Author: fitz

How do you build a saw bench…without a saw bench? In The Naked Woodworker, Mike Siemsen shows how to begin with a length of 2 × 6 and a pair of 5-gallon buckets. It would appear that 5-gallon buckets aren’t really a thing in Ecuador, as I haven’t been able to find any. I did manage to purchase a couple of reasonably sturdy buckets, but they’re shorter than I would like.

While it may be feasible to build a saw bench without a saw bench, I think even Mike Siemsen would have trouble building one without a saw. The only saws that I brought with me were joinery saws, and so aren’t suitable for rough cutting lumber to size. As I mentioned in my previous installment, the saw that I bought at the Mega Kywi looked passable but not that great. As it turns out, I was being optimistic. After a few cuts (in pine), I decided that I wasn’t going to get anywhere unless I sharpened the saw. As delivered, the saw was filed punched straight across (no fleam), with a rather aggressive rake angle. So it actually rips softwood decently well, albeit with so much set in the teeth that the cut wanders like an Amazon tributary.

There are plenty of instructions and videos available online (and also in The Naked Woodworker) that show how to file a saw, but they all involve two things that I don’t have: (1) a saw vise, purpose-built or makeshift, to hold the saw during filing, and (2) a bench upon which to mount said vise.

I spent a full two days pondering the question of how I was going to file this saw without these two crucial tools, but finally hit upon a solution: I removed the handle from the saw and sandwiched the blade between two 2 × 4’s held together with a pair of screws, passing through two holes in the blade. I didn’t yet have anything to mount this “vise” onto, but at least it was substantial enough that I could hold it down on a table top with one hand while I filed with the other.

The vise ended up working pretty well, if not the most comfortable way to file a saw. It took me three passes of jointing and shaping the teeth until I was reasonably happy. These passes were straight across; I then took one more pass to add some fleam. The goal was to end up with a hybrid rip/crosscut saw, having a negative rake angle of about 1:4 (14°) and a fleam angle of about 1:5 (11°).

The saw crosscuts decently now, and the steel is hard (maybe a little too hard for easy filing), so I think it will work. It still has far too much set, but I don’t think there’s much I can do about that without risking damage.

Ripping is still a chore, but the saw was cheap enough that I might buy another and set the pair up as dedicated rip and crosscut saws, which should help. I’m expecting some visitors from the U.S. in about a week and a half, and I’ve arranged for them to bring down a couple of good saw files, which should ease the pain.

This particular saw had an interesting little feature that I hadn’t noticed when I bought it: a specialized bloodletting tooth at the heel of the blade. As I already donate more than enough blood while woodworking, I decided to defang my saw and remove the tooth.

In related news, my first trip to Aserradero San Morita (aserradero = sawmill) was productive. I neglected to take any photos while I was there, but I will try to do so next time. The place is pretty big, and I only saw a small part of it, but there were piles and piles of boards in all shapes and sizes. It was in many ways a scaled-down version of Midwest Woodworking in Cincinnati, and I got the impression that they do similar kinds of things that Midwest used to do, selling some lumber, doing custom millwork, etc.

Even though walk-in customers are clearly not their main focus, the guy I spoke with was patient enough with my meager Spanish to help me out. It was there that I learned that my interpretation of colorado as being synonymous with quebracho (“axe breaker”) was incorrect, and that in Ecuador, at least, colorado is Eucalyptus grandis x urophylla, better known in the U.S. as Lyptus®.

Lyptus has a mixed reputation. Some people claim that it is unstable and therefore unsuitable for furniture and the like, while others say that it is great to work with. The difference in opinion may at least in part be due to differences in origin, as it is known that Lyptus from different plantations can have significantly different appearance and working characteristics. (You can even buy single-origin Lyptus from Uruguay, if you’re willing to pay the premium.)

I bought two boards, about 1 1/8″ thick by 9″ wide, and just under 8′ long. Both boards have some end checks and the like, but they’re straight, clear and show no signs of warp or twist. The price worked out to $2.50 per board foot, about a third of the cost in the U.S. In addition to the Lyptus, which seems to be the favored wood for furniture and cabinetry in Ecuador, I saw some seique (known as tornillo in the U.S.) and some pine that did not look like P. radiata. They clearly had other kinds of wood in stock, but I didn’t want to take up more of their time than I had to; I’ll do some exploring later.

