When Bill Tapia asked me for an article on the above, I knew what would translate into words would be a book if every detail and ramifiCATAMARANion were explored. So what I have attempted to do here is to summarize what has been successful for us and should not be interpreted as hard and fast rules

.

The title of this article wraps up in a nutshell what I believe is the best system for us. Frameless steel yacht construction is the building of a steel boat over a wood or steel mould. Wood is used to keep cost down and also allows quick modification over steel. The ribs are first lofted up, built, and then set on a strong back. Then full size patterns out of hardboard are made up for the steel to be cut from. We have found that by making full size patterns and joining the steel plates on the floor first, dips and bumps can be eliminated. Of course, the full size patterns are checked on the mold first to make sure no changes have occurred in the cutting and joining.

It is important to make sure that the hardboard used is the same thickness as the steel to be used or else gaps will occur. We use a good grade of glue for the joining of the hardboard patterns with a generous amount of overlap. (See fig. 1) We also use an electric staple gun to make sure the patterns do not change in movement. It would be wise to let them set overnight to allow the glue to get hard.

We then assemble all the patterns on the mould to verify exact fit and also the mould, port and starboard side. I cannot see why one side of the boat should be different from the other, if any differences occur this is the time to set it right.

Once the patterns and mould are found to be correct we then start the steel layup. We try to buy our steel in as long a length as possible to cut down the number of joints. This cuts construction time as well as possible distortions. We use a silver opaque marker for outlining the patterns on steel. The trade name is Sanford and we have found this marker easy to see and holds up well to handling and working of the steel.

Now comes the big job of cutting steel. There are just two basic sensible methods of cutting steel, torch and machine. The torch method will be the longest and toughest but will be the cheaper to start with. When heat is applied to steel there will be distortion. Some methods however can be used to keep down distortion and in some cases to eliminate it. If you are cutting steel plate with a torch, use the smallest possible torch tip and the lowest amount of gas flow at the tip possible. Be careful that you do not pick too low of a tip number-wise or gas-wise, as your cutting will be slow. This will keep heat applied too long and distortion will be greater. The idea is to move as fast as possible and with the lowest gas pressure you can get away with. Only trial and error can give you the correct combination, but use scrap for testing.

The next greatest help you can get to keep distortion down and is well worth the time and material is to tack weld some quarter inch thick metal to the line to be cut. (See fig 2.) This fence will do two things at one time. One it will give you a straight line, which saves grinding and will keep the metal from distorting. Make sure you keep your tacks for the fence no more than four inches apart. Any greater length will allow distortion between tacks. Any plate torch-cut will have some distortion, so after cutting you must then stress-relieve its edges by hammering the edges. Here again you must be careful not hit past the edge or else dents and distortion will occur. As you can see, torch cutting is the cheapest method to start with but in the long run you will spend much time in keeping down distortion but will not completely eliminate it.

Machine cutting: translate into THE NIBBLER. The nibbler is a hand-held mini puncher. It has a small table and die system through which a small punch comes through and punches out a small half moon piece of metal. This process is repeated many times a minute as it punches its way through the steel plate. This method completely ELIMINATES distortion. You will be left with a nice flat piece of metal. You will still have to grind a very slight sharp serrated edge but nothing like a torched edge with slag. We still employ the fence system not for distortion purposes but for straight lines, which eliminates hours of grinding.

At this point you are probably asking yourself why the long winded wordage on torch. The hitch with the nibbler is cost. But I believe in the long run the cost of gas, grinding pads (which are not cheap) and the additional hours spent with stress-relieving you are way out in front with the nibbler. Not to mention that the end product is first class from the word go with the nibbler. If you spend some time shopping and only buy up to the maximum gauge capacity for your boat you might find the cost of the nibbler is not too great. We bought the biggest nibbler we could find and the cost was about $1400. For one boat this is a high investment for the backyard builder. But bear in mind you will have a tool that will be almost like new when you are finished, hence will have a high resale value after the project.

