Category Archives: Boat Work Projects

Great 2022 Refit: Wet with a Chance of Rain

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Current mood aboard S/V Galapagos: damp. My friends, when you thread the needle this closely regarding the inevitable weather change from summer to fall, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Fall haulouts are always a bit of a gamble. We had a beautiful summer up here in the Pacific Northwest and this lovely sunny weather lasted well past its usual time. October 2022 saw record breaking heat.  After the quite miserable spring we had, during which the entire population of western Washington moaned continuously that summer would never come, I felt like a beautiful October was our due. Other than the ravaging forest fires and their lingering smoke in the air, it’s been terrific to not have to worry about rain for a few months. Yes, I realize that we need rain for the plants to grow and etc etc. Many people are thrilled to see the 14 months of rain and glowering dark skies we have in store for us return with a vengeance. I am not of that ilk. And neither are our two salon hatches on board Galapagos. The rain, they do not like it.

To be brief: they leak. Badly. And try as we might, we had not been able to fix them in a way that was appropriate to our level of love and concern for our old boat. We attempted fixes on multiple occasions. We removed them and scraped and scrubbed the fiberglass, then rebedded them and did all the things people do to fix leaking hatches. And still, they leaked. The one over the galley leaked WORSE after we tried to fix it. We had  many discouraging words to say about that. There’s nothing like absolutely wasting time and effort on a lost cause to make one want to throw in the old proverbial cruising towel. We tried too many times to fix those damn hatches ourselves, only to be outwitted by the water. We’d had enough.

Sunnier days. Attempt number 2 on this hatch over the galley. That’s an actual sunshade by way of a tarp.

The leaking over time had led to this rot. Fortunately that all got fixed before Hans took a go at this hatch. Epoxy is such a good friend to have.

In anticipation of the Great 2022 Refit, we bought new hatches and prayed to the rain gods to hold off while they were installed by our new best buddy, Hans: Hans of the world of fiberglass art. Hans who says things like, “I just slop glass”, words that make me want to weep with the pleasure of just watching him work like the magician he is. I have so much admiration for true crafts people. They make things like fine fiberglass work look easy when they are not.  I hate that Hans has to work under tarps today. And I don’t think he is pleased about it either. Neither is his assistant, Heather. And we are dead sorry for them. But we don’t control the great Mother. Nature that is. The rain gods laughed at our folly.

The glamorous life of the cruising sailor.

Setting up the fit for this new hatch. It will fit exactly on the cabin top, which has a slight curve to it in this location. I cannot wait to power wash this deck.

Really beautiful work. We are almost giddy with happiness over not having to live with the drips anymore.

The end of October is upon us and we have three great holes in the deck. Great timing, team Galapagos! We were too busy working to do a summer haul out. And also, have you tried to get on Jason (our rigger) or Hans’ calendar lately? Because there is no way they had time for us during the summer months. We would have had to schedule with them in October 2021 in order to get a summertime slot this year.  When it comes to talented and skilled crafts people, we will take what we can get. We got on their schedule, then left the dock for the first time in two years to scoot down the waterway to the boat yard.

We had these goals for this haulout: get both masts pulled, get the bottom painted before the rains came; get the hatches installed before the rains came, get a couple of minor fiberglass repairs completed before the rains came. Why were we up against a time crunch regarding rain? Naturally, you would ask that.

This was our second attempt at pulling the mast. Had the mast come out nicely on the first try, we would have had an extra week of beautiful weather to complete these tasks. However, that was not at all what happened. I should have known the signs were not auspicious when the boat left the slip with her stern going the wrong way, causing us to have to do a 20 point turn in the fairway. Ah well, hindsight.

On the first attempt, the mast would not budge and, in fact, the crane trying to lift the darn thing was actually lifting the entire boat which is, as we often say, NO BUENO. So we had to go back to the slip, tail between our legs, and pour vinegar between the mast and its little shoe for many days to try to get the metals to come apart. Seems the collar to the mast step was stainless, and our mast is aluminum. All boaters know this is asking for trouble as over time the two metals become one.

