A Village of Boat Builders

Written by Jonathan Smylie

On Saturday, July 28 we cycled 52 miles along the coast north of Nha Trang. Part of the ride took us onto the Hon Gom Peninula. The isthmus that connects the mainland to the high mountains that dominate the southern end of this land was nothing more then a thin, five mile stretch of sand dunes covered by beach grass, small shrubs and short trees. The asphalt road we followed was long and straight and empty of vehicles. There was a wonderful quietness about the place. On our right was Ben Goi Bay and the low tide had drawn down the water enough to strand in mud the anchored fishing boats. On our left was a most curious and beautiful discovery -- especially for the boy in me who loves working with wood – a village of boat builders.

Vietnams fishing boats, the sea worthy kind, have a number of similar characteristics; gracefully accentuated bows that lift high above the deck, hulls that are painted a bright, beautiful blue, and gunwales accentuated in a different color, often red. The boat’s center cabin will be covered in bright colors as well and geometric designed will accessorize the cabin’s walls, doors, and window shingles.

The most interesting personality trait of these boats can be found close to the bow, just below the gunwale. Each boat, and this is without exception, is adorned with whale eyes. The eyes are drawn in the shape elongated teardrops and painted white, their pupils a long, narrow dash of black. Fishman revere the whale as their protector from the dangers of the sea.

To our great fortune the village had boats in all stages of production. We saw the beginning framework of one boat that looked like the skeleton of a giant armadillo on its back. Wooden ribs had been pegged into the keel using long, wooden spikes. To keep these spikes from loosening a small piece of white wood, no bigger than your thumb, was wedged into its crown much like how the ends of pegs are treated in a post-and-beam house. Everywhere giant C-clamps were holding boards together.

To curve the end of a long board for use in building a bow, these craftsmen would wedge one end of the board against the bottom of a palm tree and then about five feet away rest the board over a stack of cinderblocks, about the height of your knees. Using this stack as their fulcrum, these self-sufficient people would hang weights; heavy stones cradled in nets or cinderblocks on the far end and let the weight over time bend the board into a curve.

These boat builders are proud of their craft and rightfully so. The whole time I was examining their work, I was fantasizing about how I could buy one of these boats and get it back to Lake Waccamaw, for no other reason than to have the most beautiful and unique boat on the lake.

We stopped in front of one boat, almost finished. Sealing varnish was being brushed onto the completed hull, blue paint was being applied, and an elongated section of unpainted wood just under the gunwale was being reserved for the whale’s eyes. When I asked, by gesturing with camera in hand, if I could take the builder’s picture, he proudly stepped in front of his boat and faced me. But before he stilled himself, he pointed to his right shoulder where a peculiar bulge protruded—bone covered by skin. Was it an old war injury? He took his cigarette out of his mouth, his eyes locked onto mine, and he posed in front of his beautiful new fishing boat with its whale eyes.