–Steve Schafer

The Pelican case and its contents have arrived safely in Ecuador. One of the two locks on the case, however, did not make it. R.I.P.

We are now reasonably settled into our rental house, so it’s time to think about woodworking. While I believe I have pretty much all of the “real” tools I expect to need, I’m otherwise going to be bootstrapping this entire operation from scratch, so I need to buy some Stuff.

First stop was Ecuador’s version of the big box store, the Mega Kywi:

The Kywi stores are a lot like big box stores in the U.S., although the relative sizes of the different departments are different. They don’t have much of a garden section, for example, but they have plumbing fixtures out the wazoo. Like our big box stores, they’re tailored more to the do-it-yourselfer and homeowner than to professionals.

I was surprised to discover that they don’t have any of the standard-issue handsaws with uncomfortable handles and induction-hardened teeth that are omnipresent in the U.S. There were some Stanley saws that looked okay (well, not really), so I bought a 20″ 8 ppi one. I also bought a (too big) triangular file with the expectation that the saw would need some work. I could have bought a more appropriately sized file, but only as part of a set.

Among the hammers were these strange beasts:

The handle is a piece of galvanized steel tubing that’s swaged into the head. They were cheaper than the conventional hammers to the right ($8 vs. $13), but as you might imagine, they did not exactly fall naturally to hand.

These drawknives were hanging next to the saws:

You can’t really tell from the photo, but they’re very roughly ground, and don’t have any kind of brand marking. I thought $38 was a lot to ask for one.

Prices in Ecuador are weird. Food is generally pretty inexpensive, but other stuff is unpredictable. If it’s something that’s made in Ecuador, it’s usually reasonable, but if it’s imported, the price depends on whether or not it’s classified as a necessity or a luxury item. So some imported things cost about the same as in the U.S., while others are double or triple. A medium-sized Coleman ice chest is nearly $100. In our local supermarket, there is a locked glass case in the liquor department containing, among other things, four bottles of Johnny Walker Blue Label (I’ve never seen that much Blue Label in the same place at the same time) at $551 each.

One thing I forgot to pack with me is a countersink, and I have yet to find anyone that sells one here, which is strange since there are plenty of flat head screws for sale. I may have to have my brother-in-law bring one down when he comes to visit. Chris will be happy to hear that Kywi sells unplated flat head steel screws with slotted heads. Unfortunately, they appear to be available only in relatively large sizes, too big for hinges and the like.

Kywi doesn’t sell lumber, although they do have a small selection of rather pathetic looking sheet goods. So next up is the maderera (wood merchant). An architect acquaintance gave me a couple of suggestions for local wood suppliers, but I haven’t yet had a chance to check them out. At least one of the ones he mentioned sells colorado, which is known by the name quebracho in the U.S. Quebracho means “axe breaker,” which is apt, since its Janka hardness of 4570 lbf makes it the hardest commercially available wood species in the world. I don’t know if I have the courage to try it out.

Yesterday, we drove by the two places to figure out exactly where they were. Being that it was Sunday, they were both closed, so I didn’t get to see what they had in stock. In general, it looks like Monterey pine (Pinus radiata) is the common softwood, while blue gum (Eucalyptus globulus) is the “utility” hardwood. Both species are plantation-grown.

As we were heading back from our quest, my wife noticed a small shop (also closed) with a sign reading herramientas para madera (“woodworking tools”) out front. So this afternoon, I walked into town to do some grocery shopping as well as check out this store. It turned out not to be of much interest, stocking mostly the same kinds of tools that Kywi has. They did have a much better selection of cabinet hardware, though, and despite not having the slightest clue what the Spanish term for it was, I was able to find a sliding bolt latch to replace a broken one on one of the windows at the house.

