The Samoan Paopao

February 24, 2013, 12:21 pm

Born in 1877 or thereabouts, Te Rangi Hīroa, aka Sir Peter Henry Buck, was a half-English, half-Maori anthropologist who studied Maori and other Pacific cultures. In his 1930 publication Samoan Material Culture (complete text here free), he described seven boat types of Samoa: three based on dugout technology, and four of sewn-plank construction. Quoting directly from the source, these were:

Dugout Canoes
1.         Paopao. The smallest dugout, with two outrigger booms, propelled by paddling.
2.         Soatau. A medium dugout, with three outrigger booms, propelled by paddling.
3.         'Iatolima. The largest of the dugouts, with five outrigger booms, topsides, bow and stern covers, and sail.
Plank Canoes
4.         Va'a alo. The bonito boat made of lashed planks, with two outrigger booms connected with float, propelled by paddling.
5.         Amatasi. A plank canoe larger than the bonito boat, with two outrigger booms connected with the float, a platform over the booms, balancing spars on the right, and a mast for sailing.
6.         Taumualua. A wide plank canoe without outrigger, modelled originally on whaleboat lines, idea foreign but technique native.
7.         'Alia. The double voyaging canoe made of planks and consisting of two canoes lashed together.

Due to the incursion of Western technologies and political administration, only one of each category was still in use during his research: the paopao and the va'a alo, although a few stray examples of some of the other types were still in existence, if no longer usable. Here we'll look at the paopao; we may address some of the other types in future posts.

Model of a paopao. All images from Samoan Material Culture. (Click any image to enlarge.)

The paopao, or small canoe, was a single-outrigger paddle-propelled dugout designed for one man, although it was capable of carrying two in a pinch. It was used exclusively inside the islands' surrounding reefs primarily for transportation and for fishing, often by trolling a hook. According to Te Rangi Hīroa, the paopao was "in active general use throughout the (Samoan islands)…and is an indispensible part of every male adult's equipment in life." To quote further:

The paopao canoes are made by the householders who are not expert carpenters. A master builder while enumerating the canoes made by the carpenters' guild omitted the paopao. On my mentioning it, he smiled and said, "The paopao is not a canoe." Neither is it from the expert point of view. In the eyes of the guild they rank with the cooking houses and are beneath their dignity to build.

In Hīroa's time, most or all of this home-grown boatbuilding was done with steel adzes.

Paopao in plan and cross-section.

The main hull of the paopaohas a fascinating cross-section. The stem was heavy and vertical on the outside, and the hold was deepest at its forward end, gradually becoming shallower until it reached the rear outrigger boom, at which point the bottom sloped up sharply to meet the sheerline. The paddler sat aft of amidships, so his weight raised the forward end and this resulted in approximately even draft along the boat's length, but it also meant little freeboard aft. The knob at the very end of the stern was used as a fastening point for a rope when transporting the log from the forest to the boat's building site. It served no further function, but was retained as a decorative element.

In plan view, the hull was narrow, double-ended, and roughly symmetrical fore and aft. Amidships, the hull was round in cross-section – i.e., it was not expanded – so the greatest beam was some inches below the sheerline. (A 16'8" LOA paopao hull measured 14.5" maximum beam.) Inwales were carved to provide a wider bearing surface for the outrigger booms: as they weren't intended to contribute to stiffness, these inboard hull flanges did not continue into the ends.

As the boats were not sailed, outrigger booms were fairly short: a measured 15-footer had booms 4'6" and 4'7" long. Each boom was lashed to the hull through a single hole bored just below the inwale. The booms were straight, and connected to the float by struts. The floats were long and pointed at the forward end, but cut off square just behind the aft support. Floats were aligned parallel with the main hull.

Because of the sloping run of the hull's bottom, the forward connecting struts were longer than the aft struts. Two styles of struts were observed:

1. Paired rods: Each boom had two pairs or ironwood rods, with the top ends lashed directly to the boom. The upper ends of the paired rods that were inboard of the float slanted inboard (i.e., toward the hull), while the rods outboard of the float sloped outboard. The bottom ends of the rods were sharpened and forced into holes bored on either side of the centerline on the top surface of the float. To make all fast, lashings were passed over the boom and through holes bored transversely through a longitudinal ridge standing proud on the upper surface of the float.

2. Forked branches: Each boom had a Y-shaped connector: the two upper arms of the Y were lashed to the boom, and the sharpened bottom end was inserted into a hole bored on the float's upper surface. The lashing method was not recorded, but it may have been similar to that used for the other method.

Paopao end decorations

Some paopao had decorative protrusions left standing proud on the upper surfaces of the solid ends. Short sections of V-shaped serrations were also carved into the gunwales of some of the canoes just inboard of the solid ends. The seat was a simple plank that locked over the gunwale just forward of the aft outrigger boom, and it was removed when the boat was not in use. Where paopao were used for rod fishing, a forked rod rest would be lashed to the forward boom, while the pole's butt end rested on the after boom.

(All information derived from Samoan Material Culture by Peter H. Buck, a.k.a., Te Rangi Hīroa)

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Bengal Boat Model Exhibit

February 27, 2013, 5:53 am

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Model of a sewn-planked, lug-rigged double-ended Bengali boat on display at Tarani Majhir Ghat, Salt Lake Stadium (Photo courtesy Swarap Bhattacharyya. Click to enlarge.)

Swarup Bhattacharyya maintains a fine blog, Noukoghar: Abode of Bengal Boat. He's written to draw attention to his latest post, about a great little exhibit of Bengali boat models at the Tarani Majhir Ghat, Salt Lake Stadium, organized by the intriguingly-named "Backward Classes Welfare Department, Govt. of West Bengal." Swarup's post has nice photos depicting a variety of interesting native craft -- I only wish there was some detail about the models and the boats they represent.

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Morgawr, Ferriby 1 Reconstruction, Launched

March 10, 2013, 11:39 am

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After a year in construction, Morgawr, a full-size reconstruction of Ferriby 1 has been launched in Cornwall. Discovered in the 1930s by Ted Wright and his brother Will, Ferriby 1 is one of the most important Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in northern Europe. (Our previous post about the construction of the Ferriby replica included a nice bit of time-lapse photography.)

Morgawr, a reconstruction of the Bronze Age boat Ferriby 1. This image and the one below are from John Durrant's nice FlickR album that includes many good photos of construction details.

Inside the Ferriby reconstruction. Cleats were left standing proud on the inside surfaces on the hull's main timbers when the logs were hewn to shape. The cleats provide anchors for transverse staves. The staves keep the longitudinal bottom timber and the iles (the angled "plank" pieces that form the turn of the bilge) from shifting longitudinally relative to each other, and provide some transverse stiffness to the bottom, but they do not act as frames: i.e., they do nothing to keep the "planks" tight against each other. For that, the builders relied on stitching with yew withies. The seams were caulked with moss and animal fat, and covered with laths on the inside. The laths are held down by the yew stitches, which pass through holes bored through the planks.

Here's a short news item with a bit more background from This Is Cornwall, which we'll follow with this piece from BBC, featuring some nice footage of the boat in action, coupled with typically inane reporting.

As a bonus: here's a bailer that museum expert Edwin Deady carved from oak and donated to the reconstruction effort. While the boat crew evidently didn't use it on the maiden voyage, one would hope that they'll soon adopt this more period-accurate accessory during future sea trials.

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The Samoan 'iatolima

April 9, 2013, 8:24 am

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Some weeks ago we discussed the Samoan "small canoe," or paopao, drawing from the work of Te Rangi Hiroa. In contrast to the paopao, which was paddle-propelled and used only on calm waters, the larger 'iatolima was sail-propelled and meant for use outside the reefs. Both were outrigger dugout canoes, with the outrigger on the port side.

'iatolima-rigged soatau, from Hiroa's Samoan Material Culture. (Click to enlarge.)

Hiroa could not find any 'iatolimas for direct observation, and it is possible that none remained in use at the time of his research. The image above depicts a model of a boat that combines the hull of a soatau with the rig of an 'iatolima, and that seems to be the best we have to go by. The soatau was very much like the paopao, even down to the carved decorative elements, only somewhat larger. The 'iatolima hull, in contrast to this, was broader in the ends and would have had "topsides" or "bow and stern covers" (Hiroa's terms, i.e., partial decks) to protect it from boarding waves.

