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.