've been talking about making the ultimate personal-sized dory--something akin to the classic SportYak that the Belknap clan popularized in the 1960s and '70s with their row-your-own river trip. "Why should the boatmen have all the fun?" they asked. SportYaks have faded from the scene, but the concept was a good one. Randy Fabreze built a line of small dories called Ouzels in the early '80s but they failed to catch on. Some have said it's just not a viable boat.

Nevertheless we persisted. I messed around with some lines in July, and Monday morning we drew it up, fiddled with the lines a bit, and began building the Doryak. It's modeled on the classic Briggs Grand Canyon Dory because why wouldn't you? About 1/2 the length, 3/4 the width, and somewhere around 2/3 the height. One of the parameters was that you had to be able to get both sides out of a 4x12 sheet of plywood, and make the floor out of a 4x8 sheet. Economy and ease of construction are important. Here are the frames going together on the lofting table that afternoon.

The stem is insane, flaring out at 60 degrees at the top and 49 at the bottom. Thats an 11 degree rolling bevel--meaning the sides converge at 120 degrees at the top and 98 at the bottom. Nutty. A veritable snowplow. Here's Cricket carving the roll.

As we do with all new designs, we built a strongback.

Then we bent on the side panel blanks to mark them for shape.

We cut two identical panels and drilled the screw holes.

To our astonishment, she went together without too much of a fight.

An amazing two-day sprint. Definitely cause for a celebration and a haircut at 2:30 AM.

On Wednesday we put on the bottom.

And steamed on the outer chines and gunwales.

Thursday we bolted own the gunwales and made some rudimentary fore and aft decks.

At 10:00 Thursday evening we loaded her atop two other dories for a weekend jaunt in Glen Canyon. Here we are at daybreak Friday, pausing for breakfast at Cameron Trading Post.

The usual suspects showed up and six dories headed upstream. I towed the Doryak, which Cricket has named Peekaboo.

I actually think Briggs boats look kinda cool with motors.

Peekaboo! Andy Hutchinson and Cricket got a few photos...

Everyone that tried her out smiled hard and said the same thing: "I want one."

Three's kind of a crowd, but it still works. The thing is really fast, stops dead in a half a stroke, spins 180 with a nudge, and is just incredibly fun to putter around in. (Thanks to Harlan Taney for the next three photos.)

Then it got really silly. We just had to know what would happen if we put a motor on her. I held down the bow while Cricket fired up the 6hp Tohatsu. Justin made me put a life jacket on. With the motor at an idle, Cricket gingerly shifted into forward. A little power. Yes. More. Yes! Full throttle. YAASSSS!

And not only that, you can spin it in circles at full throttle and the water stays in the river. It's nuts. Justin tried a solo run, full throttle, abandoning the tiller and clinging to the bow, leaning to turn. That worked too. I do not think I have laughed that hard in many years. We may be onto something.

Back in the shop today we pulled off the gunwales and framed in all the hatchwork, cut the gutters, spiled the decks, fastened them on, and glassed the seams. Now she just needs a footwell, hatch lids, and paint. Proper Dory Colors, of course.

The Season Winds Down

My traveling boatbuilding mania is over for the summer and I got to wind down with a couple great river trips in my old dory Cataract. Here's a peculiar sign as you approach Lees Ferry. I'm pretty sure the view is doing just fine.

Cataract catching a little lunchtime shade.

The tranquility of Kanab Creek.

The reason we bring beer cans on the river. For this purpose we have to drain them.

Between trips a party of old dory folk, about to send a 100th birthday greeting to Esther Litton.

Then it's back upriver for Dory Moon's most preposterous trip yet: a 23-day trip from Glen Canyon Dam to Pearce Ferry. Logistics ranged from impractical to improbable to simply implausible.

Ryann, who spent a year or more assembling the incredible Glen Canyon exhibit up in Green River, gets her first look at Glen Canyon Dam and sends it her best.

The classic Horseshoe Bend photo from river level.

Beneath the Dory Moon, the eternal watchers observe our evening campfire and await our awakening and morning groover activities. 

Glen Canyon Rocks.

On day three we passed Lees Ferry and headed down into the Great Known. Coming out of Sapphire Rapid.

Pausing at Elves Chasm.

Tim and the Great Unconformity.

Deer Creek Falls. 26 rafts, 9 dories, 3 kayaks, and 2 duckies. Perhaps the greatest October cluster of all time.

On across the reservoir we went, ending with a last walk to Pearce Ferry Rapid. It is eating away the rock barrier quite rapidly. It'll be interesting to see the gradient claw its way upriver in the next few years. 

And now its back to the boat shop for a winter of boatbuilding. Yippee!

Japanese Shinano River Boat

The obvious yin to the yang of this summer's Viking boat course would obviously be Japanese River Boat building. So it was off to Seattle after a river trip. Here's Rainier from the window of the flying machine.

I drove due west and found space aliens inhabiting the Pacific Ocean.

 And a stump-eating monster.

Here is the world's largest Sitka spruce. There are a lot of nice oars inside of this, but I hope they stay there.

A big ol' cedar tree.

There's something about the ocean shore that pulls at the heart.

What a fun word to say, especially without engaging your vocal cords.

Here is the Elwha River, rapidly recovering from its former dam.

The first thing I ran into at the Northwest Maritime Center was another of Jay Smith's Viking faerings. Small world.

Suriawase. (Su-ree-AH-wah-say) Sawing between boards over and over until the fit is practically airtight.

Douglas Brooks is a wonderful teacher and a superb storyteller. His tales of the harshness of Japanese apprenticing are a bit daunting. He has now worked under several ancient masters, each being the last of their line. Mostly in silence. "The teacher refuses to teach. But the apprentice is required to learn." He said that the answer to many of his questions were one of two things, meaning either "Watch—and you will learn." or "Wait—and you will learn." But in as much as we didn't have six years to wait, watch, and learn, Douglas actually taught.

By the way, his book on Japanese Boat Building is amazing, as are his adventures. Check him out at Douglas Brooks Boatbuilding.

Once the floor planks are fitted we have to edge-nail them together. Which involves chiseling many beveled notches.

And many pilot holes.

Once the nails are in, we plug the notches, then chisel in little bow-ties to make sure things never come apart.

Riley, who runs the programs at NMC, makes us a bunch more nails.

BFNs. Big Flat Nails.

The beveled ends of the floor get splined on and braced in place.

Heaviness in the center gives it a bit of rocker.

A Shinto blessing of the hull.

More suriawase as we begin building up side boards.

What a wild way to make a really wide plank.

As I did this spring on the faering, I get sidetracked into making another truly weird oar. This boat only gets one oar. It has a big cross-grip for sculling. 

Outside I discover Amos Burg's old boat, which he sailed down around the Horn way back when. In 1938 Amos was the first person to take and inflatable boat down the Green and Colorado Rivers. Shades of Grand Canyon.

We put the sides in place. The Japanese use few clamps, but many props and wedges.

More suriawase.

Once the fit is near perfect we spike the sides on with Riley's BFNs.

More fun joinery as we put in seats and thwarts.

Cleaning up the bottom.

Gunwale caps and end blocks in place, and we're calling it done.

Note the oar notch in the stern for sculling.

A dedication with salt and sake.

Douglas demonstrating the sculling process. I tried it as well but had to sit down or fall down. I need a bit of practice.

Here is a Shinano boat with a bit of rice in it.

Much like the Viking faering, I don't think I really need a Shinano River boat for Grand Canyon. But I am certain the physical and processes we engaged in will color the way I do things back in the boat shop.