JacquesCousteau

Hull Design So, a change of plans is in order. I'll discuss the rigging, which is fascinatingly bare-bones, in the future. Instead, I'd like to talk about my attempts to plan out the hull shape and build. Once again it's a long post--there's a lot of prep work that goes into a scratch build!--but at least this one actually involves building things and drafting. In the process of drafting plans, I've made a lot of mistakes on this, and surely will make more, but maybe including them in the log will help others avoid similar errors. Among the errors: I now have a model hull! But not the one I set out to make. Hmmmm. I'll explain the errant model and its odd paint splotch below. Clearly I have no idea what I'm doing.... but I'm learning, and that's part of the fun! As mentioned earlier, I'm planning on modeling a small canoa de rancho that could be used for fishing and cargo hauling. The following vessel is in the right size range (as are some of those I posted earlier). Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A139788 I have no real experience with using drawing programs, so I decided to plan things out by hand. I began drafting plans for what would be a 32-ft (overall length) canoa de rancho, using grid paper, pencil, ruler, and French curves. As Roger noted, you really need a spline or a batten for this, but at the time I didn't know that, which led to some issues. Drawing the plans really gave me a sense of how much larger this would be than the dory--the extra 2 inches of overall length really translates into a much larger vessel. I immediately ran into the problem that I wasn't really sure what length-to-beam ratio would be best, as there appears to be some variation in the photos. My first attempt of a top-down drawing was much too beamy. Moreover, I realized that it was going to be tricky to figure out just from a top-down outline of the cap rails what size the bottom would actually be, because the rails are not evenly high--as noted earlier, the bow can be angled up substantially higher, so the distance from bottom to rail changes across the hull. (Pretty obvious in hindsight, but this was my first attempt to draft plans so I made a lot of errors like this.) So I decided to start with a side view, as I can base it on existing side view photos and from there I can pretty easily extend lines and points upward to accurately plot them in the top-down view. After which the top-down view can be used to work out the cross-sections. This seemed to work much better. That said, I had some trouble accurately drawing the rocker with the french curve (I should have just used a batten), but this wasn't going to have much impact on the top-down view so I wasn't worried about it. BUT, when it came to drawing the top-down view, I encountered a problem. As mentioned earlier, canoas seem to have had a pretty consistent angle to their sides. In other words, all cross-sections would have the same angle to the sides. This is easy enough to plot out on the top-down plans: just use the grid lines and a ruler to measure a consistent distance out from the outline of the bottom perpendicular to the center line. The only thing to remember with this is that the fore half becomes progressively higher as it reaches the bow owing to the angled extra planks placed there. But it's easy enough to deal with that: the method above of measuring out a consistent distance from the bottom shows the line of the uppermost full plank, then if you know the proportions of heights between the full side planking and the maximum (at prow) height of the additional fore planking, you can mark where the tip of the full planking at the bow and extend proportionally forwards to get the actual full length, then draw an appropriate curve back from there to the point where the fore upper planking begins. That will give you a top-down view of the top of the sides, from which you can use simple right triangles to find the height of cross-sections of the bow. The problem is that, with the moderate angle for the sides that I chose--which is accurate for most canoas and necessary if it's to be planked with straight boards--the line for the top of the upper full strakes did not naturally extend nearly as far forward as I had drawn it in the side view. I could simply draw it farther forward, but this would mean the bow cross-sections would take on a progressively different angle for the sides, making things difficult to plan out. Stuck, I decided to once again make a small model as a sort of proof-of-concept to work out how the bow would work. I could also use it to test out a hull shape for the bottom, something that I was also indecisive about. Unlike the paper model, I would make it from wood, using 1/16th inch basswood for the bottom, transom, and bulkheads/molds, and coffee stir sticks for the sides so that I didn't have to spend time cutting perfectly parallel planks from basswood. I didn't plan it out, as I just wanted something simple and quick. I cut out a one-piece bottom and made a transom, a bulkhead for the widest point, and a fore bulkhead (twice the height of the others as I wasn't sure how high the fore upper planking would reach). I gave the bottom some rocker with the method used for the dory (soak one side, prop up both ends, place a weight in the middle, and let dry), used angled supports to attach the transom at an appropriate angle, and used further supports to make the central and fore bulkheads vertical despite the rocker. I also decided to use this to try the method of building around bulkheads and possibly adding the framing afterward, although I only thought to do this after having already glued the bulkheads to the bottom (as I originally just wanted something quick to test out the hull shape). Then I began with planking. The curves weren't too sharp, and I wanted to get this together quickly as a proof of concept, so I didn't bother with soaking. After the garboard plank, I realized that I needed a stem, too, in order to make sure the bow actually pointed out forward and modeled what I was trying to test out, so I retrofitted a simple one. I built it very quickly and without much care. The bow was a bit of a mess, one of the coffee stir sticks had been used for mixing paint and was discolored, two stir sticks were of a slightly different size and wood than the others, the fore upper planks were just single pieces of scrap 3/64th inch wood instead of multiple planks, there were a number of gaps between planks, and the bow got pretty stained from super glue. Without worrying about how it looked, I put it together in a single afternoon (except for one upper fore plank) and took few photos--after all, the point wasn't the model itself, but rather to use it to figure out how to build the actual model. I'll discuss the lessons learned below, but first wanted to mention: because I built this so quickly and with so little care, I was very pleasantly surprised that I think it turned out to be a pretty credible little model! At 1:48 scale it comes out to a 24 foot-long bottom and about 28 feet long overall--maybe not quite large enough for the rancho that makes for a true canoa de rancho, but something at the larger end of the fishing canoas. The hull form is similar to some of the small, boxy canoas that can be seen in photos hauled up on beaches, above, or maybe the following: Photo from DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University: https://digitalcollections.smu.edu/digital/collection/mex/id/2305/rec/4 The image is very high-res on the site, quite interesting! There are a few issues as a model, besides those mentioned above. The wood is too thick for scale, the stem is too thick and would have to be trimmed or removed and replaced with internal braces on the sides, and the bulkheads would have to be cut out (thankfully they're only glued on the bottom), as would the angled support at the transom. The rocker somehow ended up inconsistent across the beam at the stern, which is a little twisted. Also, given that the hull shape was created with french curves rather than a batten, the curves turned out a bit off and I think the side looks like it juts out a little sharply amidships instead of taking a smooth curve. It's also on the beamy side of things. Despite these issues, I think it turned out decently and with a bit of sanding, painting, and adding the frames, cap rail (which is wide enough to help with the curve issue), stern thwart, rudder, mast and rigging, etc., it could actually be a decent 1:48 model of a rather roughly-built and well-worn working vessel. My main plan is still to make a 1:32-scale canoa de rancho, but I might work on this smaller model alongside it. I'm not sure if it should get its own build log though--it would repeat a lot of what's in the larger model's log--or if it's ok to just keep dealing with it here as a sub project that occasionally pops up. Somehow I think retitling the post to include two separate models of separate vessels of the same type at different scales would go against standard title format... In any case, I learned a lot from the proof of concept that will be useful for the 1:32 Canoa de Rancho. Most importantly, on the bow: ultimately, the angle of the sides did end up changing a little between the prow and the fore bulkhead, but this was pretty minimal and I thought I didn't need to do much here when it comes to building the larger model, I could just let the wood take the form it will between the foremost bulkhead and the prow as long as the bulkhead isn't right up at the prow. I did decide to go with a slightly less extreme prow rake than on my original design, which will also be a bit more typical--only a few photographs of canoas de rancho show the sharply inclined prow my original plans depicted. A few other points I learned: I had felt that the bottom looked unbalanced as the widest point was too far forward. That ended up working ok as the sides extended forward and the widest point ended up being just about in the middle of the boat, but the sides did naturally curve out a little bit aft of the middle bulkhead. Clearly in the future I needed to do better at planning the hull curves. I realized that I would need a better method of holding the bulkheads in place without gluing them to the bottom--I think I can just attach them to each other with enough supports that they will stay in place with minimal or no gluing to the hull. I also realized that I would need more bulkheads for the larger model. There was a large open space between the transom and the center bulkhead, and although the curve there was extremely gentle, it ended up being a bit tricky to hold things in place without bulkhead. I would need to be better about clamping to press the planks together, as there were some gaps. Finally I'd need to be careful to make sure there's no hull twisting, as a little did occur at the stern on the small model. So, armed with these discoveries, and a newfound appreciation for the importance of planning with a spline, I returned to the plans. I decided to start over rather than attempt to rescue the existing plans, this time using a spline for the curves from the start. Once again I started with a side view, but this time I began by marking out the bottom and its rocker with the spline. Then, after deciding on the height of the sides, I marked the prow and transom lines and added the line of the uppermost strake of planking. Next I added the raised bow. Having noticed that most canoas had an overhang at the bow continuing on from the cap rails, I planned the hull itself to be a little short, then extended the overhang to the correct planned length. Then, I extended the lines for the tip of the bottom, uppermost strake, and bow upwards to plot out the top-down view. I decided I liked the look of a narrower hull, which appears in some photos of canoas de rancho. To get the hull lines, I marked a line for the maximum width of the bottom and at the top of the uppermost strake, and bent the spline from the correct points at the prow and transom to touch the width lines. I also added some details (not necessarily accurate to what I'll build) to the side view to get a sense of what it would look like when complete. A note on using the spline (a strip of thin balsa): I didn't have any surface to push pins into, so instead I used heavy objects to hold it in place while I drew. This worked ok, although some objects slid too easily. I eventually found that plastic cups of water slid less than those made of glass. (I spent the whole time worried about spills, though.) Before drawing the bulkheads/molds (if I understand correctly, the former stay in the boat and the latter are to be removed?), I did some fine tuning. I narrowed the transom a bit as I liked how it looked better that way, and because I found that I had misjudged the size of the transom in a photo I was using as a model due to shadows. Much nicer lines aft! I also realized that the spline's curve was naturally pushing the widest point of the hull too far back. After careful study of photos, I determined that the mast can be stepped (and the first crossbeam placed) a little forward of the widest point, but only a little. So I moved the mast back a little bit (which required changing the rancho a little) and adjusted the spline so the widest point ended up just behind the mast, because the curve became too extreme and unnatural if it was actually amidships. I will have to be careful during planking to make sure the planks don't flex out too far aft. I also adjusted the depth a bit before going back to what I had, which looked better. As can be seen, the new hull plan (right) looked much better and more natural than the old hull plan (left), and I am happy I learned how to use the spline. Finally, it was time for the bulkheads/molds. Once I decided where they would be, it was easy enough in theory to figure out their dimensions. The vertical height is measured on the side view, and the top and bottom widths from the top view. Then it's just a matter of making sure it's even. But, I made a lot of errors, some due to simple carelessness (measuring the wrong bulkhead), and some due to mathematical mistakes in dividing weird fractions (simple math but I've never claimed to be good with numbers). I also realized that, while I was taking into account the width of the bottom and the cap rail, I hadn't done so with the width of the sides. I kept the bottom as it was, but subtracted 1/16th inch from each bulkhead at the top. This also made the sides slightly more vertical, which was good--they were a bit more angled out than I had wanted. I should note that I'll be tracing the outlines to another sheet to cut out templates. I also will only cut out half of each bulkhead and will simply flip it around a center line to make sure they're symmetrical, as I'll also do for the bottom. (Hence why I only bothered drawing one half of the bottom.) So, here's where things now stand. It took a lot of work, and a lot of erasing, but I have plans! Also a very clunky little separate model. Next will be the exciting work of cutting pieces from a basswood sheet.

