WHY?

Do not ask me why I wanted to build a boat. I've asked myself that question several times in the past few years and I never got a reliable answer. And why a cat? Well, there's a complex answer to that one. There was that chance meeting with the Grand Old Man of Cat-sailing, James Wharram, who first amused and then converted me; I will not bother you with the reasoning, it's a belief.

Then there was PBO nr. 190, Nov. 1982, featuring the Woods-designed "Cockleshell Hero", that looked just that little bit more sophisticated than the Wharram designs. Mind you, I have no objections to nudes on the foredeck talking to the dolphins, but in our climate the nudes will freeze to death and even the dolphins have to wear foul weather gear, so a little bit more living space belowdecks seemed indicated. Finally, available building space dictated a long, narrow and shallow shape. A 28 feet cat hull can be build in an extended garage of 12 x 3 meters, where a 22 feet monohull cannot.

One of the attractions of the Woods designs is the apparent simplicity. To quote PBO: "... the drawings looked clear and comprehensive, and with two flat-sided hulls they should be easier to build than most". Now are they? The proof of the pudding....

Let's do full credit to Richard and Lillian right from the start: Building their designs, in my case the "Surfsong" is indeed relatively simple- and that statement leaves ample room for qualification. Overall, I found only three errors in the design, none of them of great consequence - and the Woods promptly corrected them in their design. The only obvious omissions I found were a clear warning to fit backing pads for deck fittings prior to decking, and to make appropriate drain holes in the outside lockers - and these could be easily corrected.

The Woods were also always available for consultation - good service! The drawings and instructions were very clear indeed, but the materials list was a definite underestimate.

WHAT?

Mine is a "Surfsong", a slightly smaller, but otherwise identical version of the "Cockleshell Hero" featuring in PBO 190. Like most early Woods designs, she is of the open bridgedeck variety, with all accommodation in the hulls. So-called "wings", ply boxes protruding inward from both hulls, provide sitting accommodation in the cockpit area - and plenty stowage space inside. The hulls are rather narrow, so the double beds drawn in both forward cabins looked fit for very young and ardent lovers only. I modified the port hull to have an extra single bed aft. The plans also specify an outboard in the starboard aft stowage, but I opted for an outboard housed in a well mounted on the cockpit sole, with the cover doubling as tabletop.

HOW?

I elected to build the hulls in GRP, with bulkheads, decks and superstructure in marine ply. Oregon pine was used for deck-stringers, angled ply connections etc. An all-ply version is also possible. In the GRP version, flat GRP sheets are bonded to ply V-shaped bulkheads, set upside down in a temporary jig. Laying up the hull panels is heavy work and messy, but not difficult (not fool-proof either). They're done on a 900 x 175 cm. table, made of Formica-topped chipboard (Don't go for the cheap foil variety which is not resistant to resin). A company specialising in building those fancy interiors for glossy high-tech offices provided me with oversized sheets - 300 x 175 cm, so I had two butt joints only. They also had a nice little tool that made grooves at exactly the right height on the butt ends, allowing exact alignment with the help of small wooden inserts, known as "biscuits" in the trade. The joints were covered with ordinary transparent tape.

I also built a movable bridge that spanned the width of the table, allowing me to work directly over the areas to be glassed. Woods says that wax and release agent are unnecessary, but I would not bet on that. I used both, and wherever I spilled resin on unwaxed surfaces of the table, I needed a chisel to get it off, with a lot of damage to the surface as a result. The first two layers of the lay-up are gelcoat. It's a waste of money to put pigment in it, as the finish will be spoiled when bonding the hull to deck and "keel" (if that's the right word for the narrow flat bottom that connects the topped-off V-shaped bulkheads). With the benefit of hindsight, it might even have been better to eliminate the gelcoat altogether and rely on epoxy fillers and ditto topcoat for a smooth finish. A powerful electric drill with an oversized strainer in it is a great help for stirring in the catalyst, but it is advisable to fix the resin bucket quite firmly! I did not the first time, and needed a gallon of solvent to clear up the mess.

