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{This section feels a bit incomplete. We've had to leave out
a lot of engineering information, as there is neither space for
us to describe everything in detail, nor time for us to finish
all plans to completion now. But we still want to hit all the
major points, so let us know if we've missed something that seems
crucial to you. }
There is no one correct design for a seastead, since the best
choice depends on your goals, budget, and location. For this
reason we'll give a broad overview of the many types of
structures which have been suggested and some of the necessary
tradeoffs. Then we'll delve into detail on our
favorite design, the spar platform.
The most important design criterion is that the seastead be
safe in the harsh ocean environment, with its wind, waves, and currents. Thus all of these
designs will need to use some of our wave avoidance techniques.
Besides safety, the structure must be reasonably cost-effective,
or it will never be built. Cost may well be the main barrier
which has prevented people from becoming seasteaders. Its also
important that the design scale well to different sizes, so that
we can apply our incremental
approach. Dynamic Geography
tells us that physical modularity is also very desirable.
Seastead designs break down into three rough categories,
depending on their location relative to the water's surface.
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While there are some neat benefits to an undersea structure,
there are a large number of disadvantages and engineering
challenges as well.
Note that the positive scenic aspect can be achieved just by
having a small undersea portion of a structure which is mostly
above the water. (Although many seastead locations will just not
be very scenic). On net, it does not seem worthwhile to start
with an undersea structure. Those interested in more ideas about
living underwater should see [Fisher1985, pp. 64-73]
This category of designs consists of structures which float
directly on the ocean's surface. Since waves are dangerous, these methods
will need to somehow avoid them. We'll start with options based
on modifying existing designs, and move on to more novel
ideas.
"A boat is a hole in the water into which you throw money."
While we have not found any published literature on this
concept, it is unlikely that we are the first to think of it.
The concept is that a group of like minded people could purchase
a bunch of sailboats different sizes and costs and sail around
the ocean together. The standard self-sufficiency technologies
described later would be used to provide
electricity, fresh water, etc.
There are several advantages to this idea. Obviously
sailboats are a mature technology, with a large number of types,
repair facilities, books and so forth available. They are
extremely mobile using renewable energy, and can thus travel all
over the world living in "endless summer". While they
are not built for extremely rough seas, they are mobile enough
that with advance planning they should be able to avoid such
situations. And a fleet of sailboats is both modular and
scalable. They can even grow some food, as described in
Sailing the Farm [Neumeyer1982]. Unfortunately,
there are serious drawbacks.
Boats tend to be built from expensive materials, and are
costly to build and maintain. They are optimized for movement,
so they have have small deck areas (tough for solar panels and
greenhouses) and cramped interiors (tough for living in). Nor
are they particularly comfortable in significant waves. The
marketing/publicity angle is more difficult because it doesn't
seem like a new way of life. We cover these problems in more
detail in the FAQ question Why
not just buy a boat?.
There are definitely some nice aspects to a fleet of
sailboats, such as not having to design a new structure. It
would be a relatively easy way to start living on the water,
since there are people already doing it. But boats are designed
to travel from place to place across the ocean, not to live in.
The difference between a sailboat and a seastead is like that
between a house and a car. Sure, you can live in a van or RV,
but its just not that comfortable. The residents would be more
wandering nomads than permanent settlers. There is nothing wrong
with this lifestyle, but its not what we think of as true
seasteading.
Many people have suggested that rather than designing a unique
structure, seasteaders could just purchase and retrofit a large
used vessel such as an oil tanker or cargo ship. Again, the
standard self-sufficiency technologies would be used to provide
infrastructure. As evidence that big boats make decent floating
cities, we need only look at the cruise ship industry. One way
to think of this concept is as a low-budget, do-it-yourself
cruise ship.
Obtaining a used boat would reduce costs, and it would already
contain many useful systems like propulsion and navigation. The
propulsion could be used occasionally, although the ship would
mostly drift to conserve fuel. Large vessels are less responsive
to the waves than small ones and so more comfortable to be on
during storms, as well as safer.
Unfortunately, large boats are not exactly scalable, so it
would take a sizeable initial group to purchase one. They are
also not reconfigurable or modular (although an assembly of
multiple ships would be). They have many of the same drawbacks
as sailboats, like limited solar area and not seeming like a new
way of life. We've basically traded modularity and low starting
cost for seaworthiness and some interior volume, without really
gaining any ground. Like the sailboat fleet, the idea certainly
has some merit, but we don't think its the most promising
option.
Some of these issues can be addressed with a hybrid
combination of a cargo ship and some of the platform types
described below. The cargo ship would take the materials to some
remote island or atoll, and the colony would be deployed. In the
event of political problems, bad weather, or simple boredom, the
colonists would load everything back onto the boat and move
someplace new.
In waters that are naturally calm or somehow protected, there
are many simple systems that can be used to turn water into land.
Each consists of some sort of buoyant foundation on which to put
whatever structure is desired. While we'll be recommending a
different approach, this one is quite promising as well. In an
area without large waves, it would be quite cost-effective, and
should be strongly considered as an alternate design.
One of the simplest systems was suggested by Wayne Gramlich in
his original seasteading paper [Gramlich1999]. It utilizes
plastic 2-liter beverage bottles, which are extremely common,
incredibly cheap, and resistant to sea water. These bottles can
be banded together into hexagonal grids of 7 bottles each. The
grids are then stacked and layered to form a buoyant lattice.
Alternatively, one can use Rich Sowa's method of filling nets
with the bottles. Some sort of rigid surface then needs to be
placed on top of the flotation.
Another simple technique is to have an inverted cylinder, open
at the bottom, containing air. This idea was used by Sea
Structures Inc. for their SeaCell system [SSI]. A disadvantage with open
containers is that as depth increases, the air is compressed and
displacement goes down. This flotation is cheap to manufacture,
and can be stacked for easy transport. Again, some sort of rigid
platform needs to sit on these cells.
Yet another simple method is concrete slabs such as those
manufactured by IMF [IMF]. These are
hollow boxes of reinforced concrete, with enough buoyancy from
the interior airspace to support the concrete as well as a
structure. IMF's designs include shock-absorbing connectors,
integrated structural cleats and pile rings, and integrated
utilities. Because the structures are monolithic and sealed,
they cannot take on water and are unsinkable unless broken. And
ferrocement is cheap. Most floating homes in the USA nowadays
are built on such slabs. They'd be fairly easy to connect to one
another, and small ones could be easily built onboard. We think
this is the most promising aquatory technology for protected
waters.
