How Do You Spell Relief?

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If you’re old enough to remember that little slogan, welcome, fellow middle-aged-TV-watcher-of-yore.  The updated spelling is a little bit longer than the slogan would imply. The new, 2016 year of Galapagos-boat-work way to spell ‘relief’  is ALOFT MARINE.  Boaters know that it is really hard to find anyone who is qualified, knowledgeable, and willing to do work on boats; especially when you are not a billionaire with a huge mega yacht. It can be really hard to find someone you can trust with your vessel. Personal recommendations are the only way to go because the best folks don’t need to advertise. Word gets out and they have plenty of business.

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Thus I was over the moon excited to have attended the South Sound Women in Boating conference back in the spring and to come away with a coveted prize of three hours of boat systems and rigging consultation by Jason at Aloft Marine in Olympia. How did I accomplish this feat? I bought 30$ worth of lottery tickets, put them all in the basket for this prize, crossed my fingers, spit three times, spun in place, sacrificed the nearest virgin, then won. That’s how it’s done, folks. It’s complicated, but I’m kind of amazed at how many things I’ve won since we started this little adventure. Kind of makes me think we’re on the right track when stuff like that happens. Hey, maybe I should buy a lottery ticket!

When I won the certificate, a friend of mine who is a racing sailor in Olympia told me how lucky  I was. She and her husband have had Jason work on their boat and he was really excellent, she said. She assured me I would not be disappointed. A personal reference from someone I trust! Yay! Plus, he is a racing sailor himself and has been on sailboats for many years.  Bonus!

So last Thursday Jason showed up exactly on time at Galapagos’ slip and brought his rigging tools and all his other accoutrements with him. He began with the rigging inspection, which has weighed heavily on me since we bought the boat. I waited anxiously for his report about whether we would need to replace our standing rigging before heading offshore because this would be a financial burden we’d have to meet at a time when we have many other things to purchase. The answer was no. It’s in good shape, with a few minor things we need to either check more thoroughly, or need to correct. He climbed the mast and took a look up top, noting a few things that need changing or fixing, writing them down in his little notebook. He said we can do all of them ourselves.  The rig seriously needs tuning, which we already knew. But no replacement? One sigh of relief.

On to the mizzen mast. This rigging might be original to the boat, so he suggested replacing it. We were not surprised at that, and the expense for this mast will be much less because there is simply less material to replace.

The only major concern, which we’ve been aware of since last summer, is that there is some kind of leak underneath the mizzen mast, in the step. We spent time at a lovely anchorage last year, off Tzartus Island, isolating this leak and confirming that the leak is, indeed, under the mast. Oy.

See the water leaking out where the hatch is held open? That’s been going on for a LONG time. Jason says this design is asking for trouble. I can see his point.

This is a long time problem, as is evidenced by the amount of water damage to the bulkhead in the aft cabin and in the aft section of the engine room. Every time it rains, water leaks into the aft cabin through the attachment point for the lid to the hatch in that area. At least the water comes out rather than just sitting there soaking the wood.  That’s probably what has allowed that area to still be basically sound over this extended period of time. When we bought the boat we, of course, noted that, but the price of the boat was so good, we took the gamble.

You can see water dripping inside, and see there the water has damaged the teak veneer.

The bad news, although it’s not really ‘news’, is that we will need to pull the mast to fix this. Jason’s idea is to redesign this mast step to avoid this problem in the future. All of us will be surprised if we do not find some deck rot in that area. And we will have to check this bulkhead carefully, but tapping around on it doesn’t give you that hollow sound you’d expect with rot.  So that’s a project that will need attention during the big haul out next spring. The good news is that when Jason started giving me an idea of the costs involved in doing that work, they did not feel daunting, especially since Mike and I can do much of the work ourselves if we need to. We recently cut our teeth on fixing wood rot in the anchor/windlass locker. So the idea that this project is actually doable mostly by us is really a relief. Big boats can cost a lot, and we want to do right by ours.

Onward to the engine room, Mike finally got to consult with a marine engine professional about the engine mounts, confirm his plan to keep parts for an extra exhaust elbow on board, and in general, get someone with more experience than he has to lay eyes on the engine room and its systems. All to the good and another big sigh of relief all around. 14237499_902686499835969_5984000133208390165_n

By the end of our consult, we were so impressed with Jason’s professionalism, his communication skills (SO important!), and how down to earth he is. I really appreciated that he understood that keeping costs under control and telling us how to do things ourselves were primary concerns for us.  I also loved it that he has other resources in people he works with who do different things well, like finish work. This is what happens when people are secure with themselves and their business. You can have a real working relationship and not be afraid you are getting gouged in the wallet.  I asked him why he didn’t advertise more, and his response was that he actually didn’t need to. So there it is.

