Birth of the Twelve: A Travel-Sized Sail and Oar Skiff

The result of my unusual approach to boating

Article by Nick Kroehnke

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Please see note at a bottom regarding a free prize giveaway for SCA readers.—Eds

My latest build, a travel-sized sail and oar skiff, was conceived as the result of my unusual approach to boating. My approach, shaped by unique local waters—the murky flats and woodland streams of Western Kentucky—is holistic. I’m focused as much on experiencing natural, untamed destinations without the noise and stink of an engine as on sailing for its own sake. When out “sailing,” I often spend a good chunk of my time wandering the remote shoreline of the Cumberland River with the boat beached nearby. Don’t get me wrong, I love sailing. There’s nothing like chugging along before a steady southwest wind, escorted by diving gulls swooping over the yard. Unlike many sailors, I rarely curse a calm. I’m perfectly content rowing when winds are unfavorable. I have adopted an almost utilitarian view of wind propulsion. If conditions allow use of the sail to reach my destination, I will do so enthusiastically. If not, rowing, paddling, or poling suits me just fine.

Before developing this pragmatic attitude, I spent many breezy afternoons just sailing for the sake of sailing, tacking back and forth without a plan or a care. Most of my outings were like that when I first discovered small boats. I began to seek purpose in being afloat. It started with simple missions. I would choose a destination on my chart—an island, creek, cove, or point—and set out to get there by any non-motorized means. At first I made a lot of mistakes, misjudging wind and waves or overestimating my boat’s ability to sail upwind. I didn’t always reach the target location. My failures taught me to plan realistically and to better read weather and water.

I loved the beautiful wild places my boats could take me, and fell in love with the challenge of traveling there without the option of mechanical power. Camping ashore further enriched the experience. Eventually sailing became almost a means to an end. The journey and destination took precedence. 

Over time, I experimented with various fiberglass dinghies. Most were fun to sail, but had tall, stayed masts, deep rudders and centerboards, required a ramp to launch, and took time to rig. These production boats were not fit for chasing spawning gar up the creek until the creek becomes a trickle so shallow that the only fish remaining are chubs and stone rollers. That is my idea of bliss. Mostly unconcerned with speed or performance, I yearned for a coarser vessel—a boat you could launch anywhere, sail anywhere, and drive right up to shore on a whim. If it existed, it was uncommon. I figured maybe I could build it.

With a little research I discovered that building such a boat was feasible for the layman. A sharpie type was just the ticket. The Twelve didn’t emerge over night. She lay at the end of a lengthy experimentation and learning process spanning several years. Following a series of cheaply constructed “practice” builds, I thought I’d finally gotten it right when I completed a fifteen-foot lug-rigged skiff loosely based on information in Reuel Parker’s The Sharpie Book. Its flat-bottomed work boat simplicity gave me a taste of the impulsive beach landings and creek crawling adventures I craved. Her completion marked the debut of my Cumberland Rover YouTube channel where I share my experiences afloat on the Cumberland River and surrounding regional waters.

Still a cherished member of my fleet to this day, I regard the fifteen as a valuable tool in my kit. Despite many positive attributes, she’s on the heavy side which means she’s not as easy to row as I originally hoped. She also has to be trailer launched, preventing access to many small remote waters. Not yet satisfied, I envisioned a boat even further stripped down—something almost canoe-like, but more substantial. I wanted a traditional sail-and-oar skiff that functioned like a real sailing boat and fit in my back pocket. It’s true, I could have selected an existing, proven design from someone who actually knows what they’re doing, but I’m hardheaded. I knew exactly the features I wanted in a pint sized skiff. There was no need to hunt for plans that precisely matched my criteria. I would take a direct approach, designing the boat to my own specs.

Finally, the twelve-foot micro skiff was born. Purpose built for short range, shallow-water excursions, she’s a scaled down sharpie created for scaled down voyages. She makes adventure accessible. Designing her, I sought just the right combination of utility as a portable recreational boat, and ease of construction. I wanted to reduce the skiff nearly to its barest form. She was delightfully simple to construct because she had to be. I’m far from a highly skilled builder (or a highly skilled anything), just persistent.

The topsides are formed of a single 1 x 12 x 12 pine plank per side, making the skiff as easy to board and exit as a canoe. To ease construction and reduce weight, there are no chine logs. The bottom is screwed and glued directly to the topside planking. Because of my low tolerance for goop work, the skiff was constructed entirely with fasteners and a little construction adhesive—no glass, no epoxy.

For what you might call sentimental reasons, I strive to maximize solid wood parts when possible. To me, this gives the boat a soul. It just feels different. You experience a boat differently that’s constructed with real solid wood fiber rather than predominantly plywood. There are performance and cost issues with solid wood, but I don’t care. To me, it’s the only way to build. Not everyone shares my attitude, and that’s ok. 

Despite solid wood planking, the Twelve is surprisingly lightweight, in part due to low slung topsides and a thin plywood bottom. (I’ve learned my lesson on the solid wood cross-planked bottom. That’s a no-go for any boat that doesn’t live on the water all season.) Minimizing weight is critical to portability, which was a priority for this build.

The skiff can be handily launched from the bed of my Ford Ranger. This feature is frequently showcased on my Cumberland Rover YouTube channel. Occasionally a dolly or roller is needed to cover the last few feet from the truck to the water’s edge, depending on terrain.

For a day’s outing I must launch within a reasonable distance of the target destination. This often requires a little 4-wheeling to reach an undeveloped site on LBL or TVA public lands. Rather than dealing with the hassle and uncertainty of dragging a trailer down a muddy, uneven Jeep trail, it’s easier to haul the boat in the bed with the tailgate down. She fits nicely between the wheel wells and doesn’t hang out excessively past the bumper.        