One interesting possibility is the PSP designed by Float
Incorporated [FloatInc]. It
consists of a number of inverted hollow cylinders, as described earlier, but with a
clever addition. Imagine what happens as a wave rolls under
these cylinders. The water in each cylinder moves up and down,
and the air pressure in the trapped airspace changes. In a PSP,
these spaces are connected through pneumatic lines and valves, so
that these pressure changes result in air moving between cells.
This dampens the waves and distributes their force so as to
reduce peak load on the structure. If air turbines are attached
to these lines, it becomes a wave-powered electricity
generator.
The PSP has some characteristics of a platform (it can support
loads) and some of a breakwater (it attenuates waves). It is
built out of concrete, our favorite construction material, so its
relatively cheap. Its very modular and fairly reconfigurable.
Cost estimates are $5M - $7.5M an acre ($115-$160/ft2
in the open ocean. However the inventors have not been able to
find a major purchaser, so this is an unproven technology. We
have some concerns about the design's ability to withstand (or
block) severe storms, with waves large enough to wash over the
edge of the platform. Still, it is a promising system.
The ideal seastead technology is safe, inexpensive, and
modular. Here we'll consider whether structures built out of
converted freight containers qualify.
The shipping industry has been revolutionized by these
containers. Freight containers can be moved between trucks,
ocean freighters and trains without requiring that the container
contents be changed. Their popularity has made them cheap and
plentiful. Used 40 ft freight containers can sometimes be
obtained for less than a thousand dollars. A similar alternative
is large propane tanks, which are much stronger because they're
built to hold pressurized gas. They cost several thousand
dollars (used), but this may be worthwhile for safety.
The table below summarizes a number of common container sizes:
Since the weight of 1 cubic foot of water is 62.4 lb., a sealed container can generate a substancial amount of bouyancy. For example a 40 foot high cube container generates 62.4 × 2692 - 9150 = 158,831lb or almost 80 tons of bouyancy.
Container Length
(ft'in")Width
(ft'in")Height
(ft'in")Volume
(ft3)TARE
(lb)Payload
(lb)Max. Gross
(lb)20' Dry 19'10.5" 8' 8'6" 1,173 5,160 47,740 52,900 40' Dry 40' 8' 8'6" 2,391 8,730 58,470 67,200 40' Hi Cube 40' 8' 9'6" 2,692 9,150 58,050 67,200 48' Domestic Dry 48' 8'6" 9'6" 3,463 9,700 57,500 67,200 53' Domestic Dry 53' 8'6" 9'6" 3,830 10,280 56,920 67,200
Since freight containers are not designed to float, some
effort must be expended to convert them. The basic concept is to
weld all holes and vents shut, along with the access doors, and
to install a seaworthy access port. It must also be sandblasted
and coated with seaworthy paints. It may need some structural
reinforcement, as the corrugated steel skin is not meant to
withstand much force.
Once the container is seaworthy it is ballasted on one end to
force it into a vertical orientation with 1/2 to 2/3 of the
container submerged below the water line. This reduces
interaction with waves. In a storm with large waves, the
structure will basically move up and down with the waves with
relatively little rocking motion. Because its small enough to
bob, it doesn't absorb much wave energy. In addtion, by
submerging a significant fraction of the structure below the
water line, there is less swaying due to high winds. This is
similar to Marc Piolenc's spar buoy. In
a severe storm, the occupants of a container will definitely be
pushed around. However, as long as everything is properly
secured inside the container, about the worst that will happen is
a severe case of sea sickness.
Even though the freight container should be relatively safe in
pretty severe weather, it is still prudent to plan on situating
freight container seasteads in areas that do not often experience
severe weather. It is further prudent to have a means of moving
a freight container seastead out of the way of an approaching
severe storm. A basic outboard motor should provide the means to
move a modest distance even though a freight container is hardly
shaped for optimum traversal through water.
One nice characteristic of this design is that it can be
easily purchased, stored on inexpensive property during
conversion, converted, and then shipped off to an ocean
deployment location. Freight containers are designed to be moved
around, so it is relatively easy and inexpensive to do so.
Ballasting may need to weight until the final site, as it will
make the container heavy and unbalanced.
Since its oriented vertically, we can divide the container
into floors. Assuming a 40 foot container on end with
approximately 8' ceilings yields 5 floors. The bottom floor will
be partially occupied with ballast, so it should really be
thought of as a cramped storage compartment rather than a full
livable floor. Using a 48' container provides an additional
floor and a 53' container might provide two additional floors.
Since the dimensions are 8' by 9.5', each floor is 76
ft2. This is not luxurious,
but for some people it will be adequate. The total area of 300
ft2 actually compares favorably
with the floor area of a sea worthy sail boat. For more space,
multiple containers can be welded together into larger units.
Giving the limited top deck area, we need some creative
solutions to provide an adequate supply of food, water, and
power. Just like the larger structures we'll propose later,
there is no reason why a container seastead can't have a
cantilevered upper platform to provide additional solar area.
During bad weather, anything kept up here can be stored safely
inside. Another simple solution is to tether inexpensive
inflatable floats to the seastead. These could support solar distillers, PV panels, and small greenhouses.
Again, in bad weather these are deflated and brought inside.
The primary reason to think about freight containers is to
propose alternatives that further lower the cost of bootstrapping
seasteading into existance. Will a freight container seastead be
as safe in severe weather as one of its larger cousins? Almost
certainly not. However, it is probably safe enought that it can
seriously be considered as a potential start. As the seastead
community gets larger, the need for this design may well diminish
as people switch to structures designed specifically for
seasteading. Thus, freight container seasteads should really be
thought of as a bridging technology between what is available now
versus what we can build eventually. Alternatively, they may
continue on as low-income housing, much like trailer homes on
land.
"Any structure or contrivance to break the force of waves, and afford protection from their violence."
A simple example of a breakwater is any island or reef, which
acts as a natural barrier for its lee shore. Artificial
breakwaters can be seen surrounding the entrances to any marina,
usually consisting of concrete piers or piles of rock.
The advantage of using a breakwater is that it eliminates all
the problems caused by waves.
Structures become much cheaper, safer, and easier to expand,
seaplanes can land and cargo is easier to offload. But to do
this, you must dissipate the tremendous energy found in ocean
waves, and do it continuously, for years on end, even during
severe storms. If the breakwater fails, suddenly your structures
must face waves they were not designed for, which may be
disastrous. We'll outline a number of the different methods that
could be used to build such breakwaters. Later we'll explore the
question of when this is the best way to deal with waves.
