Cathead

By Jerome Petsche. It's the main reference for this build, being the official record of the archaeological excavation. My copy holds a permanent spot on my workbench, and has its spine thoroughly broken from scanning the various drawings. I appreciate the thought, though.

Matt, I suspect you're thinking of the steamboat Arabia, discovered and excavated by a private group near Kansas City. They built a really neat museum right in downtown KC, a must-visit for any steamboat aficionado. I don't think very many steamboats have been recovered, at least in the Mississippi drainage. I don't know as much about the east or west coasts, but rivers there tend to be rockier and so wrecks are even less likely to be preserved. The Missouri and lower Mississippi rivers are best suited for preserving wrecks, as they're sediment-dominated and so could easily and quickly cover a wreck with sand/mud and preserve it. Anything that wrecked on, say, the upper Ohio or Mississippi or even the Columbia would be less likely to stay in one piece long enough to be buried. A ton of steamboats sank on the Missouri, it was a difficult and dangerous river to navigate. I've seen estimates, based on historic records, that there's a wreck location every few miles along much of the river. The average boat lasted only a couple years before sinking, burning, or blowing up. That said, there are good reasons very few have been recovered. One, lots of wrecks didn't stay intact; they burned, blew up, or were torn apart by the current. Two, those that remained intact were often salvaged quickly, leaving little behind. Three, those that sank intact but weren't salvaged were quickly buried by the river's ever-changing course, such that within days to weeks the boat was buried beneath a sandbar, island, or other landform, where it was quickly lost. The only way to find them now is with a metal detector, and that requires being very close to the wreck, which requires figuring out nearly precisely where it is, a very difficult procedure when you're standing in the middle of thousands of acres of soybeans or corn trying to find a river channel from the 1800s. This is all the more true because one of the top salvage priorities was the iron (engines, boilers, etc) so there are likely plenty of hulls left down there with not enough metal to trigger a detector. The Missouri's current channel bears only a tenuous relationship to its various courses in the 1800s; same for the Mississippi. So it really is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Completely natural. As a former geologist, I can assure you that channel movement is a basic function of rivers. A lot of factors go into how much and how fast a channel moves, including the bedrock or soil underlying the river, the discharge and its year-round variability, bank vegetation, etc. The Missouri was legendary for being an especially shifty river, though. Don't have time to go fully into it right now, but there are some great stories and imagery to prove it. Modern people get a false sense of security living along rivers that have been dammed and channelized into, basically, controlled flumes, but that's not a natural condition.