The construction of a steel boat up to this point has been based on the fact that more than one person is involved with the construction of the yacht. For the backyard builder the lifting of a full length steel plate may seem to be an impossible task. But if you employ some safe lifting devices such as lifting chain and "V" hooks, or eyes welded to the plate or holes drilled to allow bolting of chain to the plate, you can lift some fairly large plates. Understand that as you are lifting some fairly long plates, a strong beam of metal must be used to allow the lifting and clearing of the mold. The beam would of course run the length of the pattern, with the chains attached at various points. A note about chain. Beware that not all chain is suited for lifting of anything. You must buy chain classified lifting chain, and you must be sure it is of sufficient diameter. Lifting chain usually costs more than normal chain.

A of welding. So a word to the wise, READ, or go take a class at an adult evening eduCATAMARANion centre. You are guaranteed a distorted, ruined project if you ignore the bible of welding. A second most important rule is the length of a weld. If you spread out five fingers over a piece of metal and you weld that distance, you just broke rule No.2. Cut that distance in half and you will be safe. In a brief summary LEARN how to set up your welder, jump around like a flea, and keep the length of any one weld to half the distance of a five finger spread. Do this and you will be pleased with your finished welded project.

A word on grinding of a hull, DON’T OVERGRIND. A good strong well-built hull can be made into a useless pile of steel by overgrinding which basically can cut the steel plates at joints to paper thin and render a good hull into an unsafe hull. Grinding a hull is done to remove only a weld bead, not to correct mistakes in plate alignment or bad welding which produced a bulge in the hull skin. We only grind the welding beads above the water line and not the rabbet line. That line is impossible to grind accurately and safely. Remember the fish don’t care about seeing an underground weld on the bottom of the hull. In Sweden it is against the law to grind any bead on the hull. I believe they must have had the first time welder in mind when they made up that law. When grinding a bead you should not see any grinding marks on the plates at all until the bead is completely flat. And then only the mill scale should be touched. I classify grinding a hull as an art. It is not a drone’s job, nor is it a friendly neighbor helping out with a beer setting behind him.

A suggestion on grinders. Get yourself two types of grinders, a lightweight one and heavy duty one. On downhand grinding the heavy duty one will do a good job, but on the side of a hull a heavy duty will quickly (like in 5 minutes) reduce your effectiveness and accuracy.

 From Montreal, Canada to Brisbane, Australia 18 "Pere Peinard" has failed miserably to live up to it’s designation as a trailer-sailor. But in order to complete the circumnavigation, we will have to fulfil our promise to the Lock-Keeper in Montreal, and trailer the length of the lock since our boat is Officially Undersize by strict regulations governing safe passage through the lock. He let us through the first time, but only because Claude’s father kept hissing to Claude to "sit down! Stay low! When you stand up you make the boat look small!" Fortunately, we had no such restrictions in passing the Panama Canal.

Since most would say the main advantage to mini boats is their trailerability, it is perhaps strange to have chosen to build such a boat for offshore cruising over long distances rather than highway mileage. But Claude, at the age of 18, wanted a boat capable of sailing anywhere despite the limitations of budget, so he decided that he could make up for size in sheer quality. This explanation satisfied me until I saw the worksite, his father’s garage – the glue droppings left from the cold-moulded construction make a perfect outline on the floor with a few inches to spare… "Pere Peinard was the absolute maximum size permitted by the available space. Still building at home enabled him to continue a carpentry job and college as well as working on the boat for the two years it took till launching.

