My garage is made of boat parts!

Before any serious work can start on the Blanchard, a very large scale game of musical chairs has to be played. The spot where the boat sits is on a gravel pad next to the garage, about 15 x 45 feet. Previously, the pad was where I kept the old boat, a 1962 Thompson Seacoaster (which is for sale!), and a dump run trailer, and 1.9 gajillion different and unique species of alien weeds and venomous snails, all guarded by the Centipede Army. Inside the garage, which contrary to popular belief is NOT a wormhole into a parallel universe where storage space is infinite, is where 2 scooters, 3 motorcycles, one small sailboat, unused gardening stuff, and 30 tons of rat crap are stored, guarded by the natural enemy of the centipede, the Big Creepy White Bodied Spider Brigade. So, to make space and finance the fixing of the Blanchard, I need to sell the Thompson. To sell it, I need to pretty it up and fix a few things, otherwise it's a "Needs TLC" deal, and I lose my shirt. To fix the Thompson during the upcoming long season of rain it needs to go in the garage. Did I mention that the garage is rotting from the inside out? It was very heavily built in 1928, framed with 4x4's and shiplap siding. It has a coffin-sized grease pit for working on your car, and for an added bonus, the drain in the floor of the pit leads, I assume, right into the Seattle storm drain system. (I don't care if it's mid afternoon on a sunny day, it's CREEPY AS HELL getting into what for all intents and purposes is an open grave in your garage. It doesn't help that it's also the headquarters of the CWBS Brigade)

So, the project has been to clean the garage, reframe the VERY rotten back wall, (seriously, if the T1-11 siding I installed a while back hadn't been caulked together, the wall, and at least half the roof would have collapsed by now. That's right, load bearing caulk) support the sagging rafters, and get a lot of junk out. During the reframing, we learned that a decent number of studs were in fact 4x4 tubes, with a thin veneer of wood surrounding a surprisingly large quantity of wood flour, apparently a byproduct of whatever has been eating the wood for the last 80 years. When you tap them with a hammer, or cut them with a Sawzall, the board collapses and a huge tan cloud of rot fungus jets right into your face, I assume causing absolutely no health risks whatsoever.

Also found among the rotten powder tubes are a 4x4 and a 2x6 made of what may be white oak, which I will need lots of when I replace the frames on the Blanchard. It may also be red oak, which to my understanding will not work for steam bent frames. Since white oak can take on a red hue over time, and red oak can bleach out to a light tan, just like white oak, I will need to do more research. There's also a lot of very old cedar, which could conceivably make it's way onto the hull when I start any planking repairs. (The shear plank looks to be toast.)

It would be pretty funny if I could gradually change all the unused lumber in the garage into boat parts. Ideally without introducing some exotic new rot spores into the boat.

Captain Andy and 1st mate Simple Green!

Here are some shots of the bilge, after a good scrubbing and removal of all the unnecessary crap:







I have decided to replace pretty much all of the frames, enough of them have rot and/or breaks that I would just be worrying about the ones I left behind. I haven't pulled any out yet to see what the planking underneath looks like, but overall the planks look like they might be OK. The sheer planks are pretty rough, I think as a result of the decks leaking for a long time.

I have built a kickass steamer box for the upcoming frame job, out of an old turkey fryer, and assorted furnace duct parts. The burner sounds like a jet engine (and living in the shadow of Boeing Field, I sure as hell know what a jet engine sounds like!), and will boil 3-4 gallons of water in no time. It also looks more like a meth cooker than anything I've built before. If there were any grizzled Appalachian hillbillies walking by, they would probably say it looks like a moonshine still, but it's the 21st century for pete's sake, get with the program!

This is what one of these beasts looks like if you were to remove it from your yard and put it in the water:



And here is me on my old Blanchard. Note that life has not yet crushed my gentle spirit. I also seemed to have hair:

One More Time...

Or, another attempt to document something, knowing full well that what will be documented is my total inability to stick with something for any length of time

This time will be different, I just know it! This time: a goal, a project, something to document besides the excruciating minutae that is my life!

The project:


















A 1947 Blanchard Sr. Knockabout, hull#53 out of 97 originally built.



















The interior appears to be very clean and original, under a lot of grime and stuff. Note the manly ropework curtains. Not macrame, manly ropework!



















Some decently sistered frames. I will assume that any unrepaired frames are due for replacement, as will most repaired ones.















At first glance, the keel bolts seem somewhat new. I'll investigate further, but it's a good sign.















The original electrical panel. I love this kind of stuff!

OK then, there's the boat as she sits in my back yard. First step will be to remove everything that's not nailed down, then most of what is. I know that there will be new decks, maybe not all over but plenty nonetheless. The deck framing seems serviceable at first glance. Some hull frames will be replaced, if not all of them. I assume that I will have many opportunities to learn how to replace carvel planks, but so far the planking looks good. To summarize: Not a bad project, I give it a year. (Note to self: Don't forget to come back and read this last sentence in 16 years when the boat is still on blocks and I am dead)

Dropkick Murphys Bring Out Andy Bookwalter’s Secret Skinhead

Note: This article originally appeared in Seattle's community music and culture site nadamucho.com.

February 28, 2008

Dropkick Murphys are the greatest band in the world, and I’ll stab anyone who says otherwise.

Lumped in with plenty of great but inferior street punk bands like The Swingin’
Utters, Flogging Molly and The Bouncing Souls, DKM remind me what punk rock
meant before life crushed my delicate spirit.

I was a small town teenage slacker in the early 80’s, and punk promised
me a community and an escape from suburban mediocrity. Punk then broke that
promise, as will any subculture based on teen angst and beer.

After a few years of watching one punk rock dive bar after another become
condos and parking lots, I got bitter. Then one day I heard “Cadence To Arms,”
the opening shot from Do or Die and it all came back to me.

I dove into Oi! and street punk boots first. I gave myself a buzz cut
with clippers over the bathroom sink. I got myself a flight jacket and a pair
of braces. Soon I discovered two things:

30 is too old to become a skinhead, and I didn’t like getting into fights.
Since skinheads spend huge amounts of time being defensive and
punching people who call them racists, then generally turn into rockabilly guys
or football hooligans well before 30, I decided to turn in my membership card
before it got stamped. Still some things stuck with me, and through it all
Dropkick Murphys kept churning out anthems for blue collar guys, unions,
drunks, fat bagpipe players and the Red Sox.

If a DKM song didn’t grab me right off the bat it turned out I wasn’t
hearing it at the right time. Their latest CD, The Meanest of Times, celebrates family, both the blood variety and the other kind that you get to choose. As a theme, it’s thoroughly un-punk.

While I was evolving rapidly in and out of skinhead culture, DKM
were evolving and growing as well. They never stopped celebrating working
class solidarity, loyalty to your friends and general betterment. Since Do or Die their original lead singer Mike McColgan (current Boston
fire fighter and Street Dogs singer) left and was replaced by Al Barr, formerly
of the longtime Oi! band the Bruisers. Bassist/vocalist Ken Casey still sings
like he wants to grab you by the shirt and shake you, while Al sounds like he’d
rather wait and just kill you while you’re waiting for the bus.

Get a job in a dusty, noisy place, work your ass off for a while and on a tired Friday
afternoon on the way home put on “Worker’s Song” really loud, and it will all
make sense.