Our Cape Dory 27

Photo Gallery - Because I Don't Feel Like Writing

2011-10-07T16:20:00.000-07:00

The guts of the electrical panel.

The panel installed and partially wired.

The Raymarine ST40 Bi-Data instrument display.

Haven't decided exactly how to cover the back of the instruments yet.

Looking aft at the new panels

Now that we have DC power, the lighting is going in. Running lights? Check.

For LED bulbs, the new running lights are pretty bright.

LED cabin lights on either side of the companionway...

Each with the red light option.

Oh happy day. The big heavy box is here!

Isn't she pretty? 14HP Betamarine, 70 Amp alternator, high rise exhaust, multi-groove belt, custom feet. Ahhh.

Long Overdue Update

2011-07-25T13:25:00.000-07:00

With the entire Northwest in the third month of seasonal affected depression, you can understand why I might be lacking motivation to update a blog. I know much of the country is in a heat wave, and I don't want that either, but the rain and gray is starting to get to me, and I grew up here. You can imagine how it is affecting Hayden, a southern California girl used to sunbathing and flip flops.

There is much to update! Just because we haven't been posting here doesn't mean we haven't been working. The big news is that it looks like we are on target for a launch by the end of August. Yep. Our little Cape Dory will be in the water this summer. (Fingers crossed).

This past week was really the first time the progress seemed real to me. We are definitely building up rather than tearing down, and I can list the remaining projects without a spreadsheet.

Our BetaMarine 14 is here, resting at the SeaMarine shop in Port Townsend until we are ready to drop it into its new home behind the companionway stairs. That will be the last thing to happen until we get the boat trucked back to the marina. Then we will focus on the rigging and actually setting the boat up.

But for now, let's take a look at some progress!

Battery Boxes
The battery "box" in the boat when we got her was nothing more than a rotting plywood shelf with two Costco wet-cell batteries sort of wired to the boat. I still can't figure out how he had them wired.

The Battery "Solution" as we Found it.

So I tore that mess out and ground the space down to clean fiberglass. Then it was a matter of building back up. We are running 2 Group 31 AGM batteries for our house bank, which is overkill but will give us weeks of off-the-grid power. A smaller AGM will serve as the starting battery.

The next image is of the marine-grade plywood shelf I built and installed in place of the old box.

The Battery Shelf Tabbed to the Hull and Clear-Coated with Epoxy

You can see one of the logistic problems with the install in this photo: the thru-hull for the cockpit drain is under the edge of the shelf. If I put the support as far inboard as I wanted to, I would have had to move the thru-hull. No thanks. So I offset the shelf support a bit.

Here is the view looking aft from the companionway:

Note the small lip around the outside to keep things from sliding around should the tie-downs fail and the openings forward and aft for drainage should any water get on there. From there I painted the whole thing out with my trusty white BilgeKoat paint. The two battery boxes fit perfectly:

They are parallel wired and sitting on a trickle charger as I write this, waiting for the final wiring to take place.

The Fuel Tank
It may shock to you learn two things. One, the old aluminum fuel tank was leaking and corroded when we bought the boat. And two, finding a direct replacement for it without resorting to expensive custom tanks is pretty much impossible. Here's a glimpse at the old situation:

The Old Fuel Tank

Out of the Boat

The Existing Space

That little nook is a dimension that doesn't exist in modern tank building. For a while, as I searched for a new tank, I had the dimensions memorized. One limitation you can't see here is the same as for the battery shelf: the thru-hull for the cockpit drain limits the fore and aft length of the tank. Behind the bulkhead forward of the tank is the galley, so we can't go that direction either.

I bought a 12 gallon Moeller tank that was pretty close to fitting, but with the existing shelf I just couldn't make it work. So...out comes the Sawzall and the grinder. And the dust mask.

I tore the whole thing out and started from scratch. Again. Here is the new shelf built of 1/4" marine plywood and glassed to the hull.

The New Tank Shelf Tabbed to the Hull

This design created a big dead space under the shelf that is accessible from the engine compartment. Rather than block this off, I decided to make a cupboard for storing engine spares and tools. The access won't be great with the engine in place, but for things I don't need often, it should be a good solution.

Showing the "Dead Space" Beneath the Shelf

With the Facia on and a Cut Out for the Door

For some reason I don't have any photos of the tank in place. But it's there and plumbed to the deck fill and the tank vent with new hose and fittings. The Racor fuel filter will hang on the facia aft of the cupboard door.

Electrical Panels
The old electrical system was a total disaster. From the panel to the wiring, everything was a mess. I tore it all out. New wire, new fixtures, and new panels.

The old panel was on the small bulkhead above the galley:

That had to go. Here is the space after it was gone:

The square cutout to the left is access to the back of the cabin top to fiberglass in the old holes from the instruments. More on that later. The main electrical panel will go on the starboard side of the companionway where there was just an empty bulkhead. On this side, above the galley, we decided to have a small panel with the LPG control and a couple of 12 volt outlets for charging phones and whatever else. It is also accessible from the cockpit, so we could run a spotlight from here as well. Here is the panel I came up with, made of mahogany and marine plywood, stained with Cetol Marine Teak. The blank space above can hold an instrument display or another switch if it becomes necessary. We'll leave it blank for now. The panel will hinge on the left-hand side and latch with a cabinet latch.

On the other side of the companionway will be the main distribution panel. It will have the AC and DC switches, the bilge pump switch, an AC outlet, and a battery meter. Here it is with the AC and DC panels installed. There is enough room on the back side of this for a few bus bars and other wiring niceties.

There are many more projects under way and just about completed, but I think this post is long enough! More soon.

Emerging from Darkness

2011-03-04T11:04:00.000-08:00

Yesterday the manager of The Boat Yard* (otherwise known as Dad) called me to let me know that the tarp on the boat had collapsed under the weight of snow from a recent late season storm. Of course, by the time I arrived at The Boat Yard, the snow storm had ended and a windstorm had taken its place. Wind speeds on the Washington and British Columbia coasts were recorded at hurricane strength during the storm, and in the city winds topped 40 mph. The Boat Yard is located on Hood Canal, and during winter storms, the typical southerly winds hit us head on. Pictures never do storms any justice, but here's one anyway just because I have it.

Stormy Seas @ The Boat Yard

So it happened that I pulled up to the boat and found the structure for the tarp broken and about 200 gallons of water filling it up. The generator was grinding away, so I knew the storm had knocked the power out. Tree limbs were all over the driveway. So I was faced with this project:

Remove the 40x30 foot tarp, de-assemble the boat cover, rebuild the frame for the cover, and replace the tarp. In 50 mph winds.

Add to that the underneath that tarp were several open holes in the boat. The cockpit locker lids had been removed, and much of the teak in the cockpit had been sanded and cleaned, but left exposed. Once I took that tarp off, I was racing the weather, because as soon as the next wave of the storm hit, it was going to be packing some serious rain.

Removing the tarp was the easy part. Controlling it was not. I untied it on the windward side and it was gone. Wrestling it into a manageable package reminded me fairly vividly of all the failed spinnaker take downs we have done on the race boat. Every time I got closed to controlling the damn thing another gust would come and catch it just right. At one point it actually pulled me over when it caught a healthy amount of air.

Next I set to rebuilding the frame. A mishmash of left over lumber, some screws, and a cordless screwdriver and a mere 3 hours later and I had the skeleton rebuild. It's a crappy job, but it really only has to last another month or two. I assume that this weather will end sometime in the spring and we will be able to uncover the boat.

Then dad and I set about re-tarping the thing. I'm surprised neither of us died. The wind rose another 5 mph, of course, as I tried to tie things down before I lost my grip.

It ain't pretty, and as soon as possible I'm going to re-adjust things, but at the very least, we are keeping things dry again.

One trip to The Boat Yard, $25 in ferry fares, zero work done.

The list of work remaining to be done is looooong, but there is hope that we will be in the water by summer. If the credit card holds out, that is.

With spring break and a reprieve from laboring at The Learning Factory, there should be more opportunities to put in some long days at The Boat Yard between now and May. Here's hoping the worst of the violent weather is behind us.

Oh look, it's snowing again. Ugh.

*The Boat Yard, of course, is my dad's driveway...cheapest dry storage around!

The Deep Dark Place

2010-08-25T21:32:00.000-07:00

The bilge on the CD 27 uses up every bit of the boat's four foot draft. Even stretched out as far as I can reach, the bottom of that cavern is unreachable.

This presents a bit of an issue with the bilge pumps.

One: How to install an electric pump when you can't reach the bottom of the bilge to install one.
Two: How to keep the manual pump hose fastened down so it doesn't float when the bilge fills up with water?

