The new rig

The last thrilling experience sailing Aerie on Lake Erie ended with a cracked mast: the mainmast bent so much in strong winds that it delaminated at a scarf joint four feet above the mast step.  I was faced with a choice among several not too satisfactory options, all discussed with the good folks at the Wooden Boat Forum.  The masts were too slender for unstayed operation in strong wind.  I could repair the mast and reinforce it with fiberglass tape at the joints, but that would create stiffer parts that could lead to breaks elsewhere.  I could use a fiberglass sleeve (too expensive and would lead to cracks down the line).  I could use a forestay and shrouds, which would interfere with the turning of the yard and negate the simplicity of the unstayed cat ketch rig.  I could build a thicker, stronger mast, which would be hard to drop into its partner hole in the foredeck.  I could replace the masts with aluminum tubes, which would be expensive and require new tools and skills such as pop-riveting.  Or re-rig the boat completely.

I had already had many problems and confusions with rigging the two masts: two each of halyards, snotters, downhauls and sheets that had to be lying on the correct side and not fouling each other.  So I thought, if I have to build a new mast, why not be bold?  In the end I decided to switch to a gaff sloop rig, which will take a good amount of time to set up before launch, but will be sturdy and less prone to confusion and mishap during launch and sailing.

I went back to pencil and paper and designed the new rig to be balanced, with only the slightest bit of weather helm.  Here’s the sketch, a bit messy but fine for my purposes.  Mainsail is about 80 square feet (7.2 square meters) and jib about half the size.

16 foot studs being a readily available size of lumber, I settled on a 16-foot-long, 3-inch thick mast made from two studs glued together.  The bottom tapers to 2¼ inches to fit into a mast step secured to the keel batten.  The top has only a very slight taper since the hounds are quite high up.  Forestay and shrouds will be 1/8-inch synthetic rope (amsteel blue, which is stronger than steel and does not require expensive tools such as cutter and crimper) with eye splices at both ends: the top ones loop around the mast through oak pad eyes, the bottoms around steel thimbles, attached to steel turnbuckles.  The turnbuckles attach to steel straps bolted to the hull or bowsprit (everything is stainless of course).

The mast partner has a jaw-shaped slot for the mast, and will be secured with bolts and glue to the main bulkhead.  It is laminated from three layers of 1x8 pine and one of 3/8-inch plywood.  The mast will be secured with an oak piece bolted through the partner.

A gaff sloop needs a jib, so I designed a 78-inch-long, 2¼ inch thick bowsprit laminated from three layers of 1x3 lumber.  It has a slot that fits over the bow extension which I had built in for just this eventuality.  It will be secured to the bow extension with a pin.  Its aft end fits into a brace bolted to the aft end of the foredeck.  The forestay will be attached to its forward tip, which is secured to the lower bow with more line.

The mainsail is a classic gaff trapezoid, attached to an 8-foot gaff and an 11-foot boom.  It will have two sets of reef lines.  Since my original main mast came apart right near the 8-foot mark (second photo), I decided to cut it to 8 feet and repurpose it as a gaff, with jaws made of oak and plywood and a parrel line with plastic beads.  

The mizzen mast, shortened only slightly, will serve as the boom.  I will be reusing a leftover gooseneck I experimented with on my original boat.  The boom will have a sheave at the clew end for a clew outhaul, and will be controlled by a mainsheet with a 4:1 purchase just aft of its middle.

The jib is a simple triangle and will be clipped onto the forestay.  The running rigging will consist of three halyards (throat and peak for the gaff, and jib) and two sheets (main and jib), plus a topping lift to assist with rigging and reefing.  A total of seven blocks (three for halyards and four for mainsheet), eight snap hooks and assorted cleats will be needed.  Most hardware will be repurposed from the original rig; I only had to buy one block with a becket and two open clam cleats.  I decided that it is important to have different-colored lines so inexperienced crew can be given simple directions.

I have already bought most materials and hardware except for some sailmaking supplies and line for the running rigging.  My new suppliers (and they are good and responsive) are LFS Marine & Outdoor (good purveyors of amsteel rope and related hardware) and Duckworks Boat Buiilders Supply (who stock parrel beads for gaff jaws, of all things, sailmaking supplies and good, inexpensive chandlery).  The budget is about $350, or more if I run out of epoxy.

