Progressing Backwards

The lightly glassed plywood outboard pods, aft of the second main crossbeam, were fitted on Saturday and work on this central section of the wing-deck should be completed by Tuesday. Aft of this, where the Tiki 38's distinctive (but, to my eyes, ugly) steering pod would usually be, the deck will be flush – similar to the foredeck, hardwood slats will be divided by a central box beam and tabernacle to support the mast on the abbreviated third crossbeam. A steering pedestal will also be positioned on this central beam.

Above: The outboard pods/cockpit seats positioned between the crossbeams. Photo by Raoul Bianchetti.

Not So Different

The levelling of the hulls and positioning of the main crossbeams made it possible to think of the two separate hulls as one vessel. Now, with the completion of the first third of the wing-deck a sense of the vessel's dimensions and even its character are emerging. Despite the design modifications to the hulls – more displacement, elimination of the 'knees' as a result of strip-plank composite construction, and increased camber to the decks – she is essentially still a Wharram 'double canoe'.

Neither Raoul nor I are happy with the hardwood crossbeam end caps and cleats so the cleats will be sawn off and new ones made. These will be positioned a few millimetres inboard of the hardwood end caps and bolted down through the beam. However, this job, and a score of others, won't be tackled for a couple of weeks. For now, the narrow focus is on completing the wing-deck.

Above: Carpenters put the finishing touches to the completed foredeck. Photo by Raoul Bianchetti.

Walking The Planks

Hardwood planks were laid on the starboard side of the foredeck today, a patch of pale timber between the hull and mast tabernacle. The hardwood 'cheeks' of the bow roller were positioned over the centre of the forward-most crossbeam. By tomorrow, the rest of the foredeck will be laid and the carpenters will move aft of the second crossbeam to begin assembling the outboard pods and the recessed centre deck.

Sometime in the next couple of days, one of the rudders will be hung and temporarily laced to the stem so that the rudder's range of movement – and the fit between its heel and the skeg – can be checked. I suspect we'll have to round the leading edges of both rudders but Raoul is confident that any adjustments will be minor.

Above: The first hardwood deck planks are laid on the red cedar composite supportin structure. Photo by Raoul Bianchetti.

Rudderless

I think Raoul put off working on the rudders because he needed to get his head around Wharram's unique method of 'lacing' or lashing them to the canoe stern. More than once he tried to convince me to adopt conventional, stainless steel gudgeons and pintles. Apart from being substantially heavier, these would have created a gap between the leading edge of the rudder and the hull, disturbing the flow of water away from the hulls, creating pockets of turbulence, and slowing the boat by as much as half a knot. I insisted on retaining the well-proven figure-of-eight lashing.

I began to wonder if Raoul had doubts about the structural integrity of the ends of the hull or the rudders – or worse – as a result of the non-standard use of strip-plank composite construction. I knew from being present during the planking and lay-up of both hulls as well as the shaping, in heavy Thai plywood, of both rudders that they were very strong but as time wore on, doubts nagged. I sent him as many close-up photos as I could find from other Tiki builds that had documented their approach to lashing the rudders, as well as excerpts from the Wharram-run owners' forum.

Finally, today, and with a deal of confidence, Raoul began routering, drilling, epoxying and re-drilling the holes for the lashings on both the hulls and the rudders.

Above: Close-ups of one of the hulls and its rudder, now almost ready to be 'laced' to it with non-stretch Spectra cordage. Photos by Raoul Bianchetti.

Figuring The Odds

This week, one of the carpenters working on the foredeck under-structure fell over two metres from one of the hulls to the concrete floor below. He suffered a cut on his head that took four stitches to close.

"I feel better that it's happened," Raoul told me when the carpenter returned to work the next day.

"Huh? The poor guy could have been badly hurt," I said.

"Sure – but he wasn't," he said, with obvious relief. "And now we've had the one accident that, statistically, we're supposed to have. Think of it as a stroke of good luck."

Above: The red cedar composite under-structure for the fore-deck and the longitudinal mast tabernacle beam are assembled. Photos by Raoul Bianchetti.

Bog Standard

As construction of the wing-deck progresses, there's still a lot of work going on inside the hulls, including painting, flooring and general finishing. This has been the most tedious and troublesome part of the build. It feels endless – and we've not yet begun wiring, plumbing or installing equipment.

I'm a fan of Neil Hawksford's blog documenting his 'home' construction of another Tiki 38, Gleda. I was among several who talked him out of installing the boat's 'head' in the after part of the main cabin and since then, I've been influenced by his thoughts on what type of toilet to install. I've changed my mind about having a traditional sea-water flushing unit, plumbed through the hull.