We feel so confident in turning some work over to Jason that we’ve decided to haul out next year at Swantown, down in Olympia, before we leave. That way he will be able to work Galapagos into his busy schedule without having to travel to Tacoma. We feel a big sense of relief in having found found someone we can trust to work on our girl for us and help us prepare her for the big trip.  In the boating world, finding a professional like Jason is the real prize. Thanks, Universe!

 

 

The Mysterious Case of the Sulphurous Smell

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When we bought Galapagos almost three years ago, she came with a lot of things. She came with great equipment, generous storage, a lovely salon, and a world class cockpit and hard dodger. She also came with an unfortunate smell. This was the kind of smell that caused people to turn up noses, look around for the offending issue, and to then look at us in that way that people do when their basic manners keep them from expressing their complete disgust.  Boat people know that boats have smells and accept a certain level of stink as just part of the lovely experience. This smell, however, was beyond the pale.

Looking happy to get those old hydraulic lines out. Were they responsible for the terrible smell? They were not.

Although the smell has always been there, we didn’t exactly put up with this smell so much as fail to locate its source. From the first day we bought her we were both busy doing things that make an old boat smell better. We pulled all the old head hoses out and replaced them with pvc. We cleaned out the bilge, sterilized it, and painted it before the new engine went in. Recently Mike pulled the old hydraulic steering lines which we are sure had a small leak somewhere and replaced with with fancy new lines, keeping stinky steering fluid out of the bilge. We re-cleaned the bilge. We have replaced old cushions with new.  And still, that smell remained. We’d think we had it licked, and we’d come down the next day, do a ‘smell report’, and find ourselves back where we started.

Clearly we needed a detective with a sensitive nose. Ordinarily I would call on Nancy Drew and her sidekicks Bess and George. I’m almost 100% positive that Bess has a bloodhound’s nose since she’s so sensitive in every other way. Between George’s athletic abilities getting into tight boat spaces, Nancy’s superior brain power, and Bess’ nose, they probably could have saved us loads of embarrassment. Alas, they have been busy over on my friend Ellen’s blog, solving the Case of the Missing Anchor. It was up to investigators Mike and Melissa to locate and neutralize the source of this smell.

This is the junction of the galley and the workshop, the area in question.

Let’s start with the clues:

One: It was not the head. Really. It wasn’t. Most people think if a boat has a bad smell, it must be coming from the boat toilet. In our case, that just wasn’t it. Our head does not smell. Even though the vented loop goes through the engine room, much to Mike’s annoyance,  you can put your nose right on it and it does not smell. The cabinet where the tank is stored does not smell, either.

Two: It was ephemeral. That’s right, I was beginning to believe that the smell was actually a disgruntled spirit on the boat attempting to call attention to himself. It came and went in a way that made it very hard to pin down. Could it depend on wind direction? Temperature?

Three: It seemed to get concentrated in the cockpit, especially if the boat had been closed up overnight. When we approached the boat, which we do from the port side, we could begin to smell it. When we entered the cockpit, it seemed to be concentrated there until we opened the windows to allow air to flow through. Then you could still smell it but not nearly as strongly.

Four: When we would open the companionway cover, and stick our head down in the cabin, we could smell it but it would shortly dissipate after air was let into the cabin. We could smell it below but it was not as heavy, and mixed with the normal diesel smells from the engine room, it was hard to pin down the location. It was not present in the salon or the forward cabin.  Nor was it present on the starboard side of the boat where the holding tank is located. The aft cabin sometimes had a whiff of it but you can also smell the engine room there. FYI, our boat lists slightly to port. Water will collect on the port side of the boat.

Five: It seemed worse during warm weather.

We want to be the boat with the fun cockpit, not the smelly cockpit. With Tate and Dani McDaniel and John Miller. Great times.

We began asking anyone who was friendly enough to come on board to tell us what they thought it was. After we got over the basic, ‘It’s the head.’ response and people paid more attention, everyone described the smell as ‘sulfurous’. It wasn’t the kind of sulphur you smell when you strike a match, but rather the kind you smell with hydrogen sulphide; kind of a rotten egg smell, but not quite. Still, enough people said ‘sulphur’ as they wrinkled their noses that we knew it was probably either electrical or organic. Mike ruled out the batteries and the anode in the hot water heater. The bilge is squeaky clean right now. You can stick your head down there and you won’t get that sulphur smell. You’ll get the smell of old fiberglass with only a slight whiff of eu de bilge.

