News and Announcements

--News & Announcements--
Upcoming projects:
Continuation of the Mandola project
Conclusion of bookbinding
Metallurgical Science behind Heat Treating

Monday, February 1, 2016

Bowyering II- Delaminated Longbow


It has been quite some time since I posted anything archery related here and thought a recent project would be the perfect opportunity to reconnect with a good number of people who come here after watching the longbow video I made a number of years ago. Since making that first bow, I have always wanted to make a laminated longbow somewhere in the 100# draw range. Recently, I found a local lumber yard that deals in the finer species rather than construction grade material. In the storeroom, I found a 16ft long Ipe board that was originally destined to become someone's bannister railing. Ipe, a species of ironwood, is extremely dense, hard, and naturally resistant to fire and rot. For bows, I have heard that it is a very powerful wood, but the grain can be extremely difficult to work.

As a preface to this post, this bow did not survive the tillering process. The Ipe was horribly unsuited for use in a bow, and as a result shattered. I went into the project knowing that this might happen but decided to move forward if nothing more than for the experience of laminating a bow. The techniques and process are the same regardless of the nature of the wood, only the final result being the difference. Next time, I may try a more predictable wood that has fewer grain reversals and holds to generally more favourable characteristics than the Ipe (and the curly maple backing).


To begin, the Ipe board needed to be cut to size. Without a table saw or band saw, the entirety of this project was done by hand. If you have never worked in the ironwood family, it doesn't have the name for nothing. The wood is extremely hard and is havoc on saws. I needed to sharpen the saw three times over the course of cutting about 20ft of wood.


Originally, I was hopeful that I could manage between 6 and 9 bows out of the board, assuming the first one survived (which it didn't, so now there is a load of Ipe lying around), which means ripping the width twice to yield three staves. Because it took nearly six hours to make the first rip cut, I left the remainder for a later date.


Because the bow will be laminated to other boards, it does not need to be as thick as the final bow. About 2" wide by 1.5" thick, there is a lot that will be removed, but that was my rough starting dimension for the Ipe.


The saw's kerf was not terrible for how much energy went into making the cut. It did, however, warp a bit as I cut, which I have not been able to figure out. Possibly due to the friction of the saw causing undue heat stress...


To prepare the surface for lamination with a red oak core, I planed the surface flat. This was when I realized the grain was about as bad as is possible to be for a bow. In the above picture you can see how it is diagonal across the entire length of the stave, where ideally it would be perfectly in line with its length. One thing that confused me was how irregular it is on the other sides. logically, you would see the same pattern and terminus on the three other sides, but on the face opposite it was much closer to in line with the length rather than running across. On the two sides, it was a total nightmare and almost entirely nonsensical.


Here it seems better, but who can say? Ipe is, I was pleased, a generally nice looking wood that darkens significantly over time. The uncut board is closer to a blend between dark walnut and mahogany whereas the freshly planed face is as seen above.


Now that I have a squared board to work with, I marked the centre, 3ft. All the dimensions for this are comparable to those of the English longbow I posted years ago.


Similarly, I marked the centre of the stave at the middle. Due to the warping from the long cut, I could not simply mark the centre of the two ends, as it would no longer be in the centre at the middle. To compensate for this, I marked the centre of the middle and found the least distorted straight line across the entire length.


That was done by pinning the end of a string on one end and running it to the other with a weight tied to it. Before, I used a drywall chalkline, but I did not have ready access to one this time so I had to improvise with what was on hand. To find the path of closest symmetry, I moved one end of the string until the centre was in line, and if it was too far to one side, shift it back a hair and return the centre to centre by moving the other end.


After a bit of trial and error, I marked a few key places on the stave and began laying out the taper for the limbs.


Then more long rip cuts. There was really no good way to go about cutting the Ipe. I was hopeful that it might be faster to use planes or draw knives or spoke shaves, but the saw still won out.


Some hours later, one limb was cut about 3/4 of the way to the handle. I stopped short because I was tired of cutting and the amount of material being cut rapidly approached the width of the saw.


Sharpening the saw again, then onto the second limb.


Finally, it started looking like a bow and less like a stick.


To match the taper of the limb back to the handle, it was at last time to retire the saw and turn to planes.


Between the jack plane and jointer plane, the limbs took an even taper from a 2" handle to 1/2" tip.


