Tag Archives: Boat refit

Good Boat!

Posted on by

We know you’ve been dying to find out how the engine performed on our trip; how that exhaust elbow stood up. Did Mike and Melissa do boat work in exotic places in British Columbia? Did the Little Cunning Plan team have to use their new unlimited towing through Boat U.S.? Did Mike perseverate on the exhaust system?  The answers are yes, no, and yes. Two yesses and a no, because we are resourceful and do our best to be prepared.

Scenes like this make boat travel worth the risk.

In this case, I was dead anxious about taking this boat very far from home with an exhaust system that was sure to fail…sometime. On the other hand, we had been taking the boat out in our local waters as much as we could, and thus far the stupid exhaust had held its ground. Which means it wasn’t broke, so why would we fix it? Still, even as we wanted to believe that it would hold for a long time, we weren’t convinced.

“What’s our Plan B?” , I asked Mike before we left.  So he made a plan. He’s cunning like that.

Before we left for the trip he stocked a repair kit of sorts consisting of supplies he got at the auto parts store. He bought a fiberglass/epoxy and wire muffler repair kit. To this he added a steel collar that could be bolted onto the pipe to hold pieces together should things go south. My contribution was a magnifying glass and a lot of praying. Our goal: have as much fun as possible before the shit hits the fan and also keep Hiram safe. 

Don’t think that my light tone implies that we didn’t take the risks seriously. We certainly did. But if you are going to have a boat and do the things we like to do with a boat, calculated risks are part of that equation. We figured we would be pushing the engine and the exhaust system pretty hard on that trip. If it failed, we’d just get it repaired wherever we were. If it didn’t fail, then we would stop worrying about it.

I had my little magnifying glass out each day, examining the weld all the way around. Days went by and I saw nothing. Then one day I thought I saw what looked like a fine pencil marking, so faint I couldn’t tell if I was actually seeing it. I talked myself out of telling Mike, thinking that it was nothing, truly not even sure it was there. That’s how faint it was, and how bad my eyes are, I guess. Mike checked with his bare eyeballs every day, or every few hours actually. We were both attentive to engine noise, always waiting for something to change. It sounds worse than it was. We just kept part of our brains in that ‘awareness’ mode you all know and love. Kind of like when you first bring a baby home and every time you walk by the crib you make sure the kid is breathing. That kind of thing.

View from under the hard dodger.

It happened when we were anchored at that lovely little beach on Kuper Island, about two days after I thought I saw what I thought wasn’t actually there. It was a Sunday. Mike went below and this time his silence just sounded different. You know, no cursing or anything like we’d had before. Just this silence that was deafening in its own way. I don’t know how I knew. I just knew.

It was cracked in the same place. Not completely broken yet, but soon it would be. Of course, we were pretty close to services where we were. There would be Ladysmith just across the water, Sidney wasn’t very far, and Maple Bay has services a well. We were not exactly in the middle of nowhere. There was a couple on a Cal 29 anchored close by who offered us the use of their car on Salt Spring Island if we needed it. We probably could have just had it fixed there. But we didn’t.

View from Sidney Spit

Mike whipped out the epoxy/fiberglass tape bandage and wrapped the thing carefully. I put on the receiving wire, which was kind of like jewelry wire only heavier so my hands knew what to do. When the epoxy cured, Mike put on the steel collar for extra holding power.

Our original travel itinerary had us going north of Gabriola Island and sailing down the Strait of Georgia. I felt strongly that karma would not deal kindly with us if we threw fortune in her face like that. It just felt like pushing our luck. So I kind of sort of insisted that we go south and start back home. We wouldn’t go home early, but we would stay close to services should we need them. Poor Mike. I felt as though I had rained on his very parade. We would have actually made it to someplace we hadn’t been before. We so want to go further north. But it was not to be.

Staged for purposes of photo because Mike had already removed it once.

Staged for purposes of photo because Mike had already removed it by the time I remembered a photo was needed.

