A story about a mast that refused to stay ashore.
There’s a quiet kind of satisfaction in a boatyard when something old finds its way back into purpose.
This week, Mike has been working on a mast from an old boat called Braw Lads. She was a bigger vessel than we are building, and her days of ocean adventures have come to an end. Broken up in the yard, her timbers stacked and scattered, she might easily have been forgotten.
But not quite.
Instead of letting that mast disappear into scrap, Mike brought it home to Gwennel. What followed has been one of those slow, steady boatbuild jobs that doesn’t shout for attention, but rewards you if you stop and watch.
First, he squared it off — a solid, stubborn length of timber becoming something workable again. Then eight sides. Then sixteen. Each pass shaving it closer to a curve. And finally, after careful planing and sanding, it came round — a smooth, strong boom taking shape beneath his hands.
There’s something deeply satisfying about that kind of upcycle. Not rushed. Not wasteful. Just time, skill, and a respect for the material.
We’ve saved a tree in the process, and made something beautiful for a fraction of the cost of new wood. But more than that, it feels like a continuation.
Because while Braw Lads won’t see the ocean again, a part of her will.
When we finally set sail and slip out into open water, that boom will be there above us, carrying the sail, catching the wind, and quietly continuing a story that didn’t quite end in the yard.
It feels fitting, somehow.
A small piece of one boat, joining another, for a different kind of slow adventure.
And I think that’s what this whole journey has become — not just building a boat, but gathering stories along the way.
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