The 'iatolima rig, however, is believed to appear intact in the sketch of the model. It is unusual in having five outrigger booms, when most boats of this size would make do with two or three. ('iatolima translates as "five booms.") But the extra booms are put to good use.

The two forward booms (#4 and #5 in the illustration) are very close together, serving as a mast step. The two booms amidship brace and support the balancing beam, a broad plank on which the sailor could hike out to starboard in order to counterbalance the boat's heel to port. The aft-most boom needs no explanation. The outrigger float is cut off short immediately behind the aft boom connection, as on the paopao.

Two longitudinal timbers are lashed to the booms directly above the float. While this would have stiffened the ends of the booms somewhat, that hardly seems necessary, given the width and number of the booms. I suspect they mainly served as another hiking platform, for use when sailing on a port tack.

The rig is, in most respects, a standard oceanic sprit of an upright posture. Stepped far forward, it is a tacking, not a shunting, rig. It is stayed to an unusual degree, with a forestay and shrouds on both sides of the "mast." Also shown (#18 in the illustration) is an "aft stay from aft spar to aft boom" but I believe this is an incorrect interpretation. Such a stay would immobilize the sprit and prevent tacking. I think that this line is really the main sheet, tied down to the aft outrigger boom in the model simply to avoid it hanging loose, as it probably would have been when sailing.

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The Samoan Va'a alo

May 3, 2013, 10:45 am

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≪ Previous: The Samoan 'iatolima

A va'a alo, from Kava Drinking Ceremonies Among the Samoans And A Boat Voyage round 'Upolu Island, Samoa, S. Percy Smith. Note rows of decorate shells on bow and stern decks. (Click any image to enlarge.)

Both dugout and plank-built outrigger canoes were indigenous to Samoa. This is surprising, since most pre-industrial societies that had access to trees large enough to build boats of the desired size with dugout technology never developed a planked alternative. But the earliest European records of Samoa attest to the presence of planked craft there. In 1722, a Captain Roggeveen "saw very neat and fast canoes with three paddles. At Ta’ū he noted that some canoes were not made of hollowed-out trees but were made of planks very neatly joined together." (See earlier posts on the inshore Samoan paddling dugout, the paopaoand the larger offshore sailing dugout, the 'iatolima.)

What Roggeveen saw were apparently bonito canoes, or va'a alo, which were still in use when observed by Te Rangi Hiroa in the first third of the 20th century. As their name suggests, these were used for bonito fishing, and they were considered essential accouterments of chiefs and other high-ranking Samoans. Indeed, large bonito (those over 24" long, called skipjacks) were reserved for chiefs, and the common fisherman who caught and ate one, instead of turning it over to the chief, was subject to having his house burned down and his crops destroyed. Many other taboos applied, including a rule against stepping over a va'a alo during bonito fishing season, and the obligation of the owner to provide the builders with gifts and the finest of foods during construction.

Va'a alo were paddled by two or three men who would watch for seabirds hovering over the water, waiting to catch the prey fish of fast-moving predatory bonito. The fishermen would paddle through a school of bonito trailing a shell hook or gorge from a rod and line. If, while bonito fishing, the fishermen encountered a shark, they would gather in the line and attempt to capture the shark with a lasso.

To quote Te Rangi Hiroa:

"The bonito canoe (va'a alo) was built for speed so as to keep up with the schools of fish being pursued by the bonito. To obtain speed, the hull had to be made as light as possible. The size of the canoe was no problem as trees larger than the canoe were readily obtainable and were used in the soatau and 'iatolima types. To get the hull thin enough, it was easier to control the thinness of the material by dubbing out short sections of planks than by excavating the whole hull in one piece. Of later years, better control over a one-piece hull has been obtained with the sharper steel adzes, and has led to the manufacture of dugout bonito canoes. Before the advent of steel adzes, however, the technique of the plank bonito canoe had become established and many craftsmen despise the dugout bonito canoe as not being true to type. The manufacture of the plank canoe came within the field of the guild of expert carpenters. The canoe is made in the old style except for the use of steel adzes."

Profile of the hull, with plank section layout, keel, stempiece and sternpiece. The bow is to the right.

The complexity of va'a alo construction illustrates why plank-built boats were rare among societies that could build dugouts adequate to their purpose. Adzes were the primary tool used in construction: steel when it became available, and presumably stone or shell before that. Before the steel bit and brace became available, a conical shell with spiral whorls was used as a bit. Lashings were of braided sennit made from palm-leaf fibers; the mid-ribs of palm leafs were used as sewing needles to pass the lashings through the holes.

Plan and sections of the keel.

Va'a alo were built upon a keel, which was carved to a careful, elaborate shape designed to provide secure lashing and watertight joints for the first row of planks. Two styles of keels existed: a "simple" keel with a relatively straight profile (but complex plan and cross-sections), and a "compound" keel, with a sternpost and the lower portion of the stem carved as integral parts. An example of a simple keel recorded by Te Rangi Hiroa measured 23'5" long, 4.5" maximum width, and 2.5" maximum depth.

Keel bent against building posts.

The keel (of either type) was set up on posts inside a boat shed or a vacant house, with props against the roof beam to force it into the desired curve. The first strake consisted of five plank sections per side, each with a predefined shape and its own name. The bottom edges of the planks fit into a rabbet in the keel, and pieces were carefully mated for a watertight seal by repeatedly rubbing the keel with red earth, trial fitting the plank sections, observing where the clay transferred to the mating piece, then dubbing off the high spots. Blind holes were drilled through the inside surface of the planks and keel, and the pieces were sewn together with braided sennit cord. In some canoes, a pair of parallel ridges along the top surface of the keel, allowing the fishermen to sweep a canoe bailer lengthwise along the bottom without interference from, or damage to, the lashings.

Lashing of keel to lower plank sections.

The plank sections of the upper row were not so strictly defined as the bottom: the available raw material determined the shapes, and the pieces – typically four per side – did not each have their own name.

Plank section (inside surface) with integral strengthening ribs and cleats.

The inside surface of planks was carved with integral ribs and foot braces. Lashings between planks were made through holes bored through a cleat running all around the planks' perimeters. The thickness of the cleats and ribs was 1.5 inches, but between them, the planks were thinned to just 0.25 to 0.5 inches. This greatly lightened the boat, giving it the speed capability needed for the bonito fishery.

Complicated sternpiece design.

Probably the most complex pieces of woodwork on the va'a alo were the ends. Whether carved integral with the keel or as separate pieces, the stem and stern pieces featured numerous details designed to ensure secure, watertight joints with the plank ends. The mere length of caption to Hiroa's illustration (above) gives some idea.

Bonito canoes had bow and stern decks, were decorated with knobs, and sometimes with valuable shells, along their centerline. Running between the decks on both sides and sewn to the top edge of the upper strakes were gunwale timbers, which both strengthened the hull and raised the topsides by two inches.

Arrangement of outrigger float, struts, and boom.

As on Samoan dugout canoes, the outrigger float was on the left side and was cut off blunt just abaft the aft boom. It was not parallel to the main hull's centerline, but instead angled slightly inward toward the bow. The float was attached to two straight booms through pairs of angled struts. A third boom, between the other two, did not attach to the float, but served as "a brace to the gunwales, a back support to the front seat, and an additional means of carrying the canoe if needed" (Hiroa).

The va'a alo was the last native plank canoe used in Samoa, and it was already on its way out when Hiroa wrote about it in the 1920s. If any remain in use, they are almost certainly heritage-minded recreations rather than true working boats.

Sources:

Most content and all images except photo from Samoan Material Culture, Te Rangi Hiroa.

Also:

Historic Fishing Methods in American Samoa, Karen Armstrong, David Herdrich, Arielle Levine

Kava Drinking Ceremonies Among the Samoans And A Boat Voyage round 'Upolu Island, Samoa, S. Percy Smith.

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Unidentified Indonesian Canoe

June 6, 2013, 5:02 am

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≪ Previous: The Samoan Va'a alo

I received this query from Arnon Sheige in the Netherlands. Being unable to answer it myself, I'm throwing it open for reader input, with Arnon's permission. Please contribute any ideas via Comments. Thanks.

