"WAR BABY” - A Simplified Version of the Bow-steering Ice Boat. By RAYMOND A. RUGE on Army Assignment.

Editor's Note: This article was by Raymond A. Ruge and originally published in the March 1945 issue of "Yachting". magazine.  The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. 
​For information about current ice boating on the Hudson River go to these websites:
White Wings and Black Ice here.  
HRIYC here 
​Hudson River Ice Yacht Preservation Trust website here

THE FALL of 1943 found me in Edmonton, Alberta, most northerly of Canadian cities (almost 800 miles northeast of Vancouver, BC), which enjoys the same long summer days — and the same cold winter — as does Moscow and the Scandinavian Peninsula. I was there on an assignment for the Army, but we did have one day off each week. Throughout the summer nearly every Sunday was devoted to 14-foot dinghy sailing with the Edmonton Yacht Club, and red hot sailors they were, believe me.

But now the dinks were laid away and the nights were clear and frosty. By the end of October, it was freezing every night and early duck hunters reported up to two inches of ice on sloughs a few miles to the north. One day, as if by magic, a thumbnail sketch of an ice boat appeared on my desk pad. It went into an envelope with the brief message: “If this interests you, call me up for lunch” and was dispatched to Dr. T. F. MacDonald, commodore of the Edmonton Y.C., figure skater, twice president of the Alberta Fish & Game Association, a real sporting man.

The phone rang next day before noon. The good doctor was not only interested, he was enthusiastic. “But,”said he, “no plywood, no dural, no fittings, no this and no that, how in the world can we build a decent ice boat now?” And the question certainly seemed sensible enough. But there was the lake, ready to freeze; there was the sail boat’s rig, ready to use; there were the tools and the shop to work in. So we just decided to start in and see how far we could get.

Within a week, the plans were drawn, with simplification and substitution the keynotes of the design. We settled on a simple type of bow-steering boat, similar in basic construction to Icicle (see YACHTING, December, 1936).

For the backbone, we had to revert from the modern built-up box fuselage, involving much aircraft plywood and Sitka spruce, to a simple solid stick; in this case, a 20’ piece of 3” by 10” Douglas fir. This was kept full size at the mast step, tapering to 3” by 5” at the bow and 3” by 6” aft, where it rested on the runner plank. All taper cuts were taken off the top, leaving the bottom perfectly straight. This stick was so stiff that no bobstay was rigged and no deflection could be observed even when sailing in a stiff breeze. The design called for a 24’ backbone, so we pieced out our 20’ stick with a ‘‘boomkin” made of two pieces of 34” by 6” screwed to the sides of the main timber and cocked upward at the proper angle to receive the after ends of the shaped side rails.
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These side rails were two pieces of 3/4’’ by 10” by 14’ spruce; they started from the backbone at the mast step, swung out 17” on each side at the seat, and met again at the extreme after end of the boomkin (or extended backbone). A floor of 14” pine boards was screwed to the under side of the center timber and the rails for 48” from the seat back to the forward spreader which also served as a footrail when sailing. To cut out what might have been a most uncomfortable cold breeze through the cockpit, we floored the rest of it forward of this spreader with the only plywood -available— 3/16” poplar, supposed to be for drawer bottoms, etc. If it doesn’t stand up, it can always be replaced since it is entirely non-structural and serves only as a wind-stopper. 

Ray Ruge Collection. Hudson River Maritime Museum.

The seat back, framed of ¾” stuff, was shaped to a smooth curve from railtop to railtop and was carefully reinforced to take the pull of the sheet. A strip of 1⅛” by 2” maple was securely anchored to the seat back at the center of its upper edge and ran back to the tip of the boomkin, where it formed the center filler of a five-ply ‘‘squeeze”’ consisting of itself, the two pieces of the boomkin and the two side rails. This strip of hardwood acted as a ridgepole for the after deck covering but its main function was to serve as a secure anchorage for the sheet blocks.

The “dashboard” (for lack of a better name) was cut from a wide birch board of 1” stock. At each end, it was screwed to a filler block which in turn was securely fastened to the side rail by screws and waterproof glue. From the center of this curving member another ridgepole, this time of pine, ran forward to the mast step block. This served only to carry the forward deck and hence didn’t have to be of hardwood. The mast step was simply a birch block, slotted for the heel of the spar, and screwed to the top of the backbone timber.
With the curved seatback and dashboard and their two ridgepoles (running aft and forward respectively) as its only support, 6-ounce canvas was stretched and tacked to the above members and to the top outside edge of the side rails. A small hardwood molding covered the tacks in the rails, and those on the ridgepoles were hidden by arranging the cloth as shown in the sketch. The two-way stretch possible only with fabric enabled this canvas “deck” to take a most pleasing trumpet-shaped curve as it swept up to the dashboard. With no finish whatever, this canvas gave perfect satisfaction for one entire season, and should last for many years. It is easily renewable at any time.