We sailed down to Portland Island, using the engine as little as possible. Hey, babying your engine is a great way to practice your sailing skills. When we had the engine on we kept him at just the right RPM to minimize vibration. I love Portland Island, and we had a great day of sailing. So that was okay by us. We had the perfect anchorage there and settled in for a couple of days.

After our Portland Island stay, we had just enough time for a stop in Sidney to restock, then it was time to get home. We check in to Roche Harbor and began the trip back to Tacoma, again, sailing as much as possible. But damn that thing called a ‘job’, we did have a deadline for making it back.  So Hiram was fired up much of the way. Mike tested the integrity of the exhaust elbow constantly. If it was cool enough to the touch, he was testing it.  It held and held and held.

We arrived in Tacoma on Sunday afternoon after a wonderful, fulfilling trip to the islands. We docked that boat perfectly. We got her tied up and situated while the engine cooled off. Mike went below to check on Hiram. And the elbow broke. It broke all the way, as in ‘two pieces’. I am not making this up. That boat got us home with a cracked exhaust all the way from Kuper Island. It didn’t actually break in two until we were snugly, safely in our slip in the marina. Hiram was safe.

Good boat. Really good boat.

A really Good Boat.

 

Exhaust Elbow Blues, Reprise

Posted on by

Raise your hand if you thought we would have some trouble with that exhaust set up on Galapagos during our recent shake down trip from Astoria, Oregon to Tacoma.  Yeah, don’t gloat. Because our hands are raised, too.  If you’ve been following the Drama of the Exhaust System, you’ll recall that we had a fancy new engine exhaust pipe made to fit the boat because we were worried that water would back up into the engine, drowning Hiram and making us dead sad. If you are new to this series, read about that here and here to catch up with the rest of us.

The new pipe fit like it was made for Galapagos because, duh, it WAS made for Galapagos to the tune of (Put coffee mug down here) an amount of money that is very large.  When you pay several hundred dollars for a specially machined piece, you kind of think things would be right but that’s where you would be wrong.

Freshly installed and wrapped. This tape turned out to be really good.

From the get go, Mike was concerned about the weld holding the new piece of metal pipe to the flange that was used to attach the thing to the Beta. It just didn’t seem that the piece had enough support to keep that particular joint intact but the mechanic who fashioned the piece assured us that it would be fine. We wanted to believe him because we really were anxious to turn the page on that chapter of the refit. The pipe was pretty. It fit nicely. The kid who made it was a nice kid. Hiram hummed along perfectly well. Mike added rubber washers to the support on the right, wrapped the thing in insulating tape, and vowed to keep his critical eye on it. We figured it would eventually be a problem but we wanted to get going bringing Galapagos up to Tacoma. What could possibly go wrong?

All was well until we were anchored in Bellingham Bay ready to visit our son Andrew for a couple of days. Mike had been doing his usual checks in the engine room and I could tell by the cut of his jib something was amiss. Then the cursing began. It’s always quiet, but it sounds even worse that way and after the time he found water in our new engine’s oil, whenever I hear silent cursing coming from the engine room, I have a post traumatic experience. He found that the weld had separated just where he’d been concerned it would, and what was holding the pipe together was the insulating tape. And because of  the leak, the exhaust gases were now allowing water to make its way back toward the engine! Oy. When we examined the broken weld, we saw that the piece had been butt-welded, not beveled or supported in any way. Sheesh. Do we need to learn to weld in order to see that things are done right?

You can see the complete break in the middle of the photo. Ouch.

You can see the complete break in the middle of the photo. Ouch.

He removed the tape, which was black on the inside from engine exhaust. The pipe was in two separate pieces. Mike attempted a temporary fix using high temperature silicon tape but the gas pressure made that fix very temporary. There was nothing for it but to get the thing repaired. I held my breath as he checked the engine oil. No water. Praise the powers that be. Hiram was safe. Another bullet dodged; another withdrawal from the Kitty of Karma. We better start making some deposits there.

These are the times that try the souls of boat owners and we feel extremely lucky that this happened in Bellingham when we were safely anchored and had access to a car and services.  Really, life was incredibly good just then and no stinking exhaust pipe was going to ruin our time. Mike thought we might be stuck in Bellingham with the exhaust system blues for a few days. I can think of worse places to be. Andrew rescued us with his car and he and Mike carefully rowed the piece to shore. 