What can you tell us about this canoe? (Click any image to enlarge.)

Dear Bob

As a researcher of ancient Indonesia, I would appreciate if you could let me know some details regarding a boat displayed in the Bahari Museum (photo is attached) Jakarta. The Museum Email apparently does not function.

I am interested in the following:
1. The boat type name. (Generic name?)
2. Area of construction in Indonesian archipelago.
3. What kind of rig/sails does she have?
4. What does the figurehead symbolizes?
5. Type of construction (a dugout + sewn planks elements?)

All the above is needed for an academic paper regarding the ancient Indonesians mariners.

Many thanks in advance,

Arnon Sheige

The Netherlands

The figurehead on the photo from Arnon reminded me of the elaborate carvings on another Indonesian canoe, below. I took these shots a few years ago in the storage area of the Canadian Canoe Museum. Aside from the obvious observations that it's very long, and of straight dugout construction, I have no information about it.

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The Practicality of the Philippine Banca

June 21, 2013, 6:19 am

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Beautiful curves on the sheer and outrigger booms on this Philippine banca. The booms are carefully chosen for their curves from the branches of a native thorn tree. Each side of each boom is a single branch, lashed together where they overlap amidships. (Copied from the Facebook page of Tropical Boats, a cultural tourism company.)

A new comment by Robert La Quey on an old post about Philippine bancas seemed so interesting that I want to highlight it in its own post. Here's his comment:

I can assure you that bangcas are alive and well. If you show any narrow boat to a filipino fisherman he will immediately suggest that you add outriggers and bamboo amas. First and foremost most bangcas are rafts for working t sea and so stability is king. But fast access from the shore to the workplace off shore is essential as well. So the narrow hulls, easily driven by very inexpensive single cylinder pump motors. I have tried and tried but it is damn difficult to design a boat that is a better match to the requirements of the typical Filipino than the bangca.
Flat bottom bangcas built of plywood are emerging. Planing boats, very fast on and off shore. Many variations but all have the classical bangca outrigger setup with bamboo amas.

Photos of our bangcas here https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=585396104825590&set=a.350169285014941.86952.350169078348295&type=3&src=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-frc3%2F977338_585396104825590_659414029_o.jpg&smallsrc=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-frc3%2F970528_585396104825590_659414029_n.jpg&size=2048%2C1536

and here
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Macho-Tsongo/388093857895410

For those of you who don't do Facebook (poor, benighted souls), here's the "About" verbiage concerning Mr. La Quey's business, Tropical Boats:

About Tropical Boats is for adventuresome tourists. We build boats and arrange tours in our own boats and can provide a wide variety of accomodations, ranging from tents to fine resorts. Create your dream vacation. We make it a reality.

Mission Tropical boats uses boat building to introduce tourists to another way of life ... that of the poor but free Filipino fisherman. Our mission is to open minds and hearts to realities not often considered in the developed world.

Description During a typical class at Tropical Boats you will build a Filipino bangka (outrigger canoe) during the first week. During the second week you will go fishing in your bangka with a Filipino fisherman. Food and accommodations will be provided as well as weekend entertainment.

This sounds like a fantastic vacation to me. Here's Mr. La Quey's contact info:

Phone: +63 947 949 5887
Email: robert.laquey@gmail.com

Copied from Mr. La Quey's Facebook page, I have no information about this photo, but I love the way these little Philippine folks have their own beautiful little banca.

Macho Tsongo is a 10-meter banca based in Ligtasin Beach, "available for day trips around Matabungkay Bay and Fortune Island," according to its Facebook page, which continues: "We also provide custom tours for overnight camping and fishing around Caltagan Point to Balayan Bay and to areas around Lubang Island."

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The Newgrange Currach

June 22, 2013, 5:40 am

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Reliable reader Wade Tarzia has added a useful comment to an earlier post about coracles, with a review of the 2012 book, The Boyne Currach

by Claidhbh O Gibne. (Please don't ask me to pronounce the author's first name.) The comment worth a read, or you can see Wade's complete review on his blog.

The Boyne currach, a historical type, is being championed by an organization that seems to refer to itself alternately as the Newgrange Currach and the Boyne Currach Heritage Group. They're active in researching the type, building replicas, and campaigning them on the water in surprisingly adventurous and attractive ways, as shown in the slideshow above.

(By the way, in addition to what I would call a currach -- i.e., a "boat-shaped" hide-covered, open-framework boat -- Newgrange Currach is also building what I would call coracles -- i.e., boats that are round in plan -- and apparently calling them currachs too. Not having yet read the book, I'm not clear if there's a technical difference between their round currachs and true coracles, or simply an overlap of terminology.)

They also (naturally) maintain a Facebook page.

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Dover Bronze Age Boat Replica Built, Not Floating

July 18, 2013, 9:42 am

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≪ Previous: The Newgrange Currach

[Dear readers: I'm sorry about posting so rarely during the past few months. Life's busy, as I'm sure you understand. Here's a quick one just to remind you that I'm here, and a promise to do a more substantial post as soon as I can. Thanks for your continued interest and your patience.]

I've written before about the Dover Bronze Age Boat. This is my favorite ancient boat, mainly because I was among the first journalists on the scene, and it is the only marine archaeological excavation that I have experienced up close (an experience which filled me with awe). The replica of the boat that has been under construction (which I reported here as being a full-size reproduction, but which was, in fact, built at half-size) is now essentially complete, except that it doesn't float.

As shown in the Kickstarter video, the replica's sponsors now plan to disassemble, caulk, and reassemble the boat in water-tight condition, and then to campaign it along England's south coast. The video shows parts of the boat in fine detail, including some provocative internal X-frames. I'd like to know the evidence or the reasoning behind this unusual feature. Also of interest, but unfortunately not shown, is the archaeologists' interpretation of the unusual yoke-shaped feature on the upper side of the bottom's bow end, and how it fit together with other planks in closing in the bow.

I've also written previously about the replica Ferriby Boats. Also from Britain's Bronze Age, the Ferriby boats exhibit a similar technological approach but different engineering solutions to the problems of edge-joining and waterproofing the joints between heavy hewn planks. It would be interesting to test Ferriby and a full-size Dover replica side by side and compare their capabilities.

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Hawaiian Double Canoes

July 23, 2013, 5:00 pm

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Two types of boats were prevalent in pre-European-contact Hawaii: the single-outrigger canoe and the twin-hull, or double, canoe. Outrigger canoes were far more numerous, performing most everyday functions such as fishing, personal transportation, and local trade. The larger, more expensive double canoes were owned by the social elite and were used for war, ceremony, deep-sea voyaging for larger-scale missions of trade or exploration, and to display the owner's prestige.

Three double canoes visiting Capt. James Cook on his third Pacific expedition. The sailing canoe holds several dozen crew and passengers, including "Tereboo, King of Owyhee, bringing presents to Captain Cook." (Click any image to enlarge.)

An average-size double canoe of the mid-19th century was about 48 feet (14 m) long and 6'7" (2 m) in beam, with each hull being about 1'7" (0.5 m) wide. Far larger ones existed, though: Capt. James Cook's third voyage to Hawaii (1776-80) reported the largest as being 70' LOA with a 12' beam. The longest ever recorded was 108' LOA: since all double-canoe hulls were carved, dugout-style, from single trunks, this would have required a pair of extraordinary trees. Complements of several dozen were probably typical, although crews as large as 120-140 men were reported.

King Kamehameha's canoe, from a drawing by Admiral Paris. Note six full cross-booms, a partial boom at the forward end of the platform, the mast step (which does not sit atop a cross-boom), and the bowsprit.

Compared to modern twin-hull vessels, Hawaiian double canoes were quite narrow, with a typical length:width ratio of 7.2:1 or 7.3:1. By keeping the hulls close and the cross-booms between them short, wracking forces that would tend to break the structure apart were minimized. A cargo platform, which was fastened to the cross-booms between the hulls, was necessarily narrow, restricting the canoe's carrying capacity. In the average-size canoe mentioned above, the platform was a bit over 32' (10.4 m) long and averaged only about 1'7" (0.5 m) wide. Although the distance between the hulls was about 3' (0.9 m), the platform could not span that entire width: space had to be left between each hull and the platform so that the crew could paddle on the inboard sides of the hulls.