Guided by the principle "Trop fort, na jamais manquer" (too strong, never miss) and doubtless influenced by the screaming winter winds of Quebec, Claude now feels he overbuilt. Be that as it may, it is undoubtedly the one vessel best able to withstand capsize, pitchpole, dropping off waves or other such untried calamities, with flotation built in watertight bulkheads and blown ( in the form of insulating foam) floatation coating the inside of the hull. No thru-hull fittings, a hollow skeg and a watertight deck keep the integrity of the whole. And then, besides security, comfort was a primary concern. This is simply a "question of organisation" which means that with thoughtful effort, it is possible to be as well, if not better, equipped than many a bigger boat. It also needs a rather ruthless elimination of "stuff", after which you can still carry a full set of power tools, generator, typewriter, library, files, sewing machine, and whatever projects especially amuse you. With nine sails aboard, three anchors/chain/line, two sextants, two SW radios, a UHF radio, a spare windvane, etc. we don’t feel that the problem is space at all – our worry is weight rather than room. Being a buoyant stable design, with a fairly flat bottom and twin keels as well as broad beam, the boat sails best with plenty of wind and is not bothered overmuch by sea conditions.

Given a long-term passage, "Pere Peinard" keeps pace with the 25’ cruising set with astonishing ease. This may be due to factors obviously other than the ‘waterline formula’ for speed under sail. Because the rig is comparatively strong, we push the boat to an extreme. Because we are as lazy as the next crew, we get a lot more result out of the same effort spent on sail change aboard a larger boat when more sail is needed… but we are even lazier than the average when it comes to reducing sail. We get a genuine thrill out of surfing at ± 7 knots, and have on occasion been so excessively carried away that the speedometer’s stuck at 10 knots. By way of illustration, we made the 900-mile doldrum leg between Panama and the Galapagos in 21 days; bigger boats took longer still during the same period unless using diesel power. But the 3000 miles from the Galapagos to the Marquesas sped by in 26 days – 120 miles a day average. For three consecutive days during the run we averaged 143 miles… we arrived in the Marquesas only two days after our fleet of big-boat friends. So, although we sometimes have the discouraged urge to go Faster, this handicap of slowness has never jeopardized our safety, nor has it slowed us down in the long run.

Nevertheless we continue to lighten the boat as much as possible. In all, there’s not much more we could ask of any boat than we are not already given by "Pere "Peinard". Maybe it hasn’t been much of a trailer sailer, but as home to us and our CATAMARANs, it has given us all kinds of different scenery out the windows.

Signed

 (From an article published in Cruising Helmsman in 1984. The sea's moods haven't changed since then, nor have the line's of the Spray. This story could have been written yesterday.)

Gale warning – Double Island Point to Coolangatta. Strong wind warning south to Coffs Harbour. The forecast had kept us in Ballina for nearly a week, and the Richmond River was in flood. Several boats had been damaged at the wharf, with fenders and barge boards finding it difficult to cope with the pounding. It was not much better out on an anchor, with logs and debris coming downstream. One fellow yachtsman remarked gloomily, as we sat in the RSL Club and watched the mad cavortings of the boats, that last time he had been in Ballina, he had been weathered in for 17 days!

There hadn’t been much talk on the 27 meg radio – no one was going anywhere in the trying conditions, but unexpectedly a yacht was heard calling Ballina Coastguard for information on the bar.

Surely no one could be mad enough to attempt it under these conditions! We had had a strong wind warning for three days and there wasn’t any improvement in sight.

Listening to the conversation, we gathered that the boat, Derwent Endeavour had been waiting out the storm for two days and had had enough. They wanted to attempt the entrance in the hope of getting some relief from the awful conditions outside.

The Coastguard advised them against making the attempt, but when they insisted they would like to give it a try, he gave them all the help he could. They sounded reasonably confident they could make it, with a long keel and 80hp engine in a 12.5m boat. Appalled we headed for the breakwater to see if we could see the yacht, and to check on the conditions on the bar. We had been down in the morning, and the bar was no better – line after line of breaking waves smashing against the breakwaters and boiling around the rocks.

In driving rain and with waves breaking over the breakwaters, we could just see a pair of masts out at sea. They were swinging wildly as they came into sight between the troughs.

I think every house in Ballina must have a 27 meg radio, or word had spread quickly. Cars from all directions began converging on the scene. In a town that relies a lot on fishing, the locals are very aware of the bar and its dangers and no doubt this wasn’t the first potentially dangerous situation they had seen. I admit that in the past I had always looked sourly on people lining breakwaters watching yachts and fishing boats come in over bars, as vultures waiting for an accident, but everyone there was anxious for the safety of the boat and crew.