I puzzled over this for about a year. Then I remembered the installation I saw on an Island Packet a while back.

So I grabbed some cardboard and starting building some mockups. Fun times.

The idea was to make a rack that all of the bilge apparatus would attached to that could be bolted down or removed from the bilge in one piece.

Here is what I ended up with after some cutting and shaping of some plastic StarBoard lumber.

The Bilge "Rack" Ready to Be Installed

I made a shelf for the electric pump that sits about 2 inches off the bottom of the bilge, which should keep it free of debris and reduce clogging. The strainer for the manual bilge pump is screwed to the bottom of the rack and is meant to sit on the very bottom of the bilge. It has a built-in check valve so water won't backflow into the bilge when the pump stops. I ran the wire in split-loom conduit and attached it to the rack with a cable clamp. The circular cutout is a guide for the manual pump hose.

Using the template the rack was made from, I drilled two holes in the forward part of the bilge and epoxied two short pieces of all-thread into them so the holes at the top of the rack would slide over them.

Looking down at the rack installed. You can see how the hose guide works and also the bolts sticking out waiting for washers and nuts to secure everything in place.

It's a pretty tidy installation, if I do say so myself. If anything goes wrong with either pump, I can unbolt the whole thing and lift it out.

Now that the pumps were both in place, I was able to finally run the hoses up and out of the way in their final position. Here you can see them running up and over the engine compartment. The other hoses you see are the propane hose for the galley stove and a wire conduit for the water pump and port side cabin lights. As soon as I snapped this picture, I realized I should have painted this section of the compartment before installing the hoses. Woops. So I loosened them up and painted everything out before reinstalling them. Nothing like doing a job twice!

The Engine

2010-08-18T18:42:00.001-07:00

This is what will adorn than nice shiny space under the companionway. Betamarine 16. More later...

Diesel Dreams

2010-08-17T21:31:00.000-07:00

I get all choked up when I say this, but next week we will put down the deposit to have our brand new 16 horsepower, two-cylinder diesel engine built for our new old boat. Weep. Sniffle.

It's true. The Diesel Santa is coming to The Boatyard early this year, and he will leave a crate in the garage that has a brand new, custom built, red diesel engine inside of it. Realizing that the best time to do almost anything to a boat is when the engine is out of its little hole under the companionway, I have been frantically sanding, grinding, washing, and painting everything I can get to.

With the engine out, here is what we were faced with:

Gross. I let that sit there for a while and then in one full day push, I started in on the problem.

First, the prop shaft and stuffing box had to go. No small affair. Everything is bonded to everything else and nothing wants to move. I pounded away at that damn thing for the better part of a 90 degree day before finally tasting victory. After 30 years, everything was perfectly happy where it was.

Then I realized that the old battery "box" had to go. By box I mean rotting plywood platform that apparently served to hold a couple of leaky lead-acid batteries down. Here is what became of that:

That's a nice pile of crap ya got there. Thanks.

Once the old plywood was out, I had to take out the fiberglass tabbing that held that POS in place. Bring in the grinder. I love that thing.

But it does make a dusty mess of everything. Including the operator.

After several hours of grinding and sanding, I had an inch of dust on everything and a clogged up shop vac. What to do, what to do...Why not just drown it?

So off to the garden to get the hose. I washed down each cockpit locker and the engine compartment, sending my dust into the bilge, where it made a lovely mud. No worries. A heavy duty sump pump and some dredging work will take care of that.

Once the water had dried (2 minutes in the heat of the day) I gave everything a nice bath in acetone, sanded down a few rough spots, and got out the epoxy paint.

And when I left today, there was a nice bed just waiting for a new motor. Isn't it precious?

Is This Progress I See Before Me?

2010-07-20T18:04:00.000-07:00

Today the offspring and I dropped by to visit the grandparents and check on the boat. Yep. Still there.

When I got out of the car, I was surprised to see Dad pop his head out of the companionway.

"What are you doing, Dad?"

He held up a length of chain and a small come-along winch.

"Figuring out how to get this engine out of here." It was then that I noticed the Hi-Lift parked by the garage. Painters were busily working on the house. "When they go home tonight we can use their lift and yank this thing out of here. If it comes out."

I had long ago unhooked every hose and wire on the engine. I had removed the starter and the fuel filters. It was stripped down as far as it would go. I disconnected the propeller shaft and unbolted the engine mounts. For a couple of months, The Beast - the original Yanmar YSM8 - had been sitting in the engine compartment disconnected from the boat. But would it come out?

What possessed Dad to want it out of there is anyone's guess. But as the kids tore off to the beach to search for treasure (read: shells they could color with permanent markers) I walked up the boat to see that it was pretty much rigged for lifting.

But the lifting would have to wait until the painters called it a day.

In the meantime, I went below and got to work on some other projects. I pulled out the propane hose that needs to be replaced and did a little sanding of the bulkhead. But I was totally unfocused. Then I saw the 100' spool of wire sitting next to the tool kit. I have tried several times to find a good wire run for the cabin lights. But since Cape Dory sandwiched the wiring between two parts of the hull, there is no channel in which to run new wire.

Determined, I grabbed the fish tape and started just jamming it in between the headliner and the hull. Dead end. Dead end. Sliced finger. Dead end. Swear word.

And then? Miraculously that damn fish tape slid from the overhead fixture at the galley right down to where the new panel will be mounted. I have to say I was a bit in shock at my luck, so I left the tape there, sat down, and had a beer. Progress!

After a cold Rainier (PBR wasn't on sale this week), I attached some wire and pulled it back through. Success. One wire run complete from panel to fixture.

The other four main cabin wire runs weren't quite so easy, but with the help of Offspring #1's long arms and skinny fingers, we were able to get wires pulled for 4 cabin lights (which will be one circuit), the fresh water pump, the bilge pump, and the propane fireplace.

Here is said child labeling a wire. The DC panel will go on the bulkhead to the side of the companionway behind her.

By then it was dinner time. And then came the big event.

I carefully drove the Hi-Lift next to the boat and lowered the bucket right over the companionway. Dad hooked up his lifting harness.

I crawled down into the boat and, using the come-along, started lifted the engine an inch at a time to get it free of the boat. It took a little persuading since one of the year engine mounts didn't want to let go, but after a little jostling, the engine broke free and smashed my hand against the fiberglass of the engine compartment. Awesome.

The big question remained. Would the engine fit through the opening under the companionway stairs? It's a safe bet that Cape Dory installed the engine before the deck was even on the boat, so this thing has never been through that opening. I have heard of other owners having to cut away some of the fiberglass to get their engines out.

At first I thought we were screwed. I tried pivoting the engine around the corner like moving a couch through a doorway. No dice. Several other attempts were equally frustrating.

And then I figured it out. By lifting the front of the engine straight up I could work it through the top of the opening. A few clicks on the come-along and there she was. Hanging on a chain, out in the fresh air for the first time in 31 years.

I hopped back on the lift and pulled The Beast free of the boat. Adios.

Dad grabbed a pallet and we set the engine down on the driveway. I have no idea what to do with it next. But driving that Hi-Lift is fun. I could go for more of that.

What a monster this thing is. 31 years of pure neglect.

I mean the engine. Not the girl. She hasn't lived long enough to suffer that much neglect. Yet.

Weirdly, the transmission looks brand new, inside and out. It isn't. But I can't figure out why it looks as good as it does.

So there is the engine.

And here is where it used to live:

Gross. Next step is to clear that space out, replace the thru hulls and seacocks, and paint it all out with a nice epoxy paint. Won't be long and we'll be ready for the new engine. Wherever that might be.

After a satisfying and solid day's work, the kids and I retired to la playa for a sunset fire. As is customary at The Boat Yard.

Thanks Dad.

Measure Twice, Buy Once

2010-06-06T18:20:00.000-07:00

Another update? So soon? Well don't get used to it, because in two weeks we are boarding a plane for Kenya and won't be back anywhere near The Boat Yard until late July.

Which explains why I have been working so furiously over the last two weekends to get some things done. A bonus this weekend: a near 70 degree day that allowed me to open the boat up and dry things out. Ahhhh.

With the fireplace in its home, I decided to finalize all of the plumbing and wiring for the propane system as my first chore for the weekend, starting with the hose for the galley stove. Once I cleaned out the port side lazarette, I wedged myself in there and ran the hose up high against the underside of the deck so it will be out of the way and won't get any abuse when we drag things in and out of that locker. Note to self: make sure you have all of the tools you will need before crawling down there. Getting in and out of that space is not easy. You can't see it in this picture, but I did at least think to tie the lid open so as not to get trapped when a gust of wind slammed it shut.

