The barge “Miss Katie” is an
unusual boat these days, and yet there is something familiar about her.
That feeling of familiarity comes from using snippets of traditional forms
and details. Because boats like Miss Katie conjure up memories of gentler
times, folks almost always respond to them in a positive way. They smile
when they first see them. There’s a hint of a canal boat about her. Look
at that long, low house, and the paint scheme. Folks who haven’t seen
traditional English canal boats might be surprised to learn that the paint
Miss Katie wears in these drawings is really quite muted, compared to the
rampant colors and patterns found on some narrowboats. Funny how you
seldom see artwork on the side of boats. Although sometimes you do see
sterns painted, and people always like it if it’s done well. I’ve sketched
in some flowers here, like they do in the old country. If that’s too
frilly for you, you might prefer a tropical beach scene, or some clipper
ships. Now if you want a woman to live aboard with you, why not have one
side done with a whaling scene for yourself, say Capt. Ahab tangled up
with Moby Dick. Leave the other side framed but blank. Tell her you’ll get
that one painted the way she wants it. Whatever you choose, buck the
current trend and make it pleasant to contemplate, not shocking, crude or
aggressive.
Image is one thing, but there are plenty of hardheaded practical details
in the design too. Let’s look at the hull for a start. Miss Katie’s hull
is mostly flat bottomed. There are lots of good reasons for that. If the
tide leaves you high and dry, she stays upright. If you put her on a flat
bed truck (note the highway-legal beam, 8”-6”), or keep her on the hard
for a while, or ship her somewhere on the deck of a freighter, you don’t
need much more than a couple of six by sixes to set her on.
Miss Katie will float in a foot of water. You can run her up onto the
beach. See the gate in the bow? Maybe you’ll carry a gangplank on the
cabin roof. I’m told an aluminum ladder covered with 3/8” plywood makes a
particularly lightweight gangplank. That bow is a compromise, pointy down
low and blunt up higher. You’ll appreciate the extra room on deck, and
unless you drop the hook in the anchorage from hell, the boat isn’t going
to slap when you’re trying to sleep. Of course you’ll want to slow up a
little in a heavy chop. And underway the bow wave will be a little noisier
than it would be if the entrance were finer. But that’s really not very
much to suffer, not when you consider the advantages.
Let’s see now…you’re cruising silently past the beach after supper, when
you spot some old friends just stretching out after finishing a barbecue.
So you run her gently up onto the beach, drop the gate, and walk ashore
with a soft drink in one hand, a lunch anchor in the other, and dry
sneakers on both feet. You pull the rode tight, plant the anchor into the
sand and step on it. “Hi Folks. Anyone for a sunset cruise?”
You may have guessed that Miss Katie is meant to move at displacement
speeds. She’ll be no good as a rumrunner. That rocker in her bottom gets
us 6’-3” headroom throughout the cabin, while the “air draft” is kept at
only 6 feet (6 feet plus the height of the house deck hatches). The
displacement is within reason too. Miss Katie isn’t a really heavy boat
for her size, but she’s no lightweight either. The design displacement is
7100 pounds with full tanks. But if you pile an extra thousand pounds more
stuff into her, she won’t care much, unless you put it on top of the
cabin. She’ll just settle an inch lower. There’s room for ballast under
the cabin sole. 1850 pounds of gravel are called for, cheap and effective.
In case you accidentally get the bilge wet somehow, water will drain
through it, and it will dry out. That ballast gives Miss Katie pretty good
stability. So for her size, she’ll be comfortable to live on. A 200 pound
man standing on her rail heels her only 1 , depressing her sheer less than
an inch. The vertical center of gravity is only 1.5 feet above the
waterline. It’s interesting to note that the hull alone is self-righting
to 77 degrees, discounting any help from submerging the cabin. Not that
anyone with an ounce of sense would want her anywhere near conditions that
would roll her that much.
They say umbrellas don’t belong on boats. Well maybe that’s so and maybe
it isn’t. I’d be sorely tempted to try one here. You can get a really nice
wood and canvas one in a grocery store for $70, a quarter of the cost of a
bimini. On a hot summer day, I’d rig it forward on that nice open deck, or
up top, where there’s almost always a little breeze. Why not guy down
three or four of its sticks to stabilize it? You can open the windows and
the doors at each end of the cabin too. The sea breeze will whistle right
through there. Could be you don’t need an air conditioner after all.
