Boat Sewing Projects – An Introduction

I sew.  And I don’t just sew occasionally; I sew poorly.  Vodka has little to do with it, I swear.

I’m in charge of most of the fabric repair and construction projects on this here boat, but do not be deceived:  GB is very good at both needle-and-thread work and sewing machine work, especially if it involves an industrial-grade machine with a one-horsepower motor.  Example of how good he is at hand-stitiching:  In September/October 2001, when we took a 2200-mile training voyage aboard Orange Coast College’s Alaska Eagle from Easter Island to Chile, we encountered a rather sporty low pressure system in the South Pacific.  Long story short, the first boarding wave took out the fabric dodger because the sun had weakened the threads of the seams; while one crew member braced GB’s kiester with his feet, and I held together the many layers of the dodger with both hands as the great Richard Crowe himself steered us up & down 30+-foot waves, GB sewed the dodger back together.  AT NIGHT. BY HAND.  Bonus:  his stitching was so good the Eagle didn’t have to re-sew the dodger when we later put in to port.

Since GB took dibs on the heavy-weather emergency canvas projects, I got everything else.  Difficulty:  I’m expected to make everything I sew, look good.  Oh dear.

I have had three formal sewing class-type events in my life.  When I was in high school and playing on the junior varisty tennis team, my Mom (a very fine seamstress of no small repute) thought it would be a good idea if I took a home ec class – without which she was convinced I’d never learn to feed myself or repair any torn clothes, thus consigning myself to a hobo’s life.  So I took home ec and learned to boil water for Top Ramen, and sew a straight seam – the better to hem my hippie blue jeans.  For 25 years that’s all I needed to know.  At some point during the late 70s/early 80s, my aunt (as fine a seamstress as her sister, my Mom) kindly gave me her Eisenhower-era Domestic brand sewing machine when she bought something more contemporary.  I owned that 40-pound Domestic (and periodically used it to hem my hippie blue jeans); but In my ignorance I never once cleaned it, oiled it or had it tuned.  I doubt my dear auntie had, either.  That poor Domestic.

The second exposure to textile education came from sailmaker Carol Hasse and her weekend sail repair class in the late 90s (or so).  If you are ever in Port Townsend, Washington, go to Carol’s class.  Carol is an exemplary person, business owner and instructor, and her crew at the sail loft are all first rate.  Plus, she has some of those one-Hp sewing machines I mentioned earlier, and it’s a blast to test drive one of them without sewing your hand to your fabric project with the needle going 90mph.  I learned a lot from Carol’s class and had a great time.  Too bad I have such little talent.

My poor put-upon Domestic sewing machine only compounded my incompetence.  Once I got involved in boat projects it just wasn’t the proper tool for the job; it couldn’t handle the multiple, conflicting layers of Sunbrella, plastic, and piping I was trying to cram through at one go.  I had a whole lot of slippage, broken needles, tangled bobbin thread goin’ on — you name it.  GB then decided it was time for a new approach – and for Christmas of 2004, he got me a Pfaff 1525.  It’s Pfaff’s basic model intended for noobs and morons – in other words, just right for me.  Its major feature – aside from its fine construction and design – is the Integrated Dual Feed behind the presser foot (or what I call the Walking Foot).  It walks all over multiple, incompatible layers of fabric and what-not, and never doth the bobbin thread snag.  Sweet.

My third and most recent sewing instruction was a one-hour, how-to, welcome-to-your-Pfaff class the retailer arranged at their store.  And yes; for the likes of me, it was worthwhile.  In addition to this hi-how-are-ya class and Pfaff’s instruction manual, I’ve invested in Karen Lipe’s The Big Book of Boat Canvas (1988), and Jim Grant’s The Complete Canvasworker’s Guide (second edition, 1992).  That’s my sewing-educational resume.  Yep.

So both with the Domestic (may it be happy wherever it now may be) and the Pfaff (viva Pfaff!), I have sewn boat projects large and small.  To a greater or lesser degree of success.  On the boat.  While living aboard.  They include:

Mesh bag in anchor locker or salt water wash-down hose.

2 sail bags:  Sunbrella turtle for gennaker; and Sunbrella sail-sausage (actually, more of a burrito) for staysail.

No-see-um bug screens for 2 deck hatches and companionway.

Sunbrella winch cover and winch cover repairs.

Sunbrella cover strips for exposed Velcro areas of cockpit cover (because we’ve learned the hard way that even in the dim, poorly-lit Pacific NW, Velcro hooks and wool live forever, but their fabric backing lasts about 2 years before being detroyed by sunlight and salt water).

Sunbrella cover for outboard motor handle.

Sunbrella cover for US flag & stern staff.

Mesh & Sunbrella pocket for fiberglass pocket insert (the better to secure small items near the helm while underway).

Sacrificial canvas spillage-avoidance cover for galley carpet.

Elasticized table cloth/cover for salon table.

Cover & pad for liquor locker.

Assorted padded bags & covers for TV screen and small electronics for stowage while underway.

Where I can recall the details & have photos of the finished products that aren’t utterly embarrassing, I totally promise to share them with all of cyberspace.  You guys are SO lucky to be able to experience what a good sewing machine can do in the hands of a rank amateur.