Next I’ll be talking about adventures in boat carpentry, so keep rading 176inches.

boatbuilder

More adventures

Back in June we had a nice sail around Maumee Bay, and coming back we had to beat into the wind.  Unfortunately the knots in the loop of line securing the sheet block to the main sprit boom came undone and we were left with an out-of-control mainsail, just as the wind was becoming brisk if not fierce.  Not to be deterred, I left my friend Michael at the helm and grabbed the end of the boom with my hand.  Every time he tacked (and it was several times) I changed hands and sides and held on for dear life as the boat bucked the waves.  The virtues of two masts with smallish sails and the gentle behavior of the rig were apparent.  We made it to the ramp with no trouble.  Until, that is, I tried to bring the trailer around for retrieval.  I looked left and right, started moving out of the parking spot, looked behind to check the trailer, and then bang!  I had a low-speed collision with an SUV that was not supposed to be there.  He had snuck around from the wrong side of the parking lot behind two parked trucks, zoomed along and ended in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Anyway, a waste of time and money and a nuisance but no harm done.

Going out was fine, like the last time.  With a fair wind it took us no time to sail out to Maumee Bay State Park, where we beached the boat and had a quick swim.  I say quick, because the algae bloom was pretty bad so it was neither pleasant to look at nor particularly safe.  On the way back the same thing happened: we had to beat into an ever-stiffening wind and whitecaps.  As the wind got very strong, I was keeping a wary eye on the mainmast that was bending quite a lot.  I said to Michael, “you know, it would be really bad if the mainmast failed.”  As soon as I said it he pointed out that the mast was starting to delaminate at one point above the foredeck.  I did not bother to check it myself: I gave the helm back to him and dropped the mainsail, hoping to get in just by the mizzen, or by rowing if that didn’t work out.

Now I know what happens to a cat ketch with no mainsail.  It would not tack so we had to wear (turn through a gibe).  A sprit boom is much gentler than a regular one in a gibe, but still.  One time the boom tip knocked Michael’s hat off his head and he steered us back so I could retrieve it with the boathook:  a flawless maneuver that gives me some confidence that we can deal with a man overboard situation.  But every time we wore and gibed we lost whatever way we had made and were not moving.  So I decided to drop the mizzen sail, unstep the mizzen mast and row in.  In my haste I let the yard down too quickly and it hit me on the forehead, causing a scratch that bled quite a bit (for a short time fortunately).  We then rowed in the teeth of the waves and wind for over an hour.  It was incredibly hard work we but made it back for a well-deserved picnic.

So now what?  In designing the masts, I had not taken into account the fact that a lugsail is attached to the mast in only one place, at the very top where the yard is secured with halyard and toggle.  Hence the very noticeable bend.  The bending stress clearly found the weakest spot, a scarf joint on an outer layer of the three laminated together.  Interestingly there is much less bend and no problems so far with the mizzen mast.

I first considered two options: making new aluminum masts, or wrapping the existing masts in two layers of fiberglass tape.  Both are costly and would require a lot of work.  Fiberglass would also increase the weight, and for aluminum masts I would need to learn new skills and get new equipment (a pop riveter, say, as well as new hardware).  I therefore settled on a partial approach: only reinforce the places where there are outer scarf joints (two per mast) with fiberglass tape.  Bending per se is not a problem: it actually helps by flattening the sail and spilling wind in when it blows hard.  So I will try again and play it by ear.  If this is not enough then there are plenty of other options.  Aluminum masts won’t look as nice but are stronger per pound of weight.  And much as I hate to give up my one-of-a-kind rig and beautiful hand-made spars and sails, the boat can always be re-rigged.  A gaff sloop would be a good candidate.

Another thing I decided after all these adventures is that having an auxiliary engine is a good idea.  I will therefore accept a colleague’s offer of a very old, light and low-horsepower outboard.

But I hear you say, what about the leak, is it vanquished?  Alas, not quite.  Every time I tinker it gets smaller (down to about 1.5 liters/quarts after more than five hours) but hasn’t gone away yet.  I think there is a tiny void at the aft end of the centerboard slot.  I hope this is the end of it.

