Cutting the Keel

Once all the individual pieces of the backbone were cut out and shaped, it was time to cut the keel. I had been saving this largest and most critical of timbers for last, so that I might benefit from the experience gained in cutting out all the others. The length of this piece meant that any mistake in measuring or executing the cuts would require re-purchasing a very expensive piece of wood, and I wanted to stack the deck as much in my favor as possible. There's no delaying the inevitable, though. Eventually, if I wanted to have a boat, I was going to have to take a saw to this gorgeous monolith of timber:

So it was that on August 10th, having scrupulously marked out the center line and the half breaths of the keel at every station, I called up Dad and invited him down to observe what promised to be one of the more momentous milestones in Astraea's construction so far. He also brought his circular saw, which can cut deeper than mine, and therefore would make things a little bit easier on the Prazi chainsaw attachment. The plan was to make a single cut with the circular saw 1/4" outside the lines, and then follow along that with the chainsaw, whose wider kerf would bring the keel to within 1/8" of its final sided dimension. That was the theory, anyway–now it was time to see how it worked in practice. With my heart in my throat, I spun up the blade.

Halfway through the first cut; looking good so far!

Tracing the line back on the port side:

Both guide cuts complete:

 Now it was time to bring out the big guns:

Following along the three-inch deep circular saw cut, the Prazi chainsaw attachment allowed me to rough out the port side of the keel. Angelique is so hard, however, that I had to regularly spray the chain with WD40 to keep it from overheating. Even that, however, only bought me time. Every two yards or so, I had to stop cutting, disassemble the saw, and give the chain to Dad for him to sharpen.

While he sharpened the dull chain, I would install the fresh one and saw another yard or two, then disassemble the saw again, grab the now-sharpened chain, and repeat the process. We also had to pause twice to adjust the position of the 6x6 sleepers supporting the keel stock, so that we didn't cut through them as well as the piece itself. Here, the port side has finally been freed from its wooden prison:

...and here I am starting the starboard side cut:

As the afternoon wore on, the chains grew more and more tired, the daylight faded, and progress seemed to go exponentially slower. Eventually, however, with the last gasps of twilight, we completed the cut. For the last three feet or so, dad was standing over me as I sawed, illuminating my guide lines with a flashlight. My hands were tingling and almost numb from the continuous vibration of the chainsaw against the nearly rock-hard timber, but the keel, the most massive and daunting of all the backbone timbers, was finally free.

"Okay," I said to Dad, surveying the assembled jumble of boat parts as we began picking up our tools from the day's work, "I guess it's time to start putting them all together, now, huh?!?"