There may be a boat yet

But.. we can't build the boat until we finish up a bit of other nonsense. Like blowing the apartment walls full of horrible pink oobleck.

And pouring the concrete to complete the new bridge. Oh crap It snowed. Which means the shop roof might avalanche right into the wet concrete.

 Roy to the rescue.

Ty, my concrete wizard, clued me in that moving the concrete uphill through the narrow gap between the shop and the woodshed was not something we wanted to do with wheelbarrows and herniated disks. So we called the local man whose machine moves heavier-than-air stuff uphill. His name (no shit) is Orville Wright. God, I love that. Orville pumped all the grout for my shop walls seven years ago.

Here are Orville and Ty swapping lies as we pump almost fifteen tons (about a thousand zorks) of mud into the forms. And it didn't explode. Awesome.

But gray is boring.

Crime scene.

Okay, back to the boatshop. 

This boat we are about to build is to be a scaled up version of the classic Briggs Grand Canyon Dory--the sweetest looking craft to ever run the Colorado. Since I have something along those lines in the shop already--an oversized Briggs-like Aluminum boat--I thought it wise to take the lines off it for comparison. Because, see, if you make a boat, say, 15% wider, it will have proportionately more buoyancy. So the gunwales will rise up higher above the water. So if you also increase the height of the boat the same percentage, your oars may no longer reach the water. Which is problematic. And my head hurts trying to figure out how to figure that out. But this boat has the same bottom width we are shooting for, and a similar profile, and I've rowed it, and it's about right. So I need the point of reference.

We lofted those lines, then used them as a guide to expand the Briggs lines we pulled of Andy's stock Briggs last year. We lengthened the boat 8.5%, widened it 14%, and expanded the heights 11%. Don't ask precisely how I came up with those numbers. We lofted that right on top of the Alumitub lines. Very similar but dramatically different. Then we made a mini-strongback at a 1/10 scale.

And wrapped on a transom and side panels made from an old screwed up panel of veneer I had been saving for way too long.

Then superglued in a mess of cross braces so it could mot change shape and pulled it off the strong back. To our amazement, we got a very pretty, very Briggsy boat. I'd go so far as to call it sexy. It's name is BOB-1, for Big ol' Briggs #1.

We're going to make a slightly longer one (BOB-2) tomorrow and let the owner chose which pleases his eye more.

THEN we'll build a boat.

Oh, but first we have to deconstruct the bridge forms and push a little dirt, and spackle the holes in the apartment walls...

Still not a boat

It seemed like a good idea at the time. But it was actually a great idea. Drive north to Canyonlands, buy my Golden Age lifetime pass to the National Parks, and rent a ridiculously bad-ass bicycle.

The weather seemed convinced I should turn around, but it was bluffing. Mostly.

This is Grandview Point, near the southern tip of Island in the Sky. Kinda pretty.

Bego and I caught the last rays of the sun from The Knoll.

Coop and RJ pointing out something or another as the moon rose over the La Sals.

And the sun set over Canyonlands.

Here I am aboard a 29" Extra Large dual-suspension 20-speed bike with a seat that goes up and down for steep hills with the push of a button. 

And boom, off we went down the Shaefer Trail, about a thousand feet down. 

Lunch at Musselman Arch

Me taking a picture of Bego, taking a picture of Heather, taking a picture of Coop and Lori.

Grunting up a long grade.

And camp.

A few repairs.

Me pitching my new tent.

It says it goes up in three seconds, but its faster than that. Plenty of time to bake Chili Rellenos.

It is ridiculously spectacular out there.

If someone ever tells you to get lost, this might be a good spot to try.

Pushing up Murphy's Hogback, as our sag wagons motor up with the goods. And beer.

Another sunset.

Another sunrise.

Me skittering down Murphy's Hogfront in the morning.

Coop examining the local fauna.

Triops, or Tadpole Shrimp. Most peculiar creatures. One of them was swallowing another one of them. We left.

Across the bottomless Black Crack.

Turk's Head

A chilly, spitty evening followed by a lovely dawn.

The last morning was a double grind--up over Hardscrabble, then up over 1000 feet from Mineral Bottom to Mineral Top. First gear all the way. Huffin' and a'puffin. But my new knees did just great the whole trip. And that was that. 

I took the awesome rental bike back to the bike shop in Moab and headed over to Dolores, Colorado to visit boatbuilder buddy Andy Hutchinson and his bride Kate. The Doloreans had a pretty good display of punkins downtown.

Andy's was especially cool.

My costume was less than ideal for the chilly night.

Then back home to Flagstaff to watch our brief autumn descend into winter. Rain is turning to snow as I type.

This isn't a boat either. Since there is a brief vacancy in my apartment, we took the opportunity to tear into the walls and put in sound insulation. And make a very large mess.

And launch my local democratic socialist campaign

But finally I couldn't avoid it any longer. A boat showed up. We have been giving it some sweet gunwale love. A few more distractions and the first build of the winter begins.