Win or Lose, It’s A Cheap Boat Trick

Tis the season. Or almost. Our transitional Northwest Weather is upon us once again and you know what that means: Rain. Yes, we all better get ready for winter and the wet it brings.

Snug inside the canvas enclosure.

One of the best things about Galapagos is our dandy cockpit with the nice hard dodger. It really extends the space for outdoor living. When we bought the boat it came with an old but still serviceable canvas enclosure. Someone put down some serious money on this thing and when it was new, I’ll bet it was hell for stout. Over the many years, however, the UV has taken its toll, and it has shrunk up a little, meaning that the panels are about an inch too small on the sides now. Stretching them to fit means they must be wet down, and even then, my hands cannot handle the task. Those snaps are too far apart and it’s already beginning to tear in many places.

We need the enclosure during the winter. It does a great job of keeping the cockpit dry, which will helps us keep wet foul weather gear out of the boat interior. It also helps contain heat. The cockpit becomes like a little sunroom, minus the sun on a normal day in winter. But once the enclosure is set, getting in and out of the cockpit is a PITA. You have to unsnap, squeeze inside then try to re-snap, which isn’t going to happen. We usually just leave the panel corner flapping around. And that doesn’t do much good with rain. Something had to be done.

At anchor in the Gulf Islands. She has the rear part of the enclosure attached.

We kept thinking we’d get a new canvas enclosure, but sheesh! $$$$. Also… Mexico. Are we really going to use this particular kind of enclosure once we are south of the cold and wet? Wouldn’t a more lightweight one be better, preferably with screens? We decided that a new enclosure was not on the ‘need’ list. We can wait until we are down south and then see what we actually need.  But what about this winter? I kept looking at that pile of canvas in the storage unit and thinking ‘I could do this myself’. When Mike, looking tired, asked me how much he would need to pay me to NOT take that on, I should have listened rather than feeling challenged. Really, sometimes you’d think he’d know better.

When designing a cheap boat trick, it’s important to keep in mind the goals. In this case the goals were easy: keep the rain out, keep more light in, make it easy to deploy, and do it myself. You’ll notice that one of my usual goals, attractiveness, didn’t make the cut. Good thing, too.

I went to the Canvas Shop in Olympia and took one of the old panels with me. Discussing our needs with the owner there, we decided that since I needed to get only 1 season out of the thing,  I could make do with heavy rolled clear plastic and marine grade canvas. This was something my sewing machine and skill level would be able to handle. $83 later I left the shop with ideas forming in my brain.

I would repurpose the attachment system at the top of the panel because that still worked well. It’s a heavy bolt rope that feeds into an aluminum channel on the hard dodger. I would remove the bolt rope from the old panel, preserving the panel as well as possible just in case I needed it later.

Bolt rope attachment system. Still works great.

Bolt rope attachment system. Still works great.

This past weekend I decided to dive into the project. It was, in a word, irritating.  On the whole it was a dissatisfying project from start to finish, but at the end, I have something that MIGHT last the season. And the goals of being easy to deploy and getting more light into the space are met. My home economics teacher would hang her head in shame at the stitching, but this project pushed my little Brother Runway to its limit.

For all you folks eager to take this project on, here is my hard learning: Hire someone. That plastic is the devil. The needle will go through easily enough, but it would have been made much easier if I had a LARGE workspace where the stuff could lie flat. This is because as the plastic tries to drape over the machine and hang down, it grabs onto everything in sight, keeping it from feeding through the machine smoothly. I was seriously cursing before the first edge was complete.p1100434

In addition I’m sure there is some trick of the trade for keeping the canvas edging in position on the plastic while you sew, but since I’m not in the trade I don’t know what it is. Maybe there is something on Youtube. You do the Google, because I’ve decided I’m making only one of these, not two.

Know what else would have made this easier? Hiring someone else. OK, no really, an industrial sewing machine like a Sailrite, with a walking foot. If I were to post this project on the Sewing On Boats Facebook page, I would get a lot of very annoying comments about how I should just buy a Sailrite, all from people who are part of the cult-like following those machines have, and all from people who are not privy to my bank account. Know why I don’t have one? Because I’d rather spend the money on something else. I’m not ready to commit to doing canvas work, even though I seem to be doing just that. If I spend that money on a sewing machine, someone is going to be expected to use it and I’m probably that person. If one fell from the sky, I’d take it, but until that happens, I have many other things to buy that I’m going to use every day, like a new sail track system for that main sail. Some of us have to prioritize.

