Twenty-two Hours

     Didn't make it on the water.  Strung a rod, loaded the gear and tied on the canoe.  Took it off and unloaded twenty minutes later.  Did a good job both on and off, in and out.  There's a pleasure to be found in doing something right.  A good time was had by all.  For the time being my place is at home.  Don't want to go into more detail than that.
     Hadn't been up north in over two months and the property had grown shaggy.  Needed a haircut and a sprucing to make it looked tended and loved.  Also'd keep the evil ones away.  Mowed and cleaned.  Throw in a few hours of evening reading and it was a good most-of-a-day.

Life

     There's an old saw about life getting in the way of plans.  Can't say I had a lot of specific plans for the year.  You know the kind.  The ones tied to people, places and dates.  But I did have urgings toward possibilities.  Get out on the water.  Maybe head up north for another trip.  Doubt they'll happen this year.
     Seems life comes along once in a while to set the course and lay down the rules.  Like Moses coming down from the mountain.  But that's okay.  After all, we're just along for the ride.
     'Spose I could look at it as having to put the things I'd like to do off to the future once again but I won't.  Instead I'll call it variations on the theme of being alive.  It's all good.  Even the bad.
     Outside of that I'm still working on the paddles.  They're close to epoxy and varnish time.  Also have a new grandson.  Goes by the name of Joshua.  Maybe I'll call him Josh or J., possibly Shua.  For the moment he doesn't seem to care.  When the time comes, he'll let us know.

Paddles Redux

     After about a dozen hours of sawing, gluing, planing and sanding, I'm starting to think the two children's paddles are going to be okay.  I'm hoping for better than okay but have my doubts.  Next couple will be done differently.  Not sure how exactly but I will make construction changes.  My problem is getting a tight joint when I glue up the blade.  Blame that on a combination of operator error and equipment.  The gappage isn't earth shaking but wide enough to possibly solve with a little wood putty.  I know, craftsmen don't need no stinkin' wood putty.  Guess that says a lot about what kind of workman I am.  So long as they don't fall apart in the hands of one of my grandkids, I'll be happy.
     I wanted to properly use the word 'redux' in the blog tile and came close.  Seems redux is a return with a positive spin.  I'll call my use a spin-less return with a possible hint of the negative depending what the grandkids say.  Don't know how well I'd take, "Geez Gramps, this paddle sucks.  You sure don't know what you're doing, do you?"  I'm thinking about making a ten foot pole kinda like the one's used by wild ricers to push their canoe through the reeds.  They do it while standing up.  If you know me, you know I don't ever stand up in a canoe but that's not what it's for.  If I ever hear paddle complaints arising in the front of the boat, the pole will come in handy as an attitude adjuster.

Workin' It Out

     Turned out the photos I shot caused no more than a minor inconvenience for 'Emil's Cabin'.  Also figured it'd be much easier for the two of us if Emil bought a small generator to run power tools.  Why not?  Given the chance and a pocket full of cash, that's what a man of his generation would do.  So that's what I'm doing, re-read and edit number three.  Doesn't matter I'm not interested in publishing.  Does matter I want the story to read well.

Paddles I (have we done this before?)

     Read recently at sawdustfactory.net that the first paddle is nothing more than a prototype.  How about the second and third?  Hopefully not the fourth or the fifth.
     Seems like most of the amateur made paddles I've read about were made of cedar.  Pish-posh, I don't need no stinkin' cedar.  Too weak.  Too light.  Too unmanly.  My first was made of laminated ash.  I fear weighing it and have contented myself with using it to lever boulders and drive garden posts.  Not a dent in the blade or anywhere.  Yah, she's a club even though she's pretty.
     The two I'm now carving are a combination of douglas fir, white cedar, ash and yellow poplar.  Altogether lighter than just ash but still more work and weight than I'd like.  When will I learn?  Gluing and trimming the blank was no problem (truth is, everything's a problem when I set to doing something).  Now comes the shaping and thinning to size.  Had the loom (that's a fancy word for the shaft.  Hadn't heard of it till I read the above website.  Thought I'd throw it in to make me sound like I know what I'm doing) been made of cedar I'd of pulled out the old spoke shave (after ordering one on line) and shaved 'er to shape.  Instead, I did what I always do, grab a tool I do have, in this case a random orbital sander, slap on a forty grit disc and grind away.  It works.  More or less.  Woulda been a whole lot easier if the loom had not been laminated douglas fir.  Sawdust up the hose and in the ears.  Life is good and my snot, varying shades of white, red and brown.

Emil's Nothin' But Trouble

     The photo I shot at Portage Brook told me "Emil's Cabin" needed a serious rework right from the word one.  Don't know that I'm up to the task.  It's not like I know what I'm doing with the written word.  My blogs are done about the same way I built the cabin, educated guess work.
     Anyhow, that's what I'm doing at the moment.  Don't have anything else to write about at the moment so I may as well let the old guy run me ragged.

Paddles (again)

     Three grandsons and one on the way.  That's four paddles right there.  Oh yeah, there's Mollie.  Better make that five.  Then there's me.  And maybe Allan.  And if Allan, better do one for Ryan.  'Spose I could do Ryan's dad and his Uncle Eldon.  'Spose I could add my daughter and daughter-in-law in the mix.  That's a dozen.  Sounds like fun and a lot of glue.