• My 21st Century Workbench
  • Dry Erase Pen Holders
  • Roubo iPad Stands
  • Beer Stein Cabinet
  • York Pitched Krenovian Handplane

The table top.  I’m looking for thoughts should anyone offer them up…

So on paper, I drew up this outdoor table to hold my grill. I purposefully used the same joinery techniques that I’m using for my indoor living room table (yet to be finished); practice the through tenons to attach the tabletop on an outdoor piece prior to doing it on the real thing (the indoor piece).

The goal of this project (from its inception): Build a simple outdoor table to hold my grill (to prevent it from tipping) using bomb-proof joinery.  I don’t care if it has flaws or what type of wood it’s made of (so long as it’s strong)… and it’s a requirement to keep the price under $1000.  Furthermore, I don’t necessarily care if the top is flat, so long as it holds my beer while I cook.  Lastly, the lifespan of the table is the lifespan of the grill; once I get rid of the grill, I’ll have no use for a table with a big hole in the top.  I put the lifespan in the 15-20 year timeframe.

So I have a co-worker that spent 3 months (three!!!) apprenticing under David Charlesworth, and it took a point-out from him to catch a major flaw that I completely missed in the designing of the table.  Take a look:

Wood movement

Table topWood moves.  Once he pointed that out, I looked it up: with seasonal movement, the front-to-back portion of the table top will contract and expand up to ¼” either direction (maybe even more).  Over time (maybe a year, maybe ten years), the tabletop will either crack, warp, or pull the upper fox-wedged tenons slightly out of their socket, weakening the joint.  Fortunately, the living room table I designed this thing after (at right) has a different top (it’s not one solid piece of wood) that allows through-tenons to secure the table top into place without the worry of movement.

What to do, what to do…

Here are the facts:

  • the white oak top has been sitting outside, air drying, for a few years. I’m pretty sure it’s acclimated to the moisture content where I live now.  So for now, this should minimize the movement. (Who’s to say when I move in a few years how much the moisture content of the new location will affect it)
  • I plan on applying some type of liberal finish on the top to slow the movement down.  I know, I know; I can’t stop it… but maybe slowing it has the potential to prolong against any catastrophic failures?

So what do I do?  Here are the options I can think of:

  1. Leave aloneBuild to fail (I guess this is the best way to put it): proceed as planned knowing that the top will warp or weaken the upper joints that oppose the grain movement.  Like I said, this is an outdoor table whose lifespan will be that of the grill.  Again, it just has to be flat enough to hold a beer successfully while grilling.  I guess this way I can see wood movement in action (kinda like the experiments Brian was running over at Toolerable) and learn through failure to not plan like that again.
  2. Buttons & Figure 8sCut off the tenons that protrude from the base and find a movement-safe way to attach the top to the base.  Things I’ve seen are wooden “buttons” or metal figure-8 braces.  I hate to say it though: I really kinda liked the way through-tenons looked, and part of the reason I designed it that way was to give it a shot on the outdoor table before I do it on the indoor table (practice, if you will).
  3. Split the topRip the top down the center (where I initially book-matched it together!!) and attach it to the base as 2 pieces, still using the the four through-tenons as points of attachment. It will allow the top to expand and contract towards the middle of the table. A lift grip centered on the sides of the table will obviously lift the tabletop from the base and stress the through-tenons. Therefore, any lifting must be done via the front and back of the table (rather than the sides). I dunno if I like the idea (visually) of having it split down the middle.
    My co-worker did offer up that it can be ripped at an angle to attempt to hide the gap somewhat:
    Ways to rip

I’d be curious to hear what anyone has to say on how I should proceed… especially if you’ve had experience or horror stories with wood movement…

Tenon scrap yields the perfect material to make fox wedges.  It’s already more or less sized, length-wise and width-wise, to fit right into the tenon.

Since I’ve never done this before, I watched Kari Hultman’s video (explaining the fox wedged tenon) one last time to keep the confidence high. For the past few days, I’ve thought and thought and thought: how the hell am I going to make a small wedge safely?!  Use a saw?  That just strikes me like trying to kill a fly with a club.  Use a plane?  How the hell am I going to secure the wedge blank to plane it to a wedge?  Then it occurred to me: how ’bout the simple chisel?