The mast, she would not budge. You can see the corrosion on the aft part of the mast, and that went down into the step, or so we thought. See the rust streaking? There is iron or steel  somewhere under there. But where? And yes, all wiring will be replaced and nicely labeled.

So we sat in our slip grinding out teeth as our good weather began to fade. Our dreams of a fresh bottom for Galapagos looked like they might be also be fading quickly, and it seemed like we changed our minds about hauling out almost hourly. Mike checked his pro version of Windy probably every 15 minutes to see if the forecast had changed. Usually it had. For the worse. But the least amount of time we would have, a little less than two days, seemed like it was doable to get the bottom painted if we kept our focus, and if we hired someone else to do the sanding. And, after all,  Hans had not bailed on us yet regarding the hatches and other repairs. We sealed the deal over a beer and decided to go for it. We had nothing to lose but our money and our sanity.

Fog engulfed the boat as we slipped away at low tide without any drama whatsoever. I consider a no-drama departure an auspicious sign that the energy of the event is flowing freely. It’s also a sign that we plan our departure according to the currents in the marina, but whatever. I’ll take my signs and you take yours. The boat was in position. Everything was a go. Would we have to break out the large, destructive tools to get the mast to free itself? Would there be sledgehammers or even sawzalls involved in this gig? I shuddered to think and kept my fingers quietly crossed. It’s moments like these when I have great respect for the age of our boat.

Sitting down below, eyes on the prize, I didn’t even realize the crane had started lifting when suddenly the mast just let go without even a squeak of protest.  Yahoot! On our second attempt, it popped right out as though nothing had ever gone wrong before. We could see that when it was stepped, the workers used duct tape around the edge of the stainless to protect the metals from touching. This did actually keep the issue from being much, much worse. But over time and vibration, that tape wiggled down around the bottom of the mast, exposing the steel to the painted aluminum. Anyway, the vinegar did the trick, as Jason (our very talented rigger) said it would.

She’s free! Now we clean up some surface corrosion, take the bottom off the mast to see how it all looks down there, and a lot of other good works.

On the aluminum plate under the mast sat this Loony, placed there by previous owner Derek. We’ll put that back, along with the Greek coin we had found under the mizzen mast years ago. Coins are placed under the mast for good luck.

It’s a bit unsettling to see your mast high in the air, but no more than seeing your boat up in the air.

Now we begin the work of pulling chainplates and refurbishing the main mast. I consider if I want to purchase a pop up rain cover because standing in the rain working on a mast is not my idea of fun anymore.

And the bottom job? We finished that as the first drops of rain began to fall. Whew. Just when we began to wonder if we still had it in us, we pulled it off.

I leave you with this photo of our latest addition to the family: Baby dog Emmett, a wee baby Miniature Aussie belonging to Andrew and Jill. Now we have two grand dogs! (And also a grand cat, to be clear.) Nothing better than a puppy to put a smile on your face.

Emmett. Age 8 weeks. His sweet little face! He is quite serious about his life just now.

 

 

Cheap and Easy Boat Tricks: Fancy Shower Wall

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Bang! Bang! Hammer pound hammer. Bang!

“What’cha doing in there, Michael?” I asked, from the comfy settee in the salon.

It was an innocent question, but I imagine he could hear the irritating anxiety in my voice; that tone which, while seemingly benign, transmits to my long-married spouse long-suffering spouse that I am concerned about his vigorous level of activity with a hammer or whatever tool he is currently wielding from his considerable arsenal.  It’s a tone that says, if not explicitly, then definitely implicitly, “I’m afraid you are going to break something in there. And then we’ll really be in the soup business.”

I know my beloved husband enjoys it when I bring into the conversational milieu what amounts to the obvious. It’s not like he isn’t already afraid he will break something. It’s just that I personally am more averse to breaking things. Especially on the boat. At home, I will break with impunity because I feel like there is nothing I cannot fix, or I cannot get Michael to fix, which sometimes, in my mind, amounts to the same thing but technically is not the same at all. On the boat, somehow breaking things seems more serious. Or maybe just more of a pain in the ass in general.

“I’m trying to get this damn faucet off in the shower. I bought the same unit to replace this leaky one and this one just doesn’t want to come off. What’d they use? 5200? I can’t believe it’s not just coming off as easily as it should. Stupid (mumble mumble mumble).”

