Sam Llewellyn writes nautical thrillers and
edits The Marine Quarterly. He is currently
patching up a 30ft ketch
Flotsam and jetsamSam Llewellyn
Wood, blood
and profanities
What’s the best way to protect a wooden
boat? Alchemy, epoxy... or time-travel?
The use of powerful teak
cleaners make it look
lovely for about a week
AlamyI
n a dark corner of a shed in a
boatyard, daylight is gleaming in
something golden. A closer look
reveals a man with a matted beard.
He dunks the brush in his varnish
kettle, makes a stroke, works it in, then
lays it off at the accepted 45° angle of
brush to surface.
The result sucks in light and throws it
back at the viewer turned to gold. The
alchemist’s movement is swift but
controlled, like Zen archery. The varnish
stays on vertical surfaces as if it has been
nailed there, without sags or curtains.
Mention to the bearded one that varnish
is wood protection and he will look at you
as if you have magic-markered a
moustache on the Mona Lisa. As all real
varnishers understand, varnishing is a
sacrament, not a protection.
On the project boat, we are all about
protection. Desperate former owners have
thrown just about everything at it.
Archaeological sanding has revealed
layers of the following:- Varnish, traditional. This is all right,
and can be removed with a heat gun and
scraper, the only side effects being singed
eyebrows, small fl ash fi res along the
gunwale, and, in rain, electrocution. - Varnish, two-pot. This is easy to
manage in a perished condition, as it forms
whitish blisters, which
when levered up with
a chisel or Swiss Army
knife enable the user
to peel off enormous
strips of the stuff,
leaving behind isolated islands that can be
removed, sort of, with an orbital sander. - Epoxy. The Project Boat dates from a
time when the use of this magic gunk was
confi ned to space shuttles and similar,
and little was known about its behaviour in
the longish term. Early owners applied it
with an unstinting hand, admiring its
syrupy transparency. Time revealed that
ultraviolet light turns the stuff milky, and it
penetrates timber just deeply enough to
be unscrapable by normal means.
Another case for the orbital sander,
backed up by prayers directed at your not
having to remove so much timber that you
get down past the little plugs that mask
the screw heads.- Wood oils and wood sealers. There
was an era slightly after the discovery of
epoxy when these hell-slimes looked like
the answer to the yachtsperson’s prayer.
They sat on the wood, turning it a
charming gold, and needed (said the
blurb on the tin) only annual refreshment
to come up lovely once more. Over the
years, though, they turned a shade of
deep blackish brown with all the joie de
vivre of a post-funeral tea party in a
back-to-back due for demolition in one of
the smokier bits of Scunthorpe on a rainy
day in February. The only way to get them
off is to fl ood them with petrol, which
softens them, and then to attack them with
a cabinet scraper or a chisel held at 90° to
the working surface. Sanding is hopeless,
as the gunk clogs the paper instantly. So
is wire wool, as it leaves behind fl ecks of
iron, which turn black and give the whole
works an unpleasant poxed effect. The
best course, available perhaps at some
future date, is to build a time machine,
return to some year before the stuff came
on the market and persuade the inventor
to abandon his chemistry course and take
up lute playing instead. - Bare timber. If the timber is teak, it will
of course go a charming dove grey.
Subsequently the grain will rise, forming in
its interstices little troughs in which moss
and green algae will grow. This will lead
the owner to attempt cleansing with Patio
Magic, which works well. The habit of
treatment will almost certainly grow,
though, leading to the use of various
powerful and highly acidic teak cleaners,
which will make it look lovely for about a
week, after which it
will turn grey, and
subsequently green
(see above). - If it moves,
salute it. If it doesn’t
move, pick it up. If you can’t pick it up,
paint it; or so they say in the Navy. Nobody
can pick up a boat, and you would be an
idiot to salute one. That leaves paint.
Respect for the sacrament of varnish
has, however, stopped us painting the
project boat. We have fi nally got to bare
wood, using blood, toil, tears, sweat, etc.
On the wood we are putting 10 coats of
Epifanes Rapidclear, which is like varnish,
but easier. In time it will mank. But hey,
nobody lives forever. Onward!