I first caught sight of the Robert and Arieta – named for my grandparents on my father’s side – as it was taking up the width of the road on its way to the slip at the launch site.

Tim had the Robert and Arieta built to fish his crab and lobster quotas off the coast of Nova Scotia. He hired Carmarc Boatbuilders, a small shop in Argyle to build it. As the ship progressed at a snail’s pace toward its goal, electrical workers held up wires with long fiberglass poles so the high load could slip underneath, each time stalling its progress. Tree branches snapped overhead.

A husky, powerful ship, I could tell this beast was going to be a stable workhouse out on the water. So sturdy and wide was it that the truck driver had a very hard time turning in the tight spaces around the crowded wharf area. Faced with an impossible turn that threatened to roll the tires off the rims, someone came up with an ingenious solution to get the flatbed turned stern-to the slip. Four sheets of plywood were fetched. A pair was placed beneath each side of the flatbed in front of the weight-bearing wheels. Grease was smeared between the two sets of sheets to lubricate them. The truck eased forward so the wheels were on the two pairs of plywood. In this way, the wheels could pivot on the spot. It worked, but the operation took us ever closer to low tide.

At nine meters (30 ft) wide and 15 meters (50 ft) long, the boat looks more like a raft from behind. It has what’s called a Goreham hull. The broad stern is essential for the safe, efficient hauling and setting of fishing gear like strings of lobster traps. The truck transporting it seemed at times not quite up to the task. Twice, hoses broke, dumping brightly coloured fluid on the ground, and twice the operation was stalled for repairs, the tide dropping all the time.

Many members of my large, extended family showed up to watch and celebrate. Aunts, uncles, cousins lined up in cars behind the boat for the slow ride to the slip and then waited anxiously on the wharf as the tide continued to drop. Tim’s wife Paula and some of his five kids came to help.

Will she float? That was the question we were all asking ourselves and each other, so low was the tide by the time she was finally lowered into the water. There was a real danger the ship would bottom out. It seemed no matter how far the flatbed backed into the water, the ship would not rise off its supports. Finally, with a little encouragement, the ship slipped from the support arms and floated on its own.

The whole operation took so long and the final stages were so anxious, Tim and Paula had no opportunity to smash the customary bottle of champagne on the bow. Instead, they broke it over the stern. The compromise didn’t seem to bother anyone – the Robert and Arieta was sailing at last.

Taking her place among the finest fishing vessels in the harbour, the Robert and Arieta’s built-in chilled water system will enable her to carry up to 60,000 pounds of king crab back from the fishing grounds up to 150 kilometres offshore. Tim painted “Big Chill” on the side of the wheelhouse as a nod to this ship’s capacity to bring home the bacon. That kind of range won’t be a problem for the Robert and Arieta with four tanks that hold up to 4000 gallons of fuel.

Like a proud father, Tim shows us around the Robert and Arieta, each of us thinking about the Grand Poo Ba, as we called him, my Granddad Bob and his wife Arieta, parents to ten, grandparents to who knows how many. We all knew they’d puff with pride at the sight.

The Robert and Arieta hit the fishing grounds for the first time in the last week of November for the start of the 2014-15 lobster season. Wishing her safety and prosperity.

Photo Credits

All photos by Darcy Rhyno – All Rights Reserved

I sail to uninhabited and often forgotten places in the world to live and be free. I quite literally just “swing in the breeze” and “go with the flow.” I’ve filled up two passports, and have experienced heavy doses of culture all around the globe. No day is the same, and monotony is not on the menu. However, it’s not all fair winds and distant shores. I’ve given up many things to live the life that I do. Often I tell people of my lifestyle and hear, “Wow, I would love to do that.” But would they? Would you?