Finally in place. Just don't look too closely at the handiwork.

Finally in place. Just don’t look too closely at the handiwork.

So what will we do about the rest of the cockpit? I will put the old canvas cover up and get it situated somehow, repairing by hand places that are coming apart due to UV exposure. We only need one more season out of the thing, and we will just have to go in and out of the cockpit through the port side. This project, while cheap and tricky, just barely comes in over the finish line as a win. Hey maybe I will get to that peeling teak during our next sun break.

This drain stood way proud of the deck. Water never drained there. It was a problem.

This drain stood way proud of the deck. Water never drained there. It was a problem.

On a more positive note, Mike took out that deck drain that was standing proud of the surface, keeping water from draining correctly on the port side. Whee! I can’t tell you how excited I was to see streams of water disappearing from the deck. I still dislike the design, preferring to have water drain directly overboard through scuppers on the side rather than down into the boat and then out the bottom. Some day we will have those redesigned and those holes in the bottom of the boat filled in. But until then, this is so much better!

Much better!

Much better!

And as a follow up on this post, we heard from a previous owner of Galapagos who reads our blog and communicates with us about her history and the things he did to improve he. He added that lovely hard dodger and had some words of wisdom for us.

“Looks great !!! Wow what great work. However!!! First of all those side curtains were a godsend at sea when stormy weather or just cold wind made it uncomfortable to be on watch. Spend the money on those to make sure they are the best. As far as screened curtains I had a full set made for the no-Seeums that bugged … Pardon the pun …. Us on the South Pacific and the masses of flys in the sea of Cortez. Did we use them??? No …. dispute being able to kill up to 5 flys with one swat in Mexico we decided that the air flow and light cooling exchange it provided in 100 plus heat was more important than the lack of bugs. Spend the money on weather rain and wind resistant canvas and forget the screen stuff. It should be still on the boat or maybe the previous owners saw the light and sold it or gave it to some unsuspecting cruiser for a cold beer. Those canvas side and rear curtains were the best after two tries and one canvas curtain maker running for his life after me kicking him off the boat and threatening him with close to death if he ever set foot on my boat or considered suing me for lack of payment. The hard dodger was designed by one of Bill Garden’s staff and myself and built to exacting standards by Philbrooks in Sidney to the tune of $32,000 ….later reduced to $20,000 after a bit of angry discussion between us. Enjoy it !! It is solid teak and probably now worth more than the whole boat.
I sure hope I get to see you and all the great things you have done before you head south… I loved that boat more than you will ever know.
Cheers
Derek”

 

It’s so lovely to be able to get some history from Derek and we, too, have found those side panels to be worth the effort required to use them. We plan to have the whole thing redone in Mexico where we might be able to afford to have it done for much less than it would cost us here.

Consider This

Mike and I have never ‘lived aboard’. The times we have spent night after night on the boat, times where we’ve been able to get into any kind of routine, we’ve been at anchor somewhere on vacation. That’s a way different animal in many ways than living aboard at the marina. This week we turned the house over to Jill and Andrew and decided to stay at the marina. We get 8 days/month to stay aboard without being considered ‘liveaboards’, so we figured we’d take them while the weather is decent.

When you live at the marina, you get to see things like this.

When you live at the marina, you get to see things like this.

How are we doing with living at the dock? Pretty good. As a rule we’ve always enjoyed being at the marina, and, of course, we love our Galapagos. But here are some differences between dock living and land house living that readers who don’t have boats may not have considered. These are among the many things you must be able to take in stride if you are going to live aboard a boat happily. So if you are considering living aboard, consider these points.

ONE: It’s loud. I mean really loud. We are next to the freeway and the train tracks. We are next to other people on other boats; people who talk to each other when we are trying to sleep, people who have dogs that bark at us. Flushing the head is loud and long. Everytime someone runs the water the water pump comes on. Walking across the floor would put an old house’s creaks to shame.
Our solution? These particular earplugs. Even though I am very hard of hearing, earplugs are necessary for me to get any sleep here. Fortunately, these really do work! I just ordered a lifetime supply. You might want to hurry and order. They’re on sale. Don’t let the price deter you. You can use them over and over and over.

