Blackfly Blog

The Blackfly CNC router

About a year and a half ago, I decided I needed a CNC router for Blackfly, because…well, if you look at US manufacturing data, you can see that we’re making almost twice as much in this country, with a third fewer workers than 30 years ago.  With as much as we hear about the death of American manufacturing, it’s almost hard to believe, but when you think about the advances in technology, it makes sense that we’d be seeing huge increases in productivity.  And as the cost of those technologies decreases, it filters down to smaller and smaller operations, like my goofy little canoe company.

Some assembly required

So after a few months of head scratching, reading reviews, comparing options, running cost/benefit numbers, and my usual geeking out and learning as much as I could and overthinking things, I picked out a kit and pulled the trigger.  Once it all came together and started moving on it’s own, it became obvious this thing was going to be ludicrously useful.  Oh, and there was going to be a steep learning curve.

Oops. there should be a “G0Z0.1” in the code there somewhere….

But eventually, I got a lot of it sorted out, sorted out the proper bits for cutting saddles.

I’m always a little frightened when this thing spins up to 24,000 RPM

Cutting saddles. these are the back half of a Tandem Saddle.

Cutting saddles is the most frequent task for the machine.  I was previously getting them water jet cut, but doing it in house saves a good bit of cost  and takes about 5 minutes each; 5 minutes I can spend working on other things.

But there are plenty of other jobs it makes so much easier, and less boring. Previously, I was drilling holes in the thwarts on a drill press.  Between counterbores for the the thwart screws, countersink for the dowel in the middle, airbag lacing holes, etc, there were about 10 holes I had to put in each one.  Now it’s down to… eh, I don’t really know, I just load 28 thwarts on the machine and hit go and let it do it’s thing.

Drilling holes in thwarts is boring.

I use plastic rods to hold the footpegs to the saddle.  Each rod needs to have pilot holes drilled for the screws.  I used to get blisters from trying to hold onto the rods while I drilled them on the drill press.  And it’s tedious, monotonous work.

Footpeg dowel pilot holes. the plastic shavings tend to build up on the bit, so it only drills about a quarter inch at a time before retracting to clear the shavings, which is easy to do with a machine, more tedious with a human.

Ultimately, the thing that steered me toward getting a CNC in the first place was being about to do CAD designed plugs for boats.  It’s always been a challenge for me to get curves faired and boats symmetric when I’m shaping by hand, and having a machine do it for me was too appealing to resist, even if I do have to do it in small sections and put them all together.

Fake snow anyone?

A prototype of the Condor shaping up.

As a one man operation, my level of productivity is hugely important to me, and having what is basically a robotic version of me that’s generally faster and more accurate has been amazing.  While it’s cutting a saddle, I can start gluing the saddle that just came off.  While it’s drilling holes in thwarts, I can be oiling the previous set of thwarts or running the next set though the table router.  At least that’s the theory, I do spend a bit too much time just watching it work, especially if it’s a one-off piece.  It’s really kind of amazing, both to watch it work, and to think about all I can do with it.  I’ll be pretty interested to see as technology continues it’s march forward, what will happen in manufacturing.  Economic theory tells us that increased productivity is good for the economy because it frees up workers to do other things.  I know it certainly has for me, and has saved me money, not only over hiring someone to help out in the shop, but actually over farming out tasks I couldn’t do previously.  But on the other hand, automation does reduce the number of workers required, which means fewer jobs.  As the price of technology like this comes down, will we see more small operations like Blackfly adopting it in innovative ways to make really cool stuff, and become larger economic forces?  Are there ways for small shops like mine to share resources that aren’t in use all the time?  All tough questions to answer, but for the time being, I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords.

A miniture Condor that started out as a piece of firewood from my log pile.

The Blackfly CNC router

About a year and a half ago, I decided I needed a CNC router for Blackfly, because…well, if you look at US manufacturing data, you can see that we’re making almost twice as much in this country, with a third fewer workers than 30 years ago.  With as much as we hear about the death of American manufacturing, it’s almost hard to believe, but when you think about the advances in technology, it makes sense that we’d be seeing huge increases in productivity.  And as the cost of those technologies decreases, it filters down to smaller and smaller operations, like my goofy little canoe company.