Cool model, looking forward to seeing it come together!

Thanks, Roger, that's very helpful! I came to the realization when trying to draft plans that french curves just don't cut it for this, I need to use a spline to get it right.

Welcome, and great job on the build!

Thanks, Gary! A word of warning: it's going to be a bit of a slow journey with false starts and errors driven by my inexperience (I just scrapped my second attempt at drawing plans) but I promise there will eventually be a boat! Chris, that's very cool! My understanding is that the river used to be a bit higher than it currently is. Waterfalls blocked Chapala vessels from making it too far up the Lerma, but the river has its own history of barges (similar to the early, cargo-hauling trajineras) and dugouts. Sorry for another post that doesn't feature any building (except a tiny paper proof-of-concept), but I'm really trying to understand as much as I can about these vessels from the start. Not just what they looked like, but also how they operated, which can be useful for figuring out things that are poorly-documented or confusing in photos. Hull Design, Construction, and Sailing Qualities José María Angulo Sepulveda, in La navegación de antaño en el Lago de Chapala, discusses how canoas de rancho were built by local shipwrights drawing on their own traditions. After the customer decided on dimensions and agreed on a price, the shipwright and his team—usually around 15 people, three or four of them specialist artisans—would get to work. One expert would head into the mountains to find mesquite trees, cutting the frames from curved parts of the tree, while the head builder would travel into the Tigre mountains to the south of the lake to buy pine boards for the planking an other pieces, which were brought to the lake by mule and then shipped to the shipyard by canoa. A typical canoa de rancho took about three months of work for the team to build. After constructing the hull, it would be flipped over and caulked with a mixture of tar, beef tallow, and cotton tow (pages 48-49). I’m going to focus for now on major hull features that are important for coming up with the overall design, and will leave smaller details (interior decking, the helmsman’s platform, etc) to be discussed in the actual build log when they come up. As you can tell from previous posts, there’s some variety in hull shape among canoas de rancho, but also similarities. All are flat-bottomed, with masts stepped at about amidships. They have flat transoms and boxy sterns, as well as sharp bows. Ramón Rubín, in La canoa perdida, describes them in the following terms: “contrasting with an elevated and elegant prow laid out with grace, they boast an oblong and unattractive stern” (123). They also usually have wide cap rails that often join at the bow to form a platform, and always have crossbeams that extend through the hull from amidships forward. Where they differ, slightly, is generally in the degree to which the prow curves up or lies relatively flat, the angle of the transom (generally close to vertical, but some are angled out a bit), the angle of the stem (some are very sharply angled, others a bit less), and to some degree the angle of the sides, although these are generally much closer to vertical than on, say, a dory. The photo below is interesting in that it condenses a number of hull variations in a single image. The vessel on shore that the man is sitting on looks to be a small, deep fishing canoa that seems to follow traditional building techniques, in contrast to the more European/American-style rowboat to his left on the shore. Hauled up on the beach are a number of sailing canoas (and smaller rowing vessels), which look to largely be small or mid-size, with cloth awnings rather than the more traditional wooden or thatched ranchos. The canoa on the left is small and very boxy, with nearly vertical sides and a sharply-pointed bow. Just to its right is a rather larger canoa that looks a bit less boxy for its proportions. The sailing canoa in the middle is harder to see behind a small white vessel, but looks to be similar or perhaps slightly boxier. Finally, in the right background is what looks to be a long and low canoa with a great deal of rocker at the bow, such that the bow is lifted out of the water. The design of this boat look to me closer to some of the finer-lined fishing canoas (of which it may well be a large example). Source: https://www.mexicoenfotos.com/antiguas/jalisco/chapala/lago-de-chapala-MX14271628900031/6 The flat bottom, and what looks to me to be a bit but not much rocker (especially toward the bow), is most visible in this photo of shipwrights caulking a rather boxy canoa. (I'm using the word "boxy" a lot, huh?) Besides providing a good look at the supports used on the stern half to support the cap rail, and at the rudder mount, the photo also makes it clear that the canoa de rancho lacked any sort of keel, skeg, or centerboard. Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A139636 This brings me to the canoa de rancho’s sailing qualities. The flat bottom was undoubtedly useful for navigating in shallow waters and for loading and offloading cargo at small ports with minimal infrastructure—as seen above, it was common to simply haul the canoas up to the beach. The flat bottom also simplified construction. Evidently, they relied on nothing more than their hard chines (and I guess their large rudders) to impede leeward drift. This perhaps worked to some extent, as there are plenty of photos of canoas de rancho sailing with a quartering or beam wind. But written sources confirm that they were generally unspectacular sailors and were often helpless in the face of an unfavorable wind. Eduardo A. Gibbon, for example, recorded being unable to make his hoped-for visit to Mezcala Island due to the wind being in the wrong direction. Moreover, his canoa then had trouble returning to harbor in the face of a storm, eventually relying on oars to advance slowly toward safety, with the crew simply jumping out to push the boat once they reached shallow enough water. Gibbon and Rubín both also describe the vessels as having heavy, hard-to-manage rudders (Rubín describes it as “monstruous” and “hunchback[ed]”, pg. 123). This was likely due to the lack of any sort of keel or skeg leaving the vessels with very limited directional stability (although of course the standard dory also lacks these features and seems to get along just fine under oar with just the lines and chines of the hull to keep it steady). With such a lack of weatherliness, it’s perhaps surprising that canoas de rancho were so prevalent, yet they did in fact dominate lake trade for decades—including regularly hauling perishables across the lake. Interestingly, effectively sailing a canoa de rancho hinged not just on seamanship, but on a keen understanding of weather and wind patterns, so as to plan voyages around favorable winds. Knowing the signs that, for instance, there would be a “mexicano” wind the next day (so named because it blew from the direction of Mexico City) was crucial. Rubín at one point describes a canoa de rancho being poled around the lake shore all night in order to be ready to take advantage of the likely wind the next morning. Such scenes seem very plausible given these vessels’ limited sailing qualities. There are few clear sources on dimensions besides length, but from photos, most vessels seem to have had an overall (not waterline) length-to-beam ratio of something around 4:1, some narrower and some stubbier. (If you’re reading this and think from the photos that it’s a different ratio, I’m all ears! I’m certainly not an expert at judging lines and dimensions from photos). As for the run of the hull lines aft, many vessels seem to have had a fairly wide transom—see the photo from behind near the start of the first post—although some were a bit narrower. The canoa de rancho’s most interesting hull design feature is perhaps its framing. There are plenty of exterior photos, but few that show the frames, which are usually covered by the rancho. The following image shows what seems to be a fairly large canoa de rancho (I estimate its overall beam at about 12 feet or so) hauled up on its side for repairs. Another photo in the same source shows the same vessel in the same position from the bow, and it has a large, jagged hole in the port bow—clearly it’s undergoing some major work. I should note, too, that the photo also provides one of the clearest views of the top-down hull shape, although the angle shortens the boat by quite a bit. Source: Minute 5:52 of youtube video by Martín Sánchez, “January 22, 2020” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHbBKiYs3QU This is very interesting! As you can see, the frames don’t run across the vessel to both sides, but are more like staggered half-frames, with some sort of brace or cleat also running across the bottom as well. It’s actually kind of similar to the frames on the dory model I built, only on the dory, the half frames are attached to each other to make staggered full frames. While there are few other photos of canoa de rancho frames, more photos exist of the interior of the smaller fishing canoas and show a very similar construction. (This image is actually of a vessel from Lake Atotonilco, a smaller lake a few miles from Chapala, but it follows the same design as Chapala’s boats) Source: https://mapio.net/pic/p-33141234/ There are also some that show more regular, symmetrical framing as well, using straight pieces of wood joined together at an angle instead of naturally curved pieces. (Which goes against claims by Terry and English that Lake Chapala's locals were staunchly tradition-bound.) The photo below illustrates a more traditional construction, at right, and a more modern construction, at left. Source: Facebook post by Martin Sanchez Manzo, 6 July 2019 (based on the other photos in the post, I believe the above comes from one of the sections of José María Angulo Sepulveda’s La navegación de antaño that I don’t have access to.) https://www.facebook.com/martin.sanchez.942145/posts/pfbid027RvcXMTFRqk2t83hWqX3pkwkyGjYFzxjFTd44XKzx65W9LsoGR4gqgoxMrPaYTKcl Many photos, whether of canoas or canoas de rancho, show widely- or irregularly-spaced frames that curve oddly along the sides or are otherwise not vertical, as seen with one frame in the photo above and in the photos below. Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A139127 Note the curved frames in the aft half of the vessel closest to the camera. Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A140967 What this suggests to me is that, rather than planking the sides around the frame, the sides were likely bent first around a mold. The frames, at times rather roughly-cut or oddly-shaped depending on what could be found, were then attached afterward, at times having to be placed at odd angles to fit. Another important thing to note is that the pronounced upward curve at the bow on so many of these vessels came less from curving the strakes upward (although they did curve up a bit following the rocker), or from cutting strakes that were wider at the bow, but from simply adding extra planks cut in a triangular shape at the bow above the uppermost full strake, as can be seen here (this is the bow-on photo of the large canoa de rancho undergoing repairs). Source: Minute 0:34 of youtube video by Martín Sánchez, “January 22, 2020” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHbBKiYs3QU Between the nearly vertical sides and this detail, I believe that most canoas de rancho were designed to be planked with readily-available straight boards rather than anything cut into a more complex shape. As long as there is appropriate rocker to follow the plank’s slight curve upward, a straight board can be used. To test this theory—I’m not an expert at all and often need to work things out physically to make sure I understand them—I made a simple model from index cards, drawing parallel lines to represent strakes made of straight boards and bending them to follow the shape of the bottom, with scrap balsa spacers added to maintain the shape. As a model, it’s poorly-made and out of proportion, but as a proof-of-concept, it did convince me that it was possible to build a canoa with straight planks. This should be enough to start designing the hull (although, as will be seen, I did run into a few issues with that). Next, I’ll discuss the rigging. And, if you're still with me, sorry again for the many huge contextual posts!