The steering gear had started life in a small car of predepression vintage and was obtained from a local auto wrecker for a small consideration. It was mounted directly on the side of the backbone by a couple of 3/8” bolts running through that member. The gear was hung so that the pitman arm swung in a horizontal arc directly under the backbone. A similar arm, complete with ball fitting, was welded to the rudder post just above the fork, and the two were connected by the car’s original drag link, lengthened by cutting and welding in a piece of 3/4” pipe. The steering column was clamped to the underside of the curving dashboard in true automobile style and the entire assembly gave fingertip control and perfect service. Cutting away one section of the steering wheel’s rim gave a bit more room when getting in or out of the cockpit but we decided it wasn’t a good idea after all, because the sheet tended to get fouled in the cutaway wheel when sailing. Incidentally, to get a left turn by moving the top of the wheel to the left — as in a car — it was necessary for the pitman arm on the gear and that on the rudder post to project on opposite sides of the backbone. This meant that the long drag link crossed under the backbone from starboard to port when the rudder was set straight, and that it went through a peculiar twisting motion when in action, but it worked perfectly — so don’t worry if it happens to you!
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The rudder post bearings were simply two pieces of 3" steel channel let into the top and bottom of the backbone and drilled for a good fit on the rudder post. They were held in place by 1/4" bolts passing horizontally through their flanges and the backbone. They were used in place of the more usual flat plates because of the unusually narrow backbone timber. The rudder post was a short length of 3/4" shaft with a simple steel fork and the above-mentioned pitman arm welded on. A pair of heavy truck valve springs were slipped over the shaft between the pitman arm and the under bearing plate on the backbone; they gave a little shock-absorbing action that seemed to work well. All this miscellaneous ironwork was dug out of the scrap pile at a local junk yard.

Ray Ruge Collection. Hudson River Maritime Museum.

We had a lucky break on the runner plank, finding two clear spruce boards 1 1/2” by 12” and 16’ long at a local lumber yard. These were glued together with about 6” crown when the clamps were set. After removal of clamps, the crown came back to about 4". The two boards were tapered to 1” thick at the ends before gluing, giving the plank a built-in taper which looked quite professional. The sections between side rails and runner chocks were then shaped out to a streamlined profile. Runner chocks were simply 11” pieces of 3” by 5” by 3/8” angle bolted to the plank. Because structural steel angles are not exactly true right angles, the under side of the plank was carefully planed so that the standing sides (the 5” ones) of the chocks would be parallel and give a good fit to the runners. These angles, too, came from the junk pile. The plank was attached to the backbone by a single U-iron or gammon strap, of ⅝” rod threaded on both ends and bent into a U that just slipped over the after end of the backbone timber and passed through two holes in the plank. There was no attachment of the side rails of the hull to the runner plank.
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For runner blades, we dug around some more in the junk yard until we unearthed some old T-section steel which looked as if it might have been a rolling door track in better days. It was about 1 1/2” by 2” by 5/16” in cross section. We had the top drilled and countersunk on 4” centers for No. 10 flat head wood screws, and the edge was rough-ground on a wheel to a 90° V. Later dressing with a file was tedious but proved to be feasible in spite of much advice to the contrary. The runner tops were made of oak, 1 3/4” by 4 1/2” in cross section, 53” long for main runners which had 48” shoes, and 41” long for the 36” rudder blade. The tops were doweled with machine bolts spaced 9” apart, running right through the oak from bottom, where the heads were countersunk, to top, where the nuts (with washers) were drawn up tight. These bolts prevent peeling off the runner shoes in a bad skid, and should be tightened up before each season, as the wood dries out and shrinks during the warm summer months. The blades were then screwed on, using 1 1/2” No. 10 steel screws. The sharp section of the blade was kept down to a mere 10” or so directly under the riding bolt. From there, running both forward and aft, the edge was made more and more dull, which served to put a slight rocker into it and also to give an easy entrance and exit, vital for speed. A blade without rocker can’t be turned and one that is sharp for any great distance forward of the riding bolt will grip and cut down speed a lot. All runners rode on 5/8” machine bolts, which were drilled for cotter pins. 

Ray Ruge Collection. Hudson River Maritime Museum.

The hollow sail boat mast had no shrouds below the forestay, and the unsupported spar between the step and this point was too long to be trusted. Accordingly, a simple spar band with three projecting tangs was cut from 1/8” metal and held in place by a single 1/4” bolt running straight through the mast. The extra set of shrouds was made from odds and ends such as are usually at hand in any sailor’s slop chest, and ran from a point half-way between forestay and mast step. All stays terminated in rope lanyards, led to big 3” diameter iron rings attached to plank and backbone by eyebolts. Rope lanyards are not only a cheap and foolproof substitute for turnbuckles, they are also an easy way to piece out the sail boat rigging for the extra length that will be needed on the ice boat.

