“Popo” Outrigger Canoes of the Central Caroline Islands

Flying proas of the Caroline Islands, from Adm. Paris. (click any image to enlarge)

In 1983 and 1984, Steve Thomas, who would later host the television series This Old House, lived intermittently on the tiny atoll of Satawal in the central Caroline Islands, an experience he documented in the book The Last Navigator: A Young Man, An Ancient Mariner, The Secrets of the Sea. While there, he lived with and studied under Mau Piailug, a master of the traditional Micronesian art and science of navigation, who had previously gained notoriety as the navigator on the early voyages of Hokule’a (which, as a Polynesian double canoe, was quite a different craft from the single-outrigger canoes of Micronesia to which he was accustomed).

A proa from Satawal (From the cover of The Last Navigator, by Steve Thomas)

The Last Navigator is a good book, an engaging, sensitively-written memoir of a young man attempting to learn about and fit into a very different society – in this case, one whose traditional, preindustrial culture was under extreme pressure from the forces of modernization and Westernization. While it contained what I suspect might be some valuable ethnographic observations and a good general description of traditional Micronesian methods of navigation (for a detailed explanation, see We, The Navigators: The Ancient Art of Landfinding in the Pacific, by David Lewis), it is scanty on information about the boats of Satawal and their construction.

Micronesia was home to a great number of outrigger canoe types – so great that James Hornell, in The Canoes of Polynesia, Fiji, and Micronesia, devoted many pages documenting separately those of the Carolines, the Marshalls, the Gilberts, the Marianas, and certain other of the region’s smaller groups and individual islands. Even within the central Carolines, there was too much variation between islands for it to be practical to document every differentiating detail, necessitating some generalization of a “western and central Caroline” type. Since I came to the subject of the central Carolines canoe by way of The Last Navigator, this post focuses, to the extent possible, on boats most like those that appear on Satawal, and relies on Hornell’s generalizations for a more encompassing view.

Flying proa or popo of the Caroline Islands. (From Hornell, after Paris) 

The ocean-voyaging canoes of Satawal are “flying proas” of a type which, according to Hornell, were called popos. Like almost all single-outrigger craft of the Pacific, they always sail with the outrigger to windward, using the outrigger float for stability in light or no air and as a counterbalance – supplemented by crew weight – against the force of higher winds. As such, popos are shunting craft, with identical ends that alternately serve as the bow and stern as the boat changes direction relative to the wind.

Notable differences in canoe design existed between the main island groups of Micronesia, as shown in this comparison of proas from the western and central Carolines (left) and the Marshall Islands (right). (Kubary)

Among the most distinctive characteristic of the popo are:

• a narrow, deep hull with identical ends but lateral asymmetry, in which the windward side is much less curved than the leeward. In fact, on some boats, the windward side of the hull is nearly a flat plane.
• hull construction of stitched planks on a dugout base
• a platform extending from the hull on the lee side, opposite the outrigger
• an oceanic lateen rig, consisting of a single triangular sprit sail hung from a mast stepped exactly amidships that pivots fore-and-aft with each shunt, allowing the sail’s direction and its center of effort to shift ends (not, however, without some complex evolutions on the part of the crew)

When Thomas lived on Satawal, Piailug was in the process of building a popo 33’ feet long and 8’ high from the keel to the “eyes” at the ends. This was the largest canoe built there in living memory, most others being around 26’ or 27’ long. According to Hornell, the canoes present in the central Carolines early in the twentieth century were smaller than those of the nineteenth, so lengths in the mid-thirty-foot range and, judging from Paris's drawings, even longer, may have been common in the past.

Hull Form and Construction

End, plan and section views of the Caroline proa (Hornell, after Paris)

On Yap, in the western Carolines, and a few other islands were large trees were available,

...all but the upper part of the sides and the two curved heads are hewn from a single log. In atolls where no large timber is available the dugout portion shrinks to a wedge-shaped piece channeled longitudinally on the upper side so as to give two everted edges upon which the garboard strakes are sewn.... Usually the shapes and sizes of the strake planks are irregular, suitable wood being too precious in atolls to permit either of long running lengths or of adzing opposite edges parallel. So the hull in these islands is a mass of patchwork, all, however, fitted together with remarkable accuracy. (Hornell)

Paris's plan and construction views on which Hornell's illustrations are based. (Source: Wikipedia. Thanks to Walter Stanish for uploading this version of the image and alerting me to it.)