Mike took the piece to a place he had called (thank you, Iphone), and they referred him to someone else, etc. By the following day he had located Chad Peterson of Peterson’s Welding and Fabrication.  After consulting with Chad (our new best friend)  we left the parts with him and spent our waiting time purchasing aluminum stock and doing some other fun things we’ll write about later. It was a good day, one that made us look forward to being retired and having time to just go with the flow.

Mike planned to use the aluminum stock to make new support struts and called our loyal mechanic, Shawn, who had also been a little concerned with the exhaust pipe installation. Thankfully he is very responsive at picking up the phone when Mike calls. You’d think he’d be tired of hearing from us by now. He had some good ideas to add to Mike’s good ideas and a plan was formed.

Shawn maintained that the pipe needed to vibrate in time with the engine vibration and therefore needed to be supported by struts that were attached to the engine. That made sense to us. Hell, what do we know?  So in addition to beveling and welding the pipe, Michael asked Chad to add a cross brace with holes in it to create a more stable geometric form that would also provide landing points for the new support struts. That way the pipe and the engine could both sing the same song.

In deep mano a mano consultation with Chad. The amount of testosterone in this workshop was mind boggling. I had to get some fresh air.

A few hours later we picked up the newly welded piece. This time the two parts were beveled to allow a greater amount of surface area to be welded. We can only hope. It all looked great (just like it did last time… just saying) so we paid Chad less than I thought it would be and returned to the boat. These kinds of things are why I still work.

Mike tests the tensile strength of the finished piece. He is pleased.

Installed and ready for new supports. There is so much more structural integrity just with the crosspiece added. Geometry, people. Geometry. Live and learn.

Back at the man cave aboard Galapagos Mike created two support struts for this piece of metal art we call an exhaust ‘elbow’ and found places to attach them to the engine. We had picked up some aluminum flat and angled stock while waiting for Chad to work his magic. Without shore power, Mike was limited in how much actual cutting and drilling he could do to build the struts and aluminum is much easier to work with than steel. He also decided that he would leave the insulating tape for later so he could keep a close eye on the thing. A very close eye.

We left that afternoon and spent a lovely evening at little Eliza Island, just an hour from Bellingham. Everything was holding thus far. We know this because every time I looked up Mike had his head in that engine room, gimlet eye focused narrowly on Hiram’s elbow.

Two supports. He may put in a third one but this is it for now.

Two supports. Notice one is a flat piece and one is an angled piece. There will be a test on this information later.

The following day we had a long motorboat ride with some minor sailing down Rosario Strait. The pipe had plenty of opportunity to break if it was going to do so right away. All went well and we pulled into Griffon Bay to spend the evening, planning to cross the strait the following day.

I’d like to say that this was the end of the story, but alas, our karma doesn’t work like that in this instance. This sentence is what is known, in literary terms as ‘foreshadowing’, a term which, as used here, means ‘giving a broad hint about things to come’.

We had a lovely sail across the strait the next morning, ending up amazed at how much distance this boat can travel in a day compared to Moonrise and how it can do 12 knots around Wilson Point and never even think about surfing. Speed demons!  We motored some, but sailed more and still had record speed in the crossing, for us. We made it to the south end of Whidbey Island before anchoring for the night in the currents of Useless Bay.

Anchored in Useless Bay.

We had more sailing on the final leg of the trip. In all, we sailed a good part of this trip from Astoria to home. Even so, one of the supports turned out to be a sacrificial piece. The day after we pulled into our slip at Foss Harbor, Mike was doing his thing checking all things Hiram in the engine room. I heard that small little cursing I’m beginning to know so well. 

Oh yeah. The flat piece of stock sacrificed itself on the alter of vibration for the sins of the exhaust elbow. It took the load and the load broke its back. Pause for that moment of silence.