Sorry for all the massive posts, I promise I will eventually get around to the actual build… Lake Chapala: The Canoa and its Context Located at the border of Jalisco and Michoacán, at an altitude of about 5,000 feet, Lake Chapala is the largest lake in Mexico. In fact, its size is such that some occasionally called it, with all the exaggeration of local pride, the Mar Chapálico (“the Chapalic Sea”). It is fed by the Lerma River from the east and drains to the sea via the Santiago River; the combined Lerma-Santiago river system is the longest in Mexico, although waterfalls limit its navigability. As a comparison, the lake’s surface area today is a bit smaller than that of Lake Champlain (Chapala: 420 square miles; Champlain: 514 square miles), but prior to the early twentieth century, it was substantially larger as the lake’s southeastern shore extended out into a vast swampy zone (on the map below, Pajacuarán in the bottom-right corner was originally on the edge of the swamp). When the marshland was fully flooded, the lake’s surface area surpassed 600 square miles. The lake is bordered by a number of towns, including Jocotepic to the west, Ajijic and Chapala to the north, Ocotlán to the northeast a bit inland along the Santiago River, Jamay to the east, La Barca several miles inland on the Lerma River, and Cojumatlán and Tizapán on the southern shore. The major city of Guadalajara is only 30 miles or so north, but poor roads made terrestrial transport in the area extremely slow until well into the twentieth century. Source: Google Maps, accessed 24 July 2023. The region was populated long before the Spanish arrived, and plenty of sources from the colonial era testify to the lake’s good fishing. Traditional indigenous vessels were generally dugout canoes, so it seems likely that the plank-built canoa de rancho had its origins in the interchanges of the colonial era. It’s worth noting, although this is only tangentially related to the build, that Lake Chapala was the site of a lengthy naval campaign during the Mexican War of Independence. In December of 1812, insurgents from towns around the lake seized Mezcala Island, a small island that had been the site of a minor colonial military outpost. They built a foundry there and fortified the island with new walls, about a dozen cannon (most of them locally-produced), and underwater obstacles. Mezcala Island became a major insurgent base, with a garrison of around 600-1,000 soldiers (it varied over time) and a fleet of about 100 boats, invariably described only as canoas (which, as noted earlier, can cover a wide range of vessels). Royalists built their own force of canoas and, after a disastrous premature attack on Mezcala, also brought disassembled vessels overland from the seaport of San Blas, many of them armed with cannon. They also constructed a small floating battery that suffered from severe design flaws and seems to have been quickly abandoned. Over the next several years, insurgents and royalists clashed in a series of battles as royalists repeatedly tried and failed to storm the island fortress or to blockade it into surrender. Despite the insurgents’ lack of many firearms—especially in the early years, their armies and fleets were armed mostly with slings and lances—Mezcala’s strong defenses blocked all efforts to take the island by force, and the blockade proved ineffective as light insurgent canoas regularly ran the blockade at night. Finally, in 1816, royalists simply destroyed everything around the lake that they couldn’t directly control, completely cutting the insurgents off from supplies. They surrendered soon after, negotiating generous terms to allow them to return home to rebuild, exempting them from tribute payments, and naming some leaders as political authorities. I bring this up only because I have to wonder if any of the insurgent vessels, in particular, would have been similar to the later canoas de rancho. Much of their fleet seems to have been made up of small fishing vessels, many of them probably dugouts, but at least a few were large enough to eventually mount a single small cannon (which seems improbable for a dugout), and Christon Archer reports that around twenty-five were large enough to carry up to twenty-five men. That they were able to bring together so many vessels also suggests the large number of boats used for fishing (and cargo hauling) on the lake by that time. (On the naval campaign, see: https://2006-2012.semar.gob.mx/unidad-de-historia-y-cultura-naval/independencia/mezcala.html , and Christon I Archer, “The Indian Insurgents of Mezcala Island on the Lake Chapala Front, 1812-1816,” pp. 84-128 in Susan Schoeder, Ed., Native Resistance and the Pax Colonial in New Spain (1998). William B. Taylor’s “Banditry and Insurrection: Rural Unrest in Central Jalisco, 1790-1816,” pp. 205-246 in Friedrich Katz’s edited volume Riot, Rebellion, and Revolution in Rural Mexico (1988) also is very interesting on the social context of the Mezcala Island insurgency, arguing that it largely stemmed from declining relations between villagers and priests, growing pressures on local resources due to population growth, and tensions provoked by the militarization of local authorities.) There’s actually a fascinating, if stylized, image drawn up by the royalists in 1817 detailing their fleet (or at least part of it) and the island fortress, a part of which is reproduced below. Not particularly relevant, I know, but it’s so cool I can’t help myself from sharing! The small lateen- or lug-rigged vessels at left are labeled as “falúas” (feluccas, although I was under the impression that these were usually two-masted?) and their armaments are given as a single 6-lb or 2-lb cannon. The somewhat larger gaff-rigged sloops at center right are labeled as “lanchas” (launches), except the rightmost which is apparently a “bolero” (I’m not sure what this is); the lanchas carried a single 24-lb cannon each and the bolero has a 10-lb cannon. To the right is the schooner (although the rig looks more like a brigantine) Carmen, carrying two 18-lb carronades and two 6-lb cannon, and the tiny “bote” (boat) Picudo, armed with two swivel guns. Without doing more extensive research, especially into the terminology used for Napoleonic-era Spanish ship’s boats, I’m not sure at the moment how many royalist vessels were ship’s boats, how many were originally coasting vessels (as I think the Carmen must have been, given its obviously larger size and topsail). It’s also worth noting that the image does not seem to include any royalist canoas, although Christon Archer notes that the royalist fleet included a number of them, unless the bote Picudo is meant to represent this type. It’s also worth noting that Archer describes several of the vessels here depicted as single-masted as having two masts--clearly the image is heavily stylized. Source: https://bibliotecavirtual.defensa.gob.es/BVMDefensa/es/consulta/registro.do?id=66377 Unfortunately, the insurgent fleet is not depicted, except for the captured royalist falúa Fernando en su Trono (labeled number 2 in the image, on the island at left, and referred to by the royalists after its capture as the Teresa owing to the embarrassment of having lost a vessel named after the king). Interestingly it appears to have two masts, and is hauled up on shore, which Archer notes the insurgents did after royalists nearly recaptured it in an ultimately failed assault. Evidently, their lighter canoas were more maneuverable and less tempting targets. In any case, the decades after independence were marked by the continuation of local fishing and trade. The