Creativity aboard
Not only am I one of seemingly few women sheddies, but I am possibly one of the only contributors who does not actually own a shed!
I have lived on and off a sailing yacht for more than 10 years, cruising the Pacific, Atlantic, Mediterranean, and Caribbean. Wonderful Whangarei is my home port, and the global Covid pandemic has kept me here — perfectly happily — for longer than I might usually stay, giving me the opportunity to build my first boat in a shed nearby.
I am happiest when I have a project and have good skills across a number of disciplines, from dressmaking and sewing to concrete work, carpentry, and all manner of building work. Not only am I practical, but I am creative and have a bent for decorative arts and design. I have had great fun, for example, creating extravagant stencil designs for walls that I have plastered, and tiling the bath that I have built — using swimming pool technology — with a mother of pearl and coconut mosaic.
Living on a boat often means living with quite strict limitations. What is relevant when it comes to project-making is that I have limited space, not only for working in, and making a mess or noise, but also for storage of tools and materials. Power is not on tap, either.
Even with such limitations, the shed mentality is unquenchable. The practical projects that have been easier to realise whilst living aboard have involved a lot of sewing with a light industrial Sailrite machine — upholstery, sails, and canvas work — as well as lighter sewing with a domestic machine. It was great to spread out and make some mess with tools and materials when I built Punga, but I dream of the day when I will have my own workspace again, and be able to get creative with my own resources around me and no distractions.
After living with an inflatable up front for so long, I was looking forward to much better visibility forward when underway. The plans were US$80 — sent electronically from the US — and included plenty of details and instructions, which broadly formed the outline of what I did. I was able to sneak in a couple of “Help!” emails to the designers — for instance, when it came to the lack of availability of the recommended size of aluminium in New Zealand for the mast, or other technical questions.
A stitch and glue design
Like many small boats — and some bigger boats — built by amateurs today, Punga is a stitch and glue design. Stitch and glue is an accessible technique that usually uses plywood and epoxy for making simple
projects, which have the potential to be of the same high quality and as practical and durable as any boat around. The cut panels are drilled with small holes along the joining edges and are drawn together using wire or cable ties, which hold them until they are secured with epoxy, after which the ‘stitches’ are removed. It is conceptually simple, comes together to make a boat quickly, and is fun to put together this way.
The mast is made of three aluminium tubes that slide inside one another, stopping at a fibreglass collar I added.
Alongside the tapered, rectangular cross-section, wooden boom and its pair of two-metre oars, the mast sections are stored vertically on the back of our yacht, strapped onto stainless uprights that carry our wind generator and radar, and held in self-draining bags made from old scraps of canvas. Punga also has a simple, reefing sail that I sewed to the spec of the suggested design and is certainly sporty enough to be used for racing.