Any landmass which reaches close to or above sea level acts as
a natural breakwater. Rock is tough stuff, and it takes quite
awhile for the ocean to grind it into sand. There are basically
two options: we can shelter by a large landmass (which will
almost certainly be inhabited), or a small one. Large landmasses
have political difficulties, as we will be fairly close to
existing nations. It is difficult to be protected on all sides
yet still be in international waters. Still, there are some
possibilities if we are willing to accept moderate waves, such as
seas like the Mediterranean.
Smaller breakwaters include atolls, reefs, and seamounts. An
atoll is a special class of island that is formed when the ocean
has worn a volcanic peak down to a roughly circular shape. As a
result, they basically consist of a breakwater surrounding a calm
lagoon. Because so many islands are volcanic in origin, atolls
are quite common, and many are uninhabited. One of the more
famous is the Bikini island atoll in the Marshalls, where the US
conducted nuclear testing [Bikini]. These lagoons range in size
from tens of thousands of acres down to almost nothing.
Yachtsmen, encountering unexpected storms, have weathered
gale-force winds by anchoring in such lagoons, so atolls
definitely act as a wave barrier [Fisher1985, p. 52].
Unfortunately, the fact that atolls contain land means that they
are all claimed by an existing country. While an abandoned atoll
could doubtless be used for awhile before anyone noticed, our
goal as seasteaders is to create a stable way of life. We want
to be pioneers, not outcasts. This renders claimed atolls
unsuitable for frequent use.
The obvious solution is to look for submerged atolls or reefs,
which do not count legally as land. After all, a breakwater does
not need to extend above water to provide significant protection,
it need only come close. These submerged reefs and rocks,
formerly only known as hazards to navigation, can be used to
protect our new way of life from the elements. While the Minerva incident indicates that
nations do not always respect these rules, our chances are much
better if we follow them.
Unfortunately, suitable geographic features are likely to be
rare. Any rock above water creates a zone of 3-24nm around it of
sovereign waters. So we need a reef which is not within that
distance of any above-water reef. It can't be too far below
water, or it won't be a useful breakwater. So we need an area
where the reef comes quite close to the surface, yet never rises
above it, and the odds are against this happening.
An additional advantage to such natural breakwaters (if we can
find them) is that they provide for cheap and easy anchoring.
Also, they are likely to have pretty underwater scenery. A
disadvantage is that the colony is tied to one physical location,
which means that it cannot easily avoid political problems, move
with the seasons, etc.
An alternative to finding a submerged breakwater is to be
close enough to some appropriate landmass that it can be used for
shelter during severe storms. While the waters would be legally
controlled by another nation, the use would only be occasional
and its unlikely that anyone would be paying attention. Still,
satellite photos could be used later as part of some legal
maneuver. In an emergency this solution is fine, since any court
is more forgiving than Davy Jones Locker, but it seems a
poor idea to depend on it.
Artificial breakwaters have a long history of use to protect
harbors, marinas, and coastlines. There are numerous breakwater
designs, and they are fairly simple in principle, so we won't
cover them in detail. Most rely on big pieces of concrete,
although there are many alternative methods. Most designs are
meant to rest on the seafloor, or at least be tethered to it.
While this is fine for shallow water (perhaps on a seamount or
reef), it won't work in any significant depth. Hence we need a
floating breakwater.
Ocean waves can be very large, hence a traditional design
would need to be very large. Rather than absorbing all the
energy, perhaps we can simply get it to dissipate harmlessly.
This may sound difficult, but this can be seen on any beach with
a wave break. The incoming waves, reaching shallow water, begin
to pile up. They reach an unsustainable height, form the
familiar whitecaps, and break, collapsing on themselves. Only a
gentle wash reaches the shore. The soothing sounds and pretty
patterns on the sand are all that remain of the wave's
energy.
This effect could be simulated by submerging a long triangular
breakwater. As waves reach it, they will pile up and eventually
break. This breakwater does not need to be particularly strong,
because this aikido-like method never takes the brunt of the
force. Still, it will need to be be quite large, and will not be
cheap or easy to build.
Any non-anchored breakwater will be steadily pushed by the
waves towards the center colony, so the two must be strongly
connected. Many breakwater designs such as the simple concrete
wall, the aikido breakwater, and the PSP could be used in such a
configuration.
The final option for avoiding waves is to place our structures
above water level using pillars made of steel or concrete. Many
permanent marine structures, such as oil platforms, use this
technique. These "spars" present little
cross-sectional area, so that waves pass through without
imparting much energy. The extra engineering problems posed by
spars are more than balanced by not having to endure the
bashing of waves.
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If the water is shallow enough, the pillars can rest
directly on the sea floor. Thus there is no movement due to
currents, wind, and waves. Unfortunately, pillars are not
well-suited to dynamic geography,
and they have all the political dangers of a fixed location.
While oil rigs can have pillars as deep as 3000 ft., they also
have budgets in the billions, and it will take much shallower
waters for a pillared seastead to be cost-effective.
The most impressive example of this type of structure is the
massive Troll A gas platform, located in the North Sea off the
coast of Norway. Only a handful of skyscrapers and oil rags are
taller, and it became the tallest structure ever moved over the
face of the earth when it was towed 174 nautical miles to its
operating location. It is built from ferrocement, our material
of choice.
| Height | 472m |
| Expected Lifetime | 50-70 years |
| Total Weight | 1,050,000 metric tonnes |
| Deck Area | 8,670 m2 |
| Water Depth | 303m |
The deck and pillars were built separately and united while
floating in a fjord. Norske Shell describes the process:
[NorskeShell]
- On 25 January 1995 the deck and concrete gravity base were mated by the Aker Companies Norwegian Contractors (NC) and Aker Stord.
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- Tugboats towed the deck into position in front of the four legs of the concrete base, which were submerged with only 6.5 metres of freeboard
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- The barges were drawn in towards the gravity base the last few metres by means of cables
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- The most critical phase was positioning the deck on top of the four legs with millimetre precision and transferring the weight from the barges to the gravity base
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- Gradually ballast water was pumped out of the base, the barges were removed and the deck gradually rose to 30 metres above the surface of the water
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The design, assembly, and towing of this platform validate a
number of our design features which you'll see later. Hence we
don't need to demonstrate that such structures are possible, but
merely that they can be built cost-effectively.
Another option is to have pillars which are buoyant and
floating, but anchored to the seafloor with tensioned lines.
These lines prevent vertical movement, but allow for some
horizontal motion. Unlike fixed pillars, a TLP can be detached
and moved to a new location. They can operate as deep as 7,000
feet, although the tensioned lines are very expensive.