Here you can see the hose, which I wrapped in some plastic split-tubing for a little extra abrasion resistance. I have miles of that stuff from clearance sale last summer, so I might as well use it. I used the bolts from the hinges on the lazarette to connect the zip ties, saving me the trouble of putting more holes in the deck.

While we're down here, check out that lovely plywood backing block for the winch stand. Awesome. Add replacing those to the list of things to do...

And here is a bonus image. The view from below decks:

The galley supply line fits perfectly, with just a little slack at the propane connection. It's as if I had planned it.

So then I shifted my attention to the starboard side, where the supply line for the fireplace will run. I had already run it through the cabin back to the starboard lazarette. Now all I had to do was finish the run to the propane locker. I gave it the same treatment with the split tubing for chafe protection and attached it to the underside of the deck. Perfect.

Except that it's 2 feet short. Insert string of expletives here. I SWEAR I carefully measured that run before buying the hose. I remember running surveying tape along the proposed path AND adding 3 feet for good luck.

Now I have to go back and undo every hanger along the way (every 12 inches or so) and take the fireplace out in order to disconnect the hose. F Bomb. F Bomb. F Bomb.

Oh, and the longer hose is $100. Do you have any idea how much PBR $100 will buy?

So I abandoned that project for the weekend, started a shopping list for my next trip to Disneyland, I mean Fisheries Supply, and got to work on some other random projects.

Finished painting the forward cabin. It's all sparkly white now and looks fantastic. When the newly finished wood panels are back in place, it will look amazing. I didn't really appreciate how nasty the old finish was until the new paint was on and dry.

Cleaned up the space where the old fuel tank used to live and made measurements and plans for the new tank. We gain 3 gallons of fuel and upgrade from a steel tank to a poly tank, but it will require cutting up this space to make it fit.

Painted out the port lazarette in lovely BilgeCoat White. It looks sharp. Take my word for it.
Then I retired to the beach and treated myself to a little camp fire. Just one of the many perks of The Boat Yard.

We're Still Here. I Promise.

2010-05-29T18:36:00.001-07:00

I thought I'd start us off with an image of actual sailing. Since our boat is still a driveway squatter, I have to hitch rides on other boats. This was taken during the 65 mile "Round Whidbey" race on Dent-de-Lion, a Morgan 30 I sometimes "race" on. Sigh. Beautiful, no? We were even in first place when I took this shot.

Anyway, back to reality...

You know you have neglected your blog space when you get a notice that it is about to be terminated due to lack of activity. After going through Blogger’s amazingly complicated system for re-establishing my account, I am proudly back up and running.

You would think that with 7 months between posts there would be a lot to catch up on. Maybe you are expecting to see that our little boat has emerged from the gray blanket of the Northwest winter ready to hit the Puget Sound and carry us to far away destinations. Nope. Not quite.

She still sits on the stands at the Boat Yard, enjoying her view of the water she will one day sail. And, despite a rather hit-or-miss work schedule over the winter, some progress has been made.

ENGINE REMOVAL

One rather anticlimactic job was to disconnect and dismantle the existing engine. The old Yanmar will have to find love somewhere else, ‘cause it can’t live in our bilge anymore. Sadly, there is no replacement option immediately available.

Still, I figure we need to take the engine out one way or another, so on a particularly dark, wet weekend I dismantled the ancillary parts and disconnected the engine from its fuel system, electrical harness, and from the boat itself. And there it sits: completely disconnected and ready to lift out. We are waiting for the weekend when we rent a lift to wash the w

inter moss off the roof of the house to lift the engine with it. Two birds. One stone. etc.

The fuel tank is out, the hoses are out. We’re ready to move on!

Having that engine out will free up a lot of space to facilitate running wire and plumbing, as well as installing the dripless shaft seal and basically cleaning up the lockers and engine room. I’m looking forward to seeing that space cleaned and painted, actually.

Maybe by the time we get done with that the new engine will magically appear on a pallet next to the boat. Maybe. So far Santa has cast a deaf ear to those thoughts.

ELECTRICAL REMOVAL

Every wire that isn’t permanently glued to the hull (grrrrrr) has been pulled out. Every wire that can’t be removed has been cut as far back as possible. We’re going all new on this one. Old light fixtures are gone. The old electrical panel is gone. Batteries are gone. Rebuilding this ought to be an adventure.

WOOD WORK

All of the wood parts that could easily been removed have been relocated to the garage at The Shack, where we spend most of our time. This way even when we aren’t able to get to the Boatyard, we can be making progress on the boat.

All of the wood is solid and in great shape. We are sanding it down to remove any water stains or other blemishes and refinishing it with three coats of Cetol Marine “Natural Teak.” It really looks excellent on the doors, drawers, and panels. Only the bulkheads and some of the built-in furniture will need to be refinished while on the boat.

FRESH WATER

The existing set up required hauling a hose down below, lifting up the v-berth cushions, and opening the tank to fill it up. What a drag! I'd rather cut a hole in the boat and run some hose.

So I added a fresh water fill on the starboard side. The fill hose is hidden in the closet in the head compartment and runs forward under the bunk boards in the v-berth.

This is a much more elegant solution than dragging hoses around down below at every marina we visit, no? And the bonus with this job is that I not only got to slice my finger open on jagged fiberglass, I also got see first hand just how damn thick the deck of this boat is. Holy crap. They just don't make hole saws tough enough for this work. Let's see, 1/4" of fiberglass at the deck, 1/2" of balsa core, another 3/8" of glass, some foam filler, and 1/8" of fiberglass in the headliner. The hole saw bottomed out before it cut all the way through this stuff.

HEAT

Because I can't get enough with the hole saws, I had to seek out a project that would let me make use of the 3". I knew I'd need it eventually!

The latest project got a little fast-forwarded when a Dickinson P9000 propane fireplace came available on Craigslist recently at a steal of a price. And it happened to be for sale just miles from my Dad’s house. Hey Dad, want to do me yet another favor? Thanks.

So a half-price fireplace spurred me on to get some heat installed this weekend. Just in time for summer.

Since it is used, I had to fire it up to make sure it worked.

Yep. She works!

Next it was time to create the space for our new best friend (it gets really cold at night around here!) to live. We long ago decided that the bookshelf nook on the starboard side was the logical location. A little deconstruction, reconstruction, and refinishing, and I had this. (By "a little" I mean 8 hours. These jobs take forever...)

The vertical piece is one of the original shelves, re-tasked and trimmed with an edge piece from the torn out galley. The hole at the bottom right is for the electrical and propane connections. I lined it with a piece of left-over sanitation hose, glued in place. Pretty slick.

I cut a three inch hole in the top of the nook for the chimney stack. This protrudes through the shelf in the head compartment closet, but is nicely concealed from the cabin of the boat. Maybe some of that residual heat from the stack will throw a little warmth into the v-berth. Yeah, right.

While I had the hole saw warmed up, I went ahead and cut the hole in the cabin top as well.

Truth be told, I drilled this hole twice. The first cut revealed a cavernous nightmare of broken foam between the deck and the cabin liner. A look at the plug that I cut out will tell you what I mean:
Nice, eh? Off to Dad's garage I went to get some "Great Stuff" foam (the stuff you can buy in a spray can at Home Depot). It's sole purpose is to fill in the voids between the deck and the cabin liner and to make the hole through the deck uniform. I taped off the bottom side of the hole and filled her right up with the foam. Thanks Dad.

After 12 hours, a few cold beers, and some sleep, I re-cut the hole. Much better. I'll seal off the core with epoxy before the stack goes in. Later.

I sanded and refinished the nook for the fireplace before all of this took place, by the way, so that by morning it was dry. I can still touch it up later, but I knew once the fireplace was installed it would be a pain to get a paintbrush in there.

Here is the fireplace in its new home:

I apologize for the low quality images. They're from my phone. Seems I forgot the camera at home. Still, you can see the finished wood in the nook compared to the unfinished wood everywhere else. I can't wait to get it all detailed out. It's going to look great.

The propane hose runs down under the settee and to the aft lazarette. I decided to run the hose up high in the locker to keep it from getting beaten up by anything we might put in there. All holes through bulkheads are lined with the same sanitation hose solution as in the nook itself. Pretty tidy installation, Greg. Thanks, Greg. You're welcome.

Moving Liquids

2009-11-04T13:20:00.000-08:00

The rebuilding of the plumbing system has officially begun. No small task, but at least all of the jobs involved are fairly straightforward and manageable without a crew of seven hearty adults.