If I was going to be sailing mainly alone, I would probably make do with a bucket – or as Björn Wedel has aboard his Tiki 38, Maughidoo III, a helmsman's seat that lifts up to reveal a 'chute' through the wing-deck. However, I have three daughters ranging in age from nine to 20 who, I suspect, will insist on a minimum level of privacy so I'll fit a good quality chemical unit in the after section of the starboard hull. I might even borrow Neil's idea and fit it beneath a Victorian-style wooden seat, for added comfort.

I'm not as keen as Neil on installing waste holding tanks, mainly because I'm paranoid about weight. Leaving aside broader ecological arguments, a chemical toilet will meet the requirements of the few marinas in South-East Asia (most of which I plan to avoid).

Above and below: Painters, glassers, carpenters and even cleaners still populate the interior of both hulls.

Getting Decked

The cedar composite supporting structure for the fore-deck has almost been completed and will be assembled onboard by Monday or Tuesday. The hardwood slats will then be laid on top. Meanwhile, Raoul is studying my fairly rough drawing for a tabernacle for the main mast: derived from Wharram's design of the tabernacle for the fore mast, this will be part of a central beam extending aft from the short crossbeam between the coach-tops – which supports the main mast – and the after-most main crossbeam. With any luck, the first two sections of deck will be completed within the next couple of weeks.

Above: The after section of the starboard hull is prepared for he installation of a toilet

Sealand

Just before the week-long celebration of Songkran, I took some time out from working on the boat (and updating this blog) to write a short essay for the Cities On The Edge edition of the Griffith Review, a leading Australian academic journal published by ABC Books. Entitled Sealand, the essay examines current ideas about living and working in sustainable, self-reliant micro-communities on the high seas – something that Jerome FitzGerald (who is quoted in the article) and others refer to as seasteading.

The word, first coined in the '70s, is actually a catch-all term for two very different approaches. On the one hand, there's the 'traditional' seafarer, whose mobility and sporadic contact with the shore and other seafarers is somewhat akin to that of a terrestrial nomad. On the other, there's the sea-settler, who dreams of creating fixed platforms – in effect, artificial land – on the high seas. The sea-settler, who is not unlike the terrestrial pastoralist, wants to establish new 'territory' that, with modular development, can not only support a viable community with an independent economic structure but also become a sovereign 'micro-state'.

As I point out in the essay, conflict between these two approaches is inherent, just as it is between nomad and settler ashore. However, the independent-minded seafarer might still be sympathic to the "the idea of reconfiguring the autonomous island state as an anarchic or, at least, extra-national social, political and economic experiment, somewhat akin to the 'pirate utopias' described by American political writer, Peter Lamborn Wilson (alias Hakim Bey), in his 1995 book, Pirate Utopias: Moorish Corsairs And European Renegadoes: 'remote hideouts where ships could be watered and provisioned… some of these islands supported ‘intentional communities’, whole mini-societies living consciously outside the law and determined to keep it up, even if only for a short but merry life'."

Above: Components for the wing-deck and rig, faired and painted, await installation.

Gathering Way Again

As expected, Songkran took its toll on the yard's productivity last week. Thanks to Raoul's supervision, the Tiki 38 fared better than other builds, which lost all their crew to the Thai New Year celebrations (and post-party hangovers). Not unexpectedly, it took a little time for work to get back up to speed but today, there were several men and women aboard both hulls, painting the interior as well as components such as the outboard pods, tillers, and gaffs.

Next week, work will begin in earnest on assembling the bridge- or wing-deck (I prefer the latter term). We'll start with the foredeck, with its wide expanse of slatted hardwood decks supported by a red cedar composite structure, and when it's completed, we'll weight-test it to ensure that its strong enough before the rest of the wing-deck is built.

Above: (Top) The gaffs are filled and faired. (Bottom) The foredeck longitudinal beam and tabernacle, outboard boxes and bench lockers are faired and painted.

Never Mind The Quality, Feel The Width

In response to my query (see entry below) about the sail-cloth weight for which Rolly Tasker Sails quoted, the company's general manager, Mike Tasker, emailed the following:

In the UK, cloth weight is measured in ounces per yard run of cloth and the width of the cloth as milled is also a yard (in other words, weight is measured on a piece 36 inches by 36 inches). In the US, the weight is measured in ounces per yard run of cloth but the cloth is only 28½ inches wide (36 inches by 28½ inches). The result is an apparent discrepancy in weight between similar cloths of some 20 percent – or to put it another way, a 9oz. cloth in the UK is the approximate equivalent of a 7oz. cloth in North America.

Skeleton Crew

With Songkran in full swing, the RB Power & Sailing yards are officially closed but a skeleton crew is still hard at work on the Tiki 38. Today, the tillers were constructed in laminated strips of red cedar, then glassed. The outboard pods and the longitudinal beam and fore-mast step were faired so that all are now ready to take their first coats of paint tomorrow.

