The rivers help, however, with their discharge of anything that falls in, and with their amplification of the currents can distribute driftwood considerable distances.
One learns quickly to utilize as effectively as possible anything available to survive, as the small bone harpoon head on my desk testifies. In the Arctic, as with any other remote survival circumstances, you live by the rules, and you fight to win.
Traditionally, then, one uses the best you can get to make things work - just because bone, ivory and stone where used before, didn't stop the native inhabitants from seeing the obvious benefits of iron and steel tools, and rifles over harpoons. They wisely kept the wisdom of their past, by adapting to the future. And they've done a far better job at it than most cultures have.
Some techniques have proven themselves over time, and have advantages not to be forgotten when you really consider what you are up against there. Even today, you can easily find yourself hundreds of miles from the nearest human being, not to mention civilization. So if anything goes wrong, to put it right you either have it, make it, or do without it to keep going. Things can get brutally simple sometimes.
So survival designing the ice maiden for her home environment is more than just building a traditional boat. What we are about is what makes a Kayaq unique, and becomes who and what she is as a creature of the sea. You can't just think of that casual weekend paddle - there's nothing casual about paddling the Arctic. One paddler who wrote about his paddle there openly admitted getting out of the water when the waves got knee high. I can't fault him, really, though if one's experience and ability is that limited they really shouldn't be there in the first place. The survival fact is he recognized his limitations, and wasn't foolish enough to push them. So, bottom line, he survived. And that's the name of the game.
Come back alive. Period.
So, with that thought in mind, the process of creating life begins with life. Which requires a name, as my children have, and so must she. When originally planned as a double, since my Wife Kim and I didn't have a canoe at the time, she was more like a Norse Dragon ship. When Kim and I started to restore the cedar canoe for our trips together, however, she suggested that I allow myself the privilege of creating the Kayaq I've wanted to build for years, but have been unable to. As a result, the Dragon Ship slimmed down, and the mentality of her purpose changed with her. She's become a peaceful joy for my family memories, and a hope for our future. So, now she has a name.
Keilidgh Irene.
Having a name gives life to something that otherwise becomes an object, and is treated like one. If you are going to stay alive with what you have, you cannot afford to get that casual. You don't want to get stupidly possessive, but you do want to treat what you have with respect, and consider anything and everything possible that you could encounter, and how to deal with it.
If you have a tendency to treat your Kayaq more as a living creature than as an object or tool, you'll be more careful with her, and think out her needs so she can continue to function through anything you may encounter together, much more thoroughly. Because as long as she stays alive, you do.
That simple.
Back to design, then. Tradition has been wood, and in this case, the frame will also be wood. It is more readily available for repairs out there, can often be reconstructed with what you have on hand - fire, water, a knife and some string - and can be worked with your hands. Keep it simple.
And since she will be smaller now, I can utilize either an aluminum shell for the hull, which is light and resistant to the abrasion of salt ice as well as the beach compositions, or to a ballistic cloth, which is tough, flexible even in extreme cold and wet weather, and can be repaired quickly in even remote circumstances. Both are simple, strong and seaworthy.
No metal as fastenings, except where as in the case of the aluminum shell the tig welding is required. Today's nylon and synthetic cords are as tough or better than metal fastenings, won't work loose in a seaway, and can be worked, again, by hand. For something this small, metal fastenings are a needless complication, especially as the ties are protectively enclosed within the kayaq's shell.
Where pins are needed to align and fasten larger units, tree nails do the job very well, which are wooden pins fashioned for the purpose. They are inserted snugly into the holes drilled for their use, the pieces are formed tightly together, then a wedge is inserted in the slots cut into each end of the pin, and driven into the pins across the grain until solid. Then they are cut off even with the surface of the pieces joined. When done with care, and the appropriate woods are used for the purpose, they hold every bit as well as any metal fastening, though carefully especially in building boats due to the need for the care in aligning the grain of the wood properly to prevent shearing, or snapping apart, the wood under stress. With metal, even a novice can plunk a metal shaft in a hole and tighten a nut to the bolt. Some will even remember the washers.
One thing I do use in the joiner work of the end pieces is a marine sealant, such as is produced by 3M company, such as 5200 or the like. The sealant works as an adhesive to glue the joints together in a flexible bond, and once clamped together, will dry forming the joints into one solid unit without the abrasion of dry wood to wood joints. The ties are more likely to stay tight and hold their structure together better, while still able to work with a seaway and not come apart. I usually only use it for the larger end pieces that see the most working stress and impact, which enables a quicker and easier repair of the smaller frames, etc. as they can be more easily removed and replaced. But the choice is up to the builder. I would rather not have to try and carve that sealant out of a hole once it's dried. Just working with it on surface joints is hard enough.
Then the frame, once locked together as a tied unit, is ready for the covering, as mentioned in previous articles. When ready to sew the fabric cover on, you'll want to have a sailor's palm handy. You'll need it.
Each phase of the design, every piece of wood, every stitch in the covering, bonds you with the creature you are creating. She has life because of you, she will live for you, and you will stay alive because she will fight for you. But only as well as you care for her. That's why there's more to it than just the name. You give her a name, then she has an identity.
And a place in your family.
Then, when you are out there, you aren't alone any more.
You're still together, as a Family.
And believe me, sometimes that simple fact can make all the difference, between living and trying, or giving up and dying.
Been there, done that.
Welcome to the Family, Keilidgh Irene.
-WKD
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