Article by Marty Loken

There are some mostly-good things you can learn from your boat, while serving as her custodian, skipper and maintenance staff. When it comes to upkeep, you may sometimes feel you’re a slave to your vessel, but you’re always her student. Despite occasional moments of doubt, you probably adore your boat, and the longer you own her the more she’ll become your ticket to lifelong learning. And, yes, maybe a lot more.

That is a good thing.

When I think of my own years on the water, I realize boats have given me invaluable experiences and hard-earned knowledge—even moments that occasionally verge on competence. Maybe the most instructive thing I’ve learned, though, is humility—typically at the opposite end of the spectrum from skillfulness.

When your anchor drags because you failed to set it carefully. When your first coat of paint resembles elephant hide. When you measure twice, cut once but the piece still doesn’t fit. Those are a few of the many ways we experience humility, and they’re how we slowly learn to do a decent job, if we stick with boats long enough.

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It’s Sunday morning, June 14, and I’m motivated.

Why? Because after a month away from our small-boat build—mainly preparing for and completing transfer of our 30-foot cabin cruiser to her new custodian—I’m finally at work on RAVEN’s smaller replacement, eager to stay focused until the little guy slides into the water.

Above - Our trailerable cruiser, 20’ on deck and about 23’ overall, alongside RAVEN, the 1930 John Alden-designed cruiser we restored earlier and lived aboard for almost three years. While it was hard to let RAVEN go, we’re clearly excited about her little replacement.

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This isn’t another regular installment in the series—merely a note on why we’ve been missing in action for more than a month.

During the absence we were focused almost daily on a big refinish of RAVEN, our 30-foot cruising boat, designed by John Alden in 1930 and built in 1933 at Todd Shipyards in Seattle, for the then-president of the yard.

We’d accomplished a major restoration of the boat between 2019 and 2021, before cruising her a lot and living aboard full-time for almost three years. But as we continued aging, we realized it was time to spend more time cruising small, trailerable boats…and ease away from the costs of moorage, maintenance, haulouts and all other things attached to larger and older motorboats. (We’ve always been involved in building, restoring and cruising little boats , but now we’re back for good in the wondrous world of small craft.)

So, with work on RAVEN finished, we’ve found a new custodian who as a child cruised aboard the boat with his uncle, who owned RAVEN in the 1970’s. He learned navigation at the dinette table, was inspired to join the Coast Guard and has enjoyed a life of maritime assignments with the Alaska State Ferries, Washington State Ferries and in recent decades the Washington Sea Grant program…overseeing environmental awareness at about 100 private and public marinas in the state.

So, we’ll be at home for the coming week, after which we’ll attack our trailerable dreamboat project with renewed vigor. And it won’t be long before Part 17 appears in your inbox.

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This is a small handout, mainly because I did something previously unthinkable: Yes, I took three—count ‘em, THREE—unauthorized weeks off from work on our little cabin cruiser.

Properly shamed, I crept back to the shop for a grossly overdue work session. Here’s my report for the past few days, starting with the least interesting part—cutting eight pieces of plywood into cambered forms we’ll use when bending sheets of 4mm Okoume, laminated with epoxy resin into a stiff, hopefully strong 8mm pilothouse roof.

The trick with these bending forms is basic: You’ve got to make sure each one has exactly the same camber, so they don’t allow slight hills or valleys, knobs or cavities, in our two laminated layers of thin ply. Because once the epoxy cures, it’s game over.

About the only way I know to assure the forms are identical, since they were cut with the blade of a jumpy sabersaw, is to clamp them into a tight sandwich and run a sharp hand plane over the assembled curve, then hit the surface with a random orbit sander, checking frequently to be sure the sandwich is square on top. (I know, I know: If I had a CNC machine I could cut a stack of perfectly identical bending forms, but I don’t have that equipment, or software, or funds, or the faintest interest…so let the oldster go Old School.)

Above - The dry-clamped sandwich of 72”-inch-long bending forms includes eight sheets of ply, secured so we can coerce them into the same shape. The blue you see is Evercoat’s sandable two-part Lite Filler (used in body shops), bringing low spots into alignment with neighboring pieces. Later, after we know the forms are identical, they’ll be screwed onto a framework before we bend 4’x8’ sheets of 4mm over the forms, bonding with silica-thickened epoxy resin. We think our two-layer sandwich will prove stiff and strong enough for the pilothouse roof—based on the ground rule that nobody larger than a boat kitty is allowed to traipse across the skinny, lightweight roof. A bit later, creating a bit of extra strength, we’ll add pint-sized roof beams on the inside, going for something like another hardtop we fashioned (see next photo).

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Before we say another word, sincere thanks and congratulations to readers who’ve heroically tolerated our marathon-length updates. (When I sit down to write copy, I don’t intend to go overboard but these things always run long. More verbage, photos and macro details than you probably need. It’s impressive that many of you reach the finish line of our marathon episodes, so I’m impressed and grateful but faintly embarrassed by the tonnage you’re asked to get through.)

Above - Current version of the often-tweaked doodle that inspires our project. Can you identify changes made to the illustration since Part 13 of this series?

Time for a Break

So, today you get a break, because we’re focusing on only one subject: How to connect a Teleflex steering hub, cable and push-pull rod to a side-mounted arm that we’re attaching to our wooden rudder? (And in the process achieve the full port-to-starboard swing we need? And also figure out the geometry of our Mcgivored steering system, making sure there’s no shimmy, play or ill-fitting connections between helm and rudder?)

What appears simple is often fraught with complexity, so we’re interrupting woodwork to install steering now, so we can stop stewing about it day and night. Or at least several times each week.

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Last time, we finished framing of the forward cabin, so that’s where we resume, with the photo below. One addition you might notice—some small corner knees that had been epoxied in place shortly before the photo was taken.

Above - We hadn’t finished all fairing work when this shot was taken, but the four corner knees were in place.

