The rebirth of Maori Lass

Practical: Wooden boats

Ross (Roscoe) Barnett tells of the loving - and ongoing! - restoration of the Maori Lass.

In September 1950 the old steam crane on Constitution Dock, Hobart, Tasmania lowered a newly built 9.1m (30ft) “compact offshore cruiser”, designed by New Zealand naval architect Mr HE Cox into the River Derwent. Described by the 1947 March/April Seacraft magazine: “This design was developed for a Christchurch yachtsman who wanted a seaworthy, comfortable boat to suit the conditions of yachting out of Lyttleton Harbour and around the Banks Peninsula coast. Yachting in the South Island of New Zealand demanded above all a seaworthy vessel”.

Maori Lass was built over a two-year period in North Hobart by Ron Andrewartha and his two sons, Tom and Bob. The keel and ribs are of Tasmanian blue gum and the planking is celery top pine, the fastenings are copper nails that have been clenched, not roved. The reason for clenching was because the vessel was being built immediately after the war, materials were scarce and copper fastenings were expensive. The decking is oregon, was canvas covered and the interior lockers are constructed from king billy, celery top pine and Tasmanian fiddleback myrtle.

After 21 years of racing and cruising on the River Derwent and D’Entrecasteaux Channel, Maori Lass was relocated to Port Hacking south of Sydney where she continued to race and cruise the east coast; one of those cruises was an extended cruise to the Great Barrier Reef. After acquiring new custodians Maori Lass had a refit in Darwin in 1976 and then embarked on a circumnavigation that would see her at sea for the next six years.

On her return to Australia, she languished for a few years and became a little on the neglected side, before, in my wisdom (or should that be stupidity) I decided that I was in need of but yet another project, but more importantly a vessel that would be able to accommodate the whole family, myself, wife and two young children. At that stage I had already been infected by the “wooden boat disease” and was the proud owner of a beautiful little 20-foot huon pine, ranger-style gaffer, which, unfortunately was far too small for the family to cruise in with any comfort.

Handyman’s delight

So, in 1993, living in Pittwater, on Sydney’s northern beaches we acquired Maori Lass. My wife very kindly remarked, “The real estate agent would have referred to her as a handyman’s delight, renovator’s dream”. Undeterred, I began the long task of bringing her back to scratch. Of course, at that stage it was only going to take me “a year or so” to complete all the work that was needed to transform her back into a comfortable cruising wooden boat.
The only problem was, and still is, she was such a beautiful boat to sail, we always seemed to be cruising round Pittwater, the Hawkesbury or down to Sydney Harbour and as you guessed, the intended work has taken longer than planned.

With any restoration, or refurbishment job, we started with the big clean out and clean up with lots of garbage bags of rubbish and plenty of sugar soap and elbow grease. I’m still in two minds if we did the right thing by constantly using the boat while trying to get the renovation job done, but we were enjoying the sailing and everything else that was happening at the time. After all the cleaning, we then spent quite a considerable amount of time on the end of paint brushes trying to freshen the old girl up.

Heavy-duty stuff

We then moved into the heavy-duty stuff. The decks had originally been canvassed but the canvas had been removed and the oregon decks, while looking good, were letting water in; to the point where it was unhealthy for the well-being of the boat below decks. After checking all the deck beams, the decks were stripped of all fittings then marine ply was epoxy glued and screwed over the existing oregon. This was then covered with dynel, with the dynel going up the cabin sides a couple of inches (50mm) and over the top plank the same.

It was faired in, then painted with non-slip paint and all the fittings replaced along with new teak toe rails.

A new sliding companionway hatch was manufactured in my humble little workshop under the house and copious amounts of trim were replaced round the coachhouse and coamings.

There were new plate racks and shelves manufactured in the galley along with an elaborate ice-box that took hours to design and construct but at the end of the day was well worth all the effort. Next, the galvanised rigging, which I had been advised by a rigger two years earlier needed replacing “immediately”, was eventually replaced.

Replacing the engine beds

The engine beds then had to be replaced; I don’t think the diesel auxiliary that replaced the original Stewart Turner was a very professional job. Then it was time for the cockpit to be completely replaced. In their wisdom, a previous owner had installed a lovely little ice-box under the starboard cockpit seat, a great idea for an ice-cold beer while sailing without having to leave the helm but it leaked and eventually there was a dry rot problem that couldn’t be ignored any longer. Needless to say, we didn’t sail while that job was being completed!