Come to think about it, since money is a bit hard to come by right now,
there are a lot of things you won’t need right away. Maybe you should
think hard about whether you’d ever need them. Electrics aboard really are
troublesome. Try to minimize them. It’s surprising how much money you can
spend wiring a boat, especially if you use marine grade wire like they say
you should. At anchor, electric lights need batteries, and some way to
charge them. I rather like kerosene lamps; always wanted to get one of
those “Aladdin” kerosene lamps for the cabin, the really bright ones that
use a mantle. They’re quite silent, aren’t they?
A refrigerator is another expense, and one of the more difficult things to
keep running on a boat if you can’t plug into shore power. An electric
fridge is perfect on dock power, but it’s a real nuisance at anchor. You
need huge batteries, and likely a noisy generator, or half the decks
covered with expensive solar panels. Nevertheless, for most folks living
aboard, a good refrigerator is one luxury that’s well worth having. The
very best fridge for a boat that doesn’t sail is definitely a propane
fridge with AC backup, not that you’re likely to ever see one on a
production powerboat. You can use one of the models made for trailers and
RVs. You should plan the installation so that the door faces athwartships.
That way, the fridge isn’t sensitive to any list the boat takes on. It’s
also very important to arrange for lots of ventilation direct to the great
outdoors to cool the coils and vent the exhaust. Follow those two rules,
and you won’t have any problem with performance. For safety, you should
install a propane sniffer alarm. And you should adopt a strict daily
routine to check that the propane plumbing holds pressure. Propane fridges
aren’t cheap, but they are a lot less expensive than buying and
maintaining an electric fridge, batteries, and generator. A new propane
fridge is about $1200. If you can find a used one in decent shape, it will
still probably set you back $1000 by the time you get it in there and all
hooked up. If you find you’re happy enough with a $100 bar fridge at the
dock, and an icebox later at anchor, so much the better. But for me, I’d
save up and spring for a new propane fridge as soon as I could afford one.
Plumbing can be trouble too, especially those electric pumps that always
seem to leak or burn out early. Given enough time hoses leak too, and they
leak sooner if they’re kept under pressure. I guess I’d still build in the
tanks, one to carry fresh water, and one meant eventually for black water.
Being 55 gallon plastic barrels, they’re tough and cheap, about $25 brand
new. For a pump, you might be better off with one of those manual
lever-operated diaphragm pumps. Get a good-sized one, and a few strokes
will fill a small day tank, say 5 gallons, mounted up high. If you plumb
your faucets to this tank, you’ll still have good control over your water
consumption. I’d build in the shower stall. But for the shower plumbing,
I’d lug a five-gallon bucket up onto the cabin deck and stuff a hose down
through the shower hatch. It isn’t hard to heat a pot of water on the
stove and mix up a bucketful to ju-u-ust the right temperature. Then while
you’re mixing up that bucket of water and testing it, and mixing and
testing it some more, you’ll be anticipating that shower. There aren’t too
many things that feel better than a spray of warm water chasing the chill
and the soap from your skin, while that cool morning air tumbles down
through the shower hatch, brewing up a thick batch of fog right there to
clean out your lungs. And once you’ve had a shower like that, all properly
anticipated and experienced, well after that, no other type of shower is
quite as good.
And now to go from the sublime to the ridiculous, let’s consider the head,
that least-loved and most depressing appliance aboard any boat. A plastic
bucket with a snap-on lid will do some folks for a long time. You could
dump it in the can every day at work and it wouldn’t have a chance to get
really nasty. If you go up river into the back woods, take along a spade
and you can dispose of it discretely ashore. They can keep those portable
potties, the plastic contraptions with a built-in tank. Ever empty one of
those things? If you finally do install a proper marine head, use the vent
detail shown for the black water tank. Vents for black water tanks
shouldn’t exit a boat on a vertical surface, like through the hull
topsides, because if they are done like that the vent exit must face the
wind at times. When that happens, a slight positive air pressure is
created inside the tank. If your head check valves don’t seal absolutely
perfectly …well, you get the idea. It can get pretty dismal inside the
boat. The vent detail shown works much better. Folks will think it’s an
antenna.