A cross-section of an almond-shaped hull. The cross-brace (3) is held in sockets on the inside of the hull, and provides an anchor for the heavy lashings that secure the cross-boom (4). (The lashings are poorly drawn: it's impossible to tell how they terminate or where their lower ends lead.) This boat is unusual in having two washstrakes.

The hulls were most often carved from native koa, a.k.a. Hawaiian mahogany (Acacia koa), although Oregon pine, which occasionally showed up as driftwood, was used to make the largest boats. The hulls were symmetrical and as close in size and shape to one another as possible. On most hulls, the sides were usually fairly straight, transitioning rather quickly at the bilge to a rounded bottom, although some hulls had a somewhat almond-shaped cross section. During carving, cleats were left standing proud some inches below the top edge of the dugout hull to serve as fastening points for spreaders, which served mainly to anchor the lashings for the cross-booms.

The fairly rough model shows the double-curved cross-booms that were typical of later canoes. Compare to the straight cross-booms in the line drawing above.

The booms, which ranged in number from as few as 3 to probably more than 6 for the largest boats, rested atop the upper edge of the dugout hull and passed through the bottom edge of washstrakes, which raised freeboard by several inches. Older canoe examples mostly show straight cross-booms, with later ones having booms that curve upward amidships, raising the cargo platform higher above the water. These double-curved timbers were gotten from branches of the hau tree (Hibiscus tiliaceus).

A double-rabbeted joint between the hull (b) and the washstrake (a:). The exterior of the hull is at the bottom of the illustration. The sennit lashing (c) is almost entirely protected on the exterior.

The lower edge of the washstrake was rabbeted to fit over the upper edge of the base (i.e., the gunwale surface of the dugout hull), with the outer edge of the washstrake extending a bit wide of the base. Sometimes the upper edge of the base was also rabbeted. Lashings of sennit held the washstrakes to the base, with holes bored so that very little of the lashing was exposed on the exterior.

Elaborately carved end-pieces extended the washstrakes on each side and curved into the horizontal to form end-decks. The smaller spatulate terminal in (a) was typical of most double canoes; the larger device in (b) was more prestigious.

The washstrakes were cut off square at the ends. They were continued into the ends of the hulls by carefully-carved pieces that transitioned from the vertical into the horizontal plane to serve as end-decks and ended in vertical, spatulate terminals. The two mirror-image pieces which closed in each end were lashed together along the hull's centerline.

This model was made under Admiral Paris's supervision, but according to Haddon and Hornell, it contains several mistakes. Note the straight cross-booms, "ram" ends that extend beyond the washstrakes (unlike the line drawing); rigging details of forestay, shrouds, mainsheet, and a line bending the upper end of the sprit toward the masthead.

A single, fixed mast was stepped on the center platform, and while it would have been stronger to place it directly above a cross-boom, this was not always done. (Some early reports stated that the mast was stepped in one of the hulls, but this was apparently not the norm. It may have been an expedient when two single-hull canoes where fastened together to form a temporary double canoe.) The boom – really a sprit – was fastened at a sharp upward angle near the base of the mast, and a cord was used to bend its upper end in toward the masthead. Masts were supported by backstays, shrouds and, in at least some cases, by a forestay to a short bowsprit. A single sheet was fastened about mid-way up the sprit. The sail had a crab-claw shape and was made of woven matting. Lengths of matting were also used to cover the hulls in rough weather, with holes left for the paddlers, who sat on thwarts.

Propulsion paddle (a) and steering paddle (b)

Paddling was the preferred form of propulsion in almost all circumstances: indeed, with the mast stepped so far forward, sailing would have been problematic in any but a downwind direction. Propulsion paddles, carved from single pieces of koa, were about 5' (1.5 m) long, with large blades and no grip. Steering paddles were substantially bigger in all dimensions and had a T-grip. All paddlers in each hull paddled on the same side. A rapid pace was maintained, and on a signal from a "stroke" paddler in the bow (three raps with his paddle against the hull), all paddlers would switch sides.

For more on Hawaiian double canoes, see our previous post on the reproduction voyaging canoe Hokule'a.

(All images and the majority of content for this post are from Canoes of Oceania

, A.C. Haddon and James Hornell.)

↧

Japanese Tenmasen Under Construction

August 8, 2013, 6:14 am

≫ Next: More Tenmasens

≪ Previous: Hawaiian Double Canoes

Model of a Japanese tenmasen workboat. All images courtesy Douglas Brooks (click any image to enlarge.)

The Japanese tenmasen is, according to Douglas Brooks, "a typical small cargo boat from the Inland Sea region." Brooks, an American boatbuilder who specializes in researching and reproducing Japanese traditional small craft, is now building a tenmasen as part of the the 2013 Setouchi Festivale, an arts and crafts event in the town of Setouchi, on the shores of the Inland Sea. (We've written previously about Brooks, including his sabani [a hewn-plank canoe-like boat] and taraibune [a "tub boat"] projects.)

Lines of a tenmasin.

To describe the drawing and the boat itself, I'll quote an email communication from Brooks:

The lines drawings are from the Seto Nai Kai Museum and date from the 1950's or so. The boat was built in Ushimado, a community now called Setouchi. Very typical Japanese small boat style, with the aft end of the plank keel uplifted, and two planks per side. One interesting feature is the two piece transom which is not in one plane but joined at an angle. In the drawing you can see the two stations used by the builder, another common element of boatbuilders here, who used far less reference points than their western counterparts.

Overall length is about twenty feet.

This boat would have been propelled off the stern by a ro, or Japanese sculling oar, similar to the Chinese yuloh.

Another interesting feature of the transom that Brooks did not mention is that it is recessed far forward of the aft ends of the planks.

Brooks at work on the Setouchi tenmasen.

Brooks is maintaining a detailed blog of the project. Here is the most recent post, but to read it in chronological order, go to the first post and then click "newer post" over and over. There's also a blog primarily for Japanese readers.

Visit Douglas Brooks' website. It's also the source to purchase his book, The Tub Boats of Sado Island, which is not available on Amazon.

↧

More Tenmasens

August 12, 2013, 4:50 pm

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≪ Previous: Japanese Tenmasen Under Construction

My previous post, on the Japanese tenmasen workboat under construction by Douglas Brooks, failed to include any good photos of full-size boats, an omission which I'll correct here. Had I only dug a bit deeper on Mr. Brooks' website, I'd have found this lovely one, which he built with a Japanese builder in 2002:

Tenmasen built by Douglas Brooks and Mr. Kazuyoshi Fujiwara. Photo courtesy Mr. Brooks. (Click any image to enlarge)

As an apparently straightforward build, it's perhaps not surprising that some other tenmasens have been built for cultural/historical purposes, including this one in 2009 for the marine research organization/aquarium Aquamarine Fukashima:

Tenmasen built for Aquamarine Fukashima.

The two tenmasens show some important differences. The former has a blunt and massive bow and no seats (perhaps more in keeping with the boat's heritage as a cargo-carrier), while the latter has a fine and pointed bow and seats both amidship and in the stern. The "gate" that serves as a rowlock for the sculling oar is another interesting feature of the bottom photo.

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Translatlantic Voyage in a Liberian Dugout Canoe

August 29, 2013, 12:04 pm

≫ Next: Ocean Voyages in Folding Kayaks

≪ Previous: More Tenmasens

Hannes Lindemann, 84, holds copy of Life magazine featuring his transatlantic kayak voyage

Hannes Lindemann in 2006, at the age of 84. He holds a copy of Life magazine, which featured him on the cover following his 1956-57 transatlantic solo voyage in a folding kayak. (Click to enlarge.)

Dr. Hannes Lindemann is well-known to historically-minded kayakers for his east-to-west solo crossing of the Atlantic Ocean in a folding kayak in 1956-57. Less famous is his similar solo crossing just one year previous in a dugout canoe. We'll focus on Lindemann's dugout journey here; we'll address his kayak voyage, along with some other transoceanic kayak adventures, in a future post.