Speaking of solvents, for polyester resin one needs either acetone or methylene chloride. The former is highly flammable, the latter is much more irritating to the skin and mucous membranes. It is also toxic at high concentrations; it is a narcotic, and its metabolism causes increased carbon monoxide levels in the blood. Both are expensive. So these solvents are not to be used for irrelevant tasks such as cleaning brushes and rollers. These can be cleaned by rubbing in a hot and strong solution of ordinary household soda, followed by several rounds of wash-up liquid and rinsing. The whitish fluffy stuff that results from washing with soda is chemical waste. It will also clog up the drain. It's good practice to pour the rinse water into a sand-filled drum with a pierced bottom. The drain-off is clear, the remains can be burned when dry.

The original design specified an all-glass layup with a type of combined roving/CSM that is not available in Holland. After consultation with Richard, I opted for a sandwich construction of Rovimat (300 gms woven roving + 300 gms CMS stitched together) and Coremat - This eliminated the need for foam-and-glass stringers, but as supports for shelves, beds etc were needed just the same, the gain in weight and labour is minimal. I do not know whether it is due to this skin construction, but I did have problems when the hulls were faired prior to painting. Once the surface was smooth, it turned out that in several places the skin had "scalloped", that is shrunk inwards at the sheer; millimetres only, and structurally of no consequence, but terribly ugly. It took a lot of fiddling with the wooden rubbing rails to correct this optically. I'd certainly advise others to fit a two-by one "gunwale" prior to bonding the skin, in order to prevent this.

Anyhow; after the two layers of gelcoat two layers of Rovimat were laid up, followed by the Coremat. This had to be rolled in with resin on one side,then turned over and fully saturated. On the third panel, I could not work wet-in-wet at this stage for some reason or other. On my return, the hardened surface of the Coremat had a somewhat hairy aspect. Blissfully ignorant of what was to come, I proceeded to lay up the last layer of Rovimat. When I returned the next morning, some 60% of the surface had a silvery sheen when viewed under a narrow angle. This clearly indicated that there was a layer of air between Coremat and glass! And indeed, large strips of glass, attached to the top of the "hairs" only, could be pulled off effortlessly. The remaining 40% could not and had to be ground off with a belt sander. As soon as the beltsander hit the Coremat, it sank away right down onto the lower glass layer. So in effect, the entire 12.5 square meters had to ground off - 6 bin-liners full of resin and glass dust and a severe itch all over my body for several days!

The plans clearly show how to cut out the bulkheads with a minimum of waste. This implies that some have to be made up of two pieces. I tried scarphing on the first hull, but reverted to butt-end joints on the second - so much simpler! Cutting the bulkheads out of full-size ply sheets is best done with an electrical jigsaw - but to do so requires a large bench, lots of space for moving around and a helper to support the free ends. Lacking all three, I resorted to cutting with the sheets standing, clamped to judiciously placed uprights. All cuts were made leaving some 5 cms on both sides of the uprights untouched. The uprights then were reclamped at a distance and the final cuts made. Hey presto - singlehanded, but everything under control!

Setting up the bulkheads in the temporary jig is quite a fiddle, especially when done singlehandedly. I devised the clamps shown in the drawing to alleviate this problem. They can be set to hold the bulkheads slip-fashion; having found the right position, the wedges are hammered in, hereafter screws can be added at leisure. This type of clamp is also useful when gluing wide scarphs in ply. Once set, the bulkheads are temporarily interconnected with a chipboard backbone that is also better beefed up a bit (bolthead screws are much easier to remove later than ordinary screws in that confined space at the narrow end of the bulkhead).

