Cathead

You're doing a beautiful job.  I read in Alan Bate's book that the thickness of the walls got thinner on each higher deck so that on some boats the pilot house walls were only 1/4" thick.
 
Bob

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

A clarification: pre-scribed wood is just what the doctor ordered for a situation like this cabin structure, but I didn't do the scribing myself. You can buy sheets of pre-scribed wood in various thicknesses, dimensions, and styles. For example, you can get plank-style like I used, or board-and-batten. I've built a fair amount of structures with it for my model railroad (based on a Missouri River port town during the steamboat era), and have a variety of scrap left over that was easy to repurpose for this project.
 
I used it here because building a frame and planking both sides would have made the walls far too thick at this scale (1:87), and I don't have any wood thin enough to do that in scale (and I'd be afraid it'd be too fragile anyway). These boats were built cheap and fast, and these stateroom walls were knocked together from thin pine. Actual framing worked fine on the main deck, because those walls weren't finished on the inside and so it's necessary to show the framing, and doesn't look too thick because you can't easily see the ends. But having stateroom walls well over a scale foot thick would have looked ridiculous; if nothing else the windows would have looked wrong, either too thick or too recessed. I couldn't see another way to show cabin interiors without using solid sheets of wood at this scale. If I'd built the cabin whole, I probably would have framed and planked it, because I wouldn't have cared about the interior look or depth, but saw this as a compromise to allow the interior view.
 
avsjerome, thanks for that snippet. I've read about the steamboats on the Columbia and such, including the famous first trip down the rapids showing that it was possible, but I never knew that Idaho itself was named after a steamboat.

A clarification: pre-scribed wood is just what the doctor ordered for a situation like this cabin structure, but I didn't do the scribing myself. You can buy sheets of pre-scribed wood in various thicknesses, dimensions, and styles. For example, you can get plank-style like I used, or board-and-batten. I've built a fair amount of structures with it for my model railroad (based on a Missouri River port town during the steamboat era), and have a variety of scrap left over that was easy to repurpose for this project.
 
I used it here because building a frame and planking both sides would have made the walls far too thick at this scale (1:87), and I don't have any wood thin enough to do that in scale (and I'd be afraid it'd be too fragile anyway). These boats were built cheap and fast, and these stateroom walls were knocked together from thin pine. Actual framing worked fine on the main deck, because those walls weren't finished on the inside and so it's necessary to show the framing, and doesn't look too thick because you can't easily see the ends. But having stateroom walls well over a scale foot thick would have looked ridiculous; if nothing else the windows would have looked wrong, either too thick or too recessed. I couldn't see another way to show cabin interiors without using solid sheets of wood at this scale. If I'd built the cabin whole, I probably would have framed and planked it, because I wouldn't have cared about the interior look or depth, but saw this as a compromise to allow the interior view.
 
avsjerome, thanks for that snippet. I've read about the steamboats on the Columbia and such, including the famous first trip down the rapids showing that it was possible, but I never knew that Idaho itself was named after a steamboat.

A clarification: pre-scribed wood is just what the doctor ordered for a situation like this cabin structure, but I didn't do the scribing myself. You can buy sheets of pre-scribed wood in various thicknesses, dimensions, and styles. For example, you can get plank-style like I used, or board-and-batten. I've built a fair amount of structures with it for my model railroad (based on a Missouri River port town during the steamboat era), and have a variety of scrap left over that was easy to repurpose for this project.
 
I used it here because building a frame and planking both sides would have made the walls far too thick at this scale (1:87), and I don't have any wood thin enough to do that in scale (and I'd be afraid it'd be too fragile anyway). These boats were built cheap and fast, and these stateroom walls were knocked together from thin pine. Actual framing worked fine on the main deck, because those walls weren't finished on the inside and so it's necessary to show the framing, and doesn't look too thick because you can't easily see the ends. But having stateroom walls well over a scale foot thick would have looked ridiculous; if nothing else the windows would have looked wrong, either too thick or too recessed. I couldn't see another way to show cabin interiors without using solid sheets of wood at this scale. If I'd built the cabin whole, I probably would have framed and planked it, because I wouldn't have cared about the interior look or depth, but saw this as a compromise to allow the interior view.
 
avsjerome, thanks for that snippet. I've read about the steamboats on the Columbia and such, including the famous first trip down the rapids showing that it was possible, but I never knew that Idaho itself was named after a steamboat.

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

Very nicely done CH! I'm a big fan of open viewing plans to see into the heart of a ship/boat. It's looking spectacular!

Nice work with the scribed wood for your cabins. Also like the layout for the clerestory.

Nicely done Cathead, she's really taking shape now.

Really nice work.

She's really looking first class, mate!
 
John

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

Mark,
 
This image shows a "typical" (if there is such a thing) steamboat boiler, including the mud drum:
 

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

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.

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. 

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.

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!

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.