Lindemann, a German physician, was working in a Liberian plantation clinic for the Firestone Rubber Company in the mid-1950s when he began to solidify his long-held dream of a solo Atlantic crossing. He had previously met Alain Bombard, a Frenchman who had crossed the Atlantic in an inflatable raft in 1952 to test his theory that it was possible to survive "shipwreck" situations without fresh water by obtaining fluids from fish and drinking limited amounts of sea water. Bombard claimed that his voyage was completed under just those conditions, but Lindemann was skeptical, and he decided to test Bombard's theory.

After some unsuccessful attempts to have a dugout canoe built for him by local Liberian labor, Lindemann purchased a used canoe in questionable condition. It measured 23.5 feet LOA, with a beam of 29.9 inches, and it "had holes in the stern and bow, and in the bottom where it had lain on the ground. Also fungus growth had softened the wood somewhat," he wrote in Alone at Sea. But Lindemann thought the mahogany hull still essentially sound, and determined to repair its deficiencies. He named it Liberia II, the original Liberia being the first boat that he had attempted to have built for him locally, but which was accidentally burned.

Like Tilikum, Captain John Voss's ocean-crossing dugout canoe, Liberia II was a far cry from the original native design once Lindemann was done preparing it for sea. Lindemann planed the bottom of the hull flat, sheathed it with fiberglass, and attached a external keel 11.5 feet long and 5.1" deep and containing 250 lb. of lead. He "spanned her width with bent lengths of iron" (by which I assume he refers to internal frames), added fiberglass-covered plywood decks with a cockpit opening near the stern, and bulkheads enclosing watertight containers in the ends. On the exterior, he installed 10-inch thick cork sponsons near the waterline to reduce rolling. He writes that at this stage, the canoe "resembled the pirogues of the Carib Indians." Upon launching, the boat proved top-heavy, which Lindemann attempted to correct by the addition of bagged sand as internal ballast.

Lindemann's description of his rig is sketchy and confusing. It was apparently a sloop, with an ironwood mast that was stiff enough to "run even in the Gulf of Guinea without a backstay." Depending upon the point of sail, Lindemann had two mainsails from which to choose, a squaresail and a gaff, both of nine square yards, and a jib of three square yards. The boom, which was made of "rare red camwood, which warps even less than mahogany," could be rotated to reef the gaff mainsail. A rudder, controlled with cables, could be steered with either the hands via a tiller or by foot.

A 3-horsepower outboard engine was ruined when the boat capsized at the dock before the start of the voyage. Lindemann jettisoned the engine but made no other modifications to improve the boat's stability before setting off from Liberia in February, 1955.

This first voyage was a dismal failure. The boat proved unstable and prone to excessive rolling, and the rudder was too small to control it with the wind abeam. Apparently having forgotten to bring his antimalarial drugs, Lindemann was struck by a recurrence of malaria while underway and tossed most of his provisions overboard during a hallucinatory fit. The trip ended in Ghana just 17 days after it had begun.

Undeterred, Lindemann shipped the boat to Hamburg where he had a shipyard replace the internal ballast with additional external ballast, build a larger rudder, and add "a four-inch wide plank … around the cockpit so that I could sit there in comfort." It's unclear to me if this plank constituted a cockpit combing or a narrow cockpit seat. He then shipped the boat to Oporto and set off again in May on his second transatlantic attempt in four months.

Although his first attempt had demonstrated to him in just two and a half weeks that drinking salt-water was damaging to his health, Lindemann decided to resume the experiment. His daily liquid ration now consisted of seven ounces of sea water and "almost a quart and a half of other liquids [including evaporated milk and mineral water mixed with red wine]. By the second day edemata [i.e., edema, the accumulation of liquids between the cells] had developed, which soon extended up to my knees."

This second attempt was no more successful than the first. The rudder broke two days after a stop in Morocco; Lindemann determined that the new rudder design was too large, and he cut it down and reinstalled it. He lost it altogether shortly thereafter, along with both of his sea anchors. Steering with a paddle for 14 days, he made landfall in Villa Cisneros, in Spanish West Africa.

Lindemann wrote:

"During that time, my daily intake of sea water had been ten and a half fluid ounces, which I swallowed in doses of one and three-fourths fluid ounces six times a day, and now my feet and legs were swollen in spite of rest and exercises. I had proved to myself that there is no advantage to drinking salt water; it can, in fact, weaken a sailor's physical condition at a time when he needs all his strength."

Although this seems obvious now, this may be judging with the benefit of hindsight and the advantage of modern knowledge gained from experiments like those of Lindemann himself. On the other hand, I believe that the unhealthful effects of drinking saltwater had been recognized by sailors for millennia, though perhaps not scientifically demonstrated until after Bombard had promulgated his theory.

Lindemann shipped Liberia II from Villa Cisneros to Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands, where he again had a shipyard greatly enlarge the rudder and massively reinforce it. He also had made new sales and a canvas spray cover with an iron frame. Shipping a spare mast and oar, he relaunched in October.

For the next 18 days, Lindemann satisfied his fluid needs entirely from the juice of the apples and oranges he consumed. After discarding the remaining rotting fruit, he "switched to a daily liquid intake of fourteen ounces of evaporated milk and a mixture of one and a half pints of mineral water and a bit less than a half pint of red wine." He ate a raw onion daily which, he says, contained enough vitamins to prevent scurvy. He also ate six mouthfuls of honey daily, and some canned rations which are not clearly listed in his account, and frequently caught fish and ate them raw.

Although his boat was still far from perfect, this time it was good enough. "My narrow canoe rolled and yawed so badly that I usually took in the gaff sail and went under square sail at night." Following a tortuous voyage, Lindemann landed in St. Croix some time between December 29 and 31 (the account is unclear). He recuperated for ten days, then embarked again and sailed through a vicious storm to Haiti, thus completing his intended voyage, in a roundabout way, from the first Negro republic in the Old World (Liberia) to the first one in the New World.

[After much searching, I've been unable to find any photos or illustrations of Lindemann's dugout canoe Liberia II (although photos of his Klepper kayak are easily found). If any reader can steer me to a source, I'll gladly add images or links to this post and acknowledge the favor.]

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Ocean Voyages in Folding Kayaks

September 16, 2013, 2:56 pm

≫ Next: Folding Kayaks and "Indigeneity"

≪ Previous: Translatlantic Voyage in a Liberian Dugout Canoe

Hannes Lindemann's 1956-57 solo transatlantic voyage in a folding kayak is justifiably famous among kayak fans. (In our previous post we wrote about Lindemann's lesser-known adventure, in which he crossed the Atlantic solo in a dugout canoe just one year earlier.) We'll get to it shortly, but what's more surprising than that someone can traverse an ocean in a folding kayak is that it had been done twice previously, also by Germans, in trips equally if not more impressive.

Franz Romer in Deutscher Sport. Source: ExpeditionKayak.com
(Click any image to enlarge)

The first such voyage was in 1928, when Franz Romer did it in Deutscher Sport, a 21'6" Klepper outfitted with a squaresail rig. Romer sailed almost 4,000 miles, from Lisbon to Puerto Rico, via the Canary Islands, in 58 days. In San Juan he fitted his kayak with an outboard engine before setting sail again. His next destination: New York. Unfortunately, he sailed into a hurricane and was lost without a trace. It has been speculated that the engine upset his kayak's natural balance and seaworthiness, and that he might have survived the storm without it. (Some sources give St. Thomas as the end of his trip. On this matter, I'm relying on an account of Romer's voyage in Lindemann's book.]

Oskar Speck in his Pionier Faltboot. (Source)

In 1932, Oskar Speck, a failed electrical contractor, launched his Pionier Faltbootwerft-brand folding kayak on the Danube River in Ulm, intending to sail to Cyprus, where he hoped to get work in a copper mine. When he reached Cyprus, however, he decided to go further. A lot further, as in, Australia. He shipped the boat, along with its jib-headed, boomed-lug rig, to the upper reaches of the Euphrates River, sailed downstream to and through the Persian Gulf, along the coasts of the Arabian Sea and Bay of Bengal, and down the western coast of the southeast Asian peninsula. From thence, he passed through Malaysia and Indonesia and along the north coast of New Guinea, finally reaching Australia shortly after it had entered the Second World War. Speck, who proudly displayed a Nazi swastika on his jib but was unaware of the current political situation, was politely but promptly arrested, and he spent the rest of the war in an Australian prison camp.