Above - Wanting to produce a bunch of corner knees quickly, I cut one out, then traced its shape along the edge of a 12mm (1/2”) marine plywood sheet. Cutting the curves with a narrow jigsaw blade, I then took the ply to our chop saw and made all of the 90-degree cuts…with each knee popping out as I finished. Worked great and was far more accurate than tediously making the 90-degree cuts with the jigsaw or even the bandsaw.

Above - In order to make accurate patterns for each section of the cabintop, I used 4mm Okoume for each side piece, and 4mm Hydrotek (stiffer, less bendy) for the center panel. These patterns will later be traced onto the final cabintop panels that’ll be 6mm (1/4”) marine ply.

Above - First view of the three main pattern panels tacked gingerly in place with small bronze ringshank nails. At this point the overhanging eyebrows are generous—they’ll be trimmed back to about a 1-3/4” overhang later, when the actual cabintop ply is laid down, making sure that all panel joints are aligned just right. (Later, 1/2” x 1-1/2” cedar edging will drop down from the cabintop edges, adding stiffness and helping to lower apparent height of the cabin’s side walls…a little trick that might help with overall aesthetics.

Above - While finishing patterns for the cabintop, we got sidetracked, (I know, you’re shocked) fussing around with a used Teleflex steering helm and cable, calculating that we’d need a new 14-foot cable to steer the sailboat rudder via a side-mounted bronze arm. More on steering later, but as you probably guessed, the wheel you see isn’t what we’ll go with. See below. (Also, the upper portion of the cabin bulkhead will temporarily support the pilothouse roof—two laminated layers of 4mm marine ply, to be made outside of the boat, on the shop floor. Once the cambered, self-supporting pilothouse roof is lowered over the fore and aft bulkheads, the windshield frame will be built over the forward cabintop…with its uppermost edges snugged under the pilothouse lid. At about that point, the upper portion of the bulkhead you see here will be cut away and removed.)

Above - This is the vintage bronze, 16”-diameter wheel we’ll attach to the modern Teleflex helm. We‘ll need to machine a 3/4”-tapered hub that’ll be bolted onto the existing hub of the wheel, adapting it to the modern shaft.

Above - Quick view of the tacked-down cabintop patterns, minus a small section in the forward tip of the cabintop. A hinged cambered hatch (over the black hole) will provide access to the foredeck and its recessed box containing chain and rode. (Anchor deployment and retrieval will be done without having to edge around the side to the foredeck.)

Above - A view from the bow, looking aft over the foredeck and its self-draining box for chain and rode. Deploying and retrieving the anchor should be relatively easy when I lean out over the cabintop hatch.

Above - With the deck-pattern sections in place, we were able to illustrate exactly where bases of the windshield frame will land. The windshield will be in three flat-panel sections—center and two side panes of glass that connect with outside corner posts. (The sturdy windshield frame will support the cambered pilothouse roof, that’ll be a lamination of plywood formed outside of the boat, on the shop floor.)

Above - One of yesterday’s jobs was to apply a first coat of Ammonite to the cabintop frames. Later, after we’ve done a bit more work inside the forward cabin, we’ll glue and screw the 6mm ply cabintop panels in place, in preparation for work on the three-pane windshield. During this week’s three-day session, we’ll build the mahogany helm console, and temporarily attach it to the portside bulkhead to test routing and effectiveness of the steering cable, hoping it’ll turn the rudder smoothly—something we’d like to confirm before going much farther.

…Just for Fun

Above - Okay, now just for a harmless diversion, some tidbits. First off, we might be navigating with iPhones and iPads, but we’ll have backups like this small, vintage compass that’ll live on the dashtop…probably right next to an iPad Mini with Navionics.

Above - In the last installment, I paid homage to my favorite hand plane, a vintage Stanley No. 3. So here’s my preferred small plane, an old Stanley No. 140 block plane with blade that cuts to the outer edge of the plane’s body—a real treat in some situations.

…And a Few Other Subjects

Above - A few personal photos, starting with Grandpa Gilbert Loken and my Dad, Howie Loken, who was always Pop to me. (Yes, I’m the little guy in the middle.) Gilbert, a quiet craftsman, emigrated to Seattle from Norway as a teen-ager with his three young sisters, working in large cedar mills before founding Loken Lumber Specialties with Pop and his younger brother, Lester. My first job, at age 6 or 7, was to remove mountains of sawdust from the underside of milling machines and shovel the chips into a nearby dry-kiln furnace. I made 50 cents a day and loved it…especially working with Pop. The Norwegian side of the family taught me to be independent and work hard; to build rather than buy when possible, and to figure things out on my own. But whether due to Scandinavian DNA or family values, I’ve also exhibited the Norwegian-man stereotype of being reserved bordering on standoffish, adventurous (but on water, not ski slopes), and a guy who apparently isn’t a fan of small talk. (In other words, a quiet and cold fish who is slow to warm, but occasionally exhibits dabs of dry humor. Very dry. Well, so dry it isn’t what you’d call humor.

Above - On the other side of the family, we loved Grandpa Irving and Grandma Fan, my Mom’s parents, who built their modest Bainbridge Island home on high-bank waterfront just after World War II. Here I am with Grandpa and my sister Laurie—another lifelong boater. For years after this photo was taken, we spent summer getaways at Grandpa and Grandma’s place, wading in the warm incoming tides of a long-runout beach; building log rafts and graduating to Grandpa’s 8-foot pram, then his flatiron skiff, which we’d row and later motor up and down the shoreline—often to the shadowy, luscious high-tide end of Little Manzanita Bay, an unforgettable and foundational nature experience.

Above - From a young age, I wanted the tiller, or wheel, or pair of oars. Being a passenger wasn’t as much fun, or as instructive.

