Above: compass timber is wood with a grown shape to it – like a bough of a tree. It is used in traditional boatbuilding, most often for frames and knees, because it is usually stronger with more longevity than a frame made malleable by steaming to shape it, or gluing battens together to laminate the frame. Here a piece of wood is roughly shaped using a chainsaw before a plane or adze is used for final shaping. Launch day (right) is always a party… the boat has been gradually ‘cut down’ on her side onto logs to roll into the sea
like this. So we came second, no matter. For me it remains bright silver in memory – one of my trophy sails. The story of Genesis began with Alexis’
eight-year ownership of another local Carri- acou sloop, Summer Wind. ‘I dreamed of building another larger vessel in the same traditional manner, on the beach at Wind- ward, where Alwyn Enoe was still creating them. Firstly a model was made up, dis- cussed in great detail and then Alwyn, Calis- tus and a nephew met me in Grenada with a chainsaw to cut local cedar for the frames. ‘With the owner’s agreement we went
into a forest property in St David’s and felled, limbed and cut a few 10ft monster logs which we manhandled through ravines, sliding around in mud, towards the road. Hard going!’ The rest of the timber for planking was
ordered off-island through Caribbean Woods of Bequia. The frames were shaped by adze in the traditional way. Over the following months she took
shape in frame but delays and a hurricane meant it was eight months before planking began. In that time termites had got into some frames and the keelson, which had to be replaced – they were already eaten. Alexis used bronze fastenings rather than the normal iron for holding the 1in silver- balli (from Surinam) and wana-planks to her frames. The greenheart for the keel comes from Guyana. After 16 months Genesis was ready for
launch. Without cranes or a slipway the boatbuilders rely on local help, promising a rum party with food. A day is set to take advantage of a 0.6m tidal range, and women start cooking in advance. The local priest arrives to bless the boat,
shaking holy water on her deck, and Alexis, as owner, sacrifices a cockerel over her samson post!
52 SEAHORSE Next she has to be cut down, on her
side, to lie on log rollers. Men with hatchets or cutlasses chop away at the feet of her shores in unison, bringing her slowly over on her side. lt’s a skilled task. An anchor is laid out at sea with a six-part block and tackle, and she is put in a bridle. A band strikes up. Then, with singing and rhythm, many hands haul on the ropes and she rolls slowly into the water. By all accounts it’s a magic event, happening in the same way it did 150 years ago or more. The cost to get her to this basic state,
back in 2005, was around $US50,000 – then less than £30K. ‘She’ll cost me another $25,000 to finish her for cruising and with an engine,’ Alexis surmised; but she’s the family boat. The lines of the Carriacou boats are
unique, with a discernible straight running rake from stem to stern, to a low heel. The stem is curved and yachty, with a graceful entry – which is slack below the waterline but develops for quite buoyantly full bows above it. They don’t have much draught and hence require somewhat shoebox-like mid-sections with a sharp turn at the bilge and no tumble home. This extreme deadrise is the secret to
their speed, giving them huge amounts of reserve buoyancy and therefore stability as they heel. Their open and honest transoms are pure workboat, with a bit of the wine- glass to them and a few degrees of rake, which, with the long overhanging stern, is enough to defeat a breaking following sea. Rig seems to be a matter of choice.
Some are gaff rigged with a topsail, others gunter or bermudan. The latter rig, tracing its origins back to the speeljachts of 17th- century Holland is traditional here, espe- cially with shorter masts which could be stayed with organic cordage. Many sailors notice them, but it was
Douglas Pyle, who wrote the book Clean, Sweet Wind after spending five years cruising the Caribbean, who published their design. Douglas had become hooked after he sailed a beaten-up little sloop of a workboat in Saint Croix. She was passing all comers and he realised the development of design of the simple craft had been over- looked by an establishment blind to West Indian genius. Discussing their lines with the naval
architect John Perryman, he agreed it was their deadrise – reminding one almost of a single-chine vessel from the mid-section running aft, which apart from helping them stay upright on the wind, reduces wetted surface area while the flat stern sections prevent them squatting down in the water when sailing off the wind: ‘They may have evolved like that but it’s difficult to see how the design could be bettered, she’s just a great-looking boat.’ She certainly is, and sails even better.
Alexis went on to win most of the class silver in Genesis that year and made a superb film called Vanishing Sail about these boats. Me, I went for a couple o’ rums,
Antigua style, before I made it back to the ship. Too late to sober up or even change for dinner so I remained in character for the rest of the night. As for John, it feels like I might have made him up. My notes contain nothing of his re-emergence; mem- ory… blank. Poor Rex might well have had a heart condition, he died a few months later. I never read Red Top’s piece, if there was one, but his chatty, charming and intelligent wife died a little later too. Maybe the moral is, when you are all at sea, then stay on the water. * A cable is 600ft, 100 fathoms or nearly a tenth (0.1) of a nautical mile. It is based on the average length of a ship’s anchor rope from the age of sail.
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