Several years ago I found a pair of very straight grained red oak boards that would be perfect for backing a bow. Since then, they have ridden around in my trunk. A little worse for wear, they have several surface dents and scratches that needed to be planed out but overall were still perfect for the occasion.


An extra foot long each, I found the best three foot lengths of each of them and cut away the excess. I was looking for the most consistent grain patterns, least amount of damage, and best match to the paired board.


Due to the grain not running parallel to the edge, I fixed that by planing down the edges to form a secondary rectangle inside the original shape of the board. About twice as wide as I needed, there was plenty of material for me to work with.


By cutting and jointing the new edges, I also have a surface against which can register the side of my shooting board. This allows me to square the end with respect to the grain direction, an important part of aligning the two pieces of oak in the middle of the bow.


After the boards are square, the surfaces need to be prepared for gluing. Due to the previously mentioned superficial damage, I planed the sides that would be face down and glued to the Ipe. I only worked one side for the time being due to the nature of thin material to easily deform against my less than pristine bench.


Although the surface was fairly smooth after the jointer plane operations, I used a cabinet scraper briefly to remove some of the hairline scratches leftover.


Now the three pieces (one Ipe and two Oak) were ready for gluing. In spite of my clamp deficiency, I managed to supplement the clamps with various weights.


Due to the rectangular nature of the oak and trapezoidal form of the Ipe, there was a considerable amount of excess oak that needed to be trimmed. With the plane it was a quick operation that brought the overall stave to a consistent form.


Here, I was also able to check the seams. During another project, I had considerable trouble with humidity changes causing thin boards to heavily warp. Fortunately, the oak came out without any of the cupping, leaving behind a seamless joint. More clamps in a parallel jaw configuration would have been a better and more predictable solution to the problem, but in the moment all I had were heavy objects.


Before adding the final board to the lamination, I tapered the oak slightly to match the later tillering of the Ipe. At the tips, there is less force applied than the centre of the bow, so the limbs need to be proportionally thinned in order to compensate. While I could have done this strictly with the Ipe, I thought it would look visually more appealing to taper both the oak stripe and maple backing.


Concurrently with the bow project, I was building a kitchen table that had bands of curly maple in both the top and legs. There was a bit of extra maple, so I cut decided it would be a nice backing material. 


Scribing a line at approximately 1cm, whose overall thickness would later be a bit less, it was back to the saw for a final rip cut.


Shortly before this cut, I had to sharpen the saw again, which also compared to the Ipe made the maple feel as though it were foam rather than wood. 


Just over 6 feet in length, I left a little bit of excess to be trimmed later so the tillering operations would not dent what would become the tips of the limbs, instead sacrificing the overhang.


Now that I have the maple I can begin checking on the symmetry of the core. At the middle, the oak is at full thickness for the length of the handle, which is 3 inches from centre in both directions for a total of 6 inches.


At the tips, the thickness is somewhere around  2 mm although I do not recall the exact measurement. Because the majority of the power will be coming from the Ipe, that dimension is not critical as long as it is not too small.


With those two measurements marked, I used the jointer plane to make an even relief between thicknesses.


Then added glue. The curly maple I cut had one face that was already jointed, so I used that as the glue surface rather than going through the effort of jointing the one I cut. Planing material to an even thickness is easier for me in my current shop when it is backed by a thicker material that does not bend to the shape of whatever is underneath it. That allows me to be more precise overall, making one face pristine then waiting to work the other if the project allows.


Same as before, clamps and weights in excess. Due to temperature swings, I had to leave this clamped for two days.


Once cured, it was back to work. As with the oak, there was some overhang that needed to be trimmed down before tillering.


At first I thought it would be reasonably fast to use the plane, but there was so much material that I turned to chisels for very rough but rapid removal.


Then, the edges were made flush with the slightly more delicate planing. This curly maple is what I had problems with before, but here it behaved and left me with no gaps anywhere along the length of the joint.


Just when I thought I was done cutting, I returned to the saw for a final time in cutting the belly taper. This served as the first step towards tillering, allowing the limbs to bend more evenly along their length. Since this was intended to be a much heavier draw than the other bows I made, the cut was not at an exact distance, but rather a starting point for the subsequent removal.


After both limbs were cut, I blended the final corner near the handle into the taper, same as with the profile earlier.