Scale sometimes doesn’t translate well through my YouTube videos. My wide angle lens used for on-vessel shots often makes the skiff look larger than she really is. She is 11 feet, 11 inches overall, 36 inches abeam in the bottom, and 43 inches rail to rail—a very small boat. Any craft longer than 12 feet is too long to be practically hauled in the 6-foot bed of my Ranger. In my experience, anything shorter is not likely to perform well. A moderate beam and a flat bottom provide a compromise between initial stability for standing up to fish, and good rowing characteristics. There’s enough room for me to sit reasonably comfortably on the bottom planking when sailing, typically on a basic portable cushion. 

Some may find the Twelve’s performance under sail lacking, but I’m convinced simplicity is joy when it comes to boats. The skiff’s rig is about the simplest you can imagine. She sports a very compact lug sail originally designed for the Mill Creek Kayak. A minuscule 31-square-feet of canvas is just enough to drive her along steadily in medium air. She could do with more sail, but not much. We are talking about an open skiff with canoe-like free board. The lack of built-in floatation calls for a little extra caution. Excluding the option of hoisting too much canvas helps keep me out of trouble. Although, given enough time on the water, I eventually find it. Generally, I don’t sail this skiff closer than a beam reach, and typically not even that. Most often, the sail is used to get downwind, and the oars back upwind. Most unrefined, I know.

If you can stomach a tiny bit of exertion, the combination of sail with oars make a little boat like the Twelve highly mobile. Few angles are off limits. Even a high-performance sloop will struggle to tack out of the confined waters I frequent. Excessively shifty winds can make the task maddening. Rowing is the solution. Due to narrowish beam and relative lightness, my twelve rows easily, even into a moderate swell. This is a huge asset to my primitive, neanderthal theory of navigation: “Sail downwind. Row upwind. No sail into wind.” Facing forward, straddling the trunk, the skiff is also narrow enough to be paddled like a canoe. I sometimes use this technique when crawling up narrow feeder creeks. The smallest woodland streams permit only poling with an oar.

Perfectly adapted to flats sailing and poling up small creeks, her true draft is comparable to that of a canoe or kayak. Rudder and skeg add a few inches, but are well worth having. The skeg maintains straight line tracking when rowing and increases lateral resistance when sailing, though tacking would be improved without it. A skilled helmsman may ditch the rudder for an oar slung over the transom for extreme shallow water sailing. This skipper has yet to hone that skill.

Going ashore for a jaunt under dense canopies of oak and hickory or along rocky river banks is an intrinsic part of my waterborne wanderings. Rocker in the bottom makes beach landings effortless. You never get wet feet (if you don’t want to). Taking a step aft just before grounding-out causes the bow to rise and land high on the bank. Adventure awaits just a short step over the gunnel. In the presence of breaking waves or high winds, I will make off the painter to a tree before venturing off on foot. Otherwise, I simply pull her up a few feet on shore, and she remains wherever I park her.

Though she’s designed to be sailed on protected waters during a single day’s outing, I will occasionally run along the shoreline of Barkley or Kentucky Lake for a short distance to reach the nearest bay or cove. This means traversing more open water. Kentucky Lake (a manmade reservoir) is the largest body of water within my stomping grounds. Two miles across at its widest point, its surface spans over 250 square miles. Conditions can become very rough for little boats like mine. I’m cautious about venturing out to big water in this baby skiff, even just off the mouth of a bay. Testing the skiff’s abilities, I camped out of her a couple times this past spring, crossing several small bays on Lake Barkley and covering some kilometers.    

On the first trip I encountered conditions I would have previously considered too heavy for the diminutive craft, but she pulled through without much drama. There was one incident with some funky waves that had my hand a little shaky on the tiller, but the baby skiff didn’t bat an eye. All that said, I still try to avoid unnecessary risk when it comes to weather and rough water. I’m not opposed to a little action and excitement, but my style of sailing is mainly about peace and connection with nature, not speed or thrill seeking.

The twelve-foot baby skiff has a special place in my fleet. Evident from my YouTube upload history, she has become my go-to boat of the moment. Though less than a year old, we have traversed many miles together, and even spent a couple nights under the stars. She’s a handy little thing, requiring minimal preparation and making no fuss. I can throw her in the truck and go. Three minutes to rig, and we’re off. She’s the farthest thing from high performance, but flawlessly adapted to her task. Almost no backwater is off limits, no creek too shallow, no launch area too remote. Of the boats I’ve owned so far, I’m inclined to say this little skiff is probably the most fun.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider joining me on YouTube for a virtual tour of my unique stomping grounds—Land Between the Lakes, The Cumberland and Tennessee River Valleys, and surrounding waters. I have published over 100 videos sharing my experiences afloat, and continue to release videos weekly. Of these, almost half feature the twelve reviewed in this article. Others feature my home-built fifteen-foot skiff and my O’day Ospray. Rather than the prevailing jabbering face on a screen method, most of my videos are in the pattern of a more contemplative documentary style featuring uncut sailing footage and natural scenery. Focused on boating, adventure, and beautiful wild places, my channel is all about getting outdoors and doing stuff. I aim to inspire my audience to do the same. Hope to see you there! •SCA•

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Nick has kindly offered to giveaway two of his Cumberland Rover sail pennants—one split tail and one swallow tail. Please write “Interested” in the comments section below and two winners will be chosen at random.