extension of the railway to Ocotlán in 1888, however, led to major changes in the lake. Products from the lake and its surroundings could now be shipped around the country, vastly expanding markets for the lake’s producers. Fishing grew substantially, as did cabotage around the lake shore, carrying goods to and from the railway station’s terminus as haciendas on shore ramped up commercial production. A handful of steamships were built on the lake, but most traffic seems to have been carried in sail- or oar- or pole-powered vessels. The canoa de rancho, whether it existed earlier or was a new development from smaller previous vessels, became central to the lake’s economy, and numerous photos show bustling, crowded docks. As Angulo Sepulveda notes, some of the canoas de rancho could be quite large, up to 20 meters long and with a displacement of 30 tons. Ocotlán in 1902. Source: Photo from DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University, high-res version available on their site (I definitely recommend checking it out!): https://digitalcollections.smu.edu/digital/collection/mex/id/2308/rec/26 Another view of the docks at Ocotlán. Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A140957 Another view of Ocotlán highlighting the loading and unloading of cargo. https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A140967 As Carlos Ortiz Segura describes in his article “Todo tiempo pasado fue mejor,” (Gazeta de Antropología, 2001: http://www.gazeta-antropologia.es/?p=3291 ), the late nineteenth century marked a high point in the lake’s fishing industry. Fishermen caught several species of fish (the popular blanco, catfish, small transparent charales, etc) through a number of methods, drying and selling their catch to traders who brought it to major markets throughout the country. For the lakeshore’s residents, fishing full-time or as a supplement to agriculture was vital for their livelihoods. Foreign visitors like Thomas Philip Terry, as well as nationals like Eduardo A. Gibbon, were undoubtedly wrong to draw as strict a contrast as they did between “the cringing peon” of the haciendas and the “sturdy and self-reliant” lake fishermen (Terry, Terry’s Mexico, 156)—after all, many of the supposedly servile peons would rise in revolution shortly afterward—but I would suspect that many fishermen saw the work as a means toward economic independence and a measure of respectability. Some also seem to have used their vessels for both fishing and cabotage. Eduardo A. Gibbon noted that the canoa de rancho he rode on had arrived earlier that day to discharge a cargo of watermelon, but that it also was used for fishing—according to him, it was common to hang small fish to dry on the rigging, and as a result the vessel smelled strongly of fish. However—and this is my own interpretation of contradictory evidence—the careful maneuvering to position nets necessary for fishing probably meant that only the smallest, nimblest canoas de rancho could be used for this, as lighter canoas would have been generally better-suited for the work, and cheaper for fishermen, as well. However, as Ortiz Segura discusses, the fishing industry soon faced challenges. Changes in federal law in the late 1800s gave the federal government control over land surrounding rivers and lakes, which was often used to expand the holdings of large hacienda owners. Authorities also increasingly sought to implement much-resented licensing requirements. Most importantly, the vast swamps at the southeast end of the lake, a vitally important fishing site, were drained in the early 1900s to be turned into farmland, an action often given as the first significant step toward the lake’s severe desiccation problems. Terrestrial transportation also improved. While the railway that was built between Chapala and Guadalajara in 1920 proved a costly failure, closing down in 1926, the expansion in truck lines along the road between the two cities pointed toward the eventual end of the canoa de rancho… although, as can be seen here, at least one enterprising canoa owner managed to haul a truck on his vessel: Source: Minute 7:13 of Martín Sánchez’s youtube video, “Ferrocarril Chapala-Guadalajara, la historia de un fracaso” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8fLHmTZrN0 The Mexico (City)-Guadalajara highway was completed in the 1930s, passing relatively close to the lake, and a number of offshoot roads were developed along the lake’s shores. Highways opened faster terrestrial routes for transport. There were still a large number of canoas de rancho on the lake—I count at least ten sailing canoas, many of them canoas de rancho, in the photo below of 1942 Navy Day celebrations in Chapala—but they faced stiff competition from much faster land transport. Angulo Sepulveda notes that some boatbuilders modified some canoas de rancho to accept motors, but this change was too little, too late. As late as the 1950s, you can still find references in newspapers to canoas de rancho being used for cargo hauling, but they largely disappeared by that decade. The smaller fishing canoas persisted for much longer—despite serious problems with overuse of the lake’s water, which turned into an acute crisis in the 1950s when water levels dropped precipitously, as can be seen below—but by the present the old canoas have been mostly replaced by fiberglass vessels of the panga type. Only a small number of fishing canoas seem to still exist, whether still in use on the lake or having been turned into monuments. Navy Day celebrations in Chapala in 1942. Source: https://www.mexicoenfotos.com/MX16520378910167 Fishing canoa on the dried lake shore. Source: https://www.informador.mx/jalisco/Lluvias-en-ZMG-Cuando-Chapala-estuvo-a-punto-de-secarse--20220812-0061.html The canoa de rancho I’m modeling, then, is of a disappeared type. No examples appear to have survived to the present, unless there’s an old rotting hull tucked away somewhere on the lake's drying shore. Next, I’ll be taking a look at the hull design and construction of a canoa de rancho. Sources (besides those mentioned above): On the failure of the Chapala railway, see: Javier Medina Loera, “El ferrocarril a Chapala: historia de un fracaso” (2013): https://javiermedinaloera.com/reportajesyentrevistas/?p=95 On the impact of the Ocotlán railway on the lake’s haciendas: Mónica Solórzano Gil and Gabriel Michel Estrada, “Configuración del territorio de la ribera de Chapalaa partir del ferrocarril…”: https://patrimonica.wordpress.com/2018/10/23/configuracion-del-territorio-de-la-ribera-de-chapala-a-partir-del-ferrocarril-los-sistemas-de-transporte-multimodal-y-las-haciendas-a-principios-del-siglo-xx/ On changes in the wetlands around Chapala: Pedro Damián Loeza Lara, Rubén Darío Ramírez Sánchez, and Mario Alberto Reyes Téllez, “La Ciénaga de Chapala, Michoacán: cambios y permanencies en la construcción regional,” Relaciones. Estudios de historia y sociedad 36, 142 (June 2015): https://www.scielo.org.mx/scielo.php?pid=S0185-39292015000200237&script=sci_arttext Similarly, see: Philippus Wester, “Capturing the Waters: The Hydraulic Mission in the Lerma-Chapala Basin, Mexico (1876-1976),” Water History 1 (2009): https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s12685-009-0002-7 On the drying of the lake, see: Karl M. Helbig, “El Lago de Chapala y su desecamiento,” Boletín del Archivo Histórico del Agua 24 (2003): https://dialnet.unirioja.es/servlet/articulo?codigo=3217245 On the recollections of an old fisherman about the 1940s, see: Gabriel Chávez Rameño, “Crónicas de un Pescador”: http://semanariolaguna.com/6000/

