Cardboard boats

Thanks to an article in Raleigh's News & Observer, we recently learned that the town of Smithfield, NC, would be inaugurating its new boat launch with a cardboard boat race. Boats and oars were to be made of nothing more than corrugated cardboard, duct tape, and glue, and each boat would be piloted down the Neuse River by a two-person team. What better project could there be to keep young engineering minds sharp over summer break? With barely one week to spare, E's thumbs sprang into action, texting a recruitment message to his high school robotics club and a few other friends. We solicited the neighborhood email list for cardboard, and received abundant donations. The team met for the first time the Saturday before the race, and hit the ground running.

They continued to meet nightly, their prototypes gradually emerging into an unconventional but plausible design, their industrious philosophy best encapsulated by the question, "Why draw on millennia of accumulated cultural knowledge when you can just wing it instead?"

By Friday afternoon, we still had so much cardboard on the front and back porches and in the living room that S and I wondered out loud whether we should build a boat ourselves. E's immediate response was "YES! DO IT! That would be so excellent!" So S and I skipped out early from a friend's party, drew on millennia of accumulated cultural knowledge, and built our own boat.

Early the next morning, we loaded the auspiciously named S.S. S.O.S. and Das Boot onto our trailer and headed to Smithfield.

Once in Smithfield, we registered our vessels and received copies of the rules. My favorite rule--the one that best illustrated the organizers' confidence in the success of everyone's efforts--was, "Your boat must have at least 2 sides remaining at the finish line to still be considered a boat. In other words, you can't just be hanging onto a piece of cardboard."

Many more boats entered the competition than competitors or organizers were expecting--33 in all. The rules didn't say anything about paint, so it didn't occur to us to decorate our boats, but many teams went all out.

BLR Hotrods came in first and also won the Best Decorated Boat prize

The most elegant boat was designed by a group of friends who had majored in engineering and design at NCSU, so naturally we dragged the rising seniors of Team S.S S.O.S. into a conversation with them.

Expedited Shipping came in 2nd

The SS S.O.S. flew a banner of black Sharpie calculations emblazoned on a field of unbleached-cardboard brown.

All pilots were required to wear personal flotation devices. Can you spot them in the photo?

The new boat launch was quite nice...

The regatta was supported by multiple rescue crews from Smithfield and beyond. This meant that anyone from the age of 8 to 88 could pilot a boat, sink, and be quickly plucked from the delightfully temperate leisurely flowing river raging waters. Boats entered the water one by one, were accompanied downstream by a rescue boat, and met at the finish line under the bridge by volunteers standing waist-deep in the water. The next boat would launch as soon as the wake from the returning rescue boat dissipated.

The SS S.O.S. queued up relatively early in the race.

Alas, the front of the SS S.O.S. was more buoyant than anticipated, and the boat began to take on water in back. The valiant pilots attempted to regain control of the ship, but it flooded beyond recovery--although, perhaps to its credit, not dramatically enough to win the Titanic Award for Most Memorable Sinking. The pilots were pulled from the water and brought to shore in the rescue craft. Happily, this will give them material for their college-application essays. The team is already planning how to up the drama to win the Titanic Award next year. 

Das Boot fared somewhat better.