According to Thomas, the hull timber was breadfruit or “a mahoganylike tree called rugger...” from which the keel was hewn and the planks were split. Thomas describes how a chainsaw was used to fell the tree for the keel of Piailug’s new boat. The chainsaw was a fairly unfamiliar tool on Satawal at the time, and few of the men knew how to use it. After the “blade-like legs” of the breadfruit were cut through and the tree was felled, limbed, and cut to its desired length, the log for the keel was 6’ in diameter and 30’ long. With the chainsaw, a couple of operators performed the process in one morning “what usually took six men more than a day” to perform with axes.

Thomas does not describe how planks were split or otherwise gotten out, but it is clear that adzes were used to shape all the timbers. The hull has two end pieces cut from solid timber, each of which attaches at an end of the keel and extends upward as a cutwater and stem “and ends throughout the western and central Carolines in a peculiar and most characteristic fork” (Hornell).

No plans or standard measuring devices are used in shaping the hull, the builders working instead by eye and by a series of proportions or ratios between various of the boat’s features. (For example: height of the mast equals length of the hull; length of the outrigger is one half the length of the hull. Thomas.) Regarding the pronounced asymmetry of the hull, Hornell explains that is counteracts the asymmetrical resistance imposed by the single outrigger, allowing the boat to travel straight with minimal steering input when the float is in the water.

Planks are added to the keel to build up the hull’s freeboard with, as Hornell says, “little or no need to fit strengthening frames and this is not the custom in the Carolines.... Adequate stiffness is obtained when necessary by the insertion of solid bulkheads or partitions beneath the transverse supports of the lee platform.” Stiffness is increased further with heavy thwarts and gunwales.

Thomas stated that Piailug, in building his new boat, lashed the planks together temporarily, but Thomas did not explain why. Perhaps it was not enough to ensure that each individual plank fitted properly against its neighbors but that, instead, the entire hull had to be test-assembled to ensure good fits. The wood of the cross-beams (i.e., thwarts) that Piailug wished to install was too tough to be worked with an adze, so the pieces were buried in moist sand for a period to soften them.

Planks are stitched to the keel and to each other with discontinuous stitches of coconut-fiber rope (i.e., coir), made, in Thomas’s account, by the island’s old men, hand-rolling the coconut fibers against their thighs. Planks were caulked with a compound of dehydrated breadfruit sap applied to strips of coconut husk. According to Thomas, this caulking gradually dries out and loses its efficacy, requiring the boats to be disassembled and rebuilt “every two years or so.”

During one of these rebuilding episodes on Satawal on a boat named Suntory (after a brand of Japanese whiskey), the builder in charge decided to lighten the boat to make it faster. After disassembly, all the planks were therefore adzed down to make them thinner. Thomas did not describe whether this process improved the boat’s performance or affected its strength or water-tightness.

Thomas agrees with Hornell in saying that the outer surface of the hull was finished very smooth, although the process of sanding or otherwise smoothing the planks it is not described by either. (Throughout much of the Pacific, shark skin was used as sandpaper for this purpose.) Hulls were traditionally painted in patterns of red, black, and white.

Outrigger and Lee Platform

According to Hornell, the two main outrigger booms, which are fairly straight, “pierce both washstrakes of the hull in large canoes and (extend) a few inches outboard on the lee side.” (In Hornell's version of Admiral Paris’s drawing, however, it is unclear if the booms are entirely surrounded by the washstrake or if, possibly, they are notched full-depth into its top surface). In the popo’s most characteristic form, the outrigger booms also serve as the main support for a large triangular platform which carries crew and cargo. Poles extend diagonally from the windward gunwale at points near both ends of the hull to the main booms near their outboard ends, and the resulting isosceles triangle is covered by planks or light poles.

A second rectangular platform extending from the hull’s leeward size further increases the boat’s cargo capacity. This platform is supported by another pair of heavy timbers that cross the hull. These timbers are angled sharply upward toward their outboard end, allowing the platform to remain dry with the boat at a significant angle of heel. Sometimes the surface of the platform is built directly on these sloping supports; on other cases, another, lighter framework is built over this main structure and decked over, creating a surface that is horizontal when the boat is on an even keel.

Enclosures of basketwork, which may be round, oval, or rectangular, often appear on one or both platforms. These are used primarily to protect cargo, but it appears they occasionally serve as shelters for passengers or off-duty crew.