It’s a new trend to break free from the house, mortgage, and career to go sailing around the world. More and more people are choosing that lifestyle. It’s an exhilarating feeling to just put yourself out there in the world and see what comes, but not everybody is ready for that. I meet many sailors who just dream of being back ashore. They want a proper home again, proper hot water, an air conditioner, and a dog. They want to see their family, and be home for the holidays. They want a place where everybody knows their name, somewhere comforting and safe. Who could blame them?

My boat, which is my home, doesn’t have the same comforts of a modern house. It’s cramped by comparison. I don’t see family for the holidays very often, and worst of all, I love dogs but can’t have one! But let me tell you, it’s all worth it. I immerse myself in strange and different cultures. I meet new friends everywhere I go, and I have learned to live without all the modern conveniences that I would otherwise take for granted ashore. Not having “scruffy” and missing a few New Year’s parties is well worth the epic adventures that I have allowed myself to experience.

Could you do it to? Sure, there are plenty of people doing it. The internet is littered with guides, and bookstores are filled with books on the topic. Breaking free of a shore-based lifestyle is one of the most liberating feelings in the world, but make sure you’ll feel liberated and not impoverished. You don’t want to miss out on the best parts of you voyage because of being so focused on the things you’re giving up.

I would encourage anyone thinking about sailing away to do more than just learn how to sail. Take a deep look inside and ask yourself if it’s what you really want. If the answer is “yes, let’s go!” then by all means get out there! Mark Twain put it so beautifully, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

I’d be happy to answer any questions about the sailing lifestyle. Feel free to leave a comment or contact me any time.

Photo Credits

Photos By Rob Lehmann – All Rights Reserved

Guest Author Bio

Rob Lehmann
A sailor, an adventurer, and sometimes an author. Rob’s career, passion, and topics all revolve around the sea. Rob keeps a blog at SailorRob.com to document all of his adventures, misfortunes, and rants for the world.

The sea is always calling, and he is first in line to answer the call.

Blog / Website: http://www.sailorrob.com

Follow Rob On: Twitter | Facebook

By far the most common and popular sailboat rig is the sloop. Some of the other more popular options include the ketch, yawl, and schooner. For the purpose of this article the ketch, yawl and schooner can all be considered the same. They offer very similar advantages and disadvantages. Granted, there are quite a few subtle differences in them but they all share common traits that everyone considers when deciding on one of them versus a sloop.

The thing that ketches, yawls and schooners all have in common is multiple masts which carry a larger number of smaller sails to make up their sail area. The advantage of having more, smaller, sails is that they are easier to handle (due to being smaller and lighter) and they can be flown in multiple configurations that suit the particular wind speed and direction. The disadvantage is that you need more sails, additional rigging and your constantly trimming and reefing more sails than you would with a sloop.

A sloop has two basic sails; a mainsail and a headsail. There are additional sails such as spinnakers and other specialty sails but you can sail a sloop just fine with only two sails. The fact that a sloop has less sails to trim or reef, less rigging and is so easy to sail makes it so popular. Over the years sloops have steadily become more popular and every other rig has become less popular. Their growing popularity is due in large part to sails being made of lighter, stronger materials, better sail handling equipment (winches and halyards) and stronger masts and booms. The most significant of all though has been the improved reliability and universal acceptance of roller furling for headsails, and increasingly for mainsails. Roller furling sails makes sailing much easier and safer and allows one person to easily handle large sails.

Roller furling along with sail improvements mean the sloop is far and away the most popular sailboat and has become very easy to sail even shorthanded. Unless you have an affinity for tradition, a sloop should be at the top of the list if you want to buy a boat and go cruising.

Photo Credits

Sloop Rig Exile – Jeff Johnstone – Wikimedia

Sailing Thumbnail – Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection

Sailing is a great time waster. In years past, I would disappear for days only to wash up in some Great Lake port hundreds of miles from home. Now, I often waste entire mornings on Skype talking with my old buddy Bobby Lush in Montreal about sailing.