The skin panels have to be offered up to mark the sites of the bulkheads, then taken off again for grinding the appropriate places. This creates a lot of stress on the jig, so it's advisable to put in rather more braces than shown in the plans. GRP grinding is best done with a small electric disc grinder - an indispensable and versatile tool. Goggles and a face mask are a must, though, and a real face mask at that, one with a filter for respirable dust.

Glassing the bulkheads to the skin is simple, once you know the trick. Do not try to stipple the resin into the glass "in situ" It's incredibly messy and smelly in the confined space under the inverted hull, and results in a poor bond - too much resin is the rule rather than the exception. Instead, lay a strip of thick PVC or polythene foil on a convenient surface. Put the desired length of glass on top and use a roller to saturate the glass (I used Rovimat, with a slightly narrower strip of 600 gms CSM on the inside). Then lift the plastic and press the lot into its allotted, pre-coated position - CSM first, of course. Remove airbubbles by gentle rubbing and firm rolling. (Do not try to remove the plastic now if the outer layer of glass is CSM or you'll have a very hairy strip of plastic to deal with!). Although Richard deemed it unnecessary, I still applied fillets of polyester fairing paste to get a nice rounded angle and avoid "hotspots".

Glassing the ply "keel" to the skin on the outside is again quite straightforward,but the gelcoat on the outside of the skin has to be removed right down to the first layer of glass. A belt-sander is the best tool for this job. If one has to hire this tool, remember to do the sheerline and stem area as well at the same time, for the outer hull-deck bound and false stem. The ply stem piece is glassed in, then covered with some 10 cms. of foam which is sanded into a nice rounded shape, again covered with glass. Hopefully this false stem performs more or less like a car-bumper when I hit the odd pier or post, destroying itself while taking up the strain. (Some four years of sailing and rough parking in confined spaces have shown them to be extremely strong.)

At this point the upside-down hull must be turned over. Many a sleepless night was spent in preparation. Tackles, cordage, jacks - I had them all. But my helpers - the complete basketball team -ignored me and all the tools. They manually lowered the hull until the wing edge rested on some old tyres - then, they lifted the opposite gunwale until she stood squarely on the wing. One man easily held the hull upright, while the others pulled over the hull-cum-tyre assembly as close to the other side of the garage as possible. Then they walked around to the other side to catch and lower the keel. Four man and several crates of beer is all it takes!

Fortunately I had remembered to make two sturdy cradles, using the still upside-down hull to get the right shape. At this stage, the hull is still very floppy, so careful alignment is a must. The two cradles, at both ends of the "wings", proved insufficient. Strong uprights had to be bolted to garage roof and floor fore and aft and crosspieces added to keep everything in alignment. Now the bearers for shelves, beds, table etc were glassed in. They all serve a double purpose - stiffening the ship length-wise being the most important one. This leaves little room for alternative layouts. I used foam pipe-insulation material, cut in half, as the core for these bearers, with the same glass layup on top for the skin-bulkhead bonds. Some fillets were again needed for nice bubble-free curves and corners.

Fitting the additional ply frames, wing- and aft decks is simple carpentry. As the hull-sides are flat, it is very easy to make simple templates for the frames with a batten and scrap ply - see drawing. At this stage, the jigsaw, a hand planer, hammer and (cordless) electrical screw driver are all the tools that are needed - plus a lot of good glue. I used epoxy, but one-pot WBP polyurethane glue is also fine, and easier to work with.

The side and aft decks are flat - a slight curve or slope would have improved drainage, although it would have made the installation of the deckfittings more complicated. The foredeck was a little more difficult. Richard specifies a triangular section wood stringer along the sheer to connect skin and deck - as indicated earlier a pre-fitted bulky "gunwale" would have been better. Here I also encountered one of the few errors in the design: The top curves of the additional semi-bulkheads (for the forward beam-box) and frames was too shallow. A straight deckline demanded that some additional battens be glued on top and planed to shape.

