MESSING ABOUT IN BOATS
JOINING THE LIVING BOAT TRUST IN FRANKLIN, TASMANIA, GAVE ONE WOMAN NEW SKILLS AND EXPERIENCES AS WELL AS A SUPPORT NETWORK.
THERE’S SOMETHING QUITE SWEET AND DANDY going on in a little wooden boat shed in Franklin. When I moved to a house across the road from a charming waterfront shed on the foreshore of the Huon River, I was cajoled by enthusiastic locals to join The Living Boat Trust committee, which operates from inside it. And so I did, despite not knowing anything about boats.
It’s taken me a while to understand this complex community organisation, because The Living Boat Trust has many facets and means different things to different people. But at its heart is a group of wonderful people wearing holey woollen jumpers who love messing about in boats.
The Living Boat Trust (LBT) began back in the late 1990s when the Wooden Boat Centre, the neighbouring boat-building school, was churning out little timber dinghies, called grebes, built by local school kids. They couldn’t maintain this growing fleet, so the LBT was established to look after them.
There are now at least 20 wooden boats under the care of the LBT. “There’s a few in the collection now,” says long-time member Peter Laidlaw. “And people offer us boats all the time but we have to refuse them.” The fleet consists of historic boats deemed worthy of restoration, as well as newly built vessels that replicate or are inspired by classic designs. Maintaining this fleet keeps volunteers busy for several days a week, fixing and scraping in the shed.
Back in 2012, a handful of women saw the schoolkids having fun in the dinghies, so they got together and built a boat of their own to mess about in. They chose to build a St Ayles skiff, a design based on a traditional Scottish coastal rowing boat, because it’s easy to row, light and seaworthy. Named Imagine, the skiff was the first of its kind built in Australia. Now we have three skiffs and an impressive women’s rowing program.
Then there’s the darling Nancy. Built in 1917 in Hobart, she operated as a ferry on the Derwent and Huon rivers for almost 40 years. After becoming very dilapidated she was rescued, restored and donated to the LBT. With a quiet putt-putt motor, she gently glides though the glassy waters and a trip aboard is truly one of the best ways to experience the Huon River. >
A trip aboard is truly one of the best ways to experience the Huon River.
“That’s what people love about boat-building: you work in a team together and make something nice.”
On a Monday afternoon the shed is busy with locals improving their seamanship, learning knot-tying, fishing net-repairing or wood-carving, chiselling signs out of salvaged bits of Huon pine. From these workshops sprang the Monday Night Community Dinner, whose humble beginnings involved someone cooking up some snags to be eaten around a rickety old table. It’s now grown into a three-course dinner feeding up to 50 people. In summer, the trestles are set up outside and laughter echoes across the river late into the night. In winter, cosy meals are shared on a long table running down the centre of the shed, with diners squished between stowed sails, oars and lifejackets. For those who live alone and don’t cook much, it’s probably the only decent meal they get all week. The menu has evolved into hearty sailor’s fare such as honey mustard roast chicken and greens and stuffed apples with custard and ginger cream sauce, all washed down with mugs of mulled wine.
Apart from the social aspect, the LBT offers its members an opportunity to get on the water, as well as the chance to be part of something bigger. “That’s what people love about boat-building: you work in a team together and make something nice, which is a rarity for a lot of people. Whether it’s building something together or rowing a boat together, it’s a bit of a treat nowadays; a lost art,” says Peter.
“And the beauty of the LBT is that it allows people to pursue whatever aspect of boats they’re interested in. Whether it’s rowing with a regular team or those who never want to get on the water but are happy to play with boats all day long.”
After almost a year on the committee, I can now pronounce rowlock (rollick) and coxswain (coxun); I have a holey woollen jumper; and I know the difference between a Montagu Whaler and a Willy Tern.
And while I still don’t know much more about boats, I have discovered that the LBT has an enthusiastic generosity of spirit, and if they had a motto, it would be that there’s no such thing as a stupid question. I should know, as I ask plenty. This little wooden boat shed welcomes anyone and everyone, from adventurous sea dogs to timid landlubbers, social sailors to competitive rowers, who all share a common love of messing about in wooden boats. That’s what I’m there for, and it really is quite sweet and dandy.