Finally last week one of my clients who is sensitive to lots of things, including but not limited to people’s auric fields, ghostly visitors, etc, came on board for a coaching session. Turns out, her nose is awesome. Soon as she stepped into the cockpit she crinkled her sensitive little nose, and said, ‘What’s that sulfurous smell?’.  Ahhhh. A ‘smells detective’ had dropped into my very lap.

Knowing a good resource when I stumble upon it, I engaged with her in that most primitive way: through the sense of smell. ‘Wander around the boat!’, I said, quivering hopefully. ‘Tell me what you smell and where you smell it!’, I said, opening the doors to the engine room. “Follow your sweet little nose directly to the source!”. I was positively expansive in my opening of cabinet doors.

She closed her eyes and sniffed, walking slowly on the port side of the boat, turning her head this way and that, stooping to investigate a space. She stuck her head in the engine room. ‘That’s just diesel.’, she said, dismissively. Standing in the area of the galley by the fridge, she spread her arms wide and declared the smell to be emanating from that specific area. We had our session, then retired to the cockpit to sniff further.

Just a really pretty little boat on the Foss Waterway. I can’t take a photo of the bad smell.

As an interesting aside, this person also sees a ghost on our boat. Apparently his name is Thomas. Fine by me. He seems a friendly sort and we may be able to use him on those long night passages where we get sleep deprived. Corporeal or no, I’ll take all the help we can get. During our session her eyes kept darting toward the port side of the boat. Upon my inquiry of what she was seeing there, she described a dark shadow in the air and asked if I saw it. Usually it’s Thomas she would be seeing, but this time it wasn’t. Well, I have to say that I did not see it, but then I don’t have the level of ‘gift’ that she does. Sulphur. Dark shadowy stuff. Brings up some pretty archetypal images, no? I wondered if she was seeing the smell visually.  (Note: my client is not a weirdo. She is a professional woman who is intelligent and fun but sees many things other people do not. That’s sometimes a burden for her. I’ve known her for many years.)

Following her nose into the cockpit and then off the boat, she turned and confirmed that yes, the smell was coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the mid-port side of the boat and it was organic in nature. I thanked her nose for its service, said farewell,  and stood staring at that side of the boat.

What could it possibly be? There is nothing ‘organic’ on that side of the boat. The fridge is fairly new and doesn’t leak. The cabinets in the galley do not smell. There was no plumbing on that side except for the deck drains. The grey cells began firing. The deck drains. That one deck drain that stood proud of the deck surface where no water would flow down into it; keeping it rinsed clean. What if?

I leaned in, put my nose close and gave a big sniff. Bingo! Disgusting sulfurous smell! Maybe we had our culprit! And thus, that deck drain was taken out and replaced that very day. Afterward I mixed up some baking soda solution, took the hose and flushed fresh water down the drain, then followed up with the baking soda and water.

The next day I came to the boat and there was no smell. I stuck my nose in the drain and sniffed. It smelled fresh and just fine. Today is day three and still, no smell.

The starboard side of the boat where the head tank is located. No smell here. Thank goodness.

Time will tell if we have solved this case, but the prospects are good. We’ve never gone three days without smelling the thing. My hypothesis is that with the drain standing too high above the deck to do any good, organic material could still fall down into it, but would never be rinsed out. Likewise, some small creature could have gone up into the thru hull and died, then with no water coming in, his remains would have….remained. Seawater will be in the drain up to a certain point, and unless the drain is rinsed regularly, bacteria will grow and smell putrid, just as salt water standing in your holding tank hoses will putrify and smell bad.

Hydrogen sulfide is heavier than air, so it’s going to waft slowly. Our boat is almost always pointed into the wind in this marina, and the deck drain is slightly in front and to port of the cockpit entrance. The gas could easily get concentrated in the cockpit where it would have no way to dissipate and would then be drawn down into the cabin by way of the companionway door.  Hydrogen sulfide gas is detectable to the nose in very small quantities.  In large quantities it is dangerous. But ours was less danger than stink.

We’ve stuck our noses in every other drain on board, including the cockpit drains, and they are all fine. That’s the only one that smelled bad. So we are really hopeful that this is it.

Next time my client comes on board, I’m going to ask her about that dark patch in the air. Is it gone?  If not, I’m going to need to hire myself a ghost buster.

 

Win or Lose, It’s A Cheap Boat Trick

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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.