{ Not sure what else to say here }
A seagoing, self-propelled barge that rides at anchor,
stands on partially submerged vertical legs on submerged
pontoons, and serves as living quarters and a base of operations
in offshore drilling. [AHDE4]
This is a standard barge design for places where good weather
is infrequent. It has a much lower response to waves than a
normal ship, because the waves sweep through between the columns.
This allows it to operate in rougher conditions. The
disadvantages are related to the weight balance required for
stability. The topside cargo capacity is much lower than a ship,
because too much weight causes stability problems (the barge
becomes topheavy and tips). It needs sophisticated ballast
controls, like a submarine, which adds expense compared to a
ship.
However, a seastead doesn't have large load requirements, so
this is not as much of a problem. This closely resembles our
preferred design.
The problem with the pillared platform is that it is immobile,
and in deep water it requires very long, expensive pillars. The
problem with the semisubmersible is that much of its flotation is
close to water level, and its platform is not high enough to
avoid all waves. So it escapes some wave force, but not enough.
The logical solution is to make tall thin legs, like a pillared
platform, but to have them resting on submerged buoyancy, like a
semisubmersible. We call this a floating spar platform.
The simplest version is Marc Piolenc's spar buoy concept.
This consists of a vertical cylinder ballasted at one end.
Essentially, the structure is all spar and nothing else. The
ballast must be considerable in order to make the structure float
vertically, especially if a substantial portion of the spar is
above water. The spar is a suitable design for weak building
materials such as seacrete, which cannot handle cantilevered
loads. { Picture }
There are some disadvantages to this system, however. Solar
area is very important for PV panels, growing food, heating
water, etc, and the tip of the spar doesn't give us much. We
don't have much living volume either, just what's inside the
spar. So its natural to stick a platform on top of the spar, to
get a lot more solar area, and make that platform several levels
high to get more volume.
Unfortunately, this makes the structure a little more
topheavy. Now we need more flotation and ballast to compensate.
As we add them to the bottom of the spar, it begins to get very
long. The point of the spar is to present a thin front to the
waves. This means that once you get below the bottom of the
waves, its not really necessary to use a spar shape. We can
simply widen out into a larger flotation chamber.
Combine these observations, and you get our preferred seastead
design, which looks somewhat like a dumbbell, possibly with multiple spars:
Having several pillars is necessary for
large seasteads, since you can only project the platform out so
far. But for smaller platforms, its easier to just have one
spar, since the cantilevering is not as expensive as the multiple
spars and connections. This also allows for more modularity. We
can build multiple single-spar platforms, and assemble them
together to get a multi-spar
system.
Later in this chapter we'll present lots more detail on this
design.
{? Show William Barkley's ReefHome too?}
When the same concept for avoiding waves is applied to boat
design, the result is a Small Waterplane Area Twin Hull, or
SWATH. As you can see from the picture of the Frederic
G. Creed on the right, such boats have two submerged,
torpedo-like hulls with hydrodynamic struts above them. So the
drag mostly consists of laminar flow along these hulls, rather
than drag from waves at the waterplane (there is no waterplane).
This makes the hull a little slower in calm water, but much more
stable in heavy seas [SWATH].
While a monohull version was patented in 1880 and a SWATH
design in 1946, the first ships were not built until the late
1960's and early 1970's. Although there are only about 50
worldwide, several are notable. For example, in 1992 Radisson
built the Diamond, a 20,000 ton SWATH cruise ship. The design
gives this 350-guest ship much less rolling motion than other
cruise ships of similar size. While it looks somewhat like a
catamaran above the water, below the water the Diamond features
the same torpedo-like pontoons as the Creed.
In 1993, the public learned about the US Navy's Sea
Shadow, a futuristic-looking A-Frame SWATH vessel which had
previously only been operated at night. This 160-foot long
stealth ship was manufactured by Lockheed-Martin in Redwood City,
CA as a test platform for various technologies. It features a
low radar signature, and while only capable of 14 knots can
operate in extremely rough conditions.
As we've mentioned, oil platforms are an excellent example of
a pillared marine structure built to withstand the battering of
the ocean. A number of people have suggested that rather than
building some unique new structure, a group simply find an old
oil platform and use it. While platforms are expensive to build,
there is not much reason to charge a lot for an old one. In
fact, the group could even be paid to dispose of it. There are
thousands of oil platforms, and disposing of them safely is
required and costly.
There are obviously both advantages and disadvantages to this
technique. You get the building material much more cheaply.
However, its part of a structure that was not intended as a
permanent residence, so considerable retrofitting will be
necessary. Having exceeded its expected lifetime, there are
likely to be structural concerns. For example, sacrificial
coatings for biofouling will
be worn through and sacrificial anodes will be dissolved.
Further investigation by experienced marine engineers is
necessary to determine whether this is a feasible option.
When evaluating these designs, there are several issues which
come up frequently.
Our main concern with fixed-locations is political insecurity.
If some country claims that you don't have the right to be there,
the colony is screwed, as relocating is likely to be very
expensive. Colonists may not be willing to move there in the
first place because of this risk. A free-floating design can
always just move on. When you're talking about an
expensive capital outlay (analagous to a house plus part
ownership of the local utility company), the residenst are going
to find that level of security invaluable.
One could point out that the same pair of options is true
today in normal countries, yet we usually choose to live in
buildings rather than RVs because the political inflexibility is
worth the extra room. But at sea, the tradeoffs are quite
different, because the cost of moving buildings is so low. It is
possible to have a house-like amount of space with car-like
flexibility. Additionally, the potential dangers are more
serious because of the uncertain political position of seasteads.
Hence the fixed strategy is much less attractive.
Admittedly, there are advantages to a fixed location. One can
discover and exploit local resources. Building costs will be
cheaper. The colony can establish trade routes, and lay fiber
optic lines. More long-term planning based on weather and local
resources becomes possible. Pollution and bad waste practices
are less likely. For these reasons, some groups may choose this
route. However, we see political freedom as the fundamental
motivation for seasteading, and freedom of movement is an
important part of getting and keeping political freedom.
Besides the underwater solution,
which we find unattractive, there are three basic ways to deal
with waves. We can avoid them geographically (doldrums), stop
them with breakwaters or rise above
them with pillars. We'll focus here
on comparing the latter two methods.