From this incident stems my advice to build both hulls at the same time. That is to say: finish a specific job on one hull and then do the same job on the second, but without the errors. I had to build the hulls in sequence, and I made almost all errors twice!. The foredeck was now screwed and glued in place. The curve was rather steep for the 7 mm. ply. Strong battens against the garage roof and some wedges did the trick, but up at the very stem I had to make a number of radial part-thickness cuts to prevent splitting. The cuts were later filled with thickened epoxy. (leftovers from other glue jobs).

Being a true-to-form amateur boatbuilder, I felt I had to tamper with the design a little. On the drawings, the flat foredeck hatch stands out like a sore thumb from the curved deck - and a real sheet-catcher, that! So I decided to have it follow the deck-curve. After fitting the double coaming (outer sawn Oregon pine, inner 9 mm ply), the opening was covered with hardboard. Pieces of foam were stuffed into the slit between inner and outer coaming and sanded into shape. The whole lot was then covered with clingfilm and glass, Coremat and resin were applied. On the first hull I had forgotten to wind a number of layers of masking tape around the outer coaming, so when the resin was fully hardened and shrunk, the hatch fitted so tightly around the coaming that a lever was needed to open it. I had to plane off a few millimeters from the outer coaming to correct this (about the only error I did not make twice).

I also modified the cockpit sole design; the transverse supports now rest in an anodized aluminum U-section bolted to the lower wing edge. By raising the boards a little I created an nearly invisible drain gap of about 300 cm2 along each cockpit side. With an additional 2 x110 cm gap fore and a 10x 110 cm opening below the aft beam, I felt there was no need to drill drain holes all over - and so far all the water coming aboard drained fast enough.

Next came the cabin roof. This is supported by 3-inch wide ply frames. This saves weight, but it also costs headroom. To save ply, I did not cut them out in one piece, but glued them up from offcuts. The doublings thus formed now leave me with the problem of how to hide the end-grain under a nice beading. So I'm considering to replace the frames with high-tech wood-and-Twaron composite beams to minimize weight and maximize strength (Twaron is a p-aramide fibre made by Akzo Nobel, and yes, I do have connections with them!).

Next came glassing-over of the hull-deck joints and hull-cabin joints, both from the inside and the outside. The same procedure as for the hull-bulkhead bonding can be used here. I covered all remaining butt and angle joints in the superstructure with glass tape and epoxy. It was a mistake not to remove the top layer of ply here for easy fairing. All ply surfaces were then epoxy-saturated twice, both inside and out. After the first layer the grain stood up excessively in some places. A sharp scraper, pushed rather than pulled proved the right tool for this job. Sanding paper is no good - it clogs up at the first touch, unless you're willing to wait several days for full hardening.

The first hull now had to be moved elsewhere to make room for the second. I went to all pains to secure her upright in the cradles on the flat farmers' cart - a needless effort, as in later transport the hulls were simply lowered to rest on the wing's edge- perfectly sound and stable. The second hull is essentially identical to the first, but for the centreboard case. One has to remember though, to mirror the bulkheads with the wing-extensions!

Fitting the centreboard case looked difficult but was not. It has its slot in the hull skin, not in the bottom, to prevent ingress of stones etc. when taking the ground. The panel size and shape had to be measured up carefully. The struts were fitted temporarily first, then measurements taken as seen in the drawing. The struts were then removed, fastened to the outside case panel and the whole lot was glued and screwed in place. The inside case panel was then prepared in the same way. Of course all inside surfaces of this case must be epoxied very carefully. Before fitting the inside panel, a row of guideholes was drilled through the skin along the lower edges of both panels. The slot was then sawn out from the outside, as the angle between bottom and skin on the inside did not accommodate the jigsaw. (Special blades are available for cutting GRP. These are non-toothed and covered with coarse abrasive material. A little slower than a toothed blade, but it keeps cutting where a toothed blade is blunted in seconds.) Finally, the case was bonded to the skin with glass tape and epoxy, both inside and out.