Until the next report.

boatbuilder

A year later

It's been a year since I launched Aerie for the first time.  She's only been in the water three times, two of which were proper sails (the third was a test for leaks in the city reservoir).  Between travel, a daughter's wedding and efforts to fix the leak there just wasn't much opportunity, and the sailing season is short here in the Great Lakes region.  This year in particular we had a long cold winter and a miserable spring, and in Mid-May we had lows pretty close to freezing.  But the boat is ready to be launched again.

Since my last efforts to fix the leak, and having learned from the first two shakedown cruises, I made a few small improvements.  First of all I made a final effort on the leak front.  While bantering in the gym locker room with someone who is an old hand at boating, I found out about Boatlife LifeCalk, a polysulfide caulk that is apparently the best for under-the-waterline sealing.  It's very messy to work with, but that is its strength: it sticks to anything with great tenacity, can cure underwater, and is strong but flexible.  So once again I removed the plank covering the ballast compartment, removed one package of lead shot (in two layers of ziplock bags), and removed the pivot bolt and CB.  Then I put a bead of LifeCalk along the centerboard (CB) slot, where the CB trunk meets the boat's bottom.  Two days later I packed the CB pivot bolt hole with the same at both ends while putting the pivot bolt and CB back.  Then I replaced the outer ziplock bag (which had been torn during the removal of the ballast), repacked the ballast and replaced the plank.  I didn't want to hex it, but I was hoping the leak was history.

I also modified the way halyards connect to the yards.  Having to rove the halyard through its mast-top block (before the mast is stepped and with the yard and sail attached) adds to the complications and can be awkward and error-prone.  So I undid the beautifully simple double constrictor hitches by which the halyards were attached and installed steel pad eyes to each yard, with plywood reinforcements and epoxy in the screw threads.  Now each halyard will stay permanently in place on its mast, and a snaphook (tied to its end with an achor bend) will be clipped to the yard when needed.  Hopefully the pad eye arrangement is strong enough. 

In addition I put reefing ties through the reef points in both sails, something I had neglected to do, and filled and varnished some dents and scratches on the seats, which were made by the bolts on the rudder while I was carrying it inside the boat.  The rudder now travels in the car.  Finally I replaced the rubber handle on the boathook, which somehow came off and was lost in the drink last year without anyone noticing. 

The first launch of the season was simply to test for leaks.  I dropped the boat in the city reservoir and rowed it around for an hour and a half.  I will have to wait until  I return from my trip to the UK and Ireland to do some sailing.  After reseating the pivot bolt and sealing a couple of pinholes in scarf joints, the leaking problem has been fixed!

Then I weighed the boat, something I had never done.  What I did in fact was weigh both the boat and trailer at the local quarry.  Assuming that the trailer is 180 lbs (82 kgs) per the manufacturer's statement, Aerie is 480 lbs (218 kgs) for the bare hull (with CB but without rudder, rigging or other equipment).  Have to say, I thought it was a fair bit less.  But I guess just the plywood was about 260 lbs (120 kg).  Add all the floor slats, dimension lumber, gallons of epoxy, paint, etc. and 50 lbs of ballast, and it makes sense.  Or the quarry scale is not accurate (that's what I say when I don't like my own weight reading).

Until the next time,

boatbuilder

Fixing the leak

After a first effort to fix the leak and a trip to Europe, I had a second launch and sailing trial.  There were no big rigging errors but rigging the boat still took a while.  The wind was quite a bit slower and the sailing less exciting.  The leak too was slower and the hand-operated bilge pump kept things under control, but the boat still took in water.  Three weeks ago I launched the boat again in the local reservoir, without rigging and with the forward floorboards removed.  The leak was slow enough to make it difficult to diagnose, but I had my suspicions.  The water mostly came in on the port side, and that of course is where I built the ballast box.  One end of the bolt on which the CB pivots lay inside the ballast box, and I came to suspect that I forgot to ensure that it does not leak.  My previous boat has a significantly shallower draft and the bolt is almost always above the waterline, which probably made me too complacent in this case.  My fear was that most of the leak was coming right through the ballast box, soaking the lead shot every time the boat got in the water.   This would inevitably cause corrosion. 