Transitioning from a square or rectangular cross section, I used the spoke shave. This is new from the other post many years ago, as I was not overly familiar with how to set the irons at the time and strictly used a plane. The Ipe, due to its horrible grain issues, proved difficult for the plane, as it kept reversing in direction. With the spoke shave and later drawknife, I was better able to navigate the limbs and see what precisely I was doing. And, these tools are generally better suited to this sort of work anyway.


At the handle transition, I could not fit the spoke shave in the radius, so it was done entirely with the drawknife.


Set to around 45 degrees, I laid out the lines for the nocks. These would become temporary tillering nocks cut deeper (on a thicker limb) so as to better accept the string without slipping at low angles of draw.


Similarly, I extended the nocks to the front of the limbs. Some people do not do this for the potential of splitting the backing wood, but again, the limbs are thicker than they ultimately would have been, so that trough would be removed entirely before the end.


With some semblance of tapered limbs, I did a quick test to see how they bent with regards to one another and as a check for any hinges. There is still a long way to go.


A few hours into tillering, I decided to transition into removing maple rather than the Ipe, as the maple is far softer and relatively non essential to the power of the bow. By removing the backing, it allows the shear line (where there is neither compression nor tension in the wood) farther into the Ipe. Due to the grain problems, this means less chances for grain related failure. 

Then, it was back to working the Ipe. Every handful of minutes, I would string the bow and bend it, checking for symmetry and hinges.


Then, I felt rather than heard a crack begin to pass through the bottom limb. An imperceptibly small amount of time later, the limb shattered and there were splinters everywhere. About half way down the bottom limb, the Ipe failed, taking with it tremendous bits of oak and maple. There were three main pieces, the one still tied to the tillering string taking with it a bite of my left hand. Fortunately, most of the energy went into breaking the wood rather than turning it into projectiles.

Although I was half expecting this to happen, it was still disappointing after having invested as much time into it as I had. By recording the process, it also gave me the opportunity to share more of my failures, which to me are often times more valuable, as they show you in very real ways what happened to the contrary of your practical expectation. Next time, perhaps the lamination will survive.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

The Luthier: Part VIII- Neck Construction

With the start of the new year behind me, I thought that the remainder of this project would come together fairly quickly. Three or four major questions lay before me after finishing the internal framework, and all save one have to do with the neck. Foremost of these is how to join the neck with the body in a way that is both precise and stable, able to handle the tension of the strings without causing catastrophic damage to the body yet simultaneously looking visually unobtrusive. That problem I saved for a later post, as first I needed to actually make the neck and navigate the various aspects which, to someone who has never played a stringed instrument of the sort, are entirely foreign.


To begin, I first needed to figure out what wood to use for the neck. I had a plank of sapele, which is vaguely related to mahogany (and through advertising schemes is sold as a similar species although really unrelated), but it was a bit too uniform for my intention. The wood itself is nicely figured and pleasing to the eye, but there is minimal variation and I wanted something more. It was then that I remembered I had strips of rosewood left over from the sides, which happened to be nearly the exact same width as the sapele.


So, I got to work and found the centre of the sapele board to rip.


Concurrently, I have been working on building a dining table, so ripping boards has been the bane of my past few weeks. Each time I need to make a long cut, it has been with an enormous amount of begrudging reluctance. Fortunately sapele is fairly easy to cut, unlike some of the harder species I have been working.


Despite the edges being extremely close in height across the entire length of the two halves, I decided to joint them anyway. The outside, uncut edges would have been fine for the glue surfaces after a bit of truing with the jointer plane, but I had the fortunate realization that it would be far easier later on to have a square board to work with.


As with the tops and backs, I used the same trick of planing, jointing, then turning one board around and re-jointing. This is the fastest and easiest way I have found to help ensure that the two boards are the same width across their entire length.


Late last year I picked up a few new tools, one of which being a straight edge. Although a longer one would have been better suited here, it did the trick just fine. All along the length, I checked for any gaps, of which I found none.


Now that the surfaces are jointed, I introduced the rosewood stripe. This will follow the centre of the neck, visible only on the back side (because the fretboard will be on top of this assembly).


Once again, my severe lack of clamps makes this needlessly difficult.