Connection between the outrigger booms and the float. In the image on the left, the inner two crutches have been omitted for clarity. (Hornell)

The outrigger float, canoe-shaped in plan, hexagonal in section, and about half the length of the hull, is hewn from a solid baulk. It is connected to each boom by a pair of short crutches, the forks of which straddle the booms from below. The lower ends of these crutches are pointed and driven several inches into the upper facets of the float. Between each pair of crutch forks is a yoke which rests across the top surfaces of both booms and extends several inches beyond them. Holes are bored horizontally through the angled top surfaces of the float, and ropes are routed through these holes, over the ends of the yoke, and in a complex path around the crutches to hold the float securely to the booms, with the crutches in compression between them. Additional, lighter-weight braces are lashed to the undersides of the booms, further connecting them to each other and to the crutches, and from one pair of crutches to the other. The entire outrigger structure is thus highly complex and highly engineered for strength and flexibility.

Sail Rig and Steering

Caroline proas (Paris)

The defining characteristic of all true proas is the oceanic lateen or oceanic sprit sail hung from a pivoting mast stepped amidships. (I find the term “crab-claw” used often inappropriately, preferring to apply it only to sails whose leech is deeply concave and therefore somewhat reminiscent of the shape of a claw. This is not the case in the canoes of the central Carolines.) In combination with a double-ended hull, this permits the boat to be shunted, and sailed with either end forward. Sails were traditionally hand-woven from fibers stripped from the leaves of the pandanus or screw pine, but commercially manufactured cloth has apparently been in common use for some time.

Hornell takes pains to define the nomenclature of the sail’s spars, calling the one at the luff (the upper/forward edge) a yard, and the one at the foot a boom. He describes the rigging as follows:

A shroud runs from near the masthead to the yoke [i.e., the short, stout timber connecting the outrigger booms at their outer ends], to which it is secured after passing through a hole bored through its center. There is also a fore-and-aft running stay made fast respectively to the endmost thwart at each end of the hull.

(T)he sail is hoisted by a peak halyard attached far out on the yard and rove through a sheave hole in the masthead; the heel of the yard rests against a sail step set on a short thwart right in the bows, to which the tack is made fast.

There is no shroud or other line serving as such to leeward in this description, and in Thomas’s account of a voyage from Satawal to a nearby atoll, the rig was nearly lost once when the sail was backwinded, due to this lack of support on that side of the boat. No leeward shroud is shown in the diagram or cover photo of Thomas’s book, but in Paris’s diagram and one of his drawings (fifth and first images in this post), a shroud is visible leading from the masthead to the lee platform. Perhaps the practice varied on different islands even within the central Carolines.

Main features of a Satawal proa (from Thomas)

In the past, popos were generally steered by means of a quarter rudder with a tiller that extended laterally from its aft edge near the top. The rudder was not hung from the hull, but instead held by the helmsman’s foot against a wooden pin that projected from the hull. A rope from the top of the blade to the hull, visible in Paris's diagram (image #3), prevented loss of the rudder and perhaps provided some stability to it but apparently did little to hold it in its proper working position for, according to Hornell, “The steersman’s duty is the heaviest aboard and on a journey he has to be relieved frequently.” It rough seas when the rudder could not be controlled, it was lifted from the water, and several men with regular paddles would steer. In Thomas’s account, however, steering was always by means of a single steering paddle, and no rudder appears in his description or in the book’s diagram.

Canoe Houses

Caroline sailing canoes are built and kept in a canoe house. On Satawal, in Thomas’s account, each of the island’s eight clans owned a canoe and kept it in its own house. All the houses were on the same beach, near the main (only?) channel through the island’s surrounding reef, with the house belonging to the clan of the island’s chief directly opposite and closest to the channel. The canoe houses serve as social centers for the men, who typically gather there to talk and drink even when work is not under way on a canoe.

Experienced men of middle age do most of the work on the canoes, assisted and observed by younger ones -- or, in Thomas's account, those few younger ones who could be induced to take an interest any longer. Older men typically observe the work and offer suggestions but restrict their hands-on contribution to the making of rope.

Primary Sources:

Hornell, James, The Canoes of Polynesia, Fiji, and Micronesia, B.P. Bishop Museum, 1936, in Canoes of Oceania (with A.C. Haddon), B.P Bishop Museum, Honolulu, 1975

Kubary, J.S., Ethnographiphische Beiträge zur Kenntniss des Karolinen-Achipel, Leiden, 1889-95

Pâris, François-Edmond, Essai sur la construction navale des peuples extra-européens ou Collection des navires et pirogues construits par les habitants de l'Asie, de la Malaisie, du Grand Océan et de l'Amérique dessinés et mesurés pendant les voyages autour du monde de "l'Astrolabe", "la Favorite" et "l'Artémise")