In between, the beams were assembled. The simple instructions ran "glue and screw together" Now that's an interesting puzzle: figure out how to "glue and screw" that complex cross section without taking resort to six-inch screws. Instead I made up some 40 clamps as per the drawing - courtesy to the late Bill Beavis' "The A to Z of cheaper boating". Absolute faith in the quality of epoxy glue is a prerequisite, of course- and a strong back, as they're over 30 kilo's each.

Unfortunately, absolute faith was not enough. After the first season, I found a number of faulty glue lines, causing water to get into the interior of the beams. Shoddy workmanship, no doubt, the defects probably due to too much spacing between the clamps and aggravated by heat stress as I had painted the beams black, thus increasing heat absorption to excess. I replaced them with anodized aluminum of similar section but sixfold stiffness, which I found at a builders' for a price that is incredibly low for people used to the price of aluminum mast section!

The beambox supporting the mast was much easier to fabricate and has stood the test of time. Just one recommendation here: it's best to set rubber spacers on the front (sorry, you mariners! "fore" of course) end of the hull wings, since the movements of the hulls against the beambox quickly rub off the paint. Similarly, a few rubber spacers between beambox and front end of the cockpit floor are needed. A friendly welder made the 16 beambolts, the shroud fittings and the rudder stocks out of stainless steel. Although not specified in the design, I had similar-sized SS backing plates made up for all the fittings - exchanging the weight penalty for peace of mind!

The 3 pieces of ply, pre-cut according to the drawings, were epoxy-glued to the rudderstock, then planed into a neat aerofoil shape. When the rudders were offered up to the transom, the top curves did not fit under the ship's end and had to be re-cut - the second error in the design. They were epoxied, covered with Twaron cloth and faired. At this stage, I made two decisions that I was to regret deeply later. The first one was not to do the fairing and painting myself. The hulls were manhandled into a mover's van and transported to a nearby yard. The hard-working owner of this one-man-and-his-wife outfit had agreed to do the job on an hourly basis, but both he and I had underestimated the amount of work. So progress slowed down to zero, as and when the season's demands had to be met.

The other mistake was to order a mast with the importer of a well-known French brand that's not to be named here lest they get the blame for the importer's actions. The man was very friendly and enthusiastic when I signed the contract and made a one-third deposit; But when it came to delivering, a full year after the contract was signed, total silence ensued. I called, called and called again, sent several registered letters, made a legal request for delivery but no reply, none at all. Of course I then took the case to court- or rather to the arbitration committee known as the "Complaints Committee for the Marine Trade" (Klachtencommissie Watersport), as was specified in the contract. Insult was added to injury when, three months after the complaint was registered, the company had the ugly nerve to demand immediate full payment and compound interest! The case moved at the usual arthritic snail's pace of anything connected to law and justice, but after three full years I finally had my mast - although not fully according to specifications. Sigh....The financial compensation, included in the verdict, was fair, but not generous - Dutch law does not acknowledge non-material damages. Deep sigh... The mastfoot that came with it turned out later to be of insufficient design and bad construction, and had to be redesigned. Deep, deep sigh....

You can imagine that this kind of trouble takes a lot out of the joy and fun - and nearly kills the incentive to do the final touches. So it was early summer 1994 before she was finally assembled assembled and launched. Here I discovered the third error in the design: the beambolts could not be fitted on the aft side of the aft beamcase, so four of them had to have a longer bolt welded-on.

Otherwise, fitting-out was pretty straightforward, but very time-consuming. I would advise all would-be builders to plan ahead, and fit doublers and strengthening pieces to take the deck equipment prior to decking - saves ages! Another stern warning: there is no short-cut to the correct use of sealing compounds! De-greasing, sandpapering, priming, tightening up after curing - do it all carefully, or do it all over again when afloat. Deep, deep, deep sigh....

