Story by Sharon Ellison
Photos by Michael Ellison

Wayne Dery shows off his homemade kayak on the dock near his home.

Former engineer tackles the task of building his own - with a little help from his friends.

Creativity is born in many ways. Wayne Dery was a tool and die maker and an engineer before he retired from Ingersoll-Rand three years ago. As a self-described "factory rat" from New Hartford, Conn., he didn't think what he did could be described as creative. But the engineering and design skills he once used on the job evolved into artistry and craftsmanship after he retired.

Dery and his wife, Ginnie, live on the banks of the Julianton River. Their house is shrouded in the shade of the Lowcountry's famous oak trees. One of them drapes languidly above the boat dock. It is the picture of idyllic retirement living, if ever there was one.



Dery navigates the marsh near Julianton River.

But the marsh and the river are alluring, and it wasn't long before Wayne knew he had to do more than sit back and admire the view. He wanted to explore the river and the marsh, but first he needed transportation. He decided on a sea kayak -- and he was going to build it himself. Never mind that he didn't know how to build one. Or even that he had never paddled one. He just knew he could do it.

Perhaps his confidence in his ability for building a kayak stemmed from his manufacturing skills, as well as from his artistic flair for wood carving - a talent he had discovered while on a whitewater canoe trip.

Dery had the unfortunate luck to break his collarbone (the details of which he sheepishly declines to share), so he stayed behind at camp while his friends went canoeing. Naturally, he was bored.

"I picked up a walking stick on which a friend had begun to carve a design," Dery says. "I don't even remember what it was. Anyway, I found a knife and just started carving. I carved until it was finished."

Dery didn't know where his ability came from, or even that he had it until that moment. He's been crafting wood sculptures ever since. Samples of his artistry are displayed in his living room -- blooming flowers and a woodland bird. He seems to be a natural with tools, be they small hand tools and knives for intricate sculpting and carving, or power tools for larger projects.

So once he had decided to build a kayak, he started making his plans. He says a canoe probably would have been easier. After all, he had built one 30 years ago and he didn't think he had forgotten how.

"But a kayak is more wind resistant than a canoe," says Dery. "It's also safer in big water, and the built-in storage compartments keep supplies and camping gear dry."

He did have a few of the tools he would need, including a plane and a band saw. He also had a workshop, albeit a small one that was perfect for carving, but not large enough for kayak building. But most importantly, he had the desire, an innate talent and a wife and friends who were willing to help. His neighbor, Don Stewart, had a large workshop.

Dery decided on the Ocean Storm design from the One Ocean Kayaks' website. The design wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was close. The engineer in him had no trouble making a couple of modifications. The original plans called for hollow ends, but he wanted solid ends for added weight and stability. He also wanted something more aesthetically pleasing than fiberglass for the coaming (the structural support to which the rubberized spray skirt is attached). The creative side of him began envisioning his kayak like an artist envisions a finished painting.



Tools of the craftsman - plan sheets, a handplane and assorted chisels.

He wanted woods that would be decorative, as well as durable. After one visit to Guerry Lumber Company in Savannah, he went home with some old-growth redwood that an employee had discovered while cleaning out a shed. Two trips to a Wilmington, N.C., lumber yard proved fruitful for the remainder of the wood. He hauled it all over to Stewart 's workshop, and the nine-month construction began. Stewart was a great help, as was Charlie Reeves, a Savannah commercial boat builder who taught Dery how to do the bead and coving construction. Ginnie helped him align and attach the two halves of the kayak.

"Wayne is a perfectionist," said Ginnie. "He worried for months that the two halves wouldn't line up." She has a pet name for him, but he wouldn't allow it to be printed. As it turns out, the halves did line up -- perfectly. Then his friend, Peter Passenheim, helped him sand and finish it.

The kayak that evolved had solid ends of old growth redwood, a deck of redwood and eastern white cedar, a bottom of western red cedar with a black walnut keel, and coaming made of western red cedar overlaid with black walnut. Two strips of cherry were used as an accent on the deck. He coated it all with fiberglass, using epoxy resin, and finished it off with a two-part polyurethane varnish. It was a masterpiece of artistry and engineering.

Dery christened his kayak "The Lily" (after his new granddaughter, and because the design on the bottom happened to resemble a lily), and launched it from his dock in June. He realized soon enough that he needed a lesson in kayaking and signed up at Sea Kayak Georgia. Now he's honing his skills on the Julianton River and looking for someone to partner up with for an excursion on the Intracoastal Waterway.

As it turns out, some of Dery's creative talent is probably hereditary. The walls of his home are covered with an assortment of original paintings in a variety of styles. They were all painted by his father, also a tool and die maker, who began painting when he was well into his 30s. His father took a couple of art lessons, but abandoned them in favor of letting his inner knowledge guide him. Judging from the beauty and variety of his work, following his instinct was the right decision.

"I didn't inherit my father's talent for painting," says Dery, but admits he has never tried. He is, however, making plans to build a wood strip canoe this winter. And he would like to learn bronze sculpting. Oh yes, and he's searching for someone to teach him to play his mandolin. But what he really wants is a kayaking partner for that trip on the Intracoastal Waterway.