Beyond the Stars

   The process is a sacrifice for the tree, but when given an opportunity, it goes far beyond it's original destiny...
   I am reminded of an old Same' (Pronounced Saw Mee) legend of the boy who when kiting one evening caught his kite on a star. He pulled it down, to learn that it was the original Star of Bethlehem. In conversing with the star, and his village being in desperate need, the Star agreed to remain and help the village through the winter, but come the spring it would need to return to the heavens or it would die. As the boy and his sister were now orphans, and in serious need themselves, he agreed. The village prospered from their association with the Star, who related the teachings of the Lord to them and admonished them to follow those teachings towards a better way of life.
   The boy recorded those teachings, then to his credit, set up the kite to sail the star back into the Heavens as agreed. He and his sister had matured much during this winter visit, and opportunities had opened that he desperately wanted his sister to enjoy. But she refused to abandon her brother.

   Knowing that he was needed to be her comfort and guide in a capacity far beyond himself, he gave her the book that held the record of what he had learned from the Star. Then as the Star sailed into the Heavens, he gave her his love, and, attaching the trailing cord to his wrist, sailed into the heavens with the star. In this way he could be with her wherever she went, and to this day, riding behind the star Mizar of the constellation Ursa Major, is the tiny star Alcor, also known as "the Rider".

   So I find myself pondering the role of this slender piece of wood, set into the framework of a much larger pattern of structure, as it sails just behind the larger knee of the byforcated bow in the overall structure of the kayaq. It's gentle sweeping curve rises into the cockpit as a line of sight, where I will be able from my position in the boat to power and guide the vessel through the sea.

   Tried in the heat of boiling water and bent carefully into place, it now rests as it cures into the shape it's position and structural integrity demand of it.

   And in this position, once set into place with it's ties intricately weaving it into the rest of the Kayaq's framework, will it serve not only as an essential part of the upper forward "backbone" of the vessel, but as a navigational guide as well.

   Gentle, straight, and supple, this simple piece of curving spruce is every bit as essential to the boat as the keel.

   And every bit as important as the stars to guide me.
-WKD

   Wooden boat builders are called wood butchers for a very good reason...

This was a tree...



   

Maine Awaking

   Mists over the mirror, drifting across
   The gently rippling waves of morning
                                                      as
   a kaleidoscope along the coastline is unveiled
                                                      from behind
   the curtains of the breaking day.
   The woods of the increasing brilliance radiate a myriad palate, color
                                                                                         streaming
   Intensifying, glowing through a dazzling dawning light.
   An autumn day awakening along the coastline of my reality,
                                                                        a dream
   that has at last come true.
   Warmth in Nature's age, seals peeking from beneath a fluid film,
                                                                 graceful sliding along
                                                                 the caressing element of
                                              their home.

   And mine.

   Good morning.

-WKD

Life and Legacy

   It has been said that to error is human - but it takes a computer to really foul things up. Such was the situation for quite some time in our more remote region of Maine - our service area was disrupted for over a week, until someone finally answered the inquiries of their customers with something more than an automated service message, and the connections were re-routed. So, an entry that was ready weeks ago is finally having an opportunity to come forward. I apologize to those who have been following this web log, and hope to continue uninterrupted.
   Seclusion, however, isn't all bad, as I remember a warm summer day with my father in 1959, as we were running our 32 foot limit seiner down Kachemak Bay outside of Homer, Alaska. I was seven at the time, and couldn't see another boat anywhere for miles around. 
   My Dad has a way of making even the most challenging prospects inviting, as he offered the wheel of the boat to me. "We're headed into that bay ahead," he explained, " so just keep her going ahead and we'll be fine. I'm going on deck to get the lines ready." And with that, he stepped down from the bridge to the aft deck and started coiling together some extra line.
   I'll never forget the experience of standing behind the wheel, barely able to see over it, on top of the bridge cabin overlooking the sunlit bay running before me. With the open air breezes gently nudging my hair, I couldn't help but thrill to the throbbing engine and the deck moving in a gradual roll beneath my feet. It was an experience unlike anything I had ever enjoyed in my young life, and it was just me and my Dad together doing it.
   He left me up there for some time, knowing as I didn't that we had all the sea room we needed to stay out of trouble. I know now from my own experiences at sea, that he was working where he always had visual of the waters ahead, as well as his son above him on the bridge. He was allowing my experience to be as fulfilling as possible, without being too far away in case something unpredictable happened. 
   When he did come back up to take the wheel, he thanked me and told me I had done a good job keeping the boat on course. I knew my Dad never said anything he didn't mean, and felt wonderful for his praise. 
   Then he smiled and said, " Before you go below, take a look behind you."
   I did, and will never forget what I saw - the trailing wake of the boat was a very pronounced zig-zag, as if I was a convoy skipper trying to dodge torpedoes! In my youthful inexperience, I was over correcting my course with each swing of the wheel, not understanding that the boat steered from the stern - not the bow from which I stood, as an automobile would. 
   Dad was still smiling as he took in my expression, which clearly indicated my surprise. I will never forget the council he offered, that through the years has always stood me well. " It's not the wake that matters, son," he said, "as long as you stay on course. Keep the boat going in the direction she needs to go, and the years will give you your sea legs. You'll do fine." 
   Now I'm 61, and he will be 83 in a few more days. He still swings up into the cockpit of my daughter Sariah's White Freightliner Tractor with ease, and keeps the town he's been Mayor of for more years than I remember running like a well oiled machine. His council is still just as solid for me now as it was when I was a boy, and I thank God he's my Dad. He's always believed in me, and that's a gift worth more than gold.
   So, I still live my life with the sea, and build boats like I'm doing now, from warships years before to my Kayaq now, and building or restoring about anything else in between. It keeps the memories alive, and breathes the life into what I do for those who will live after me. And pray to do it well enough to honor the man who still believes in me. 
   Thank you, Dad.

   So the project continues, as the steam box is finally finished and put into service. Frames have their lengths in marking pen written on the end, so there's no mistake as to where in the boat they go, to be bent into place. 

   Then the fire is lit, the water in the tank below it brought to a rolling boil, and after the frames are hot, which for something as small as these are, take no more than 20 to 30 minutes - too long, and the steam dries them out - they are pulled, one at a time, and carefully bent into place within the framework of the boat. Steam bent frames only give you about one to two minutes max to work them into place before they cool and stiffen, so even as carefully as you work each frame, you must work quickly.

   But the reward is a gratifying give of the frame into the shape of her future, a living material formed into the rib of a living creature. The first frame goes into place, and she comes closer to her destiny as the creature of the sea she has been conceived to be. 

   Winter in Maine can be unforgiving, and the temps are dropping now into freezing at night often enough to warrant concern. But the shop is warm with the wood stove crackling in a lively way, and Keilidgh Irene coming closer to her summer form. 

   She will live.

-WKD