Oskar Speck's route. Dotted lines indicate motor transport. (Source: Wikipedia)

Pionier replaced Speck's boat four times during the 31,000-mile voyage's seven year duration. Unlike Romer's and (later,) Lindemann's, Speck's voyage was mainly alongshore. He spent most nights on dry land, often had access to fresh food and good hospitality, and was able to take as many "down" days as he wanted. This in no way minimizes the scale of his accomplishment, and he is still, to the best of my knowledge, the only person to kayak the entire length of the Indian Ocean.

Hannes Lindemann's Atlantic crossing in a Klepper was apparently the last transoceanic voyage in a folding kayak, although there have been a number of crossings made in hardshell kayaks since that time. Lindemann was already contemplating a voyage in a folding kayak when he returned to Europe in April, 1956, following his dugout crossing. But where Lindemann's first voyage was meant to test Alain Bombard's theory that man could survive in a shipwreck scenario by drinking seawater, this time the crackpot notion upon which his voyage rested would be his own. He wrote:

"It was not until I learned something of voodoo in Haiti [at the end of his previous voyage] that I began to give really serious consideration to my new plan. Through voodoo I learned that one can, by deep concentration, a kind of self-hypnosis, change one's fundamental attitude toward a problem, that, ultimately through voodoo, one can rid oneself of fears and doubts. 'Impossible is not Haitian,' runs the motto of the newspaper in Jacmel…and this motto I took for my own."

Convinced that morale was a more important problem than physical skill or endurance, and fully expecting to suffer, Lindemann schooled himself in mind-control techniques, and took "never give up," "keep going west," and "don't take any assistance" as his mottos. He also attempted to acclimate himself to sleep deprivation, and relied on prayer during the voyage.

Hannes Lindemann in his Klepper Aerius II, Liberia, flying two squaresails and gaff main. (Source: Time/Life)

As on his third and successful attempt in the dugout canoe, Lindemann's kayak voyage departed from Las Palmas, in the Canaries. He had outfitted his 17-foot, Klepper Aerius II two-seater kayak (named Liberia, like his dugout) as a ketch, with squaresails on both main and mizzen masts (1.5 and .75 square yards respectively), and a larger, high-peaked gaff mainsail as well. The mizzen mast was "a paddle that sat on the aft washboard," and the steering cables could be actuated by either hand or foot. An outrigger consisted of a float made from a section of truck inner tube lashed to another paddle that served as the outrigger's single boom. As with his first dugout attempt, Lindemann set sail without a shakedown voyage. Finding the boat overloaded, he soon tossed a quantity of provisions, so that he ended up carrying 154 lb. of food and drink.

Although the outrigger boom was broken in a collision with a pilot boat as he was leaving Las Palmas, Lindemann soon fixed it and it held up throughout the rest of the voyage. Given the prevailing winds, the outrigger was on the lee side of the vessel for most of the voyage, and Lindemann occasionally wished for a second outrigger to lend greater stability to the boat. Even so, when he capsized twice in a Force 8 storm near the end of his voyage, it was over the outrigger float both times.

Lindemann arrived in St. Martin in January, 1957, having found the 72-day crossing no less an excruciating trial than he expected. Although he attributed his success, in part, to the Voodoo-inspired program of affirmations and mind control, it should be noted that he had succeeded on his previous voyage without those aids.

Of history's three ocean-spanning folding-kayak voyages, Lindemann's is the best known. No doubt this was partly because he wrote a book about his adventure, but also because his movie-star good looks landed him on the cover of Life magazine.

Sources:
Most of the content concerning Lindemann comes from his book, Alone at Sea.
Some information about the other two voyages comes from ExpeditionKayak.com, which includes a rundown of several impressive kayak voyages.
Here is a great deal of detail on Oskar Speck's voyage, including his own account (in English translation).

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Folding Kayaks and "Indigeneity"

September 18, 2013, 9:21 am

≫ Next: A Catamaran with an Outrigger?

≪ Previous: Ocean Voyages in Folding Kayaks

Soon after posting the previous article about ocean voyages in folding kayaks, I began questioning its relevance to the larger subject of indigenous boats. Allow me to ramble:

While the subhead of this blog is "small craft outside the western tradition," in conversation, I usually expand that to "outside the western tradition of plank-on-frame boatbuilding." By "western," I mean specifically the European plank-on-frame tradition and the American tradition that derived directly from it. This allows this blog to explore the indigenous craft of North America (e.g., birchbark canoes), even though they are of the western hemisphere. It also makes available topics like European dugouts (not plank-on-frame), ancient Greek mortise-and-tenon-planked ships (plank on frame, but of a style outside of existing European construction methods), and dhows of the Indian Ocean (plank on frame, but non-"western" and of a style outside of existing European construction methods). All this supports the original and still current motivation for this blog, which is to write about a wide variety of boats that aren't being extensively covered by numerous other blogs. Others cover the likes of Viking ships, whitehalls, Concordia yawls, Iain Oughtred, et al, quite well and thoroughly, and the world doesn't need yet another blog about these beautiful, traditional and traditionally-inspired boats of the Euro-American sort.

Getting back to folding kayaks and their ir/relevance to this blog: they're obviously not of plank-on-frame construction. But are they "western," and are they, or are they derived from, a culture or tradition that we might call "indigenous"?

It's often claimed that modern folding kayaks are direct descendants of the original Eskimo kayak. One source among many where I've seen this argument is Complete Folding Kayaker by Ralph Diaz:

"(K)ayaks are truer descendants of the Eskimo kayak than are rigid kayaks. Foldables can make that claim, because they adhere more closely to the design and materials principles of the kayaks developed by Northern peoples some 10,000 years ago."

In my opinion, this is only half-true: the half about the "materials principles." As a skin-on-frame structure, folding kayaks are indeed closer to their original Eskimo forebears than any kayak made of plywood, planks, plastic or composites. But as to "design," I object.

By most accounts, recreational paddling got its start in the 1860s in England, popularized by John MacGregor and his voyages in the double-paddle canoe Rob Roy. Although Rob Roy was decked and propelled like a kayak, it also had a substantial European-style sail rig, and the hull design owed more to the shape of "Canadian" canoes (i.e., open canoes of the birchbark sort). Construction was conventional English lapstrake, except that it was unprecedentedly light in its scantlings.

John MacGregor in the decked canoe Rob Roy (click any image to enlarge)

Canoes based on this model became the norm for recreation, and they remained popular into the early years of the 20th century. The folding kayak, which was invented in 1905, followed the same model. While I don't know it for a fact, it's reasonable to assume that its inventor, in seeking to create a more portable boat, took inspiration from the Eskimo method of skin-on-frame construction. It's possible, though, that the inspiration came from the skin-on-frame tradition of another culture -- possibly even early European. Although materials and the engineering of the frame have changed over the years, the hull form of most folding kayaks (including the kayaks used by the three German adventurers featured in the previous post) is still quite similar to that of open canoes, and it is much wider than most Eskimo or Aleut kayak designs.

Lines of a decked canoe of the Rob Roy type. The sections and waterlines are clearly modeled on those of bark canoes.

Frame of a Klepper folding kayak. The sections are similar to those of the old Rob-Roy style canoe, which was itself based on the bark canoe, not the Eskimo kayak.

Summary of observations:

The modern folding kayak is outside of the plank-on-frame tradition.
The hullform of most folding kayaks (including the German boats discussed in the previous blog post) owes little to Eskimo kayak designs, but is based on the design of the bark canoes of more southern indigenous Native Americans.
The structure of the modern folding kayak might or might not have been inspired by Eskimo technology, but in all probability it took its inspiration from some indigenous skin-on-frame tradition.
Eskimo kayaks provided the model for a decked canoe propelled by a double paddle.

Conclusion:
While most modern folding kayaks owe little in terms of hullform or materials to an Eskimo or Aleut forebear, several of their aspects (double-paddle propulsion, decking, skin-on-frame construction, hullform following the bark canoe model) are derived from an indigenous nonwestern tradition, and this justifies their discussion in this blog.

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A Catamaran with an Outrigger?

October 1, 2013, 7:27 am

≫ Next: Ancient (?) Dugout Canoe Found in Florida

≪ Previous: Folding Kayaks and "Indigeneity"

A recent BBC story concerning a possibly marine-related archaeological discovery in Wales reports some off-the-wall speculation about the find's significance. (Before going further, I must acknowledge that general news media like the BBC are often poor sources of information on scientific issues, and the reporting might badly misstate the facts.)

