I first met Iain Oughtred through letters. One of my first assignments upon arrival at WoodenBoat Publications in early 1992 was to edit early elements of what would become his book, Clinker Plywood Boatbuilding Manual. My marked manuscript pages would be mailed off to a mythical-sounding place in Scotland; they would come back with copious and carefully handwritten drawings, comments, and discussion points about terminology and organization. It was a fantastic and memorable education and, though I didn’t know it at the time, a glimpse at rare genius.
Iain’s design career was blossoming then, and my view as an editor was expanding. My correspondence and travels in the ensuing years would kindle friendships with boatbuilders across North America and Northern Europe and in Russia, New Zealand, and Australia. If there was one constant among all those places, it was Iain Oughtred. I recall a just-launched Grey Seal at the tiny, remote riverport of Goolwa, in South Australia—not to mention a host of other Oughtred-designed boats at the biannual show hosted there. I recall the lightning-quick adoption of the St. Ayles Skiff by rowing groups worldwide, including in the British Isles, The Netherlands, the United States, Canada, Australia, South Africa, France, and New Zealand. And I recall the proliferation of camp-cruising Caledonia Yawls right here at the WoodenBoat School waterfront. Iain Oughtred, it seemed, was everywhere.
All of this energy, effort, and enthusiasm for Iain’s work did not grow out of a marketing plan and a venture-capital-backed corporation. It came from the vision of one man, working alone in ink and on paper—a “reclusive artist,” as Nic Compton calls him in his remembrance of Iain (see page 40), who died in February this year.