The crucial difference lies in how the two methods scale. A
breakwater for ocean waves must be massive, it can't be built on
a small scale. On the other hand, if you think of the breakwater
as forming the perimeter of a circle with the colony inside, you
can see that as the circle grows, the size of the breakwater
grows with r, while the enclosed area grows with r2. This means that the ratio (how much
breakwater is needed per unit area) falls with 1/r, which is a
huge economy of scale. So for large colonies, breakwaters will
be cheap, for tiny colonies they'll be tremendously
expensive.
Pillars, on the other hand, have no such economy of scale. If
you want to build another unit of area, you need the same amount
of pillar as before. However, each individual pillar is fairly
small, a small platform only needs one, and their cost is not out
of reach of a new project. Thus pillars are well suited to our
incremental approach. Still, one of the great things about the
ocean is that there is plenty of room. So the high marginal cost
of pillars is somewhat unfortunate, in that it makes using this
space expensive.
This suggests to us that for small, initial seasteads, the
pillar is a much better method. As the communities grow and
become city-sized, they will reach a point where breakwaters
become cost-effective. So while breakwaters are not suited to
the initial stage which we're focusing on, they will be a crucial
way to bring down costs later, and let us expand into all that
cheap, unused real estate.
There are several other factors to note. Breakwaters can be
used to obtain energy while damping waves. It is easiest to
build them in fixed locations, which is problematic as described
above. However it is possible to build a floating breakwater
with a rigid connection to the colony, so the problem is
avoidable.
Another worry is that by fencing off a fixed area, breakwaters
may lead to a static geography. That is, if a single government
has control of the area, they are a monopoly. Because of the
economies of scale, residents can't just leave and start their
own colony cheaply. This is not insoluble, but it
is something to be aware of.
The level of modularity in our designs varies greatly. Sailboat fleets, for example, are
quite modular. Individual boats can leave or shuffle around as
they wish. A huge cargo ship, on the
other hand, is monolithic. Modularity is important for two
reasons.
The first is dynamic geography.
In order for DG to function, small groups of residents must be
able to move their personal space. We think this is crucially
important to making this new way of life better than the old.
Hence we are skeptical of fixed-geography designs.
The second reason is to allow for incrementalism. A modular
structure is likely to be amenable to an incremental approach
where one module at a time is built. We think this approach is
vital to actually making a floating city
happen. Thus designs which require a large initial capital
outlay do not seem promising.
Just like a car buyer, seasteaders must ponder this age-old
conundrum: lay out the dough for something new, customized, with
a long life ahead of it, or thriftily convert someone else's
throwaway. While we tend towards the new approach, the issue is
certainly not clear cut. A new, strange-looking seastead will
feel to the world like a different way of life. This helps our
political ends, as well as marketing appeal to prospective
residents. It can be designed specifically for a permanent,
comfortable, settled ocean life - which is not true of any
existing structure. On the other hand, there are many large
boats and oil platforms which are no longer useful for their
original purpose, and can be bought quite cheaply considering the
materials which have gone into them. Avoiding design work may
lead to an imperfect solution, but at least it gets there
sooner.
What tilts the balance for us is the surprisingly low cost of
the structural portion of a seastead. (Renewable energy
technologies are more expensive, but they would be needed in any
design). Because designing and building a seastead is not that
expensive, we see less reason to go the cheap route.
Our preferred material is ferrocement, which is cement
reinforced with iron rebar. However, a large number of previous
ventures have proposed using an interesting material called
seacrete. Our skepticism of this substance bears explaining.
{ Should we also explain other engr. mat. considerations in
the marine environment? ie stainless, coatings, sacrificial
anodes, plastics... }
Professor Wolf Hilbertz came up with the fascinating idea to
create a material by submerging an electrified wire mesh in
seawater. Minerals are drawn out of the water by the current,
and a cement-like substance is slowly grown by accretion. Eric
Lee [Lee] has done a very complete
analysis of the use of seacrete as a marine construction
material.
The number of 4.2 lbs / kWhr (1.9 kg/kWhr) cited for seacrete
energy requirements in places like [Savage1992], if correct, would
make it quite efficient. Unfortunately, this figure has two
serious flaws. First, it is based on a single experiment [Hilbertz1979]. Second, it is
off by a factor of 42 due to a computation error, as Eric Lee has
demonstrated. Rather than integrating power over time to get
energy, the power used was taken as the energy. The process took
42 hours, hence the error. In fact, at maximum theoretical
efficiency the rate is only 1 kg/kWh, and practical efficiences
are much less than this. Hilbertz's published experiment
produced only 0.046 kg/kWhr. At this rate, the energy alone
costs well over an order of magnitude more than just buying
cement.
There are additional problems. The major power loss is
resistive heating of the forming seacrete. This is because the
electricity has to get from the mesh through the seacrete to the
seawater, and the seacrete is not a very good conductor. So of
course the thicker the seacrete gets, the worse these losses will
be. If you want to make structural walls for a sea colony, this
is a definite problem. You can reduce resistance using a 3d wire
mesh, but such meshes drastically increase the cost.
Because you are trying to replace such a cheap material
(ferrocement), it doesn't take much to make seament uneconomical.
In fact, there are some ways in which the ocean is the worst
place to use seament. Its a place where energy is expensive and
transportation is cheap. Using seacrete instead of importing
cement is choosing to use energy instead of transportation - a
poor tradeoff.
Marc Piolenc has suggested one interesting way of making
seament worthwhile. You could set up a structure and some
renewable energy scavenger in a remote place, then leave it for
years to do its work. Even though the process is inefficent, you
can replace efficiency with time if your source of energy is the
kind which keeps on producing.
However attractive the idea of turning seawater into cement,
seacrete appears to be a poor choice as a construction
material. In practice, it is probably easier to use boring
concrete and steel to build economical marine structures.
{ how much should we say here? }
Our building material of choice is reinforced concrete, also
known as ferrocement. It is a composite of two materials: steel
rebar and concrete (which is made from cement and gravel). The
steel has a very high tensile strength (its hard to break by
pulling), and the concrete has very high compressive strength
(its hard to crush). The combination is a material which is
strong under many loads. Since its mostly made out of rocks
(which are plentiful) its extremely cheap.
In the image you can see the framing system used for
ferrocement construction. First a rebar mesh is built, then
concrete can be troweled on, or forms can be built and the cement
poured in. One advantage is that once a set of forms has been
built, they can be re-used many times. Also, since this is an
extremely common building material, there are a huge number of
ferrocement books, supplies, consultants, and contractors.
While it is not as popular as steel and fiberglass,
ferrocement has a long history of use in the marine environment.