Thomas, Steve, The Last Navigator: A Young Man, An Ancient Mariner, The Secrets of the Sea, International Marine, Camden, ME (no date). Originally published by Henry Holt, 1987

Additional sources, useful websites and pages:
http://www.samlow.com/screeningroom/navigators-filming.html
http://starrigging.blogspot.com/ and http://starrigging.blogspot.com/2017/06/canoe-sketch.html
http://waterworks-sysooke.blogspot.com/2011/10/chamorro-and-carolinian-sailing-canoes.html
http://archives.starbulletin.com/2008/04/25/features/story04.html
http://www.multihull.de/proa/history/p_history.htm
http://habele.blogspot.com/2017/03/historic-sail-showcases-micronesian.html
http://www.samlow.com/sail-nav/CEREMONY.htm
http://proafile.com/multihull-boats/article/the-proa-file-primer

Sewn Canoes of the Society Islands

Capt. Henry Byam Martin, RN, was stationed in Tahiti in 1846-47, observing the French takeover of the island. Our most recent post looked at the dugout canoes of Tahiti that he observed, while the previous one examined a large sewn double canoe from the Tuamoto Islands that he saw in Tahiti This post will focus on native stitched boats that Martin illustrated in the Society Islands, of which Tahiti is one.

Titled "Cleopatra's barge: a free translation, Utaroa, 27th October, 1846." Utaroa is a community on Raiatea, one of the Societies, where Martin visited Pomare, the queen of Tahiti who had self-exiled herself while attempting to reestablish her position and authority in the face of the French takeover. Although Martin doesn't explicitly identify this image with Pomare, I believe the sketch's title is an ironic reference to her. The stout, seated, cigar-smoking figure in blue beneath the palm-leaf sunshade matches his description of her essential characteristics. (Click any image to enlarge.)

The previous image is from the cover of a published version of Martin's journal, while this one is from the book's interior. The color and detail are better here, but unfortunately the page gutter obscures the middle of the image. Between the two, one can make out the following: 

• Stitched upper strakes, attached to (probably) a dugout base. The stitches are discontinuous.
• There appears to be a square transom. The long, probably flat "bowsprit" extension is in keeping with the design of Tahitian dugout canoes. 
• Two paddlers in the bow provide propulsion, while one aft, apparently female, steers. It is remarkable that there are only two power-paddlers for such a large and heavily-burdened boat, and also that they are seated on the bow's overhang, not further aft where the hull's buoyancy would provide greater support.
• The paddles have large, rounded blades and probably no grip at the top of the shaft. 
• The curved, mostly-horizontal boom is a mystery, for there is no outrigger on the visible port side, and no indication of a second outrigger boom aft of it that might support the aft end of an outrigger float on the starboard side either.

Capt. Martin relates the following tale concerning canoes and royalty on Raiatea:

"Mr. Barff [a Christian missionary on the island] told me with reference to the ceremonies at Opoa point -- that formerly the Kings & Queens of Raiatea were inaugurated there. On those occasions the new sovereign landed from a canoe of state, which was hauled up the beach on the bodies of 6 victims -- one from each island. Hence it became a cant term to send for a roller -- which meant a mauvais sujet [lit: "bad subject," i.e., troublemaker] that the chief wished to dispose of." 

Although this sounds like a fantasy conjured by the prejudice of European cultural imperialism, many of the earliest European visitors to Tahiti -- those who visited before the onslaught of Christian missionaries -- observed and confirmed that human sacrifice was indeed practiced, and that those sacrificed for ritual purposes were typically -- and conveniently -- those very individuals who had made themselves inconvenient to the society.

It is unclear at which of the Society Islands Martin observed this fascinating boat. It appears to be entirely of stitched planks: at least, the extreme rise of the stern would be difficult to form from a straight tree trunk, although carving it dugout-style from a curved tree is not out of the question. In any case, there are at least two courses of strakes, and the stitches appear to be continuous. The shield-shaped, square transom is unusual and eye-catching. Other features:

• The spritsail rig is probably indigenous, but the square topsail may be an adoption of a Western type. There is a sheet to the upper end of the sprit.
• The topsail has both both upper and lower yards. The whole topsail rig is mounted on a topmast that is lashed to a lower mast and overlaps it by a few feet. 
• One can just make out an outrigger boom to port. 
• The spar sticking out to starboard serves to anchor the lower ends of three shrouds, which all meet the mast at the same point, just above the spritsail's head. Presumably there are similar shrouds to the forward outrigger boom to port. Since there are no lines holding the starboard spar down, the man sitting on it may serve more as a mast support than as a hiking counterweight against heeling. One assumes that on the opposite tack, the man would scramble to the forward outrigger boom before the helmsman allows the sails to take any pressure of wind.
• The attachment of the plank bowsprit to the uppermost strake is unclear and one wonders how it could be fastened securely with no visible supporting lines or brackets.
• Steering is with a single paddle held surprisingly far forward from the transom (but fairly close to the aft end of the waterline, given the long stern overhang).  