Daydreaming About Colors of a Boat

Above - Let’s talk about colors…a subject we’re always thinking about during projects. The colors aren’t well-represented here, in terms of exact shade, but at the top you see Sunbrella’s Cadet Grey, that’ll likely be used as part of a shelter over the aft cockpit. Next is a color-chip from Benjamin Moore, showing their Cliffside Gray (the lighter shade) on the left, and Platinum Gray on the right. Bronze deck hardware will be part of the mix, along with bits of stained and varnished wood. The hull will be satin black, from Marshalls Cove Marine Paints, and the off-white side of the pilothouse will possibly be Farrow and Ball’s Ammonite, mixed by Marshalls Cove. This doodle of the boat includes a sort of golden accent stripe, but who knows? Everything is still up in the air, color-wise, but our basic concept is too go with a subtle mix of workboat colors, in satin, hoping to avoid looking too “cute” or “adorable,” while knowing our little 20-footer will draw many such comments.

Whatever folks think of our small cabin cruiser, we’ll love the thing and cruise the heck out of her…up and down the Northwest Coast, and to inland to lakes and rivers that beckon, trailering her wherever we wish to cruise—mostly in Washington, Oregon, Idaho and British Columbia.

It‘ll be a fine way to age into the simpler life of cruising in small boats…the way we’ve always preferred, but have occasionally gotten away from. And because the new boat will be on a trailer and ready for action, we’ll be able to take advantage of clear-weather winter adventures, keeping warm with the little Wallas kerosene heater.

In the meantime, as we continue building, sincere thanks for reading. - Marty

Now we’re getting someplace, at last.

After 12 episodes in this series, we’re finally building the forward cabin, to be followed by the pilothouse, so an exciting turning point has been rounded.

No matter how far we get into the build of a small, 6-knot cabin cruiser for two aging sailors, we continue to hit unexpected bypasses, design tweaks and simple tasks that take too long. That’s just inevitable when you build or restore a boat.

And increasingly, we appreciate the value of organizing each step in the process more carefully…making sure we have all the tools, materials, fastenings and adhesives at the ready—not to mention Band Aids—laid out on the boat and ideally in the order we’ll need them.

(If this seems to contradict our earlier distaste for outlining every step in the start-to-finish process, our response is No, Not Really, But Maybe Sorta. Converting the whole, wonderful experience to a dry printout gives us the willies. It’s like knowing too much, and from experience—and having done it many times—we understand that only deranged optimists believe predicted completion dates. Call it denial, but we enjoy being blissfully focused on the near term—what we might accomplish today, if we’re damned lucky.)

So, if it appears we’re making progress, and anyone applauds, we’ll credit Nordic ancesters for inspiration, building their own small boats by eye, one step after another, without plans, lists or fantasyland schedules.

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It’s time, at long last, to get serious about cabin-building on our little 20-foot cruiser, so here goes.

After playing with flimsy pattern-stock mockups, including the final cabinside pattern (below), we were eager to cut the actual 6mm cabinsides.

Above - Our adjustable, temporary, thumb-screwed frames worked great, supporting the marine ply at a steady 6-degree inward lean while a bead of System Three’s Gel-Magic, applied to the outer seam, held everything in place. (At a later stage, cedar frames will secure the cabinsides, but for now the adjustable frames were fine.)

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I’ve said this before, but the joy of building without plans is this: You face daily challenges, and sometimes—when lucky—you emerge with a fresh invention. A solution that works, or just delivers you to the next hurdle. I love the whole problem-solving process…the tinkering, day-and-night dreaming, all to make another step toward launch day.

Over recent weeks we’ve meandered a bit, cautiously approaching some hard parts. Measuring more than twice before cutting, fitting and installing two key parts of the boat’s skeleton—fore and aft bulkheads of the pilothouse, backbones that’ll determine everything about design of the cabin structure to come.

After hot-glueing an outline of the two bulkheads, one defining placement of the aft cockpit, the other six feet to the north, becoming the start of a roomy forepeak berth. In-between is the fussiest part of our 20-foot cabin cruiser…the place where we’ll spend waking hours, cruising from one anchorage to the next, making coffee and meals, sitting at a dinette made for two, with sightlines that offer views ahead, alongside and to the stern whether underway or at anchor. Creating a 6’-long, 6’-wide living, cooking, dining and navigating space has been our consuming challenge, solved by erecting full-height, full-size bulkheads and then “playing house” with make-believe chairs, tables, a galley counter and helm seat…all to understand that the doodle we’re building from may work in real life.

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In the last episode of our boatbuilding series (October 17) we made the mistake of itemizing and then publishing “20 Steps to Completion of TATOOSH.”

While compiling a detailed punchlist sounded okay at the time, the 20 Steps included gems like #13, “Design and Build Pilothouse Interior.” It’s fine to share the main headline and then scurry back to work, but pausing to carefully unpack steps required to “design and build pilothouse interior” is like a self-induced intervention, ruining the spontaneity and fun.

To make the point, do these required steps sound like a few days of relaxed, beer-swilling enjoyment? A) complete framing of pilothouse and installation of bulkheads, B) build mahogany helm station and fit steering cable to rudder, and controls to outboard motor, C) construct fold-down helm seat and build galley counter with sink and drain, D) install hand water pump and pickup hose to tank below, E) buy and install Wallas kerosene heater under the counter, along with fuel tank, F) design and construct dinette table with seating for two, G) select and install interior lighting, 110v shore-power outlets and 12v charging stations, H) build doorway into forward cabin and I) other things I’m happy to ignore until a later date.

Over the decades, I’ve gotten by without fussy production schedules. Even earlier, when working on customer boats, I avoided the entrapment of fixed bids and promised launch dates, simply assuring owners we’d do the best we could, sticking to it, communicating regularly and only billing for time and materials. When building or restoring my own boats, the greatest joy has been to simply jump in, making mental notes on what’ll come next while ignoring labor hours. Designing as you build, exercising a practiced eye, being creatively challenged almost daily—what could be better?

I understand this approach is heresy in the realm of naval architecture, but at my age and stage I prefer the backside of an envelope, coupled with a dose of experience. I’m playing a long and personal game with TATOOSH, staying inspired by visions of the boat afloat, out among guillemots, ravens and gulls. I can picture most of the steps ahead, and I’ll cheerfully describe each as they occur, but no more exhausting lists. It’s a hoot to work on a creation that didn’t come with instructions, and exciting that you’re here, sharing the adventure.