It does require some special treatment, however. Over time,
structural stresses create small cracks in cement. While this is
not a problem on land, in the marine environment saltwater can
seep in and corrode the rebar. For this reason, all surfaces
will need to be carefully sealed. In our case, this means two
layers of sealant. First will be Ashford formula, which makes it
very difficult for water to penetrate the concrete. However,
pressure over time will cause water to slowly seep through this,
so an additional coat of epoxy will be used on the outer surface.
Internal surfaces will only be exposed to humidity, not pressure
or direct water, so the Ashford formula alone is sufficient.
An alternate possibility is to use a treatment like Xypex,
which fills the pores and capillary tracts of concrete with
impermeable crystals. Also, fibers can be added to the cement
mix to add extra strength against cracking. Whatever system is
used, it will be important to check occasionally to ensure that
corrosion has not occured. The easiest way to do this is with a
commercial device which examines the electrical resistance of the
rebar lattice.
For interior, non-load-bearing surfaces, the full strength of
ferrocement is not required. There are several alternate
concrete formulations which are not suitable for holding up
buildings, but feature the same durability and convenience.
There are two basic ways of making them.
The first is to bulk up ordinary cement by adding foam. This
can greatly reduce the cost per unit volume when strength is not
a priority. One method is to add 1-20 pounds of powdered
aluminum per ton of concrete to the mix. The alumnimum foams up
into gas, and can double the volume of the resulting product [TechTopics2000]. Another
technique is to generate foam from soap such as dishwashing
liquid. This can be done with a cheap homemade device and an air
compressor, and the result also has about half the density of
ordinary cement. Plans for such a device can be found at [Pelagic], and a picture of
Wavyhill's experiments is shown at right.
The second method is to substitute a weaker, lighter, cheaper
material for the gravel constituent of concrete. One example is
"papercrete", which is a form of concrete using paper
instead of gravel. The paper is mixed with sand, cement, and
water to form a material which can withstand 300 psi and has an
insulation value up to R-2. While papercrete holds its shape and
is reasonably strong even when wet, it is not suitable for very
wet environments (like exteriors or bathrooms) as it soaks up
water quickly and dries slowly. When free paper trash is
available, papercrete is even cheaper than ordinary unreinforced
cement [MotherEarth2000].
While concrete is normally poured into forms, it can also be
sprayed into place using a mixture known as shotcrete. This can
make construction much easier. For example, it is a key part of
the construction technique used to build monolithic domes like
the Eye Of The Storm mentioned earlier. These structures are
cleverly made by inflating a large plastic form, building a rebar
lattice, and then spraying on shotcrete. This avoids the need to
build house-sized forms, since the inflated plastic provides the
shape. As we'll describe later, similar techniques may help us
build seasteads without a shipyard.
Our preferred design for initial seasteads is the
free-floating dumbbell. Some of its advantages:
There are a few disadvantages as well:
While we feel that the spar platform is the best combination
of safety and cost-effectiveness, others may disagree. Some
people are quite emphatic that this is too expensive and sailboat fleets, cargo ships, or dirt-cheap concrete slabs are the way to go. If
that describes you, don't worry. As you've seen in Ocean Environment, we discuss many topics
of general interest for any ocean-worthy floating home, and this
will continue to be true as we talk about infrastructure and further issues.
On the right you can see the seastead hull with the top and
outside wall removed. The central spar is inserted into the
center. The torroidal floatation hull is divided into several
equal sized compartments. Each compartment has a fixed amount of
relatively dense ballast (e.g. lead, steel) represented as
brown. In addition, ocean water is used as a variable ballast
which is pumped in and out to change the displacement; this is
represented by the light blue in the diagram above. The hull is
made from ferrocement.
As an additional safety factor, the seastead will have
additional floation right below the bottom of the living
platform. This may take the form of cheap flotation like 2-liter
bottles, or the platform itself may be designed as a hull. If,
for some reason, the submerged flotation or spar should entirely
fail, the seastead would sink only to the bottom of the living
platform. During construction, and certain engineering
operations involving the spar, we may lower the seastead so its
resting on this safety hull. This requires calm weather, since
the living platform is not designed to take substantial
waves.
While our current plans call for a symmetrical hull, another
option would be to make the hull more oblong in shape. During
transportation, the seastead would be oriented to move towards
the narrow end, thus reducing drag. The hull would also act as a
keel.
| Material | Weight (g/cm3) |
|---|---|
| Water | 1.0 |
| Concrete | 2.3 |
| Iron, Steel | 7.0-8.0 |
| Lead | 11.3 |
| DU | 19 |
A large quantity of ballast is required in order to make the
structure stable (as we explain later).
This is what the yellow area in the flotation hull diagram
represents. This ballast needs to be very dense, because only
weight in excess of the weight of water counts towards its
effect - and water is pretty heavy stuff. The weights of some
potential ballasting materials are shown on the right.
As we can see, concrete is just not dense enough. Almost half
its weight does not count underwater. Iron, steel, and lead are
all of good ballast density. Ballast is actually one of the
biggest structural costs of a seastead, because our design needs
such huge quantities (200 tons for even a small coaststead).
Since all we care about is weight and density, we should use
scrap. We want to minimize our cost per pound of a material with
the appropriate density. Lead is several times more expensive
than scrap iron and steel, so is a worse material, although it
does have the advantage that scrap can be easily melted into
ingots.
One interesting possibility is depleted uranium (DU). It is
extremely dense, and sealed into concrete its tiny amount of
radioactivity would not be dangerous. Water stops what little
radiation it has extremely quickly. Since its expensive to
dispose of, we might possibly even get paid to take it, which
would be a big cost savings. It would also be a "swords to
plowshares" conversion - using a byproduct of the weapons
industry to start a new way of life. However, not everyone may
see it that way, and there could be negative political
consequences, so using DU should be considered carefully.
Reader W.E. Johns suggests that if the seastead's power
systems use conventional lead-acid batteries, the battery bank
itself could form part of the ballast. This makes the weight a
benefit rather than a cost. On the other hand, it adds distance
and thus transmission loss, as well as making maintenance more
difficult.
The main criteria that go into designing the spar are its
height and the total amount of weight it must support. The
choice of the height depends upon the anticipated worst case
waves expect to hit the tower during the expected lifetime of the
spar. It is potentially a matter of life and death that our
structure be safe, but given that constraint, we wish it to be
economical.
At right is a cutaway view of the spar, which is
compartmentalized up its length to provide a number of individual
water tight compartments. If any compartment springs a leak, the
remaining compartments will continue to provide bouyancy.
Additionally there is an access ladder that runs the length of
the spar with water tight doors between the compartments. Thus,
somebody can go all the way down to the flotation hull from
inside the spar.