The neighborhood.

The neighborhood.

TWO: Privacy is different. We love the marina community here and everyone appears to be entirely respectful of each other’s private space. But it is very different because you actually see people all the time. They are out and about, walking up and down the docks, sitting in their cockpits waving as people walk by. It’s like living in the middle of a small city. We hardly ever see anyone at home, and if we don’t make an effort, we can go weeks without visiting our neighbors. We really enjoy being in a community of people at the marina, and the amount of privacy we had at our house is unlikely to be missed too much. But I can imagine some marinas where this would not be at all true. I think it has to do with the people where you are and we got lucky at Foss Harbor. In spite of that I will not be sitting in the cockpit in next to nothing drinking my morning coffee in the marina like I do at home, and at anchor. I do have my limits.

THREE: Tasks take longer and require advanced planning. Consider my aforementioned morning coffee routine. Boil water, unplug kettle, plug in frother and froth milk. You can’t do it at the same time, and in the winter I will have to turn off the heater before doing either of these things. That’s because there isn’t enough power on the boat, even plugged into the dock, to run two heating devices at once. (Not to mention the fact that there are way fewer areas to plug things in.) I learned that the hard way last winter when I tried to make coffee while the heat was on. Whoops. Want to dry your hair? Turn everything else off first. Need to change a lightbulb? Well, it’s unlikely you will be able to get to the extra bulbs unless you take a bunch of other things out of the cabinet first. It’s not like at home where you walk into the utility room, reach up on the shelf, grab a bulb and go for it. Probably it’s going to take you at least 15 minutes to do that simple task. Multiply that by the number of tasks performed daily.
Just ugh.

Just ugh.

 FOUR: Grit City. This is how Tacoma is referred to and we have figured out why by having our boat docked in downtown Tacoma for several years. This black grit is everywhere and on everything. Therefore it’s kind of hard for the boat to ever feel really clean to me. Today I rinsed off the hatch lenses and lo and behold, there really is sky out there and I can see it again! Wiping the surfaces inside the boat will reveal everything getting covered in gritty black dust. If you like to clean, you’ll love living on a boat in a marina in the city. I like our marina, but I look forward to getting away from this dirt.

FIVE: Everything is tiny. This seems obvious, but think about the implications. Doorways are tiny. Passages are narrow. Sinks are elfish. In the shower, you can practice your squats to pick that soap up off the floor because there is no room to bend over. Small, narrow spaces mean you have to pay attention to where your body is in physical space. Bruises are ubiquitious to boat living because there is always something to bump into. And that’s just while at the dock! (Actually, there are fewer bruises when underway in these small spaces because they give you a place to brace yourself. But this post is about being at the dock.) These small spaces also mean that the few pounds I put on over the summer have to go. I really feel the difference on the boat. And remember, we have a really big boat by most people’s standards.

Turn sideways, please. And watch your step and you walk through our shower.

Turn sideways, please. And watch your step as you walk through our shower.

 

SIX: Cooking is tantamount to building the Parthenon, as we say around here. That means it is unnecessarily complex. The workspace is on top of the fridge, which is bloody inconvenient almost all of the time. Lots of people love cooking on a boat and maybe you would be one of them. But even at home, I’m not crazy about cooking. In a perfect world I come down to find breakfast waiting in a variety of heated dishes on the sideboard and served by a man named Jeeves. Since that’s unlikely in this lifetime the simpler the better in terms of meals.

From unloading the fridge to accessing various pots and pans at the bottom of a deep storage space, most boat cooking is a bit of a challenge. I haven’t found my groove with refrigeration organization yet.

SEVEN: You must have constant vigilance regarding moisture. And I’m not talking about the obvious thing like boat leaks, although there’s that, too. I’m talking about how you can’t store anything below the water line without putting it in plastic to avoid mildew. And that’s only the beginning. For instance, today I bought air tight containers to store medications and first aid supplies because the air on a boat is always moist to some degree and that moisture ruins things. In a house, you bring home your medications and even things like spices, and you put them in the cabinet. On a boat, you do that at your peril. Storage containers must be airtight if you want these kinds of things to last. Think for a moment, if you will, about storing everything you have in your house in plastic ziplock bags or air tight plastic storage containers. Everything.