Last week I managed to make some good progress on the rebuild of the waste system. When we got the boat, it was plumbed with the toilet connected to the holding tank and an overboard discharge. Totally illegal, and also not practical. The new system, in addition to having more options for, well, "waste-management" will have a new toilet that actually works and hose that was meant for sanitation systems (odor-resistant...very important).

Step One: Rip Out the Old Sh*%
This is a disgusting job now matter how careful you are. The holding tank was partially filled with seawater and some of that awful blue holding tank deodorizer (which doesn't work, by the way). The hoses were caked with what I can only assume was waste that didn't make it all the way to the tank, and the toilet was just plain nasty. I saved the toilet in case anyone wants it. Errr.

Here is a look at the old tank and hose setup before I started destroying things and swearing at inanimate objects:

With the tank removed from underneath the port settee, here is what we were left with. Notice the lovely (completely seized) seacock and the nasty waste hoses.Getting the through hull and seacock out of the boat was an adventure of two full days. I finally ended up grinding the flange off the outside and cutting the rest apart to get the thing out. Solid bronze, seized up with corrosion, and bonded to the hull? Bring in the power tools!

I did manage to get the beast out of there. I am keeping it on the workbench to remind me why I am not replacing any seacocks with bronze. This picture shows the hole left after the seacock came out, including the remnants of the old plywood backing plate.

Step Two: Install the New Stuff
With the seacock and the hoses out, it was time to get the hull ready for the new fittings. The flange for the new Marelon seacock was wider than the old bronze fitting, so the backing plate had to be larger. I started by cutting the hole in the hull liner to 6.5 inches in diameter and cleaning up the inside of the hull to get ready for a new backing plate, which I made out of marine plywood sealed with epoxy.

This image shows the cutout waiting for the backing block.
And this image shows the backing block in place (notice that I also painted out the locker with white Bilge Coat paint):

Since I am putting flush-mount through hulls in (why not?), I had to prepare the outer hull for the recessed flanges. This is not easy without some sort of magic tool that apparently exists but no one has.

Several hours with a Dremel grinder got me an acceptable result:

With the backing block shaped to fit the inside of the hull (several passes on the belt sander) and epoxied in place, it was time to start putting the pieces together.

First step, get the through hull fitting in place, along with the recessed bolts that will hold the seacock in place. You can see that my work on the cutout is less than perfect, but sealed well with the 3M product of choice and fared in when we get ready to paint, and this will be just fine, he says.

And here is the view from the inside. Very nice. No corrosion potential, easy to maintain, and unlikely to seize in place. I aligned the handle to run athwartships just so it would be easier to get to and open or close. The hoses will run to either side of the seacock.

This is a look at the small 3/4" seacock for the raw water intake on the head. This one isn't hidden in a locker so I made the backing block out of a piece of teak I had left over from a job on the old boat.

The toilet is bolted in and ready for the hose installation. We will be rebuilding the cabinetry in the head to actually have some storage. More on that soon.

And that's where we stand for now. I have the hose for the remainder of the install work, and the holding tank has been sanitized and cleaned. Before I reinstall the holding tank and strap it in place, I need to run a few hoses and wires for the freshwater system and some other things, but once I do that, we can button this project up and move on!

Candy Store

2009-10-21T07:44:00.000-07:00

It's an exciting week for me. With a full workday planned at The Boat Yard on Friday, I need to pick up some supplies. And that means I get to go to Fisheries Supply. How much do I love this place? Two floors of everything you could ever want for a boat. All the coolest sailing gear, hardware, electronics, and just all around boating stuff there is. If you are a boat nerd, Fisheries is your Candy Store. One expensive candy store. It's a stroke of luck that there isn't much room on the old Visa card these days...

But even better than the store is the Fisheries Supply Catalog. For those of you who aren't in Seattle and can't make it to the retail store, the catalog is a pretty good substitute. Everything about both the store and the catalog puts Worst Marine, Defender, and the rest to shame. Do yourself a favor and order up a copy. Pretty soon you'll be doing projects on your boat just so you can order stuff. I feel like Navin R. Johnson every time the new catalog arrives on the step (it's too big to fit in the mailbox): "The new phonebooks are here! The new phonebooks are here!"

But I'm getting off track here...and now I have the urge to go order The Jerk on pay-per-view.

Anyway, I just placed a will-call order for some thru-hulls, seacocks, and other plumbing parts to get the sanitation system back in place. We're going from bronze to Marelon thru-hulls (I've not found a single good reason to keep metal thru-hulls. Anyone?) and running the pipe in a little more logical manner. We're also redesigning the system to have a pump overboard or pump out option. We call it the Northwest Package: in Puget Sound you can't even spit overboard anymore, but cross the imaginary line in the middle of the Straits of Juan de Fuca into Canada and shit directly into the ocean. It's a strange world we live in. On one side of that purple dotted line, you have to have your overboard discharge locked closed. On the other? Flush away.

The plan is pretty simple, and so far I've rounded up all of the parts except the manual pump for the overboard discharge. No one seems to have the one we need in stock, so I'll just have to leave room for it in the layout and keep searching. Which reminds me:

This weekend I also need to go see Previous Boat Owner, who called last week to remind me that he still has an outboard engine and "some other stuff that goes with the boat" at his house in Port Townsend. Seems that so long as I am in Port Townsend it would be a shame not to browse through the boatyard. The consignment shop there is one of my favorite haunts, and the shops up there actually carry the stuff people need for their boats, not just drink cozies and "Life's Good" t-shirts (I'm looking at you, Worst Marine). Who knows what I'll find when I'm there! Something I have to have, no doubt.

I will take some award-winning pictures of the progress this weekend. I'm sure this will be the time nothing at all goes wrong with a boat project. Right?

Power

2009-10-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

I have never been a mechanical sorta guy. I wasn't into cars when I was little, and engines never interested me. So when I first owned a boat in my past life, the powerplant was just a mysterious gray monster that lived under the companionway stairs. It started and it ran, and the surveyor said it was in good shape, so I was happy.

And then on a early trip, the kind little Yanmar 2GM caught a case of engine runaway and almost took the boat to the bottom of the Puget Sound with it. Scary stuff, that. I got lucky, and the runaway stopped itself after a few minutes and before the engine completely seized, but it was never the same after that. Or maybe it was that I was never the same again. Something like that.

From that day on I was always pretty sure I could hear the engine sputtering or laboring. I always had a little tick of nerves that she was going to go south on me. She never did, and was still running great when we sold her years later, but the damage had been done to my psyche.

So here we are with our new-old boat, getting ready to find a way to get a new engine in there, and I have admit that I'm pretty damn excited about it. The idea of starting completely fresh is making me into a bit of a mechanical geek: reading manuals, learning about reduction gears, calculating torque ratios, sketching installation plans. Even the simple idea of a perfectly clean and organized engine space is motivating enough to make me want to rip the old Yanmar out and get started.

And I think we might have settled on our engine:

Isn't she adorable? This is the Betamarine 14. A 13.5 horsepower 2-cylinder marinized Kubota engine. I spoke with the local dealer this morning about our project and I have to say I have a lot of confidence in them. The engine would come with mounts to match the current installation, all wiring, the control, and all the support I need from the yard. They will customize it with specific options for our needs (bigger alternator, hot water heater hook ups, etc) and from actual order to a pallet in our garage is one week.

The ONLY problem is that the base cost is 6 full Boat Units. For the price of this engine we could get:

500 cases of Red Hook ESB
3,000 nonfat lattes at Jason's Java
3 full sets of new sails
2 rebuilt Yanmar 2GM engines
1 used Cape Dory 25
2 used Santana 22s
1/2 of a BMW F800GS
Out of debt.

But nothing beats a reliable, powerful, easy to maintain diesel engine when you are cruising in the Northwest, where 5 knot surface currents are not uncommon and the wind is ALWAYS on the nose when you are trying to push through Deception Pass.

So now we're actively entering into the fundraising portion of this program. I might have to start drinking cheap beer again to make this one work...