I'll skip the launching, that is a yarn on its own. Suffice it to say that, empty, she floated well above the waterline, albeit a little bit down by the stem. This is fully compensated when sailing with the crew all centered in the cockpit. Unfortunately, the trampoline forward of the mast is everybody's favourite sunbathing position, so when showing off to boats passing by, I really have to whip the crew into line and back into the cockpit.

Very careful attention had to given to the rigging. Main and top shrouds are fastened with rope tails instead of rigging screws, and it is quite a fiddle to get everything correctly tensioned and retensioned after the initial stretching. The trick is to put a lot of play on the forestay and use the running backstays to heel the mast backwards. Then tension main and top shrouds by hand, and finally tension the forestay rigging screw until the beams squeak (lee rigging still tight in 15 knots of wind...) Repeat this exercise until the right balance is found. The rope tails look a bit out-of-place amid all the stainless steel deckfittings, but the idea is actually quite sound. 6 full turns of 6 mm prestretched polyester give at least double the strength of the 6 mm S/S shroud (actually 4 times, not counting potential strength losses due to knots and turns), yet is elastic enough to take some of the initial strain when a gust hits this broad-beamed, non-heeling vessel.

And now for the 10.000 dollar question: How does she sail? To begin with, this is obviously not a boat or a rig for beginners or the sedate cruising types! There's always many ropes to pull and adjustments to be made. Oversheeting has an immediately effect on rudder balance and leeway. Not taking remedial action does not result in heeling, as in a mono - but you'll find out later, when your position is 15 degrees off to leeward! She's also certainly not undercanvassed, and requires early reefing - top end of Force four at the latest for the first reef. No, she does not lift her windward hull here. Through sheer ineptitude I had to cope several times with strong gusts up to Force 6 with only one reef in the main, and all she does is turn to weather sharply. That is dangerous at times, of course, but it gives an indication of the enormous stability of the design! Anyway, with three reefs in the main and one in the genoa (plus a storm jib) I can reef at my heart's delight.

The summer of 1994 gave ample opportunity to test her light-weather performance - a dream. She starts moving on a whisper, and keeps moving under 20 m2 mainsail and 22.5 m2 flying drifter where 30 foot monohulls under spinnaker drift around aimlessly. With the foot of the flying drifter on a two feet strop, forward visibility is much improved, although a turning block is now required aft of the winches. On the other hand, by mounting this block on a rail athwartship, the drifter can be exquisitely fine-tuned for every wind angle.

With the tiller half over, she easily sailed in circles. She also sailed well under mainsail alone in winds down to Force next-to-nothing, providing that the main is fully released when going through the wind's eye. On the other hand, she really raced along under single-reefed main and 16 m2 genua in a force 5 to 6 quarterly wind - 12 knots, more in gusts, with water spouting from her rudders with the sound of a jetfighter and just enough additional weather helm to keep the helmsperson alert, but still relaxed single-handed steering! In a force 3 to 4 she just moves fast without any fuss. Only the position marks on the chart reveal the real speed (5 knots on a force 3 beam reach, 9 knots on a top of force 4, a honest-to God 12 knots over an 18 miles reach in a real breeze from Lelystad Haven to Hoorn and yes, we've done that several times, with independent witnesses on board too.) - no heel, no spray, only the jet engine noise from the rudders.

There is hardly any bridgedeck slamming, although the central engine well occasionally takes a battering and sends water up between the cockpit sole boards. Of course she has all the vices of a cat too - she can be squeezed to sail 100 degrees between tacks, but speed then drops alarmingly - 120 degrees is so much more fun!. With the single starboard centreboard up she also makes a lot of leeway when pointing. The centreboard improves windward performance perceptibly, but otherwise is a pain in the neck. The rope downhaul jams repeatedly between the centreboard head and the casing, requiring immediate surgery because with the centreboard halfway down she won't go about at all. I hope that replacing the downhaul rope with broad nylon tape will cure this annoying illness. I also had to dive several times to remove bundles of waterweeds. Who has a good design for low-aspect wing keels?