Bob and I worked together when I edited a national yachting magazine and he was one of the first guys I encountered whose eyes lit up with that blue-zeal light. Bob has single-handed back and forth across the Atlantic since the mid-seventies and Shelagh MacKenzie featured him in the 1982 National Film Board of Canada film Singlehanders.

We stay in touch over the America’s Cup and yak about other events taking place far out to sea and far beyond the ken of the common herd.

On the other hand Derek and I don’t talk that much. He’s too busy; still he’s an incredible guy. Actually a hero of mine, but I won’t tell him that to his face. We stay in touch through the press releases his wife Patianne and others send out.

The latest though came from the race committee of the Velux 5 Oceans Race and describes Derek learning emergency medicine by sewing pig’s knuckles together to make sure he’s ready for the big race.

Derek is also an offshore, around the world, single-hander – in other words a real blowed-in-the-glass sailorman.

Derek recently arrived in La Rochelle, France, with his boat Active House. Active House is a recycled sixty-foot, Eco 60 racing yacht named for his sponsor.

The Eco 60 is built for sailing downwind (with the wind behind it) following the route of the old clipper ships. It is long, narrow, flat-bottomed and ultra lightweight – blistering fast.

Ocean racing uses these boats because the newest represent state-of-the-art technology. The difference is that the boats used in the Velux 5 Oceans are second hand. They have to have been built before Jan. 2003.

This makes the boats affordable and gives the million-dollar plus boats a second life and keeps them out of the junkyards. They are also not the kind of used boat you buy for Sunday cruising on English Bay.

Unlike athletes in mainstream sports, these sailormen (also factor women into the general taxonomy) on the fringes are more interesting and adventurous, but need more help. Ergo the sponsor.

The 5 Oceans race is named for the five oceans the racers will have to cross to win – North Atlantic, South Atlantic, Indian, Pacific, and Southern Oceans. In crossing these alone, competitors will sail somewhere around 30,000 miles and unlike golfers, can’t bail because of the weather.

Okay, what makes a man nuts enough to head down to a place where the only things he has for companionship are icebergs and penguins? It sure ain’t the North American fame factor.

The Europeans love sailing and view pro sailors in the same light we reserve for football and basketball players.

I once asked Derek what made him do it and his answer was his love of competition.

Nice cliché Derek. Right up there with the great cliché lesson in the movie Bull Durham. You’ve got to say those kinds of things when your biggest challenge is not a 40-foot wave, but hunting the money to send you scooting down the face of that wave.

Perhaps closer to the truth is the story about taking his family to Macdonald’s in Paris, being recognized and having to sign autographs. I suspect he really enjoyed that. Dorothy Gale knew her heart’s delight was at home with dear old Aunty Em in Kansas, but once Derek slips his line, he ain’t I Kansas anymore and he has to leave the comfort of home to find his heart’s desire. Whatever that may be.

Derek raced Active House in the Velux 5 Oceans Race which began October 17th , and over the course of report on his progress here at Life As A Human I will try to answer the question – what makes him do it?

Photo Credits

All photos @ World Wide Image Inc. except for “Derek Hatfield and His Children in France” Copyright 2010 © Ainhoa Sanchez

An overcast day in May, it seemed like an ideal opportunity for Don and his brother-in-law Glenn to try their luck fishing in Lake Egmont, one of many bodies of fresh water in Nova Scotia known to contain a trout or two.

Arriving lakeside, Don and Glenn eased their canoe off the top of the truck, loaded on their tackle and pushed off into the shallows. Water dripped from their paddles, dimpling the waters of the cove. With the wind to their backs the two fishermen made good time, guiding their craft through the reedy shoreline to the deeper waters. The sky was an ominous gunmetal gray, with low cloud cover. After several casts into a promising spot, Glenn’s line became entangled in a wicked backlash due to the increasing wind. As well a chop had developed on the water and the two fishermen decided a return to shore was the safest route to follow.