“Oh, I see.”   My tone is mild, almost disinterested. I try valiantly to infuse my reply with the blandness of a bowl of cold oatmeal, unsweetened, no milk. But I can feel my anxiety rising. I mean what am I supposed to do? Stop him? Tell him the obvious? I wait, focusing on deep breathing. Willing him to be careful.

In a moment, the anxiety cascades as the cursing begins. Words of profound expression of the irritation type peel forth like church bells (?) from the tiny cubicle that is our on-board shower; words which are harbingers of, if not doom, then at least projects to come. Indeed, he had broken something. Sighing deeply and mentally adding another project to the on-going list that is Galapagos’ refit, I lumbered up off the settee, pregnant with gloomy anticipation,  and stepped into the shower room to view the carnage. Mike stood, unblemished faucet in hand, shards of razor sharp formica scattered on the floor; the formica that lined that wall of the shower.

“Huh.” he said, sounding confused. “I guess it was just stuck in some weird way. Should have come right off.”

Well, of course it should have. I accepted this with resignation. We would now need to remodel the shower.

Now all that formica will need to come off. He’s used to my taking these photos.

To be fair, I had wanted desperately to remodel the shower. But I didn’t feel like I had it in me. I mean, just the thought of removing all the almond toned formica which was, after all, still doing a good job even if ugly, made me want to take a deep and immediate nap. I had come out of the bunny hole of imagination that was images of our freshly remodeled shower stall dancing in my head,  and had made the logical and grievous but self-preserving decision to leave well enough alone. If it wasn’t broke, I would not fix it!  I would withstand the ugly shower stall in the service of our expansive to-do list. I would give up the beautiful for the functional. The almond 1980’s walls would have to do.

If you know me at all, you know this decision was difficult and I had perseverated on it for weeks, perhaps  months. I hated those shower walls. I love things to be functional and easy. And I also love them to be attractive. I want to enjoy the experience of looking at them and as much as almond/beige fiberglass is used in our boat, it’s not really my aesthetic and I’ve changed it wherever I could. I mean, have you seen our boat interior? It’s not boring. I firmly believe that beauty and function can be had together on board a sailboat and I live to prove that to be true.

But I had given up my idea of redoing that shower stall. Until Michael entered the shower with his little hammer. Or whatever it was he was using. It was now broken. I would have to fix it. At least this time it was Michael doing the breaking and me doing the fixing, and not the other way around.

All fiberglass removed from that section. Doing only one wall allowed me to make this project fun instead of drudgery. And having a focal wall meant I could go a little crazy with pattern and color that would have been ‘too much’ for the whole space. FYI, this shower is not original to the boat, as you can see. That area on the bottom used to be part of the mid-ship cabin berth. The berth was made narrower in that area so that the shower could exist. The unintended but dandy consequence of that is that the mid ship cabin is now a really good sea berth without adding any kind of lee cloth. You can just tuck behind the shower and wedge in with pillows. Very comfortable, indeed. What you see in the photo is the old front of the berth, and wood covering up what used to be drawer space.

In order to deal with my grief over the free time I was about to lose, my mind went through the usual list of things that would need to be done. Find formica that would match or at least look good enough. Maybe a bright color would be cheerful. Figure out how to get it home without breaking it.  Figure out how to cut it myself without Michael’s help because he still works a full time job and if there are projects that I can do myself, I try to take those on as much as possible. I probably COULD replace the formica myself but the lead time to doing so was not going to be fun and I was not looking forward to the process.  Figure out which saw to use, which blade to use, which glue to use. Cut it without breaking it or cutting myself.  I began to feel tired just thinking about it. I figured I would just buy a sheet of whatever the hardware store had on hand and call it good. I just was not engaged with this project at all and had stopped caring about whether I enjoyed walking through that shower 50 times a day.

At the hardware store I quickly discovered that it would not be that simple. They no longer stocked any flat sheets of formica of any kind. It was all special order. And everything they had that was easy to order was, in a word, BORING AND UGLY. It all looked like it wanted to be natural stone but just could not pull it off. But I needed something waterproof and easy to manage.

i briefly considered ceramic tile but abandoned that idea due to weight and the vertical nature of the application. I was worried it would break. Also just the idea of using a tile saw was pretty much a deal breaker. I don’t even know where mine is.