Cutting the blanks from tenon scrapShaping the Wedges with chiselThe completed wedge

I initially chopped/split the blanks out in the vertical (as shown above), but this got a little precarious as the scrap stock got shorter and shorter. I found that splitting out the blanks from the scrap was far easier in the horizontal, just like the second picture above with how I shaped them.

I deviated from Kari’s video in two ways: my mortises were dovetail-shaped to account for the splayed tenon due to the wedge, and my wedges are slightly shorter than the tenons; I just don’t understand why you would want a wedge that is longer than the tenon? I just foresee this causing problems while trying to knock the tenon into the mortise.

Prepping the tenons went quickly.  No lines; just free-hand saw work where you drill at the stop of your cut:

CutDrillReady to go together

For ease of putting together, I lightly seated each wedge into the tenon cuts with a few gentle taps of the mallet. If I didn’t, the wedges had a tendency to fall out as I was lining the tenon up with the mortise; this was especially true on my final alignment where I was lining up four tenons simultaneously to connect the right side of the table base to the left.

Here you can see that it works… if you look close enough (probably on the expanded picture), you can see the wedges hammered home (I highlighted in green just for below), splaying the tenon and forever (hopefully) locking it into place:

Interior workings of the fox wedge

I have to admit, my original intent was to do this all without glue, but I did have one tenon that seemed slightly loose as I was dry-fitting prior to wedging it all up. I ended up using glue as an added precaution.

After allowing it to dry overnight, I’m left with this:

BGE Table Base

An immoveable fortress… exactly what I set out to build for outdoor use.  I know, it looks a little off from square in the picture, but I think it’s the super-wide lense I used that’s fish-eyeing it a little bit.  It all matches up with about 1/8″ variation from left to right.

Next up: the dilemma of the top.  It’s huge and undimensioned so far…

There’s a saying in the pilot community that goes like this: “you know you have the ultimate situational awareness (SA) of a circumstance when you realize that you have no SA at all.”  In other words, the man with the most wisdom is the one who knows he has no wisdom at all.  Profound, I know.

I spent the past two days at the European Woodworking Show; they picked a very appropriate venue for it at Temple Cressing Barns.  When you walk in, you’re presented with this:

Cressing Temple Barns

Cressing InteriorHighlights of the history for the place (since I always like the stories behind the objects): it was built by the Knights Templar in the 1200s on a grant of rural land they received from England.  It was a Templar farm, where the profits gained were used to fund the retake of Jerusalem.  Tree-ring dating (and the framing techniques used) date the felling of the trees in the early 1200s with the barns complete prior to 1300.  I couldn’t resist taking a picture of the interior framework at right.  The claim is that these barns are some of the oldest original wooden buildings left standing in the world.  Once the Templars were hunted down after the Pope claimed them heretics in 1308 (probably because they became more powerful than the Pope himself), the barns and accompanying land were bestowed upon the Knights Hospitaller.  Interesting indeed; if you want more, this pdf should quench your thirst.

As far as woodworking goes, many more booths were present than what these two old barns could hold.  The lawn outside had a temporary pavilion stood up with vendors inside and out, as well as open-air blacksmith demonstrations.

I eventually found the handtool epicenter buried underneath my nose in the barn on the right.  I walked in and was greeted by the same Templar architecture as the barn on the left, but with it accompanied a trove of familiar faces I’d only seen on DVDs and YouTube.


I had to chuckle: I was mid-conversation with John Hoffman and Chris Schwarz when my wife showed up and had no clue who they were… until she saw the Anarchist Tool Chest book and was like “are you the Anarchist guy?  We have your book in our bathroom!”  So on that note, you’ll have to forgive the quality of the pictures since I had only my iPhone (and I didn’t want to make a spectacle, or look like a star-struck tourist, of taking pictures with my massive Canon).