Sources:

Images and quotation from: The Polynesian Journal of Captain Henry Byam Martin, R.N. In command of H.M.S. Grampus -- 50 guns, at Hawaii and on station in Tahiti and the Society Islands, 1846-1847.

Also: Early Tahiti As The Explorers Saw It, 1767-1797, Edwin N. Ferdon

Morgawr, Ferriby 1 Reconstruction, Launched

After a year in construction, Morgawr, a full-size reconstruction of Ferriby 1 has been launched in Cornwall. Discovered in the 1930s by Ted Wright and his brother Will, Ferriby 1 is one of the most important Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in northern Europe. (Our previous post about the construction of the Ferriby replica included a nice bit of time-lapse photography.)

Morgawr, a reconstruction of the Bronze Age boat Ferriby 1. This image and the one below are from John Durrant's nice FlickR album that includes many good photos of construction details.

Inside the Ferriby reconstruction. Cleats were left standing proud on the inside surfaces on the hull's main timbers when the logs were hewn to shape. The cleats provide anchors for transverse staves. The staves keep the longitudinal bottom timber and the iles (the angled "plank" pieces that form the turn of the bilge) from shifting longitudinally relative to each other, and provide some transverse stiffness to the bottom, but they do not act as frames: i.e., they do nothing to keep the "planks" tight against each other. For that, the builders relied on stitching with yew withies. The seams were caulked with moss and animal fat, and covered with laths on the inside. The laths are held down by the yew stitches, which pass through holes bored through the planks. 

Here's a short news item with a bit more background from This Is Cornwall, which we'll follow with this piece from BBC, featuring some nice footage of the boat in action, coupled with typically inane reporting.


As a bonus: here's a bailer that museum expert Edwin Deady carved from oak and donated to the reconstruction effort. While the boat crew evidently didn't use it on the maiden voyage, one would hope that they'll soon adopt this more period-accurate accessory during future sea trials.

The Tomol Revival

In our most recent posts, which looked at the cultural background of the Chumash tomol and at tomol construction, both referred to replica boats – tomols that have been built since the end of "natural" indigenous use of this interesting sewn-plank canoe.

Tomol under construction by Fernando Librado, 1912 or 1913. (Click any image to enlarge.)

The first such replica was built in 1912 or 1913 under the direction of Fernando Librado, probably the last of the Chumash "Brotherhood of the Tomol" – the guild that built and used the boats. Librado, then 73 years old, built the boat at the request of John Peabody Harrington, an anthropologist who "discovered" (for the purposes of modern science) that the Chumash had not died out by the 1870s and were, in fact, still a living culture in the first decade of the 20th century. Recognizing the central role the tomol had played in Chumash culture prior to and well into the era of the Spanish missions, Harrington plied Librado with hours of questions about every aspect of tomol construction and usage, and had him build a full-size replica that is now in the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History. (See the museum's pages on Chumash life.)

Librado's replica was not correct in all respects -- it used commercially sawn lumber and its shape was not quite authentic -- but through its construction, Harrington was nevertheless able to capture much detail about the building process, and through his intensive questioning of Librado, he was able to tease out the differences and arrive at was is probably a very accurate depiction of the boat's original form and construction. Harrington continued to live among the Chumash so intensively that he became one of them and, after receiving a post with the federal Bureau of American Ethnology, he documented their culture in thousands of pages of hand-written notes, leaving virtually no aspect of Chumash life unrecorded.

Librado's tomol in the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History. (Photo from  blog Jack Elliott's Santa Barbara Adventure.)

In the 1970s there was a widespread reawakening of American Indian/First Peoples pride and culture, and in 1975, members of the Quabajai Chumash Indian Association built Helek, a tomol that took advantage of Harrington's notes and Librado's replica. (I've seen the word helek defined variously as hawk, falcon, and peregrine falcon.) This boat was launched in 1976, and it was campaigned on historic Chumash stomping grounds between San Miguel Island, Santa Rosa Island, and Santa Cruz Island in the Channel Islands group.