So for many reasons it couldn’t be helped: I had to remove the middle floor plank covering the ballast box and check things out.  So I did, sitting inside the boat while it sat on its trailer.  I saw that the lead shot was showing signs of corrosion already.  I removed the lead and poured water into the ballast box as a test.  I discovered that both forward and aft compartments had gaps along the seam where the side wall met the keel batten, which leaked water in and out of the ballast box, but that did not explain why the boat itself leaked: no water dripped out of the bilge onto the floor.  Then I tested my hunch that the leak may be through the CB pivot bolt hole.  Sure enough, as long as the water level inside the compartment was above the bolt, water trickled out onto the floor in a good-sized stream.  Gotcha!

To remove the bolt I had to cut up and remove the port side wall of the forward ballast compartment.  It was a lot of work, but it could have been worse: the fit was so poor that it wasn’t even glued to the keel batten.  I took out the CB pivot bolt and the CB itself and cut a new side wall.  The next day I epoxied the side wall and puttied several seams that allow water to spread along the bilges.  The third day I replaced the CB and its bolt, making sure I used rubber gaskets and caulk on both sides, plus I glued and nailed the side wall and gave it a second coat of epoxy.  The fourth day I re-caulked the inside of both ballast compartments.   The caulk I used took a couple of days to dry, and then I tested the compartments again for water tightness.  Alas, the bolt hole still leaked.  I used more epoxy compound between the bolt and the CB case, then tightened the bolt and tested again.  By now the leak had been reduced to a slow drip.  After another dollop of caulk (silicone this time) had dried it was time to test again.  The leak had slowed even more, but was still there.  Back to the drawing board. 

So I removed the bolt again (through a hole I had to drill in the compartment side wall) and found the continuing problem.  The pivot bolt goes through cedar, a soft wood that deforms when compressed, plus the epoxy compound I had used had not hardened properly.  So I glued a square piece of marine plywood an each side, slathering plenty of epoxy compound to be on the safe side, and used a longer bolt with neoprene-on-steel washers.  Then I plugged the hole in the side wall with a cork, and tested for leaks again.  Success, at least for now.  Then it was time to finish the job.  After letting the compartments dry, I coated the lead shot with mineral oil to prevent further corrosion and packed it in double layers of Ziploc bags.  Then I replaced the middle plank.  With a bit of luck all this will be sufficient to stop the leak and keep the lead dry. 

This is what happens when you don’t do things right in the first place.  I had boasted that the only thing I had to do over was the oar blades.  Can’t say that any more.  But without mistakes you can’t experiment or learn.  The expense was annoying, because somehow I had timed my purchases so that there was almost nothing left over: I needed disposable gloves, epoxy, wood flour, epoxy measuring cups, brushes and lumber.  These plus a new bolt and washers and Ziploc bags added up to just over $70, including exorbitant shipping fees.  I’ll put that and the 20 hours of work (spread over two brutally hot weeks in a garage with no A/C) down to experience. 

If I was starting from scratch knowing what I know now, I might have foregone the ballast box completely and simply strapped lead bars or ingots to the keel batten, after testing the boat for leaks.  I would have also slathered more epoxy between CB trunk, keel batten and bottom and filleted more carefully every seam that could possibly enable a leak.  But I feel that the two-week-long repeated diagnostic, repair and retrofit process taught me a lot and, hopefully, was successful.  So, after returning from my daughter’s wedding in San Francisco followed by a trip to Paris and Belgium, I expect to relaunch Aerie and, knock on wood, not have to worry and bail any more.

The reckoning

In the past week I filled the CB trunk-garboard joint, where I am certain the leak originates, with epoxy compound, followed by caulk.  I also caulked the seams on the inside bottom, as a second line of defense and to make the buoyancy compartments more watertight.  Today I tested for leaks by pouring water on the inside.  Absolutely none dripped through the bottom, so I expect we are good to go.  I did some more caulking to stop water from moving across the frames.  Then I painted the tips of the mizzen mast, yard and sprit blue to avoid rigging mistakes.  I will have no trouble remembering that: Blue at the Mizzen is the 20th and last novel in Patrick O'Brian's Master and Commander series of nautical novels.  Finally, I installed clips to hold the oars against the bench seat risers and the boathook under the starboard side deck.  Having received title and registration for the boat, and having put tools and supplies away and tidied up the garage, I am basically done building and fussing.  There will be more of the fussing bit but the building part is done.