I wandered into the flooring section, eyeing the vinyl laminate flooring. Interesting, but way too heavy. Still, the seeds of creative opportunity had been planted by the ease of application of those strips of vinyl.  Suddenly this was not a project I was loathing. It was an opportunity to replace that hideous almond formica with something more updated, something less completely mind numbing, maybe even a little fun and kicky! Would it be possible for me to actually love my shower? My mind wandered back to the heavy vinyl flooring. Hmmmm. Vinyl. Hmmmm. I metaphorically drummed my fingers on my imaginary table, thinking deep thoughts about vinyl and its waterproof nature.

Back at the boat, I got on the interwebs and the idea occurred that perhaps there may be vinyl tiles I could use. Remember those nice asbestos tiles of the 1930’s and beyond? Twelve inches square, easy to cut, easy to work with, and they lasted forever. I could not do asbestos but perhaps a modern alternative? They would certainly hold up, but they were heavy. I was back to vinyl.

A quick google search and my patient process was rewarded. Peel and stick vinyl tiles. These were stick-on tiles that are meant for backsplashes and small areas. They were not what I wanted and were actually too light weight, but they were an interesting concept. I  posted a question about them to the Women Who Sail group, asking if anyone had experience using them. I was concerned they would not hold up to the heat in the tropics, should we ever actually get down there. I was right. The reports from other sailors were that the glue would not last in tropical heat. Also I was not jazzed about the patterns they offered. I moved on but could smell success getting closer.

I searched further and found these lovely peel and stick floor tiles, which were just the ticket. They were heavier than the backsplash versions, but still lightweight enough for my purposes. I mentally gave these the green light.  The only concern I had was that, like the stick on backsplash tiles, these probably also used glue that was sensitive to heat. So I needed to solve that problem. A few more searches for alternative uses of these tiles and I found what I was looking for. Loctite adhesive would play well with the adhesive on the back of the tiles and also would hold up to heat as high as 140F.  Considering I would be using these tiles well outside their intended use, that was as much of a guarantee as I was going to get.

Note that our boat stays pretty cool relative to other boats we have been in. The shower is also inboard from the hull so there is protection from direct heat. If we get to over 140F degrees inside the boat, we will have bigger problems than melting glue. The decision was made.

I ordered 4 boxes of tiles, way more than enough, but at a bit over 12$ for 10 square feet, I could afford to play and make mistakes. I also purchased some plastic molding to use to cover seams. That was less than 10$, so let’s just say 10$ because I can’t find the receipt. The glue was 12$ per tube, and I used 1.25 units, but I already had one on hand. I also had a tube of interior caulk but that would cost about 8$ had I bought it. All in, I paid well under 100$ for supplies, even with today’s inflationary prices. And remember, I way over ordered that tile. I only needed two boxes, and most of that second box is left. That brings the cost for the tile I actually used to less than 25$.  I have enough tiles left over for another project in the salon, when we get to that, and maybe one in the aft head.

Before I got started, I experimented with the glue to be sure it was going to play well with the stuff already on the tile, and that it would create a tight bond. I glued a tile to a piece of scrap wood with a slick varnish finish on it and let it set up for the recommended 48 hours.  I was satisfied with the result so I got started.

Tools and supplies. That’s our formica countertop that we had installed before we left the dock the first time. I absolutely did not install that myself.

Tools and supplies I used:

Tiles
Glue
Razor knife
Straight edge
Small hammer
Piece of wood
Wet paper towels for wiping extra glue off
Scissors to cut some of the smaller tiles that had irregular shapes. The tiles cut easily with scissors.
Interior bathroom caulk
Molding of choice if you need it

Tools I wish I had used but didn’t have:

Rubber mallet
Seam roller for flooring
A fine toothed mastic spreader
The hands and knees of a 30 year old

After prepping the area I experimented with the layout. I’ve done a lot of tiling in my life so I am aware that this part of the process cannot be rushed. Getting these tiles placed correctly the first time would pay off by making the rest of the process smooth. Some people use things like measuring tapes for this part, but I am more of a ‘hands on’ type of tiler. Those numbers mean nothing to me.