Jeeves. Fridge to the left, cabinet where pots are stored to the right.

Jeeves. Fridge to the left, cabinet where pots are stored to the right.

EIGHT: Boatatosis. We all have our super powers and mine is the sense of smell. I could always tell when it was time to clean the floors at my house by how the house smelled when I walked in. This was due to our having a dog in the house. On board Galapagos, we battle smells from our engine room. Hiram’s room (our little red Beta engine) can have a smell reminiscent of teenage boys’ filthy socks. Maybe we should have named that engine Audrey because everyone knows girls smell better.
The worst part is that when a boat has a smell, people, including us, assume it must be the head (the bathroom). That’s not always the case. For us, it’s the bilge. We’ve tracked down the smell to the spillage of hydraulic fluid which, when mixed with bilge and heat, creates a stinky stew that is really offensive. At home, I could just wash my floors and get that clean house smell. On the boat it’s much more complicated and involves cleaning out a deep, dark reservoir of rank. Oh yes, and we can’t actually see into this bilge because Hiram is sitting on top of it. (Yes, Mike is just finishing up replacing the original hydraulic fluid lines, which apparently had a leak somewhere. Hopefully this will lessen our problem.)

NINE: Expanding on number 5, even the trashcan is smaller. When cruising trash is a really big deal to handle and our boat is large enough that we have to have a written plan for handling it.  But even at the dock, dealing with the inevitable trash of modern life is constant. We have one trashcan. One. And it is smaller than the size of a plastic grocery bag. We endeavor to keep as much trash as possible off the boat but even so, especially when doing projects, we have to make at trash run each day. We almost always have an overflow trash bag in the cockpit, which drives me a little crazy.

Trashcan for tiny trash.

Trashcan for tiny trash.

TEN: Rule of the boat. Boat dwellers already are familiar with this. This is the law of nature that says that wherever you need to go on a boat, someone is going to be in your way. Need to get through the passage into the aft cabin? Mike will be in the engine room with the doors open blocking the way. In order to get through you will either have to go around, or he will have to disturb his task to let you through. Need to get something in the galley? Not if someone else is there first you don’t.

Am I complaining? Not even a little bit. But it is what it is and people need to know all the things that are true, not just the sunshine and sandy beaches things. Which, by the way, we did not even get this year. There will be times when I will become seriously annoyed at one thing or another on this list. But on the whole, it’s going to be completely worth it. In fact, last night as I nestled down in my comfortable berth after a long day of boat projects, I noticed this little niggle of a feeling bubbling up from somewhere close to my solar plexus. I think it was something like contentment.

Do you live on a boat? What annoys you the most?

Aft Cabin: Fait accompli!

I’ve been waiting over two years to write this post. We finally have the aft cabin we’ve been wanting on this boat. It’s been quite the process. The problem: while large, the aft cabin offered no way for us to sleep together. This was a bit of a let down when we looked at the boat, but one that didn’t keep us from loving her anyhow. One side had been updated to a ‘double’ berth, which frankly, in boat language, means that one adult can sleep comfortably with their partner if the partner is the size of a tiny, swaddled babe. The other side was a narrow single. So basically one of us, usually me, could get a decent night’s sleep and the other one got a marginal sleep. I don’t know about you, but good sleep is the foundation upon which I stand.

The middle 'seat' was basically useless.

The middle ‘seat’ was basically useless. We just never used it at all.

When we bought the boat there was a worn out mattress on the ‘double’ side. That had to go quickly. For a short term solution I bought a foam mattress on Amazon, meant for an RV, and cut it to fit the space. That was a good solution for awhile, but we always knew it was temporary.

A minor upgrade, but a world of difference in the short term.

This year we got serious. I went to the boat show in Seattle and spent the day with an agenda to talk to mattress manufacturers. I knew this was going to be pricey because it’s a big space. I used a king sized mattress cut for a V berth by way of comparison, although I knew it would be a bit more than that because we have a large middle piece. The lowest bid I got was from an east coast firm that quoted me a price of $3700, plus shipping for a bed that felt pretty good on the showroom floor, but I was not sure how long it would last. At that point, I really didn’t know the right questions to ask about foam quality. That was a low ball price with very basic fabric covering. The other bid I got was closer to $5000 after taxes. Again, that was for the basic model. I’m not known for choosing the basic model of anything. I can upsell myself like a champ.