A day later, the board is ready to be surfaced. After scraping the glue away with chisels, it's onto the planes. At this time, I was worried about the wild swings in humidity that came through. There were a few nasty bits of cupping that happened to a curly maple board as it was being glued, causing large gaps to open along the seam. Fortunately, I had no trouble with the sapele, whose dimensions were a bit more stable for the joints.


Splendid.


Next up it's figuring out how to angle and attach the headboard. With the advice of some more experienced woodworkers than myself, I eventually came to a reasonable solution that did not involve a precariously small glue surface.


Cut to length and oriented so the grain would be as uninterrupted as possible, I marked a 14 degree angle on the neck (left) that will join with the headboard (right). Here, I made absolutely certain not to unseat the angle once I traced it, as it will be used a second time for the headboard.


As a brief interlude, this is how I establish lines for cuts that need to be particularly precise. First, once the line is drawn, I take a straight edge and scribe the line fairly deeply with a marking knife. If it is bevelled, have the flat of the edge on the side of the cut you will be keeping. That way, the scribed line has a perpendicular knife wall on the important side of the cut rather than an angled one.


Next (ignoring the other lines drawn on there) take a chisel and carefully pare away wood towards the scribed line. I will be keeping the right side of the line and discarding what is on the left, so I work from the left towards the line. This preserves the perpendicular corner established by the marking knife. Now, there should be a wedge shaped line cut into the board.


Finally, take the saw and seat it in that newly formed channel, aligning the edge with the perpendicular knife wall. The rest is down to good hand saw technique.


Before starting this project, I would have been terrified to try and make a cut like this, being wide, deep, and demandingly precise. Along the way, I have learned more than I expected, and already have the confidence to move forward. Practise, as they say, makes perfect (not that this is remotely close to perfect, but you get the idea).


With the support of another board, I cleaned up the cut with a block plane, removing only enough to take out the last of the saw kerf.


Checks out. Parallel, plane, and square.


At this point, things are positioned a bit backwards. The leftmost piece will actually be underneath the length of the neck, but I needed to position it to verify the angle of the cut as well as the thickness. That lien scribed along the length of the block about a third of the way down from the top is where it will be resawn, then the angle following the top side of the longer neck where the angle will be cut.


Once more, a cut that would not have gone well a year ago.


A wee bit of cleaning with the plane and it's ready for cutting the scarf.


Same operations as before, mark, scribe, chisel, and cut.


Sawing action shot.


And here is the position of the neck. Originally, I intended on having the scarf be on top of the neck, but the way the dimensions worked out, that was not possible. Instead, I flipped it around and brought it to the bottom. On top of that joint will be attached a faceplate of matching Bolivian Rosewood which has been used in the sides, back, and centreline of the neck.


Gluing this joint was a bit tricky. Because it is essentially two wedges, any pressure tries to spread them apart. After a bit of trial and error, I eventually got it seated, but not without about half a degree of rotation towards the bottom corner. Once the head is shaped, it should not be noticeable.


Fortunately, the humidity did not destroy this joint either. Post planing operations, it is almost invisible on the edges.


Preparing the face for the rosewood overlay was a bit tricky, as there was no good way to hold the neck to the bench with the 14 degree bend in it. Doing it half at a time, then blending in the middle did well enough. And, despite being wondrously smooth, the seam is harshly visible because of the change in grain direction.


Nearly there. The neck side is still about ,1mm lower than the rest. Easy enough to fix, but extremely important. PVA glues, like the one I have been using, is not designed to be a gap filling glue, meaning if there are gaps it will probably not be filled.


All nice and flat. The rosewood faceplate suffered a bit of warping from the humidity swings, and proved difficult to flatten because it is so thin. In the end, as good as I could manage had to be good enough.


If I could have fit more clamps on there, I would have. Again, because it is so thin, pressure distribution is not ideal, so the more the merrier.


Using the spokeshave, I removed the majority of the excess rosewood, then back to the planes.


Based on the dry assembly, I knew the edges would be the worst part, and with the joint clean I am satisfied with how it came out.


Just a quick trim of the far end of the headboard.


And a rabbet plane to square where the nut (raised bit that aligns the strings) will go.


Before moving forward, I decided to check one last time for flatness on the length of the neck. Looks good.


Based on my particular fretboard configuration, I cut the neck to length, adding an inch and a half for the joinery to the body.