We have some more ideas about how to solve this problem but we want another pair of eyes to take a look so Mike will be busy finding someone in the Tacoma area who can give us another opinion. Looking at the system as it’s set up, it seems to us that on the right (in the photos) the rubber piece that connects the pipe to the water muffler serves to absorb the shock of the vibration. There is no such piece on the left, and this is too bad. Even if the thing vibrates in time with the engine, there is too much vibration for it to hold for long.

My idea was to have the thing cut into two pieces again, take part of the rigid pipe out, and insert a rubber piece on the left side. That would surely absorb the vibration on that side. Mike says that’s not an appropriate place for a piece of rubber. I believe him because, again, what do I know? But surely there is an equivalent piece in the world of metals? He says there is. So our current thinking is along those lines. At any rate, now that the engine has some hours on it (82 to be exact) Mike wants to have the alignment rechecked by yet another diesel mechanic. At that point we can discuss the elbow and see if we can somehow design a system that will let us sleep at night.

So for now, we take it easy with the engine until we can get this issue resolved, again. That’s okay. It just encourages us to raise the sails.

This makes it all worthwhile.

This makes it all worthwhile.

Dessert First!

Posted on by
20140608_15

Detaching the rode from the chain.

This weekend Mike and I had an epiphany. We’re both in our ’50s and it is only now clear to us that our mothers were completely wrong. Also wrong were all the nutrition ‘experts’, doctors, school teachers, Mrs. Kravitz, and any other so-called ‘authority’  or rule-lover who insisted that dessert be eaten only at the end of a meal. Eating dessert at the end of a meal is a risky business. While you are busy filling up on broccoli and brussels sprouts with broiled chicken on the side all the desserts are being enjoyed by people smarter than you who know how to go out and have fun. We will become those people beginning next weekend.

If you think I’m really talking about food, you haven’t been reading this blog for very long. I forgive you. I’m talking about sailing and the fact that we haven’t been having any lately. And why is that? Because we are both hard-working American oldest children, that’s why. We work with almost religious zeal. You’d think we would be raptured at any moment. This must stop. If getting out on the water is the dessert of life, and I reckon it must be if we’re willing to work this hard for it, then we’re going to start eating that first and saving the work for later.

Here’s how these weekends go: Drive to Astoria on Friday night, commence working on S/V Nameless. Drop into bed around 11:00, asleep before hitting the hay. Mike gets up early on Saturday morning and commences to work again. Melissa gets up slightly later and also commences to work. Coffee is made and imbibed. Someone makes breakfast, the only meal of the day that is actually attended to. Work continually Saturday, noticing the sunshine and warm temperatures. Try to ignore it. Go to bed only when the body literally will not obey commands anymore. Repeat on Sunday, by which time the body is screaming in protest (especially the hands. Oy vey. The hands, they do hurt.) Work until almost dinner time, then load the car with this week’s projects and drive home for 3 hours. Feel greenly envious of people who were on the water today.

We had the idea that this weekend we would do work on Saturday, then leave Sunday to go out on the River and play with the boat. Work first, play later. Sounds good in theory. But the ‘play later’ never happened. Here is why:

It’s a little hard to leave the dock with this happening on deck. Mike removed all the chain form the chain locker so we could look it over. This is on our list of ‘must do’s’ before leaving Astoria for Puget Sound. Turns out that the longest chain, which is at least 300 feet, is actually in great condition. The shorter one, which was attached to rope rode, is the iffy one. So he removed the shorter chain and we’ll have that checked out. The anchor and chain on the boat are ready to go. Down below, I was faced with this:

The anchor locker was filthy. With all the chain and rode removed, this was the perfect time to get it cleaned and painted, a job that took better than half the day. Now it looks like this. Got to love Bilge Kote. I won’t bore you with the washing, sanding, and painting. I already lived it once. Why should I make you suffer? Notice that ugly net? This divides the anchor locker into two spaces and ostensibly it keeps one chain from infringing on another. It may have worked well before, but we’re not impressed now. Mike will be redesigning the interior of this space in the future. For now he put Dri Deck at the bottom of the locker to keep air circulating and keep the chain from marring my pretty painted finish. With anchors and chains off the boat, Mike was able to get to the anchor rollers. They are aluminum. Who knew? He removed them, cleaned them up, and lubricated all moving parts. . 

