when one door closes (project: fix companionway door)

When I bought the boat the door was actually broken into two pieces. Gluing them together was my first little epoxy project. Although it isn't pretty, that repair has held fast despite the door being blown out of my hands and thrown across the cockpit a few times by high winds. However, after over a year I still hadn't gotten around to hanging the door back on its hinges. Most sailboats seem to have drop boards, but mine has a hinged door which I mostly treat like a big drop board. No one else can ever get it seated quite right, and if I rent the boat out to go have an adventure, I think the door ought to be properly installed.

What's the problem? The holes for the hinge screws had been worn out and someone else's prior attempts to fill and re-drill were beyond their useful life. The plan has been to drill holes quite a bit larger than the hinge screw diameter, then fill them with epoxy and wooden plugs. I bought 3/8" plugs which are 1 1/2" long. I wanted enough new wood for the screws to bite, but didn't want to drill all the way through the door. I used a hack saw to cut the plugs in half. Thirds probably would have been just right, but tough to do with a hack saw and hindsight is 20/20.

Above are photos of the upper and lower holes before and then the upper one part-way through the process. I used three different drill bits, working my way up to 3/8" as I drilled out the old holes. This was my first time using my new Dewalt cordless drill that was a gift from my Amazon wish list from a very supportive reader and friend. There are a lot of drills out there to choose from, but I really like this one because when I had used a similar one it was smaller than most drills and so a better fit for my smaller hands and for fitting into tight spaces aboard. A big, heavy drill may be fine for quick projects, but for jobs like removing the old boat name, that took several hours a day for several days, having a smaller, lighter-weight drill made a big difference in comfort for my arm. I bought a titanium bit set, so I should be able to drill through anything but concrete!

I have some standard West System epoxy kits--small batch sets of resin and hardener--but had already opened some West System G/Flex when trying to patch the dinghy, so figured I should use up the G/Flex. It mixes in a simple 1:1 ratio. I used the empty yogurt cup from breakfast for a mixing bowl. I put a dollop of epoxy into each hole and then used a wooden hammer for cracking crabs to hammer in the plugs.

I still had a lot of G/Flex I could use and--always looking for a way to put off my 16-mile training run--decided to tackle the dry-rotted threshold that I dug out last Thanksgiving and had planned to seal with Git Rot. The gaping hole had simply been covered with blue painter's tape all this time, but once I had dug out that dry rot and taped it over, the leaks onto the nav station and galley counter during rain storms had stopped. I poured a bunch of epoxy into the threshold and then decided it really needed to be thicker. I added thickening powder to get a more peanut-butter-like consistency. There was a through-and-through at the starboard side of the threshold, so I smushed as much epoxy that way as I could and then cut a couple small pieces of fiberglass cloth and painted epoxy over them to create a patch.

When I stuck my head back inside the boat I noticed big globs of epoxy were dripping from the threshold and onto my printer at the nav station. Oopsy! If the rain had been getting in that way, I guess the epoxy would too. Wish I had thickened it up more from the outset. I cut a couple more pieces of fiberglass cloth and used them to create patches along the leaking seams. Once the epoxy began to set, the dripping subsided and the patches sealed up.

I didn't realize that the hardened epoxy drips would be razor sharp. I sliced the back of my hand when reaching below the threshold to flip breakers on the electrical panel. I'll go back over them with a file and sandpaper to smooth them out. The repairs may not look pretty, but if they buy me a few years before having to replace the entire door and frame, I'll be thrilled.

I'll want to fill the rest of the hole at the threshold with something. I'm still thinking about whether that will be more epoxy or some other sealant. Of course, it would be nice to cut a piece of wood to fit into the space and not just have some random hole there. But for now, function is more important than form.

Function and fun simply outweigh form and formality. It will likely always be that way in my world. I've never been much of a housekeeper and doubt that's going to change any time soon. But my bar tends to be well-stocked and good eats are a-plenty in my galley. I think good food, drink, and conversation far outweigh fancy cushions and spotless varnish.

Just be careful when you reach to flip the breakers.

five months and counting

This past Saturday marked five months living aboard. I must not have been focused on that mini-milestone since it didn't occur to me until having dinner with friends who are soon-to-be-liveaboards and I asked "Is today the 2nd?" Indeed, it was, they confirmed.

That is one of the challenges I face living aboard and not having a traditional Monday-through-Friday office job: the days rather blend together. Instead of Mondays and Tuesdays I think in terms of "the day the tide was really low," "the day it never stopped raining," or "the day I filled the water tank." I guess that's not entirely fair, since I do remember certain days of the week have a great food or drink special at this or that local pub or eatery. I couldn't care less about the Wednesday night sailboat races, but I sure do love the "Wednesday night race tacos" at The Boatyard during the season. And just as the days seem to blend together, the day often passes by as I clickity-clack on my laptop unaware of the day slipping into night because my port lights are all covered with insulation. Thus, I tend to have a day or two a week where I don't head ashore to shower until five or six in the evening, and sometimes, like today, simply shower and get right back in my jammies. Like boaters who don't admit running aground, liveaboards who deny they have days like this are simply lying.