BE ADVISED: It will be several posts until I get to the actual build. Very sorry about that, but I want to be thorough about documenting all the research that’s going into this. Introduction Hi all, I had a lot of fun with the Model Shipways Lowell Grand Banks Dory kit, as well as scratch-building the Trajinera. I’m looking forward to my next kit, the Model Shipways Muscongus Bay Lobster Smack, which will undoubtedly teach me a lot about planking and rigging. But, it’s still in the mail. Given how much I enjoyed the trajinera, I thought I would try my hand with another scratch build of a classic Mexican vessel—this time something a bit more complicated, but still relatively simple in construction. Originally, following a visit to the port of Veracruz, I tried to find plans for a Veracruz coastal fishing boat, but I had no luck and decided that the vessels I could find in photos—small sloops and schooners—were a bit too complicated at my current skill level to try to scratch build, especially without plans. Instead, after randomly coming across some interesting photos, I’ve chosen something with a hull that is similar in some respects to the dory, and something with extremely simple rigging, but something that will still stretch my skills: a Canoa de Rancho from Lake Chapala in the late-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century, used for fishing and cabotage on Mexico’s largest lake. Before I go further, here are a few representative photos of the type of boat in question that hopefully give some visual sense of why I was first struck by them. Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A139790 Source: http://ri.uacj.mx/vufind/Record/96906 Source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/nullboy/6386212027/in/album-72157628104176801/ Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A139791 Source: https://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/fotografia%3A141742 As you can see, these are very distinctive vessels, with a wide variety in sizes united by similar hull forms (upturned sharp bow, generally boxy stern, a cabin of sorts) and a similar sail plan (a single mast with an odd sort of cross between a square, a lug, and a settee rig—I’ll be discussing the rigging’s peculiarities in a future post). Before getting too far into things, I should note: despite my best efforts, I have not found any hull plans. These vessels would not have been built according to plans, but rather based on the builder’s long experience and traditions (although I have found some evidence of traditions changing—tradition can be quite flexible!). Moreover, they fell out of use by the mid-twentieth century and apparently no examples survive, although some smaller fishing boats with similar hull construction do survive. Unless it turns out that Howard Chapelle took a vacation to Lake Chapala and recorded the canoa's lines or something--in which case I'd love to hear about it!--my build is therefore speculative, based as well as I can on photographic evidence, of which there is thankfully quite a bit. Fortunately I am building a model of a generic rather than a specific vessel, and as can be seen above, there was a great deal of variation in practice between vessels, so I think I should be able to make a decent representation of a generic vessel. (That said, I should really try making something that has plans for my next scratch-build!) I should also note that figuring out how to build these and how they were used required substantial research, given the limited sources available about them, so it’s going to take a few posts before I get into the actual build. So, here I’ll be talking a bit about sources and then the broader context and history of these vessels. In future posts, I’ll be discussing what I can tell of hull design and construction and the rigging/sail plan—all of which have some oddities compared to usual practice. But first, a note about the name, types of vessels on Lake Chapala, and the specific type of vessel I’m modeling. What’s In A Name? The Chapala Canoa (de Rancho) While some image captions label these vessels with generic words meaning “boat” or “sailboat” (lancha, embarcación, velero, etc.), most sources just call them “canoas.” Canoa is usually translated as “canoe,” but in Mexico, the word is often used as a generic term for a wide variety of small vessels. The trajineras of the central basin, for instance, are also termed canoas, despite being flat-bottomed barges. Given this variety, I have chosen to leave the word “canoa” untranslated, as “canoe” wouldn’t be quite accurate. On Lake Chapala, small dugouts seem to have been called either canoas or cayucos (according to information from the National Institute of Anthropology and History: https://lugares.inah.gob.mx/es/museos-inah/museo/museo-piezas/10858-10858-canoa-la-brisa.html?lugar_id=480 ) while larger vessels of a wide variety of sizes were often simply called canoas. José María Angulo Sepulveda generally calls them “sailing canoas” (canoas veleras). However, in his novel La canoa perdida (more about which below), Ramón Rubín distinguishes between the simple canoa, which he says is technically a type of chalupa (yet another word for a small vessel), and the canoa de rancho, which he says is technically a lanchón (a curious word: lancha means small boat, the -ón suffix means large, so a lanchón is a big small boat). Although both the canoa and the canoa de rancho share a number of construction and design characteristics, the canoa was smaller, used mostly for fishing, and could be propelled by sail, oar, and pole, while the canoa de rancho was larger—Angulo Sepulveda says up to 20 meters long and 30 tons displacement—used more often for cabotage rather than fishing, propelled only by sail or pole, and was distinguished by having a “rancho,” the term used for the thatched or wooden cabin structure at the stern. The rancho was used to protect passengers and cargo from the elements. Other sources confirm that the cabin was in fact called a rancho, and it’s a very distinctive part, so I have decided to follow Rubín’s terminology in order to title my build log. Below we can see, first, several smaller fishing canoas, and second, a large (~60 foot long) canoa de rancho. The similarities are evident, as are some differences in proportions. Notably, the fishing canoas survived much longer than the canoas de rancho did, so there are more color photos of them than of their larger cousins. Small fishing canoas. Source: https://www.museocjv.com/chapalapostaless.html Large canoa de rancho from a postcard. Source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/nullboy/6386211855/in/album-72157628104176801/ I should note, though, that other evidence suggests that Rubín was wrong to draw such a sharp distinction between the fishing-oriented, row-able canoa and the cargo-hauling, non-row-able canoa de rancho. As I’ll discuss more later, it seems that small canoas de rancho (maybe around the 27-35 foot long range) were actually row-able and used for fishing as well. In fact, the photo at the beginning with the man standing at the bow, nearly silhouetted against the lake, very clearly shows a small canoa de rancho with thole pins for rowing. These mixed-use vessels may have been the exception, but I have chosen to model one of them. I am very interested in trying to model a thatched rancho (and if I mess up on the thatching, I can always just make it a simpler wooden one), but I am also interested in modeling some of the fishing gear, which requires modeling a vessel that both had a rancho and was used for fishing. This excludes the larger and smaller vessels. I did not want to model all the cargo they would haul—making dozens of scale watermelons or sacks or crates did not seem like my idea of a good time! I considered building it at 1:24 scale to be consistent with the dory, but this would require a model around 15 inches long, which would be a little large given my space limits, so I decided to go for 1:32 scale, at which the model will be around 12 inches or a little less. Sources As mentioned above, photos are the most useful sources I have. Lake Chapala and its surrounding towns became an important tourist destination in the late 1800s. Postcards with photos of these vessels were apparently popular, given how many survive, and a number of photographers took large numbers of photographs of the lake’s vessels. These photos are available online via a number of sources. Many are available through the digital Mediateca of the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH). Unfortunately, many of the Mediateca photos are rather grainy and low-res (at least in their digitized versions). Other photos are available from the website México en Fotos, often in higher-resolution versions (although the latter are heavily watermarked). Other sources include the online postcard collections of the Universidad Autónoma de Ciudad Juárez, the virtual Museo Claudia Jiménez Vizcarra, a flickr album of postcards from the lake, and a number of videos about local history uploaded to youtube. I will make sure to clearly source all of the photos that I show, and I should note that in many cases, I am showing relatively low-res screenshots that are zoomed in on specific parts of the photo. Written sources are rather more limited. La navegación de antaño en el Lago de Chapala, written by local chronicler José María Angulo Sepulveda (originally published in 1987, reprinted in 2004) is the most detailed and focused work. It includes a number of details on lake vessels and their history on the lake and appears to mostly be based on interviews with locals. Unfortunately, the book is currently out of print, and I was unable to find it for purchase online or after visiting a lot of used bookstores. Through my institutional library, I was able to get a scan of a 20-page section that I believed would be useful based on the tiny samples available on google books, but nothing more. The section includes useful information on the construction of the canoas, as well as a couple hand-drawn depictions of them, one with all the parts labeled which is quite helpful even if it’s not quite what one would need to make a scale model. Other secondary sources include a number of academic works about the fishing industry on Lake Chapala and the lake’s environmental history, which are useful for understanding fishing techniques and the social-environmental history of the lake and its sailors. However, they have few if any details on the vessels themselves. Published primary sources are more variable. Unsurprisingly, my search in major newspapers (which, prior to the Revolution, are readily available in digital form) turned up almost nothing—small fishing communities attracted little journalistic attention except in the case of notable accidents. Travel writing was somewhat more useful. As noted, Lake Chapala became a popular tourist destination, and a useful introduction to many of the lake’s prominent visitors can be found (in English) at the site: https://lakechapalaartists.com/ The lake’s distinctive canoas attracted a degree of attention. However, few discussed them in much detail. Thomas Philip Terry’s popular foreign guidebook Terry’s Mexico: Handbook for Travelers (Revised Second Edition, 1911) contains a surprising amount of detail on fishing in the lake, but mentions the canoas (which he calls “fishing-smacks”) in passing only as a picturesque backdrop: “Each tiny port has its stretch of white beach in lieu of a harbor and a main street; and each its fleet of time- and water-stained fishing-smacks, resting placidly on the sand” (157-158). William Carson English’s Mexico: The Wonderland of the South (Revised Edition, 1914) similarly emphasizes the picturesque aspects of the vessels, which he inaccurately calls “small fishing schooners” (352). In contrast, Eduardo A. Gibbon, a Mexican journalist, poet, and diplomat, discussed the lake and its canoas in some detail in his book Guadalajara (La Florencia Mexicana): vagancias y recuerdos (1893). Especially useful are his writings on the storm-shortened voyage he took on a decent-sized (he said it was 10 tons) canoa de rancho. Gibbon waxed rhapsodic about the lake’s great natural beauty and its proud history, evidently promoting it as a matter of natural pride. However, after riding aboard both a canoa and a modern steamboat, he ultimately seemed fine with committing the canoas to the past, writing that, “if the lancha-canoas with their lateen sails represented the past, and imperfect and dangerous navigation, the steamer, marvel of our century, represented the present with all its potent vitality and its conquests of progress” (352). I’ll be continuing to search through travel writings about Chapala to see if I can find much about the vessels in question. Perhaps the most useful work for understanding these vessels and their context (outside of Angulo Sepulveda’s book) is actually a novel, Ramón Rubín Rivas’s La canoa perdida: una novela mestiza (1951; my version is the 1996 reprint by the Fondo de Cultura Económica). Rubín (1912-1999) is an interesting figure. Many of his novels deal with indigenista themes (that is, they’re explicitly or implicitly about the question of the role of indigenous people and culture in the modern nation), but he also was himself an experienced sailor, apparently having worked aboard merchant ships for some time, and several of his works deal with life at sea. This experience makes his discussion of the canoa particularly convincing, although he also is a bit disparaging of how Chapala sailors took up maritime terminology in what he views as an extremely haphazard fashion. La canoa perdida follows the story of a poor fisherman, the ironically-named Ramiro Fortuna, who eventually attains a particularly nice canoa that is quickly stolen, sending him on a journey around the lake in search of his vessel (I mean, there’s more to it than that). The book is out of print, but I was eventually (through luck on Facebook marketplace) able to get a copy. I haven’t finished it yet, but the early chapters are extremely detailed on the lives and livelihoods of poor fishermen—Rubín clearly had a strong interest in social realism and his characters’ economic grounding (after all, he was a Marxist). His introduction also strikes a very elegiac tone about the fast-disappearing canoas de rancho, writing of “the high Phoenecian sails of their great lanchones or canoas de rancho” (12). La canoa perdida’s strong environmental themes critiqued Lake Chapala’s over-exploitation and desiccation, and made Rubín political enemies. It’s an interesting work, and I’ll continue to post useful details from it as I come across them. Finally, the Guadalajara Regional Museum (Museo Regional de Guadalajara) and the Anthropology and History Museum of Ocotlán (Museo de Antropología e Historia de Ocotlán) both have large models of canoas de rancho, seen below, that were built in the 1980s. Interestingly, they were built by one of the people Angulo Sepulveda interviewed for his own drawings of the canoa de rancho. A few images are available of them online. They’re useful for a few details, but they don’t seem to be quite to scale and have some details that seem either inaccurate, as I haven’t seen them in any photo of actual vessels, or atypical, as I’ve only seen them in a small portion of the vessels photographed. The museums also don’t seem to have necessarily rigged them correctly—in the image below of the Guadalajara model, the halyard seems to have been tied to the anchor chain. Source: https://lugares.inah.gob.mx/es/museos-inah/museo/museo-piezas/10858-10858-canoa-la-brisa.html?lugar_id=480 Anyway, this post is already huge, so I’m going to end it here. Next: a bit about Lake Chapala and the history of the canoa de rancho.