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You might as well turn the digital page now, because this promises to be our most boring project update.

Go ahead, quit if you dare. Or keep reading if you’re a hopelessly addicted to small boats, like me.

Soldiering on…

In the last segment, we reviewed everything that’s happened since the start of work, this time last year, when we first imagined a trailerable, fuel-efficient 20-foot outboard cabin cruiser for two aging boaters who are happy at 5-6 knots; who want some comfort while they migrate from open cockpits into a pilothouse with dinette for two, a small galley, cabin heat, and spacious berth in the forward cabin. That’s all, and that’s enough.

We reluctantly set aside the project in late May, due to the irresistible draw of cruising and other summertime distractions. But shortly before adjourning we’d finished a doorskin mockup of cabin and pilothouse…a nice stopping point. The first order when resuming last month was to finish work on the bottom—a project that involved hoisting the hull overhead, adding depth to the shallow keel with tapered layers of white oak, then applying coats of bottom paint…a nasty upside-down job.

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Where did the summer go? And how can it be four long months since we’ve worked on TATOOSH, the 20’ outboard cruiser project we started writing about last November?

To review, here’s our doodle illustrating the end goal, sort of. (We aren’t working from plans—just designing and building as we go—so the sketch is our only guide.)

The project started with the bare, unfinished hull of a Welsford 6 Meter Whaler sailboat and in the first seven installments in our series—the last one appearing in this space April 21—we covered everything from gutting the hull’s sailboat interior to doorskin mockups of the planned pilothouse and cuddy cabin.

If you’d like to review the previous episodes, scroll back to read the following Shallow Draft columns…or just make do with this summary:

Part 1, November 13, 2024 (below) — We demolish everything related to a sailboat inside the hull: Side seats, bulkheads, foredeck, cockpit sole, outboard well meant for a tiny electric motor, and centerboard trunk…getting down to bare planks and frames, so we can start creating our beamy double-ended outboard cruiser.

Part 2, December 17 — After pattern-making, we cut and fit a new transom, frame in the outboard well that’ll accommodate a new 9.9-hp four-stroke outboard, and start cutting a hole in the portside stern. The plywood you see running across the hull is only a pattern for the actual transom.

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In the midst of economic uncertainty, it’s a joy to let readers know that two respected members of our small-boat world—Brandon Davis of Turn Point Design in Port Townsend, and Josh Colvin of Small Craft Advisor—are teaming up to launch a shiny new operation, the Kit Boats Co., with a starting lineup of boat designs that Brandon will CNC-cut and ship from his shop.

Work continues on the company’s new website, but they’re now open for business at www.kitboats.com (which in the future will include more details, photos and additional kit designs).

Kit Boats Co. will focus on the plywood kits, epoxy and fiberglass assembly packages. and sails and masts for the sailing models. Hardware and running rigging lists will be provided, but much will be purchased elsewhere. The sailboat rigs will also be purchasable by owners of other designs, who are looking for simple off-the-shelf solutions.

Virtually all SCA readers know Josh, who’s been Editor since the launch of this magazine 25 years back, publishing more than 130 print issues before soaring production costs triggered a 2023 migration to the Substack edition you’re enjoying today.

Brandon Davis has been running Turn Point Design for more than 20 years, producing a variety of his own designs; competing in the Race to Alaska, using his computer skills and CNC machine to design and cut components for America’s Cup competitors…and of course designing some amazing small boats while working with other talented designers and cutting a lot of boat kits for customers.

Josh has enjoyed a creative business relationship with Brandon for years, so let’s take a quick look at initial designs that’ll be available in kit form from www.kitboats.com

SCAMP

The 11’ 11” giant killer resulted from a classic team effort. Back in 2011, Josh wanted a minimal camp-cruising sailboat that would be stable, safe and maybe surprisingly nimble under sail, so he turned to John Welsford. Initial sketches were for a little 10-footer, but everyone involved realized that wouldn’t do. It had to be larger in length, volume and comfort, so JW came back with a design almost identical to the SCAMP you see today.

Along the way, Brandon made small tweaks so that the final cutting file would result in an easier-to-build kit. Master boatbuilder Kees Prins, then manager of the Northwest Maritime Center boatshop, built SCAMP hull #1, with help from Scott Jones (who followed Kees as the next NWMC shop manager, and now works full-time for Brandon, building boats in their shop). Kees and Scott made some additional tweaks and today Josh is still having fun sailing SCAMP #1.

SCOUT 10

Seeking a small, lightweight and easily-trailered boat that would row, sail and serve as a minimal camp cruiser, Josh and Brandon came up with the Scout 10 kit-boat design.

Specs on the Scout 10 and other designs offered by the Kit Boats Co. are on the website linked above, but here are some shots of the boat that does everything well: Row, sail, cruise…with some comfort for minimalist sailors.

SCOUT 14

Improving sailing performance and offering more room for storage of gear for daysailers and camp cruisers, the Scout 14 was designed by Brandon and launched last year as a kit boat.

Here are a few views of the great addition to the Scout line of kits.

PORTAGE PRAM

This kit design was the result of a lot of research into the ideal dinghy design—a boat that would be light, strong, capable of carrying three adults (or two with large dog and groceries). And one that would be affordable and easy to build.

We put together the first prototype in short order, then developed a simple sailing rig. That small hull is shown here, with Josh Colvin on the left and Brandon Davis on the right.

Though not yet featured on the website, there is also a stretched Super Pram, available soon.

SKATE 15

Imagine a 15-foot-long, 8-foot-wide planing hull that doesn’t weigh much, but sleeps two comfortably and carries a 190 square foot sail (not including the asymmetrical spinnaker)—a speedster that might be ideal for the Texas 200 or the Everglades Challenge, but would also be fine for relaxed daysails in light winds.