To go about is a ponderous exercise that asks for very careful timing. To maintain a modicum of turning speed, the foresail must be held aback until well past the wind's eye. Fortunately, she's quite easily called to order when "in irons" - absolutely no need for three-point turns and all that. Just release the jib and pull the mainsail over on the traveller to one side. As she weathercocks, slowly pull in the jib first, then the mainsheet - that's it, folks! For those used to the agility and pointing ability of a racing monohull all this looks pretty ridiculous, but the solution is simple: don't go for a tacking contest, just outsail them on a broad reach like Connors did to Fay.

Reefing requires some good coordination and speed of action. Initially, I felt desperate about reefing, because, head to wind, the boat tended to fall off as soon as I took a pull on the boom uphaul, and with full battens in the top it was quite a struggle to get the sail down. "Greasing" the track and slides with Teflon spray helped a lot, and by now we know exactly how to do it while maintaining boatspeed - the helmsperson maintains boatspeed by keeping the jib just on the edge of flapping, and the deckhand can manage the mainsail single-handedly. Woods also suggested a downhaul on the topboard, but I do not feel that is necessary.

The IJsselmeer can be quite choppy, and she takes that effortlessly, moving like a floating gull rather than forcing her way through. If, however, you try to drive her through the waves, she'll be slammed to a standstill and take a lot of water over the bows, so again it's a matter of falling off a little and tack a few more times as required.

And under power? Under power, (9.9 hp extra longshaft, electric starter, and controls on the outside of the central well) she makes 7 knots top speed, 4 knots at a more comfortable sound level, and she does as she's told - as long as you are going forward, that is. The turning circle is about three boat lengths. In reverse the bows drop off to leeward immediately, and a lot of noisy power and acres of space are required to bring her head-to-wind again. However, once the bows point downwind she can be steered backwards against and across the wind quite easily. To wit, I usually berth alongside in reverse against the prevailing south-westerlies that come off the marina quay obliquely. Quite spectacular - parking backwards like a van! In my opinion, the central engine well is to be preferred over the original design, if only for accessibility and weight-centering. There is also little or no aeration, and it should not be too difficult to couple the engine to the rudders for even better directional control.

And at anchor? I anchor on a lightweight aluminum Fortress anchor with 15 feet of chain and up to 150 feet of 10 mm nylon rode. Don't ever believe the stories about anchors needing weight, it's good design that matters! This lightweight buries itself immediately and completely in the mud of the Ijsselmeer with no more that the pressure of a Force two on the hulls, and in sandy bottom or clay it's almost impossible to get it out again. There is another 25 pound nameless spade anchor hidden somewhere, but that looks indecently heavy, and so far I've not needed a second anchor. The rode is connected to a bridle, which is attached to the forward main beam. Of course she swings and bobs somewhat more than a monohull of equal size, but I've discerned no tendency to sail around the anchor.

Is she comfortable? Well, it's like camping, really. If you want full standing headroom, hot and cold running water and a full-sized loo, you're in the wrong bracket altogether. There is standing headroom (well, sort of) just forward of the main bulkhead, but you'd have to remove the forward berth to get there. However, head and leg room in the center part is sufficient, the benches at a good height with a well-angled backrest (ship's side, actually) and the opposite work surfaces can be reached quite easily. There's acres of stowage in the wings and under the berths, and the only problem is to keep the weight down. There's a chemical toilet under the aft berth in the port hull, with a hatch overhead for ventilation - adequate, if you don't mind some crawling. And yes, there is ample space for the ardent loving in the forward berth. The design shows a nice fold-away navigation table in the starboard hull, but I haven't gotten round to fitting it. I always use a portable chart holder with a transparent write-on cover, so most of the navigation is done outside.