Unlike the last woodworking show I went to a month ago, I seriously felt dwarfed during this one… dwarfed by my lack of woodworking knowledge and experience.   I must’ve stood there like a wallflower for a few hours listening to Deneb (of Lie-Nielsen tools) talk to the passing-by Brits about sharpening, planing, and the use of Lie-Nielsen tools.  Most of these guys were asking legitimate, pointed questions that I would never think of… they were all professionals (or at least seemed to have been using handtools for a decade or so).  I was blown away… most of the conversation entailed gems that I’d never heard of.  This was one of those situations where I had absolutely zero questions because I didn’t even know what to ask: just keep talking please, so I can glean as much knowledge as I can from what you’re telling other people.

I think the culmination of my inadequacy as a woodworker came on Day 2 when I built up the courage to ask about bevel angles, toothed blades, and when and why to use the variations in pitch and toothed-ness.  Not only did Deneb give me the information I was seeking, but he also got me behind the workbench to experience the differences myself.  As I was planing, he and David Charlesworth gave me some critical pointers on planing techniques that I was completely butchering.  Awesome (with a hint sarcasm, but mostly in the good way)…

You see, that’s when all the SA came back to me: I have very little SA on good handworking habits. When you’re self-taught from books and DVDs (ie, learning in a vacuum), you have no one to tell you that you’re executing it wrong.  The DVDs can tell you the pitfalls blatantly, but you are the one that has to catch it, interpret it, and grade yourself on its execution.  If you don’t know you’re screwing it up, you really can’t rectify the situation until someone else points it out for you!

Case in point: my son got his first woodworking lesson from Deneb in planing, and now he’s better than I am!

Brenden taking a lesson in planing

I need to get out of the vacuum and into the classroom for some hands-on critiquing of my execution.  Luckily in the wake of this weekend, I was able to get Congressional approval (read: convincing the wife) to take David Charlesworth’s class on sharpening and basic tool usage sometime in the near future.  Chris Schwarz had also mentioned that the Brits coerced him into coming out sometime in 2014 to teach a jolly-good class as well, so that’ll be on my to-get-approved list too.  In the meantime, I have this winter to learn how to build a chair under master chairmaker Peter Tree.

Like I told Chris Schwarz: I’m a yellow belt in hand woodworking… I know just enough to get my ass kicked in a fight.  Sometimes you have to hit lows to eventually hit a high.  I’m awed and awakened by how much I don’t know, but hopefully over the next year I can progress to a green belt or something… because getting your ass kicked sucks.

PS> the Woodshow was truly awesome and educational as well… highly recommended!

I tend to look at the mortise and tenon like ye olde code of chivalry: ladies first. Even in a practical light, mortises are the “female adaptor” while tenons are the “male adaptor” of the joinery… so this analogy works out better than I initially thought.  In my limited experience, I’ve found it is far easier to chop out mortises first and later make the tenons to fit:  “Ladies first.”  Of course, you know that “always” and “never” contain a corollary.. mine is that when you’re doing a table-top-exposed-tenon, it’s the male that’s exhibitioning in that case: so I guess it’s “men first.”  But enough playful banter…

Let me preface everything: I am by no means a Master or have major handtool experience to back up what I’m doing. I simply do (and try to gain experience while I’m at it), getting the ideas from other’s blogs or from a book/DVD.  For now, I blog about what works for me in hopes that someone else will find it useful or perhaps step over the potholes I’ve stepped in…

With mortises finished, it’s on to the tenons.   Prior to sawing anything, I’ve found that making a “gutter cut” is extremely useful… Chris Schwarz calls these 2nd and 1st Class Saw Cuts (there’s also more useful info in that link, like an easy way of squaring a saw cut using reflections). I like to think of these “class” cuts as chiseled-out gutters to put my saw blade into (so it doesn’t hop all around as I try to start the cut).  Do it; it will be your best friend…

2nd Class Saw Cut

So I suppose anyone (like myself) can cut a tenon with enough patience and time.  But what I’ve enjoyed with handtools is the ability to cut sooner (and quieter) than I would with some machine; gone are the days where I fiddle with machines and scrap for a full day to mathematically measure out the perfect cut and trial it on multiple pieces.  Every joint is custom fit, and here is the most efficient way I’ve found to do this sans numbers (by using the width of your mortise chisel as your primary measurement):