So (big exhale!), I can now conclude the boatbuilding portion of this blog with the boat's vital statistics and the cost of building.  I will be posting occasionally about sailing experiences.

Stats:

• LOA (length overall):                              14’ 10.5” (4.53 m)
• L@DWL (length at design waterline):      14’ 2” (4.32 m)
• Beam:                                                     6' (1.83 m)
• Displacement @ DWL:                           880 lbs (400 kg)
• Freeboard:                                              20” (0.51 m)
• Draft:                                                      6.5” (0.17 m); 31” (0.79 m) with centerboard down
• Sail area:                                                 110 sf (10.2 m²)
• Hull weight:                                             480 lbs (218 kg)

And here is the cost (in US$).  Some, like consumables, are estimates, and I may have forgotten some items.  It ended up being about $300 more than I expected.  The cost includes anchor but not boathook, bilge pump, registration and of course the trailer.  Also does not include a few tools, such as a couple of clamps, nail-setting punches and an angle grinder, that I can use for other projects.

Plywood (3 sheets 3/8", 8 sheets 1/4") and oak boards	750
Cedar boards	150
Other lumber (spars, oars, miscellaneous)	100
Epoxy (3.5 gallons)	235
Bronze nails and screws	85
Hardware (oarlocks and sockets, gudgeons & pintles)	65
Sailmaking supplies	220
Chandlery (blocks, cleats, line, fasteners)	300
Paint and varnish	55
Lead ballast	85
Consumables (brushes, gloves, mixing stuff, sandpaper)	100
Total	2,145

Launch day!

Today I launched the boat and sailed her, after a few adventures.  Last Tuesday I had her inspected by the state Department of Watercraft, in a parking lot of a grocery store in a university town 25 miles away (long story).  The officer had no issues and was very complimentary.  So, while the title and registration are in process, and armed with a temporary permit, I asked my friend Michael, who is from coastal Maryland and an experienced sailor, to come out with me today.  It was just as well, because as it turns out the boat is very difficult to rig and get under way.  Things will get easier with practice, but there's no going around that it is a two-person boat.  We were extremely busy (and I was stressed out), and we had no friends in another boat, so we only took a few photos, and many of them were bad.  So only two this time, I'm afraid.

So we drove to Marblehead and launched at Dempsey's State Fishing Area, a nice place with a breakwater/ fishing pier and four launch ramps with floating docks.  I had a printed checklist, and all went well at first: I had stepped the main mast (near the bow) and roved the main halyard and snotter, put on the yard toggle etc.  Lauch was easy and the boat proved to be very stable, with each person being able to step in with little rocking. She also sat in the water exactly where I expected her to.

Then we rowed out into the bay and I tried to rig the mizzen.  I realized something was wrong: the yard lay backwards.  Turns out that I had used the mizzen sail and sprit on the main and vice versa.  Because the main mast is very hard to step while in the boat, there was no avoiding it: we had to row back in and fix things.  Unfortunately we had drifted some way away, plus there was a real traffic jam at the ramps, even with four of them.  Well, eventually we docked her, unstepped the masts, switched the halyards, sails and all, and started again.  The breeze by now was a good 15 to 18 mph.  Long story short, we got under way, and the crazy thing can really fly!  She seemed to prefer a beam reach, and to dislike sailing close to the wind.  Here I am looking like a fat slob (I have lost 16 pounds and I'm in good shape, honest!), sunburned, and worried.  But I'm OK, and you can see the mechanics of the mizzen mast and sail.

Then we tried to tack.  Ready about, helm's-a-lee, then nothing.  It flat-out stalled!  We tried again, nothing again.  At some point we had to wear (turn 270 degrees through a gybe) to go where we wanted.  By then my heart sank when I noticed water sloshing under the floorboards!  So Aerie clearly had sprung a leak.  A slow leak to be sure, but I had no bilge pump, courtesy of Wal-Mart which falsely claimed they had one, and then it was too late to find it elsewhere.  And with the water under the boards I couldn't use the bailer either.