The Skate 15 is fully described in the Kit Boats Co. website, www.kitboats.com, but here are a few photos to get you started.

RIO DRIFT BOAT

This is a classic drift boat design from Glen-L Marine, updated with massive amounts of inside watertight storage, adjustable and removable seats, full-length “chine armor,” and even built-in cup holders. It’s the perfect drift boat in kit form, constructed without a building jig or frames. (The basic kit can be assembled in 3-4 days.)

For more details, check the Kit Boats Co. website, linked above.

ROWCRUISER

The Colin Angus-designed RowCruiser is a breakthrough sliding-seat rowing boat with sleep-aboard capabilities and an optional sailing rig that has taken a few builders from Port Townsend to Ketchikan during the Race to Alaska. As a pulling boat, the RowCruiser is fast, extremely seaworthy and surprisingly comfortable when you bed down in under the forward raised deck. (I built the prototype RowCruiser, featured in an Off Center Harbor video, and enjoyed overnight cruises aboard the boat. The trimaran sailing version was developed later by designer Colin Angus, and features affordable stock sails originally intended for a small class racing sailboat.)

As a cruising boat, the 19-footer is hard to beat, and it’s been built by a number of longtime sea kayakers who appreciate being able to anchor in quiet coves and sleep aboard…avoiding the need to haul kayaks ashore—sometimes on rocky, challenging shores.

Full details are on the Kit Boats Co. website.

OLD SALT 15

Josh came up with the concept for a kit boat that would be comfortable for older as well as younger sailors, easy to rig, launch and retrieve, and capable of more-than-respectable performance. Old Salt 15 was co-designed, then, by Josh and Brandon, and the prototype hull is nearing completion as we write this.

It’ll still be awhile before final tweaks are made to the design, following testing of the prototype. A Founders Build, scheduled for March, has been sold out and there’s a waiting list of folks who are eager to build this already-popular design, so please stay tuned to the Shallow Draft column, right here, for updates as the design is tested and final kit details are made available.

Here are some shots of the under-construction prototype, which made its debut at the recent Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival.

For current information on the Old Salt 15, see the Kit Boats Co. website, www.kitboats.com

We’ll have more updates as the new company website is flushed out, and especially as full details on the Old Salt 15 become available.

Thanks, as always, for reading. - Marty

Our friends at Off Center Harbor have a saying I’ve warmly embraced: “Start Off Slow…Then Ease Up.”

It’s supposed to refer to boating in the month of August, but why not all the time?

Yesterday morning, I responded to a question from Charity, a customer of Duckworks 2.0 (www.duckworks.com), who built a CLC Annapolis Wherry with sliding seat, outriggers and lengthy oars—standard setup for the fast expedition wherry (17’ 9” with a beam of only 38”). Charity wasn’t comfortable rowing the boat with long sculls and the sliding seat with outriggers, so she wondered how she might rework the hull for fixed-seat rowing…knowing but maybe not caring that the alteration would cost a bit of hull speed.

I was happy to help Charity figure out how to de-tune her speedy wherry, and get back to the joys of going a bit slower, and being more comfortable with shorter, easier-to-manage oars.

By coincidence I’d done the same thing seven years ago, after building a Colin Angus-designed 16’ Oxford Wherry, a flyweight glued-lapstrake hull that’s similar to the 17’ 9” Annapolis Wherry: Identical beam, almost equal freeboard and similar top rowing speed with outriggers and long sculls. (CLC says 7 knots for the longer Annapolis Wherry; Colin Angus suggests 6 knots for the Oxford Wherry…but both probably have all-day cruising speeds of about 4 knots in their sliding-seat configuration. (My guess with the fixed-seat arrangement, and oars in the 7’ 6” range, is 3 knots of cruising speed, with occasional bursts of maybe 4.5 knots.)

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Ever since our July 12 announcement that absentee corporate owners of Duckworks Boat Builders Supply were shuttering the business, we’ve been waiting, hoping and rooting for Duckworks founder Chuck Leinweber to succeed in purchasing and relaunching the vital, irreplaceable part of the business—the sale of plans for small boats.

Today we’re happy to report that Chuck has pulled it off. After acquiring the right to peel off the boat-plans portion of Duckworks, and then after waiting long weeks for final closure of the larger Duckworks enterprise, Chuck today launched his new, revised and improved boat-plans website: http://www.duckworks.com

Chuck thought he was retiring several years ago when he sold Duckworks Boat Builders Supply, which he and his wife, Sandra, started in a second bedroom in 1999. (Chuck built a lot of small boats, competed in Florida’s Everglades Challenge and invented and organized the fabled Texas 200 sailing event. In the process he met a number of designers of small boats, realizing they might need help in sharing their plans with the public. So DW Boat Builders Supply was born, with plans at the core of the business.)

Chuck’s new version of duckworks.com offers two things: 1) More than 1,200 different plans for small craft, representing 60 designers from all corners of the globe, and 2) Really nice and affordable stock sails tailored to different boat models, including the Goat Island Skiff and many others, along with quality custom sails.

From Left - Some of the stock sails offered by Chuck include the Goat Island Skiff, the Combi and the Voila sailing canoe. Also, among others not shown, the Oz Goose, which is currently out of stock but coming again soon.

Longtime Duckworks customers will be happy to hear that Tammy, a helpful and cheerful voice on the phone, will for now handle all physical orders for boat plans. Chuck will oversee the new website and field most emails, including questions about different plans or stock sails. I’ll be on call in a tech-support role, when folks are stuck deciding which boat to build, or how to approach a building or restoration challenge.

From Left - Chuck at the helm of a small boat, Tammy pulling a Duckworks order last year, and Marty building yet another boat.

So, please join me in thanking Chuck for saving the boat-plans business, by writing a few kind words in the Comments section below.

Onward with duckworks.com, the world’s largest and nicest collection of small-boat plans. With your help, Duckworks 2.0 will survive and prosper!