But Sunday was quite the event going for a mini-cruise across the creek. I had spoken with someone at a local marina and he agreed to let me bring my boat over to get pumped out as they made the rounds to their liveaboards. The City of Annapolis treats its liveaboard community like dirt so the city's pumpout boat "breaks" early and often. Even if it wasn't "broken" I trust the city would winterize it as long as possible rather than at least breaking winterization once a week to service the many, many liveaboards who stay through the winter here. Many of those liveaboards shrinkwrap their boats to keep snow off the decks and aid in insulation, so even if a dockside pump-out station was open those boats could not get to it. Why does it matter? Well it's all kinds of illegal to just pump overboard. I've heard the fine is $5,000. And, you know, it's kind of wrong and all. But have no illusion, the minor amount of waste boaters might dump into the Bay is pretty much de minimus. The runoff from chicken farms on the Eastern Shore is the culprit for the Bay's pollution. And when storm water causes the waste treatment plants to overflow into the Bay... sigh.  But despite science and reality the liveaboards are scapegoated and get constant wagging fingers about how important it is not to pump overboard. Too bad local, state, and federal government show virtually no interest in making year-round, publicly accessible pump out facilities available (whether dockside stations, pump-out boats, or pump-out trucks) so that complying with the law was not an amazing pain-in-the-ass. So, I was jumping up and down ecstatic at the prospect of cruising over to a marina that has a golf cart with a giant shit-sucking vacuum on it to pump out the boat.

A friend brought his daughter along for the "cruise" and we worked on departure preparations, including disconnecting the shore power and cable and removing the dog ramp, and even tried to start the engine. I wanted to be as prepared as possible before my friend who helps me captain the boat arrived; I am always on "Miami time," i.e., 15 minutes late, so I wanted to have things ready to go for once. But the engine wasn't starting right up and I wasn't sure how much throttle to give it to get it to turn over. For an hour he didn't have much luck either. I had been a bad, bad diesel owner and hadn't started it up in two and half months. Diesels hate the cold and hate to sit. I should be starting the engine and letting it run a little weekly. The four of us crossed our fingers, said little prayers, begged and pleaded, but the engine smoked and sputtered. I was close to giving up but headed below to make coffee for the older folks and cocoa for my friend's daughter. At last the engine turned over and we all jumped and clapped, and I gave a huge sigh of relief. Here we were on a blustery Sunday morning, winds blowing 15 to 20 knots, occasional snowflakes falling, but warming our hands with mugs of coffee or cocoa and off for a pump-out cruise across Back Creek!

It was great to have all of us aboard. My friend's daughter is great with the pup dog, so she was in charge of getting pup to the bow or back to the cockpit and keeping an eye on her. One friend at the helm while two of us handled lines was handy on arrival and essential when we managed to turn around in the fairway so that we could leave the dock moving forward. Reverse has much less maneuverability and we needed as much control as possible with the winds blowing us toward other boats.

I only took the helm for a short jaunt on the return. The winds were something to contend with and I still get nervous when I get particularly close to boats that look like they exceed my insurance policy limits. Over on Spa Creek I expect there were many boats out for the frostbite races, but I only spotted one other boat (also a sailboat under power) transiting Back Creek.

When we returned the tide had fallen enough that we couldn't get the boat far back enough in the slip to re-attach the dog ramp. For a couple of days the pup had to be lifted on and off, a precarious undertaking. She knows I'm not really strong enough to lift her securely and balks. At one point I had to sit, pull her onto my lap, and then lower her down to the boat. Even now that I have the boat closer the ramp keeps falling off as the boat shifts in the wind and tides. I am going to need to relocate the ramp and modify the solution so that it remains more stable.

After lunch we took a look at the shroud where I suspected a bad leak. When we pulled up the cover to see the chainplate connection through the toe rail, we discovered what looks to be plenty of dry rot. This cold and damp time of year is not ideal for addressing these problems, but at least some stop gap measures would be better than nothing. To use Git-Rot one really should dig out all the rot and get the area dry. That simply isn't possible right now. We went ahead and mixed the Git-Rot and started pouring it down beside the chainplate.

 

The void would seem to fill, then drain, fill, then drain. It drank up the entire batch. We topped off the remaining gaps with 3M 4200 sealant/adhesive and then coated the cover as well. We weren't really sure if that was the source of the leak, but it certainly needed attention and will get more thorough remediation in the Spring. A half hour later I looked over at the area on the cabin sole where the leak would manifest and lo and behold, the Git-Rot was coming out. I may not know the path that leak is taking behind the scenes, but at least now I know the beginning and end points. It's ironic how love of the water brings us to our boats, but the water quickly becomes the enemy we constantly battle to keep outside!

What's the moral of the story in this post? I guess that even when the weather is cold, windy, and gray, even when engines sputter and leaks abound, any time you can cast off the lines with good company is a good day. Living aboard is a challenge, nothing is easy, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

making moves

A terrible cold side-lined me for a week, causing me to miss a marathon (which was also to serve as a final long training run for the upcoming 50K). Friends warned me to be particularly careful about the cold now that I live aboard; being in a cold, damp boat can turn a cold into "a quick cab ride to pneumonia" as one friend put it. Now that I feel mostly recovered, I am under the gun to catch up on the many, many projects before me.