During my walk, I passed by a place that I had driven by several times but never noticed from the car. They stock a variety of sheet goods along with some S4S pine (madera cepillada = “planed wood”):

The prices seem a bit on the high side, but the (roughly) 2×8 boards look suitable for a workbench. And given that the place is about a five-minute walk from the house, I can easily pick up a board (or two) and carry it home without worrying about how to fit it in the car. Maybe not the 13-ft 2×8’s, though.

— Steve Schafer

I’m going to be living in Quito, Ecuador for the next six months. I wanted to bring some tools with me to try out on those notorious tropical hardwoods (and whatever else I might encounter). Unfortunately, with all that iron and steel, woodworking tools are heavy. I decided at the outset that my weight and size budget would be one standard checked bag, which is 50 lb and 62 inches, length + width + height.

The first thing that comes to mind when transporting items that need protection is a Pelican case. But Pelican cases are heavy, and one of an appropriate size would put a pretty big dent in my weight budget. So I started looking around at alternatives, including standard hard-sided luggage (mostly the wrong shape, and of questionable protective ability for a 50-lb. load), and eventually decided that I would have to build a lightweight wooden box and ship it inside a padded duffel bag. The good news is that woodworking tools generally aren’t too fragile as long as you keep them from banging into each other.

I had already started down the path of designing the box when I chanced upon an ad in a web site somewhere, advertising the new line of lightweight Pelican Air cases. A quick back-of-the-envelope calculation revealed that a 1605 case would be the right size, and would weigh no more, and probably a little less, than my proposed box. So, out with the box and in with the Pelican Air case. But when I tried to order one, I discovered that the Air cases truly were new, as in, not yet released.

I spoke with Gary at Midwest Case, and after he did some checking with his supplier, we concluded that the case would probably arrive in time. So I crossed my fingers and waited, and used Pelican’s CAD drawings to design the internal dividers that I would need to keep the tools from attacking each other. (The case arrived on 24 May, in plenty of time. I heartily recommend Midwest Case for anyone who needs a Pelican or similar case in or near Ohio; the customer service I received was above and beyond.)

I’m an iron plane kind of guy, but I knew that an iron jointer plane would completely blow my weight budget, so I briefly entertained the idea of building a Krenov-style wooden jointer plane. Instead, I decided to go all-Charlesworth and take only a single jack plane, with an assortment of blades for different tasks, and a couple of low-angle block planes for small stuff. I left out things like a rough panel saw and hammer/mallet, since I knew that I could buy those things at a big box store once I arrived.

Once I got everything together and fitted, I was still a few pounds over my weight budget (as I had expected), so I had to give up a few tools that I would have liked to have, like a couple of paring chisels, a heavy-duty diamond plate, a Starrett compass, etc.

This is the final layout; the empty spaces are where tools had to be omitted:

The tray bottoms are made of 1/8″-thick paulownia plywood, chosen for its ridiculously low weight. I was also going to go with paulownia for the dividers, too, but after cutting a few pieces I decided that I didn’t like its workability, being rather coarse-grained and crumbly. So I went with basswood instead, which in addition to being lightweight (though not as light as paulownia) has a very high strength-to-weight ratio. The basswood is a dream to work with.

The end result is not exactly the Studley tool chest, and the fit and finish could best be described as “utility,” but I think overall it was a successful exercise. We’ll know for sure once TSA and the baggage handlers are through with it. I’m going to include an instruction sheet for TSA so that if they remove the trays they will (hopefully) get them back the right way. Wish me luck.

– Steve Schafer

I found myself in need of a roughly cubical wooden frame the other day.

There are a lot of ways to fasten three sticks together to make a corner:

And in the end, I did end up using something like the above. But being the somewhat-obsessed-with-symmetry-and-patterns person that I am, I wondered if it would be possible to construct a corner joint where all three parts have exactly the same shape. The simplest “joint” of that kind is just three sticks:

Obviously, this “joint” won’t stay together without help, but we’ll address that later on. In my case, I needed the frame to extend to the outside edges of the cube (so that I could fasten some sheet metal over the frame). That’s easy to do with this geometry; just widen the sticks and cut a notch for the joint:

But there’s still that pesky empty cube in the corner. Is there a way to eliminate that without losing symmetry? It turns out that there is:

This isn’t a practical joint. It barely holds itself together, and it’s very fussy to cut and fit (and, if you look closely, you can see that it’s easy to break off one of the sharp triangular tips of the pieces). But it got me thinking: as impractical as it may be, it could nevertheless serve as an étude.