We received a quote a couple of days ago from Rolly Tasker Sails in Phuket for the mainsail and foresail, each with three rows of reefpoints, a working jib with one row of reefs, a staysail with one row of reefs, and a very small storm jib. Tasker's prices are significantly less than the English sailmaker Jeckells', even before shipping and duty are taken into account – but so are the sail-cloth weights they specified: 6oz. compared to Jeckell's 9oz. for the working sails and 12oz. for the storm jib (both suggested 1.5oz for a drifter).

I suspect Tasker is taking into consideration the very light winds that prevail in this part of the world but I think I'd prefer to increase the weight for the main, foresail and storm jib. If nothing else, the last needs to be cut flat, triple- or quadruple-stitched and bulletproof, right down to its hand-sewn bolt rope – old school works best in the worst conditions.

Above: The curved tillers waiting to be faired on one of the Tiki 38's bench-seat/engine lockers. Photo by Raoul Bianchetti.

A Thai New Year

A man walks down the street
He says why am I soft in the middle now
Why am I soft in the middle
When the rest of my life is so hard
I need a photo-opportunity
I want a shot at redemption
Don't want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard

– Paul Simon, You Can Call Me Al

Sections of the outboard pods were epoxied and glassed today. It took Raoul a little time to figure out Wharram's simple drawings and make allowances to ensure that the outboards we've ordered will fit snugly under the deck when the pods are drawn up and closed under sail.

The work-flow hasn't slackened – although I'll be surprised if anything much gets done over the next week. Tomorrow, Pattaya begins to hunker down for Songkran, the Thai New Year, and its blessed, boisterous (or, as the Thais call it, sanuk or 'fun-filled'), boozy and traditionally water-sodden celebrations won't reach their peak until the 19th. If you're not into being doused with buckets of water by complete strangers or sniped at by unruly street kids armed with knock-off Super-Soakers and bags of flour, you'd best stay indoors.

Realising it was the eve of Songkran caused me a momentary pang of regret. When construction of the Tiki 38 began eleven months ago, I'd hoped to launch her with a blessing ceremony presided over by local Buddhist monks on the first day of Songkran, this year. Underlying the festival's populist street celebrations is its deep significance to Buddhists as a time of thanksgiving, and of spiritual cleansing and renewal. If my vessel represents anything at all to me, it's one or all of those. The year-long construction has revitalised my road-worn, ragged spirit. Even if it's not "a shot at redemption", I'm bloody grateful.

Walking The Planks

The gaffs for the sleeved-luff wingsails were made of epoxied red cedar and fibreglass to save a little more weight (especially aloft) without sacrificing strength. I was sceptical – the spars were no more than eight kilos apiece – until Flavio, an Italian who manages the RB range of production catamarans, hopped up onto the spars (which were suspended between two tables) and walked along them like a circus high-wire artiste. Neither of them bent a millimetre.

We're using the same materials to build the tillers and the tiller cross-arm, as well as some of the structure supporting the bridge-deck.

Above: Flavio inspects the carpentry on the gaff jaws. Photo by Raoul Bianchetti.

Change Of Watch

At my urging, Raoul has made time in his increasingly crazy schedule to supervise the last stages of construction. The difference in tempo is immediately noticeable. He has familiarised himself with the plans – and the thinking behind their evolution – and his observations, which are translated into specific, well-ordered instructions to carpenters and glassers, have energised everyone. More has been accomplished in ten days than in the past two or three months.

I've decided firmly on an open arrangement for the after deck and have spent the day drawing it up for Raoul. He, like me, has always hated the 'dog kennel' as he called Wharram's steering pod. Now that we've escaped the problems of the interior – which, we agree, has cost a lot more weight than we wanted to concede – we're now reducing weight wherever else we can.

Above: (Top) Settling the crossbeams into place. (Bottom) Chris Harell reviews the plan for the gaffs with a carpenter.

Gathering Way

The decks were cleared of their protective plastic coverings and cleaned as work began on the deck's supporting structure. We are using cedar composite instead of a heavy local hardwood for this, although the duckboard decks will be hardwood.

The working sails are being ordered tomorrow. We want to bend them onto the spars and make sure the size of the round, alloy sections and the standard timber gaffs don't present any obvious problems before the spars are fitted out and dressed with Spectra standing rigging. The outboards are also on their way so that we can ensure they fit snugly into the pods to be built for them next week. A number of other items, from dorade ventilators to custom-made stainless steel strap hinges for the hatches, are expected.

My task for today is to decide, once and for all, what to do with the section of deck between the short cross beam on which the after mast is stepped and the after-most main crossbeam. As I've written a few times before, I'm unconvinced by Wharram's steering pod. Apart from the windage, it's not particularly ergonomic and the modest shelter it offers is probably less useful in tropical latitudes than an open, duckboard bridge-deck.