A Windy Venture: My Journey with Mark Richey Woodworking
So, there I was, sitting in my old recliner after a day at the office, a steaming cup of joe in hand, staring out the window at the field behind my place. It was one of those perfect autumn afternoons—bright sun, crisp air, leaves swirling around like they were having a dance-off. And all I could think about was that old Mark Richey Woodworking wind turbine plan I had tucked away in a file folder. I stared at it, then back out at the wind picking up out there… and I thought, “Why not?”
Now, I should tell you, it wasn’t my first woodworking project. I’ve built a few things over the years—a picnic table that looks more like a Rorschach test after a paint spill, and some shelves that are somehow both sturdy and crooked. But a wind turbine? That felt like a leap. A big leap, like trying to jump over the buffalo grass that always seems to catch on my shoelaces.
A Leap of Faith
I started gathering all the materials. You know, the usual suspects: plywood, some 2x4s, and a hefty stainless steel bolt for the pivot. For the plywood, I went with some good ol’ birch. It smells amazing when you cut it—kind of sweet, likes it’s begging to be made into something beautiful. But, man, that stuff can be a pain when you’re trying to find a straight edge!
So there I was, in my makeshift garage workshop—it’s not much, really. Just an old table saw that sounds like it’s carrying a grudge and a few clamps that probably saw their heyday back in 1983. I cranked up some classic rock on the radio, just to drown out the occasional squawking of the squirrels outside. My mind was racing with visions of this beautifully functional turbine, whipping around and catching the wind like it was born to do it.
But I’ll tell ya, things didn’t go to plan right from the start. I almost gave up when I miscalculated the dimensions for the blades. You ever feel like you’re doing just fine, humming along, and then suddenly you hit a wall? I had my heart set on these long, elegant blades, and I cut them 6 inches too short. I stood there staring at the pieces, my coffee getting cold, thinking maybe I should just scrap the whole idea.
Making It Work
Well, after a few deep breaths—and probably a curse or two—I decided not to waste good wood. I rejigged the measurements, and thank goodness for that. I couldn’t believe it actually worked, even if my old uncle Fred rolled his eyes when I told him about it. “A wind turbine?” he said, chuckling. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re gonna make a solar panel out of tin cans!”
Anyway, I finally got everything cut, sanded, and put together. There was something incredibly satisfying about smoothing out that birch with my random orbital sander—like therapy but with sawdust. You could hear that quiet whirring, very zen. Sanding always calms me down, and it started to feel like I was making something real.
But as with all good stories, there was a twist. When I finally attached the blades to the hub, I realized I hadn’t thought about the weight distribution. Picture this: I had meticulously assembled this thing only to find it was like a toddler trying to carry a backpack twice its size. I barely got it up on the stand before it wobbled and leaned. The first gust of wind didn’t help either. I stood there, hands on my hips like a frustrated parent, just shaking my head.
A Second Wind
Oh, but here’s where things got interesting. This little setback led me to rethink my construction. I scrapped the wood I had, went back to the drawing board, and decided to use some lightweight aluminum tubing for the frame. I know, I know. A woodworker like me switching to metal? You could say I was breaking my own rules.
But it was one of those moments—almost comedic in hindsight—like “What else could go wrong?” The new setup felt solid, and when I finally finished the assembly with the blades attached, I took a step back, grabbed my coffee, and just stood there. I laughed when it actually worked! I still can’t believe how beautifully it spun in the slightest breeze.
I took the whole contraption out to the yard, careful not to let my excitement make me trip over roots and rocks. With a single push, there it went—spinning away like it was the happiest thing in the world.
Final Thoughts
As I sipped my coffee, the sun setting behind me, I couldn’t help but feel proud. Not just of the turbine, but of the whole process—the frustrations, the adjustments, the little victories. There’s a lesson in there somewhere, wrapped up in those screws and wood shavings.
If you’re thinking about trying something like this, just go for it. Don’t let mistakes hold you back. I wish someone had told me that earlier. Sometimes you gotta just jump in and see where the wind takes you, because there’s always something to be learned along the way—even when your blades are too short.
So here’s to optimism and patience. Here’s to woodworking and letting a little creativity fill the air, just like the wind in those blades. It’s a beautiful thing.