As the boat came closer to the bar, she began to be picked up by the breakers, and would be thrust forward, her bows cleaving the water before sliding off the back of the waves. By this time we could see she was a Roberts Spray, with the characteristic bluff bow.

As the seas got steeper, we expected her to broach, but her long keel kept her heading in the right direction. With the flat transom the waves were lifting her well and she would surf forward a short way.

Right at the start of the breakwater, an exceptionally large wave picked her up. At that moment the helmsman gave her full throttle. The boat took off like a surfboat, disappearing in a sea of foam, surfing in at an estimated 20 knots for about 100 metres.

It is difficult to estimate speed and distance, and I can hear the expressions of disbelief, but that was the agreed estimate on consultation with others watching.

During the ride her fibreglass dinghy, which was in davits on the stern, filled with water, tearing its stern out, but the boat suffered no damage. A spontaneous cheer and applause broke from the waters, and we all laughed with relief.

We were lucky enough to get some photos – poor quality due to driving rain, spray and bad light.

Anyone who watched the Derwent Endeavour can have no doubt as to her seaworthiness and the skill of her captain. Her bluff bow would not allow her to bury her nose, and the stern lifted exceptionally well in the following sea. My mind balks at the thought of what would have happened to a fine fin keeler. The enthusiasm of one fellow watcher knew no bounds – he had recently launched his own Spray in Sydney, and boy, wouldn’t he have something to tell the knockers back home.

After four and a half years of part-time work and then six months of continuous hard "yakka" I finally completed my 12.20m Roberts Spray at Boyer, close to the beautiful Derwent river in southern Tasmania. She was formed with "C" flex and hand laid up with glass.

The original idea was that when I retired my wife and I would do charter work in Queensland, so I was building under survey. I recall the number of times I cursed (under my breath) when skin fittings had to be changed and extra glass had to be laid up here and there. I thought the original specifications made her an extremely sound vessel and here was this official making a nuisance of himself; at a later date I had cause to bless his thoroughness.

In May 1984 we sailed from Hobart bound for Port Macquarie and nine days later, after an uneventful trip, we tied up at the Marina in Port Macquarie. The craft behaved well, even when we were surprised by some very strong gusts of wind north of Newcastle.

We made Port Macquarie our homeport for some time and I found that when crossing the bar, if I opened up the motor I could surf in. I realise I should have reversed the engine and cleared the broken water as quickly as possible, but the Spray seemed to delight in this, no doubt due to the hull design, the long straight keel and 80hp diesel.

The craft had still not proved herself, but on the second trip to Lord Howe she showed herself in her true colours. My son Chris, two friends and myself left Port Macquarie with a reasonable weather forecast, about 60 miles out the wind veered and increased in force, the seas built up into a confused pattern and we were in the middle of a storm.

This was with us for most of the five days it took us to reach Lord Howe. The only wind gauge I had was a hand –held instrument and totally useless, but the Met office on the island, told us the wind reached 60 knots.

As can be imagined conditions on board were pretty hectic but the boat behaved beautifully, the only damage was a torn main sail.

Port Macquarie to Southport – a piece of cake I thought. Chris and I decided we would get the two members who had crewed to Lord Howe but due to business commitments they were anavailable. Two acquaintences were "signed on" – one was a young male hairdresser with no sea experience at all, the other was an older man who owned a runabout and had operated offshore for a number of years.

It was June 1983 and as we sailed over a turbulent bar at Port Macquarie, the weather report was not really favourable, but as my son and the hairdresser had limited time we intended a quick non-stop trip to Southport.

With all sails up, the motor ticking- over and an easterly wind of about 20 knots we were making good time, although the sky looked threatening. However, Chris who was tidying up some rope foreward found that a seam on the jib sail had started to come apart. The sail was dropped and we continued at reduced speed. It was decided to go into Coffs Harbour to get the sail repaired. Gengraft gave us excellent service, but we did not get under way until about 1.30pm the following day. The sky was overcast and the weather forecast was for rain and northeast winds of 20 to 20 knots.