Sizing up the mortiseTransferring over to the shoulderFinding the center

Marked and ready to cut the 2 registered cheeks and shouldersSaw the two portions of the tenonFrom the register, measure the opposite cheek

Lastly, dial in the final lengthMeasure that length against the actual tenon and mark...Test the tenon fit

***A word of caution with this technique: treat that mortise chisel like a loaded gun. Handle it positively and deliberately and ensure the path from it to the the ground is clear if you decide to measure in the vertical (like the 6th picture, where the blade is resting on the shoulder for stability). Otherwise, I measured everything else horizontally on the workbench. The initial three pictures are taken next to the mortise for ease of understanding; I had positive 2-hand control of the chisel for “picture taking.” But I actually made the mark using my workbench (below): the chisel rested horizontally on the workbench while I pushed my rail into it to mark the measurements with greater safety and stability (rather than holding the chisel in the air with one hand while marking with the other):

Measure safely

I’ve done 12 of the 16 so far… this method averages about 30 minutes per tenon (including the measuring) working at a leisurely pace. Tomorrow’s project will be fine-tuning the fit and converting all 16 of the tenons to the foxed variety.  More to follow…

With dimensioning complete, I gained a golden nugget of wisdom: cut first, plane later.  It saves you planing work.  Now onto the joinery.

Perhaps I’m repeating myself from previous posts, but one of the reasons I find doing things by hand so attractive is that it gives you the ability to stray from accuracy yet still be extremely precise (thereby, freeing you from the shackles of numbers).  What do I mean by this?  I don’t have to create some jig to to find a point exactly 28.5″ up the leg to drill out a mortise exactly ½” wide by 3″ long.  So without the numbers, how do you tackle the problem of cutting uniform mortises across four table legs?  Here’s what I came up with:

I  set the legs in their positions and determine which faces I want to be visible on the outside.  Once determined, I mark and rotate them 180° out and clamp (or rubberband) them together.  Now every face I see should contain a mortise (yet to be cut).  With a square, I marked around the outside circumference treating the four legs as one.  These marks will determine the length stops of my mortises:

Marking the Mortise for Legs

The last cog prior to actioning the mortise is figuring out the wall.  I eyeball it.  In my case, I want the rails and stretchers to bias the outside of the table, so I find a depth that looks “good enough” for me, set my depth/wall gauge (which in this case, is a little Starrett square), and draw my pencil line to it:


With measurements complete, anchor your piece down (I use 2 holdfasts) and start chopping.  How do you know what the other wall will be?  I’m using a ½” mortise chisel, so my walls will be ½” wide (and all I really care about is the near wall I marked).  When I saw the tenons, my ½” mortise chisel will also become the star performer in measuring those out (but that’s for the next post).

Mortises are always chopped perpendicular to the grain.  Start about 1/8″ from one stop (with the bevel away from the stop) and start chopping.  Make your way down until you’re about 1/8″ from the other stop (1), then reverse your bevel and start flowing the other way (2).  Keep doing this until you reach the depth that you want for the mortise and tenon.

Once I reached my depth, I intend on foxing these bad johnnies, so you make your final chops to the line of each stop (3), at an angle to create a dovetail-like crevasse (4):

First MortiseSec-Mortise
Third MortiseFour-Mortise

I usually stop twice during each “flow direction” to vacuum out the waste, which does kill a little time. When I was on my 16th and final mortise, I had this process down to about 15 minutes (from probably about 45 minutes) per mortise.  Though this isn’t my first time chopping mortises, I mainly learned my method by watching Roy Underhill; look around the 18-minute mark.

Next up: foxing the tenons and assembling the fortress.

And for the last lesson learned: I have a garage-born workshop.  Unless it’s really cold outside, the garage door stays open.  Unfortunately, this leaves a way in for visitors.  I also like to milk a tasty beverage while I work .  Since I’m in Britain, I’ve found a 2.7% abv ale that fits this role nicely (albeit, I’m sure one can make an argument against this during “Woodshop Safety Week/Day” or the like).  Unfortunately I get 2 or 3 thirsty visitors an hour (perhaps I should open a pub?).