Next up is figuring out the taper for the neck. Widest at the joint with the body, I did some math and came up with a 2,25" width at the base, and something narrower that made sense in fractional form at the end of the neck.


Thereafter, it was as simple as connecting the dots and making some long cuts.


I was a bit worried that the sapele would not be symmetric across the rosewood. At intervals along the cut, I checked with the callipers and it was all within the accuracy of the readout, so I suppose I can be convinced.


For this next part, I had a great deal of deliberation. I was not certain there would be enough of the neck cutoff to build up material for the joint, and I did not have anything else I could use as a substitute. I tried to devise a number of alternatives from veneering the sapele on something else, to having a secondary internal joint, to a handful of other, worse alternatives. In the end, I just went for it and it seems to be alright.

The heel of the neck needs to be as tall as the body, so I measured that and began cutting the last piece of laminated sapele.


To accommodate the radius, the bottom piece needed to be far longer than the others, which was worrying to the remaining material at my disposal.


At this stage, the only important part of alignment was the strip of rosewood. To appear as one solid piece of wood, the stripe needed to match perfectly on both sides, meaning there was zero room for error when tightening the clamps.


After drying, the excess was trimmed off to match the angle of the neck taper.


Lovely. The seams virtually disappeared, save for the changes in grain direction.


One of the last things for this post is to route the channel for the truss rod. Going into the project, I did not know that these existed, much less what they do and that I need one. Essentially, truss rods apply tension either up or down on the neck to compensate for the tension of the strings. It is a pair of metal rods that deflects at the turn of a screw on one end, causing it to bow up or down.


Through the use of chisels and a router plane, I carved the channel according to the instructions of the manufacturer, but without actually having the rod. This was one of the major delays, as I could not move forward with the final fit until the truss rod arrived.


,25" wide by ,375" deep, the groove began the same as any other, lines scribed and marked. Routing this channel was absolute anarchy. The sapele grain did not make a wit of sense, it going one direction on the flat and another on the perpendicular walls, with the rosewood opposite that.


When the groove was deep enough to begin use with the router plane, it went a bit better, and fortunately I had a 1/4" blade for it, which removed one level of uncertainty with the precision of the cut. This being one of my first opportunities to use the router plane, I was impressed with the control and ease of use. I need to sharpen the irons, but otherwise it worked like a dream.


Checking the depth at various places. Another advantage of the router plane is that it makes it very difficult to have an uneven depth.


Returning now to the heel block, waiting for the truss rod to come in, the back end is prepared for squaring. This will maybe change later as I figure out the angle of the neck in relation to the body, but I would rather have this prepared for that now.


Like hand sawing veneer only end grain...


And the curve of the block. I thought the coping saw would be a bit less accurate after cutting the overly wide neck block for the body, and this cut has far less room for error. The small end is already pushing the limits for how short it is, and having a cut out of square could have been catastrophic. Luckily it all worked out (for now).


At this point it is starting to look like I hoped it might. The cut, although still rough, has virtually no sign of the seams on either face and the shape seems to be appropriate.


Early in the shaping of the underside, I thought about using the spoke shave or draw knife. but each time I picked it up I had a horrible vision of it utterly destroying the wood after catching errant grain. So, I took the slightly longer, and I realized after the fact that it was truly very slight, and used rasps and files. A pattern maker's rasp would have been nice to have, but the regular old hardware store rasp and an old file did the trick. On the larger flats, I also used an old farrier's rasp, retired from being used on hot steel, which is extremely aggressive on wood.


With that take care of, it was back to the head. I intended to shape the head entirely in this post, but it is already excessively long and there are some uncertainties with how the tuning pegs need to be aligned. So instead, I made the first cut to ease the transition. The removal of the corners also allows the router plane to travel forward by another half inch or so, which helped clean the end of the truss rod channel previously worked entirely by chisels.


A quick trip with the coping saw and it's ready for rasps. Here again I was concerned I might find that the joint between the faceplate and neck would reveal gaps, but there were none to be had.


Finally, the truss rod arrived and I could fit the end of the channel to seat it properly. I used a scrap bit of leather against the faceplate to prevent damaging it, and chiselled down to expand the groove just slightly where the router plane cannot reach.


And that's it! The truss rod is ready for action and all is well. There is still a fair amount of work to do with the neck, namely dealing with the fretboard which goes over the truss rod, and all manner of joinery to the body.