Three closely-spaced channels were discovered dug into the ground near the site of a vanished lake in Monmouth. All are 30m long; two adjacent ones are 1m wide, and the third beside them is narrower. The channels appeared over a mound of charcoal that has been carbon-dated to the Bronze Age (2,500 to 800 BCE in Britain).

According to Stephen Clarke of the Monmouth Archaeological Society, the find represents a kind of launching ramp for a Bronze boatbuilding facility. Although no boat remains or evidence of woodworking have been found at the site, artistic reconstructions show the site used to launch a canoe with twin dugout hulls and an outrigger.

Everything about this interpretation seems misinformed. To start with the boat:

The use of monohull dugouts in Bronze Age Britain is well proven. There is no prior evidence for multi-hulls.
A twin-hulled canoe of the size and breadth shown in the reconstruction would provide more than enough stability for any conceivable conditions on a lake. The outrigger serves no conceivable purpose. (Has any boat anywhere, used on any waters, ever had two main hulls plus an outrigger? I doubt it.)
If the site was indeed a boat launch, three alternatives offer more likely and practical interpretations: i. three monohulls (two wide, one narrow); ii. a twin-hulled canoe and a narrow monohull; or iii. an outrigger canoe and a wide monohull.
There is also no evidence for the use of sails in Britain's Bronze Age, although a mast is shown in both reconstructions, and a sail in the line drawing.

But even the notion that the site represents a boatbuilding facility, or any sort of boat-related facility, cannot be accepted so easily. Aside from the absence of woodworking or boat-related artifacts, the trenches make little sense for the purpose of boat launching. If one wanted to drag a heavy boat up and down the shore, the last thing he would do is carve channels that would increase friction around the hulls. Friction would be much lower if the rounded hulls rested on a flat plane, and flat ground would also permit the use of rollers or, if the ground was too soft or sticky, launching ways similar to Hawaiian canoe ladders.

Even if the trenches did make sense as a launch ramp, there is no reason for them to have been so long. Assuming that the color illustration is accurate in its depiction of the slope of the shore and the trenches' location relative to the water level, the trenches extend much farther than necessary to haul the boat(s) entirely out of the (non-tidal) lake. The amount of extra work that would have been required to dig the trenches, and to haul the boat any farther than just out of the water, makes its use as a boat launch unlikely.

One final item: since the trenches were found above the charcoal, they must be of more recent origin. Britain's Bronze Age lasted for 1700 years or so, and the article doesn't report the exact carbon-dated age of the charcoal, but from the information available, it seems possible that the trenches were dug after the end of the Bronze Age.

I have no better, alternate interpretation for the find, but the current one seems to be based on a poor understanding of boats and how they are used. The BBC article claims that Mr. Clarke has a book on the subject in the works: this promises to be a fanciful piece of pseudo-archaeology, akin, perhaps, to the laughable and inexplicably well-known The Life and Death of a Druid Prince

.

(Thanks to Edwin Deady for pointing out the BBC article.)
(Both images are from the BBC article.)

Update (2 Oct., 2013): This article by the Daily Mail contradicts some details of the BBC article, and provides useful photos of the excavated channels. It states that the channels were cut through the charcoal deposits (dated to the early Bronze age), not over them. And it reports possible evidence of woodworking at the site, in the form of "sharp flakes of imported flint found alongside the channels." The article claims that "Prehistoric cave drawings in Scandanavia (sic) have been discovered depicting outrigger boats like the one built at Monmouth," but provides no backup for this statement. The images it shows of "similar" boats of the historic period depict double canoes and single-outrigger canoes, but no double canoes with outriggers.
(Thanks to Tom Rankin for pointing out the Daily Mail article.)

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Ancient (?) Dugout Canoe Found in Florida

October 3, 2013, 5:12 am

≫ Next: A Personal-Commercial Note to My Readers

≪ Previous: A Catamaran with an Outrigger?

AP photo. Click to enlarge.

According to an AP article carried by Fox News (among others), a well-preserved dugout canoe was recently recovered from a lake near Ocala, Florida. The article includes little detail about the boat, other than its approximate length ("nearly" 20 feet), but it is generally factual, and it makes no assumptions, wild or otherwise, as in the case of a possibly-marine-related finding reported in Wales.

In spite of the AP reporter's good efforts, however, the Fox headline writer felt compelled to juice the news, calling the find an "ancient" canoe when, in fact, its age is unknown. While "ancient" isn't an objective term, I think most would agree that it shouldn't be applied to archaeological finds in North America dating to the 19th century or later. Until carbon dating is completed, it's impossible to say whether the canoe at hand is any older than that.

It could, in fact, be younger. From the photo, it looks to be in excellent condition. The caption to the AP photo refers to a "burn mark" on the inside of the boat, but doesn't indicate whether this was an artifact of the construction process. Burning was a common method used to hollow out a logboat, especially prior to the introduction of steel tools by Europeans into the Americas, but other explanations for the mark are possible.

As I observed in the previous post about the finding in Wales, the general news media is often a poor source of science information. This is often due, I'm sure, to the lack of science training among general-news reporters, and to the tight deadlines they face which prevent them from carefully checking and clarifying facts and statements. In the present case, however, it was the headline writer who's at fault, trying to make more of a story than is really there.

That this was Fox's doing can be easily demonstrated. Google the first sentence of the AP article, and you'll see the story reported verbatim by many news sources. Only Fox inserted the word "ancient" into the headline.

(Thanks to Anneli Skaar for pointing out the article.)

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A Personal-Commercial Note to My Readers

October 4, 2013, 6:20 am

≫ Next: "The Boyne Currach" -- A Review

≪ Previous: Ancient (?) Dugout Canoe Found in Florida

Dear Readers,

I've been informed by Amazon that my Amazon Associates account will be terminated after Sunday, October 6, along with the accounts of all other Amazon Associates in Maine. This is Amazon's response to a new Maine law which creates nexus for companies that engage in internet affiliate marketing relationships. In other words, the state of Maine will now require Amazon to collect sales tax if it has affiliates here, and Amazon's response was discontinue affiliate marketing in the state.

This blog is an Amazon Associate, promoting products on Amazon through the Indigenous Boats Store and through occasional product-specific ads at the bottom on some posts (like this recent post about long voyages in folding kayaks). I'm not sure if Amazon plans to take down the Indigenous Boats Store altogether, or simply stop paying referral fees for sales that originate there. But in any case, this source of (very limited) supplemental income is about to disappear for me.

If you had planned any purchases of books on canoes, kayaks, rafts, sampans, umiaks, coracles, or any other subject covered by this blog, please consider doing it through the Indigenous Boats Store before October 7. I will receive a small commission on your purchase, which will be priced the same price as if you went directly to Amazon. Orders and returns are also handled the same way.

FYI: You can also access the Indigenous Boats Store via the advertising band that appears just below this blog's header when viewed in a standard browser. It does not appear in Blogger's mobile version.

Many thanks,

Bob Holtzman, blogger

p.s., For those with an interest in affiliate marketing, here's Amazon's letter:

Greetings from the Amazon Associates Program.

We're writing from the Amazon Associates Program to notify you that your Associates account will be closed and your Amazon Services LLC Associates Program Operating Agreement will be terminated effective October 6, 2013. This is a direct result of the unconstitutional Maine state tax collection legislation passed by the state legislature and signed by Governor LePage on June 5, 2013, with an effective date of October 9, 2013. As a result, we will no longer pay any advertising fees for customers referred to an Amazon Site after October 6, nor will we accept new applications for the Associates Program from Maine residents.

Please be assured that all qualifying advertising fees earned prior to October 7, 2013, will be processed and paid in full in accordance with your regular advertising fee schedule. Based on your account closure date of October 6, 2013, any final payments will be paid by December 31, 2013.

While we oppose this unconstitutional state legislation, we strongly support the federal Marketplace Fairness Act now pending before Congress. Congressional legislation is the only way to create a simplified, constitutional framework to resolve interstate sales tax issues and it would allow us to re-open our Associates program to Maine residents.