The ProblemProblem Solved

The German’s are so smart…

I remember when I made the jump from pre-cut Home Depot Oak to rough-cut stock… half your time for the project is spent squaring the rough-cut stock down to the final sizes!  But the pre-cut Home Depot stuff is so limiting, boring and uniform.  I found that the effort spent starting from a rough-cut board and working from ground up was well worth the extra time because I could venture into a myriad of other woods and grain patterns besides “Oak.”

In Italy, I used a full-up industrial woodshop where I would buy my stock and dimension it.  Planers, table saws and belt sanders, oh my…  And it still took a full day’s work (if not two) to get everything cleaned off, squared, dimensioned, and ready for joinery.  Joinery will always be my favorite aspect of woodworking, but honing the rough stock has its own fun.  In fact, it’s almost like unwrapping a Christmas present: you never truly know the beauty of the grain underneath until you start unwrapping it by planing the layers away.

Here in Britain, I have only me and my hand planes.  That’s it.  When it comes to dimensioning the stock, it’s daunting.

Using the power machines in the Italy shop gave me peace of mind: I knew after I ran it through the machines that everything was square, exacting, and perfect.  By hand, I have to make compromises (in part, because I’m somewhat impatient).  It’d take me an entire day to gnat’s ass just one board to square and exacting.  I personally want to build and join, not fiddle around with a straightedge and micrometer for days on end.  Instead, I find myself asking “what truly needs to be flat?” and “what truly needs to be square?”  If it needs to be flat and square, then I’ll take the extra time to make it exacting.  Otherwise, there’s a point when “good enough” is truly good enough (though it still lacks that peace-of-mind perfection I like to have).

So here’s the 4-hour montage of readying just one board for joinery (the upper rails & stretchers).  They will ultimately be tenoned on both ends into the legs of the grill table.

Raw TimberScrub1Scrub2



The outdoor grill table I’m taking on is my case in point.  The rails and stretchers need to be relatively straight boards, but they absolutely need to be straight and square where they will butt up against the tabletop as well as tenon into the legs.  The other surfaces?  Well, who cares really.  They won’t affect the structural soundness at all, and I don’t think they will affect how it looks either.

That took about 5 hours today.  I’m sure things will speed up as I go.  Regardless of by power or by hand, dimensioning and squaring still remain time sucking processes.  I couldn’t help but think that if only I had the use of that industrial power shop in Italy, I’d have all the boards dimensioned and squared today.  Alas, I do not… but I will have the pride that this project will be made purely without electricity.

The next day or three: dimensioning the Elm legs that are caked in bird shit…

You know, while I’m at it making excuses for not woodworking over the past 6 months, let me throw one more onto the heap: picking up an old project, mid-build, is demotivating.  Mainly because you have to take some time to figure out what exactly it was that you were trying to do.

Do you know what is motivating?  Starting a new project (maybe that’s why so many woodworkers have about 5 projects going at any given time).

About a month ago, I bought this grill/smoker called the Big Green Egg.  Like an egg, it’s inherently unstable so you need to have a cradle for it to nest in.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t come with one and I do get a little nervous in using the grill in fear that it may tip over when I open the top up.   What to do, what to do… so the company sells a table to provide it stability:


Let’s see what $1150 (that’s about what £750 comes out to) will get you: a royal “fake” mahogany table that is “uniquely grained” in which you have to assemble with screws and bolts.  Now, I’m not downplaying Andiroba (aka, Royal Mahogany), but it is an economical substitute to Mahogany, making it a somewhat misleading name. In fact, let’s call Cubic Zirconia “Royal Diamond” instead…  I digress.  But for a price-point of over $1000 for a simple bolt-together outdoor table, I would fully expect it to be made of solid Mahogany!  You can keep your table, Big Green Egg; I’ll build my own.

