Making a steering wheel.

The Morgan 4/4 already had a wood steering wheel the Mota Lita but it is really substantially aluminium alloy with only the rim made of wood and that is plywood with little intrinsic strength, having laminations that are radial and so adding no rigidity.
A recent wandering through a classic car show sparked the idea, seeing a 1914 Hupmobile with its wooden spoked wheels and a crude wooden steering wheel that has stood the test of time.
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Having already made a few wheels for toys for my young grandchildren I knew it could be done for the Morgan and set about the job with a wooden mould onto which the timber would be built up in laminations approximately 1/16th in thick. Cascamite resin glue was used for the outer rim and its a sticky job requiring glove protection for my hands.
Firstly the laminations are cut and planed to size and steam softened over boiling water in a pan. Allowed to cool and held to the mould with crocodile clamps. The tricky bit is ensuring full contact between the layers. There are probably better methods than mine such as vacuum bagging or wrapping with string to exert sufficient pressure. But this was to be a prototype and seems to have succeeded but admittedly, could be bettered.

Spokes most of which were rejects. Note the sharpened one drove through the redwood plank.

Hub and rim moulds

The outer rim is easier to fabricate than the inner hub because the clamping has more space to fix the clips. For the hub I resorted to laminating the outer layer free of the mould; after setting, the inner laminations were inserted and clamped from the inside as they naturally expanded to meet the surface of the outer layer. The ends of all the layers were feathered at both ends and tapered so that there were no but-ends or gaps. Once completed the two rings were lined up and marked out for drilling. Holes go into the outer rim from the inside approximately ⅓ in deep so as not to penetrate through to the outside. The inner hub was drilled to the full depth so that the spokes could be inserted from the centre of the circle and out through to the rim.
Spokes were cut from mature bamboo and approximately 3/32 in diameter. Each one drove through a suitably drilled hole in a piece of steel bar to ensure they were of a similar size.
Finally, the whole thing was sanded smooth and a coat of linseed oil applied. If you are not sure of the strength of bamboo to make spokes I can confirm that it is more than adequate, having driven a sharpened test spoke through a 1 ¼” plank without any harm to the wooden “nail”. 

With the steering wheel now in place, I am delighted with the result and tested with a drive out to Bristol. Further drives around Devonshire including Dartmoor and the narrow lanes have confirmed the wheel to be a success. Lighter in weight and more sensitive to the way a Morgan gives back road surface feeling. 

Also fabricated is a new gear stick knob to match the wooden dash, replacing the alloy one that was cold to the touch.

For previous attempts at wheel building, see earlier post: Balance Bike

A punt gun goes Bang

My father was a wildfowler outside office hours. That is to say at weekends, some weekdays and many a night, alone or in the company of like-minded souls of a sporting nature. His father and two of his brothers would often accompany him and many, many hours would be spent in pursuit of wildfowl on the Exe Estuary.
This was not a sport with rigid rules but more of hunting instincts, stalking a living prey for reward,
the meat, the kudos, cash and accolade amongst his friends over a pint or two.
My early childhood saw some of the drama of this almost obsessive pursuit of pleasure. Not always a happy experience and one or two occasions quite frightening.
What brings me to tell this brief true story of misfortune or blessing is the recent interest shown by a new generation of wildfowlers that somehow seem to have awareness of the prowess of my father's skill in the field and I have had cause to delve a little deeper into some old notes he kept on the flyleaves of an old book on the subject.

On the 23rd of February 1940 he records at 2.30pm off Exminster he shot 7 Brent Geese, but at 4.30 his punt gun exploded at Greenland, a large mudflat off Exminster in the middle of the Exe Estuary.
He records that his father Lionel came to his rescue and towed him ashore to Woodbury Station -actually, it was the Exton Railway station which is right on the opposite Estuary side to the Turf Locks Hotel. From there he would have accompanied him to RD&E Hospital. (His father would presumably have been waiting at the Turf to drive him home or possible he had been alerted by a shout from there and rowed out to the rescue ).
A month later father records that he was discharged from the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital and retrieved the punt, but the now damaged punt gun was "chucked overboard"; exactly where is not revealed, but my memory seems to tell me of having read somewhere that it was off Lympstone.
The punt was holed but would have been repairable and presumably, he was headed back to the Dawlish Warren creek where the punt was normally hauled out onto the mud beside the railway line at Cockwood.
Today the scene is quiet, pictured here in high summer from Exton Station.

Looking south-west

Under the rail viaduct

Looking towards Exmouth from the station

Looking towards Topsham

Turf Hotel in the middle distance

Father's notes record the accident

A similar punt with breach loader gun. Father's gun was an older type of muzzleloader

Ply Dinghy Completion

Six months of work has, at last, come together in one beautiful craft fit for purpose. Some pottering, a little fishing venturing along some of Devon's Estuaries, and even some waterborne photography when the light is right.
The inside is varnished with Epiphanes clear and the outside hull finished in Epoxy clear resin (Sicomin 5550 using a medium-fast hardener). She has three flotation bags, a pair of oars and helmsman with plenty of local experience of messing about in boats; what could possibly go wrong after so many hours of labour.
Helen is, even now, against my plans for some waterborne enjoyment and shows little inclination to join me on the water. However, I do have one or two good friends happy to come fishing even though I am no real fisherman.
Now about to add a winch to my road trailer that will ease recovery from the water, even though the weight is not much over 90K with the Seagull 40+ outboard in place.

Off Teignmouth, South Devon

One very nice Bass

Something nice for supper

A professional boatbuilder would probably not have indulged in such methods as I have over the choice of woods and construction. He would struggle to justify the time. The transom alone consists of twenty separate pieces of wood whereas the normal way would be to cut that out from just two pieces of plank. 

Launch Time

Staithes & Runswick Bay

Surf spots found by son William lead him to far away places we should see;  thats what we have been doing today. Delightful little fishing villages nestling between cliffs and stradling streams that have made natural harbours.  When the storm swell rises and the surf is high William parks his camper van at the top of the hill to clamber down the steep cliff path.
Wandering through these places today was a delight. Sitting in the sun nibbling crab sandwiches tea and ice cream. Gardens in full blossom. Gull chicks on every other rooftop.

The Cobble high and dry at low tide

Looking towards the lifeboat station

Captain Cook hailed from these parts

Spot the gull chicks

Gardens in full blossom and full sun

Whitby Fish & Chip Sunday

The Magpie restaurant comes highly recommended and its certainly popular. With a queue waiting by 11am for opening time. We wait and make for an upstairs table overlooking the harbour to get served within five minutes. So many day trippers thronging the narrow streets and piling into vessels to circuit the harbour and coastline this fine weather. Bikers in leathers walking bow legged, hot and flushed in the heat,  focusing on the railway station cafe.
Stopping there in the carpark we get hustled in by a bevy of revvy bikes impatiently following behind.
A walk along the breakwater to the lighthouse rewards us with some lovely views of the coastline and beach where three donkeys give children rides and a lady patrols the sand with a pooper-skooper bucket. In the distance we see a quieter cove and make our way north a mile or so for more wanderings,  tea and cake. Parking charges are higher here than in Devon but not to worry!
Two more days to spend around the coast,  delighted with our new Airbnb. A converted barn amidst farmland down a narrow lane, well secluded and quite spacious. 

Try as I might, the task of persuading Helen to let me call in to a metal suppliers is met with hostile negatives, and it looks as if I shall have to get the metal keel strips for my dinghy build back home in Devon. Up here it is available at a very reasonable price  off the shelf and I try to mollify Helen with the promise of a stainless steel cooker splash back but still no agreement is forthcoming.