And, as always, thanks for reading. - Marty

This is a painful story to tell, since I’ve had a personal relationship with Duckworks Boat Builders Supply for a long time—first as a customer, then with Josh and Anika Colvin during their ownership, and finally working alongside founder Chuck Leinweber in a tech-support role this past year. So this is the hard part: The parent corporation that owns Gig Harbor Boat Works and Duckworks, based in California, has told staff members that Duckworks will be permanently closed, effective not later than September 1.

(GHBW is not affected by the announcement.)

The reasons are familiar: Rising costs, slimmer margins, tariffs (or the paralyzing fear of them), and in the case of Duckworks, the threat that future losses might be worse than today’s red ink.

In a press release just issued, Sommer Ueda, VP of Sales & Operations, said “We are deeply grateful to the customers, designers and makers who have been part of the Duckworks journey for the past two and a half decades…We’ve been honored to serve generations of builders around the world.”

She continued, “While warehouse operations are ending, the Duckworks legacy will continue in a new way. Duckworks founder Chuck Leinweber is working closely with plan designers to establish a new marketplace where customers can continue to access the high-quality plans they’ve come to know and love. We will support Chuck during this transition and share more information as the details are finalized.”

Here are the details, as of today: Chuck has purchased the Duckworks domain name, so once the transfer of boat-plan files is completed—following final closure of Duckworks—plans will once again be accessed via the current website, www.duckworks.com (But only plans and sails—other sections of the current Duckworks website will have disappeared.)

Over the past week, Duckworks has started eliminating inventory with a 50%-off sale that is continuing at www.duckworks.com. Many items have already sold out, but the sale will last for the rest of this month, or longer. (Due to the unprecedented volume of orders, please be patient because shipments might take ten or more days…but all orders will be filled.)

While saddened by the closure of Duckworks, we’ve known the company did okay at different points—especially during early stages of the pandemic, when many folks were suddenly working from home and eager to do something fun there…like build a boat in the basement. So there was a tangible surge in the sale of plans, hardware, epoxy products and other small-boat supplies. But more recently, small businesses in many sectors have struggled to maintain amid all of the factors mentioned above. And so slight losses became incrementally larger at Duckworks, leading to the closure decision.

Chuck Leinweber started Duckworks in the second bedroom of his Harper, Texas home in 1999, after building a variety of small boats and realizing there was a market for information…and maybe small-boat products. First he and Sandra launched Duckworks Magazine (you can still find back issues online), but it wasn’t long before Chuck became friends with a lot of small-boat designers and started the broader Duckworks chandlery, representing designers and selling copies of their boat plans as a front door to Duckworks Boat Builders Supply.

The business grew at a slow but steady rate, moving into a metal warehouse several years after launching. Chuck and Sandra were soon known across the world of small boats for friendly, knowledgeable service, fast shipping and fair prices. (During those early years, Duckworks was a mysterious gift—a wonderfully-efficient little outfit with a funny name, in a small Texas town, so different from mega corporations that offered higher prices and shockingly poor customer service. Placing an order with Duckworks, speaking with key people who knew their stuff, was a simple, oddly heartwarming experience.)

Josh Colvin: “I’ve known Chuck and Sandra for years, since the early days of Small Craft Advisor. They’re among the best people I know—high praise from someone who’s spent weeks stuck in tiny boats with Chuck, and who’s partnered with him in business.”

“When Chuck hinted at retirement in 2016,” Josh continues, “I offered to buy the company. Soon after, we found ourselves driving a giant U-Haul loaded with boat hardware from Harper, Texas to Port Townsend. Even after the move, Chuck remained deeply involved, and we had a successful run before I sold the business in 2022, after acquiring Glen-L Marine Designs and realizing that running three companies (including Small Craft Advisor), didn’t leave enough time for a family with three growing kids.”

Josh adds: “I was shocked to hear Duckworks was closing but relieved to learn Chuck would keep the flag flying by selling boat plans. We’ve always shared a deep love for small boats, adventure, and the community of friends and fellow sailors. Duckworks hasn’t been just a supplier—buyers can source materials and some plans anywhere—but it’s the relationships that have made Duckworks special. With Chuck at the helm, both plan buyers and also boat designers are in excellent hands.”

The Evolution and End of Duckworks Boat Builders Supply, clockwise from Upper Left: Chuck Leinweber started Duckworks Magazine in 1999, and soon added Duckworks Boat Builders Supply; Upper Right: Josh Colvin and hard-working Tammy in the midst of unloading and organizing Duckworks inventory after Josh made the U-Haul drive to Port Townsend from Harper, Texas; Lower Right: Tammy, Arelan (warehouse manager, left background), and Katie filling orders in the Gig Harbor location, following the 2022 sale; and Lower Left: Katie Malik and her Dad, Dave Robertson, who founded Gig Harbor Boat Works. Katie grew up in the business and was GM of GHBW and Duckworks until a few weeks ago, when the owners of GHBW and Duckworks fired Katie and Tammy, then suspended boat-plan sales and told remaining staffers that Duckworks would be closed by not later than September 1.

So, while we await the formal reopening of the world’s largest collection of buildable small-boat plans, let’s go down Memory Lane with Chuck and Sandra, during the formative years at Duckworks Boat Builders Supply.

Here are some images Chuck shared this morning, with Chuck’s captions:

John Welsford (center) visited Texas in 2004 and we organized a quick messabout at Canyon Lake.

Mik Storer came to Lake Powell in 2005 for a kayak expedition. He posed for us under Castle Rock on Good Hope Bay. (He was paddling a Jim Michalak-designed kayak. This trip inspired Mik to design his popular Quick Canoe.)

In 2008, we visited designer Ross Lillistone in Australia. Here he is in his boatshop.

We got Jim Michalak (sitting) to come down for the Texas 200 in 2010. He sailed with me in a 25’ Cat Ketch that he’d designed and I built.

2012: (L to R) Cindy, our first employee, me, and Sandra, in our first real Duckworks warehouse.