From the Wood Fair I attended on Monday, I went to the wood supplier (“timber supplier”, they call it in Britain) that was recommended (2 minutes down the road!) and I was very pleasantly surprised.  He specializes in Elm, Yew (which is also a very beautiful wood), and Oak (meh…).  If you’ve followed this blog, you’ll know that I have a love affair with Elm.  It was also interesting to note that he supplies boards to Hearne Hardwoods over in the States (which I’ve drooled over while surfing the web).  He showed me a burl Elm log, cut into boards, while I was gathering wood for this build; I’m very intent on buying it at some point for $1600… (for ten 8/4 10′x15″ burred elm?!?!  That’s a steal!  That could make a matching dining-room set of 6-8 chairs, if not more!).  Again, I digress…

The detoured Plan:

Build a simple outdoor table to hold my grill (to prevent it from tipping) using bomb-proof joinery.  I don’t care if it has flaws or what type of wood it’s made of (so long as it’s strong)… and it’s a requirement to keep the price under $1000 (otherwise I might as well just get ripped off by Big Green Egg with their table).

The Plan
Above is all the wood I need to build this: 3″x3″ Elm posts (for legs), an 8/4 Oak slab (cut in half for book-matching) for the table top, and a few 4/4 7′x6″ Oak boards for my rails/skirts and shelving planks.  Of course, the dimensions of the design will change slightly to conform to the wood that I bought (example: 3″x3″ legs instead of 4″x4″ legs, or a table that’s 28″x57″ instead of 31″x57″), but every woodworking project usually goes through this same evolution.  The “musts” that I cannot bend on: 1) that it holds my 21″-diameter grill, 2) that the table is flat, and 3) that its joinery is solid.  That’s it.  The cost of this wood?  $225.  It sure beats $1150.

The purpose behind the plan:

Other than gaining a table for the grill, I want to get my hands re-acquainted with joinery on something that’s a few steps down from “furniture grade,” yet something practical that I can still use (I’m not a fan of doing joinery on scrap just for the sake of practicing joinery…).  Let’s face it, this will be an outdoor table prone to weather and its effects, so the joints don’t need to look good, but they do need to be tight.  This should leave a little leeway for errors should I happen to make one or two.  Bottom line: I get an opportunity at practicing a few more through-mortises with corresponding tenons before I continue my furniture builds of a living room table and a woodshop toolchest.

Talk is cheap, let’s get building.


Periods that entail a lot of change (like say, moving where you live, for example) really upset the routine.  I left Italy in a state of woodworking homeostasis.  As I built up my handtool workshop from nothing, I had a power-shop to fall back on… experienced help there to learn from… and an easy supply of wood (from the experienced help) to feed to my projects.  This is probably a major contributing factor to my lack of motivation lately; I just don’t know where to turn to.  Online has been the best idea I can come up with.

In my world-wide-web quest to find a good hardwood supplier, I stumbled across a site advertising a Wood Fair nearby.  The timing was right, since it took place on the following day.  So I saddled up the ol’ motorcycle (why a motorcycle, you ask?  I can’t bring home big purchases if I’m on the bike… it limits the spending) and was off this morning to check it out… and hopefully gain a starting point to finding a decent wood supplier.

I was greeted by an open-air concession ground.  I made my initial round quickly amongst the tents, making mental notes of where I wanted to stop for more detail once I took a tally of the place.

an English Wood Fair

The majority of the Fair consisted of carvers and turners trying to sell their wares, neither of which I foster a huge interest in… wares-wise, not skill-wise.  I tend to see a lot of carved or turned pieces as tchotchkes (which means “clutter that distracts from clean unadulterated space” in the Snakeye Dictionary).  Don’t read too much into my meaning though: both of those skill sets are invaluable when used to complement furniture or other showcase pieces.

There were, however, 3 stands that I did spend a lot of time at during my second go-around:

RAMaking Contact, a plane expert:

Rich Arnold caught my eye right away for two reasons: he owned some immaculate old wooden hand planes, and I saw what appeared to be an Anarchist’s Tool Chest (only built well before it was known as the Anarchist’s Tool Chest) holding his tools.

We talked about both.  Though he doesn’t sell the tools (he just collects them), Richard is an invaluable resource to ask about old planes and tools.  The tool chest in the background was his grandfathers (if I’m not mistaken) and preceded the Schwarz edition by almost 200 years, even though it exhibited almost all of the design features of the Schwarz edition.  I guess it just goes to show you that Chris truly did his research before penning his tribute to industrial defiance.  It interests me because I have the wood cut, shaped and set aside in my workshop to build this exact tool chest.