Well, I've returned from the wild and will eventually get back to modelling. First, though, some relevant photos from the Bertrand museum and elsewhere. A few introductory notes on the museum. As the Bertrand was discovered, and excavated, within DeSoto National Wildlife Refuge, it became the property of the US Fish & Wildlife Service. Thus they built the museum as an add-on to a visitor's center otherwise dedicated to the refuge. It's a nice museum, but not one staffed by "steamboat people", per se. It's just a wing of the larger center. We had very little time there, even less than I had intended, because of the very long drive that day (we had to make it from central Missouri to western Nebraska before dark). A cute, if primitive, Bertrand model in the lobby. One of the museum's centerpieces, a large-scale model of Bertrand; me for scale. This is a beautiful model, with complete interior, but in several places it departs rather severely from the archaeological drawings of the boat. The most blatant difference is the relationship between the main deck and the boiler deck just above. In the drawings, and the accompanying documentation, it's concluded that Bertrand's boiler deck extended as far as the width of the main deck and was supported by vertical stanchions between the two, on the very outer edge of the decks. On the model, the stanchions are set well inboard, with a set of curved supports ducked in under the boiler deck. I don't know why the discrepancy exists, since the model was almost certainly made after the excavation (no information was provided). A painting of the Bertrand, by the same artist/illustrator who drew the graphic reconstructions included in the archaeology reports I'm working from. Note that he portrays the stanchions correctly, as vertical supports at the very outer edge of both decks. EDIT: I forgot to note that the cute, primitive model shown above DOES get the stanchions right. A nice touch; one wall of the gallery is a full-size outline of Bertrand's aft third (roughly), with an actual paddlewheel hub mounted within. Me for scale. The gallery includes a huge collection of artifacts salvaged from the wreck, which are a day's worth of contemplation for a history buff. Unfortunately, as you can see by the photos above, the lighting is kept very low for preservation reasons, making photography a real, well, hassle. This shot gives some sense of the gallery's scale. In the foreground are various munitions from the wreck, which I thought might be of interest to some of you. For example, several racks of howitzer shells and a stand of .50 caliber Maynard cartridges. One assumes these were part of consignments for various Army posts on the frontier. The stretch of river on which the Bertrand sank is no longer part of the mainstem Missouri River, which changed its course quite regularly before being channelized and controlled by the US Army Corps of Engineers. The location is now part of a large oxbow lake, a former bend in the river now cut off by a straighter channel and left as a horseshoe-shaped lake. The site of Bertrand's sinking is on the opposite shore, about as far as you can see. And here is the actual site, the pit left over from excavation now filled with water and overgrown with shrubbery. Bertrand is still down there; once the teams had recovered the cargo and documented the hull, they left her be. It's perhaps 100 yards in from the old channel, in what used to be a field, where it was left by an early shift in river channel. The active river now is maybe 1/2 mile away. Finally, a few other images from the trip, most of which was spent hiking in Yellowstone and Grand Tetons National Parks. I could bore you all with lots of imagery of backcountry thermal features, wildlife, and geological eye candy, but will restrain myself to these two, whose relevance should be apparent: This is Steamboat Point, in the Bighorn Mountains of north-central Wyoming. It's a nice basic climb of 800' vertical feet or so, giving a clear 360 view of the east slop of the Bighorns. And this is Steamboat Geyser. It erupts unpredictable and rarely, the last eruption being just over a year ago. Here it's just steaming in the cool, crisp, morning air, but even so it reminds one of a boiler hissing away gently, awaiting the engineer's touch to build pressure once more. Next up for my version of the Bertrand are the engines, for which more research and planning is needed. I also need to get everything else in life back under control after two weeks away. But I hope you all enjoy the images above.