Cutting the tiles is so much easier than I thought. I liken it to cutting sheetrock, which seems like it would be difficult and messy but is actually dead easy. Just score the paper on the back and give the sheetrock a good sharp push with your knee. It breaks along the scored line. So satisfying.  These tiles get scored on the front with the straight edge and razor knife, then you just kind of fold them and they come right apart. Very easy and satisfying. You don’t even have to push hard on the razor knife, which my hands really appreciated. Just score the surface.

Easily cut to size.

I wanted enough glue on the back to go around the perimeter, creating a water tight seal, and then enough to spread out and hold the middle. The goal was to allow the tiles to still fit flat on the wall so they would butt together without a ridge, but then be able to squeeze glue out around all of the edges and then smooth it like caulk with my wet finger. That way all the seams would be glued. The two things that would compromise the integrity of the installation would be water and heat. This would help keep water from getting under each tile.

It would have been helpful to have a small toothed mastic spreader for this. Alas, I got too mad at the price tag of said spreader at the Lowes Depot (a name I have stolen from someone else who I don’t remember but I will use it forever now) and stomped out without it. I would do the installation with out that. Likewise I would love to have had a seam roller, but they were 40$ and I could feel maniacal laughter bubbling up at the thought I would actually spend 40$ on a tool I don’t actually need. Absolutely not. There are other ways.

Sure could have used that fine toothed mastic spreader. Oh well. See that wine? Also super cheap. Mike says it’s very good. I take his word for that.

So, glue on the back of the tile, I put the first tile in place. This is where a rubber mallet would have been handy, but ours is at the house. So a small hammer and piece of wood to protect the tile and spread out the pressure of the hammer worked just fine. I tapped and tapped, getting the glue to come out around the edges, smoothed it with a fingernail so the next piece would butt flat against it, and then let the first tile set up for a day. That way I would not be moving it around as I installed the other tiles. I used the level to check that the tile I just installed was the same amount of level as the top edge of the shower, which was my reference point. Amazingly, that top edge was actually level, which is saying something on a boat. Now I had one tile to be my reference for all the others.

Level? Check.

After the first tile was in the right place and set up, the rest of the tiling went quickly and smoothly. The main thing is to always make sure there are no ‘lumps’ of glue that have not been spread out and use the hammer or seam roller (for the wealthy) to smooth them out if you find them. If I could find my little rolling pen that I thought was on board, I would have used that.  I found that running my hands over the surface of each tile would let me know quickly if there was more tapping and rolling to be done. If the tap/roll action moved the tile out of place a little bit, I used the piece of wood against the edge of the tile and tapped that gently until the tile moved back into place. These vinyl tiles are really easy to work with and quite satisfying. Use damp paper towels to wipe off extra glue that comes up through the seams.

Fingers will find any glue lumps easily. Make sure the corners line up perfectly. Make sure the edges butt together smoothly and there are no ridges.

After leaving the tiles to set up for 48 hours, it was the work of maybe an hour to cut the plastic molding and attach that using the same glue. I did not screw it down. Just glued it. It weighs almost nothing. Then I caulked using interior bathroom caulk that you can clean off with water if you get to it before it sets. After doing around the edges I put some on my finger and pressed it into each seam between tiles, just for extra water security, then wiped the excess with a damp paper towel. We always wipe down the shower after we use it anyhow. So this installation will not require extra effort on our parts. (Honestly, those seams are so minuscule that this was more of a psychological thing than an actual physically necessary thing.)

Finished!

We are quite pleased with the result and will be using these tiles other places in the boat as projects emerge. I feel pretty sure these are going to hold up, but if they somehow don’t we haven’t lost much and meanwhile, we can be on to bigger projects. We have a list.  It is long.

S/V Galapagos, radio off.

