The lessons of varnishing

As children, Dave had his own personal varnishing crew every spring. He'd use a sanding machine to sand off the varnish from the large wooden surfaces on deck and in the cockpit. This was done relatively quickly. The heroes’ work was done by us, using sheets of fine sandpaper to sand down the corners or trickier places.

Once we cleaned every surface with a damp cloth and removed any residual dust, he would bring out the paintbrushes, the pot of varnish, and some shallow plastic containers (to pour us each an amount of varnish). My two sisters and I would be allocated different surfaces to varnish. The best of us would be given the fiddly bits, like the handrails along the deck. Those of us with little patience would get less critical pieces, such as the cabin hatch or the ladder down to the cabin.

Everyone wanted the fiddly bits, even though they were the least satisfying surfaces to paint.

Dave taught us how to dip the brush, so there was enough varnish to spread on the surface, but not so much that it would drip on the way over there. It was important to start at a corner or the outer edge of the surface and move inward to the centre. You first place the brush on the edge lightly, and as you move towards the centre, exert more pressure. Then go back to the edge and lightly go over where you just brushed, to make sure the varnish is distributed evenly.

The art of varnishing is being speedy, as well as what I call distributing a Goldilocks amount of varnish evenly across the surface. Speed is necessary because if you leave it too long between strokes, the previous brush of varnish begins to dry and then stick and make stripes. The Goldilocks amount is the amount that covers that surface smoothly: not so much that the varnish drips down the surface or onto the deck, but neither too little for the same reason tied to speed.

Ideally, when you finish varnishing, you want a uniform, shiny surface that dries evenly. Then, repeat the procedure two or three times until all the wood is shining and protected from the weather and mishandling throughout the summer and autumn.

So, you might ask what lessons I learnt from varnishing? Patience. How to respect the process. And, most importantly, the consequence of inattention. For once the varnish dripped or got any stripes, there was no way to get rid of these mistakes. They were there for you to see for the rest of the year.

Dave never pointed out the mistakes or reprimanded us. We saw them on our own.

In all actuality, he probably didn't care all that much that we did it perfectly. In the grand scope of all the tasks he had to do over those weekends in spring to prepare the boat to go into the water, the varnishing wasn't a huge priority. Yet, my sisters and I believed it was of the utmost importance. It was a point of pride.