The paddle wheel is done! Here's how I approached it: While the Bertrand's wheels didn't survive to be recovered, one of the wheel hubs did, so we know the wheel had thirteen spokes. Using the estimated wheel diameter of 18', I laid out a template on my computer of 13 evenly divided spokes with a scale diameter of 18', and printed out five of them. These would form the basis of my wheel. Meanwhile, I chose a dowel of the correct thickness for an axle. Then, for the hubs, I glued two pieces of styrene together, traced a series of circles of the right diameter (based on the recovered hub), and drilled axle holes through them. Then I cut out the rough circles with a hobby knife, smoothed them round with file and sandpaper, and painted them a dull metal black. Apologies for the quality of this photo, but it shows the assembled wheels. I mounted each paper pattern with a pin at center, then laid thin strips of double-sided tape along each spoke. This let me set the spokes in exactly the right orientation, before attaching them with carefully cut and fitted frame pieces. A careful look will also notice the inner ends of the spokes sanded to a slight angle to make them all fit together at the hub. On the real thing, the hub would have had sockets to hold each spoke, but I didn't think I could simulate that acceptably at this scale, so didn't. Better no detail than bad detail, in my opinion. As you'll see, it's almost impossible to tell once the wheel is finished. Removing the wheels from the double-sided tape was tricky, and I broke one by being too aggressive. It was fixed. After sanding and shaping with a file, I painted these with diluted red paint. A bit too diluted, as I overdid it on several wheels and the diluted paint dissolved the wood glue holding these together and the wheels began to fall apart. With some very careful reassembly, a coat of glue along all surfaces, and some appropriate riverboat language, I salvaged the wheels no worse for the wear. Then I attached each hub, lightly weathered everything with brown pastel, and was ready to move on. Now the real fun began. I carved the pillow blocks which support the axle, painted these and the axle, and began assembly. I'd wanted the wheel to turn, so had no intention of gluing the wheels onto the axle. I strung all five wheels loosely along the axle, glued on the pillow blocks, and glued the whole assembly to the support arms on the hull. Above you see me test-fitting the first paddle planks. I marked a few of these with the exact locations of each wheel, and clamped them on to hold the whole structure stable. Then I started gluing on other planks, all of which had been pre-painted at the same time as the wheels. Here's the hedgehog effect of the wheel covered in clamps. I glued every other plank to give the clamps room, then went back and filled in the gaps when the first round was done. Then I did the second, outer layer of planks. This went quickly and easily. And here's the final result. The five wheels are near perfect copies of each other, such that the planks lined up perfectly. Another reason I left the wheels to turn freely on the hub, was to ensure I could get the best possible alignment between them. There were a couple spokes not quite right, a legacy of the dissolved glue and repair, but I can easily turn the wheel to hide them down by the rudder. It's really quite fun to sit there and turn the wheel gently. I may want to add some more detail, such as the bolts and straps that hold the paddles to the wheels, and some detail to the outer hubs, but not right now. Someday it would be fun to build working machinery for such a paddle wheel, but this wasn't the project. The driving arms will attached permanently to the axle, and will not be in motion; only the wheel itself moves, unattached to the axle. It's good enough for me. I think it looks pretty neat with the wheel on, a real step forward toward looking like a steamboat. Now I'm off on vacation, two weeks hiking in Yellowstone National Park in northwestern Wyoming. As we're both former geologists, and Mrs Cathead worked at the park for three seasons many years ago, we're quite excited to return. On the way, we're stopping at the Bertrand museum at DeSoto National Wildlife Refuge just north of Omaha, Nebraska, a place I've been many years ago but am now very excited to return to. The museum is at the location of Bertrand's sinking, and is full of recovered cargo from the boat and various other exhibits. I'm also hoping to collect some driftwood and sand from the Missouri River at that location for use in a future display base. So this build will be on hold for a bit, but for a good cause.

Even I'm not that good with a chain saw!

Hah, Matt, my first reaction was GOOD GOD NO! But you may well be right; I did quite enjoy framing this one up, and it would make an excellent boatyard diorama. The problem is, there are just so many interesting projects and so little time. I already have my next build purchased, making use of the M-E 50% sale, after that I may want to scratchbuild a sidewheeler for once, then there are all the real ships to consider. So many options! Thanks for reading. I find it hard to take praise from all of you whose skills are so much beyond my own (you will likely laugh to see my machinery compared to your work), but appreciate the good will nonetheless. In the meantime, I may well be able to post pictures of a finished paddlewheel before I vanish for a few weeks.

That works both ways, as this kit is my next build whenever I finish the Bertrand, and you can be danged sure I'll be revisiting this log.

