Building our Dinghy somewhere in Africa

If you’re reading this blog regularly, you already know that we mysteriously lost our dinghy back in Palmeira and then spent quite a while trying to replace it.

In the end, we bought one.

And we didn’t like it.

Somewhere during that whole mess, an old idea came back to the surface: building our own dinghy.

I’d been thinking about it for a while. And when my previous dinghy started to lose its seams and slowly fall apart in the Canaries, I began paying close attention to the rigid dinghies I saw around me — especially in Las Palmas. There were a few designs I really liked, and at some point I started playing with the idea of building a nested version for our next one.

In my head, that project came with a big “someday.” I assumed it would take time. I hoped to be in a place where I could easily access materials — and ideally somewhere with a workshop, or at least something that resembles one.

Well… here we go.

In Mindelo, we found out we could get “some” materials. And we got access to a cramped little garage about a 20-minute walk from the anchorage. Limited tools, limited supplies, and a whole lot of improvisation.

So we took the chance and started building

And yes — this is exactly as chaotic as it sounds.

The plan: build a 9-foot stitch-and-glue plywood Spindrift dinghy from scratch. In someone else’s garage. On a small island in Africa. Not one of those polished workshop builds with every tool neatly hanging on the wall and perfect lighting for the camera.

More like: carrying plywood sheets through town, mapping measurements by hand, drawing curves with nails and plywood strips, drilling what felt like a thousand holes, stitching the hull together… and then realizing that bending plywood into shape is not just “gentle persuasion.”

At one point, things literally cracked under pressure.

Which, in boatbuilding, is both a very normal thing and a very unpleasant thing — especially when you’re doing it far away from the places where you could simply buy a new part or start over easily.

But we kept going.

We repaired what broke, adjusted what didn’t work, and did the kind of scrappy problem-solving you only do when you don’t really have another option. We laminated, fiberglassed, sanded, and then came the moment that still feels slightly insane when I say it out loud:

We cut the boat in two pieces so it could nest.

And eventually, we carried the finished dinghy down to the harbor in Mindelo.

Will it float?

That’s the question.

And honestly, that’s part of why this episode is fun. It’s not just a “how to build a dinghy” video. It’s a real look into what it’s like to build something complicated with limited resources — and still try to make it good enough to trust your daily life with it.

So… what do you think about it?

And a question for you: have you ever built something complicated with limited tools or resources?

Stay curious, stay salty.
– Floh