Plans for Helek, based on Harrington's description and Librado's replica. This is probably the most accurate depiction possible of a tomol.

Helek's maiden voyage.

Helek proved the be the first of several modern replicas. The Chumash Maritime Association was founded in 1996 and built the tomol 'Elye'wun (Swordfish) which, in 2001 crossed from the mainland to Santa Cruz Island: a 21-mile voyage taking 10 hours. Since then, channel crossings by the group have become a nearly annual event (the trip was cancelled in 2012 due to rough seas on the scheduled day).

'Elye'wun, built by the Chumash Maritime Association

A Google image search for "Chumash tomol" turns up photos of several additional replicas, although details on most of these have proven elusive. Some of them are clearly more authentic than others, and the quality of workmanship varies widely. Nonetheless, it appears that tomol construction is no longer in danger of becoming a lost art, and that it is being practiced by cultural organizations and individuals as a means of preserving both Chumash heritage and native skills.

I invite readers to provide information and photos about specific tomol projects. We'd love to learn and show more. Thanks!

Tomol Construction

A Chumash tomol. Painting by Robert Thomas. Click any image to enlarge.

In our previous post, we looked at social and economic aspects of the California Chumash planked canoe or tomol. Now let's see how they were built.

The primary construction materials were softwood for planking, asphaltum (i.e., bitumen) and pine pitch for sealing, and red milkweed for caulking and sewing. Redwood was the preferred wood, because of its light weight, durability, rot resistance, and ease of working. Redwood is not native to the Santa Barbara region where the Chumash lived, but a fair amount turned up as driftwood, primarily on the shores on the Channel Islands. Far less redwood driftwood was available on the mainland on the other side of the Santa Barbara channel. On the other hand, bitumen was easily mined on the mainland from exposed coastal cliff faces, so most tomols were built on the islands with bitumen imported from the mainland. But because of the economic importance of the tomol, they were built wherever possible, including on the mainland, and if redwood was unavailable, other softwoods were used.

Tree trunks were split into planks with wedges made from whalebone. The quality of the planking material was of such concern that a log might only yield a few planks acceptably free of knots, cracks and bad grain. After being split, planks were further worked to consistent thickness with axes and adzes made of stone or shell, then smoothed with sharkskin "sandpaper."

The tomol was built right side up. The bottom plank was somewhat dished, but it was not thick enough to constitute a "dugout" base: in other words, the tomol was a true plank-built boat, not an extended dugout. The bottom plank was set on a V-shaped framework that established the angle of the sides. (It's not clear to me from the available materials whether this was a single building form located amidships, or a series of connected forms -- i.e., a building frame -- that determined the shape at several stations.)

Each strake consisted of several short planks which were beveled at the ends to make lap joints. The strake-to-strake joints were butted and had caulking bevels, like standard carvel planking. The garboards, which were set on top of the bottom plank, were beveled to establish the proper angle for the sides.

Fitting the planks was probably the most difficult and time-consuming task in tomol construction. A complex series of lines was strung as guides to each plank's shape. On occasion, it was possible to get out a plank with the proper curves from a suitably curved piece of timber; at other times, a plank might be hewn to the required curved shape. Most planks, however, had to be sprung in place. To soften them, they were placed in clay-lined, water-filled pit, and hot rocks were added to boil the water. After the planks had soaked for some hours, they were removed and quickly bent and twisted to shape on the boat. They were bedded in yop -- a mixture of bitumen and pitch pine.

Pairs of holes were bored in adjacent planks with stone drills, and grooves cut between the holes. Waxed cordage made of red milkweed fiber was passed through the holes: each stitch consisted of three turns, followed by two knots. (Cordage was made by women; men performed all other tasks associated with construction.) All stitches were separate. The ties were recessed into the surface of the plank, and so were protected from abrasion. Plank laps were stitched in a similar manner. More milkweed fiber was forced into the planking bevels. All plank joints and tie-holes were sealed with more yop.

A tomol built in 1912 or 1913 for anthropologist John Peabody Harrington by Fernando Librado, the last Chumash to have worked with the old "Brotherhood of the Tomol" boatbuilders guild.

Most tomols had six strakes. A single thwart was placed amidships, sandwiched between the fifth and sixth (gunwale) strakes. This was the only internal strengthening member, and it was never used as a seat. The first five strakes were apparently beveled to meet at the bow and stern (where they were stitched together): the gunwale strakes stopped just short of one another, leaving a V-shaped gap at the ends through which fishing or harpoon lines could run. Half-round "ears" were sewn atop the ends of the gunwale strakes, raising the height of the V. While claims are made that these served as washboards, they appear too small to have been functional: I believe they were primarily decorative. A rope was passed around the both ends, just inboard of the ears, to keep the uppermost strakes from spreading.