Turning their craft proved more difficult than anticipated, something many a boater with a tailwind has experienced. Suddenly, a freak crosswind caught both paddlers unaware. Their craft quickly flipped over, jettisoning both men into the chilly waters.

After a moment of disorientation, both Don and Glenn floated to the surface. Their first thoughts were to check and see if the other was okay. “Take off your boots, Don!” Glenn shouted. Don was surprised at his brother-in-law’s apparent coolness. Glenn was an extremely poor swimmer and often tended to be excitable, yet somehow the emergency had brought out hidden resources in the young man. Don had doubts as well as to his own ability to swim any distance because of chronic problems with degenerative arthritis in his shoulder and hip.

After grabbing onto the capsized canoe and catching their breath, a short and intense discussion followed. The two men decided to attempt to right the canoe, but this proved fruitless. They realized that attempting to free-swim back to shore would be very dangerous in rough waters and elected to remain with their overturned canoe, which provided at least some flotation. The next important decision to make was whether to head back to where they came from or to try for the opposite shore of the lake.

While making for the opposite shore would give them the advantage of the wind, the heavily wooded uninhabited coastline looked uninviting. Glenn and Don decided instead to head back towards the nearer side, the one where their vehicle was parked. Clinging to the canoe, both men attempted to make progress against the stiff wind and the heavy chop. Cold waves kept unexpectedly hitting both men in the face, causing them to choke and gasp. The pair was making little headway despite considerable time and effort.

Both fishermen fell momentarily silent. “I don’t think I’m going to make it, Don,” croaked Glenn, his voice punctuated by the steady lop-lop of the waves. The chilly waters of the lake were rapidly affecting Glenn’s limbs, which had been badly frostbitten in the past. Keeping a grip was becoming more and more difficult and he often had to catch himself from sliding off the slippery hull of the overturned canoe.

Surprisingly Don’s own arthritic limbs were causing no problem whatsoever. “Of course you’ll make it,” shouted Don angrily. “Keep swimming!”

As Don floated, his mind wandered. He began to imagine the lake as a large abyss over which he floated, a thought he found very frightening. Visions of his body drifting slowly to the lake bottom haunted him. Hope seemed to fade as he lost the feeling in his legs, an icy numbness rising into his body. Thoughts of his wife and son and how they would miss him also bothered him. Graphic images of his bloated corpse rising from the bottom of the lake after several weeks spurred a sudden burst of anger, prompting renewed efforts.

“Come on Glenn, keep moving,” shouted Don again. More time passed. Don noticed several seagulls circling above. Somewhat later several ducks flew overhead. He envied them. Time seemed distorted. It became very difficult to judge the distance of the shoreline as well and chances of survival seemed dimmer as each minute passed.

Suddenly a cyclist’s white helmet came into view and hope flared in both men. Don and Glenn began shouting to the point of hoarseness and were dismayed at how little the sound of their voices seemed to project. The cyclist did stop and seemed to be shouting something to the two men. He then remounted his bicycle and sped off. After what seemed like an eternity, Don began to have the irrational thought that perhaps the cyclist merely thought they were out swimming and that he would change his mind and not go for help. Somewhat later a truck pulled out from a nearby side road but it turned and went back in the other direction.

Despair started to replace hope. Don began to think his brother-in-law was right, they weren’t going to make it. Then another truck appeared, stopped by the fishermen’s vehicle. Its occupant walked to the shoreline and waved his arms. “A boat is coming,” it sounded like he was saying. “Oh God,” thought Don, “don’t let it be too late.”

“Don, I can’t hold on any longer,” yelled Glenn, as he began to slide off the opposite side of the canoe. Don grabbed frantically for his fishing buddy, clasping his numbed hands and squeezing tightly. A second vehicle appeared and a boat put out from shore, paddling agonizingly slowly towards the capsized canoe.