Besides starting Duckworks, Chuck took part in some early runnings of the Everglades Challenge race in Florida, and launched the Texas 200 Sailing Club, organizing the annual Gulf Coast marathon that is the Texas 200, where he has sometimes been affectionately known as “Chuck the Duck.”

Here are a few photos from the Texas 200…

Here is Chuck, center, with his grandson Harper, left, and William Moffitt on a James Wharram catamaran. According to Pat Hollabaugh, who posted the photo, “Chuck started this Texas 200 craziness. The man is just infectious.”

A beach-camping shot from the Texas 200; photographer and participants unidentified.

More Photos of Chuck and the Duckworks Story, from Josh Colvin:

Chuck paddling during a run down the Rio Grande river in Texas (joined by Josh, who shot the photo)

Chuck having fun during another Texas 200, the event he created and has continued to help organize.

Josh rented the biggest U-Haul truck available, here arriving at Chuck’s Harper, Texas warehouse to load and transport all Duckworks inventory to Port Townsend, in 2016.

Chuck at the helm in rainy conditions.

In coming weeks the founder of Duckworks Boat Builders Supply will once again control the Duckworks domain name and boat-plans portion of the business, helping customers select and buy plans and sails that are just right for their next projects. In the meantime, Chuck asks all Small Craft Advisor readers to please take advantage of the 50%-off liquidation sale being held at Duckworks (the sooner it’s over, the sooner Chuck reactivates the plans business)….www.duckworks.com…and he also wants to let folks know that right now, before he officially relaunches the Duckworks boat-plans site, you can purchase plans you’ve already decided on directly from Chuck. Just email him at chuck.leinweber@gmail.com to order plans…or to just say thanks for everything Chuck’s done for everyone over the past quarter century.

Thanks, as always, for reading. - Marty

To all of our readers, your families and friends…we hope you experience a restful weekend.

Let’s spend more time on the water this summer…right into the Fall. And maybe as a bonus, build, buy or restore some kind of watercraft over the winter months—to be sure we’re boating next summer.

(And a quick side note: Sincere thanks for supporting this publication with your valued subscriptions—the only way we keep the good stuff coming!)

All the best,

Josh, Marty and Our Families

Last month, in Part 1, we brainstormed about an ideal shop design for readers who want to build a boat in the 20-foot length range, or smaller. The idea was to come up with a fresh and relatively affordable design that would be flushed out by an architect, with plans to hopefully be made available by Glen-L Marine Designs—always a source of boat plans and kits, but recently also a provider of plans for vacation cabins and other tiny houses.

We asked you, as a reader of Small Craft Advisor, to join in the fun, describing small boatshops you’ve built or worked in, along with interior details that would make your Perfect Little Boatshop more functional: Stationary tools and their placement; storage for lumber, paint products, clamps, hand tools, epoxy and other small-shop items…and more.

Read more

The second annual Small Boat Festival took place May 31 at Port Ludlow Marina, south of Port Townsend, WA…and some of us might have been hoarse by the end, having talked too much about each others’ boats. So, a good time was had by all!

The event is organized by the Pacific Northwest Pocket Yachters (www.pocketyachters.com), and primary sponsors are Gig Harbor Boat Works, Duckworks Boat Builders Supply, Small Craft Advisor magazine, and Glen-L Marine Designs. Co-sponsors are the Northwest School of Wooden Boatbuilding, the Northwest Maritime Center, the Pacific Northwest Chapter of the Dinghy Cruising Association, the Center for Wooden Boats, and the Gig Harbor BoatShop.

You want photos, not more talk, so let’s get straight to images…all by the author.

(P.S.— knowing you can never get too many images of small boats, check out the photos also posted this morning, “Small Boat Festival Gallery,” by Nathan Lunstrom, who brought his nice Nimble 20 to the SBF and, as a bonus, shot some really nice photos of the event. Thanks, Nathan!)

Among boats displayed ashore was EBB, Tom Regan’s fast, slenderized version of a 16-foot Lake George Boat, weighing in at just under 100 lbs. Here, Tom talks about rowing boats in general, how he built EBB using 4mm Okoume planks and delicate-looking Alaska Yellow Cedar frames on 6-inch centers…all to produce a pulling boat that’s only 60% the weight of a stock Lake George Boat. (Now officially retired from his years as proprietor of Grapeview Point Boat Works, Tom continues to spend Saturdays instructing others at the non-profit Gig Harbor BoatShop.)

Read more

Small Craft Advisor readers are passionate about boating, of course, but there might be one thing they love even more: Working on small boats. You folks do it in your garage, your carport, or under your Costco shelter if necessary.

That’s well and good, but what many of you want—really want—is an actual-factual boatshop. Nothing that’s “Make-Do.” You want a space that’s tailormade for working on your current small boat, or building the next one…a shop that’s designed for the purpose, not overly large or expensive. Maybe just enough space, and the right kind, to accommodate a boat that’s up to about 20 feet in length.

Okay, let’s design a Perfect Little Boatshop together, starting here and now.

Personal aside: I’m retired so I should know better, but I spend 200 days each year working on boats, but only 40 days actually cruising. For someone who loves to be on the water, that’s a crazy ratio. You’re smarter than me, maybe on many levels, but I’m guessing many of you share my passion for shop work and you never quite find enough time for boating. Many of you’d like to have your own personal shop in the backyard, or somewhere close to home, so we share the same disease. If admitting our addiction is half the battle, let’s figure out how to build our own little shop, alone or maybe in partnership with friends. But let’s do this thing!

…And here’s the carrot: Our buddy Josh Colvin, editor of Small Craft Advisor, got in touch wearing his other hat—proprietor of Glen-L Marine Designs, the source of boat plans and kits since, well, forever. Inspired by the fact that Glen-L already offers architect-designed plans for tiny houses and vacation cabins, Josh said he’d like to develop building plans and instructions for a small boatshop—something customers might build in their backyard, or anywhere they desire.

