Harkin is a self-confessed ‘nautical nut’ – an eccentric drawn to maritime artifacts like a moth to flame. His home – outside and within – is a wonderfully chaotic nautical emporium that underscores his passion. Visitors have an early clue to this world – a small lighthouse signals his driveway entrance. It functions as the letterbox.
Every bit of space is used to house this extraordinary collection. Outside you’ll find anchors, fishing paraphernalia, buoys, lanterns, old dinghies and much more. Inside it’s more detailed – brass portholes, ancient telescopes, sextants, paintings, books – and, of course, the models.
Where – and how – did it all begin?
Harkin’s not entirely sure, but points to his upbringing in
a boatbuilding family (father, brothers, nephews) – and even though that particular gene bypassed him (he’s never built a full-size vessel) he’s done a fair bit of boating in his life.
“I suppose the semi-dormant nautical interest has always been there. But the collecting bug really took hold – many years ago now – when I worked as a mobile plant operator on Auckland’s wharves. The kind of things people discard is surprising.”
His interest in model boatbuilding began inauspiciously.
As a retiree driving the Matakana School Bus he had time on his hands, and on one morning run he decided to build a model boat – perhaps an instinctive reaction to his rowdy passengers. A quiet, peaceful, solitary exercise. Fortuitously, he had some excess macrocarpa from a recent renovation – perfect for a little ship.
“I’m reasonably handy with timber but even so it was an ambitious project – a big three-master – built entirely from macrocarpa. I tackled it with the attitude that if it didn’t work out I could throw it on the fire. But it progressed steadily, and Matakana Lady was finished about nine months later.” It fills one corner of his lounge…
He’s since built nearly 30 models of every description – tall ships, power boats, yachts, launches, ferries and tugs. Some are only for display – others are fitted with radio controls and electric motors and can be used on the water. There is, however, one convention: every model has ‘Matakana’ in its name.
Remarkably, every model is a creation from his imagination. “I don’t do miniature replicas of real vessels. Such builds require referencing the original plans to get scale and details right – that’s for people who know what they are doing.”
The frustration with building replicas, he adds, is “that someone always comes along and says ‘this isn’t accurate, the doors are in the wrong place, or there are too many portholes.’
I don’t care for that sort of thing.”
Despite the absence of plans, the models exhibit exquisitely fine, fastidious work. Unlike the macrocarpa used for Matakana Lady, most are built from cedar, salvaged from old Venetian blinds. “It’s already perfectly machined and easy to work – and takes a hull’s curves without complaint.”
Detailed items such as windlasses and winches are turned on a small lathe, while a fretwork saw is used to fashion intricate components. He refuses to create spars on the lathe: “a perfectly-rounded spar doesn’t reflect the reality of the tools the shipbuilders used centuries ago – adzes, spokeshaves and drawknives. I think rustic masts and yards look more authentic.”
Some fittings require a bit of lateral thinking – and a lot of scavenging. “Portholes, for example, are typically created from grommets used in canvas work. I also ‘repurpose’ lots of small, nondescript items I find in secondhand shops and two-dollar stores.”
Inevitably, the model-building has been tempered by
a practical issue: lack of space. The vessels have spilled from various rooms into the garage – some are still in his workshop. As a result, he’s been forced to reduce the size of the models. The garage also contains a perfectly-scaled marina/wharf infrastructure that complements the models – no room for it in the home.
The Matakana Model Boat Show
Happily, Harkin’s models can be viewed at the biennial (every two years) Matakana Model Boat Show – held at the Matakana Primary School. Like the models themselves, the Show began on a whim.
He floated the idea of using a model boat display as a school fundraiser. The Board agreed – even if a little sceptically. The first show was held in 2020 with word of mouth proving a powerful catalyst. Scores of model boatbuilders quickly committed their handiwork – around 120 boats. The school pool also featured prominently – it became the arena for models equipped with RC technology.
A Covid-enforced postponement delayed the second show to 2024. But it drew 260 vessels featuring an eclectic range of designs and vintages – from small fishing dinghies to WW2 naval destroyers. “Next year’s event,” Harkin is confident, “will be even bigger, attracting builders from further afield.” Luckily, he has the support of about 10 committee members to help organize and run the event. All proceeds go to the school.
What drives a model boatbuilder?
Harkin shakes his head and snorts ruefully: “I think you’ve got to be stupid.” Nevertheless, he believes much of the passion is about preserving the maritime legacy – many builders create accurate replicas of historic vessels.
“In the absence of the real thing, models give observers a sense of heritage. They reflect how ships and sailors’ lives evolved over the centuries. They also offer an insight into the enormous role boats and ships played in global affairs and the development of maritime transport – particularly around a little island nation like New Zealand.”
The model fraternity, he reveals, has inadvertently become something of a repository for discarded models. “We receive models crafted many years ago – ‘heirlooms’ built by grandfathers and uncles. The descendants don’t want them anymore and don’t know what to do with them. And we’re happy to accept them – it helps to preserve the legacy.”
Hundreds of ‘Little Ships’ played a crucial role in rescuing some 340,000 British and French soldiers from the beaches of Dunkirk in 1940, crossing the English Channel in vessels of every description. Eighty-five years later, many of those vessels have been restored and remind observers of a pivotal moment in maritime history.
Matakana’s little ships – in a different way and on a much smaller scale – offer a similar insight.