Inside, I covered one hull with ordinary cork floor tiling for insulation, just to see if it works. It does, it's cheap, easy to apply, unobtrusive and keeps away condensation very well, and I'll do the other hull as well. On deck, there's space for everything and everybody, sitting, standing or lying, and with a lot of foam cushions lying around there's no need for a wooden behind. But of course, the enormous open cockpit is very exposed, and some kind of hood may be required in the colder seasons -and a deck tent the size of a tennis court at anchor in summer.

How long did it take? Ages. I started in May, 1984 and launched in June, 1994! That's not due to the complexity, though; In fact, once the hull panels were done, it was not much more difficult than assembling a Mirror Dinghy, it just took longer. No, it's partly because of that legal action about the mast taking the guts out of me, partly because I treated the whole project as a hobby, working on it whenever I felt like it, never working on a schedule. Then of course we had the two coldest winters of several decades in a row, prohibiting work for many months. I also spent many evenings just looking and contemplating the next step - and still so many mistakes! Even so, the actual number of hours spent working must be between 1500 and 2000.

How much did it all cost? Well, it's not as cheap as suggested in PBO nr 190. Of course, the cost of cabin equipment, deck gear, mast and sails are partly dependent on what you're willing to spend, whereas other costs depend on the availability of friendly welders and suchlike relations. There were additional costs too, that are dependent on the situation; I had to rent space at the yard to store the hulls for quite a few years, others may have to pay more for the ply and for sawing and squaring the wood, not having access to a fully equipped carpenter's shop as I did, etc. It all adds up to a nice little secondhand monohull and ten years of sailing instead of toiling....

Was it worth it? Definitely yes. Boatbuilding is a very rewarding outlet for many frustrations. And I'm aglow with pride every time I feel those two sleek hulls slicing through the water. There's a lot of work still to be done, but that's all right. As long as I have some tinkering on hand, that will at least keep me from building another cat! For prospective builders, it may be reassuring that Woods took good notice off all comments, and incorporated most of them in his later designs. Some of these also cater for bridgedeck cabins and trailability - a nearly impossible combination, but still.. Personally I would not hesitate a second to buy another one of his designs and start building!

Footnote

Gluing and screwing the beams

Extemporise a flat and sturdy workbench of the same length as the beams, with its width at least equal to the height of the beams.

Use only the best quartersawn timber (VERY expensive), and apply it in such a fashion that "the heart of the wood is facing the sun", i.e. the inner curvature of the rings in the wood facing outwards.

Glue and screw the 1 x 2 timbers onto the outer ply panels using 1-inch stainless or copper screws at 10 cms intervals. Start screwing in the middle and work alternately towards both ends, even better: have a helper working outward from you. Otherwise, you might trap bending or warping stresses. Mark the position of the screws! Do not forget the inserts under the chock positions. Do realize that screwing 4.5 meters at 10 cms intervals takes a lot of time, so use a glue with a sufficiently long "open time", pre-drill etcetera.

Glue and screw the inner panels onto the 3 x2 timbers, make sure that the screws are in the same position as they are on the outer panels (you'll need the space in between for the final rows of screws). Now glue and screw the side panels to the inner box. You'll need to carefully pre-drill for this, since the screws will need to be 2.5 or 3 inches long! Aim to avoid the already present screws and do realise that there will be screws from the other side as well, so for either side drill the holes at 1/3 and 2/3 of the 10 cm interval respectively.

Be very careful when planing the top and bottom. You'll have the timber grain running in various directions so a power planer will do more harm than good. A router mounted on a large footplate or a big beltsander is the best, albeit slow alternative, otherwise use a very sharp finely set long plane and a lot of elbow grease. Round off edges to a 9 mm radius.

Cover with epoxy and one layer of 60 grams glass cloth, fair off with epoxy filler and sand to perfection. Paint in a light color to avoid heat absorption.

When fitting the chocks, drill through the glass layer with a very sharp drill at a very low speed to avoid lifting the glass. Bed the chocks in epoxy resin, fill the drill hole with low viscosity epoxy resin and dip the chock screws in it as well before screwing the chocks down.