It was an offhand comment at the end of a phone call with my wife. "Oh, your plans came today." That certainly made it tough to finish up a day at the office. The plans were a $110 down payment on a dream that emerged from years of reading, studying and preparing.
I had decided to build a boat.
Of course, the drawings, text and pictures that came in mid-May were just the beginning. Now, our family builds, sands, disassembles, reworks and paints. Then we paint some more. We also source supplies and buy parts, with marine-grade plywood and epoxy currently high on the list.
But those plans were the first tangible step from the abstract to the physical, and they represented hundreds of hours of research into our needs, capabilities and options.
Much of this was new to me. Many people are raised with a boat because they live near the water, but I was not. Growing up south of Atlanta, I was only on a boat a handful of times, and I even took my time learning to swim (yes, I did eventually learn). But boats have always been a fascination. I built radio controlled models as a kid. When I got married, my wife and I often got on the water during vacations, even if it was just a harbor tour. On one trip, we drove parallel to the Dismal Swamp Canal and wound up walking the docks and ogling cruisers. Then, we attended a TrawlerFest. That sealed it: I wanted a trawler.
Drawing courtesy of Chesapeake Marine DesignEnamored of the trawler form, a Trailer Trawler 28 was one of the options the author examined.Subscribing to magazines and doing research got me more fascinated with designs, details and systems. Slowly, the idea of buying a trawler – even a used fix-me-up – was replaced by the idea of building one. First, I thought I might supervise a factory build. Then, as the economic realities emerged, I decided to do it myself.
Buying a trawler can cost $250,000 or more. A used boat can be less, but the repair costs and upkeep are still significant. I work in computer support and, although it is a good-paying job, large expenditures are not part of the plan. I'm handy. I build things. I can do this.
PAY AS YOU GO
Building has some advantages: you know the boat inside and out and you can have it your way, whatever that may be. Probably the best argument is that you can spread the cost out over time – too often, lots of time – by paying as you go. Building yourself means labor is "free" and you can implement strategies to save money, such as creating a plain interior with the expectation that you will finish it later. In the end, you have a custom boat that is debt free.
But the most important reason is that I truly want to do this. Building a boat yourself is rarely the best decision, economically or otherwise. In my mind, that doesn't make it wrong. Boat building is a labor of love. As many have said, if you want to build a boat, great. If you want to go boating, buy something and get out there. I really want to build a boat.
What to build was the next question. I tend to be interested in the power world, although I certainly saw plenty of attractive sailing craft. I even dabbled with designing my own, and looked at some correspondence marine architecture classes. I examined various trawler plans by George Buehler, Michael Kasten and the like. These were nice boats, all ocean-capable world cruisers.
Time passed. More time passed. The activities and planning continued. Somewhere along the line, I told my young son that I was going to build a boat. Let me give you a hint: do not tell a 3-year-old something and expect them not to remember it – or to keep it quiet. He has been and continues to be patient, but occasionally I would hear "are you working on the boat plans?" or "when are we going to build that boat?" He wouldn't complain, but it would give me a little wrench. This was something I wanted to do. This was something I wanted to do with him.
HULL CONSTRUCTION
Over time, the trawler love gave way to various European designs. The Dutch Barge is still a favorite. I explored the possibility of obtaining plans from several designers for a version suitable for U.S. coastal and river cruising. This entire round of European design research led me to lean heavily toward a steel hull. I still think that might have been the best solution. But a lack of experience – I have never welded – and a lack of a place to perform noisy, messy steel work led me in another direction. Fiberglass is also a good material, but the required molds and support equipment for a one-off hull makes it impractical. Ultimately, all roads led to wood. But that one choice is something I could expound on for pages.
As a way to combine and structure all my research, I started a blog. That got me a bit more organized and busy with it all. The flip side is that being busy researching and updating web pages isn't being busy building a boat. I ordered and read books, hung out on design and building forums, and read tons of mailing lists. I found there are always multiple sides to an argument. Boat builders are as opinionated as any group – and often both sides are right, depending on the boat and the body of water.