As soon as we had slipped our mooring the sky opened up and the rain poured down. About an hour outside the protection of the harbour the seas started to build up and the wind backed to northerly and freshened. Under jib, main and mizzen we tacked easterly, fortunately the rain had stopped and under auto pilot the boat was handling the conditions well.

At about 4pm I awoke, the craft was being thrown around, I put my head through the hatch and the young hairdresser, who had been on watch said "she has been going off the clock" and promptly put his head over the side to be sick.

The log read up to 12 knots, the sea was menacing, I remember thinking "I hope it doesn’t get worse". Black storm clouds had darkened the skies and the wind was gusting fiercely. Although a lot of spray was coming over the cockpit, little to no sea was coming on board. Dressed in oil skins and attached to the boat with safety lines the crew reduced the sails to a double reef in the main and the mizzen; we all took it in turns to be sick.

Conditions began to deteriorate rapidly. The main was dropped and the mizzen pulled in tight to keep the craft facing the weather. A check with the Satnav showed that we had plenty of sea room, so everything was battened down and we took to our bunks to avoid being thrown around the cabin and to ease the sea sickness; even under these conditions the "new chum"always managed to find one of the heads or sink.

Outside it was pitch black, the wind shrieked, the waves appeared to be massive and the seas pounded and tossed the hull around,some time later, I was in the stern cabin wedged into my bunk when I heard a foreign noise and looking through the transparent hatch in the roof of the cabin I saw the mizzen sail flapping free, I thought the sheets had broken.

With an effort I got out of the bunk,but Chris was already up putting his safety line on and shouting above the noise of the gale to the two others in the foreward cabin to put on their lines and help on deck, the hairdresser was past it, but the other man was game.

On deck it could be seen the sheets had not broken, but two metres of one inch pipe which had been welded between the davits and attached to the sheets had been ripped out and was waving around on the end of the boom.

I started the engine and held her into the wind while Chris and his mate tried to stand on the cabin top and lower the sail. Suddenly Chris lost his balance and ended up against the stern rails, only the safety line and strong nails saved him. Fortunately he was not over seriously injured and the sail and pipe was secured.

I decided to let the craft find her own position and hove-to under bare poles. The boat instead lay beam-on to the sea and as I laid in my bunk I could see through the hatch the waves breaking over the cabin top. The noise of the storm was even louder and above the shrieking wind, it sounded as though someone was hitting the hull with a sledge hammer.

Next, the fridge started to come adrift and we had to wedge it in position with the table turned upside down against the door of the fridge and the end of a bunk.

The next morning after a sleepless night, conditions had improved considerably. There was still a high sea rolling in from the east which was only breaking occasionally, a check with the Satnav showed we were 30 miles due east of Ballina. It was decided to make for Ballina to get some rest and food. A check had shown that the tide would be favourable and with the wind and the sea behind us we reached Ballina in short time. But what a shocking sight greeted us. Due to the volume of rain which had fallen and was still falling, the river was running out at a great rate and breakers were rolling through the entrance. By radio we tried to get permission to go in but there appeared to be some mix up, so after circling round for half an hour, we decided to risk it. We had every confidence in the boat, Chris and I shut the other two below and I tried to wear a life jacket but it was too bulky to wear in the cockpit. I lined up the markers and headed in.

The first one caught us just outside the entrance – I could hear it coming. It lifted the boat, drove us forward and with a rush of white water was past, the second one caught us just past the entrance. Then Chris yelled there was a big one; I could hear it roaring and as it reached us I opened the motor and surfed in with it for about 100 metres and reached clear water. About this time I became aware of the crowd of spectators on the north breakwater, they were applauding.

John Clode of the yacht Caliph who took a series of shots told us that from the breakwater, there were times when he could not see the tops of our masts (14.5m from water level).