Well done! I think it looks great without the rigging, it really brings attention to the lines of the hull and all the fittings.

Thanks, I'm glad to hear people find the log helpful! I think this is a great kit not just because of the quality of the parts and instructions, but also because it leaves a lot of room for personalization.

Things have been busy, so I worked slowly this week, but the build is finished! Mark.bukovich's Chesapeake Flattie build had some great directions for making nice rope loops that hang off a cleat, so I followed his example. Mine ended up being a bit clunky, but they work, and in any case this isn't a naval vessel I'm modeling. I'm just glad the rope is up off the thwart. I used a bit of glue to help shape the line. Also, I clearly need to get some locking tweezers or hemostats for rigging, as it was very tricky to hold the bights with normal tweezers while looping the rope. Also, as seen above, I did something a little unusual with the line hanging off the snotter. The simplest thing to do would be to just trim it nearly to the knot, but I figured you might want to have a bit of extra length in the line in case you needed to retie it on the fly or something. I also didn't want to just have a lot of line dangling. So, I tied a bowline with the excess, high up enough that it shouldn't snag anything. I tried some different arrangements with the fishing equipment. Here, for instance, a thwart is removed and the lobster trap is in the middle. Ultimately, I think the lobster trap looks best in the stern, especially because I want the funnel facing starboard so it's visible (and, with the rope and buoy, it's hard to fit it that way at the bow), but it might get in the way of sailing and steering there. I decided to leave it that way for now, but nothing in the boat is glued down so I can move things around if I change my mind. I also added a loop in the sheet following the same method as for the lobster trap line. With that, the rigging was complete. I've also been working on a scratchbuilt stand, as I would like to save all the thick basswood that I can (it's not readily available here, as far as I can tell). I'll have to pack things up for moving, so to reduce the risk of breakage I want something that can be disassembled. I also wanted something that looks nice with angled upright pieces. I probably way over-engineered this, but it's fun. With the sheet looped and the new stand built, the dory was finished! I don't think it turned out half bad. Overall, I had a great time building this. I really learned a lot about boat building and scale techniques, both from the instructions and also from the helpful folks on this forum. Thank you all for your advice and encouragement! I'm still waiting for my next kit, the Model Shipways Muscongus Bay Lobster Smack, to arrive. (Between that kit and the lobster trap, I'm making a lot of lobster fishing things for a guy with a shellfish allergy!) In the meantime, I may start on another scratch-built Mexican vessel.... we'll see.

Nice job with the repairs, the hull looks great!

Good to know, thanks!

Wow, nice job, congratulations on finishing up with a great-looking model! I'm thinking of planking the deck whenever my own kit arrives. I remember that you mentioned earlier that you weren't sure if the uppermost strake would be wide enough for the thickness of the deck planks. It seems like it all worked out in the end?