One useful exercise I did work on while nursing my cold was a list of all the fixes and upgrades I need or want to make on the boat. There are over fifty entries on the list so far (from small items like changing to LED light bulbs to larger projects like removing and re-bedding all the chain plates). Project Gitrot is in a holding pattern at the moment due to a few wet days and considering whether the rot is simply too extensive to fill and a new mahogany threshold should be installed instead. Only a few days away from two months' aboard, I would really like to have my propane stove and oven up and running as soon as possible, and will try to push that to the forefront in the next couple of days. It seems like a simple enough exercise, but never having even used a gas grill before, I have a healthy fear of making any mistakes with the propane, so this is a project I want some help with.

So far this week has brought some big changes. On Monday I sold my Honda Element. It was, as the floppy-haired sailor had put it, my only asset of any real value. It is very hard to be in such financial straits that I have to sell my car to pay the bills, eat, and make some core boat repairs. But such is life. I reconciled myself to it, and was lucky to have a friend who helped me get through the process quickly, maximize my sale price, and move on.

On Tuesday I signed the lease for my new slip. I am very excited to move! I have the slip as of January 1, but am hopeful the owner will let me come over a little early and get settled in. We'll only be four blocks from our current marina, so still able to enjoy being within walking distance of so much and still have the sense of neighborhood Eastport offers. No long icy docks to walk down; just a short stroll to the bathhouse; currently no competition for the bathhouse; nice grassy lawn for pup dog to play (and piddle); a longer finger dock that may allow me to use the actual boarding gate rather than tying the lifelines back; a better shore power set up; almost certainly an easier in and out of the slip so I can use the boat more; a quiet, scenic view.

On Wednesday I bought my new-to-me car, a clay-colored Buick Century. Where my Honda was hippy-dippy, covered with bumper stickers, and let everyone in town know where I was, the new car is entirely under the radar. I am already loving the car. Big comfy seats, an easy, smooth ride. A huge trunk to use as a dock box. I had the car detailed so I'll feel like I am starting fresh. Now I need to remove the couple of stickers on it with a blade and some WD-40, load it up, and cover the back seat for pup dog to chill.

Today I have a friend coming by to look at some boat issues and hopefully help me identify parts I need to purchase. Tonight is the marathon training group party; it will be great to see some friends I haven't seen much of (or at all) in the past couple of months, but bittersweet that I missed my marathon on Saturday.

Here's another of my neighbors. He hung out all morning catching fish.

Life aboard is very different than being ashore. But at the same time, it is often just different versions of the same things we once had on land. Instead of deer and fox in my yard, I have heron and otters. Instead of mowing a lawn, I scrub the decks. And, to my great chagrin, instead of the damn gumballs from the sycamore all over my deck and yard, I have bird poop all over the deck from those damn birds perching on my spreaders.

project: git-rot (day 1)

I noticed a small scuffed up, deteriorating spot at the threshold into the cabin not long after moving aboard. The area gradually became larger and I was concerned about the integrity of the wood. One day I showed it to the floppy-haired sailor guy and asked for his diagnosis. He dug around at it a bit and the wood just fluffed off. Diagnosis: dry rot. Prescription: "Git"-Rot. I did not get instructions for cleaning the wound or applying the medicine, but on my little shopping list went "Git-Rot" and when I was at the local marine supply I specifically sought it out.

Today, a few weeks later, I began Project "Git"-Rot. A few days ago a friend had looked at it and used a dull knife to test the extent of the damage--significant. The likely source of leaks down the bulkhead at the navigation desk/electrical panel and galley. I was advised to dig as much out as possible before filling it.

 

I began digging out the rot and initially planned to throw away what was being removed. Then I read the product instructions. While I knew that the area should be as dry as possible and to use a spike or drill to put holes in the areas around the rot for the epoxy to fill, I did not realize that sawdust or the shredded rotted wood needed to be used as filler in order to maintain the contour of the wood piece. I began to save the shredded wood and what was wet was set aside to be dried.

I also learned that the product is a two-part epoxy that must be used within 20 minutes of mixing and that it may heat up so much within 20 minutes that the plastic container actually melts. Not quite sure how I am supposed to dispose of it if the bottle is subject to melting right in my hands. 

 

I used a table knife, spoon, and large and small needle-nose pliers to work at the rotted wood and try to get it all out. Based on the angles of access and the extent and location of leaks, I am concerned I won't be able to reach all the rotted areas. I may drill holes in the threshold to allow hidden areas to be filled. As you can see, the rot went all the way through the side of the door frame. I'm not sure how to protect the fiberglass from the epoxy that I need to have spread all the way through that hole.

With sunset approaching and knowing the wood was too wet to undertake the application of the epoxy today, I covered the holes with blue tape to try to keep extra moisture from the night's frost out. I will likely try using a hair dryer to help dry the wood before applying the epoxy in the next couple of days. (To be continued...)