-g

Things That Are Driving Me Crazy

2009-09-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

In lieu of an actual, complete update on our progress, I thought I'd post a list of some of the things about this boat that are driving me completely mad. In no particular order:

The factory wiring. I can't go back in time to watch them build our little boat, but it is becoming apparent that they did a lot of the work before the boat was put together. The wiring for the cabin lights for example, was obviously run along the top of the cabin liner BEFORE it was put in the boat and BEFORE the top half of the hull was put on. The result? The wires are trapped between two layers of fiberglass, with no way to get them out without cutting the hell out of the boat. Awesome? Or super-fantastic? You decide. On top of that, the "electrician" who wired our boat used duct tape to bundle the wires and to hold them in place behind fixtures. So that's great. The result is that any wires I can't pull through are just being cut back to the surface and left there. I have to figure out how to run new wires in a better fashion.
The bonding system. A random combination of solid wire and twisted copper wire zig zagging around the hull, connecting every piece of metal to be found? That's super fun! Getting it out? Next to impossible.
Cheap refit jobs. The previous owner was a sweet old guy, but from what I can tell, he didn't know a damn thing about boats. There are more mild steel screws and weird clamps and hooks on this boat than I can count. And I keep finding more everywhere I look. Like the little cup hook on the INSIDE of the starboard locker, which I found today by dragging my wrist across its nice, sharp tip. What the hell is that doing in there?
The Yanmar. The Yanmar Santa hasn't delivered a new engine yet, but no matter, because the old beast is still sitting there, mocking me. Today I started imagining how to get it out of the there, and I don't think I can do it. I don't see how it will fit through the opening it is supposed to fit through. Again, I have a strong suspicion that they installed that little sucker BEFORE they put the boat together. I see some serious destruction of the cabin in our future.
Propane parts. Why are these so hard to find? And why does no one know anything about where to find parts? And why do they sell propane lockers with hose seals that hoses don't fit through? And why don't they make a 90 degree 3/8" flare to 3/8 female fitting? And why is it that even though they don't recommend solid copper tubing for use on boats, all of the books explaining onboard propane systems show them made with solid copper?

Galley Progress

2009-09-07T19:12:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos of the just-about-completed galley. First, the section roughed in with the fiddle rails in place and the propane burner installed:

Next, a little detail photo showing the drawer system and storage bin:

And finally, my Dad's latest creation. The storage system that completes the look. The top is white Formica and the wood is marine-grade birch plywood with mahogany for the details and fiddles. Once we stain the plywood and put the cabinet hardware on, it will match the rest of the interior wood (all of which is getting stripped and refinished, so matching should be pretty easy:

Just a Quick Update

2009-08-27T08:40:00.000-07:00

The Yanmar Santa hasn't magically delivered and installed a new engine yet (what gives, Santa?), so we are moving ahead with other projects. Actually, I should say that Dad is moving ahead with other projects, because the Admiral and I have been traveling so much this summer that we haven't been able to devote as much time to the boat as we should.

But I found a few minutes to get over to the Boat Yard this week to check things out and get a little bit of work done. I arrived to find that the empty white space where there was once a badly designed galley has already gone from this:

To this:
It really is amazing! Dad has outdone himself here. You can see that the propane hose is run, and the power is also roughed in for the electronic igniter on the stove, which is a single burner built-in model. Here are a couple other shots of the galley construction.

This shows the drawer detail:

Check out all the added storage! Before there was almost no storage to be found, but with Dad's design we have two good sized drawers and a lot of dry storage for food and the like.

This next picture shows the view from forward:

We have sacrificed the port-side single berth in favor of a more functional galley, and in the process gained two huge storage spaces. A swing down cupboard door will give us access to the space you see here, and access to the space beneath that will be from the side through another swing down door.

Giving up the berth on that side of the boat was a hard choice because we didn't want to make too many big changes to the boat's layout. She is a classic, after all. But we still have the starboard side settee as a good sea berth and the four-foot wide settee we are left with on the port side will be a great spot to sit and read, play games, and eat. The increased galley space and storage make it all worth it.

Next up? It's time to start wiring. We know where the panels are going to go, but need to sit down and really plan out the AC system and the rest of the DC wiring. All of the old fixtures are coming out and all of the old wire is going in the trash with them.

Given my experience with our last boat's wiring scheme, I really want to take the time to do this part of the refit correctly. But that ain't gonna be cheap.

Also, we're still waiting for that Yanmar to magically appear.

-g

Some Photos to Back Up the Words

2009-08-06T09:52:00.001-07:00

Here are some quick photos that can serve as proof of Hayden's narrative claims of actual progress on the boat.

Tearing Out the V-Berth

BEFORE Hayden's Epic Adventure: AFTER (Not pictured, Hayden's Chemical High):
Looks pretty good, eh? And for the record, those splotches that remain are original (messy resin work by the boat builders.) That ain't coming off.

The Galley

BEFORE Destruction:

AFTER destruction (but clearly BEFORE cleaning):
Dad is on the job of designing the new space, and has been green-lighted to have at it. Can't wait to see how it comes together!

A Proper Propane Place

Aft Lazarette (future propane locker) BEFORE:

Aft Lazarette DURING (patched, sanded, cleaned, and painted):

Aft Lazarette Becoming Closer to Useful (I know those slats don't look straight in the photo, but trust me, they are):

Aft Lazarette Acting Like a Proper Propane Locker:

The V-Berth, Power Tools and Nasty Habits

2009-08-05T15:10:00.000-07:00

Since Cap'n Ron, given this post's title, is likely to misunderstand me... let me explain.

First, you should know that apart from harvesting the garden and the sea for our daily edibles, my primary job this week has been to transform the v-berth into a stripped-down, gleaming cave awaiting its extreme make-over. You should also know that the v-berth as we inherited it was a filthy, toxic mess! Even without the water tank, Perry Como and Jack Daniels, the v-berth offered up such delectables as sawdust, mold, insect carcasses and generally unidentifiable odors. All that and no air circulation? Perfect!

Since I managed to escape my v-berth time last week by declaring that the record heat wave made it positively dangerous to trap myself there, and since Greg had already made the Home Depot trip to buy me my very own dainty Ryobi mini-drill, I knew I had no choice but to dive in.

I dismantled the decorative wooden slats lining the hull, and I even managed to label each one for ease of reconstruction later. P = port. S = starboard. And the slats are numbered from 1 to 15. The thing is, I discovered that there's one more slat above what I called 1. Oops. I guess we start counting from zero from now on. Slats are now successfully off loaded and bundled in the garage... sanding and refinishing to come.

The only truly disturbing part of this slat-removal process was what I discovered later in the evening as I felt the uncontrollable urge to pick my nose (see? that's the "nasty habits" part). Last month, when we were in the toxic choke of Nairobi traffic, I experienced the same phenomenon: the nagging, itchy black crust that my mucus membranes had become. I'm sure my lungs are fine, though. Right?

Anyway, the interior of the v-berth has been vacuumed and scrubbed and scrubbed again... and is now as gleaming as it's going to get. Not as blemish-free as it was on its virgin cruise, but definitely better than anything it's been in recent decades. If I do say so myself.

It's not as good as installing a propane locker, I realize. But we all work with our own skill sets.
For what it's worth, I can also throw together a fantastic crab salad.
-H

Perry Como, Jack Daniels, and Power Tools

2009-07-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

Power Tools
One of the "problems" with well-built boats is that they aren't meant to be taken apart. The upside is that they probably won't break up and sink in a storm at sea. The downside is that when you do want to remove something, the job can be rather epic in scope.

If the previous owner of said old boat was neglectful (or worse, a little kooky) any repair or removal job will climb the scales in difficulty.

Take the thru-hulls and seacocks on our lovely old boat. This week I started getting ready for our little galley remodel by stripping down the port side of the cabin interior. I removed the holding tank (everyone's favorite job...in this case made even better by the fact that the only thing the previous owner apparently put in the tank was that blue chemical concoction that is supposed to make things smell "better"), I removed some of the wood, and pulled some of the wire and hoses that ran through the locker. So then I was left with this:

That seacock is looking pretty good, no? Big surprise that it was permanently corroded in the closed position. The hose was completely clogged and the handle had obviously not been exercised in a decade. No matter, all of the seacocks and thru-hulls are being replaced anyway.

So now I just had to pull the thing out. Once I confirmed that the flange wasn't bolted to anything, I grabbed the trusty pipe wrench and gave it a few (million) tugs. I pounded on it with the hammer. I torqued it. I hammered it more. Nothing.

It's then that I notice the seacock is not only threaded onto the thru-hull like normal, it is EPOXIED to the hull. Epoxy. Not sealant. Not glue. Epoxy. Are you kidding me with this?

There is no way it is coming out. Ideas anyone?

Calling Dennis confirmed my idea: figure out how to cut the damn thing out of there.

Bring in the 4" angle grinder! I decided to grind the flange off the outside of the thru-hull in hopes that I could pull the whole apparatus through the inside of the boat.

(insert grinding sound and flying metal shavings here)

No dice.

Bring in the Sawzall. I love the Sawzall, if only because that is really what it is called. I cut through the inside of the thru-hull until it was in quarters, pried it out with a screwdriver, and there you have it: after 5 hours of heavy labor, we have removed ONE of the thru-hulls from the boat.