So a leaky boat that could not tack.  Great.  I was getting very discouraged.  Fortunately Michael (here he is, looking unflappable, with a good view of the mainsail) had (and always has) a positive attitude.  Poor guy, he had never had to deal with such complicated traditional rigging, but I couldn't have done it without him.  Then I tried to tighten the tack downhauls, which had gotten loose.  Bingo!  The boat tacked fine and sailed pretty close to the wind.  I was too preoccupied to actually measure angles but the day was saved.  We were on the water for about three hours and we didn't take on all that much water, but we called it a day since we were exhausted anyway.  After a nice picnic in the shade we came home. 

To summarize:

• Aerie  has a leak.  After retrieval I found it, and it's through the joint between CB trunk and garboard.  Nothing that some epoxy compound and caulk won't fix.  Unfortunately the supposedly watertight buoyancy compartments also took on some water, so I have to dry them out and seal them with caulk this time.  Clearly epoxy compound leaves invisible holes for water to come through.
• Rigging her is a pain, and a lot of things can go wrong.  It takes two people to do it.  On a calm day she could be rigged at the dock, but since the mizzen partner is also the rowing thwart,  I would need a motor, which I dont intend to get (yet, anyway).
• She rows very well, but the high sides and nine-foot oars make her not a real row boat.
• She is very dry (well, except the leak anyway), weatherly, stable and stiff.  She has little leeway, and a slight weather helm, which is exactly how I designed her.
• She can really fly on a moderate breeze.
• The tacks, and especially the mizzen one, need to be tightly hauled down.  I had been warned many times in books and web articles, but I didn't realize that the consequence would be inability to tack.
• I need to clearly label yards and sprits so I don't repeat the stupid mistakes of today.
• Finally, the masts, slender and bendy as they are, performed fine and showed no appreciable bending in the wind.  This could change in a much stronger wind, but for now I am very pleased.

All in all, it could have gone better, but when does it ever, really, on the first shakedown cruise?

P.S.  Just as were coming in, a man on a big, scary looking black twin-hull boat ordered us to turn ours into the wind and wait.  It was a Dept. of Watercraft boat with two (armed, judging by the guy who inspected Aerie on Tuesday) officers on board, who had noticed we didn't have registration numbers and tags on the hull.  I showed them the temporary tag and they were all polite and everything and congratulated me on how great my Aerie looked.  I actually appreciated that they are there, earning their salaries and paying attention, perhaps catching a dangerous drunk or two.  In South Carolina they were nowhere to be seen.

The running rigging

The boat is now fully rigged!  Here it is (first photo) , and it bears a strong resemblance to the hand drawn sketch I included back on November 24, only it looks much better.  Rigging it for the first time was a complicated process with lots of errors in the sequence and fouled lines.  I will have to practice and write a checklist, then practice again so I can get it to be second nature.

This long post is about the running rigging, the edifice of line (rope), blocks (pulleys), cleats (rope tie-offs or stops) and snaphooks that keeps everything in controlled working order.  The boat's masts are unstayed, so there is no standing rigging at all.  With the boat's rig being entirely home-designed and -made, as well as so old-timey as to be almost unknown in sailing circles, it remains to be seen how it works.  Apologies to all non-sailors for the avalanche of technical terms.  I try to explain as I go but it's quite the task.

Materials
I used six types of line for the running rigging and other uses.  Low-stretch 5mm Dyneema for the halyards, 1/4 inch line (braided over core) for the sheets, tack downhaulsand snotters (this one a cheaper line left over from my previous efforts), 3/16 inch braid for the sail lacing and the centerboard (CB) and rudder lines, 1/4 inch twisted cord for painter and yard toggles, and 3/16 inch clothesline (!) for the reefing lines.  I will also need at least 75 ft of line for the anchor, but I'll buy that later.

I used a total of 12 blocks.  Most of them are simple loop ones; there are four pivoting ones for the four sheet ends, two larger ones for the halyards, and one cheek block.  The halyard blocks at the masttops are tied with double loops of line and fishermen's knots to wooden eyepads that I fixed there with screws and glue (second photo--sorry, don't know how to rotate it).  I also used four horn cleats (halyards and tack downhauls), six clam cleats (sheets and snotters) and two v-jam cleats (CB and rudder).