By now, their bodies deeply chilled, things became dim for both men. Don recalled the sight of callused hands reaching to pull him into the boat. “Those were the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen!” Thinking he would be able to stand up and help assist his brother-in-law, Don was surprised to find his limbs would not obey him and he lay helplessly, shivering, as Glenn was hauled into the rescue boat. Two RCMP cars arrived on the scene as well as a helicopter from the nearby Shubenacadie Fire Station.

Don remembered feeling very guilty that these emergency vehicles were being diverted on their behalf, when they might be needed for “real” emergencies. Each man was bundled into a separate Mountie vehicle where the heat was turned up full blast.

“I felt awful when I saw the police officer sweltering next to me in his heavy coat,” Don said. An ambulance then arrived on the scene. Paramedics assessed the situation and took the two victims’ vital signs. Intravenous fluids were started on both men and they were packed in warm blankets before being transferred to the Victoria General Hospital’s emergency room in nearby Halifax.

Recalls Don, “I knew my surroundings were warm but I felt a deadly icy cold within.” This was only natural with the drop in his core body temperature. Total immersion time in the frigid waters was about two hours and it is questionable how much longer the two men could have survived without help.

It was extremely good fortune that a bicyclist had driven by on such a cold and windy day and heard the Don and Glenn’s cries for help. It is doubtful that anyone in a motor vehicle would have heard their faint cries over engine noise and the outcome of the afternoon’s fishing expedition would have been tragically different.

For Don, the whole incident seems more like a vividly remembered nightmare than reality. From time to time thoughts of his near death do come back to haunt him, a stark reminder of our own fragile mortality.

“Swamped” first appeared in Family Practice.

Photo Credit

“Sunken Canoe“

The Rapids Thumbnail – Creative Commons/Some Rights Reserved – David Quick

Our vessel is a barquentine, a three-master with a square rig on the foremast and a fore-and-aft (or schooner) rig on the mainmast and mizzenmast. Vessels like this would once have been a common sight around Bonne Bay and the Bay of Islands, our nautical playground for one week in late July. The shoreline here is dotted with picturesque little outports, fishing communities that have lately opened their doors to tourists.

The Concordia was plying the waters in and around Gros Morne Park, utilizing a crew of sixteen with sixteen passengers aboard. We embarked from the dock at Norris Point, a small community within the park boundaries, and day one found us cruising through the Bay of Islands down to Cox’s Cove, a small community whose shores are dotted with colorful fishing dories. The weather was wet, but regardless that evening some of us elected to walk through the town or use the vessels thirty-speed bikes. Others kayaked and I took a Zodiac ride with an amiable Scottish crew member named David. Speeding off to Penguin Cove the driving rain soon made me glad of my rain suit. We passed small clusters of deserted houses, once year-round communities that had been re-settled back in the forties and fifties, as well as daunting cliffs and picturesque waterfalls. Things got rougher on our return and as the spray and rain whipped my face and we bounced over the waves I had a nostalgic flashback to my childhood, spent in Bonavista Bay, Newfoundland. David apologized for the chop and I laughed, loving it.

The next morning we sailed to Goose Arm and into sunshine. The afternoon cleared to a balmy shorts weather as we cruised through sparkling waters. The crew allowed the passengers to help as they climbed the masts to loosen the sails, and manning the lines we hoisted the course, upper and lower topsail and the topgallant, leaving the topmost sail of the square rig furled.

The crew seemed about an equal mix of ladies and gents, and the Bosun, who is in charge of the sails, was a young French Canadian woman named Madeleine. She and Terri, another young woman from British Columbia, scrambled up and down the rigging like they’d been born to it. I wondered what mariners of centuries past would have made of this.

As we sailed past a huge scree-strewn slope past the narrows of Goose Arm, we spotted a pair of low mountains looking rather like a female bosom. An American from New Hampshire promptly dubbed them the “Grand Tetons”. At anchor we sat and enjoyed the sun, sipped Chardonnay and conversed in idyllic surroundings as our chef, another Terri, prepared a gourmet supper. I was just going to say, “It doesn’t get any better than this,” when another passenger beat me to it. But it did.