Richard then pointed me to an old tool reseller that was in my neck of the woods:

Iles ToolsConnection #2, a tool manufacturer:

The Old Tool Store was represented with a stand of tools both old and new.  There was something familiar with the proprietor’s name, and then it dawned on me: I had seen Ray Iles’ tools on Tools for Working Wood (a website store I frequent)!  I spent a while talking to Ray.  It turns out he’s only a 5-minute drive from where I live!  And not only does he make chisels, draw knives and drawbore pins, but he also makes plane irons as well (which works for me since I’m starting to dabble in making my own planes).  Moreover, his heart is in old tools, so I also have a vintage tool supplier five minutes away, which beats the shit out of Ebay.

Ray gave me the name of the guy he buys hardwood from, but called the guy from the next stall over to confirm (or see if he had any better suggestions for a supplier):

Connection #3, a chair builder:

Peter Tree did, in fact, confirm that he buys good hardwood boards from the same supplier (who is probably two minutes down the road from me, who would’ve guessed?).  But even better, Peter lives about 25 minutes from me and has strayed from carving and turning tchotchkes to producing pieces that were more in line with my interests:


Chairs.  I’ve actually been in hot pursuit to build 3 chairs now… I just haven’t worked up the guts to try them on my own (not to mention I have three other unfinished projects in the queue).  So, my 3 4 future chair builds:

MorrisHal Taylor RockerAncient Irish Chair

And the 4th is the Welsh Stick Chair (like the ones you see in the picture from Peter Tree’s work above; I prefer the Gothic one with the point).  The Welsh Stick Chair came about as a conglomeration with Brian over at Toolerable and Jonas over at Mulesaw: to meet up at some point, start a Welsh Stick Chair together, finish it at our places and blog about it while doing it… call the joint-project a “chair off.”

Regardless, I talked to Peter to see if he would be willing to take me under his wing (for a small fee, of course) so I could have a way of learning other than by DVDs.  I’ve never been to a woodworking class, but I think this will be even better because I get a 1-on-1 weekend-by-weekend apprenticeship with Peter to learn and build whichever chair I want.  This experience will be incomparable.

My point: this post is all about making connections.  Don’t be shy; seek out woodworking events (like Woodworking In America or European Woodworking Show or the like) and network with people that love the hobby like you do.  You never know when you’ll be reinvigorated… or when you’ll reinvigorate someone else.  From this one trip, I’ve found a tool expert I can rely on, a tool maker and supplier that’s five minutes from my house, a master craftsman that I can apprentice under, and a local wood supplier that they pointed me to.  I couldn’t have asked for a bigger “Win.”

Seriously.  After 3 months of waiting, the garage door has finally been repaired (it had been stuck open for decades apparently) to the new “home” I’ve designated for Snakeye Woodworks.  I’ll tell you what, though: after you haven’t done a thing for months on end, you start to lose your motivation.  I guess they call it “falling off the horse”?  You see, I now have all these projects that are in a  mid-build suspended animation.  Even worse, those months that have passed have brought new projects (like an outdoor table for the Big Green Egg grill/smoker I got).  With the accumulation of more projects, you almost feel paralyzed for action because you don’t know where to start.  I think a portion of the paralysis I feel is also attributed to truly being on my own now.   I have no industrial hobby shop (like the ones on US military bases) to fall back on and use.  It’s my shop or bust, and I haven’t had a shop for almost 5 months now.

Anyway, once my landlord had the the door repaired so it could open and close, the rest fell into place with an electrician and a flooring guy.  For a view of the hurdles I had to overcome (for comparison’s sake), it’s two posts back.

Presenting the new Snakeye Woodworks

Presenting the new Snakeye Woodworks (finally)

Now that the flooring and lighting are installed, I finally had some free time this weekend to start cleaning the area out.

Snakeye Woodworks

The first thing to do was to unpack all my tools that had been sitting in boxes since February.  It was almost like Christmas again!  Now the issue is where to put everything.  Those cabinets you see are pretty disgusting and need a good cleaning out.  For now, everything is sitting on the bottom shelf of the workbench… all the more reason to get off my ass and build the Anarchist’s Tool Chest I started in Italy.