Some assembly required

So after a few months of head scratching, reading reviews, comparing options, running cost/benefit numbers, and my usual geeking out and learning as much as I could and overthinking things, I picked out a kit and pulled the trigger.  Once it all came together and started moving on it’s own, it became obvious this thing was going to be ludicrously useful.  Oh, and there was going to be a steep learning curve.

Oops. there should be a “G0Z0.1” in the code there somewhere….

But eventually, I got a lot of it sorted out, sorted out the proper bits for cutting saddles.

I’m always a little frightened when this thing spins up to 24,000 RPM

Cutting saddles. these are the back half of a Tandem Saddle.

Cutting saddles is the most frequent task for the machine.  I was previously getting them water jet cut, but doing it in house saves a good bit of cost  and takes about 5 minutes each; 5 minutes I can spend working on other things.

But there are plenty of other jobs it makes so much easier, and less boring. Previously, I was drilling holes in the thwarts on a drill press.  Between counterbores for the the thwart screws, countersink for the dowel in the middle, airbag lacing holes, etc, there were about 10 holes I had to put in each one.  Now it’s down to… eh, I don’t really know, I just load 28 thwarts on the machine and hit go and let it do it’s thing.

Drilling holes in thwarts is boring.

I use plastic rods to hold the footpegs to the saddle.  Each rod needs to have pilot holes drilled for the screws.  I used to get blisters from trying to hold onto the rods while I drilled them on the drill press.  And it’s tedious, monotonous work.

Footpeg dowel pilot holes. the plastic shavings tend to build up on the bit, so it only drills about a quarter inch at a time before retracting to clear the shavings, which is easy to do with a machine, more tedious with a human.

Ultimately, the thing that steered me toward getting a CNC in the first place was being about to do CAD designed plugs for boats.  It’s always been a challenge for me to get curves faired and boats symmetric when I’m shaping by hand, and having a machine do it for me was too appealing to resist, even if I do have to do it in small sections and put them all together.

Fake snow anyone?

A prototype of the Condor shaping up.

As a one man operation, my level of productivity is hugely important to me, and having what is basically a robotic version of me that’s generally faster and more accurate has been amazing.  While it’s cutting a saddle, I can start gluing the saddle that just came off.  While it’s drilling holes in thwarts, I can be oiling the previous set of thwarts or running the next set though the table router.  At least that’s the theory, I do spend a bit too much time just watching it work, especially if it’s a one-off piece.  It’s really kind of amazing, both to watch it work, and to think about all I can do with it.  I’ll be pretty interested to see as technology continues it’s march forward, what will happen in manufacturing.  Economic theory tells us that increased productivity is good for the economy because it frees up workers to do other things.  I know it certainly has for me, and has saved me money, not only over hiring someone to help out in the shop, but actually over farming out tasks I couldn’t do previously.  But on the other hand, automation does reduce the number of workers required, which means fewer jobs.  As the price of technology like this comes down, will we see more small operations like Blackfly adopting it in innovative ways to make really cool stuff, and become larger economic forces?  Are there ways for small shops like mine to share resources that aren’t in use all the time?  All tough questions to answer, but for the time being, I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords.

A miniture Condor that started out as a piece of firewood from my log pile.

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these “From the Shop” posts.  Everything has been humming along here at Blackfly World headquarters, all the boats are in stock and ready to go out the door.  It’s been a long, and very busy winter here in New Hampshire; it’s certainly not over yet, but it’s given me a lot of time to wax philosophical.  I sometimes find myself asking, “Why am I here?”  (Not New Hampshire, though sometimes I wonder about that).  Why do I do this, making canoes?  I could certainly go on about the less glamorous aspects of my work: the contact cement fumes, the dust, the long hours on the road and fast food, loading and unloading boats, the seasonal nature of the cashflow involved, the general struggles of running a small business.  But for all that, the good days greatly outnumber the bad days.  I really enjoy what I do.  But I’ve decided there’s thing that really makes this worth it for me. I’m just here for the tacos.