Gentle waves lulled us to sleep that night and early morning found us bound for Lark Harbour. Another picturesque fishing village, we arrived just in time to see the cod boats arriving. Though the catches are curtailed the inshore areas still have enough fish to support a small fishery. A good thing too, because dinner that night was fresh pan-fried cod. The legendary Newfie hospitality was confirmed when retired local gent, David Wells, offered to drive me around town and gave me a personalized tour. “Would you be likin’ a drive to Corner Brook, ‘by?” he asked. Corner Brook is a forty five-minute drive away! He’d have been insulted if I’d offered him money but I got his address and promised to send him some photos of our vessel.

At Lark Harbour I chose to hike to Bottle Cove, a sheltered cove dominated by huge cliffs and a sea cave, which can be visited at low tide. We traversed woods full of colorful wildflowers and mushrooms and passed tuckamore, dense stands of weathered trees, a few feet tall but often a hundred years old or more. These are nature’s bonsai sculpted not by human hands, but by blasting winds, freezing winters and rocky soil. We emerged on a cliff overlooking the cove, marked by a monument to Captain Cook, who landed here in the mid 1700s.

That evening passengers and crew enjoyed local entertainment at Maureen’s, a hybrid café and pub. I told the owner that I practice medicine in Nova Scotia and she asked if I knew a local boy, Bill Harvey, who grew up in Lark Harbour. As a matter of fact I did. He works about thirty feet up the hall from me at our clinic in Elmsdale. She told me about some of my colleague’s childhood escapades, which will go unrecorded.

Early the next morning we set sail for Woody Point. This little community has preserved many of the traditional fisherman’s homes, and the hundred-year-old Orange Hall has been transformed into a theater. Some of the Catholic entertainers opined that their ancestors would roll over in their graves if they knew that they’d set foot in an Orange Hall. The Protestant organization was very active in Newfoundland and even until fairly recent times a vigorous Catholic-Protestant rivalry existed on the island.

Near to our dock, the Discovery Centre at Woody Point provides an overview of Gros Morne Park, with interesting displays of maps, photos and local art and artifacts. The center acts as a gateway to the Table Lands, a barren, flat orange mountain unique in the world, which we hiked that afternoon. The tortured terrain looks like the surface of Mars but actually comes from inner space. One of the main reasons Gros Morne Park is designated a World Heritage Site is that the Table Lands are unique. They are composed of peridotite, which is normally found only miles deep within the earth. Half a billion years ago, it is theorized that when continental plates collided, instead of the mantle being thrust down as almost always happens, it was pushed skyward. Considered to be the best geologic evidence for the theory of continental drift, our park guide, Chris, told us that this site is a geologist’s Holy Grail. She should know as she is a geologist, as well as an artist. The Table Lands have a unique orange hue due to rusting of the high ferrous content of the rock. If you break a piece of stone, however, it is green with a weblike network of white veins. The heavy metal content makes the stone toxic to most plants and hence little grows, adding to the extraterrestrial appearance of the area.

After hiking the Table Lands we headed back to Woody Point, boarded Concordia and hoisted sail for Man o’ War Cove. We were hardly the first to moor here, with luminaries such as Jacques Cartier and Captain Cook having dropped anchor in this, one of the best anchorages in western Newfoundland. We were not alone as a small sloop had also chosen to overnight in the cove. Our evening’s entertainment, a talented saxophone player, not only elicited applause from our vessel but from our neighbor as well.