At least now I know what I'm up against. I hope to pull the rest of them this week and order the Maleron replacements soon...This is why you don't want to pay boat yard prices for labor, by the way. 5 hours at $45 an hour? Plus one saw blade and one grinding disc? Plus one dust mask? It adds up. All this job cost me was a little bit of skin (though the next job would cost me a toenail...)

The Cape Dory Time Capsule
I knew that when Hayden got here she would want to do some work on the interior wood work, so I decided to take a break from my destruction of the underwater metals and do some prep for her. I pulled the bunk top boards out of the v-berth, exposing the water tank and its plumbing. Then I figure, what the hell? We have to clean and inspect it anyway, let's take it out and do it on the ground!

Piece of cake. Easiest job yet. The tank lifts out (note to self, build straps to hold the tank in place when we put it back). I set in on the driveway and rinse it out.

This is when the tank decides to attack me. As it filled with water, it rolled onto one of its sides right onto my flip-flop protected big toe. Instant purple toenail. Awesome. The good news is I am only supposed to run a HALF marathon this weekend, not a full 26.2. Crap.

Anyway, back to the boat. I have no doubt that the bunk top boards have not been removed since the boat was built. So the mess underneath them is pretty epic. Dust, dirt, grime, mold, pennies, paper clips. Perry Como and Jack Daniels.

Yep. There under the water tank was a mint condition Perry Como 8-Track tape and an unopened airline-sized bottle of Jack Daniels. Jackpot. I can't help but imagine the tee-totalling former owner of the boat sneaking mini-liquor bottles onboard when his wife isn't looking, getting a good buzz on and grooving to some Perry Como. Sweet.

Next Up
As I post this I am heading back out into the heat (record heat here in Seattle this week, with temps climbing above 100 degrees for the first time in history) to get back to work on those thru-hulls. First the head has to come out. Which, after the holding tank, is everyone's favorite job.

Let's Get Something Done

2009-07-24T08:15:00.000-07:00

Your heroes have been on something of an extended vacation that definitely did not include sailing or sailing related activities (unless you consider taking pictures of the dhows in Lamu a sailing-related activity...
Or unless you consider the kids swarming all over the inflatable kayak at the lake a sailing-related activity...
But now we're planning to be home for a week or so before heading out for another round of land-locked vacationing, so we want to get some work done on The Project while we can. Since it doesn't look like the Yanmar Fairy is going to deliver a new 2-cylinder diesel engine any time soon, we're thinking of starting with two pretty major upgrade projects: electrical and propane.

The propane system will be a simple one:

New propane stove in the galley (final selection not yet made, but we're leaning toward a single-burner drop in model after debating the merits of a double-burner gimbaled version)
Propane fireplace in the cabin (in the nook where the standard bookshelves were)
New propane locker and 1-gallon tank in the aft lazarette (we're getting a pre-built model with the solenoid and everything already done
Gas sniffer and control panel

The electrical system will be a little more complex since we are adding an AC circuit and battery charger where there wasn't one before, but for now we need to get the new panels so that we can start wiring things like the propane switch and the fireplace blower.

At the same time we will start pulling all of the interior wood and refinishing it in the garage before reinstalling it.

And scouring Craigslist for a new engine. Anyone have a good lead on a new Yanmar?

So that's where we'll be next week. Updates to come.

Wasps, Brothers, and Gas

2009-06-16T19:45:00.001-07:00

My older and decidedly less attractive brother is in town from New Zealand for a few days on his way to a meeting of important academic people (contradiction in terms, I know). As Hayden and I are busily preparing to fly off to Kenya for a few weeks (see our infantile blog on the trip here: http://haydenandgreginkenya.blogspot.com/) we don't really have much time to get anything done on the boat until later this summer.

Still, since Older Brother is only on the right side of the planet 3 or 4 times a year, I thought it might be important to at least lay eyes on him. So I saddled up the motorcycle and went over to the boat yard for the day.

The newly remodeled Hood Canal Bridge is spiffy. There are actual shoulders now (which means my running routes while visiting the boat yard have expanded considerably) and the lanes are actually straight. Nice work there.

The boat is right where we left it, and the stairway Dad built is doing its job nicely.

Little known fact: the lower stairs are removable to make it easier to get in and out of the garage. Nice touch. Sheesh.

The wasps are back. I participated in some chemical warfare, but this is clearly not a short-term battle. They love the dorade vent and a few casualties ain't going to stop them. There will be some injuries on our side before this war is decided, I'm pretty sure.

I did some measuring and estimating today, and I think the propane/electrical system is the first project to tackle. We plan to put a propane locker in the lazarette aft of the cockpit and run hose to the yet-to-be-acquired propane fireplace and 2 burner stove.

I think we can wait until we get back from Africa to make any purchases for this project, but it's good to know what to start working on.

More when we get back.

Make sure to follow us on our Africa adventure! http://haydenandgreginkenya.blogspot.com/

-g

Decisions, Decisions

2009-06-08T19:50:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was this boat. It was a well-found boat with nice lines and a seaworthy shape. She was solidly built and had a lot of potential.

Along came her new owners. They were an ambitious young couple with dreams of long summer nights at anchor in the San Juan islands and relaxing evenings sailing on the lake near their house.

But the ambitious young owners needed to get the boat back into sailing condition, and she was in desperate need of a remodel.

The ambitious young owners looked around and waited for a reality-based television crew from "Pimp My Boat" to show up, but that never happened. So they were faced with the prospect of refitting their princess on their own, with their own labor and their own hard-earned dollars.

Sigh.

With so much to do, where to start? What is the first project our heroes should undertake? The most satisfying jobs are best saved for last. Painting, staining, and sanding should be reserved for the months AFTER the mechanical destruction takes place. Our heroes needed a project that would be satisfying and reasonable. Something that would require a commitment and a plan, but that would yield tangible results in a short time span. It also needed to be affordable, as the boat coffers have not yet been magically filled by the Boat Dollar Fairies..

Electrical. That seems reasonable. Add some batteries, run some wire...

Propane. Sure. Build the system, buy the new appliances...

Carpentry. Before we know where to run the wire and hose, maybe we should make sure the galley is configured how we like it?

Where to start? Help free our heroes from their impasse!

My Dad Doesn't Mess Around

2009-05-31T20:32:00.001-07:00

When it comes to designing and building stuff, Dad is the guy to call. After at least 5 minutes of figuring in his head and dictating a materials list, he managed to create this to replace the rickety ladders we were using to get on and off the boat:

My first thought is "Thanks Dad!" but then I think, "Hey, that's a pretty permanent structure you got there. You don't have a lot of faith in the 'short timeline' version of this refit project, do you?"

Still...WAY better than defying death on ladders. This will make driveway sailing with Pabst Blue Ribbon a far easier chore.

-g

To Do: Everything

2009-05-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

So far we have:

Purchased the boat. Check.
Moved the boat. Check.
Emptied the boat of the previous owner's crap. Check.

The truth is, I'm not much of a list maker. And when I do make lists I'm not great at sticking to them, which makes grocery shopping an adventure and large projects a bit of a Charlie Foxtrot situation.

That fact is going to make getting started on this boat refit a serious challenge.

Last weekend, while we chemically fought the wasp invasion, I started cataloging the various projects that were coming our way.

New Galley Design. We're planning to replace the existing alcohol stove with a gimbled propane version, which will require extending the countertop on the port side, and which will lead to...
New Port Side Settee. The existing settee/single berth will get resized into a generous single seat to accommodate the remodeled galley, which will mean...
New Dining Table. The existing table will need to be resized and redesigned to fit the new galley and seating arrangement.
Propane System. There isn't one now. But there will be, in part to run a new propane heater.
Fresh Water System. The existing hand pump will be supplemented with a pressure pump, accumulation tank, and water heater. A hot water shower in the cockpit is on the "maybe" list.
New Electrical System. What is there is a joke. A couple of auto batteries and some lamp wire. The plan is to rip the whole damn thing out and start from scratch. AC shorepower, charger, batteries, wiring, panels, LED lighting all around. This is going to be the second biggest job.
New through-hulls and hoses. Not a small job. So far I don't see any reason to not go to Marelon for these. Why have underwater metal if you don't need it?
New prop.
New cutlass bearing.
New dripless shaft seal.
Rigging? Furler?
Engine? What the hell to do about the engine? Replacing it would be ideal, but pricey. It does run...maybe we just clean it up and replace it in a couple of seasons? I'd rather do the whole thing now while we have it out of the water and are doing all the plumbing and wiring projects anyway...Anyone have a nice Yanmar 2GM they want to donate?

