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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.