I haven't made much visible progress in the last few weeks, but have been doing a lot of preparatory planning for the complicated next step(s). First, here's the one major achievement: the rudder assemblies. I built these up from multiple layers of wood, making the actual rudders a bit thicker than the wings that link them to the hull. I based the curve in the latter (where they meet the hull) on the mold I used to bend the stern frames in the first place, then carved/sanded the curve to its final fit. The hinges are just thin strip styrene; at this scale I don't have the skill to fabricate true hinges, and these will be well hidden behind the paddle wheel. Boats like Bertrand used four rudders, two inboard masters with tall tiller posts that link to the steerage assembly, and two outboard slaves linked to the masters by hinged rods. I simulated these linkages with more thin strip styrene; again this detail will be almost entirely hidden on the finished model. I'll add the horizontal tiller extensions once I start laying out the engine room properly. The rudders had to be the next project, as I needed the boat upside down to do them properly, and once I start building up the superstructure it'll be a LOT harder to turn her over. I've also been making slow headway on the deck planking; slow because each line of planks has to be measured, cut, glued, and allowed to dry before the next goes into place. This is about as far as I'm going to go for now, as soon I'll need to start installing various vertical posts for the superstructure, which extend into the hull. Once I have the framing in place, I'll finish planking around it. This, at least, gives a sense of the planking's appearance (before any sanding). I've been intentionally staining planks with different dilutions, to discourage uniformity, and like the result so far (sanding will mute it slightly). Now comes the fun stuff, machinery, which I intend to tackle in this order: Paddlewheel Piston engines (which link to the wheel), located roughly behind "Bertrand" in the drawing above Boiler assembly (which links to the piston engines), located near the bow, forward of the two white cross-pieces I've already installed (see photo 2). Fabricating these will take quite some time. I intend to use styrene, of which I have a diverse supply from my model railroading endeavors; I'm used to it and have no experience in metal working. When painted and weathered, it gives a nice approximation of metal, suitable for my purposes. It may be a month or more before I update again. August is a busy time for me, and we are planning a two-week vacation in September. So I will likely not update this log again before late September, depending on how much work gets done. Thanks for your patience with my skewed priorities, emphasizing worldly pursuits over boat-building!

Steve, I have that book in hardcopy sitting on my workbench! Great book and a significant resource for this build. Carl, yes, that's a fantastic build that I've looked over a few times in planning out this build. I've visited the real Cairo and it's really neat to see such a good model of it.

Here's the boiler assembly I build for my last steamboat: Technically these aren't the engines, those are at the stern, one on each side. The boiler feeds steam through an overhead pipe toward the stern, where the pipe splits in two and leads to the engines, where large cylinders are mounted fore-and-aft so that each cylinder stroke drives one side of the sternwheel. Building the boiler doesn't concern me as much as the engine assemblies; I have to decide how much detail I can reasonably include. They're complicated buggers.

That looks fairly different from the mid-1800 steamboat boilers I'm familiar with, which used a series of boiler tubes side-by-side. For example, Bertrand very likely used something quite like this (image from this thread): This type of design is what I intend to use for the model, with specific modifications based on my current resources (for example the number of boiler tubes varies from boat to boat), unless I turn up new information to the contrary. But in a general sense, this is what Mississippi Valley steamboat boiler assemblies looked like mid-century to the best of my knowledge. Here's another one, the boiler assembly from the Arabia, which sunk near Kansas City in 1856.

Steve, What do you mean by "locomotive type"? Kurt, Fantastic story & images. Know any lawyers who want a steamboat?

Steve, There are no drawings of the Bertrand's machinery; the wreck was partially salvaged shortly afterward with a focus on all the iron, and later river currents and burial swept away everything above the main decking. Only the main hull was found and documented by the archaeological team. However, I have some information on typical machinery of the period that I had intended to draw from. What period are your drawings from? Kurt, That's a great tip, thanks! Their site doesn't have any purchasing info, I think I'll call to inquire. I may also look into interlibrary loan, given my budgetary constraints. I don't get out much, but that museum sure looks interesting. mtaylor, Oh, no worries, just thought I'd set the record straight.

Hey, thanks, all. Pictures are great for lying with; this way you can't see all the little flaws that I can! mtaylor, for what it's worth, I'm not Keith, jbelwood's comment is in a response to a question asked BY Keith about a different model, way back in comment #81. dgbot, this is a scratchbuild, so no one "gave" me any wood. The model is entirely basswood strips from Model Shipways. The scary part is still to come, building reasonable representations of all the internal machinery, and fitting it in amongst the complicated superstructure. But hey, we wouldn't do this if we didn't like challenges.