In music, an étude (French for study) is a composition whose purpose is to help build technical proficiency. Études are not meant to be performance pieces, although in a few exceptional cases, such as Frederic Chopin’s piano etudes, they have made their way into the performance repertoire.

Other fields of endeavor have similar practice pieces: chess players study standard openings, Japanese martial arts have their kata. The sequence of moves in tàijíquán can be thought of as a single long, extended étude.

Of course, woodworkers have…well, not much. There’s the Gottshall block, and Chris’s recently republished Dovetail a Day exercise. (Gary Rogowski has advocated something similar with his “5-minute Dovetail” regimen, although in his case it’s more of a warm-up stretch than an extended exercise.) And I’m looking forward to LAP’s new Charles Hayward book, as I suspect that it may contain some exercises along these lines.

But that’s about it. For whatever reason, the concept of standardized practice exercises doesn’t get much airplay in the modern woodworking world. One can argue that woodworkers want to make “real” things, and not just practice pieces, but the same argument applies to the other activities mentioned above: musicians want to perform for a real audience, chess players and martial artists want to face real opponents, etc.

So what’s the deal with woodworkers? Do we need a library of standard woodworking études? Would anyone do the exercises?

Appendix

In case you feel the urge to duplicate the joint in the photo above, here is a procedure that I’ve worked out.

You’ll need three sticks that are about twice as wide as they are thick, with the end in which you’re going to cut the joint nicely squared off. You will also need a thin shim, about 1/16″ thick. Set your marking gauge to the thickness of the sticks, and on each stick scribe a line up one face, across the end, and down the other:

(I’m showing two views of the end of the stick, so that you can see both sides.) Make sure that you note which edge of the stick you’re referencing your measurement from; in this illustration, I’m referencing from the upper edge.

Now reset the gauge to the thickness of the shim, and scribe a line all the way around the end of the sticks.

Repeat with the gauge set to the thickness of the shim plus the thickness of the stick:

And finally, with the gauge set to the thickness of the shim plus the width of the stick:

Scribe two 45° diagonal lines as shown:

Note that if you’re ambitious and want to build an entire cube, the joints at each end of a stick have to be mirror images of each other, or else the cube won’t go together.

Use a saw and chisel(s) to cut a notch in each piece, from the edge that you referenced above, as if you were making a lap joint. You want this to be a good snug fit.

Remove the triangular waste adjacent to the notch:

I find that the simplest way to do this is to lay the stick on its side and cut down with a chisel, removing a big chunk at first and then sneaking up to the line. Err on the side of caution here; you’ll be fitting this line against its mating piece later, so you’ll want a little extra meat to work with.

Now remove the other bit of triangular waste:

The easiest way to do this is to mount the piece in a vise, end up, and split the waste off with a chisel. Since the cut is along the grain, it splits off easily (maybe too easily). Again, leave a little bit of waste to remove later during fitting.

Mark the pieces on the side and end so that you can keep track of how they go together. I used a simple marking scheme:

Finally, fit the pieces together in pairs, gradually paring away the remaining waste material until the pieces fit together closely. (You can cheat a little and make the fitting easier by slightly undercutting the two interior triangular faces.)

Once the pieces have been fit together to your satisfaction and you’ve assembled the joint for good, you can plane off the 1/16″ extensions, the purpose of which was to help prevent the unsupported triangular tips from breaking off, much like the “horn” on a mortise-and-tenon joint serves to keep the end of the mortise from blowing out.

This joint sort of holds together with friction, but it won’t stay together without glue (or pins). I’ve come up with a modified design that ought to interlock much more tightly:

Unfortunately, I have yet to figure out a decent way to cut it (without resorting to a CNC mill). The experimental failures are currently littering my shop.

An étude for another day, perhaps.

EDIT: Bronzy935 asked about how to pin the joint; I’ve done something like this before (using screws), and it’s surprisingly sturdy:

–Steve Schafer