Years ago I bought a Martin Backpacker guitar. To call it a guitar is generous. Like Douglas Adams’ no tea, the Backpacker is something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a guitar. It sounds like the mutant child of a baritone ukulele and a banjo. Playing it is cramped, with a short scale and a narrow neck. Without a truss rod, only extra light strings should be used on it, and even then the action is high enough drive a Miata beneath them.
Mine came with a rectangular gig bag which provides almost no protection. So of course, somewhere on my travels over the years, the top got smooshed in. I sent it to a luthier friend who did some miracle work to fix it. He pointed out replacing the top would be more expensive than the guitar was worth, so he just straightened it out as much as he could and braced it. It looked better and sounded fine, but still had a bit of a sad, crumpled look to it. And as we all know, when playing guitar, looks matter.
This spring I therefore came to the conclusion that I wanted to do something about it. I found I could get a new solid cedar top from Stew Mac for under thirty bucks, and that seemed reasonable. I also purchased some mandolin kerfing to make the thing a bit more robust. It would hardly do to backpack with it if it couldn’t withstand being strapped to my back. After watching a few online videos, as one does, I decided it was within my skill set. How hard could it be?
Turns out, not exceptionally difficult. That’s not to denigrate the skills of a skilled luthier, but this was a Backpacker I was dealing with, not a pre-war D-28 (although it is a pre-Afghan War specimen). The basic steps were to separate the old top, attach a new top, and finish it. All told, a nice weekend project.
Because there is no edge work on the Backpacker, separating the top is a fairly straight forward process. Some heat, applied with a heat gun, softened the glue. I then worked a palette knife or sharpened scraper between the top and the body to separate the pieces. It helped also that there no support bracing or edge kerfing. I worked small sections, and had the two apart in pretty short order. Then I used the same process allowed me to salvage the bracing and bridge from the old top. I didn’t have to be too careful about the old top, since I wasn’t planning on reusing it.
Once that step was done, I cleaned up the body and the salvaged pieces, removing any traces of glue or wood from the top that broke off.
Next, I took the opportunity to beef up the body a bit. I put kerfing around the back and top edges of the body, which would provide a more ample and supportive edge to attach the top and back to the sides of the guitar.
Upon turning my attention to the top, I had a decision to make. I had purchased a low grade cedar guitar top, which came as a pair of book matched pieces. My plan was to use a single piece, which would have been large enough on its own to top the guitar. When the wood arrived, however, I discovered that it had some significant shading variation, and had I used a single side, I would have ended up with a two-tone guitar. Not really what I wanted. To get a single-tone top with this wood, I’d have to join either the light or dark sides together as if I was making a larger guitar. It was an extra step, but upon examination, I discovered the darker portion had some lovely pronounced grain which, would look rather stunning. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. I did a bit of research and came upon a video which described the tent method of joining the pieces of wood. It was simple and required no special jigs, so I thought I’d give it a go.
Turns out it worked very well, and soon had a book matched top for a Backpacker. Fancy!
The next step was joining the new top to the body, which illustrates perfectly one of the real values of professionals: they have the tools to do the job right. In this case, it’s the clamps. I used my assortment of bar and c-clamps to get the job done, but it would have been much easier if I had professional tools at my disposal. In the end, I clamped it well enough, and got the job done. Once the top had set, I routed the rough edges and sanded them flush.
For finishing I decided to just use a hand rubbed and buffed linseed oil finish. Instrument makers prefer a shellac or varnish which doesn’t absorb into (and thus deaden) the sound of the wood. Let’s be honest here, however; shoeboxes are more resonant than Backpacker guitars. A few coats of oil weren’t going to kill the sound. And the result is beautiful to behold. And after restringing and making some bridge adjustments to compensate for a thicker, straighter top, it sounds as good as I remember it. On top of that, I have a deeper connection to this guitar now, and it’s a unique piece.
Now I just need to make a better case. Perhaps something like this.
