Lately, what slowed my Bartender restoration progress down was the Swine Flu. It is tough to get work done laying on your back on your sofa. I haven’t been stuck at home during the week for years. Wow, ESPN can really drive something into the ground. I got better and borrowed a heat gun from a friend to aid in removing the fiberglass sheathing on the hull of the boat. The right tool definitely makes a difference:

Plugging away.

This Halloween I decided no one shall alight upon my porch without getting a bit of subliminal propaganda:

Oregon Coast:  It has been a rough few years for chinook fishing.  The first year of the great collapse I only made a couple trips and caught five fish.  The second year of the collapse I hooked up every trip but only landed coho.  This year has been the toughest.  I haven’t caught anything, of course, I haven’t salmon fished at all.  Nada.  Not one trip. 

It has been difficult not salmon fishing.  It’s what I do and the salmon are a big part of the reason I want to stay in Oregon.  Salmon fishing is ingrained and wrapped up in my identity.  It’s who I am. 

But, the runs are still down.  They are up from where they were but still below escapement goals.  While ocean conditions are largely to blame for the recent precipitous collapse, angling pressure doesn’t help anything.  Ocean conditions show signs of improving but think of  this, the more smolts make it to sea, all things equal, the more adults return.  If we harvest fish now, the runs won’t bounce back as quickly or as high in the next few years as we dig out of this hole. 

If you do fish chinook this year, consider letting anything go that isn’t seriously chrome.  Consider catch and release fishing anyway.  But if you do fish and you do harvest, well, I’m not judging-it’s who we are after all. 

As for me, I might take a coho trip or two somewhere where we are allowed to fish for them.

With my Man-Paradise complete I have been able to turn my attention again towards working on the boat . . . .

I drilled out the bungs and removed the mahogany trim and the gunwhale:

This was not easy, but a breaker bar and deadblow hammer did the trick.  The gunwhale is too far gone to be reused in any capacity. It will be replaced by new wood of a yet undetermined species.  White oak is relatively affordable, durable and available. 

As for the other trim, I have decided against using it as it was and instead I am going to use it for my windscreen. I think it will be a cleaner look and more importantly won’t trap water.  As it was, it collected water and I found an area of wet rot. I gouged the rot out and then sanded with a drum sander until I reached good wood:

I wanted to open up the rear bulkhead as well so I could se what was going on in there. That area is going to need a substantial rebuild:

I have begun removing the outer sheathing of fiberglass from the hull. The fir marine plywood is nice and of a quality you can’t readily buy anymore:

Removing the sheathing led to the discovery that there is wet rot in the spray rail.  So, my plan now is simply to replace the spray rail and battens in their entirety. We’ll see . . . . The plan has to constantly evolve. This brings me to a couple observations about restoration projects.

First of all, don’t get married to your plan or any particular pieces of wood. Your plan has to evolve as you discover new challenges. Secondly, I absolutely detest ringshank nails. Why anyone would use them in place of screws is beyond me. Needless to say, everything replaced will be adhered with screws, after all, they are removable.

Over the years I have had intermittent cravings for a boat to get me into the ocean, where all the salmon are bright and lingcod and halibut patrol the rocky reefs.  Seeing the damage Nate has been doing offshore turned this occaisonal craving to a full time obssession.  I have to get out there.

Just like with my drift boat, I decided I could get more boat for the money if I  custom built rather than  bought a production boat.  Now, what to build?  I knew I really wanted a Bartender, a seaworthy craft indigenous to the Pacific Nortwest designed to cross rough river bars and bring you home safely that even served as Coast Guard search and rescue boats in our waters for many years and have migrated to Australia and anywhere else with rough ocean conditions.

But, I also knew the Bartender would be expensive to build and I was looking for economy and settled on a Nexus Planing dory.  Built in an open configuration it would be economical to build.  Being of very limited offshore experience I checked in with the crew at Wooden Boat Forum to get their thoughts and explained my intended uses.  Now, I added as a caveat that no one should mention the Bartender. 

Well, someone mentioned that they knew where there was a Bartender, that had never been finished and was free to a good home and would I be interested?  Yes, I might be interested.  We corresponded for a few weeks and I received these daunting images:

But, the gentleman assured me that for the price, the boat was in excellent condition and as far as he could tell had no major defects, meaning rot. I decided to go for it and cruised down to San Francisco, spending the night with old friends before venturing further south to Santa Cruz where I bought a cheap trailer that ended up fitting the boat perfectly.

The next stop was the Davenport Mill to actually extract the boat from where it had been stored upside down for about twenty years. It was quite a chore to get the hull out but with some finessing and finageling she was on the trailer by the early afternoon:

Tragically, the trailer winch was discovered to be defect so I had to head back to Santa Cruz and buy a new one. After a few hours of dealing with those logistics I was ready at 6:30 pm for the long road home and therein was a problem: did I drive the long road home through the night or stop somewhere short of home? In the end I elected to drive the whole way. A couplke fitful hours of sleep in the Ram didn’t seem like they would help much.