After planking was complete, internal stem- and sternposts were added. These were triangular in cross-section and extended from the bottom plank to the top of the fifth strake, and were fastened with yop and stitches.

Excess yop was then scraped off and the wood was sanded again and sealed with pine pitch. Red ochre was added to the pitch for color. Using a raccoon-tail brush, all stitches were painted black. The ears were often decorated with shell inlays in geometric patterns, and occasionally crushed abalone shell was dusted onto the pine pitch sealant while it was still tacky: this made the whole boat sparkle in the sunlight.

Helek, a replica tomol (26.5' LOA) built in 1976.

Construction of a tomol took two to six months for seven workers– a really significant outlay of labor and resources for a hunter-gatherer society. The boats were highly valued and received daily maintenance. Although they leaked badly and required almost constant bailing, they were seaworthy and well-suited to the needs of their builders. According to a Spanish sea captain's report in 1602:

"A canoe came out to us with two Indian fishermen, who had a great quantity of fish, rowing so swiftly that they seemed to fly.... After they had gone five Indians came out in another canoe, so well constructed and built that since Noah's Ark a finer and lighter vessel with timbers better made has not been seen."

After the Spanish settled the Santa Barbara region, Chumash boatbuilders produced tomols for the Spanish missions, which relied on them for communications and trade. The design of the tomol did not change, but the Spanish made sawn lumber and steel tools available, and this must have greatly telescoped the building process. 

A tomol replica: does anyone know where this is and who built it?

MAIN SOURCES: 
Jeanne E. Arnold, "Credit Where Credit is Due: The History of the Chumash Oceangoing Plank Canoe," American Antiquity, 72(2), 2007, pp. 196-209
Dee Travis Hudson, "Chumash Canoes of Mission Santa Barbara: the Revolt of 1824," Journal of California Anthropology, 1976
Brian Fagan, "The Chumash," in Time Detectives. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995

The Chumash and the Tomol

A tomol replica built in 1976. Source: Chumash Maritime Organization. (Click any image to enlarge.)

The Chumash were a North American maritime culture, originally based on the mainland and Channel Islands on both sides of the Santa Barbara Channel in California. (I use the past tense in describing the culture as maritime for, while many Chumash people still remain in the area, their culture is no longer defined by maritime activities.) The area is particularly rich in marine resources, and the Chumash used at least three kinds of boats to exploit them.

Probably the first to appear was the tule reed "balsa," a raft of bundled reeds. It seems likely that tule balsas provided the means by which the islands were settled some 12,000 years ago, long before Chumash culture arose. Bundle boats are among the simplest of all watercraft to produce, and the main building materials were readily available in large quantities on the mainland shores of the Santa Barbara Channel, and in smaller amounts on the islands. In addition to large beds of reeds, naturally-occurring tar, in the form of asphaltum, is found in the area, and the Chumash used this to coat the reed bundles and increase their water resistance.

Even with a tar coating, tule reeds are a short-lived commodity, so hard evidence for the use of such craft so long ago is hard to come by. But the early occupation of the islands, and evidence of cross-channel trade that followed it but predates the probable development of other boat types, indicate that some sort of watercraft was in regular use, as do excavations of dwelling sites that indicate that the Chumash diet included marine animals that would have been difficult to obtain without the use of a boat.

Tule reed balsas were still in use at the beginning of the historic era (around the middle of the 16th century AD), when the Spanish first explored and later colonized the area. They were about 2.5 meters LOA and capable of carrying two or three people. They were used primarily for nearshore and coastal fishing and transport, and occasionally for cross-channel crossings. The Chumash also had dugout canoes, but confined them to nearshore and coastal use.

The boat for which the Chumash are best known was a large and highly capable sewn-plank canoe called a tomol. The tomol has been called "the single most important, valuable property in the Chumash economy" and "one of the most sophisticated technological innovations in precolonial North America," and described as "(possibly) the most sophisticated and laborious-to-build large watercraft of the New World," requiring costly materials and some 500 man-days of skilled labor to construct (All three quotations: Arnold, 2007).

As an unusually expensive construction, it is not surprising that the tomol played a central role in Chumash culture. Its development around 500 AD gave rise to the culture's central economic activities (fishing for large, powerful fish species, and trade), and defined important aspects of cultural hierarchy, including the creation of economic elites and the centralization of power in chiefdoms.

