The outside deck line is created with the 1″ x 1.5″ long molding called the sheer line. The next step is creating the inner trim line which defines the deck and the seating space. The blue tape seen below left is first visual experiment.

For the molding, I picked a 12 ft. piece of straight grain cherry. Granted, it is not the world’s first pick for boat building wood, but it is available, of medium density, and works superbly. I also had plenty on my wood rack so I decided to “shop local.”

To make a 22 ft. continuous molding, I had to splice two pieces with a 20 inch long scarf joint. It goes the full distance of the paper below. By making it long, it allows basically the same bending characteristics as the other solid pieces.

The left side is shown with the long molding ready to install. The nails and string show the refinement of the line, and allows a visual inspection to see if it follows a regular or “fair” curve.

It passed muster and served to position the cutout notches. They were cut with a hand saw, chisel and rasp, as needed to seat the molding the right height and along the curve.

The most difficult notch was the front, which did not go all the way through. I cut as far as possible with the Japanese pull stroke handsaw (bought at Menards).

Necessity is the mother of invention, so I figured the drill might do as well as hammering with a chisel on the white oak front frame.

Then a bit of the easier vertical chopping to take out waste.

And the half mortise was ready to final fit.

After the curve of the entire runner was micro adjusted to suit the eye, it was bent into the notches and bonded with epoxy. It becomes a visual line and a strength element, and the structural organizer for all of the interior spaces.

The umteenth step of the impossible journey is done but a seemingly endless list awaits. Tomorrow . . .

The end of the story from the last post is shown below, as I am tuning up the final angle where the sheer log meets the bow. It may look simple enough, but hanging on to a screaming body grinder at a precise angle with 36 grit paper is no casual task. I could have used a saw and a file, but, if the edge is visible and there is room to move, it is the fastest and most direct path toward completion.

I have long wondered what built by hand means, but if it is anything beyond shaping something strictly with your fingers, then this concentrated, practiced effort has to qualify also. Taming the body grinder is on par with training our Boxer dog Buck.

He never was fond of the leash, and pulled continually toward the next interesting scent or dead treasure. We always had to be prepared for the surprising and potentially injurious jerk, should any rabbit or any other animal jump to flee.

The grinder can be a lot like that dog. It pulls, it whines, it catches and jerks, all the time requiring it be handled with gentle pressure. But if it is mastered, it pulls as hard and fast as an Iditarod sled dog.

Those long sheer logs or moldings are now faired, and assembled into the framework of the boat. Now, it allows the imagination to go down the road a ways, as the 3D shape is coming into view.

The line where the top of the boat meets the side is called the sheer line by traditional builders. It is never straight, and is a defining shape of the personality of the boat. Sometimes it starts high in front, to cut the big waves, and comes down in the middle perhaps for rowing or fishing. This beautiful rowboat shows that reverse sheer.

My speedboat on the other hand, will not be battling such severe weather, but will need great visibility forward at all times. In this case, it has a positive sheer line, lower at the front to see across, and higher in the cockpit area for seating comfort and wind protection.

The line always curves inward toward the front, and the whole shape must be “fair,” a beautiful shape. Fairing a curve means making the shape flow with out hills or valleys. Lumpy does not make a winner. The best help for a good curve is a slender board long enough to go the full distance, thin enough to make a consistent bend, and thick enough to resist distortion between supports.

I chose a piece of cherry, and sized it to 7/8″ x 1-1/2″, and then had to splice together 2 twelve foot pieces to make 20 ft. As noted in the last post, the first one broke under the pressure of bending. I picked a straighter grained piece, thinned it a little, and started over. Below is the scarf joint, angled over 14″ so when glued, it will behave mostly like a solid original piece.

Then, the process begins by cutting a notch at the corner of one cross frame, and gradually fitting the sheer log in place. The photo below shows starting in the middle, using a bungee cord to hold it and then going on the next frame. Not a step to rush, as it will be examined, praised and criticized ad infinitum should this boat ever get on the water.

My friend Stan Oyer asked if there is a point in boat building when you have to give up the tight tolerances of levels, angle guides, and tape measures. Yep, and this is another of those many times. Below, I spring clamped two straight sticks to the extended sheer molding, just to see if the angle is similar side to side. I did not measure, or level up, but just got back and looked at the two sides from a couple of angles. My conclusion is that they are beautifully compatible, if not perfect.

On to the seat framework coming up . . . You are never lost until you are out of time.