Sorry for posting on an old topic, but thanks for showing so clearly how to do this! I found your instructions really helpful for my own rigging. (Also great job on the build!)

Thanks, I'm having a great time modding things. The dory is nearly done! Given my difficulties with finding good sail material, I decided that I can live with the too-thick sail for now, and it wouldn't be all that difficult to change it out if I want to in the future. I attached the new cleats to the mast after a little shaping. This time I was happy with how they turned out. I got some new thread that's closer in color to manila rope. As practice, I tried a cleat hitch from memory (as can be seen, I messed up). In any case, I think this thread will work better for the running rigging. Next I marked where the sail will be lashed to the mast with pencil. Punching the holes in the thick, heavily glued sail material was difficult. I ended up putting a needle in my pin vise and using it as a punch with scrap balsa beneath, which worked. Even still, it was hard getting the needle and thread through the sail to lash it to the mast. But it was doable. This time the cleat hitches were done correctly! The fact that the sail is thick enough to stand perfectly upright without the sprit definitely shows that it's too thick... oh well, I'll learn for the future. The sprit was a little tricky to tie off. I used a rolling hitch on the mast, which turned out ok. There was very little space to tie off the line around the sprit, though, that I just did a simple knot. Finally I tied the sheet at the clew. A few drops of glue rubbed into the line, and at the bolt rope loop around the end of the sprit, served to make sure everything would stay together. The boat is nearly done now, I just have to figure out what to do with the dangling rope ends and rearrange the fishing gear into a configuration that makes more sense with the sail. Some of the excess rope, like around the snotter, can simply be trimmed a bit close to the knot. Any suggestions for what to do with the excess below the cleats, or for the sheet? It seems like a few too many lines for each to be a neat rope coil. (And, of course, I need to actually make a base. Given my difficulties finding thicker basswood, I want to keep the big basswood sheet for other purposes, but I need to figure out something else for the base then.)

I ended up modifying the Chapelle sail plan substantially, although the mast and spar dimensions are similar (slightly shorter as it's a smaller vessel, though) and I'll be following that example for rigging the snotter. I'm modeling a slightly shorter vessel than in the Chapelle plans, and one that isn't a dedicated sailer--the sheet is just held by hand instead of run through a block at the stern. So I shortened the foot to make a more manageable sail. I also raised the tack and foot a bit higher so the sail wouldn't interfere with any fishing equipment in the boat (althoughto be honest the sail on the peapod I showed earlier looks pretty low). Finally, I lengthened the head a bit so that, with the other modifications, it wouldn't be too small of a sail. I tried a few templates cut from scrap paper, eventually finding one I liked. I followed the Norwegian Pram instructions to make the sail. I made a few mistakes with my first attempt. First, I should have waited to draw the sail template onto the fabric until after I added the watered-down glue, as I read in build logs that the pencil lines become impossible to erase after gluing. Second, my sail material was a bit larger than the non-stick flat backing I had (a spare flooring tile), so I ended up doing a poor job taping it. It seemed fine at first, but after leaving it to dry I found that the material had bubbled. The material was still useful for cutting reinforcing strips and corners, but I thought it wouldn't work for the sail. For my second attempt, I cut a smaller piece of the material so it could be better taped down. It turned out much better, although it still had some very slight bubbling later (after I added another coat of glue with the reinforcement strips). I added reinforcing strips around the edges. I also decided to draw on the seams and stitches with a pencil, especially because the fabric is a bit too thick and the reinforcements don't show through the other side very well unless it's held up to light. I was pretty happy with how the sail looked. Meanwhile, I had been working on figuring out the rigging. Some articles online about sprit rigs suggested that you could just tie things down around the thwart, but that a cleat was easier to handle and better organized. Tying off around the thwart sounded like something that would make unshipping the mast harder--after all, I'm trying to model something that would be taken down and set up quickly when the opportunity arose--and also like something that would look messy. Ultimately, I decided to go with two cleats, on the fore and aft sides of the mast. This would keep things orderly and allow the mast to be easily unshipped, as a unit, or for the sail to be let down if desired. I made the cleats from scrap basswood. I then made the spar from some scrap basswood. As with the mast, I found it a little hard to smoothly sand it round, and there were a few minor gouges during sanding. Ideally I think I would like to use a harder wood for masts and spars. I drilled a hole for the snotter and carefully trimmed the end for where the bolt rope loops around the sprit at the peak. Next, the bolt rope. I wasn't fully happy with how my rope dyeing was turning out, so I decided to leave it as-is. In any case, I'm not planning on weathering the sail, so I don't want it to look out of place. I read a post, I think by ccoyle, somewhere on the forum saying that, if you're careful, you can attach the bolt rope right on the edge of the fabric. I actually had an extremely easy time doing so, which is a clear sign that my sail cloth is much too thick--the bolt rope is actually a bit thinner than the sail at the corners where there are multiple layers of reinforcements. In my defense, I couldn't find anything more suitable despite going to three fabric stores. Seemingly everything available is polyester. The bolt rope, and sail more generally, turned out well, but I'm considering whether I should try a few more fabric stores to see if I can find thin cotton fabric. On one hand, it would be more accurate. On the other hand, it would be more work, both finding the fabric and making a whole new sail from it. In any case, I feel like I've learned a lot about sail making from this. Finally, I also decided that I didn't much like the look of the cleats, as it was too obvious that they were the same material as the mast. I made new ones from a coffee stir stick. The wood was a bit brittle so it took a few tries, but they turned out better by the end. New ones at top, old ones at bottom. Next to attach the cleats (again) and make a decision about the sail before I lash it to the mast.

Looks great, it's cool to see it all coming together!

Thanks for the build log, it looks great! Having attempted to scratch-build a model of a Missouri River sternwheeler for a school presentation in middle school--it did not turn out very well--it's really fascinating to see the process of how someone who actually knows what they're doing and has woodworking skills goes about building one of these.

Wow, thanks so much for these! Clearly I need to get Chapelle's book. Very interesting on the mast step, it looks like there's a hole on both the first and second thwarts (presumably you wouldn't use the jib if it was stepped in the first thwart). I'll need to study the plans more, but my thought at the moment is that I can draw on the plans for inspiration but modify them a bit. Although I might try my hand at another dory in the future, it seems like a nice, relatively simple build to learn about scratch building from plans (instead of the "eyeball everything and hope for the best" method I used for the trajinera, with mixed results). Given that the dory I'm building isn't a dedicated sailer, lacking a centerboard or rudder, and the mast/sail is meant to be easily unshipped, I think I'll leave off the jib for now, and I might shrink the sail a bit, especially at the foot, to get something that would be more easily manageable with the sheet just held in hand. It's interesting that Chapelle also shows the snotter simply tied off around the mast, so I think I'll go with that instead of attaching it to a cleat as in the Bluejacket dory. The spar dimensions are also really helpful. Thanks again for the plans I really appreciate you taking the time to scan them, and I'm definitely making use of then even if I go with a slightly different sail plan!

Thanks, that's incredibly helpful! Clearly I should have checked Chapelle before diving in, haha. With the mast step already glued in place under the second rather than the first thwart, I think I'll have to live with my mistake there. But hopefully I can avoid any further errors. If you're willing to scan and post the plans, I would really appreciate it! Looking forward to seeing your peapod build!