Lines for the replica tomol shown above, based on a boat built in 1912 by an old Chumash master builder. The replica boat was 26.5 feet LOA.

Tomols ranged from 3.7 to 9 meters LOA, with most between 6 and 7 meters. They were double-ended, with flat bottoms and lightly-curved sides that sloped sharply outward. Those of the most common size could carry two tons of cargo or 12 passengers, although far more passengers could be carried in a pinch. During the Chumash revolt in 1824, two tomols carried 50 adults and children, including crew, cross-channel from Mission Santa Barbara to escape from Spanish forces.

Crews ranged from three to six men including a man assigned to bailing, for the tomol leaked constantly. Paddlers knelt on grass mats in the bottom, using double-bladed paddles with very long shafts and small, gourd-shaped blades.

Tomols were launched from open beaches. They were light, and were launched by being lifted and placed in water deep enough to float them before they were loaded. One man remained in the water to help hold the boat bow-on to waves and give the boat a good shove to get it started.

Paddle strokes were coordinated among the crew. It's reported that a good crew could paddle all day, repeating this song over and over:

The canoe / Courage! / You have the power to succeed in reaching the other side, so that you may get where you want to go . . .

All common fishing methods were conducted from the tomol: hook and line (using hooks made of shell), netting, trapping, harpooning, and collecting by hand. Large, aggressive species, including swordfish, marlin, tuna, shark and giant sea bass were caught, as were anchovy, abalone, and sea mammals.

The tomol made possible regular cross-channel trade in large, heavy, bulky items and nonessentials. Mainland exports to the islands included stone mortars and vessels, stone tool cores, bundles of milkweed fiber (used for binding, including stitching the tomol's planks), seeds, acorns, deer, bows and arrows, and large chunks of asphaltum. Reverse trade consisted mainly of finished products of stone or bone, baskets, and otter pelts.

Considerable non-trade travel also occurred, probably for social, matrimonial and ceremonial purposes, the last of which might include the movement of an entire village. Fares were sometimes paid with shell bead money.

Tomol construction was controlled by a guild and supervised by a master builder, known as the altomolich, who directed a building crew of six in a range of skilled tasks, including getting out and fitting planks, fastening, caulking, and decorating. In control of such a critical economic activity, the altomolich was of high status and well compensated. Only chiefs and altomolichs could afford to own tomols, and sometimes the two roles were held by a single individual.

Stay tuned. We'll continue to look at the tomol in future posts.

UPDATE, 2 May, 2014: Reader Yoram Meroz has pointed out his recent paper on the indigenous Chumash source of tomol technology. It convincingly refutes the theory that the tomol was introduced from Polynesia.

MAIN SOURCES: 
Jeanne E. Arnold, "Credit Where Credit is Due: The History of the Chumash Oceangoing Plank Canoe," American Antiquity, 72(2), 2007, pp. 196-209
Dee Travis Hudson, "Chumash Canoes of Mission Santa Barbara: the Revolt of 1824," Journal of California Anthropology, 1976
Brian Fagan, "The Chumash," in Time Detectives. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995

More on Hjortspring

In response to valuable comments from Thomas Armstrong to my previous post, I went back to Landstrom's The Ship: Illustrated History and I find that I was misleading in my description. Landstrom did not suggest a direct connection between the Scandinavian skin boats and the umiak --rather, he suggested that Scandinavians had skin boats that were similar in some respects to umiaks, but he did not imply a technology transfer between the cultures. Sorry for the error, and thanks to Thomas for pointing it out.

I also found more detailed description of the Hjortspring boat's design and construction, some of which contradicts my interpretation of the painting that appeared in the previous post:

The Hjortspring boat with its peculiarities was the result of a very skilful builder's work. It is a round-bottomed boat made of five overlapping planks stitched together, midships 20 ins. broad and 5/8 ins. thick, which are joined to two end-pieces each hewn from a solid block. The bottom plank projects like the end of a runner outside the boat proper, and between this runner and the elongated "noses" of the end-pieces these remarkable vertical end-posts are fitted. When hewing the planks cleats were left into which thin ribs were attached with bass binding. Ten thwarts in the narrow boat gave room for twenty paddlers, and it is believed that the craft was used for warlike purposes.

With its overlapping planks, this boat is approaching subject matter that this blog typically eschews: it appears to be in the line of development to the lapstrake boat that's at the heart of the western boatbuilding tradition. The description of the end-pieces does seem to be similar to those of the Polynesian five-part canoe, which I had discounted in my previous post.