I got home at 7:30 am, slept for a couple hours and got right to work cleaning up the boat. I scrubbed the exterior for sanity’s sake and she didn’t look horrible anymore:

Next I turned my attention to the interior of the hull and even that didn’t look to shabby with a bit of elbow grease:

Unfortunately but understandably, Shelly put the kabosh on any chemical work in the garage and I was sent scrambling for a suitable shop, aka Man-Habitat in which to work. I got lucky again, finding that my coworker had just purchased a country property that had been foreclosed. The shop neeed a ton of work but would be free to me if I cleaned it up. The previous owner had a metal shop there and his disposal technique involved dumping steel cuttings and slag on the ground. I had to clean that up-it wasn’t exactly tire friendly:

The slag piles and steel made gravel and stone seem light. I removed it half a bucketload at a time and loaded the Ram down. You know you are dealing with some nasty stuff when employees at the dump question what you are up to but ultimately the supervisor gave me the go ahead. Next, I brought in a couple cubic yards of gravel to cover the cleared section and bury any tire mauling steel scraps I might have missed, overloading the Ram with one yard per trip and fretting the whole way in. But, she performed like a champ and the shop was ready to receive the boat:

So now, I am done working on the shop to work on the boat and now am again in the process of restoring the boat. I removed some trim that was too far gone and the port gunwhale:

The boat is mostly solid but I plan on replacing all or nearly all the frames to be on the safe side as well as rebuilding the motor well and reglassing the hull . Other than that, it is a matter of custom finishing the boat exactly how I want her. By next salmon season I hope to be trolling the open ocean.

It’s fishable. The deck and brace have been fabricated, sanded sealed and installed. I’m going to have to remove everthing and take it apart one more time to really get the horns solid. I slapped it back together for a guide trip. But the new carriage bolts are not, repeat, are not going to let the deck go flying out of there again.

Whenever I need to repair something on my wooden driftboat I write about it. I have a fantasy that maybe some poor soul will find it useful.

I’ve been monitoring Wooden Boat People and the Wooden Boat Forum jealously watching all the work everyone has been doing on their boats just wishing something would go wrong with my drift boat and I would have the pleasure of having to repair something. OK, not really.

The only thing I like less in the fishing/boating world than working on my wooden boat is a noisy, hot, sticky, tin scow or a stinky, round chined chunk of styrene. Hey, they are great for some people but just aren’t my thing. I like wooden boats and don’t mind working on them, the kvetching above notwithstanding. I think the ability to build and repair your own boats, much like tying your own flies, makes you a more complete angler.

Well, on my way to the Umpqua last weekend I made a rest stop and noticed to my horror that the fly line deck cross brace (dashboard, if you will) was laying on the bottom of the boat, the slot that actually receives the brace was missing a chunk and the fly line deck was gone. It has almost happened before, it has toggled loose plenty of times and once the fly line deck even happened to fly on out of the boat, I just happened to see it. The brace has been held in place (speaking euphamistally) by a bolts with a knob that screw into female claw feet:

This set up sucks. They do it in case you want to play babushka doll, stacking a couple of driftboats on one trailer. Ostensibly, the knobs make deck removal easy and save you about five minutes of hastle . . . Or they cause you a week or so of hastle by failing miserably in their assigned task. You make the call.

When i first built the boat, I was loathe to change anything, lacking the confidence to make any improvements on the original design. Years later, I recognized the need for a change but didn’t want to incur the time or expense of an improvement unless I had to.

Well, I had to. The deck is gone so while I was at it, I bought a new piece of lumber for the cross brace (I didn’t want the old bolt holes showing nor did I much care for the fit of the other brace. This time, I went with quarter sawn white oak instead of flat sawn white oak. The wood was purchased at Urban Lumber Co. for a great price–a cool business with a ethic I can get behind. Anyway, I fabbed up the new brace:

I fixed the slotted deck receiver with some epoxy:

Next, the bolt holes in the ribs from the previous set-up were filled with wood flour and epoxy. This is a good technique for filling wood. Basically, sand down a scrap of the same species that you are tryng to fill, collect the sawdust and mix it with a two-part epoxy until it is the consistenty of peanut butter and fill in whatever void or hole you need to fill. Allow it a day to cure and sand accordingly:

I also finshed filling a crack in a rib that happened during construction. I had filled it with epoxy to prevent further splitting but hadn’t filled the top of the void. It doesn’t stand out as much as it does in this pic:

The next, and by far the most diffcult order of business was fabricating a new deck. I’ve misplaced my plans and had to come up with the deck from scratch. I tried my best to make a pattern using cardboard. This was laborious. When I got something that was about right, I transferred it to a sheet of ply, cut the deck and the sanded, fit, sanded, fit, sanded, fit until I had it right.

The deck has been stained to match the rest of the boat:

Now, the only thing left to do is to poly coat the deck and while I’m at it I’m going to giver her her annual refinishing. Why not?

If you are like me, you like to geek out on fish population data, spawning escapement estimates and all of that good stuff. If you like to do this, you probably know how hard it is to find the information you crave. One of the best sources is ODFW’s data clearinghouse where you can search by keyword to your heart’s content–you just might not like what you find.

I didn’t get skunked–let’s get that out of the way but I didn’t exactly light the river up either.

I fished the Middle Fork Willamette near Oakridge this past Saturday evening. At about 7:00 there were fair amounts of caddis coming off and the fish were eating those sparingly. The real hatch happened around dark. Thick with PED’s, the fish wanted no part of my offerings. I didn’t observe any Green Drakes and only a few Golden Stones. Strangely, despite the heat the water was painfully cold– colder than it has been recently.

I’ll get ‘em next time.

As many of you know, I also write for the Oregon Fly Fishing blog–one of nation’s top fly fishing blogs in terms of traffic and the very best in content. I might be a wee bit biased. Recently, I made my tying debut demonstrating how to tie a Light Cahill dry. It was a little nerve wracking tying in front of all those people. And for those of you who may be wondering, yes my shirt is inside out–and it was intentional. Check it out: The Light Cahill