What we need to do is find something small to add to this list so we can get it done and check it off. Success. So let's add this:

Kill wasp nest. CHECK.

On Wasp Queens, 1970s Pharmaceuticals and Structural Moss

2009-05-26T07:55:00.000-07:00

Hayden here...

I didn’t learn much about boating yesterday, despite spending several hours in and on an actual boat. I guess you could say that I’m far enough along in Cape Dory 101 to follow simple instructions like “put the FENDERS in the LAZARETTE,” but the mechanical and nautical terms still often escape me. Further, I’m simply not genetically programmed to be passionate about “torque.” But I’m trying.

Here’s how I earned my keep:

1. I successfully identified our new boat as a condominium development for the area’s wasp population. Not WASPs, mind you—those I understand. I’m talking about the insects. They love our boat, and their queen established herself in one of the STARBOARD (we’re nautical now, baby) storage areas. Thanks to a spray that apparently short-circuits wasp brainstems, I think we’ve rid ourselves of that particular queen and her colony.

2. I also rid the interior of a collection of cobwebs and detritus by commandeering a rag and a bucket full of boat soap from the V-BERTH to the GALLEY. Among the treasures I found in my cleansing pursuits? A container of mysterious white capsules, each with the imprint P42. These are clearly not Tylenol, but I fear that we’ll know neither the original prescription nor the current street value of said 1970s pharmaceuticals, since the whole batch wound up in one of the bags destined for Archie’s next dump-run.

3. In the process of unburdening the LIFE LINE of the eyesore that was its safety netting, I encountered organic material that appeared to be more structurally valuable to the boat than the mottled and decomposing epoxy that the manual claims keeps the whole thing afloat. GVB’s subsequent pressure-washing of the DECK (does it still count as “swabbing” when the mechanical advantage is so overwhelming??) revealed that the moss and decay had made its stand even in areas invisible to the naked eye… Now that it’s all washed away, I hope the HULL is intact when we make it back for our next visit!

A side note: In boat renovation, ladders are great, but stairs are better. The materials list for the spiral staircase has been generated, and the stairs themselves will probably miraculously appear by summer.

Step Two: Get Her Home.

2009-05-17T16:30:00.000-07:00

Here's where she is now. Not a bad spot. She even has a view of the water she will sail in someday.

Getting her there was something of an adventure. Come along...I used my year's allotment of F-Bombs on this one.

Buying a boat is one thing. Write a few checks, sign some paperwork. Getting that boat from the marina slip it has been sitting in for five years to a driveway 30 miles away is another issue.

I'll just go ahead and start with the obvious thesis here: a lot of things have to go right to get a boat hauled, onto a truck, and onto the jackstands as planned. And because we are talking about something related to boats, very little ever goes as planned. Also, because we are talking about something related to boats, the checkbook was going to get a serious workout.

The first challenge: finding a day to do this job. The nameless new/old boat was sitting in the marina in Port Townsend. We do have jobs, it turns out, and kids, and pesky things like that. Finding a time we were both available proved pretty much impossible. And in fact, with the closure of the Hood Canal Bridge looming it came down to one day that would even remotely work. So I started calling...

The second challenge: getting the Port of Port Townsend to put me on their calendar for a haul out. Having only one open day didn't exactly give us a lot of flexibility, but with a little bit of begging and a "promise" that we would be able to haul the boat directly onto a truck instead of taking up time and space in the boatyard, I got them to bump someone else so we could get her out of the water. Now about that promised truck.

As far as I could tell, there are three companies that transport sailboats in the Puget Sound area. The first number I called connected me to a guy named Terry or Kerry or something like that. If you want him to move your boat, I can give you his number, and he's "pretty sure" he can move your boat just fine. He's got a pretty big truck and a trailer that he's hauled some big boats on before. Just don't ask him if he's insured. He'll hang up on you. True story.

The second number I called connected me to an actual business. But by the time they asked the right people the right questions, it turned out that they couldn't get a truck to Port Townsend that day. Uh oh. One more shot.

Associated Boat Transport, and their trusty owner Jack came to the rescue. He already had a truck on the Olympic Peninsula that day anyway, and they could pick us up on their "way home." Cool by me. Jack even offered to sell me some jackstands, and 150% of retail cost. So nice of him. More on Jack and his jackstands later. I took his offer tentatively, though, and told him I would try to find my own stands in the meantime. No luck on that. I called every boat yard I could find. No one would sell me stands.

The last variable (I thought) was getting a crane to pull the mast. Does it seem odd to anyone else that the Port of Port Townsend doesn't have their own boomtruck or crane? I mean, even the Port of Everett has their own crane. You would think a boatyard the size of Port Townsend would have such a thing. Nope. I had to call a guy named Shannon, who knew a guy who knew a guy who had a boomtruck.

Outgoing Message on Shannon's phone: Hi it's Shannon. I'm out of town until the first of June. If you need help with a crane, you should call Joe inaudible last name at 360-blah blah blah static static.

Awesome. I have the haulout scheduled, a truck coming, and getting the mast out of the f-ing boat was going to be the thing that derailed me? F-word. Another half hour of calling around and I finally got the name and number of that guy that someone knew who had a boom truck. 10 a.m. on the do-or-die day? Schedule it.

Sweet. Now nothing could go wrong.

Except the tide tables. For no apparent reason, I decided to check the tides for the day of the haulout. Minus 2.8 feet? When I see this I remember that the boat is moored in the cheapest section of the marina, between the outside of the float and the breakwater. At low tide, it is trapped in. Even at mean tide, it looked like a pretty serious adventure to get out of there.

I call the marina office.

"Hey, I have a mast pull and a haul out scheduled for Monday, but the low tide will make it so I can't move the boat on that day. Is it ok if I move it to the other side of the dock for the night?"

"No. That's what you get for mooring your boat in the limited access space."

"Gee. Thanks. You're very helpful and kind."

"If you want to move it to a different spot you have to pay transient moorage for the night."

"I just though since I was already paying to use the work float to pull the mast, you might just let me slip over there 12 hours early. No one will be using that space overnight."

"No."

"Hey thanks!"

I know better. The lesson I re-learned here is that you can't do a damn thing over the phone or on the web.

Hayden and I drove up to the marina the night before the haul out and walked into the port office. Could we move the boat tonight and leave it at the work float overnight? Sure? No problem? Don't worry about paying? Wow. Maybe you should work the phones.

So we started up the engine (yep, it runs!) and drove her around the marina. Thunka thunka thunka thunka. Nothing quite like a 30 year old single-cylinder Yanmar diesel to rattle the fillings out of your teeth. And there we left the boat, waiting for the adventure to begin.

Hayden had to work and miss the festivities the next day, so I conned Skipper Krumm into joining me on the chaos. If anyone loves tinkering with sailboats more than Krumm, I've never met them. He's a good guy to have around if you need help with anything boat related. Hey Dennis, want to spend a couple of hours (all day) helping me haul the boat out of the water? Sucker. (Seriously though, Thanks Dennis!)

We had all morning to get the mast ready to be lifted off the boat. No problem. I'd done this twice on the old O'Day with no problems. Take off the boom, undo the standing rigging, and lift her right up. That's Krumm there on the bow monkeying with a turnbuckle or something.

Problems. The bolts at the gooseneck of the boom are 30 year old stainless steel threaded into aluminum. So those aren't going anywhere. The flange on the gooseneck also kept us from just folding the boom up against the mast for the hoist, to be dealt with later. Nope. We had to get that damn thing off. No dice. Short of drilling out the bolts (which we didn't have the tools to do) it wasn't coming off. So we had to lift the mast with the boom attached and swinging around. Good times.

Boom truck arrives. We attach the mast, get some tension on the cable, and undo the turnbuckles. These actually came undone! Wow. Ok. LIFT!

Nothing. The damn crane actually started lifting the whole boat up out of the water by the mast. If anyone has any question about the reinforcement for the mast step in the Cape Dory 27, I can attest to its strength. Holy crap. So let's review. The mast is complete detached from the boat. It is just sitting on the mast step, and it isn't moving at all. 30 years of corrosion have essentially welded the mast to the mast step. We tried rocking the mast, pulling it forward, pulling it backwards, shaking it, pounding the living shit out of it with a piece of 4x4 lumber. Nothing. Insert long stream of F-bombs here. If we can't get the mast down, we can't move the boat. If we can't move the boat, we have to pay to leave it in the yard in Port Townsend until June, when the Hood Canal Bridge opens again.

