Vandestadt & McGruer `Skunk' dinghy

[Pete Hodgins]

Recently had occasion to sail in one of the above. At the very
least 100 were built in Owen Sound, before V & M went the way of so many
Canadian builders of small sailboats, following the Yom Kippur war and the
violent escalation of costs resulting from the OPEC cartel's squeeze on
petroleum products, including boatbuilding resins.
I'm not quite sure what `funky' means, but it might perhaps
describe the name of the boat under discussion. Picture the conversational
possibilities:- "I sail a Skunk." ... "Oh yeah? A funky Skunkie."
This model is one in a series of S-designes from Hubert
Vandestadt's board, including Shrimp, Skunk, and Siren.
The hull lines are near the extreme of chubbiness, with a
length/beam ratio very close to 2. Other hull features include a motor
mount on the transom, narrow gunwales, conventional side buoyancy tanks
doubling as seats, and a foredeck set below gunwale level, with cubby
holes under for stowage. This setup means rain and spray will not be shed
overboard. The hull, as delivered from the yard, also lacks a drainplug or
self-bailer (although there's a limber hole to let water getting under the
foredeck to drain into the open cockpit space), so that a lot of bailing
can be foreseen in wet weather. Apart from any discomfort in hiking out
while perched on a narrow gunwale, I distrust that feature on principle
because when you heel the rail under, green water is apt to pour aboard on
the low side and promote a capsize. Evidently the hope is that the hull's
great beam will confer so much stability as to prevent such a degree of
heel, but any vessel can capsize and the Skunk's stability is certainly
not infinite.
In some other respects, I think the Skunk is a microcruiser with
its motor mount, some stowage, and no special racing pretentions. I do
however wonder about its self-rescuability (not tested) after a capsize.
The boat is laid out for rowing, in addition to the usual
possibility of paddling. I found the Skunk easy to row except that the
particular oars in use were designed for a much narrower boat and were
short in the loom - meaning that one's hands were placed about a metre
apart, a strange and somewhat strained way to work. Except for the problem
of looking ahead, rowing in open water is more efficient than paddling,
especially in a hull that is somewhat tublike. Yet one can unship an oar
and paddle with it where necessary. Especially if you are already skilled
at the oars, this feature is highly desirable in my view, and could well
replace the need for a motor in a boat of this size, if used on somewhat
sheltered waters and in less than storm conditions. The sailing rig is
however designed with a rather low boom, and it and the non-windowed
mainsail tend to get in the way of complete rowing freedom.
Sailing fittings leave something to be desired. I found only one
single-sheave block, for the one-part mainsheet at its rope-type, non-
adjustable horse, in the entire vessel. Everywhere else, lines run through
chintzy little nylon rings held by deck eyes. At the mast's foot there are
three flimsy nylon cleats to anchor the main & jib halyards, and a
gooseneck downhaul; there is no factory-supplied boom vang, apparently.
All lines are synthetic, twisted rope of small diameters, but
they're soft and reasonably easy on the hands - although the one-piece
mainsheet tackle may be a sore trial in half a gale of wind.
The rig is jib-headed and of Gunter lug type, meaning that there's
a short mast and a yard of about the same length to stand nearly
vertically and provide the necessary total height to simulate the more
usual Bermudan sloop layout. The jib's height and area are however
severely limited by the mast's stumpiness. The rig is unstayed. You sail
the Skunk as you would a sloop, but I doubt it can be as closewinded. The
special appeal of the Gunter rig is that you can lower the yard and sails,
unship the mast, and bundle the whole affair inside the hull's outlines to
row to shelter in the event of a storm or a calm - but I'm not saying the
dismasting job with be easily or safely carried out during a storm for it
seems one must stand up to do the work involved.
The fins (daggerboard and rudder) have no kick-up pivoting
capabilities but the boat's owners say they always row when close to
shore. I'm accustomed to a similar daggerboard but a kick-up rudder, which
I recommend in case one merely crosses a shallows, such as a sandbar. It
is furthermore difficult and potentially dangerous to hang or unship a
rudder while your vessel rolls in a seaway - an operation that's
unnecessary if the rudder is hung before the voyage begins and unhung
after it ends.
Most such shortcomings (as I view them) can be overcome by
the owner exerting time, skill, and dollars in a refit.
We had only light breezes and I got little feel of the boat's
speed potential. However, I liked the smooth, flat wake suggestive of good
efficiency for whatever the boat has going for it.

Pete H. Sr.

[Pete Hodgins]

Recently had occasion to sail in one of the above. At the very
least 100 were built in Owen Sound, before V & M went the way of so many
Canadian builders of small sailboats, following the Yom Kippur war and the
violent escalation of costs resulting from the OPEC cartel's squeeze on
petroleum products, including boatbuilding resins.

This model is one in a series of S-designes from Hubert

Vandestadt's board, including Shrimp, Skunk, Spindrift, and Siren. Too bad
they didn't look harder for another marine oriented name, such as skua or
skimmer.