 

 

 

Afternoon Gin (and Tonic)

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If I’m going to have posts, plural,  named Afternoon Gin, I suppose I need to write more than one.  Lately I’ve been monitoring my gin intake and have decided that I need to cut back. This is a sentence I never thought I would need to write. But the delicious nature of the gin and tonic as a beverage, and the subtle yet real pain relief I get in my upper back from having one at the end of the day conspire to make me understand, for the first time ever, how a person might become accustomed to a drink every day. Not to worry. I will not be sliding into the unconscious medicinal use of alcohol. I’m just saying that for the first time ever I understand how such a thing might be possible for people.

I’ve been doing a lot of walking lately. We have only one car, and we like it that way. Overall, cars are not only expensive, they’re a pain in the ass. In fact, the car we have is the same old Mazda van we drove down to Mexico a few years ago and left to languish in a field during the hot Mexican summer one year. That may have been an unfortunate choice for the car, which has always felt delicate since then. Lately we have been planning a road trip of some length and the car needs some work, so I have been carless while it is in the shop.

View from a bridge in Olympia. If you drive this bridge, you don’t see the rainbow railroad tracks.

Did you know that the average car payment is now over 700$? I read that on NPR so it must be true. All I can think is, “Oh, hell no.”

Here’s an interesting result of being carless: when I dropped the car off a couple of days ago, I locked the door and handed over the keys to the mechanic, put on my hat and sunglasses, and set off to walk the 3 miles back to the boat, doing errands along the way. I felt positively free. That’s right. In a city of cars, in a culture where one is actually judged by the type of car they drive, I felt free as I walked away from our old Mazda van with the “You are a God Damn Magical Unicorn” sticker on the bumper and the plastic dashboard Jesus in the cabin. It occurred to me to wonder if I would still feel that way if it were over 100 degrees outside. Probably not. Walking three miles in 65 degrees is easy. In the heat, it’s a long way. I may enjoy walking, but I’m not unAmerican about it.

You do see a lot more of city life when you walk places. This is a mixed blessing. I avoid grown looking men on tiny bicycles. Sometimes this means I cross the street more often than is strictly necessary.

Also, there are three excellent bakeries within two miles of Galapagos. Three. One of them French. Two of them are uphill on the way, but downhill as you are eating your fattening (I mean flakey..) pastry.

Enjoying other people’s gardens on a walk.

Then there are people in cars doing questionable things. No, not that kind of questionable thing, although once in California I saw something going on in a car that I absolutely wish I had not seen. I mean, could they not have waited? Was having middle aged people walking close by the car part of their excitement? Was it a shock value thing? Or were they just so narcissistic that they thought people would enjoy watching them exhibit themselves? Maybe they thought we were too old to know what they were doing. We weren’t, more’s the pity. Or maybe they were just so, again, narcissistic that they felt like their exhibitionism was their right.  These were people I did not wish to know. I am glad to have left them in California.

And that makes me think about the time I was in another grocery store parking lot and came upon a man quite thoroughly enjoying himself with his pants down and his car door wide open. I’m pretty sure he was not targeting me with his need to have people witness his pathetic self. But I happened to be there. It’s one of those times I thought, later of course, of all the cutting things I wanted to say to him right in the moment. But the moment passed, fragile with shock, filled with disgust,  and I went away wishing I had passed by 5 minutes later. Or maybe 20 minutes. He seemed to be having trouble.

And they smelled good, too.

No, this was a different kind of questionable thing. I was standing at the crosswalk outside the Thriftway and yacht club down by the water, waiting to cross the street. I noticed the traffic coming out of the parking lot was stopped, even though the light was green. Then I noticed why. The first car in line, a white 4 door Jeep of late-ish vintage, was being driven by a man in his early 40’s or so. He had dark hair, looked like he was well groomed, kind of sporty looking, and had a big golden retriever, or maybe it was a yellow lab. I got confused about the dog because I was distracted by the fact that he was pointing his phone directly at me and taking my photo. WTF, dude? Why are you taking a photo of an older woman in a blue hat and sunglasses,  pulling a little grocery cart packed with the gleanings of her errands, and walking back to her boat? I am not a tourist attraction, mister. It was…unsettling. I mean, why? What’s he going to do with that photo? Do I want to know? And if he makes money off it, should I not be offered my cut? Is he a fricking weirdo? I gestured wildly at him as he put his foot on the pedal and turned left. I hope he saw me. Or maybe I hope he didn’t. I’m not sure, actually. I don’t carry a gun. Maybe I should. No. I definitely should not.