Photo courtesy of Mildred's Cove BoatshopA Bluejacket 25.5 was under consideration. Pictured here is the Bluejacket 24.
This revelation led to another: every boat is a compromise. Experts can be found to support every viewpoint. This doesn't mean they are right or wrong. Sure there are basic design criteria – scantlings have to be strong enough, and so forth – but what is a requirement in one circumstance can often be problematic in another.
If a boat is good in deep water, it probably has a deeper draft and is therefore not great in shallow rivers. If it has a flat bottom, making it easy to build and great in shallow waters, it may not handle as well and can pound in chop. You have to decide what you actually plan to do with the boat and choose a design that supports your usage. No boat can be all things to all people. Even the major navies of the world, with budgets we can only dream of, have different types of craft for different uses.
I read, talked and read some more. After more hints from my son, we decided to start small and build a dinghy. It took far too long – nearly a year on the calendar, although probably only a week of actual work – but we created a folding wooden Origami Dinghy from plans I ordered. After splashing that and seeing how much fun we had actually doing it, I moved into a higher gear. Would I really do this? Yes, I would. Now, what was it really going to be? I had some decisions to make.
THE BIG DECISION
I came up with some basic criteria that were practical and obtainable, and narrowed my choices. Taking off for great ocean voyages around the world wasn't in the cards. It would be U.S. river and coastal cruising, primarily in the Eastern part of the country. We would love to do the Great Loop. But for a while, I still need a day job – I work as a systems engineer for a law firm – in order to afford this stuff, so I'm limited to vacation periods and the like.
This made a trailerable craft much more desirable, something that would allow us to run up to a river and boat for a week or two at a time. Later, we can take it elsewhere at 55 mph and cruise a different stretch of river. A shallow draft became more and more advantageous as my cruising dreams change from oceans to inland rivers. A boat that you can load up and bring home also saves on docking fees. Living near Atlanta, there are few places to put a boat in the water, and I didn't want to pay to park a boat where I can't visit regularly and take care of it.
As I narrowed down my requirements, more and more of the design became clear. A trailerable boat must be 8 feet 6 inches or less in beam to be pulled without a permit. Keeping the length less than 30 feet makes it much easier to handle. I wanted sleeping space for 3, a head with shower and a reasonable amount of interior room to be able to stay out of the sun.
The budget boiled down to what could be absorbed. I hope to build the hull and cabin for less than $20,000. Various large components such as engine, generator and stove will be the biggest single expenses, because building materials are something I can spread out as I go. Costs associated with upkeep are much less with a trailerable boat, since I can bring it home when I'm not using it, saving on bottom paint and other maintenance.
A "yacht finish," although beautiful, is not in the cards for me. I will never have the patience to create woodwork like that. I want to build something more utilitarian – a "workboat finish," as it's called – that allows us to get out on the water. To be honest, my house – and probably yours too – is not finished nearly as nicely as many yachts. It's great if you can and want to do it, and I'll drool over the work. But I can live without it.
It is often said that building a boat is 30 percent hull and 70 percent "the rest," most of which are complicated systems. Electrical. Water. Sanitary. Fuel. Engine. Everything you take for granted in your house has to be created and hauled with you, or done without. These systems are part of what draws me to the challenge of building, but I have also come to realize that simplicity is something to strive for in a boat. I decided to pick a design with an eye toward basic systems that would let us get out on the water. For example, outboard power was high on my list. It is self contained and eliminates the need for through-hull cooling systems. If it fails, you can unbolt and replace it without disassembling your hull.
HULL DESIGN
One major decision I did not make until late was whether to embrace a displacement hull or one that planes. A hull that can exceed displacement speeds, especially the relatively low speeds obtained by a boat in this size range, would be very handy when running from weather or trying to get the most out of a short vacation. But I was also drawn to the slower, simpler and quieter world of displacement hulls.
All the research I had done resulted in a short list of plans, which I put up on a web page. This gave me thumbnail images and basic designs all in one place, and so I sought some input from my wife and son. They both promptly ruled out the very design I was considering seriously. Glad I asked! If we were not all happy with it, this building process would not work. Too many people have abandoned wives or boats during a build, and I do not intend for either to happen – another reason to keep things simple.
