Westerly gales throughout the week tested our new roof. As far as I can judge, it did not shift by even a hair’s breadth. I would have been disappointed to find any change, however insignificant.
The storms washed up a perfect Helmet (Tiger) Shell. You can see it here, perched on the cypress floorboards.
Sam has recorded the next job: installation of the joists. I have already cut them to size, and placed them in position on the Ironbark bearers. Over the next few days, weather permitting, I will fasten them with (very long) skewed nails.
It is worth noting that once a nail is hammered into Ironbark, it cannot be extracted: it is locked in for life. I have therefore adopted and adapted Dad’s boatbuilding maxim, roughly translated: check your measurements twice (or thrice), before ‘hammering’ once. I hope it will save me a lot of heartache.
The native cypress, when cut with a saw, gives off an exhilirating fragrance, somewhat akin to the smell of Western Red Cedar or Baltic Pine, but more subtle. It is a fraction softer than Oregon, cuts sweetly, and has to be predrilled. Working with such lovely wood is a pleasure, and a privilege.