Bringing Home Matt Kirk's "Laurel Dory"

Matt Kirk was a participant in two of my community boatbuilding projects in 1990 and 1991.

After completing school, and establishing himself in a career, he contacted me in 2002 about building a rowing dory for himself. The design for the "Laurel" dory, which was still in development, suited his needs. The boat he built under my direction was the prototype for this new design. It was finished early in 2003.

Since I like to give a new design a thorough sea trial, I suggested a winter delivery jaunt along the coast, and Matt accepted with only the slightest hesitation. On Friday, February 7 the prototype of the "Laurel" dory made her maiden voyage from Davis Bay where my shop is, to Grantham's Landing where Matt lives. The dory is built of fir plywood planking, with douglas fir, yellow cedar, red cedar, maple, and a bit of mahogany used for structure and trim. She is varnished in a wide band along the sheer outside, with the lower sides and bottom painted forest green. Matt had not yet finished making his own oars, so we borrowed two sets and intended to row double for the whole 13-14 mile trip.

The boat was dollied to the beach at Davis Bay as the morning fog brightened - it was still dark at 8 am. We launched at 8:30am with frost on the ground, light fog in the air, and no wind. A light swell was rolling lazily in from the Strait. After 20 minutes of taking photographs and fiddling about with gear, we headed South-east along the Sunshine Coast. We crossed the bar at Mission Point well inshore to save ourselves the detour around the small breakers and big boulders where the bar extends seaward, easing through inside them in 4 to 5 inches of water even with us two big guys and all our gear aboard.

Under four 7-1/2-foot oars the dory fairly flew along, requiring a very rapid stroke to keep up with her eagerness, and in less than an hour we had covered the first 4 miles. Rowing double this way is great fun, but 8-1/2 foot oars or longer are required to fully use the power of two men. Oars that long would be awkward to row with solo against a strong headwind, however - the 8-foot oars Matt is building will be a good compromise for rowing under various conditions of weather and crewing.
We were soon past the mouth of Wilson Creek and making good time.
One of the sets of borrowed oars had crummy stamped-steel clamp-on oarlocks which came loose and could not be repaired without a wrench. We continued under a single pair of oars, taking turns rowing for the rest of the trip. A light breeze had risen, and it swung around indecisively for an hour or so before settling in as a light tailwind. As we rowed by Henderson Beach, Harry Terillon came out of his beachfront house and hailed us, asking if we were bound for Nanaimo again? "Not today, Harry."

Past the Roberts Creek jetty, we beached briefly to stretch our legs and trade rowing positions, and then set out again. The fog persisted, usually hanging ten to twenty feet above the water, occasionally closing in and hiding the land so that we held a straight course by watching the wake behind us. The temperature was now well above freezing, and climbing steadily.

At 11 o'clock we were at Camp Byng when the traditional-type leather collar began to come off another borrowed oar, making it more difficult to position it correctly, and costing us some time as we fooled around with the unravelling collar before removing it entirely. We now had a 10-15 mph quartering tailwind and a following sea that urged us along smartly, and showed that the boat handled nicely under these conditions. The fog had risen to a low ceiling, and there were occasional glories of sunlight visible out in the straits. We put ashore at Bonniebrook in the mouth of Chaster Creek, stretched again, and used a piece of lashing line to make a rough turk's-head for an oar-collar, which worked well for the rest of the trip. Pulling out of Chaster Creek to Gower Point put us on a stiff cross-wind and cross-waves course in shallow water that would have shown up any handling difficulties or hull imbalance, but the dory was fine.

With a fresh oarsman we hauled quickly around Gower Point and ran past Secret Beach and Salmon Rock as the sun broke out of the clouds. The waves and wind disappeared as we entered Shoal Channel and rounded the knob into Gibson's harbour in full, hot sun with the snow-capped mountains in glory around us. We stretched our legs on the beach, stripped off our coats and sweaters, and I took to the sternsheets so that Matt could row his own boat triumphantly into the wharf at Grantham's Landing.

As we pulled toward the boat-ramp, I recognised a sexy figure on the shore - although I had not seen her in four or five years I knew her almost instantly by her jaunty sheer and sharply raked stems. I had designed her, and built her ten years ago, with a group of friends. That sixteen-foot dory, a different design from the one we rowed today, had once kept me and companion Gerry Wright alive in storm-force winds on Georgia Strait for six gruelling hours before we could regain safe shelter.

Matt and I put his new dory ashore in Grantham's at 1:00 pm. The trip had taken 4 hours and ten minutes to cover over 13 miles. Subtracting the 1/2 hour or so spent in rests and oar repairs, this gives an average speed of about 3-1/2 mph - a very creditable speed for a boat this size, especially considering that it was rowed single for most of the way. Matt and I were both very pleased with her performance and handling. Like a horse, once home she was wiped down, dried off, and curried clean and shining again, ready for the next trip.