The hull lines are near the extreme of chubbiness, with a length/
beam ratio very close to 2. Other hull features include a motor mount on
the transom, narrow gunwales, conventional side buoyancy tanks doubling as
seats, and a foredeck set below gunwale level, with cubby holes under for
stowage. This setup means rain and spray will not be shed overboard. The
hull, as delivered from the yard, also lacks a drainplug or self-bailer
(although there's a limber hole to let water getting under the foredeck to
drain into the open cockpit space), so that a lot of bailing can be
foreseen in wet weather. Apart from any discomfort in hiking out while
perched on a narrow gunwale, I distrust that feature on principle because
when you heel the rail under, green water is apt to pour aboard on the low
side and promote a capsize. Evidently the hope is that the hull's great

beam (all things being relative) will confer so much stability as to

prevent such a degree of heel, but any vessel can capsize and the Skunk's
stability is certainly not infinite.

In various respects, I think the Skunk is an open microcruiser
with its motor mount, some stowage, fairly easy "character" rig, and
absence of racing pretentions. I do however wonder about its
self-rescuability (not tested) after a capsize. I envision the boat's
coming erect with enough water aboard to put her out of effective control
for an extended period of time, pending much bailing. Carrying a heavy
duty bailer lashed to the boat, so that it won't go to the bottom or float
away during a capsize, is a `must' in a design with narrow gunwales.
Avoiding structural damage from heavy rainfall while the hull is
hauled ashore but not overturned needs some thought, unless a drainhole is
added and left open while the boat is out of use. Such a hole must then be
plugged while the boat is afloat; the Skunk has no inner cockpit sole
raised above the waterline to facilitate drainage at all times.

The boat is laid out for rowing, in addition to the usual

possibility of paddling. I found the Skunk easy to row, but the non-V&M
oars in use had been designed for a much narrower boat and were short in

the loom - meaning that one's hands were placed about a metre apart, a
strange and somewhat strained way to work. Except for the problem of

looking ahead, rowing in open water is more efficient than paddling -
especially in a rather tublike hull. Yet one can unship an oar and paddle
with it where necessary. At least if you are already skilled at the oars,
this feature is highly desirable and could well replace the need for a
motor in a boat of this size, if she's used on somewhat sheltered waters

and in less than storm conditions. The sailing rig is however designed

with a rather low boom; that and the non-windowed mainsail tend to get in

the way of complete rowing freedom.

The sailing fittings leave something to be desired. I found only
one single-sheave block aboard, used to turn but not multiply effort in
the one-part mainsheet at its rope-type, nonadjustable horse. Everywhere

else, lines run through chintzy little nylon rings held by deck eyes. At
the mast's foot there are three flimsy nylon cleats to anchor the main &
jib halyards, and a gooseneck downhaul; there is no factory-supplied boom
vang, apparently.

All lines are of twisted synthetic rope of small diameters, but

they're soft and reasonably easy on the hands - although the one-piece

mainsheet tackle may be a sore trial in half a gale of wind. No quick-
release cleating is supplied to hold the sheets.

The rig is jib-headed and of Gunter lug type, meaning that there's
a short mast and a yard of about the same length to stand nearly
vertically and provide the necessary total height to simulate the more
usual Bermudan sloop layout. The jib's height and area are however
severely limited by the mast's stumpiness. The rig is unstayed. You sail
the Skunk as you would a sloop, but I doubt it can be as closewinded. The
special appeal of the Gunter rig is that you can lower the yard and sails,
unship the mast, and bundle the whole affair inside the hull's outlines to
row to shelter in the event of a storm or a calm - but I'm not saying the

dismasting job with be easily or safely carried out during a storm, for it

seems one must stand up to do the work involved.
The fins (daggerboard and rudder) have no kick-up pivoting

ability, but the test boat's owners say they always row when close to

shore. I'm accustomed to a similar daggerboard but a kick-up rudder, which

I recommend in case one merely crosses a shoal, such as a sandbar. It's

difficult and potentially dangerous to hang or unship a rudder while your

vessel rolls in a seaway - an operation that's needless if the rudder is
hung before the voyage begins, and unhung after it ends, being merely
cocked up aft while on dry land or in shoal water.

Most such shortcomings (as I view them) can be overcome by the
owner exerting time, skill, and dollars in a refit.

We had only light breezes and I got little feeling for the boat's
speed potential. However, I liked the smooth, flat wake, suggestive of
good hull efficiency in whatever breeze the boat may have going for it.
If these notes interest readers, it should be possible to revisit
the same example of the Skunk and conduct capsize and heavier weather
tests. Otherwise, the present blurb is also to become an appendix to my
book, "Microcruising and Microcruisers / under sail" - Part 2,
`Microcruisers'.

Pete H. Sr.

