The first builder I worked for had a little quip he’d toss
my way whenever he thought I was being a little too meticulous (i.e. working
too slow.) The quip was “What are you building—a _______ or a piano?” It didn’t
matter if he filled in the blank with the word “garage” or “wall” or “deck,”
the meaning was clear: He didn’t want me wasting major time on minor things.
For
the past week or so I’ve been laying the decking for our new deck. And a few
times I’ve wound up asking myself, “What are you building here, Spike—a deck or
a piano?” You see, these are no
ordinary deck boards. After a fair amount of research and soul searching (and
credit card searching), Kat and I decided to go with Ipe.
Ipe is amazing stuff. It isn’t so much a single tree
species, as a group of closely-related trees with similar characteristics. The
trees, common to Central and South America, grow to 160 ft. in height and 6 ft.
in diameter. The wood is FSC certified.
With
a hardness rating three times that of oak, so heavy it sinks and carrying a
Class A fire rating (the same rating as concrete and steel) it’s earned its
nickname “ironwood.” It’s so durable it’s used on the well-trod boardwalks of
Coney Island, Atlantic City and other iconic walkways. Since it has a projected
lifespan of 25+ years, I’ll be 85+ before I have to replace it again! All this
beauty and function comes with a price tag—it runs about $10 per board foot.
It’s so beautiful—the wood is literally furniture quality
stuff, with bloodlines similar to that teak—one really doesn’t want to muss it
up with pairs of screws through the face of it every 16 inches. So I’ve been
using hidden fasteners that slip into grooves along the edges of the boards and
then secured to the joists. So not only does the wood cost 3 or 4 times as much
as the alternatives, it takes 3 or 4 times as much time to install the stuff.
So this deck is part-deck/part-piano.
Which is fine—as long I puts myself in a piano-building mode.
In the end, this deck (and my attachment to it) will take
the course of most of my other woodworking projects: I’ll beat my chest with
pride and joy as each tight fitting joint is created. I’ll stand back and soak
in the beauty of the finished piece. Then I start taking it for granted. But
those early moments of joy and working with my hands make it all worth it.
Woodworking is the best of two worlds—it’s both a journey and a destination.