Lacing and halyards

First thing I did was lace the sails to their yards.  First the throat and peak (the fore and aft top corners) were tied to the ends of the yards through holes I had drilled.  Then I laced the head of the sail to the yard through the grommets.  It was my opportunity to practice knots.  Never having been a scout (my dad didn't let me, saying they were a fascist organization, which was true in Greece in his boyhood), I have learnt knotting solely for my sailing needs, and I am not too good at it.  Still, I soldiered on while connected to the Internet for quick references.  I used fishermen's and reef knots for peak and throat respectively, plus a row of marline hitches with a running bowline at one end and a double clove hitch at the other for the lacing.  Time will tell how well I did.

Halyards serve to haul the sail and its yard (hence the name) up the mast.  I had planned to attach them to the yards using Jim Michalak's "loose noose" method, in which the halyard wraps around both the yard and the mast and is clipped to itself, with roller beads to ease the friction.  But then I remembered that the yard has to clear the snotter block on the mast, so I tried two new things.  First I used the Goat Island Skiff method of running the halyard through a block (which I lashed to the yard) and around the mast.  That proved unbalanced, and I was short of blocks anyway, so I went back to my original idea of simply tying the halyard to the yard with a double constrictor hitch, and securing the yard to the mast with a toggle.  The toggles for both yards required a total of eight of my old friends, the eyesplices.  More to do but marlinspike work is a good way to pass a quiet evening (thanks to David Nichols' book for both the idea of toggles and for teaching me the skills).  Also they required two wooden eyepads per yard, as opposed to one for the loose noose.  Here is a photo of the finished product (third photo).  Clean, traditional and practical.    The main halyard goes through a cheek block and is cleated close to the forward splashguard.  However, pulling on the halyard twists the mast in its partner and loosens the halyard.  I have to find a way of stopping that.  The mizzen halyard does not have that problem, since it is cleated directly on the mast. 

Control lines

The snotter (which holds up the sprit boom and controls its tension) is attached to the sprit by threading it through a drilled hole and secured with a knot.  It is then threaded through a block attached to the mast with a steel eyestrap, then cleated off; there is an extra block on the foredeck to change the direction of the mainsail snotter (fourth photo). The sprit boom (which bisects the lower sail and holds it taut) is clipped to the clew (the aft lower corner of the sail) with a snaphook, which is secured to the sprit's aft end with an eyescrew.  When reefing, this clew snaphook has to be clipped to the cunnningham (uh, I give up).  If this proves too difficult, I can always use a line through the cunningham to do the same thing.  It took several fittings to find the right length for the sprits, especially so they don't foul each other when they go about: the clearance of the mainsail's clew from the mizzen snotter is smaller than I had designed.

The tack downhaul line, which secures the forward lower corner of the sail to the hull, is attached to the foredeck (mainsail) or to the underside of the mast partner/thwart (mizzen).  It goes through a snaphook clipped to the tack, giving a 2:1 purchase, and is cleated off.  When reefing, the downhaul needs to be clipped to the new (reef) tack.  Again, if needed, I will devise some sort of line system to avoid having to unclip and clip again.

The sheets (despite their name, they are ropes that control the sail's orientation) are double-ended.  They go through a block near the aft end of each sprit, tied through a wooden eyepad, then a block and a cleat on each side.  The main sprit is actually upside down in the photo--I had threaded the snotter the wrong way, but I fixed it since.  Mainsheet blocks and cleats are fixed to the rowing thwart; the blocks are secured to little wooden extensions glued to the thwart's underside (fifth photo).  The influence of B&B Yacht Designs is gratefully acknowledged.  I needed to use bullseyes for the mizzen sheet to change direction so I could cleat off the ends on the splashguards (last photo).

The CB and the rudder blade are kept in the down position with bungee cord, and are lifted with lines that are cleated off.  The CB line has a block to change its direction so I can cleat it at the aft end of the CB trunk.

Miscellaneous

In all I also had to use eight wooden eyepads, seven stainless steel eyestraps, and a lot of screws: 46 just for these rigging items, plus 18 for the inspection ports and 36 for the hinges.  The hull carpentry of course required hundreds of bronze wood screws and two lbs of bronze ringshank nails.  Not to mention 3.5 gallons of epoxy, three quarts of paint and two quarts of spar varnish.  Or all the plywood and lumber, and the lead shot for ballast.  I haven't calculated the total cost yet, since there were so many mail-order suppliers and trips, large and small, to the hardware store.  But there will be a final reckoning, which I will publish soon, along with the boat's vital statistics.