We thank you for being part of the Amazon Associates Program, and look forward to re-opening our program when Congress passes the Marketplace Fairness Act.

Sincerely,
The Amazon Associates Team

UPDATE, 5 October, 2013: This post was updated to more accurately reflect Maine's new tax law. A previous statement here concerning a sales tax on affiliate advertising was incorrect. Thanks to Cate Monroe, CPA, for the clarification.

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"The Boyne Currach" -- A Review

October 17, 2013, 7:18 am

≫ Next: Baffinland Inuit Kayaks, Settlement: Peabody Museum #1

≪ Previous: A Personal-Commercial Note to My Readers

The Boyne Currach: From beneath the shadows of Newgrange

, by Claidhgh (I understand it's pronounced "Clive") O' Gibne has received quite positive reviews. (Here's one, by Wade Tarzia.) I'm disappointed that I can't add to them. I find the book gravely flawed and seriously wanting.

The Boyne is a river in County Meath, Ireland, running generally toward the east and entering the Irish Sea north of Dublin. The river's common fishing boat was the currach, a small, nearly round leather-on-frame craft that in most of the British Isles is known as a coracle. (O' Gibne addresses the naming controversy.) The large landowners along the Boyne used to jealously guard their exclusive rights to fish the river, maintaining their own small fleets of currachs and hiring men to fish for salmon with seine nets. As O' Gibne tells it, in spite of privately-employed wardens and monitoring by the local police, poaching by private currach owners was widespread (but we'll make no puns -- none! -- about poached fish).

The Boyne Currach describes this local history. It also delves into the history and mythology of skin-on-frame craft in general; the history and folkways of the Boyne Valley; the ancient history of the Celts and Ireland; and the history of modern currach preservation efforts. There's a chapter (just one) on how to build a Boyne currach; another about the Boyne Currach Centre, which O' Gibne founded and maintains to perpetuate the craft of the craft; and a section about the Newgrange Currach Project, referring to an entirely different form of currach (the more familiar boat-shaped type, somewhat similar to Tim Severin's Brendan) which O' Gibne had under construction at the time of the book's publication.

Boyne currachs, 1848
(All images from The Boyne Currach. Click any image to enlarge)

This great variety of material is, in my opinion, one of the flaws of The Boyne Currach: it attempts too much in its 164 pages and loses coherence along the way. I would have liked more detail on the boatbuilding methods for both the types discussed. O' Gibne's description of the building process for the coracle-style currach is confusing and perfunctory (especially concerning leather tanning), and he merely glosses the construction of the larger boat-shaped vessel. There are, however, enough excellent photographs and (perhaps) enough usable illustrations so that one could build a coracle-style currach by referring to them and perhaps gleaning sufficient tidbits from the text to supplement them.

In this 1910 photo of a Boyne currach, the gentleman in the bowler hat is J.P. Holland, inventor of the first practical submarine.

In addition to its historical photos and illustrations, The Boyne Currach contains sketches by O' Gibne. These, though, are often mere decorations, and even among those that attempt to be informative, many are full of distracting, nouveau-Celtic imagery and other New-Agey psychedelia and therefore lacking in clarity.

Purportedly showing to how twist willow rods to make the rope that supports the seat in a currach.

When it comes to the history of currach folk on the Boyne, O' Gibne is indiscriminate, mixing history and anecdotes about fishing and poaching with irrelevancies about milking cows and riding bicycles. These decades-old bits of gossip may be of interest to local residents who recognize their neighbors' great-grandparents in them, but they're of little value to readers who's primary interest is the boats themselves.

Most significantly, The Boyne Currach needed an editor. The language is often idiomatic or just plain unclear, the organization disjointed, too many of the how-to explanations are sketchy, and the content frequently drifts off-topic. I find this inexcusable in a book that was peer-reviewed, as its publisher, Four Courts Press, claims all its books are.

I understand that this is harsh, and I take no pleasure in slamming what was a sincere and worthy effort. O' Gibne's research concerning the historical use of the Boyne currach is worthwhile to historians and students of folkways. His dedication to learning traditional currach-building skills and perfecting his own is commendable, and the boats he builds are lovely in the way that simple tools and antique technologies can be. That he has taken his love for the currach and turned it into a vibrant cultural-and-boating organization (The Boyne Currach Centre) is admirable. Thanks to O' Gibne, there are now many boaters campaigning their home-built currachs on the Boyne and elsewhere, and that's just flat-out wonderful.

The Boyne Currach is not entirely lacking in value. As noted, it contains much that will be of use to historians, and its historical photos and illustrations are quite revealing of the currach's construction and use. It is, however, difficult to read and lacking in the clarity and detail that could have made it much more useful to boatbuilders and boat history enthusiasts.

NOTE: I know The Boyne Currach is well-liked by some of my readers. I welcome opposing viewpoints in the Comments.

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Baffinland Inuit Kayaks, Settlement: Peabody Museum #1

December 1, 2013, 12:29 pm

≫ Next: Alaskan/Aleut Diorama, Kayaks: Peabody Museum #2

≪ Previous: "The Boyne Currach" -- A Review

This is the first of several planned posts featuring boat-related displays at the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology at Harvard University. This post focuses on a single diorama of a late 19th-century Eskimo (Inuit) settlement in Baffinland, typical of the culture north and northwest of Hudson's Bay. As this was a distinctly maritime culture, I feel it's appropriate to include discussion of some elements that are not strictly boat-related, such as their housing arrangements.

The Baffinland Eskimo diorama at the Peabody Museum, Harvard University (click any image to enlarge).

The left side of diorama shows the settlement in summer, with the ground bare of snow. In the background is a semi-subterranean, prehistoric dwelling that has been reconditioned for re-use with a covering consisting of two layers of skin, with a layer of heather in between as insulation. Rocks hold the skin against the ground. Note the long, narrow, stone-covered trench entryway.

Near the entry is an inflated sealskin float attached by a long line to a harpoon. When an Eskimo succeeded in harpooning a seal, sea lion, walrus or whale, the float slowed the prey's flight, served as a marker for its location, and prevented it from diving deeply (thus making it an easier target for additional harpoon strikes), or sinking when it died.

Closeup of the previous scene: When not in use during the summer, kayaks were stored well aboveground on stone pillars, to protect their covers from being eaten by hungry dogs.

The right side of the diorama shows a different part of the same settlement in winter, with snow on the ground. The pillars on which the kayaks are stored are made of snow blocks here. In addition to protecting them from hungry dogs, this also prevents them from being covered by snow drifts.

Left background: meat and blubber storage on a platform of granite blocks.

Center background: an igloo under construction. From the display card: "The entryway in the house under construction slopes down gently before abruptly rising into the main vault. This design serves as an effective cold trap for frigid air, enabling the living area to remain warm and comfortable."

To that igloo's right, a man cuts blocks of snow for its construction. Care was taken to cut the blocks from drifts that accumulated during a single storm. This ensured that the blocks were of consistent composition, and avoided layered blocks that might split apart when cut.

Close-up of the right side of the diorama, with the display card's description: "This structure houses two families who share one entrance. The small protruberances along the entryway are storage rooms for either clothing, spare meat, or blubber. The main vault for these winter quarters could be as much as twelve feet high and twelve to fifteen feet in diameter."

Also of note is that the igloos are lined with hide. It's barely visible around the base of the cutaway structure at right rear. Cords tied to the wooden toggles visible on the exterior of that igloo and the one to its left pass through the snow-block walls to secure the lining.

Close-up of the three kayaks on the diorama's right side.

The deck gear on the upright kayak includes a sealskin float on the rear deck and, on the foredeck, a shallow, round container that holds the line attached to a harpoon. A very long paddle with very narrow blades, apparently tipped with bone or ivory, rests across the bottoms of the other two overturned boats.

The kayaks in the diorama are similar and many respects to the Baffin Island kayak from Cape Dorset shown in Adney and Chapelle's The Bark Canoes and Skin Boats of North America. The boats' bottoms are flat in transverse section; the back of the cockpit coamings are straight; the aft decks are low and flat; and the stems are extremely raked and very long above the waterline.

The Peabody Museum houses excellent permanent and temporary exhibits and collections, mostly of American cultures but also including some other parts of the world. It's attached to a museum of natural history that's included in the price of admission, and both are well worth a visit.

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