I’m certainly not here for the money.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m making a modest living, and that IS important to me, but I’ve done the math, and there are plenty of other things I would be better off doing if money was my ultimate motivation.  So why do it?

I put in my fair share of monotonous hours, and sometimes my thoughts drift to things like the connection between what I’m doing and the past.  The canoe is one of the oldest forms of boats, dating back thousands of years.  What I’m doing is directly traceable back to the long-forgotten people hollowing out logs.  I find that interesting and somewhat satisfying, but on it’s own, it’s certainly not enough to be my motivation.

I love to paddle, that’s why I started this whole crazy project.  I especially love the feeling of paddling a boat I designed and built myself.  I don’t think the feeling of putting a new hull in the water for the first time will ever wear off, especially when it performs the way I want it to.  The flip side is sometimes prototyping new ideas can be frustrating and disappointing, but that’s why we prototype.  It’s also nice to ditch work when the creeks are running (I’ll make it up later).  However, I sometimes wonder if I’d get more river time if I paddling was only a hobby and not a job for me, and if I wouldn’t be thinking about chine and rocker designs as much while I’m paddling.

I have a belief and a desire that Blackfly Canoes can be a force for good in the world.  It might be as simple as getting people outside, connecting with nature, and connecting with each other.  I love seeing pictures of parents paddling tandem boats with their children (and I love paddling with mine).  I’m driven by a belief in support the community around me, not just the river community, but also my neighbors near and far.  Part of that is a commitment to American manufacturing and buying as much of what I need from close to home.  If you want to see American manufacturing flourish, by something made here.  I also have a deeply held belief that the preservation of our rivers is extremely important, I like to use Blackfly to support organizations that work toward that goal.  Sometimes it’s a stretch though, and I never feel like I’m doing enough though.  And how do I balance that with the carbon footprint of what I’m doing and what you’re doing every time you drive to the river?  What about the impact of microplastics left in the river when your boat slides over a rock?  These are things that conflict me.

The paddling community, especially my customers, are very encouraging.  I love getting to meet you on the river and paddle with you and hearing the positive feedback about what I do.  Seeing people enjoying the fruit of my labor is hugely rewarding for me.  But I’m my own toughest critic.  I know I can always do thing better, I notice all the flaws, and when people aren’t satisfied, it’s a massive disappointment for me.

I can’t say that without also saying one of the things I truly love most about what I do is the challenge.  “Tell me I won’t, and I will.”  All those flaws and mistakes and shortcomings are room for improvement, and I love striving to make them better.  The boats I’m making today are better than the ones I made six months ago.  Those are better than the ones I made a year ago.  I’ve come along way, and I don’t intend to stop improving.  Some of the improvements you can see, some are changes in process that make things easier, more consistent, or more efficient.  I absolutely love the problem solving, creativity, and learning that goes into what I do.  One of the driving factors that keeps me going into the shop is the question, “How can I do this better?”  Because there’s always a better way to do something.

So having said all that, I’ve decided that what really, truly, honestly makes doing all this worth it for me is the tacos.  If you’ve stopped by the Blackfly tent at a river festival, you may have been handed a taco, or at least you smelled them.  Alex started it one year at Gaulyfest, and it’s become somewhat of a tradition for us to grill them up at just about every festival we go to.  They’ve even gotten some press.  We make them fresh, they’re delicious, and I can’t think of a downside to them.  So really, I’ve decided I’m just here for the tacos.

Photo by Regina Nicolardi

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these “From the Shop” posts.  Everything has been humming along here at Blackfly World headquarters, all the boats are in stock and ready to go out the door.  It’s been a long, and very busy winter here in New Hampshire; it’s certainly not over yet, but it’s given me a lot of time to wax philosophical.  I sometimes find myself asking, “Why am I here?”  (Not New Hampshire, though sometimes I wonder about that).  Why do I do this, making canoes?  I could certainly go on about the less glamorous aspects of my work: the contact cement fumes, the dust, the long hours on the road and fast food, loading and unloading boats, the seasonal nature of the cashflow involved, the general struggles of running a small business.  But for all that, the good days greatly outnumber the bad days.  I really enjoy what I do.  But I’ve decided there’s thing that really makes this worth it for me. I’m just here for the tacos.