The spar is hollow for several reasons. First, we do want to
have some flotation area at the waterline, otherwise the seastead
will be totally unstable in terms of vertical height, and
difficult to maintain at a desired height. Also, having some of
the flotation be in the spar moves the center of buoyancy up,
which makes it easier to get the center of gravity under it for
stability. Of course, the downside of
spar flotation is additional sensitivity to waves in both
vertical and horizontal motion.
It is probably desirable to have at least a small habitable
underwater room with viewports. The lowest section of the spar
would be an appropriate place, and in clear water the view would
be well worth the additional cost. Lower spar sections can also
be used to store rarely used items. Some of the upper spar
sections, well above the water level, can be used as regular
rooms.
The upper and lower joins between the spar and the hulls must
to be able to handle the necessary stresses. One option is
stress risers. More elegant is to have a smooth transition, so
that the spar simply widens and blends into the bottom of the
platform and the top of the flotation hull, like a champagne
glass. { Need Picture }.
The living platform is basically a building sitting on top of
the spar. Since the purpose of the spar is to keep any wave
crest from ever reaching the tower, the construction of the
platform is fairly straightforward. It can be built out of wood
like a house, although in the marine environment the wood needs
to be water-sealed and regularly inspected. We prefer various
forms of concrete, especially the lightweight ones mentioned earlier.
There is not much to say about decks, except the top deck (the
"roof"). Since the easiest way to collect water is to
capture and collect rain, the top level will be plumbed for this
purpose. Things which need sunlight, like solar panels and
greenhouses, will be located here.
An intriguing alternative way to build the top decks is to
hang them from a central mast. Buckminster Fuller pioneered this
design, which was used in his Dymaxion house and other designs.
It requires less materials, since the platform does not have to
be cantilevered or as stiff. And a lighter platform means we
need less ballast and flotation, so its a big win. While this is
worth considering, it may be a bit experimental for early
models.
There are a number of different shapes the platform can take.
its important to consider how they will interact when multiple
steads are joined. The simplest shape is a box where the levels
are all the same:
xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx
xx xx
{CENG: prev par unclosed} However, this results in most of the interior space not
getting any sun. This is especially true when you connect
multiple steads - now only the top deck gets sunlight, because
the exterior windows look right into your neighbors window. One
way to get interior sunlight would be something like:
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx
xx xx
{CENG: prev par unclosed} But this still doesn't help much unless the sun is close to
overhead. The key is to add reflected sunlight through a
wine-glass design like:
xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx
xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx
xx xx
{CENG: prev par unclosed} Not only can light reach all the levels from above, but
sunrise/sunset and light reflected off the water can reach the
levels from below. This remains true even when steads are joined
together. This design is more visually appealing as well. The
area at the center is ideal for communal space. The platform
increases its solar area. A downside is that it may raise the
center of gravity by making the floors at higher levels larger.
However, these effects are small because we're already pretty far
from Cg, so the changes are relatively small.
x x xxx xxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx{CENG: prev par unclosed}
Another option is to use a pyramidal shape, as in Buckminster
Fuller's Triton City design.
The problem is that the inner core of the pyramid is a large area
without sunlight. Also while exterior units get sunlight during
at least half the day, they aren't getting reflected sunlight.
It does keep center of gravity down. This has the disadvantage
of a smaller top deck, which means either less greenhouses and
solar panels, or distributing them among floors, which is a lot
more effort.
We think it desirable to have a mast as part of the design.
After all, its a proven bit of nautical technology. We can put
decorative items such as a flag on there, and a crows nest for a
good view. In the modern age, the crows nest can even have a
webcam to spare us the long climb. This might be an appropriate
place to mount wind generators. And finally, it enables a useful
additional structure:
We can hang a hemispherical skin of transparent plastic from
the mast, covering the seastead's top deck. This has a number of
advantages:
This skin has a lot of sail area but not much strength, which
means that it is vulnerable to high winds. During hurricanes, it
will need to be removed. Also, the skin means that we can't have
a runway or helipad on the top deck. For smaller prototype
seasteads like Baystead, this
is not a problem, as they don't really need such facilities.
However, larger platforms will need some transportation
infrastructure. We can use their size to have both - make part
of the deck a solarium, and put the runway on the uncovered
area.
Larger seasteads will need an STOL runway or a helipad, as
described later under transportation.
Helipads are fairly small, but runways take up a fair bit of
area. Even large structures like Seastead Lite will only be
able to accomodate Short Take-Off and Landing aircraft (STOL).
Not until many spar platforms are connected, with their runways
lined up, or breakwaters are used, will normal aircraft be able
to land onboard.
Because the runway takes up a lot of area, we may wish to use
an elevated runway which is partially transparent to light (ie
made out of a grating). This would let us put crops underneath
it. (Or this might be more complex than its worth.)
All seasteads will probably want to have a floating dock.
This would be loosely connected to the central pillar, but able
to rise with the tides and as the seastead's waterline changes.
A very simple design is simply an annulus around the pillar,
unconnected. During bad storms, the dock could be hoisted all
the way up to the bottom of the main platform to avoid the waves.
Otherwise, the waves will be repeatedly slamming the dock against
the central column. It might be possible to use some sort of
rollers so that the dock could move vertically, but still be
braced against the waves.
Several people with nautical experience have expressed are
serious worries about transferring any substantial cargo from
such a dock. While the seastead will be steady, the dock and
boat will be moving quite a bit in anything but glassy seas.
This makes moving things, even with cranes or hoists, very
difficult. While non-surface transfer via submarines and
helicopters avoids this problem, it is also very expensive.
The best option is probably a small breakwater. It would
protect a small area from waves in a particular direction, might
well be temporary, and only meant to handle smaller waves. In
calm weather, it would be deployed to facilitate cargo transfer.
The rest of the time it would either be submerged or hoisted. A
v-shaped pair of walls extending from the spar should do the
trick, preferably fairly narrow. Cargo should also be packed in
small containers, and off-loaded only in calm conditions. This
issue is a disadvantage to the pillar design, as a full-sized
breakwater would of course create a calm cargo loading area.
The seastead will need some way of getting large objects from
sea-level up to platform level. Some sort of hoist or crane is
probably the way to go. We may want to locate it close to the
center so as to put minimum torsional stress on the structure.
There are a number of things we must take into account as part
of this design and that people wonder about.
The question we are probably asked the most is: will the
platform bob in the waves like a boat? The answer is a clear
"no", although to explain why we'll have to delve into some of
the physics of flotation.