(This was originally going to be part of the above post, but it was already pretty long). At this point, I think I'm done with the furnishings. But, I've been working on a larger addition to the build: a mast and sail. I was especially inspired by the many fantastic build logs of the Bluejacket dory kit, which does include a sail. Although this dory won't have a rudder (or a centerboard) and isn't a dedicated sailer, simple spritsails were nonetheless common on dories, designed to be easily unshipped and used only if the wind was favorable. I plan to make mine so it can also be unshipped, which is not only an interesting possibility for displaying the model but also will make transporting it much easier. The first step was preparing the mast step assembly. I noticed that the Bluejacket kit looks to be framed following the Shelburne dory style, with each frame made of three pieces held together with metal braces at the joints, while this kit, representing a Lowell dory, uses frames build of two pieces of wood. This means that each frame is rather thicker across the bottom than on the Bluejacket dory, which is relevant for the mast as the mast needs to be stepped through the number two thwart and down to a mast step on the bottom. The thwart in the kit sits centered on the frame, making it impossible to fit a mast as the frame is right under it. So, the first step for me was to make a new thwart from scrap wood, with the frame slots further back so that the thwart sits further forward. I also added a piece across the center on the bottom to reinforce the area where the mast step will be drilled, as I saw this on a photo of a dory in a museum (below). The mast step hole will have to be cut toward the front of the thwart to fit around the frame, but it will work. The photo below compares the kit's thwart (below) with my scratch-built one (above), prior to drilling the mast step hole. Next, the mast step itself, which I made of scrap wood. Lacking any files, I decided the best way to make a square hole (measured for a 1/16th inch square piece) would be to cut the step in half, cut out half the step, then glue it back together. As can be seen, I first accidentally cut the wrong side, but I decided againat replacing the part. Instead, I filled it in with scrap wood and sawdust with glue. After sanding and painting, the mistake was invisible, as seen later. After the glue was dry on the step, but before gluing anything to the dory, I drilled a pilot hole in the thwart and did a test fitting with the leftover 3/64th-inch thole pin material, just to check that nothing was horribly out of alignment. It still wasn't time to attach the step, though--first I wanted to make the mast itself, so I could make sure to fit the mast step properly. I made the mast out of the scrap wood from around the display board. Following the suggestions given in the Model Shipways Norwegian Pram instructions (which are available for download on the model shipways site) I cut the 1/8th-square piece into an octagonal cross-section, making sure to always cut with the grain, and then carefully sanded it circular and tapered a bit at the ends by running it through a sheet of sandpaper that I held curved in my palm. I could do a better job getting it perfect in the future, but for a first attempt I'm happy with it. I also noticed that the basswood seems a little soft for making masts, and had to fill a divot that somehow got sanded into it with a mix of glue and sawdust, which seemed to work. I then drilled a hole at the top for tge rigging and added a bit of 1/16th-square wood at the bottom to slot into the mast step (I used the pin vise to drill a hole in the bottom to better hold the piece). Finally, I drilled out the hole in the thwart for the mast. I did a test fitting, marked the location for the mast step, then glued it to the bottom after scraping a bit the paint that was where it would be. Then I painted the step. I'm happy with how the mast fits! As for the sail, I had no luck finding a really thin cotton fabric despite visiting multiple shops, but in one shop's scrap pile I did find a large number of pieces that are a good size for the sail (and extra in case I mess up). They're slightly thicker than I would like, but for now it will work, especially considering they were about 50 cents. I haven't started making the sail yet, but will be drawing on the Norwegian Pram instructions as well as the "Scale Sails For Your Model" pdf. At this point, while I still haven't made the sprit or sail, there's something I'd like to ask for help to clarify. The Bluejacket kit depicts a spritsail rigged with a snotter and with lines tied off at cleats. This seems like the classic way to rig a spritsail. But, a different method seems to be used in the examples I've found online. The dory at the Mariner's Museum, seen below, seems to have the sprit basically just tied to the mast (which might technically be a snotter, just an extremely short one). The sprit-rigged lobstering peapod below also seems (it's a bit blurry) to be similar. No cleats in sight. (Image links: https://iscc.marinersmuseum.org/watercraft/grand-banks-dory/ And https://maineboats.com/online/boat-features/evolution-maine-lobsterboat ) So, how should I go about rigging this? Part of me wants to just base it on the Bluejacket model and include cleats etc, which would look nice and be good for building experience. But part of me thinks I should follow the photos and go for accuracy. If I do the latter, though, there are two things I'm unsure of. 1) How does the loop of the snotter that goes around the mast stay in position and not slide around, especially given the taper of the mast? (I mean, I could glue it, but that seems like cheating). Reading online about spritsails on smsll boats, it seems like a sliding snotter could be used to adjust the sail, but that still doesn't tell me anything about how it would stay in position when you didn't want it to slide. 2) No hoist--I think that's the term for the line used to haul up the sail, but I might be wrong, different articles seemed to use different terms with one calling it a halyard--is visible. Where would it be tied off without a visible cleat? If you have any suggestions, please let me know, I'd really appreciate any help. I've tried looking in David Steel's 1794 book "The Elements and Practice of Rigging and Seamanship," but while it's useful on the sails themselves it's not very clear on the questions I have. In any case, I'm learning a lot from this build, and really enjoying it!

Thanks, glad to hear it! Looking forward to your lobster smack build log, as I recently ordered that kit for myself. I'm also curious about some of the Mini Mamoli kits of Mediterranean fishing vessels, although from your experience it sounds like they may have some issues with the instructions.

Nicely done, congratulations on the build. It looks great, and despite not building this particular model, I've learned a lot from the build log!

Thanks, I'm really enjoying making the fittings! The University of Maine's Lobster Institute lists a gaff hook among the tools used in lobstering, especially for hooking the line connected to the buoy. Sounds good to me! I decided to make the shaft out of a toothpick, and the hook from a paperclip. I started by cutting off the tip of the toothpick and using the pin vise to drill a hole, about 1/8th to 1/4th of an inch deep, to secure the paperclip hook. I've found that, given the limited pressure you can exert on a pin vise, it's best to start with a small pilot hole and work your way up. Despite the small diameter of the hole I drilled, I still needed to use three drill bits to cut it! (This might in part be because I bought a very cheap pin vise and many drill bits are not very sharp at the tip, although for all I know that's normal for tiny drill bits). The photo below shows the toothpick, end-on, propped up by the pin vise. I don't have a wire cutter, so I used some pliers to twist the paperclip back and forth at a certain point until it broke, making the hook. I rubbed the broken end on some sandpaper in hopes that that would wear down any jagged bits. Then I was able to fit the hook into the shaft. Thinking back to when I used to tie fishing flies, I used black thread as a serving on a makeshift jig. The serving was a bit messy but it worked. I realized then that I should have painted the shaft before serving. Thankfully, I was able to carefully paint it without painting the serving. I didn't want it to be the same color as the trap, so I gave it a few coats of a thin ochre wash, followed by a light black wash to bring out the texture of the wood. I also painted the buoy. I thought a thin white coat over a black wash would look good, but it ended up a little stark and grey. I mixed a tiny bit of ochre into the white to make more of a cream color, which I used to paint the buoy. I added a dark red stripe, then a very light black wash for texture. The photo below shows how the buoy and gaff hook turned out after painting--note that I left the end of the hook unpainted, as it will be cut off. Also note that, after finding in a test that the paint doesn't adhere very well to the paperclip, I decided to leave the hook as natural metal. Maybe in the future I'll experiment with aging effects on metal, but for now I can live with the hook being a bit shiny. I finished the gaff hook by cutting off the end, painting the cut end black, and adding serving again as a sort of handle. I also glued in a loop of string to the end of the buoy to finish that part, as well. About the rope/string: I wasn't crazy about how the beckets had turned out, so after some experimentation I found that the string looks better and more consistent if it's first lightly soaked in the cream-colored wash, then, after that dries, quickly dipped in a black wash. The photo below compares the original, right, with it after the cream wash but before the black wash, left. It's a subtle difference, but it takes some of the sheen off the string. The effect with the black wash can be seen above with the buoy, or later. I think adding the black wash makes sense for lines that would spend a lot of time in the water, like the lobster trap line, but I like the cleaner look of the cream wash for something like rigging. Hmmmm, shame there's no rigging on this dory... more about that later. Finally, I wanted to make a rope loop for the line connecting the lobster trap to the buoy. I decided against a line bucket for now, but thought a rough loop (instead of a tight coil) sitting on the thwart wouldn't look bad. I made a jig using plastic brush protectprs and used watered-down glue to make the loop. My first attempt, pictured below, tried to make it look like the line had been simply looped around someone's arm from elbow to hand. But, it not only didn't turn out looking right--it was too tall--but also the glue was too watery, failing to hold its shape. Thankfully, the watery glue also meant the line could still be shaped. I simplified the jig to make more of a circular loop and gave that a try. Ultimately, I'm reasonably happy with how it turned out, although I think it could be shaped to better fit, and hang more naturally, at the stern thwart. The line is by now soaked in enough glue that it's hard to shape it more. The gaff hook looks decent in the dory as well, albeit a little shiny, and I'm not totally sure where they would put it. All fittings are currently not glued in place, so if you want to suggest a more accurate way to place things, I'm all ears!

Looks great! I saw the St. Roch years ago in Vancouver, so I'm looking forward to following the build.