Progress report: the hull is planked! As planned, I only finished the port side, leaving the bottom and starboard side open for interior views. I extended planking onto the bottom only far enough to complete the strakes necessary for the bow. Above is the bow close-up, with the finished underside of the guards. Finish sanding hadn't happened yet in this photo. Here's the stern. I extended the planking a short distance onto the starboard side to complete the transition, and planned the planking to follow a sweeping curve into the stern for aesthetic reasons. I think it's more attractive this way than a square cut-off at the base of the stern. Next was priming and painting the planked portion of the hull, the nice clean white of a new steamboat. This sets off the interior bracing nicely. I also added hatch frames, cylinder timbers, and the first line of planking along the centerline. Closeups of the bow and stern. The cylinder timbers, in pairs port and starboard, will support the actual steam engines whose pistons drive the wheel, which is supported by the aft extension of these timbers. The next stage is complicated; it's not as simple as just planking the deck. Bertrand's superstructure is supported by timbers based in the hull, and I'd like to do this justice rather than just erecting the superstructure on the deck. Also, there are a number of hog-chains (iron rods which support the hull longitudinally) which run on braces also extending down into the hull. These, too, need to be planned for before decking is completed. Thus I may be better off constructing these items before planking, which means planking around a bunch of stuff. Should be fun to work out properly. In the meantime, here's Missouri's own Cathy Barton and Dave Para with a nice instrumental medley:

I've read the book, and enjoyed it. However, as John points out, it has also been thoroughly refuted. I look at it this way: many things are possible in history, but didn't turn out to have happened. For example, Thor Heyerdahl's Kon-Tiki voyage showed that peoples from South American plausibly COULD have sailed west in balsa rafts to colonize parts of the South Pacific. Yet modern genetic evidence refutes that otherwise quite plausible scenario. In the same way, the Chinese fleets COULD have made the voyages, they seem to have had the technical capability of doing so. But due to various whims of history, it seems clear that they didn't. It doesn't change the entertaining nature of the book, which is compelling and interesting as a work of scholarship and conviction, as is Kon-Tiki. But a compelling argument presented in narrative form is not the same as a true one backed up by hard evidence.

Here is a very useful article from the Nautical Research Guild about carronades. Among other things, it includes this answer to your question (emphasis mine): In other words, the piece recoils far enough along its slide to allow muzzle-loading. I've also seen it suggested online that the piece could be rotated far enough around, to the left or right on its swivel point, to allow reloading that way, though I've no idea if that's actually true. Seems to slow and too much bother. You might also look at the Model Shipways deck carronade kit for detail on how such pieces were rigged:

In all fairness, many of us are able to build our models because the reverse is also true, even if husband doesn't rhyme with anything catchy. Happy spouse, happy house?

After a week of cogitation, I decided to move forward on the hull planking using my best judgement and artistic license. Without absolute proof in any direction, I determined that THIS Bertrand's builders would do best to follow the natural line of the hull, making planking as simple as possible for the basic carpentry skills and simple raw materials available (both in real life and in this budget-constrained model). I clamped a series of planking strips to the horizontal portion of the hull, to get spacing right, and then extended the fourth one up toward the bow in the most natural curve it would follow (above left). Marking this on the frames with a pencil, I then started cutting planks to length and installing them with wood glue and clamps. Above right, you see five strakes of planking installed. Sorry for the photo quality, this was indoors in evening. Here's the current bow, next to the best drawing I have from the archaeological documents (the latter flipped to match the photo's orientation). The lie of the planks clearly isn't the same, but I just couldn't figure out how to get the deck-parallel planking shown in the drawing with the geometry of the framing shown in other drawings. Not sure who's wrong; logically my bet's on me rather than the professionals, but who knows. Methods like stealers or aggressive spiling just didn't seem to match the likely approach and skill set of the folks actually building Bertrand, so I went with authentic approach if not result. I actually like the sweeping curve on the model, at least from an aesthetic point of view. Also, as you'll notice, most of the bow is in fact covered by iron plating to help protect against river debris and snags, so relatively little of this will show anyway. I really appreciate all the folks who chimed in to discuss this question, and I hope my decision turns out acceptably to most viewers. Mrs. Cathead likes it, so there's that. Finally, notice that on Bertrand, the planks have a scarf joint, not a butt joint. This I'm certain of, because there are photographs of it. So I did my planks the same way, although a bit simplified: Bertrand's planks have a fancy scarf with squared-off tips (look closely at the drawing), which I was not up for recreating at 1:87. So I just cut the angle all the way across and decided it was close enough. This is not, after all, an exquisite world-class museum model, just a farmer's hobby. Clamping planks on this bow has been an interesting challenge. The guards, which I intentionally installed first in order to help guide planking, are also rather in the way of getting clamps down along the hull. The framing, being so close together, also makes it difficult to get clamps in. From a practical standpoint, I've been very happy with my decision to follow the easiest lie of planking, because the planks fit themselves, don't even need soaking, and require minimal clamping to stay put. This result certainly fits with the theme of building these boats the simplest way. And here is the hull as of Saturday morning. I filled in the upper bow first, and am slowly working my way down and aft. I haven't done any filling or sanding, so any close-up look appears pretty rough. These planks are quite thin (1/32"), so I intend to do one sanding only when the whole thing is ready, and no more. But to my eyes at least, the pattern is pleasing and approximates authenticity. Gonna be a busy weekend ahead, here's a fitting tune for this work: "Old Plank Road" That depends on how the planking goes, but so far so good.