The morning dawned a glassy calm and we hoisted the anchor and set course once more for Norris Point. From here we took the Zodiac rafts to the start of a hiking trail to Gros Morne Mountain. Named by the French, Gros Morne means, prosaically, “big hill”. Indeed it is, as we found when we hiked to its base. The weather was sunny and hot but fellow passenger Todd and I made it to our destination rather sooner than the others and continued about a third of the way up the steep slopes. Stunning views of Bonne Bay rewarded our climb. This true fjord offers not only great scenery but is a gold mine for marine biologists researching Arctic waters. Meters below the surface the water temperature plunges to minus one Celsius, even though the fresher surface waters are often a balmy 20 degrees Celsius. Although not truly in the Arctic the marine life forms are identical and much easier to access.

After a challenging day hiking we anchored and supped on more of Terri’s culinary wizardry, a butter tender prime rib washed down with a full bodied Aussie Shiraz. Afterwards, most relaxed on deck to watch the sunset of our final evening aboard Concordia. Mother Nature must have been smiling on us, for a magnificent sunset lit up the orange colored Table Lands in the distance as if they were afire. To complement this a full rainbow appeared, and minke whales frolicked in the waves, a fitting ending to a truly idyllic voyage.

There’s a lot more to do around Gros Morne after the cruise ends. Highly recommended is a hike into the stunning Western Brook Pond, a fjord that has now become a landlocked lake. Many have seen its image, with a hiker in the foreground, arms spread, in promotional material for the province. Don’t miss taking a boat trip down the length of the “pond”. Further up the coast visitors can tour the only known Viking settlement in North America at L’Anse-aux-Meadows, and physicians will enjoy a tour of the famed Grenfell Mission in St. Anthony. The more adventurous may even want to take the ferry over to Labrador and check out its historic Basque settlement at Red Bay or dip a line in her storied salmon rivers.

If you go…

Department of Tourism

Government of Newfoundland and Labrador

PO Box 8700, St. John’s

NF A1B 4J6

Tel. 709-729-5251

Fax 709-729-0057

www.gov.nl.ca/tourism

Photo Credits

“Cow Moose in Rocky Harbour” © George Burden

“In the Rigging” © George Burden

“The Concordia in Dock” © George Burden

“Newfy Skipper with Cod” © George Burden

“Old Fashioned Lobster Traps” © George Burden

As a consequence, in the cluttered shed behind this modest seven-metre flat bottomed boat, Robert Ayliffe sits amid a flurry of boat plans and papers, taking an increasing trickle of orders from around the world for kits to construct the very same type of boat.

Robert is acknowledged as a world expert in Norwalk Island Sharpies, an American working boat that has been redesigned as a pleasure sailing craft. Robert describes his role as being like an architect positioned between the builder and the owner.

He tweaks the original plan from American designer Bruce Kirby, facilitates the kits — which can be sent overseas three weeks after being ordered — and remains in contact with individual builders to help them through troubles, which in turn helps Robert learn how to keep improving the kit instructions. He is even building a boat for one client with the intention of photographing each step to create a book that can be used as a step-by-step illustrated building manual.

This small wooden craft, assembled without screws or nails, has a reputation for durability, safety and reliability in all waters. And, after 20 years working with Sharpies, Robert decided to put to the first boat he built to the ultimate test by sailing with navigator Ian Phillips across the dreaded Bass Strait, between Victoria and Tasmania.

“I can’t say there wasn’t moments of fear attached to what we were doing, though we were absolutely safe every step of the way,” says 62-year-old Robert.

“The purpose was to show just how good these boats are; we certainly didn’t intend to run it through four storms, but that just proved our point. Until now, it was theoretically durable and safe in all waters; now its reputation is confirmed.”

The crossing became the talk of the Hobart docks during the festival, crowded with wooden boat enthusiasts from around the world. It pulled sharp focus onto Robert’s kit boat business located far from any significant body of sailing water. “Yep, in Mt Barker,” he says with a grin and a disbelieving shake of the head. “Anything’s possible if you persevere long enough.”

Robert was smitten by the sea as a teenager growing up on Kangaroo Island in South Australia, diving for abalone in school holidays with island ferry pioneer Peter March off the treacherous south coast.

