I shop for wood year 'round, whether I have a project going on or not, because it's not always easy to find good clear suitable lumber with nice color variations. I'd guess that maybe one in five visits to a lumber yard actually results in a purchase, and even then sometimes it's only one board.

I don't care what the dimensional size of the lumber is, I'm just looking for good clear suitable wood with as little waste as possible. If there's a bonanza of good stuff, then selection is based on lightest and darkest colors, and lightest weight.

This involves sorting and sifting through stacks and stacks of lumber, and it's done just as you fear; there's no easy way to do it. I am careful to leave the stacks as neat, or neater, than I found them not only out of common decency, but also because inconsiderate jackasses cause many lumber dealers to prohibit hand-picking due to chaotic messes left behind.

After milling into finished strips that are ready to use, each board is bundled and taped to maintain color consistency. Note the nice color contrasts; it's all western red cedar found in home improvement stores.

Jury is out on how I like it, but all indications so far are that I shall call it a keeper. In the meantime, it's wicked fun to take target practice on the trash can. You can go through some staples getting carried away, but I'm not worried; the smallest package of staples I could find contains like ten billion, and cost less than fifteen bucks. A small price to pay for relieving tension by pretending you're shooting at a lumber stack messer-upper dude.

Update: It's a keeper, no question about it. The staples are slimmer and daintier than hardware store staples; very little pressure is required to fire 'em, so is a lot easier on the ol' carpal tunnel syndrome and makes placement more accurate. The rows of staples are planted very consistently and the crowns stand proud of the surface perfectly thanks to the added brass space, which makes their eventual removal much easier. 

The acid test for tools around here is: if something were to happen to it, would I replace it, and if so, how quickly? Answer for the air stapler: yes, and promptly.

Porter-Cable Model US58T2 Upholstery Stapler.

Ever since I saw this picture several years ago I've been impressed, and, in a word, been wanting to shamelessly rip off the great idea. It's an elegantly simply-stated pinstripe design that speaks to me, so now's my big chance to have a similar one of my very own. I wish I could give credit to whoever posted it on the Guillemot KBB, but dang, it was a long time ago and I have trouble recalling what was for breakfast this morning.

In the best tradition of boat builders who shamelessly rip off other boat builders' ideas, I modified mine ever so slightly slightly so I could act like I'm halfway original. I kind of pinched the ends to make it look more tear droppy . . . but to tell the honest truth, I still like the original better. Oh well.

I thought of walnut first, for a nice chocolate-dark stripe, but there were problems: I want the selected wood to be lightweight, since that's my obsession and this boat is intended to weigh less than forty pounds, and also be soft enough to match sanding characteristics of the surrounding cedar and avoid humpy-lumpy issues. Basswood fills the bill nicely, and being at the polar opposite end of the color range isn't a problem with my medium-hued cedar background.

Then, I started out wanting a 1/4"-wide strip so the feature would stand out boldly, but it turned out to be too thick to take the bends necessary. After a bit of "R&D", 1/8" was settled on. At this point a philosophical debate might be entered upon as to whether I was forced into settling for something other than what I had envisioned, or if I took a more artistic approach and allowed the project to whisper its own desires into my ear, and I was being sufficiently open and sensitive to receive the messages. Probably the former, but the latter sounds better. Anyway, we're getting a 1/8" wide pinstripe feature. Here it is being laid out.

If you look carefully in the upper left of the photo, you can see straps laid over the hull, and a gallon jug of epoxy dangling from it. There's one on the other side as well. It's doing the same thing as discussed and illustrated here on my Merlin Canoe pages, ensuring that all strips lay snug to the forms with extra vigilance owing to lack of continuity due to the feature patterns.

Here's another way of ensuring same, when conditions permit. A bit of scrap strip is simply nailed to the form while bridging the two shores. It is pulled out after the glue sets, so the ensuing strips may be laid in its place.

And get used to it you will, for there will be ample opportunity to practice. Those first few may take some time to get  looking good, but you'll soon be needing only a minute or two for the job. Be prepared to experience a lot of fun and satisfaction in becoming skilled at it.

That last note may sound a little strange, but come on, it isn't like building your own kayak out of ten million little strips is the epitome of normal. The fact that you're studying this makes it pretty clear that you're slowly, inexorably, losing it, so just relax and enjoy the ride.

I often use the end of the strip as the toe mark, but only when the wood is clean and undamaged. Here, I'm backing off a little way to ensure good wood condition all the way to the extreme point.

It's always great fun to find you've inadvertently taken a bit off the wrong end, speaking of things that can lead to colorful language usage.

Nuthin' to it. This particular operation took about one minute.