Belinda joslin has owned, raced, maintained and repaired boats all her life. So when she was looking for work after her children started school, she approached her local shipyard in Ipswich. He was offered a job as a finisher and his life was quickly spent sanding, painting and varnishing. “I showed up at the school gate absolutely filthy,” says Joslin, 48.
Eager to find other women who shared her passion, in May 2021 she created an Instagram account called Women in Boatbuilding. “I thought I couldn’t be the only woman in the world obsessed with fixing boats,” she says. “I wanted to contact other women and hear their stories. I’ve discovered some amazing and inspiring women.”
Belinda Joslin
Initially, the goal was to celebrate each other’s successes, but as the women opened up about their experiences, they began to share some of their struggles and the battles they were fighting. Boat building is still largely a male preserve. Many of the women have experienced sexism and found that they have had to work harder than men to prove their abilities.
“As an industry, we’re a long way from gender parity,” says Joslin. “Much more could be done.” Joslin wants the account to be a lobbying force for equality and diversity in boatbuilding, as well as a place to showcase and support women in the industry.
Sacha Walker
“You are producing your part of a beautiful sculpture”
The hum and noise of the boat reminds Sacha Walker of the rhythms of putting on a festival or a concert. Walker, 53, a former tour manager and music agent, now works as a finisher, polishing and varnishing boats built at Spirit Yachts in Ipswich.
“We work as a crew, with a common goal. All this noise, all this energy runs through me. I feed off of it,” he says.
After leaving London five years ago, Walker moved to near Ipswich and began a career in photography. In 2017, he visited Spirit to photograph people at work and immediately felt at home: “I loved the atmosphere and the ships.”
When Spirit managing director Karen Underwood offered Walker the opportunity to train as a finalist, she took it. “I love it. I don’t have a desk or email,” says Walker. “I’m always moving, always in contact with the wood. I end up almost hugging the boat like a whale’s back. It’s very physical.
“It’s really pure and artistic and creative,” she says. “You are producing your part of a beautiful sculpture.”
Almost a third of the workforce on Spirit is female, but not all ships are as inclusive or supportive, Walker says. In other places, “women are not treated well and it is done to them to prove themselves”.
Even where there is gender parity, she says, it can still be more of a struggle for women: tools and work clothes are often designed for men: “We need modifications, but it doesn’t make us useless or weak.”
Belinda Cree
“People talk to you like you’re a pioneer”
Friends and family describe Belinda Cree’s work as a “painter and desecrator.” Either she is painstakingly preparing the surfaces and finishes of a ship or, armed with a grinder, cutting off pieces of a hull.
“Boat maintenance is my specialty,” he says. “I’m derusting right now, treating the rough spots on the steel bulwarks.”
Cree, 28, is a self-employed boat builder, working in the assembly and maintenance of boats on land and at sea. He is currently working on the refit of a 1962 30m luxury motor yacht as a contractor for the ship’s owner in Southampton.
He was not always seen going to sea. Growing up in Northern Ireland, a back injury as a teenager thwarted his planned military career. It took him years to learn to live with his chronic pain and feel capable of taking on a physically demanding career.
Three years ago he did a period of traditional seamanship with National Historic Ships, which included a boat building course. “To live a good quality of life, I have to work hard on my health,” he says, “but it’s much more rewarding when that effort pays off in a job I love.”
As a woman in the maritime industry, she still feels strong pressure to prove herself. “I’d like to see the perception of who can work in this industry change,” he says. “People talk to you like you’re a pioneer. There’s not a lot of room to not be the best on the playground: ‘Are you going to allow me to be new, or to learn, or are you going to think I’m not good because I’m a woman?’”
She believes that social media groups can help. “Seeing other women doing their thing, especially women who are further ahead of me, with more experience, is encouraging. It gives you something to aim for.”
Obioma Oji
“Physical strength is not a factor, it’s about solving problems”
There is something fundamental about getting close to the water, says newly qualified boat builder Obioma Oji.
Oji, 43, and three of his fellow Lyme Regis Boatbuilding Academy graduates have launched a startup making affordable, high-end traditionally built wooden boats, which have become sought after for their quality, craftsmanship and sustainability, he says.
-
Oji moors the Ibis, a ship she helped build, at Lyme Regis; and mark defects in the wood in the workshop of the academy
Oji was working as an interior designer at Ikea when the pandemic prompted her to take a career break and start a boat building course. He saw it as an opportunity to learn more practical skills and feed his creative drive: before his career he had worked in ceramic design and interior architecture.
She started the course thinking she would be interested in rigging or sailmaking, “but it was carpentry that I liked best,” she says. “Each piece of wood is different and you can’t force it, you have to persuade it, read it. Physical strength is not a factor, it’s about solving problems.”
Women were in the minority on the course, as they are in the boat building industry. “We are outsiders,” says Oji.
Gail McGarva
“The shape of a ship tells you about its past, its work, its coast”
Gail McGarva often has no plans to follow when creating her traditional work boats in her Lyme Regis workshop. Finding a ship at risk of extinction, he tenderly crafts a replica he calls a “daughter” ship, following the lines of the mother ship, building by eye.
“I’ve always been drawn to workboats,” he says. “They have a strong sense of function. They are robust and beautiful, and every boat has a story. You look at the shape of the boat and it tells you about its past, its work, its coast.”
After living on boats for years, McGarva, 57, decided to focus on them after his careers in theater and as a sign language interpreter. He trained in boat building 18 years ago and has a passion for preserving cultural heritage.
His work includes the construction of 32ft (9.75m) Cornish pilot gigs, which were revived in the 1980s by artisan boatbuilder Ralph Bird. Loading it is now a popular sport.
“Often, as a traditional boatbuilder, we focus on restoration, but I was lucky that there was an explosion of interest in gigs and clubs were launching new boats,” he says. “It was an honor to have Ralph Bird as my mentor – it’s vital to have someone say you can do it.”
Having won numerous awards, including the British Empire Medal for services to clinker boatbuilding and heritage craft, McGarva also runs workshops around the country, sharing stories about the role these boats play in our heritage.
“This is still a male preserve,” she says, “but I’ve always believed that anything is possible. We need more role models for women.”