Keith, I'm afraid I have no idea, beyond basic internet searches I assume you've already done. Sorry!

Kurt The deck/guard extensions are, at their outer edge, vertical. The frame below any given extension is not vertical, it's angled inward at something like 45 degrees. The plank on the outside of the guards bends mostly in two directions. It does not twist inward, only around the bow's curve (horizontal) and up with the sheer (gentle longitudinal). Whereas the hull itself has a sharp inward angle toward the center of the hull, which makes the bend of the sheer plank more complex. It's the same longitudinal curve, and the same curve around the bow, but the guard plank stays vertical while the hull plank also has to make a sharp bend inward around the narrowing of the hull. Does that make sense? I'm using thin basswood planks, which are quite flexible. I have tried soaking and bending the planks, and they do not take the curve, they still bulge outward. I realize I may not be presenting this question clearly, especially if experts feel I shouldn't be having this problem, and will try to take better photos to illustrate the exact situation.

Kurt, thanks so much for considering this! A few questions, after reviewing your photo and the instructions you linked to. It appears Chaperon has little or no sheer at the bow? Bertrand has a fairly significant bow sheer, which seems to complicate the planking pattern. The deck at the stempost is almost twice as high as the deck at midships, while the hull's bottom remains flat along virtually its entire length. My understanding is, early builders mimicked ocean-going vessels in building a lot of sheer into the hull, which gradually vanished as they realized it wasn't necessary to river conditions. Bertrand is an 1864 boat, in the middle of this transition, while Chaperon is 1884. From the images, it looks like Chaperon's hull/deck is much flatter, like a later boat should be, implying a lot less 3-D curvature to the sheer strake. On my hull, trying to keep the sheer strake parallel to the deck produces one heck of a bulge outward from the frames, because the strake has to sweep significantly upward while also twisting inward. On other hulls I've planked with a sheer rise like this, the frames are more convex outward rather than straight diagonal, accommodating the necessary twist to the plank. The Chaperon images look like the sheer strake is just bending in two dimensions, and the instructions also imply that the plank should lie naturally along the sheer. That is just not the case with this hull, whether it's how Bertrand was actually built or whether I somehow framed the bow in wrong. I don't think it's the latter; looking at Chaperon's bulkheads it has the same basic straight diagonal framing as Bertrand, it's just that the latter has so much more sheer to complicate the situation. But as it's my first try at a hull like this, anything's possible. Regardless, I ain't startin' over! I agree that the stern won't be a problem, I've already test-fitted planks there without concern. The sheer is less severe and there's way less of an inward curve. Also, I won't be planking the underside of the hull, to increase interior visibility, so it's just the port side I have to get right. So the question remains, was Chaperon's hull as flat as it seems, and was that why the planking was simpler? I've also looked at a really nice build of the USS Cairo, a river gunboat from the same period, which suggested earlier in this build and which appears to have the same diagonal framing. However, that build log doesn't show ANY photos of the hull planking, and it also appears to have very little bow sheer. I really wish I could show a few of you this in person, it's really hard to describe in words and I wonder if I'm explaining it properly?