Dennis leaves to let me swear to myself, ostensibly in search of some magic tool that will free the mast. While he's gone, I sacrifice one of his screwdrivers and use it like a chisel at the base of the mast. The crane is still attached (of course it is, he's charging me by the hour here...) and there is some tension on the cable. When I chisel my way around the mast step one quarter inch at a time, I think I see it move. Hope! First Obama is elected President and now this! Hope is alive! I keep chiseling. More movement! Yes we can!

And just like that, a mere three hours after we started, the mast just lifts right off the boat. Magic.

Never mind that the boom is still attached. We'll deal with that later. Let's get some lunch. Then we'll figure out how to deal with the rest.

During lunch the truck arrives, so we have that in the hopper. The only other variable now (I stupidly thought) was getting her hauled out.

Krumm went at taking all the rigging off the mast, except the port side spreader which, like his friend the mast, was welded in place from 30 years of corrosion. Awesome. I begged a Sawzall from a guy in the yard and just cut the damn boom free of the gooseneck. Proper tool, proper job.

The haulout was almost uneventful, except for the fact that they put the forward strap too close to the bow and almost dropped us. Good times.

To the washdown station we went and transformed this slimy, muck-covered but surprisingly unblemished bottom side...
...into this:

Check out that egg beater of a propeller. No wonder this thing is so notoriously sluggish under power. Start saving pennies for a three-bladed Max Prop!

Bring on the truck! The coolest truck ever built. Hydraulic everything. Set the boat on it, raise up the padded arms to hold it in place, tie it down, and we're golden!

And this is when Krumm inquires about getting the boat OFF the truck back at the house. It's easy, says the driver, you just take your jackstands and set them up and we lower the trailer down and drive out. "You do have jackstands, don't you?"

No. You're supposed to have them, Mr. Boat Transport and Storage Guy.

They forgot to send the jackstands! Jack, how could you? We were so close!

Remember my lesson about not doing things over the phone? Well, when I called looking for jackstands the previous week, no one had them. Now that I was there and needed them, no problem! The boys at SeaMarine (no coincidence, the same outfit that sold the old boat) came to the rescue with 4 used stands. We're back in business (and at a significantly lower price than Jack's jackstands would have been,

Off to the house. It was kind of crazy watching our boat go down the highway like that. And compared to the size boat he could be carrying on that trailer, she looked tiny!

Good truck drivers are amazing to watch in action. This guy casually backed his huge rig down our wooded, one-lane driveway, with drainage ditches on both sides and a big 90 degree turn in the middle. And he did it 6 inches at a time.

I pointed to where we wanted it in the driveway, and he hit the mark dead on. We couldn't have picked it up and set it there any better than he did.

So there she is. Up on stands and ready for some love and tenderness. We can't wait to get started, but it would be nice if they would fix that damn bridge pretty soon. It's a 3.5 hour adventure right now just to get over there.

As soon as we get back to the boat we'll post some pictures and thoughts about our first projects. The list is looooong.

-Greg

Step One: Get the Boat

2009-05-14T15:11:00.000-07:00

We didn't actually start out looking for a new boat. It just sort of happened. We had a boat. I had owned it before, got it in my divorce, and brought it with me to our relationship. And we had a good time sailing her. Hayden and I did a couple of nice cruises to the Gulf Islands and spent some days sailing around Puget Sound on my old O'Day 302. But it was clear after our last trip that it was never going to be our boat. And it was clear that with our increasingly busy work and travel schedules, we wouldn't be sailing much this year anyway.

So we decided to sell the O'Day. Piece of cake two years ago. But there we were at the end of the sailing season, in a massively depressed economy, with boats being repossessed and padlocked to the docks at our marina. Maybe selling a boat wasn't such a great plan?

Meanwhile, we started looking around for potential candidates. What kind of boat would be a good match for us? We knew we wanted a boat that was solid, salty, classic, and that had a little sex appeal to it. And we knew we wanted something small. A pocket cruiser.

One of the first boats that caught our eyes was a Pacific Seacraft 25. It was for sale in Port Townsend (still is, as of this writing) and at a good price. I called the broker and tried to work something out. I didn't want to put our boat on the market and wait. How about a trade? Our O'Day had a bigger potential market, even in the quickly dying economy. It was worth more. It had better equipment. Give us the Pacific Seacraft 25 and sell our O'Day.

No deal. The owner wanted nothing to do with it. Oh well. We tried.

So we kept looking. We found a Contessa 26 in British Columbia but it never really struck us as the right boat. To be honest, we were still fixated on the Pacific Seacraft. We tried a few more times. Trade and cash?

My dad even got in on the action at one point and offered to loan us the cash to buy the PS 25 while we waited for our boat to sell. This led to a trip to see the PS 25 with dad in tow, where learned that the boat needed at least a $4,000 overhaul to get the engine running. With an asking price of $15,000, we would now be looking at spending $20,000 and being left with $10,000 worth of work to do. No thanks.

Weeks later I get a phone call from the broker representing the Pacific Seacraft. Still no deal on the trade, he says, but I have a client looking for a modern 30 foot cruiser with good accommodations. Would we be interested in selling?

Um. Yes. Yes we would be interested. Girl Child #3 (that's how we keep track of all four kids: a simple numbering system) spent a weekend offloading the years of crap we had accumulated onboard, cleaning the winter mildew off of everything, and basically getting her showroom-ready. Give an 8 year old a rag and some spray cleaner and look out, man! That boat was looking good, and I will admit that I had some momentary thoughts of keeping her now that all of the gunk was washed off.

While we did have to go back and forth with the buyer a bit, we finally ended up selling the O'Day for what I paid for it way back in my previous life. I spent a glorious February day delivering our former boat to Port Townsend and I walked away...

Boatless. No marina fees. No insurance. No maintenance. We quickly realized that this is not a bad thing after years and years of dumping money into paint, haul outs, new sails, new canvas, engine repair, and everything else.

But not for long. In my daily trolling on Craigslist (and not the "Casual Encounters" section) I stumbled on an interesting ad:

For Sale. 1979 27' Cape Dory. Inboard Diesel. Good sails. Needs some work. No email. Phone calls only. Make offer.

While on the phone with the broker who sold our boat, I mentioned the Cape Dory. He still wanted to sell me the Pacific Seacraft, but he told me that another client of his looked at the Cape Dory and thought it needed too much work but that someone could get it for a song.

I can't sing. But I can make a low ball offer.

My first visit to the (sadly) nameless Cape Dory 27 in Port Townsend was greeted with a late winter snow storm and an arctic northerly wind of the type that freezes the snot to your nose and the tears to the corners of your eyes. You can't really tell from this picture, but trust me, it was nasty and cold out. But there she is! Beautiful lines, a spotless hull, and ready for someone to love her. The previous owner, we came to learn, hadn't sailed her in 5 years. He came to the marina once a week to run the engine and pump out the bilge. The neglect showed. The rope halyards were stiff as wire, the docklines were tied in permanent knots. Every nut and bolt appeared to be welded by corrosion to what ever they were supposed to fasten. The engine, due mostly to neglect, looked even older than its 30 year age would warrant. Rust, rust, and more rust. I can see why he had trouble selling it.

But underneath the neglect was the boat we were looking for. Something we could get cheap and something that we could get back into shape on our own. Before I left the boat the first time, I was already prepping a list of projects and doing some estimating in my head. New wiring, new charger, new AC system, new hot water heater, new pressure water system, new propane system. The interior and exterior wood would need refinishing. The upholstery has to go. The stove needs to be replaced. The rigging could use an upgrade. In the 2 hours it took me to get home, I had compiled quite a list.

When I got home and showed Hayden the pictures, we realized we had found the right type of boat. Smaller than our last boat, but big enough to be comfortable on a long cruise. Easy to sail and maintain. But with enough projects to get her ready to sail that by the time we were done, we would really own the boat together.

For the second visit to the boat we went together. It was a nicer day this time to be sure, and Hayden quickly saw what I did: a great old boat that needed to be taken care of.

Boat Buying Tip: When someone has been trying without success to sell a boat for over 5 years, you can pretty much walk away with it for any price. The owner just wanted to be done. He wanted out. After a couple of weeks of thinking about things, I called him up and offered him $6,000 less than he listed it for. I couldn't get the offer out of my mouth before he accepted. Damn. Now we owned a boat again!

A week later we delivered a check to the owner (who dragged us to the bank to verify the funds and made us sign all sorts of forms he was convinced he needed...old guys are really afraid of fraud, I realize. Has this guy been taken by a few too many schemes in his day? I mean, we had a freakin' cashier's check and he still made us go to the bank with him!) and we took the keys.

Our boat.

-Greg

Next up: Step Two: Getting Her Home!