Boats float because their hulls are filled with air. This air
is lighter than the water, so it has buoyancy. As a boat settles
into the water, more and more air is below the waterline, so it
has more and more buoyancy. Eventually the buoyancy is equal to
the weight, and it is stable. This has the nice effect that if
you increase the weight on a boat, it will just drop a little
lower until the extra buoyancy has compensated.
Now consider the effect of waves. When the waves go up, the
water line has gone up, so the boats displacement has increased,
so it has more buoyancy, so it lifts. When the waves go down,
the water line has gone down, so the boat has less float and
drops until things equalize. It is this large difference in
buoyancy caused by a small difference in water level that makes
boats rock up and down so much.
On a seastead, however, things are quite different. Most
of our flotation is submerged way below the surface. So as the
waves bob up and down, the displacement hardly changes:
Boats also move laterally in the waves, for a different
reason. While boats have narrow bows, they have long sides. The
impact of the waves against that large surface transfers energy.
But a seastead only has that central column which presents a
small front in all directions. Thus it gets less lateral forces
than a boat.
There is another matter of physics we have to worry about, and
that is stability, ie whether the seastead floats upright or falls
over. In order to be stable, when there is a shift in weight, a
restoring force needs to act to counterbalance it. When a boat
begins to lean, it dips farther into the water on that side.
This increases the buoyancy on that side, providing a restoring
force. So unless it tips so far that the edge goes underwater,
it will reach an equilibrium. [Fay1991, Chapter 2 - Static
Equilibrium]
Unfortunately, the same submerged flotation that gives
seasteaders a comfortable ride means they lack such a restoring
force from their flotation. If an unballasted seastead began
tilting sideways, it would just fall over. It is naturally
unstable, because the heavy top wants to fall and the light
bottom wants to rise. Here is a brief and approximate
explanation of the physics of seastead stability:
There are two important points, the center of buoyancy
Cb and the center of gravity Cg. The
center of buoyancy, on the left, is the center of mass (basically
the two-dimensional average) of the part of the seastead which
provides buoyancy. This area is shaded, and consists of the
airspace below the water line, both in the spar and in the hull.
The center of gravity, on the right, is the center of mass of the
solid parts of the seastead, such as the greyed-in top platforms,
the structures walls, and the ballast at the bottom. We can
model a floating object as a rod connecting these two points.
The Cg feels the effects of gravity and wants to go
down. The Cb feels the effects of flotation and wants
to go up. Depending on which is higher, you get one of these two
configurations.
Unstable Configuration When Cg is above Cb, the structure is unstable - the top wants to go down and the bottom wants to go up! It will start to flip, and end up lying sideways in the water. |
Stable Configuration When Cb is above Cg, the structure is stable. Any small rotation will be resisted, as the top will try to rise and the bottom will try to fall. |
You can probably see now why we need the ballast. The long spar platform has
substantial mass way up high (the living area) which must be
offset by mass way down low. It is also aided by having a
significant part of its buoyancy be in the spar area, which moves Cb up. The
design must calculate these factors so as to achieve the stable
configuration.
The lower the ballast is located, the more it pulls down the
center of gravity. Currently we have it at the bottom of the
flotation chamber. Another possibility would be to have the
pillar extend farther down, and have a seperate ballast area. {
picture} This would add spar length, but require less ballast to
achieve the same stability. It would also add the worry that a
structural failure between the ballast and flotation would cause
a loss of ballast only, thus making the structure rotate
unpleasantly to the horizontal. (Whereas if ballast and
flotation are lost together, the platform simply drops down onto
the safety hull.)
Another frequent question is how much the seastead will tilt
in strong winds, such as from a hurricane. Despite what most
people think, the answer is "very little". This is
nonintuitive because our intuition is based on boats,
particularly sailboats, which are very light and have a lot of
surface area. Thus they heel over quite easily. But air is
really quite thin, while concrete is quite heavy.
Consider a standard concrete block with one side sealed. Now
visualize it floating in a pool along with a little model
sailboat. Imagine trying to tilt the concrete block by blowing
air on it. Its an almost impossible job, because the thing is so
heavy. The long lever arm of our pillar does give the wind a
mechanical advantage, which may be as high as 5-10 (technically
its the ratio between our righting arm, which is the distance
between the center of gravity and center of buoyancy, and the
winds lever arm, which is the distance from the center of gravity
to the surface it is pushing on, which is the top platform).
However, as the platform tilts, the righting force increases, so
it is unlikely to tilt much. { should we diagram this? } Note
that this slight tilt will only be for an anchored seastead. An
unanchored seastead will simply be pushed.
For those who prefer less technical explanations, the
children's tale aboout the Three Little Pigs tells us all we need
to know. The houses made of straw and sticks were easily blown
down. The house made of brick didn't move. End of story.
Part of the modular nature of this design is that individual
seasteads can be connected to form larger units. If the platform
is made in a hexagon, it can be packed in a nice hexagonal grid.
This has the disadvantage that platforms must be the same size,
since hexagons cannot be subdivided or composed into hexagons (as
reader Otto Drachen pointed out). Squares might be a better
shape from this standpoint. However, with loose enough
attachments, hexagons do tile, as a group of 7 looks much like a
jagged-edge hexagon. A large hexagon can be fit in at the cost
of some triangular gaps.
The interconnections must be somewhat flexible because of the
dynamic forces operating on the seasteads. For example, as waves
pass through, there will be continuous small fluctuations in the
relative buoyancy of platforms. On a longer time scale,
differences in weight onboard may cause platforms to want to rise
or fall relative to each other. Good buoyancy control is very
important because these differences will put great stress on the
joints. A particularly tricky problem is mooring interconnected
platforms, especially in areas with changing tidal currents.
Note that if the spars are small relative to the gaps between
the platforms, our flotation design allows for a clever way of
removing a single platform from a large collection of seasteads.
Disconnect it, then reduce its flotation a little so that the
platform drops beneath the level of the other platforms. Now it
can be towed out between the spars, under the other platforms {
3D animation? }. The extra space between the edges of the
platform and the forest of spars through which it travels is the
same as the distance between adjacent platforms (the size of the
interconnecting joint), minus the radius of the spars. So we'd
best tow slowly. Still, its quite nice for modularity and
dynamic geography for platforms to be able to leave without
needing special gaps in the grid, or for other platforms to move
out of the way.
It seems likely that standard utility interconnects will be
developed to allow infrastructure sharing between platforms. A
benefit of multiple platforms is longer runways, to allow larger,
non-STOL planes to land.