Blocks, like spars, were borrowed from the sail boat but we decided against light summer canvas and had a sail made. A local tent and awning maker undertook the job and did a surprisingly good piece of work. By designing the sail as a flat surface, with a roach on the luff and another on the foot, as well as the usual one on the leach, we succeeded in getting a fine-setting sail which was not too difficult to make. Full-length batten pockets were run parallel to the boom, and track slides were borrowed for the winter from the regular sail boat mainsail. Battens were ripped from a flat-grained two-inch oak plank at a local mill. This gave us edge grain in the battens, which were a full 1/4” thick at the after end, and were planed down to about 1/8” thick at the mast. Since most broken battens are caused by the whipping of the sail when coming about, we taped the three lower ones thoroughly from 1 foot to about 4 feet from the leach. The upper battens don’t get the whipping, and rarely break.
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Throughout the first winter of use, the sail boat mast stood up beautifully until sundown of the last day of the season, when it somehow contrived to come unstepped and broke when it struck the ice. A new spar was built for the sail boat and a letter received the other day informs me that the doctor has built a typical streamlined ice boat spar for the winter sailing. This stick has a groove plowed in its after edge to recess the sail track and improve the airflow, and it will be stepped on a trailer ball and hardwood socket to permit proper pivoting. The sketches show a typical cross section of the new spar and also the arrangement of the ball-and-socket step.

Ray Ruge Collection. Hudson River Maritime Museum.

Several factors combine to give an ice boat mast far heavier punishment than is met by a sail boat spar carrying the same area of canvas. In the first place, the speed of the airflow over the ice boat’s sail may easily run from two to four times as fast with the same wind velocity, simply because the boat is able to move so much faster. This means development by the sail of four to sixteen times as much-power and, as a result, four to sixteen times as much induced compression in the mast. Practically. every ice boat mast that “goes” (from causes other than capsizes), buckles and “explodes” from excessive compression. Secondly, the boat cannot heel to every puff; it takes a really hard one to make her hike and, even then, the relief afforded the spar by the heeling action is negligible. Both shrouds and spar should be sized for stresses that may run a good ten times higher than those in a sail boat of comparable sail area. By the same token, the sail should, if possible, be made of heavier canvas and headboard and clew should be most thoroughly reinforced. The entire pull of the sheet, which is nearly always sweated in taut, is transmitted through these two corners of the sail. This is one advantage of the train of single--sheave blocks now standard equipment on ice boats, the sheet pull is spread along the boom and not concentrated at one point. The raked mast with tunnel or “Swedish track” contrives to spread the pull along the mast a bit instead of leaving it all to the headboard, as is the case with a vertical spar and sail track. In addition, raking the mast shortens the length of the leach, thus making it possible to keep the leach taut. The advantage when turning to windward is tremendous.
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To return to our Canadian boat from this brief digression into ice boat design:
In setting up the boat, backbone and runner plank were placed in position and joined by the U-iron (“gammon strap”). The two whisker stays running from bow to runner plank were then set up snug, using a steel tape to check the distance from bow to runner chock on each side until we were sure the plank was square with the backbone. The whisker stays should not be drawn more than snug taut, for they will bend the runner plank and cause the runners to toe in if set up too much. Next, the mast was stepped and the ‘shrouds’ set in approximately the proper position, with just one turn of the rope lanyards. Then the sail was bent and hoisted and the headstays adjusted until the boom had just a slight rise from mast to clew when the sheet was sweated in taut. Shrouds were then set up, but not more than just enough to take the excess slack out of them. Tight-set shrouds simply bend the runner plank, throw constant stress into stays, plank and mast, and may actually cause a broken spar in action on a puffy day. Ice boat rigging always looks sloppy to the racing sail boat man but rest assured, it isn’t that way by accident or from carelessness. That’s the way it should be. The lee shrouds are always very slack when sailing and here is another place where rope lanyards are superior to turnbuckles. The lanyards won’t kink when they go slack, as a turnbuckle or shackle will, and it shouldn’t be necessary to point out that they won’t strip threads or crystallize no matter how far the thermometer drops. Final clincher in these days, is the fact that you can always get some sort of line for lanyards but try to buy a turnbuckle! 

Ray Ruge Collection. Hudson River Maritime Museum.

​Thanks to an exceptionally snowless winter, we had a fine lot of sailing with this boat, starting on November 21st and continuing, off and on, until Easter, April 9th. We wound up the season on the last day by sailing the entire twelve-mile length of the lake and back in a fine southwest breeze with the thermometer in the forties. One night of sailing by the illumination of a really exceptional display of Northern Lights was a thrill I shall never forget. Based on our experience, it seems a safe bet that, given some assorted rigging, a lumber yard, a well-stocked junk yard and a little determination, War Babies like this one are entirely feasible. They sure are a lot of fun!

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