This business of overly complex systems is where most designs for larger
boats go wrong. You end up spending all your time and money trying to keep
things running. Think twice before you go for anything automatic or
electric or complicated. Try the simpler approaches for a while first.
Just as an example, a lot of liveaboards wish for an on-board washer and
drier, so they don’t have to hang around the laundromat. But I heard of an
old salt who had solved the vexing laundry problem his own way. Every
morning, he would meander down the dock to buy himself a newspaper and a
coffee. Then he’d stump back to his boat and sit out on deck. And while he
was reading his paper, sipping his coffee, and feeling the first rays of
the sun, he had one foot in a bucket, along with some warm fresh water and
detergent and his laundry from the day before. First he’d agitate with one
foot, then he’d agitate with the other, and the more the news agitated
him, the more he’d agitate his laundry. Judging by the news these days, he
must have had the cleanest feet in the marina. So until you come to terms
with what you really need, you might leave the interior paneling off. Then
after a while you can decide what wires and pipes and cables to run inside
the walls. You’ll know where the outlets ought to go too.
As she’s drawn here, Miss Katie has a good-sized saloon up forward. Suit
yourself, but I favor loose chairs instead of built-in sofas. It’s a more
flexible arrangement. A couple of padded wicker chairs and a table or two
that fold down against the wall will do very nicely. You’ll also want
three or four folding deck chairs on board. They’ll do double duty on deck
and below. The aft stateroom will be a snug refuge from the world’s
troubles. You’ll want a little natural light, but not too much. You might
put a window on one side, or maybe a couple of round portlights in the end
wall. I’ve sketched in a couple of bunks on one side, but furnish it the
way you want. You could build in two fixed upper bunks and two fixed
lowers. For me, I believe I’d have some drawers and bookshelves and a fold
down writing table on one side. Canvas sling-type pipe berths are good
enough for me, so I’d have a spot aboard to stow four of them rolled or
folded up. Then I’d put brackets to hold two pipe berths open in the aft
stateroom and two more in the saloon.
For heat at the dock, a couple of 1500 Watt portable electric heaters
might do the job. At anchor, I suppose it would be bulkhead-mounted
kerosene or propane heaters with proper flues through the house deck, one
in the saloon, and one in the aft stateroom. These will set you back a few
hundred dollars each, but they’re simple and effective. If you plan to
stick out the really cold stuff, better glue some foam board insulation
between the roof beams. You can cover it with textured white plastic
paneling and caulk around the edges to make it vapor tight. Better buy
double glazed windows too, if you’ll be where it’s cold.
Speaking of windows, Miss Katie uses regular house type sliders, with
black anodized aluminum frames. The windows that come with flanged frames
work well, because you can caulk behind the flanges nicely to seal them
against the siding. You can get these windows made any size you want, and
the price is right too. Naturally, because they aren’t real boat windows,
they don’t leak. Nothing is more disheartening on a boat than a rainwater
leak, especially one you can’t find, and that’s most of them. For safety,
buy the windows with tempered glass. Miss Katie is designed for coastal
and inland waters, not the roaring forties, and I think that tempered
glass of ordinary thickness is good enough. Unless you’re foolhardy, then
nothing’s good enough. If you want to go out farther than the weather
forecast allows, build a different boat, one that’s designed to be hit
with tons of green water.
A motor is a big cost of course. Miss Katie will gracefully accept an
outboard on her transom. A 15 hp long shaft four stroke with a high ratio
gear and a big prop would be a good choice. In calm water, that engine
should give you a cruise speed better than 6 knots on less than a gallon
an hour. An old 9.9 hp two stroke would move her too, just not as quickly,
as quietly, or as economically. If you mount the outboard on the stern,
you’ll have to cut the transom down in way of the motor. You could stand
back there with a tiller extension and see over the cabin easily. Why not
store the gasoline in plastic tanks secured on deck? Now that’s about as
simple and safe a set up as you can get.