He went into a long career of teaching, but finally turned a lifelong maritime passion into an occupation 21 years ago when he left his job at Mt Barker High School (teaching English and art, and building boats after school with a few students) and started the Duck Flat wooden boat building company. Four years ago he left that partnership to concentrate on several specific kit designs, rather than deal with the minutia of manufacturing. And the staple of his interest is the Norwalk Island Sharpies.

“There’s something primal about the appeal of a wooden boat,” Robert says. “It draws a degree of awe from people. At a boat festival they have to touch it, knock it, to inspect whether it’s well made. It’s the craft that piques their interest.”

An erudite man, Robert considers his link in the continuum of wooden boat building with deep contemplation, quoting John Steinbeck and offering biblical references to illustrate his respect for the history of the craft. It’s no surprise that he is also a columnist for the United States-based Wooden Boat magazine and other specialist nautical publications.

Ironically, it was writing an article about Sharpies in 1987 that started his incredible boat-building journey, putting him in touch with plan designer Bruce Kirby and firing his interest in making Sharpie kits for home builders.

“If it wasn’t for the magazines, I wouldn’t have the international profile that has allowed me to gain access to all this,” says Robert. “And if it wasn’t for the Internet, I wouldn’t have an international business that I can run out of a shed in Mt Barker.”

A landmark achievement occurred in 1999, when a wealthy New York neighbour of Bruce Kirby purchased a Sharpie kit from Robert. This family were foundation members of the New York Yacht Club, and invited Robert to New York for the launch ceremony, where Kirby announced that Robert’s kit produced the best of 300 Sharpies that had been built from his design. Subsequently, Robert forged a strong friendship with Kirby and has now been trusted to build the Sharpie component of Kirby’s business.

Several notable South Australians have also lent their weight of support to Robert’s endeavor. Winemaker Robert O’Callaghan, proprietor of Rockford Winery in the Barossa and owner of the Murray River paddle steamer PS Marion, was an early acolyte.

“He thought the craft in what I was doing was worthwhile. He gave me an invaluable piece of advice; he said operating a small business is like peddling a bicycle, and if you stop peddling you’ll lose balance and fall. So I keep peddling.”

Other winemakers also took a keen interest, notably Doug Lehmann and Bob McLean. Robert reflects on this as being “a very South Australian thing,” to attract unexpected supporters for small but worthy pursuits.

“When we went to the early boat shows, we were called cockroaches by the big manufacturers,” remembers Robert. “That’s OK; cockroaches survive atomic blasts. Most of those manufacturers are now gone. We’re still thriving.”

There are now more than 50 completed boats from Nisboats kits in the water, with another 20 in various stages of building, and order inquiries increasing. As demand escalates, Robert is obtaining assistance from a wider collection of disparate artisan craftsman through South Australia to construct components for the kits.

It signifies the type of crucial cooperation required between small South Australian specialists to be competitive — and recognized as leaders — on a world stage.

“It’ll never be mass-produced,” says Robert of the Sharpie design. “The hull would lose its durability and strength if it was made from fibreglass. Modern plywood is far superior — and made from trees in renewable forests. Nope, these wooden boats are for a discerning clientele. Perhaps what I love about them the most is that they can be built by anyone; ordinary people with the right desire can build a truly extraordinary boat.”

As a high school teacher for more than 20 years, Robert had a telling effect on shaping the future direction of many students’ lives; now, by chasing his passion to build boats, he is applying the same conviction to steer his own course. “I would really regret it if I hadn’t given it a go,” he says.

“I really think the hand made boat is a powerful symbol in the modern world. As we get more constrained to the harness of jobs, security and providing for our families, the boat hints at the journey away… the freedom.”

Robert looks up, with a gleaming twinkle in his eye. “If we’re truthful, I think we all want a part of that, don’t we?”

Photo Credits

All photos courtesy of Norwalk Islands Sharpies except for illustration of sharpie from Woodwork Forums.