While I worked on the anchor locker, Mike was working on installing the fuel gauge. He was not having a good time. The hole was slightly larger than it needed to be and he’d planned to buy some Star Board at Englund’s. Problem is they’ve never heard of Star Board there. We are unimpressed with that marine store overall. They rarely have what we’re looking for. He spent enough time on this project that he actually got pretty frustrated. Enough said.

Not going anywhere with a cockpit looking like this.

While he was cursing in the cockpit, I did some sewing below. I’ve been working on cushion covers for the salon settees. This is not on our list of ‘required’ things to finish before we leave Astoria, but it’s a soothing project that I can do a little at a time. I have decided sewing these by hand is the best way since these are temporary covers. When we remodel the salon in the future, all will be replaced, so I’m doing these the fast, cheap, easy way. Basically they remain unfinished on the bottom side. That’s where the ‘cheap’ comes in. It saves fabric. I found this fabric for 5$ a yard, which is almost like stealing it. If I don’t have enough for the seat backs, I’ll just get a matching solid color. It’s a good thing I take photos or I wouldn’t be able to remember all the projects we have going on at once. Still waiting for the Bilge Kote to dry, Mike returned to his latest nemesis: the aft head. Recall we took about 30 feet of hose out of the engine room. Mike replaced that with some pvc pipe, connected with regular boat sanitation hose (to absorb vibration).  Finding a way to hook this up to the head itself in a tight space required some sharp turns. In the future we may move the head to the other side of the bathroom where the plumbing will be a straight shot into the oversized holding tank. But for now, we just need a completely plumbed head that dumps into a holding tank in order to be legal on the water. Our forward head goes directly overboard, so we’ll have to take that out of service and ziptie the seacock closed.  Check that off the list.

It’s said you can flush a raincoat down these. We will not be testing that theory.

In the future we’d like to get the bases for both heads sandblasted and let them go green. Industrial art. Perhaps walls of a pale tangerine would show these off well. With the head plumbed and the Bilge Kote dry, Mike returned chain and rode to the locker. While he did that, I began a cleaning project in the area around the aft head. Sometime in the past a previous owner decided that wallpaper and boats went well together. Maybe sometimes they do, but not in this boat, and not in a humid room like a head with a shower attached. I’ve known this was coming but take a look:

EWWWWWW! Just disgusting. There is no other way to say it. One hundred percent of the wall surfaces were covered with black mold behind the paper. Fortunately it was completely dry, having been there for a long time. I’ve been itching to get at this project because I knew it was there and it grossed me out. Since the head wasn’t plumbed we never used that bathroom, just passed through it. Now that we have a head we can use, I wanted it to be clean.

I ripped off all the paper, spraying the backing and walls with bleach water as I went to kill any spores. The paper was put on with what appeared to be standard wall paper paste, something that mold loves. It was the perfect medium, just one big petri dish. I sprayed down all the walls, scrubbed with bleach water with a drop of dishwashing soap, using a big green scrubby pad. That took off most of the black spots and revealed that the walls had been painted previous to papering them. I am going to repaint, so I got most of the black off, then got out my electric sander with dust collector. Masked, with the widow open, I commenced to sanding and the stuff zipped right off. I used the shower head to spray down the walls after wiping them down to take most of the remaining dust off. I’m almost finished with the removal of the nasty stuff. I still have to remove the paper behind the mirror and on the base cabinet. It’s not pretty, but it will do for now.

. 

In the middle of this, Mike re-routed the raw water vent from the engine. That only took a couple of hours. Meanwhile, the sun was shining. Sunday morning the wind was calm, the river looking almost welcoming. The boat was too ripped apart to do any kind of ‘going out’. In the car on the way home we made a pact of sorts. Next week if the weather is fine, which, in Astoria means that the wind is pretty calm and the river is not gnarly,  we will go out first, and then do our work after we’ve played for awhile. Perhaps we will also eat cake for breakfast.