‘Happy
Birthday’ and my present was a coracle making course at the Woodland Skills Centre in Bodfari, near Denbigh. Our tutor was James Mitchell and the coracle design
was the Boyne, as in the Irish river. Apparently the Welsh design, with cleft
ash, is a bit tricky for beginners, hence the Boyne, based on hazel rods or any
old withy.
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| James, always making things look easy |
We selected
our rods from several sheaves and tidied up their stems, removing knots and
small branches. Next we made a cross, measuring 5 by 4 feet, and inserted ribs
and runners; ribs along the sides and runners at either end. 8 rods or poles
went down the length of one side and another 8 along the other side with 6
poles at each end. A bar was used to sink a hole 8 inches deep, into which each
rod was secured.
Next came
the weaving of pairs of twisted rods threading through the 28 rods planted into
the ground and after two circuits of twisted pairs, then the seat was prepared.
An adze was used to finish the surface of the seat giving a rustic look as
distinct from the teeth of a chainsaw. Nicks were sawn and chopped at either
end to fit the seat snugly between the middle 2 rods at either side resting on
the twisted rods. Then a further 2 pairs of twisted rods secured the seat and
poles into a rigid position.
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| Bending those rods |
Next came
the tricky bit of bending the rods to meet their counterparts at the other side
or end. The motion was a pull and a push with the occasional twist and bending
over the knee. There were many ominous cracks and sometimes the rods would snap
and need to be replaced. Sometimes they would split, which James referred to as
‘de-laminating’, with 1 or 2 years of
outer growth separating from the rod. We were advised to stick to narrow rods
of less than an inch thick; the thicker they were, the harder it was to bend
them. Shaving some layers on the inner side of the proposed bend helped to make
the bending process a bit easier.
At the start
of day two we finished off the bending and trimmed the narrow ends of rods to
squeeze through the weave. It looked very ungainly and impossible for the runners
to neatly lash into the ribs, but they did. James demonstrated the ‘square truss’, an elaborate way of
lashing a rib to a runner, and then I had another 47 to do. Getting a slip knot
effect was an efficient way to leave both hands free and, with one and sometimes
two feet on the runners, the runners were forced down to touch the ribs and secured
with sisal, a length of about 2 metres per knot.
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| Upside down basket or coracle growing out of the ground |
Tying seemed
to go on forever and then it was time to insert the Spanish windlass, a double
thickness of sisal with a rod twisted in the middle, just to keep the tension
between the sides beneath the seat.
After this we
needed to lever the coracle from out of the clutches of the 28 rods sunk 8”
into the sandy ground. Slowly the coracle rose out of the ground, like an
awaking armadillo, and then the weave was tamped down. Unnecessary and sticky-out
bits were pruned out including the bottoms of the rods. Any sharp notches or
blemishes were smoothed and then the coracle was set on top of a length of
canvas.
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| Norman the seamstress |
We were instructed
in how to sew with an upholstery C shaped needle; the sort used by Victorian
surgeons. A series of 1 foot chunks were sewn at the top, then bottom then both
sides, the four corners and then we filled in all the gaps; all the while
pulling the canvas tight. Then the coracle was lifted onto a table, upside
down, ready for bitumen. The first coat was thinned and went on easily; I say
this because I was at home enjoying a beer and some supper while James our diligent
tutor was painting into the solstice dusk.
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| Paul applying bitumen |
On the start
of day 3 we turned the coracles right side up and painted the rim. Then we turned
them upside down once more on top of tables and applied a thick dollop of bitumen.
You think you’re doing a thorough job until you look from beneath and see all
the ‘stars’ which will leak water. For this stage you needed to team up with a
fellow student; the ‘star gazer’ would lie on his or her back beneath the
coracle pressing a stick at any stars or constellations whilst an extra dollop
was applied to block the light. The freshly painted hulls were left gleaming in
the sun whilst we went into the shed to make our paddles.
A stout
hazel rod with a bend was inserted into a shaving horse and with a draw knife I
made a smooth and level end onto which a paddle-shaped piece of marine ply
could be affixed. A crude handle was
affixed to the top end and linseed oil applied to the paddle blade.
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| Coco sculling |
After lunch
we headed off to a lake and James instructed us in the 3 essential skills;
getting in, getting out and sculling. Sculling was nothing like those narrow
rowing boats with sliding seats and a pair of oars, it was more like sticking a
food mixer into the water in front of you and wiggling it around in a figure of
eight. It took a while to get going but once moving, the sculling motion
propelled you along quite smoothly. A single stroke with the paddle down the
side had the effect of setting off a spinning wheel.
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