Mark, thanks for the input and hope I'm not seeming argumentative. I'm going to keep thinking it over. The obsessive part of me is actually considering building a false bow with similar configuration to test out how each approach would actually look. In the meantime, I can let it simmer while I work on the decking. Speaking of which, here's another update after the weekend's work: While I think about planking, I've worked on filling in structure. The deck was mildly cambered, with deck beams resting on one longitudinal bulkhead running along the keelson. So the first step was to figure out how high I wanted this bulkhead (and thus the camber), and how to keep it fairly consistent along the run of the hull, rising with the sheer of the stem and stern from the flat central portion of the hull. I wanted the camber to last all the way to the stern, but naturally peter out into a smooth surface at the stempost. This appears to be accurate based on my sources. I accomplished this the way I do many projects, by careful dead reckoning. I figured out the proper bulkhead height at the center of the hull, by test-fitting various stanchion lengths with deck beams resting on top until I got something that looked right. Then I cut a stringer the length of the hull, to act as the top of the bulkhead, and began gluing it onto stanchions of equal height along the flat center portion of the hull, letting both ends float free. Once that was dry, I began carefully cutting individual stanchions to increasing lengths, inserting them under the stringer one by one while test-fitting deck beams to ensure a smooth curve. The photos above show the stern end completed; if you look carefully down the hull, you can see the bow end still floating free. Then I did the same for the bow. This center bulkhead was finished with planking on the real Bertrand, dividing the hull into separate halves, but I'm omitting that for viewing clarity. At some point I decided I was getting tired of having the hull loose on my work bench, so spot-glued a thick beam to the bottom of the hull, where my clamp can get a good grip. Big improvement; I can now swivel the hull to any orientation I need. With the longitudinal bulkhead properly finished, and all support stanchions glued in, I began attaching deck beams, a repetitive but fairly easy process. Below is the final result, after a lot of sanding to produce smooth curves all the way around. Interestingly, the guards (which I intended to be level) ended up a bit gull-winged in places, angling inward slightly toward the deck camber. This annoyed me, until I happened to read in one of my sources that some period boats actually did have inward-sloping guards, though it's believed Bertrand didn't. It's barely noticeable, and at least it's authentic to the period if not the exact prototype. After I was happy with the deck beams, I moved on to preparing a few more details. I framed in the five hatches (one at left stern, and two pairs centered about 40' from the stern and just aft of the bow). I intend to leave all these open. I have now reached the point that I have to make a decision on how to finish the model, no more waffling. I am sticking with my original goal, despite various forays into conjecture, of finishing the port side completely, and leaving the starboard side as open-framed as possible to allow views of the internal structure. I want to be able to photograph the model from certain angles and have it look realistically complete, but have in-person viewers be able to turn it around and look inside. Thus I will have to add much, but not all, of the decking (I may use piles of cargo to hide missing decking for photography in some places). With this in mind, I added one more set of details. The deck beams and guards, as installed so far, are actually half as numerous as on the real boat. I decided to leave the deck beams as-is to facilitate interior views, but to fill in the guard supports on the starboard side for more realism. This accounts for the different you may already have noticed, but which is very clear in this overhead photo. Looking closely, you can also see the framed-in deck hatches, and the doubled-up deck beams which support the boiler, about 1/3 of the length from the bow. The boat is nearly read for some decking, and is ready for planking on the port side once I decide how I want to do it. In the meantime, here's Alison Krauss & Union Station with the feelings of all Missouri after the last two months: "Rain, Please Go Away"!

You ok, Cap'n? Looking forward to new progress, hope all is well.