The trip up the Queensland coast saw some rough weather, as did the crossing of the Coral Sea from Cairns to Samarai. Several times I was caught by 30 knot winds and it was only the innate design and exceptional strength of "MUTA" that saved the day.

The vessel has far more sea sense than any other boat I have owned and I have no doubt at all that few other boats of this size could have handled the voyage.

As you can see from my log after departing Tingalpa Creek on 30^th October 1980,myself and Robin Muir took two days and one night to get to Bundaberg. The lighthouse keeper at Sandy Cape was of great assistance in crossing Break Sea Spit, and VH4-ATT waited up till after midnight with coffee and sandwiches in Bundaberg and also organised a berth for us for the night. People like this are the ones that keep boating safe and a joy to all those with whom they come in contact.

We remained in Bundaberg for a day and then left and got caught in a storm off Gladstone when we had to turn tail and run back to Port Curtis. With the autohelm handling the steering and the "MUTA" handling the seas, we got inside Port Curtis and anchored at midnight. The trip up the "NARROWS" the next day with 3ft of water and 2ft 6ins of draught was a slow one but calm after the previous night.

Roslyn Bay, our next stop, was a pleasant surprise with the canteen selling excellent takeaway food and ice. We were here for three days and met another Roberts Longboat owner who uses his vessel regularly to get out to the Barrier Reef. We were fortunate to be allowed to use the Yacht Club showers and toilets and be generally made to feel at home by the caretakers. After several days, the weather cleared and we moved on up the coast in beautiful conditions passing Shoalwater Bay and moved into the Whitsundays in calm seas and, regretting our lack of time, moved on to Bowen.

In Bowen, Robin Muir left to return to New Guinea as his leave was over and I met typical North Queensland hospitality in the form of Warren and Norma McEwan from Mackay on the yacht "CARELLA". Their big white steel ketch was huge compared to the "MUTA" and the three of us shopped around Bowen and talked boats until the wee hours.

I stayed there for three days and then departed for the first leg of the voyage by myself. I picked a bad day and about nine o’clock the wind started rising and by the time I reached Cape Bowling Green I was looking forward to making a safe anchorage behind Cape Upstart.

Owing to the size of the waves and the low level of one of the fuel tanks, the engine got air in the injector pump and I took almost 45 minutes to change tanks and bleed the engine. Most of the time was spent holding on as "MUTA" was battered by the waves. During this time, only once did I get any water on board, this was the foamy crest of a particularly large wave. Two hours later, when I anchored behind Cape Upstart, I was still shaking.

The next few days were also rough and I passed Townsville and anchored in Pioneer Bay on Orpheus Island and the day after I moved on to Dunk Island. Almost everything on Dunk Island placarded "House Guests Only" and I couldn’t buy a cold drink there. From about 2000 hours onwards I was watching a chap on a small 20ft CATAMARAN about a mile off the island. When it got to 1730 hours I decided he may be in trouble although he wasn’t showing any signs of distress. I pulled in the anchor and went out and one of his hulls had become detached from the platform at the stern and he was unable to sail it back to Dunk. A tow saw him safely ashore and that was my good deed for the day.

I arrived in Cairns the next afternoon after a long beautiful day but couldn’t get ashore because my inflatable dinghy had sprung a leak. However, the next day saw me hitching a ride ashore where I stayed with new found friends for three days. The Buellers looked after me like family and Peter Bueller volunteered to crew for the next leg across the Coral Sea, which is just as well as the first night out of Cairns through Fitzroy Passage saw the autopilot going u/s. We stood three hour shifts for the next 65 hours when by my only good sight and dead reckoning I put myself 6 hours off the New Guinea Coast. We were both very tired and the sea was by now calm for the first time so I put out the sea anchor and drifted for seven hours and had a good sleep. Next morning 25/11/80 at 1100 we sighted land at Amazon Bay and travelled along the New Guinea coastline that afternoon and night to the east, arriving in Samarai at 0800 and took care to anchor downwind from Customs. That afternoon, Peter left on a plane for Port Moresby and on to Cairns and I stayed on in Samarai area for three days and rewatered, refuelled and recovered. Samarai was very friendly and the people at Belesana Slipways provided showers and fresh water at no charge.