In terms of planing hulls, Tom Lathrop's BlueJacket 25.5 was high up on my list. The accommodations were good, if tight; it was a small, simple design; and several people I had spoken with liked it. But my family did not. I never did quite figure out why, but the concept wasn't going to fly.
Drawing by Mark Van AbbemaThe V28, designed by Mark Van Abbema, has not yet been built.
The Trailer Trawler 28, from Chesapeake Marine Design, and the V28 design, from Mark Van Abbema, were the two other finalists. We all liked the Trailer Trawler. It is a great looking little ship, with more interior room. But it is also a much more complex craft, with an inboard engine and much intricate cabin design. In the end, I made an executive decision to opt for the simpler plan, and my family agreed. The V28 it would be.
DECISION MADE
The V28 was designed as a trailerable version of Van Abbema's V39. With a 7-foot 6-inch beam, 28-foot LOA, 14-inch draft, and 4,000 pound displacement, it's a boat that should fit nicely behind a reasonable tow vehicle. Designed to be a simple boat, it is outboard powered and has only basic onboard systems. The boat is capable of taking an engine up to 50 HP, which the designer expects will yield a cruising speed of between 14 and 15 knots. I intend to install a hot water system and electrical power, via a Honda-style generator with batteries. Beyond that, things will be added as feasible.
The V39 is a proven hull with several afloat, and at least two have made Great Loop passages. The V28 is a new design, and none have been built yet. Van Abbema made several changes over the V39 – the biggest is the swap to a V hull – and I think it is a reasonable assumption that the boat will handle well.
Mark Van AbbemaThe V28 has a 28-foot LOA, a 7-foot 6-inch beam and draws 14 inches.
The V28 has some other aspects that drew our eye. It is a visual design that I like, much like an early 20th century "street car" launch. My wife considered it a nice cross between a tug boat and a Dutch Barge, both of which are looks we like. The interior is simple, with a straight walkway and fixtures that an amateur builder might reasonably complete. The windows open and you can dock or lock without climbing all over tiny side decks. In tossing questions back and forth, Van Abbema has been very helpful and accessible. Other's who have built from his plans tell me they have been well pleased.
One bonus was that the plans were cheaper than other designs. Of course, the cost of plans is a tiny fraction of the overall expenses, but this is going to be a boat built with extra funds in the household budget (if there is such a thing). Odd jobs, extra money, whatever. The plan is to pay as we go. In this mode, saving several hundred dollars makes a difference. That's quite a bit of lumber and epoxy.
Is this a perfect design? No. Will it be perfect for us? No. We know it has some limitations in space and layout that we will have to work with (a place for my son to sleep is one obvious item I have to work into the design, but we'll find somewhere to stick him). Still, I think it will be a usable, fun boat for us.
The long period of research – the one that felt like "no progress" – probably was for the best. It allowed me to evolve in my thinking, moving from a complex and expensive ocean-going trawler to a compact and more affordable trailerable boat. Had I jumped into the large, complex craft I initially thought I wanted, it would have been too much for a budding boat builder. I would not have had the resources or the fortitude to finish it. The V28 is a more realistic project, even if it is more of a stretch than I expect.
Mark Van AbbemaThe V28 may go 14 to 15 knots with a 50 HP engine.
And, of course, the challenges keep coming. For example, finding marine supplies in a land-locked city can be difficult. In the Internet age, most things can be ordered and shipped, but the cost of shipping can really eat your budget.
Could I research more, know more and make a better decision? Sure. But I'm not going to be a qualified marine architect anytime soon. If we wait for that, then we'll never have a boat (my son was 3 when I started, and now he is 7). I know I'll learn more, but I intend to be out there doing it when I do, whether that happens in the backyard building or in a lock on the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway. Either way, I expect to have fun.
Bruce Dillahunty will chronicle his project regularly in his blog on Mad Mariner (see link below), and on his own web site at www.craftacraft.com.