After all the work we had completed above the waterline, we were still encountering problems with the hull. It was constantly leaking. Yes, I hear you say, I know most wooden boats leak but this was just becoming too much. Over the years of owning wooden boats I had become very efficient at calking seams and had accumulated knowledge of caulking from an ex-Garden Island apprentice and also quite an array of caulking irons . . . but. . . .

Tassie move

In 2003 the Barnett family upped stumps and we relocated to Hobart, where the waterways are some of the finest in the world. Mind you in the winter months a heater of some kind is necessary, if you wish to be comfortable but nevertheless the waterways and anchorages are fantastic and certainly not overcrowded.

So what to do with Maori Lass? My dear friend and shipwright colleague Terry suggested that she be trucked down to Hobart because another lengthy ocean crossing in her current state may see the end of her, and me as well, for that matter. Terry had a very close look at her in Pittwater and explained to me that after all the sea miles that she had done in her 53 years she was becoming a little nail tired. “She needs a bottom job,” he said. I made arrangements for hardstand space with the Wooden Boat Centre at Franklin, south of Hobart, built a cradle and in due course Maori Lass was trucked down and craned onto the cradle, where the most extensive part of the refurbishment was to take place. So much for the “quick couple of years” restoration job!

Stripped out

The furniture and fittings inside the vessel were stripped out. Behind the bunks and lockers the boat had been lined with Masonite or Bernie Board, depending on where you come from, and as you guessed it was all damp and mouldy. A non-structural bulkhead was removed aft of the mast and a section of cabin sole that was unable to be removed previously revealed that two floors and the aft end of the mast step were suffering from rot where rainwater had been running down the mast. The next task was to burn off all the old antifouling to just above the waterline (I made sure that I was well protected with a full respirator and disposable overalls) keeping note also of where the original waterline was on the bow and stern so as we could replace it later. All the seams were raked clean of calking cotton and then the hull was sanded and coated with wood preserver (Everdure) so as to stop the celery top pine from drying out while I attended to the inside jobs. Next I removed the rotten floors and mast step, keeping the old mast step as a template and fashioning new floors to suit. These two new floors were then bolted with new handmade copper fastenings right through the lead keel. Drilling the holes with a specially prepared drill bit over a metre long was a challenge in itself but thankfully the holes appeared at the bottom of the keel, dead centre.

Re-fasten

I now had to re-fasten all the planks from the garboard (keel) to the stringer. This meant drilling two holes, per plank on every rib on the opposing side to the existing clenched nails, then nailing and roving. I didn’t count how many nails there were and I’m probably glad that I didn’t . . . there were lots! On the outside all the nail holes were plugged with celery top plugs. Back on the inside, on the waterline were several cracked ribs. These were repaired by cutting out every second rib and scarping in new laminated sections, nailing and roving, then returning to do the others. This was a very time-consuming job, but worth it all when completed.

So, that was the inside complete except for painting, and of course replacing all the furniture. Now for the outside of the hull. It was decided, because the hull had been over-caulked during its lifetime (I don’t think it was me, it may have been the half-blind shipwright that did some re-caulking in Panama) that the hull below the waterline should be splined. “Arr . . . how do we tackle that,” I asked. “Well, it’s quite easy,” I was told. I borrowed a special circular saw blade that had teeth cut in a V-shaped manner, as opposed to a normal blade that has the teeth square cut. This was run down every seam, creating a nice V between the planks. This V was almost the full depth of each plank, which was 1 1/8th” (28mm). I then milled 1 ¼” (33mm) strips of celery top pine to mirror the gaps between the planks and then using epoxy glue, these strips of about 6’ (2m) in length were tapped into place using temporary nails to hold them until the glue had cured.

Excess celery

After all the seams had been splined the next task was to remove all the temporary holding nails and remove the excess celery that was protruding. This was achieved by using a small adze to chip away the bulk and then follow up with a block plane to finish the job off. The hull was then re-sanded and faired and painted . . . easy.

The exercise took me over eight months part-time with the most valuable help from Lew, an ex-student from the Wooden Boat Centre. Towards the end of the project, assistance from the students from the diploma course of that year enabled me to complete the painting and finishing touches. Maori Lass looked a million quid as she was being lowered back into the water. The whole project didn’t cost all that much dollar-wise.

A picture

Maori Lass attended the next Australian Wooden Boat Festival in Hobart and looked a picture along with all the other beautiful wooden boats from Tasmania and interstate, as I hope she will again next month when the 2011 festival rolls around. She has just had her 60th birthday and is still giving us the same amount of pleasure that she did all those years ago. With all the work that has been done, she may well last another 60 years . . . and I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said, there are just a couple of things I need to do before she is completely finished . . . just a year or so!