But some folks can’t abide the look of an outboard hanging on the stern,
and for them fitting a motor into the optional well is worthwhile. By
raising the aft deck, we can just get the motor below it. For some motors,
you might need to fit a very low box on deck. You’ll want a motor with
electric start, rigged with cable controls and steering. It’s a
particularly neat arrangement, but the extra trouble and expense are
considerable, and we lose some storage space too, so before deciding we
had better think the thing through. Besides looks, there are some
practical reasons for this arrangement. The noise level will be lower. And
if you’ll be doing a lot of cruising, having a proper sit-down helm in the
saloon would be very nice, especially in cold weather. Another good
feature of the well is that when you tangle with a pot warp or weeds, you
can clear the prop without hanging out over the transom. A clear stern is
an advantage for close quarters handling too.
It’s a tough call, but however you decide to mount your motor, make sure
you can tilt it clear of the water when you’re not using it. If you don’t,
you’ll be sorry. Outboards kept in salt water inevitably corrode. Marine
growth is a real headache too. If you can tip your motor clear of the
water, you’ve got those problems beat. I guess you could wait quite a
while before you get a motor. Most places, you don’t need to register or
license a boat that doesn’t have an engine. Wouldn’t it be fun to remind
the local water cops about that? Maybe someday when you’re flush with
cash, you’ll build a little lunch bucket tug to push her. Or maybe you’ll
come up with a tender that will do an adequate job as a yawl boat.
Handling Miss Katie around docks shouldn’t be too bad. Try the sweep shown
in the drawing. Make it yourself and it won’t cost $10. You’ll find it
handy once in a while as a bowthruster. It also makes a dandy backing
rudder when going astern. Rig an oarlock aft too, so you’ll have a rudder
when you’re being towed.
Wait a minute here…you could put oarlocks on the gunwales forward and aft
too. Hey! Why not have fittings for as many as what, maybe ten more
oarsmen on the house deck? And eight more oars poked through the saloon
and stateroom walls! 22 galley slaves, each putting out 1/2 horsepower
under threat of a severe lashing. Let’s see here, that’s…ummm… a total of
11 hp. If we chuck out the ballast we could win Dragon Boat races… Ah,
maybe not. They’d be all sweaty and nasty. Gruntin’ and fartin’ and
complainin’ all the time… Better disregard the last nine sentences,
everything after “Wait a minute here…” Sorry about that, Shipmates.
Sometimes my wee mind slips a bit. Anyway, back to more mundane matters.
Now where were we? Ah, yes, pretending to be L. Francis Herreshoff…
Rig an oarlock aft, so you’ll have a rudder when you’re being towed.
There’s a healthy rub rail all round the boat, great for springing around
pilings. You’ll be very glad it’s there. She’s too narrow a boat to
sacrifice the room for side decks, but the cabin roof is low enough that
we can put some of the cleats for dock lines up there. The ladder makes it
easy to get topside from the aft deck. I might try a single folding step
on the forward cabin wall, because it’s only three feet from the forward
bulwark to the house deck. But if that’s awkward, build a ladder there
too. There’s a big hatch in the foredeck, lots of room for fenders, lines,
and anchors. There’s storage below deck aft too. Make sure you build the
man-sized gutters around the hatches. Don’t forget the drip strips under
the hatch covers, and you should never get a drop of water in her shallow
bilge. Follow the leak proofing details religiously, and you won’t get
leaks into the cabin either. I guess if you really must have that musty
“eau de bilge water” ambiance that so many boats have, you could hose down
the interior every week, and keep her closed up all the time. Don’t know
if I’d bother, myself. Although I suppose if you went with that galley
slave idea you might have to sluice them down, once in a while anyway…
So that’s Miss Katie, a roomy and steady barge that will make folks smile.
She’ll handle a pretty fair chop, and lie quietly at anchor. She’ll slip
under the railway bridge, over the shallows, and nose up to the beach.
Trade a few favors for a tow, push her with an outboard kicker, haul her
overland with a truck, or just keep her at the dock or on the hook. Keep
the systems simple, take time to smell the roses, keep your sense of humor
intact, and life afloat will be good.
Bio:
Paul Browne is an engineer, believe it or not a businessman, and
most of all, an all-round boat nut. For now he and his Resident Love
Goddess live close to Tampa, Florida. He keeps his boat, the “Icebreaker
Danielle” in a wet slip at the mouth of the Palm River. Paul plans to
retire next year, or at least take a long sabbatical. After that happens
nobody’s sure where he’ll be, although he’s been heard mumbling something
about canals and Europe.
Drawings:
Misc:
Spreadsheet Data
DXF Drawing
.hul file
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