So, your assignment is to think about the space needed for a small boat you might build or restore in your dream shop. What are overall dimensions—length, width, interior height? What about roof design, doors both large and small, lighting, heat and/or air conditioning, and maybe room to flip a hull during construction? How much floor space might you need for stationary tools along with work benches, hand tools, storage for paint, varnish and epoxy products, and the always-appreciated cubbyholing of keen junk, meaning old boat hardware, tools we rarely use but can’t be without, along with lumber, sheets of plywood and other important items?

With a big budget—(not happening!)—we could go nuts on this assignment, but a key goal is to keep the shop easy to build and relatively affordable. In other words, maybe achievable for ordinary folks.

So, to get the ball rolling, I’ll describe needs and specifications for what could be my own Perfect Little Boatshop. Those of you who have thoughts on design of your own ideal shop are asked to describe what you’d like in the Comments section below. In addition, please consider submitting your design ideas, drawings or what-have-you to me, Marty Loken, at norseboater22@gmail.com (We’ll celebrate some of your shop ideas in the next Shallow Draft column.)

Marty’s Perfect Little Boatshop

The small shop of my dreams won’t be built in the near future, since I’m happily finishing my current project, the 20-foot cabin cruiser TATOOSH, in a building shared with friends. After I launch TATOOSH next Spring—the project we’ve been describing in a series of Shallow Draft columns—my future focus will be on restoration of skiffs and sailboats in the 14- to 16-foot range, starting with an 1870-design melonseed in need of major work, followed by other small rowing boats and tenders. So my future shop needs will be less demanding than other spaces I’ve been lucky enough to occupy.

Stationary tools I’d like to bring to a new shop: Old cast-iron contractor table saw, 14-inch bandsaw, floor-stand drill press, 14-inch surface planer, and tool-triggered vacuum with 6-inch random-orbit sander and 3” x 5” finish sander.

Portable tools include a collection of hand planes, battery and corded drill motors, Japanese back saws, sanding blocks with various grits of paper, screwdrivers, chisels, mallets and hammers, pry bars, metal files and wood rasps, and a skinny metal shelving unit holding bronze wood screws, bolts, rivets and roves, and ring-shank nails.

I have four 3-foot wide, 6-foot tall metal shelving units—two for paints, varnishes, thinners and such, and one each for epoxy products and miscellaneous cleaners, polishing compounds, oils, wire brushes, extra tools, etc. (If moving into the shop we’re designing here on paper, I’d reduce the four shelving units to two.)

A bonus I’ve enjoyed in larger shops, and I’d like to imagine fitting into this one would be wall-mounted steel-arm racks: One for lumber (six arms) and one for spars I might use someday: Masts, booms, yards, gaffs, sprit poles, and the like. I could cut those in half, too.

Another category is storage for sheets and partial sheets of plywood. (I find it almost impossible to part with even the smallest leftover scraps of marine plywood, since we never know when we might use that weird, triangular piece of 6mm Okoume. So my solution is to push whole sheets and partial bits up against an open section of wall, quickly losing track of the small fragments I thought I’d never live without. (Right now I have about 15 whole sheets of plywood and the equivalent of 6 more in small fragments. The number will plummet as I get deeper into the TATOOSH project.)

There are three other important ingredients in my dream shop: 1) Work benches with woodworking vises; (2), Rolling metal carts to move certain tools or other items close to the current project, and of course 3) Clamps, clamps, and more clamps, because as the truism goes, “You can never have enough”. (At the moment one tall metal cabinet barely contains my smaller wood clamps. Longer ones, used less often, are clamped onto overhead shop frames.)

Actual Shop Dimensions…

My dreamed-about boatshop would be built with a footprint that’s 28 feet long and 20 feet wide, with a 12/8 pitch metal roof, and trusses that are 12 feet over the shop floor. Attached to some of the trusses, when needed, would be four 1,000-lb-capacity chain hoists with 2-inch wide yellow nylon straps, to lift small boats and occasionally turn them over.

Outside walls would be framed in 2’ x 6’ fir and overall shop dimensions would suggest use of a lot of 4’ x 8’ sheets of exterior plywood. Walls and roof would be properly insulated, power would mainly be 110v, with 220v for one or maybe two overhead electric heater fans), and in a perfect world there would be some storage in the rafters for boxes of keen junk that I rarely access but can’t part with. While mentioning heaters, some of you might prefer a shop wood stove…producing heat while helping get rid of wood scraps. I’ve done that, too, and also worked in shops with no heat…just adding layers of clothing as needed. But if you live in a colder climate than we experience here in the Northwest, you’ll want a serious heating source.

We don’t need air conditioning in our corner of the world, but an overhead air scrubber might be nice, and natural light through windows and skylights would be a bonus.

The 20-foot end wall would feature a large 11’-high x 12’-wide barn door, with windows in the upper portion. We’d want a standard man door somewhere else, and up to six other windows—three on each side wall, placed with their bases 6 or 7 feet above the floor and spaced to allow room in one spot for 4 x 8 sheets of plywood stacked on end. With windows kept high on the side walls, we’d be able to place the tall storage units most anywhere, without blocking natural light from the windows.

Speaking of windows, it would be nice if one of the side windows was 6 feet wide and at a lower elevation, behind and just above my 6-foot-long workbench. (Always great to have natural light there.)

So, there’s only one other thing on my shopping list, and it could be added at a later date: A shed roof hanging off one side of the building, to protect a rack of boatbuilding lumber and spars—nice to store outside of the main shop space. And as a bonus, the shed would be about 12 feet wide, to shelter our small boat when finished, or between repair sessions.

I’m forgetting several things, but this is where you take over. In the Comments section below, please describe the Perfect Little Boatshop of your dreams (in whatever detail you wish), and if you want to illustrate the building or its components with drawings or what-have-you, please email them to me at norseboater22@gmail.com (As mentioned, we’ll spotlight your ideas in the next Shallow Draft column.)

Thanks, as always, for reading. - Marty