They say if you do what you love, you'll never work a day in your life. And it seems to be true in this second act of my favorite skipper's working life: he trots off early to get to cracking on the boat, and returns tired and filthy and full of enthusiasm at the end of the day.
In the past week or so, the boat got decked (which is more like patio decking, than, say, round-housed-by-an-angry-bar-patron decking, for those interested in words).
Q: What's the nameless boat wearing?
A: A fetching, formfitting bodysuit made of 8-oz fiberglass cloth from O.H. Rodgers's attic. It should be extra impact-resistant. It's the same vintage material as made his powerboat a decade or so ago.
Like a lot of couture, the boat's clothing involves creativity, a bold pair of shears, and no small amount of frantic activity.
First, Mr. Linton draped the fabric on the form (boat! boat!) and snipped it to fit. He then applied resin to the piece of fiberglass and painted the fluid over the fabric. Then O.H. squeegeed the surface thoroughly to distribute resin and remove air pockets. Then they repeated the process, overlapping bits of fabric over and over until the entire surface was smooth and lovely.
All the while, the clock was ticking as the resin prepared to kick and turn solid. And no Peter Gunn to tell the guys to "Make it work!"
The spots where the hiking racks and the two rudders (two! rudders!) will attach to the hull also received some additional material.
This process was followed by a close shave –– the tool of choice being a single-edged razor –– to remove any excess resinated material, and then an aromatherap exfoliating scrub. That is, a dusty sandpapering.
Next up: make-up!
I mean paint.