[Pete Hodgins]

self- rescuability (not tested) after a capsize. I envision the boat's

coming erect with enough water aboard to put her out of effective control
for an extended period of time, pending much bailing. Carrying a heavy
duty bailer lashed to the boat, so that it won't go to the bottom or float
away during a capsize, is a `must' in a design with narrow gunwales.

Avoiding structural damage from heavy rainfall while the hull lies

hauled ashore but not overturned needs some thought, unless a drainhole is
added and left open while the boat is out of use. Such a hole must then be
plugged while the boat is afloat; the Skunk has no inner cockpit sole
raised above the waterline to facilitate drainage at all times.
The boat is laid out for rowing, in addition to the usual
possibility of paddling. I found the Skunk easy to row, but the non-V&M
oars in use had been designed for a much narrower boat and were short in
the loom - meaning that one's hands were placed about a metre apart, a
strange and somewhat strained way to work. Except for the problem of
looking ahead, rowing in open water is more efficient than paddling -
especially in a rather tublike hull. Yet one can unship an oar and paddle
with it where necessary. At least if you are already skilled at the oars,
this feature is highly desirable and could well replace the need for a
motor in a boat of this size, if she's used on somewhat sheltered waters
and in less than storm conditions. The sailing rig is however designed
with a rather low boom; that and the non-windowed mainsail tend to get in

the way of complete rowing freedom whether the sail is up or down.

The sailing fittings leave something to be desired. I found only
one single-sheave block aboard, used to turn but not multiply effort in
the one-part mainsheet at its rope-type, nonadjustable horse. Everywhere
else, lines run through chintzy little nylon rings held by deck eyes. At
the mast's foot there are three flimsy nylon cleats to anchor the main &
jib halyards, and a gooseneck downhaul; there is no factory-supplied boom
vang, apparently.
All lines are of twisted synthetic rope of small diameters, but
they're soft and reasonably easy on the hands - although the one-piece
mainsheet tackle may be a sore trial in half a gale of wind. No quick-
release cleating is supplied to hold the sheets.
The rig is jib-headed and of Gunter lug type, meaning that there's
a short mast and a yard of about the same length to stand nearly
vertically and provide the necessary total height to simulate the more
usual Bermudan sloop layout. The jib's height and area are however
severely limited by the mast's stumpiness. The rig is unstayed. You sail
the Skunk as you would a sloop, but I doubt it can be as closewinded. The
special appeal of the Gunter rig is that you can lower the yard and sails,
unship the mast, and bundle the whole affair inside the hull's outlines to
row to shelter in the event of a storm or a calm - but I'm not saying the

dismasting job will be easily or safely carried out during a storm, for it

seems one must stand up to do the work involved.
The fins (daggerboard and rudder) have no kick-up pivoting
ability, but the test boat's owners say they always row when close to
shore. I'm accustomed to a similar daggerboard but a kick-up rudder, which
I recommend in case one merely crosses a shoal, such as a sandbar. It's
difficult and potentially dangerous to hang or unship a rudder while your
vessel rolls in a seaway - an operation that's needless if the rudder is
hung before the voyage begins, and unhung after it ends, being merely
cocked up aft while on dry land or in shoal water.
Most such shortcomings (as I view them) can be overcome by the
owner exerting time, skill, and dollars in a refit.
We had only light breezes and I got little feeling for the boat's
speed potential. However, I liked the smooth, flat wake, suggestive of
good hull efficiency in whatever breeze the boat may have going for it.
If these notes interest readers, it should be possible to revisit
the same example of the Skunk and conduct capsize and heavier weather

tests. The present blurb, in suitably re-edited form, is to become part of

my book, "Microcruising and Microcruisers / under sail" - Part 2,
`Microcruisers'.

Pete H. Sr.

P.S.: There's some possibility that book may find a publisher in New
Zealand. A companion article explains a bit further.

[Phil Macdonald]

I learned to sail (in a manner of speaking) at the old Ottawa Recreation and
Sports, later the Ottawa River Sailing Club. This club featured all the boats
you mentioned in your post plus a styrofoam Snark. Actually the Skunk is a
very appropriate name for this boat as its sailing characteristics and a
skunk's aroma have a lot in common. You have hinted at some of its
shortcomings in your post and as you correctly surmised it does take on water
in any kind of blow. The volume of water usually exceeds your bailing
velocity, but at least the water sloshing over your feet distracts from the
numbness in your legs from trying to hike over the circulation destroying
gunwales.

Along with a lot of the new words that my young ears learned from fellow club
members enjoying the ORS fleet, I learned what a Chinese gybe was, after a
young father with a toddler took out one of the club's boats. About 10 meters
from the dock he gybed accidentally, the boom flew up at an alarming angle,
hung for a second, then the sail and rigging wrapped around the mast and the
boat capsized. Dad swam madly for the dock leaving boat and toddler behind.
Fortunately all concerned were wearing life jackets and I learned some more
new words. Perhaps the club should have opted for the optional boom vang.