Half of today was wasted going to the UK version of Home Depot to buy some brackets and pinewood shelves.  I haven’t installed them yet.  Though I also bought an 8′ long strip of pinewood; it makes an excellent (and inexpensive) clamp holder.

Clamp Organization

The window took me at least an hour to clean.  About 8 spiders and a decade’s worth of dirt and dust accompanied the window.  Now that it’s clean, it’ll make a nice companion to the workbench for woodworking during daylight hours.

A Workbench's best friend: A window
Snakeye WoodworksAnd when darkness sets in (as it’s starting to in the pictures), the electrician installed 2 fluorescent tube lights.  I just have to take care and shut the garage door if I’m working at night to stave off the moths and mayflies.

Hopefully the production of furniture will follow soon.  Next weekend will be dedicated to installing the shelves along the walls of the shop; hopefully that will provide a temporary resting place for my tools (chisels, planes, etc) until that tool chest gets built. Moreover, with the dampness of the UK, I’ll definitely have to keep oil on the tools… especially when they’re out and vulnerable.

The following weekend I’ll be attempting to tackle the short-notice outdoor grill table, because I can’t use my damn grill until I get it nested inside a table (it tips pretty easily without it).  And I really want to grill – the Brits just can’t do it like the Americans can, and I miss a good smoked brisket and ribs.  I’m still building my cutlist for it and trying to find a place that I can buy raw timber.  I think softwood is the way to go to get this done quickly, so I’m considering Cedar for this project.

Hopefully by then, the shop will be routine and I’ll regain the same level of motivation I had prior to leaving Italy.  Usually it just takes a little bit of re-exposure to get back on the horse…

Yes, I’m still waiting impatiently for a place to put my woodshop.  In the meantime, I’ve just been doing some easy tool refurbishing (really though, without a workshop, that’s about all I can do).

Just before I left Italy to move to England, Stefano gifted me a Bow Saw that had been in his family for a little over a century.  His great grandfather used it; it was 100% Italian-made (by hand!) and used.  Stefano said that he had no use for it since he doesn’t often use hand saws… it had just been sitting around.  I don’t know how I was worthy enough to receive such a storied heirloom, but I’m truly thankful for it!

I could tell it hadn’t been used in years (which makes it easy to honor a gift such as this just by using it).  All the wood was this drab brown color and it was dry as a bone; when I picked it up it almost felt as though I was holding balsa wood!

Here it is prior to me starting to tinker with it a lot.  (To come clean: I already started sanding the cross arm and the tightening pin in the picture below before I realized maybe I should take a picture… and then I reassembled the arms upside-down: they wouldn’t be able to hold the tightening string in the current configuration).

The Raw Bow Saw
Before I started lightly sanding it (and I do mean lightly), I glued up some areas that were cracked due to old age. In the meantime, Stefano showed me how to clean the blade with some cleaner and steel wool and, in the process, brought the blade up to 80% cleaned.  So now I have a little work left on the blade at this point.  Once the glue was dry, I used some fine-grit sand paper and tried to lightly erase that brown drab and resurface with the next layer underneath.  I took great care here because I did not want to take out the little nicks, the imperfections, the slight grooves from a century of use… I wanted to try to retain the life story of this remarkable tool.  When people see it, I want to have visual proof of a Jointer’s story from Italy who handed it down from father to son multiple generations.  I don’t want a brand new looking tool that is to the same specs and dimensions; that would just require some new wood and replicating the build I currently have in front of me.  I want the story.

I really don’t classify this as a huge project, because it consists of careful sanding and finishing, and not building.  After sanding, I could even tell what wood the saw was made from: the blade arms look to be of Elm, while the cross arm and tightening pin look to be of Yellow Pine.  The wooden nuts that hold the saw look like Beech.  With sanding complete, I use my standard working-tool finish: Boiled Linseed Oil.

Even the first coat of oil brought out the old beauty of the saw.  I overnight-soaked all the parts individually (including the tightening string) and let it dry, rubbing off the excess oil once a day.

Italian Bow Saw

I can’t wait to use it.  Thanks, Stefano, for such a wonderful gift.