On leaving Belesana, the weather continued fine with light south-easterly winds. Over the next three days I travelled north-westerly up the New Guinea Coast, hand-steering now by myself and trying to make a good landfall each afternoon by 2000 hours and departing the next morning at 0600; nine hours nonstop at the wheel through those reef-infested waters is about all I could handle. Every day I saw large schools of porpoises, mackerel, tuna and the odd shark.

Anchoring each night in a supposedly uninhabited area, I was soon surrounded by canoes full of wide-eyed children, who were content to sit and stare at me for several hours. Luckily, in Cairns, I bought up large quantities of sweets for just such occasions and I was able to send the kids back to their villages munching happily. Many of them would not have had lollies before.

On 4/12/80 I entered Tufi Fiords and tied up at the fisheries wharf to meet Trevor Bell, the Fisheries Officer there and his wife Dorothy. I stayed with the Bells for two nights, topped up my tanks and headed off on 7/12/80 for Lae, some 240 miles distant. This leg took four days and I was running before a S.E. swell. Each night I anchored in a coral lagoon and two nights running was kept awake by dugongs cavorting about the boat and bumping it.

On the last day, entering Lae, I was held up for 30 minutes by a large school of whales that I took for pilot whales. They surrounded the boat and I couldn’t move for fear of hitting one of them. Many had calves with them, the calves coming up against the hull and rolling against it. Their dorsal fin was black, as was their body, but had a peculiar wart-like growth on the top of the fin. Eventually, they moved off and I continued into Lae where I stayed for three nights becoming a social creature again.

On 13/12/80, I set out for Kimbe on my final leg. The run up to Fincheschaven was uneventful and I anchored in a small bay full of wartime wrecks beside an abandoned airstrip and made ready for the crossing of the Vitiaz Straits. The Vitiaz are renowned for their rough weather and seas caused by strong currents running from the Bismark to the Coral Sea contrary to wind direction.

The day started well but rapidly deteriorated with irregular seas, peaking in all directions. I was battened down and the spray and light rain hampered visibility to the extent that I steered on D-reckoning for four hours for the tiny Nessep Island marking the only navigable passage into the Dampier Straights. Wind speed increased and the white water and foam streaks made reefs invisible.

The vessel thrived in these seas as only a displacement hull can and at 1130 I was abeam Nessup Island and guessed the 200 yard gap in the reef correctly. All through the Dampier Straights the sea continued slightly abated and even when I eventually anchored behind a reef near a village called Sag Sag, the waves were thumping down on the beach. I slept from 2000 to 2100 when I was awakened by a discreet coughing to be told by a young girl that she wanted to "marry" me. Carnal pursuits being fairly well back on the agenda of desires at this time, I sent her off with some lollies to await the next unsuspecting traveller. I was trapped in this area for two nights when the wind eventually dropped and I departed on the afternoon of 16/12/80. But at 2000 that night the winds came up again and I steered nonstop from then till 1220 the next day before able to see. I estimated Cape Holman Lighthouse at 1230 and it appeared at 1235. Much to my relief, on rounding the Cape, the seas dropped and I raised Kimbe Base on 27.91mz directly. They had me on relay through Australian Volunteer Stations for the whole trip so Kimbe knew I was getting close. By 1900 that night I had the end in sight and at 2000 hours I tied up to our wharf, the voyage over. Many people were there and celebrations and tall tales and true were spun far into the night.

In retrospect, it is not a voyage to be lightly undertaken and the planning for it took several months. Obviously, a sound vessel and a reliable motor are essentials but probably the most crucial factor is the ability to recognise your limits and not to carry on regardless in the face of danger. A 21ft vessel has limitations and battleships have been lost in rough seas. The Longboat has had nothing but praise for all who see her and the proof of the pudding was in the eating.

With high regards and many thanks,