I think it’s important to note that I don’t believe for a moment that any of these experiences were targeted at me personally. I mean, walking through the fields of life, you’re bound to step in a few cow patties along the way. They’re there. You can’t always see them before you step in them. These men in cars? They are just cow pies to me. I rinse off my shoes and carry on. It’s not my job to take care of their karmic debts.

I’m continuing to work on refinishing the teak dodger. Five years from now I’m probably still going to be working on that because I can only do about an hour or so at a time before I start hurting. At this point, all the wood is at an angle, most of it above my shoulders. Part of me wonders if I can just go to sea and let the old paint and varnish  wear off naturally, sanded away by salt and wind. The outside looks good. Just don’t come aboard and we’ll both be happy.

Mike removed the windlass from the aft deck. It’s a great windlass but we have only used it twice and during one of those times we determined that it was too dangerous for us to use it regularly. We were anchored off one of the islands at the mouth of the Sea of Cortez and we engaged in what is commonly known as a ‘shit show’ with that windlass. It was dark. It was windy. It was not pretty or safe. We are having to make a lot of decisions about how this boat is outfitted so we can move forward with phase two of the cunning plan. I am glad we have some experience using the boat the way we, personally, use it. The removal of the windlass is one of those decisions I hope we don’t regret, but if we do, so be it. We have other ways of setting a stern anchor if we absolutely want one, and removing it makes way for a radar pole. You can’t have everything on any boat.

We  found a really nice radar pole set up at Longship Marine, the used marine goods chandlery in Poulsbo, WA. It cost us easily less than a third of a new aluminum pole and it came with a stout davit we can use to lift the outboard. I am thrilled that it’s made of aluminum and doesn’t require polishing.  The davit is another one of those modifications we hope will allow us to sail more gracefully into our older years. See what I did there?

We got out of Poulsbo’s Longship Marine for less than 1000$. For that we got: the aluminum pole/davit system, a set of Magma Rock and Roll stainless steel stabilizers for all those rolly anchorages where other people throw out a stern anchor, a dinghy swim ladder, a personal locator beacon, some mahogany for finishing out the hatch in the galley, a huge EasyStow inflatable fender (10$! I was so excited!), and a hefty stainless receiver piece to sit that aluminum pole into (after we isolate the two metals, or course). We felt positively smug. Then we went for celebratory ice cream.

What a haul! And our Mexico van came through for us again. The pole just barely fit inside.

The removal of the windlass revealed some wet core in that area, probably as a result of the time we were docking this beast down in Astoria and the transmission stuck in reverse, causing us to hit a big steel fishing boat behind us. That was a very bad day. Anyway, Mike cut the fiberglass (it’s really thick, you guys) and scraped out the rotted wood. We’ve had some gentle heat on it since then, drying everything out really well. He’s going to replace the wood with a piece of Divinycell core material and epoxy. They had some Divinycell at the local chandlery, in their new consignment section. I hope that place takes off. It’s easy walking distance to the boat.

Oh, by the way… that bid we got for replacing the whole exhaust pipe? 1700$.  Um. Yet another “Hell No!”  from Team Galapagos. We were supposed to get two bids: one for replacing the flexible coupling and one for an entire new exhaust pipe. We got one bid, for the new pipe, then had to ask for the other bid. 450$ to replace the O’Reilly coupling. We opted to replace the O’Reilly because the pipe was still in good enough condition that we don’t actually need a new one. Seriously, do we look like people who just throw money at a problem? I mean, did he SEE our van? 2002, baby! Even our plastic dashboard Jesus is showing wear.

Scene that cannot be appreciated via automobile.

Lately my Facebook feed has been filled with ads that include recipes for yummy looking mixed drinks. It’s like the algorithm finally, after all these years, got it right.

Michael is cursing from the shower, where he is changing out a faucet. I heard banging before the many very specific words. This doesn’t sound good. I need to run.

I leave you with this dock friend.

 

S/V Galapagos, standing by. Sort of. I mean, our radio isn’t actually hooked up right now.