I’m certainly not here for the money.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m making a modest living, and that IS important to me, but I’ve done the math, and there are plenty of other things I would be better off doing if money was my ultimate motivation.  So why do it?

I put in my fair share of monotonous hours, and sometimes my thoughts drift to things like the connection between what I’m doing and the past.  The canoe is one of the oldest forms of boats, dating back thousands of years.  What I’m doing is directly traceable back to the long-forgotten people hollowing out logs.  I find that interesting and somewhat satisfying, but on it’s own, it’s certainly not enough to be my motivation.

I love to paddle, that’s why I started this whole crazy project.  I especially love the feeling of paddling a boat I designed and built myself.  I don’t think the feeling of putting a new hull in the water for the first time will ever wear off, especially when it performs the way I want it to.  The flip side is sometimes prototyping new ideas can be frustrating and disappointing, but that’s why we prototype.  It’s also nice to ditch work when the creeks are running (I’ll make it up later).  However, I sometimes wonder if I’d get more river time if I paddling was only a hobby and not a job for me, and if I wouldn’t be thinking about chine and rocker designs as much while I’m paddling.

I have a belief and a desire that Blackfly Canoes can be a force for good in the world.  It might be as simple as getting people outside, connecting with nature, and connecting with each other.  I love seeing pictures of parents paddling tandem boats with their children (and I love paddling with mine).  I’m driven by a belief in support the community around me, not just the river community, but also my neighbors near and far.  Part of that is a commitment to American manufacturing and buying as much of what I need from close to home.  If you want to see American manufacturing flourish, by something made here.  I also have a deeply held belief that the preservation of our rivers is extremely important, I like to use Blackfly to support organizations that work toward that goal.  Sometimes it’s a stretch though, and I never feel like I’m doing enough though.  And how do I balance that with the carbon footprint of what I’m doing and what you’re doing every time you drive to the river?  What about the impact of microplastics left in the river when your boat slides over a rock?  These are things that conflict me.

The paddling community, especially my customers, are very encouraging.  I love getting to meet you on the river and paddle with you and hearing the positive feedback about what I do.  Seeing people enjoying the fruit of my labor is hugely rewarding for me.  But I’m my own toughest critic.  I know I can always do thing better, I notice all the flaws, and when people aren’t satisfied, it’s a massive disappointment for me.

I can’t say that without also saying one of the things I truly love most about what I do is the challenge.  “Tell me I won’t, and I will.”  All those flaws and mistakes and shortcomings are room for improvement, and I love striving to make them better.  The boats I’m making today are better than the ones I made six months ago.  Those are better than the ones I made a year ago.  I’ve come along way, and I don’t intend to stop improving.  Some of the improvements you can see, some are changes in process that make things easier, more consistent, or more efficient.  I absolutely love the problem solving, creativity, and learning that goes into what I do.  One of the driving factors that keeps me going into the shop is the question, “How can I do this better?”  Because there’s always a better way to do something.

So having said all that, I’ve decided that what really, truly, honestly makes doing all this worth it for me is the tacos.  If you’ve stopped by the Blackfly tent at a river festival, you may have been handed a taco, or at least you smelled them.  Alex started it one year at Gaulyfest, and it’s become somewhat of a tradition for us to grill them up at just about every festival we go to.  They’ve even gotten some press.  We make them fresh, they’re delicious, and I can’t think of a downside to them.  So really, I’ve decided I’m just here for the tacos.

Photo by Regina Nicolardi

If you’re coming from a whitewater canoe with thighstraps, getting the bulkhead outfitting dialed in can seem like a daunting task, but it doesn’t need to be.  The Blackfly saddle is designed to be a (too) tight fit for most people because its easier to carve it out than to add to it, so some cutting and carving of foam is required.  This week, I’m sharing some of my tips, tricks, and strategy.

The starting point.

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