("Tahiti, The Hard Way" by R.Jackson, pg.4)

Having measured from the sheer to the keel midships at the stem and stern, I divided my midship figure by five, the number of inches that I wanted my widest plank to be. I would have 21 strakes. A strake, for the novice, is the area occupied by a plank from stem to stern. In a small boat it may well be one plank. On a large vessel it would consist of two or more, called a strake. These planks are usually held together by butt blocks, often oak, that are screwed and/or through-bolted to the ends of two planks where they butt together. Hence, butt block. At this time by counting the strakes and the number of frames they cross, the amount of butt blocks and multiplying by two, if there will be two screws at each frame, you'll arrive at the number of screws per side. Or, added together, the grand total. Oh, the stunned look on Dee's face and the incredulous tone in her voice when she said, "You spent two thousand dollars on screws?" She was very understanding through it all. For that wasn't the total, only an addition to a substantial quantity already on hand. And these were all purchased wholesale or better. The project has taught me to finagle and bargain hunt. Get it as cheap as possible. Quality yes, but get a good price.

Building a boat is a constant series of plateaus. Finishing the lofting. Forming the backbone. Casting the ballast. Setting up the molds. Adding the ribbands. Finally getting the sheer strake on. If you have a comfortable old chair or two, set them out in the shop for a place to sit at the end of the day when the sun has set ending a beautiful day that you haven't been out playing in, so you can sit down and contemplate what you've accomplished. Look along the sheer for the first time. Have a beer, if you're into that, and lean back and enjoy the fruits of you labor and dream about the future.

The immediate future is more of the same. There are twenty more strakes to cut, shape and fasten before the hull is planked completely. After which or during construction all the screw holes need plugging. Cylinders of wood called bungs, cut with a plug cutter on a drill press. Enough for all two or three thousand screw holes. Dee would stand for hours - hours hell, days - cutting plugs and filling Mother's Oats containers with them. Then they were boiled in linseed oil for an hour or so. No garlic. After cooling they would be dipped into a mixture of white lead and shellac, and then they were aimed into the screw hole, whereupon Dee would administer some persuasion in the form of a smart thwack to their backsides hopefully having the grain aligned in the same direction as the plank. This thwacking action frequently spatters the wielder of the mallet with poisonous snow-like freckles. It also makes for very messy fingers. Not the most joyous job for a woman who, as a little girl, abhorred sticky fingers.

About the fourth strake down, Bennie McCaskill replaced Garnie, freeing him up for more lucrative cabinet work. Bennie, a friend from Detroit, really our son's friend, was a total amateur. I had an apprentice. Fortunately he learned fast. Our son Don came up from California and lived with us for a while during the planking. When the three of us were working together, things progressed at an inspiring rate. 		One trouble with building a boat of this size, for a novice, is the apparent lack of progress. You can work your ass off all weekend and have almost nothing to show for it. Don's California construction experience was evident. When Bennie and I had worked together, progress was frequently interrupted to go somewhere else in the shop for a forgotten tool or clamp. Don seemed to always think ahead. Bennie and I would be drilling and screwing up (not literally... well, sometimes) a plank and Don would be laying out clamps and pads precisely where they would be needed for the next plank. Speaking of clamps, if you are harboring maniacal thoughts of actually doing a boat yourself, start collecting them. You can't have too many. Also, a few good sources of planking information are: Bud McIntosh's book "Boat Building". Stewart, Chapelle and Wooden Boat Magazine have a few articles on butt blocks worth perusing. And there is a tool, the Yankee Planking Bevel made by Chet Rice, that, if it's still available, is real neat. Have a selection of good planes and a convenient (fast) way to keep them sharp. Oh, yes, tracing. Try as I might to remember this, it would be the thing most likely forgotten. After you've got a plank clamped up in place and it fits up against it's neighbor like the proverbial glove and it's been thunked forward or aft into the adjoing plank, don't reach for your drill and screw gun. Take it down and lay it on top of the board you're using for the plank below and trace the bottom edge onto the top of that pristine board or boards. Assuming there will be a butt somewhere in the middle of the shaped plank, then, using your marking gauge, score the line top and bottom that will keep all those screws in a nice even row, and now put it back on the boat. Clamp it and fasten it on. Seems easy enough to remember, but I'd hate to tell you how many planks would get fastened on without being traced. This, of course, necessitated taking the bevels off the bottom of the attached plank at every frame and transferring them to the new board, plus using the spilling board to pick up the line you could have traced.

Despite these oversights, the view from inside the boat diminished until one day there was only half a strake left open. This is when, by tradition, one rounds up a quantity of grog and numerous friends for what is called "the shutter party". The last plank to be fastened is followed by a toast to the gods that kept you going to this point. Photos are taken, and a small amount of silliness is tolerated. One is buoyed up by the feeling of having finished. The feeling lasts about as long as a hangover.

You've completed about 1/3 of the project. "Do I smell flowers? Is Tahiti closer?"
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