Ikea had a natural latex mattress, but I would have to do all the work myself, and I didn’t actually want to, especially as the mattresses alone would have been about $2200 after taxes. I was okay with that price, but not sure I was up to handling the task willingly. Sometimes I just want to pay to have things done. This was one of those times. Every time Mike would see me toying with the idea of doing the whole thing myself to save money, he would shake his head and say, ‘No, Lucy.’.  I love that man, but already I was getting a little concerned we’d have to choose between a new strong track for the mast and a decent bed. I consider the idea of ‘compromise’ to be a challenge for me to get my cake and eat it, too. The little grey cells in my head began to work.

We decided to press the ‘pause’ button for awhile and get the final design on the template in the aft cabin completed so we’d know exactly what we would be working with. We played with measurements and made a cardboard template, then a butcher paper pattern from that. I took measurements at intervals along the hull to get the curvature right. I learned how to do this on You Tube, where people learn how to do everything these days. What a world we live in.

Measuring for the curvature.

In the end, we ended up with this expanded sleeping space.

We lost a tiny bit of walking space on the right, but nothing in the middle since we couldn’t walk there anyhow. We don’t miss the few inches we lost on the right in the photo.

During our ‘pause’ we played with combinations by redoing the foam in both of the other cabins, educating ourselves on foam types. We were killing the proverbial two birds with one stone; a metaphor that while violent, is apt. We created our ‘rumpus’ room in the v-berth by using a firm foam base with a medium foam on top of that. It’s good for sitting, fine for sleeping if you like a firm mattress. We love that space now and are able to sit and watch our DVD’s on our new little TV/DVD player combo Mike wrote about. It will be a great guest cabin.

We used the old foam with a 3″ latex topper to remake the midship cabin. It’s a luxurious sleep now. We liked the latex topper from Sleep On Latex so much we decided it was a win for the aft cabin. One decision down.

On a whim I took our pattern up to Seattle to Friendly Foam. The young man who helped me was, indeed, friendly as he wrote out the bid for something close to $6,000. Without upholstery. That’s just for the foam, cutting, and gluing.  Ouch and OUCH! I bowed and scraped my way out of the shop, trying not to run,  wondering what I was even thinking of going in there. I mean, these people probably do great work, but they pay Seattle real estate prices for their shop.

In the end, we took our pattern, our latex, and our desires to our local Best Foam and Fabric shop in Tacoma and they did the cutting, gluing and upholstery for us. Let me tell you, there is something grand about having an expert you work with who knows his topic and is willing to spend some time educating others. We love this place and will always go to them first whenever we need upholstery or foam for any kind of project. If you live in Seattle, make the drive to Tacoma before you make a decision on who is going to do your foam and upholstery. They are awesome and their prices are more than fair. We ended up using a three layer approach with a 3″ dense base layer, a 2″ medium layer, and the 3″ natural latex topper. After making sure these fit perfectly (they did!), and covering them with the PUL waterproof fabric, I took them back to be upholstered.

Three layers of foam.

Here’s the final cost breakdown. By way of comparison, I had to order one queen sized topper and one full sized one in order to get enough latex material for the entire cabin. I ordered the latex myself because the good folks at Best Foam couldn’t get a better price than I could at Sleep On Latex and they were impressed with the quality of latex I showed them.

Foam:  dense and medium, 1100$
Latex: $570
PUL fabric: (used 40% discount coupon from HobbyLobby) $78.00
Upholstery Fabric: major discounted find at Hancock Fabrics, may it rest in peace. $120
Upholstery labor: $400

Total cost: $2,268 , a savings of at least 50%. Sweet. The only labor involved for me was covering the foam mattresses with the PUL fabric. Best Foam and Fabric couldn’t do that for me because her sewing machine was for heavy duty fabrics only.

In a previous post I wrote about how I wanted to be able to lift these mattresses up with ease to get to the stowage underneath. Getting to the stowage isn’t as hard as we predicted it would be so we are forgoing that little project in favor of other, more urgent things.

The bed feels luxurious and should last 20 years with good care. We are very happy with it. Now I get to design bedding! The little grey cells, they are working their magic.

And here is a link to the last post in this series, whereby we finally get sheets.

Ta Da!

Pillows are storage for blankets and other bedding.