After several successful projects using my new heavy duty Sailrite sewing machine, I was presented with just the right opportunity for my first foray into sailmaking: My buddy Osman was making a dinghy in his garage and he needed some propulsion.
Like me, Osman is a professional classical musician who loves to work with his hands. On one of our gigs together I told him about the new Sailrite LSZ-1 sewing machine I'd acquired and he told me how he was fulfilling a longtime dream and building his own boat. The next time we got together, he handed over a copy of "The Sailmaker's Apprentice" by Emiliano Marino, a very thorough accounting of traditional sailmaking, with pictures and in-depth information. He had bought the book in the hopes of learning how to make a sail for his new dinghy, but after reading the first chapter he realized that might be too much. That part of his dream was being passed over to me.
I opened the book to find the first chapter contained an assignment: sew a ditty bag. As you worked on various parts of the bag, you would learn the different techniques for joining panels of fabric, sewing patches, splicing line, making grommets and more. When the task was done, you would have a bag to hold your sailmaking tools. I was hooked, and the ditty bag was quickly started and finished. I called Osman and we set a date to see the boat.
ADAM GONZALEZAfter a spirited family debate, the author picked a color scheme -- red and yellow.EYE ON THE PRIZE
On the appointed day, with great pride, he took me out to his garage to show me the subject of all the fuss: a half-finished stitch and glue affair of plywood and epoxy that measures 11 feet. With the kind of enthusiasm only two middle-aged, nautically-obsessed men are capable of, we gave the boat a thorough inspection and pored over the plans.The designers suggested a spritsail rig. Not being familiar with this design, I consulted the book.
According to Marino, a spritsail rig puts the mast far forward, like a cat boat, but it has no boom at the bottom of the sail. Instead it has a sprit (or boom) that runs diagonally from near the bottom of the mast to a point high overhead, which the top (or head) of the sail hangs on. This design gives you a fair amount of canvas relative to the boat's size and keeps the boom out of the small cockpit.
Armed with this basic knowledge, Osman and I went to my favorite hangout: Bacon and Associates in Annapolis. This is a boat-parts consignment operation with loads of stuff for the do-it-yourself set. We found a spritsail rig made of aluminum that would match Osman's boat, brought it to his house and strategized about how the rig would work. After a spirited family discussion, a color scheme was chosen – alternating red and yellow – and I put in an order at Sailrite. After choosing a basic rig from the web site, I spoke with Jeff Frank, Sailrite's in-house sail designer, and we customized the order, including all the hardware and tools I would need. Total cost: $251.94. One week later the order arrived on my doorstep.
GETTING STARTED
I opened the box and looked at its contents: rolled up pre-cut fabric, pre-cut patches for the corners, luff tape, basting tape (two sided), grommets and a die set to install them, and a spool of thread. Also included were a small sail bag kit, a computer-drawn illustration of the completed sail with all parts clearly labeled, and a thorough 21 page step-by-step instruction manual. I laid all the parts out on the floor, checked them off the list and read through the instructions several times. Then I started sewing.
The sail panels are made of 4-ounce Dacron. I set the tension, spacing and length of the zig-zag stitch on the machine and ran several tests using the scraps included until I was satisfied.
There are four corners on a spritsail and each receive a grommet, so each needs a patch to keep the material from tearing under load. Each patch consists of three layers of Dacron of increasing size. Each layer is stuck in place using ¼ inch wide basting tape. Each piece of fabric is labeled with a sticker, and all seams and hem lines are marked in ink. I would begin by attaching the two reinforcement patches to the rear-most panel of the sail, one at the top (peak) and one at the bottom (clew).
Moving from smallest to largest patch piece, I stuck each layer on. When all three were in position, I ran a zig-zag stitch over the edge of each layer (the material is thin enough to see the edges through the top panel.) The basting tape kept everything in place, so no pins were required. Next, I attached the patch at the tack or lower forward most corner of the sail. The patch at the throat (the part at the top of the mast) would wait, because I would have to join two panels together first, then apply the patch over the joint.
OSMAN KIVRAKThe author completes the job.
I then attached the two largest panels of the sail together with basting tape. After a few failed attempts I got the hang of it and moved along swiftly. In the old days, sailmakers would use a technique called broadseaming, where the edges of each panel would overlap more at the bottom of the sail than in the middle. This gives the sail some shape so it moves the wind more efficiently over its surface. Sailrite had precut the panels to do this, so all I had to do was line up the edge of one panel with the hemline drawn on the other. I ran the panels through the machine and was excited to see the results. After an hour or so, I'd sewn each of the five panels together – and it began to look like a real sail!
FINISHING UP
A few days later I sewed in the remaining patches: where the sail would attach at the top of the mast (the throat), and a brail patch on the back (leech) of the sail. It's handy to have a way to gather up the sail when launching or landing the boat, so the canvas and lines aren't spread all over the cockpit. Enter the brail line. This rope goes up the mast, hangs across the sail to a ring (grommet) half way down the leech and returns to the mast. When you want to gather – or reef – the sail you pull on the brail line and it pulls the leech of the sail to the mast. This also works well when launching: Your sail is rigged to the mast and everything is ready, but the sail is gathered up until you're ready to start sailing. Just loosen the brail line and you're under way.
After the last patches were installed. I moved on to the hems around the edges of the sail. The sail comes with a half-inch "seam allowance" printed on the sail. I folded a double seam: first folding the raw edge of the sail to the line, then folding the whole thing over again into the panel. This seam overlaps all raw fabric ends so they won't unravel. I ran a zig-zag stitch over the folded fabric for a finished edge. I did this again for the bottom (foot) and top (head) of the sail. The front (luff) of the sail got a different treatment.
Included in the kit was an 8 foot long section of 5-ounce Dacron tape, 3 inches wide, folded in half lengthwise. This went over the luff of the sail for reinforcement – 8 grommets would be installed through this – and for protection from rubbing up against the mast. I basted, attached and then stitched the luff tape in place. My sewing was done!
The next day I applied the grommets. These rings are located at the corners of the sail where the various lines were to be attached, and down the front of the sail where it attaches to the mast. I located the holes using a template made from a business card so, the holes would be accurate and consistent. I used a hole punch from a grommet set I'd bought from Home Depot for another project. Sailrite included all the #2 stainless steel spur grommets needed, and I set them using the die set. The sail finished, I made quick work of a small bag for storage, and the job was complete.
Overall, I had spent about six hours of pleasant work on the sail and had a handsome product to show for it. I presented the sail to Osman the next evening when we met for a job together. Again, the enthusiasm caught hold – we had jammed up traffic as we spread the sail out in the parking lot.
