A January to Remember

One down, one to go

January was quite the month!  In no particular order:

• Eolian's heat pump quit delivering heat.  It didn't take too long to determine why...  Tho the Freon pressure was acceptable when the compressor wasn't running, the suction side dropped to 0 psi when the compressor started.  We're nearly out of Freon!
  Clearly there is a leak, otherwise the Freon would still be in there.  The operative question is:  Is this a recent, big leak, or is this a long-term tiny leak?  The heat pump is about 5 years old, so I guess either is possible.
  I have ordered and have been delivered of a 5 lb container of the proper refrigerant, and a syringe full of leak-stop.  Now all I need is the opportunity to load those into the system.  But...
• Tho I am still recovering from the near-paralysis event I experienced late this summer, I had cataract surgery scheduled for January.  If you're not interested in this, skip ahead...
  A most interesting operation - takes about 15-20 minutes, and you are semi-conscious for the duration.  The room is darkened and you are staring into a bright light - you never really see the surgeon open your cornea, slide in an ultrasound probe that destroys your old lens and sucks out the pieces, and then slide in a new lens.  The anticipation is far worse than the operation.
  Here I am the day following - vision still a little cloudy and blurry - I was told to expect that.  But surprisingly, the view thru my new eye is quite different from my old one!  It is as if everything in my old eye is being viewed thru an amber/brownish filter.  Colors are much truer thru my new eye!  A huge and unanticipated advantage! 
  Other eye later in the month.  No more prescription sunglasses!  I can have Polaroid sunglasses!
• The heat exchanger in our gas furnace at our log cabin developed a leak - we could smell combustion products in the house when the wind blew.  It was under warranty, but the labor was going to be $1700.  Thankfully, the technician that confirmed the perforation of the heat exchanger assigned the cause to under-sized ductwork - ductwork that the technician's company had installed.  They agreed to eat the labor charges, as well as to modify the ductwork at their cost.  That was completed this week.
• Eolian's TV crapped out.  While we were watching it, it started to cycle thru red screen, blue screen, white screen, green screen, etc.  Nothing would break the cycle, including a last ditch bit of percussive maintenance.
  New TV ordered and installed last week.
• Tho it has less than 50,000 miles on it, the rebuilt engine that our Suburban's Previous Owner installed in it is obviously failing.  Aside from a defective valve lifter that randomly turns it into a 7-cylinder engine, it consumes a half a gallon of water for every tank of gasoline.  I have found and fixed all the leaks (there were many), but the water consumption continues.  I presume that the intake manifold is leaking into an intake runner (there's no water in the oil).  I have the receipts from the Previous Owner's engine - he got a Chevy long block for $1000 - that is an amazingly low price - apparently too low in fact.
  So the Suburban goes into the auto hospital for a new engine.  My son convinced me that I should save myself for working on the classics in the shop:  65 Mustang, 68 GTO, and the current project, 1959 Impala. So somebody else gets to wrangle this one.
• Oh, and I figured out how to make my Sailrite LSZ-1 sew successfully with Tenara thread...

And it's worth remembering, the month isn't over yet...

A January to Remember

Silicone, again

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might remember my declaring my absolute hatred for silicone rubber.  Our Previous Owner loved the stuff - he slathered it everywhere.  He even used it to glue stuff to Eolian's vinyl headliner.  I removed the various things, but try as I might, I was unable to remove the silicone from the vinyl without damaging it, creating a bigger problem than I was solving.

Years went by.

And then Drew reviewed a product: Re.Mov.It, aka DSR-5.  (Sorry Drew, I can't find the reference in your blog)...

I ordered some:

Holy cow!  This stuff actually works!

OK, it doesn't actually dissolve the silicone (I don't think anything would do that). But what it does do is soften it and swell it, making it easy to scrape off.

I applied it using the end of a paper napkin, wiping it on the silicone over and over.  And then I lowered my thumbnail and continued to wipe back and forth, scraping the silicone as well as wetting it.  The silicone came right off!

I need to mention again that previously I had actually reached the point of damage to the naugahyde headliner in trying to remove the silicone...  and now it's gone!

If you have a Previous Owner like ours, you need this stuff!

Silicone, again

On The Opening Of Ports

One of Eolian's two Previous Owners outfitted her opening ports with curtains.  In order to hang them, he used an extruded aluminum curtain track that was available at the time - the same track, as a matter of fact, that the factory used to hang the shower curtains in the heads.  But on two of the aft cabin ports, the installed track interfered with an overhead beam, preventing the complete opening of the ports.  (These are not the original curtains; they are the curtains that Jane made back in 1989, one of her "make the boat mine" projects.)

Original setup only opens part way

Unfortunately, the only fittings available at the time for attaching the curtain extrusions were these (now rusty) steel spring clips, which he installed by wiring them to the port hinges.

Rusty steel attachment clip, wired on

While making a recent Sailrite order (I must do a post on this wonderful company sometime soon!), I found that they carried three forms of the curtain track:

• one like the ones used on Eolian,
• one designed for mounting to a vertical surface,
• and one designed for mounting to a horizontal surface.

It was the last one of these that caught my eye.  With a little modification, a piece of this track could be used to mount the curtain track to the port in a much lower position...  that would allow the ports to open quite a bit further!  So I included a piece of this track in that order.

A little work with a hacksaw cut two pieces of tracks to length, and then removed the mounting flange from their ends so that they could be mounted to the port lens:

Hacksaw hack

Then I drilled holes in the track flange and matching holes in the port lens.  Using a couple of 3/4" 6-32 SS screws and nylock nuts, I attached the track to the under side of the top flange of the port lens:

Better than a wired-on rusty steel clip

The port now opens almost completely!

Open wide!

Look Ma!  No wires!

And yes, it looks a lot better.  Eolian has six more ports for which this treatment should be done, tho none of them have overhead interferences... doing the work would only serve to improve the professionalism of the interior finish.  So, yeah, that means that I will do them, but not as a high priority task.  There will be another piece of track in the next Sailrite order.

On The Opening Of Ports

PO Recursiveness

In the past I have repeatedly referenced the Previous Owner with some disdain.  In fact I have attributed most of the problems we have dealt with aboard Eolian to the Previous Owner. 

However, astute readers of my previous post will have noticed something:

• I whined about the use of silicone rubber as caulking under the caprail
• I last exposed the caprail to daylite in 1998.

Yes, embarrassingly,  it is true.  That was me - I put that silicone rubber there.  I have become my own Previous Owner.  If you own your boat long enough, this is inevitable.  You will eventually have to face your own repairs, made by a younger, less experienced version of yourself.

In the 16 years we have been responsible for Eolian's care, I have learned some things.  No, that's inadequate.  I have learned A LOT.  And the inappropriateness of silicone rubber is one of those things.  While I may have whined about our Previous Owner using silicone rubber for simply everything (liquid duct tape?), I was guilty of bringing this nasty stuff aboard too.

But that is one of the purposes of this blog - to keep others from making the mistakes I have made.

Learnings:

• Leave the silicone rubber ashore (except where explicitly required - by Beckson for installation of their ports for example).
• Hubris can result in embarrassment

---

Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

PO Recursiveness

Atomic lace

While I was busy chasing the fish thru our head intake plumbing, I noticed that a fitting on the next seacock over was seeping.  So, since I had the proper sized nut driver in my hand, I put a half turn on the appropriate hose clamp.  *SNAP*   This fitting broke clean off!   I hurriedly closed the seacock.

Thank you, PO

This is (or was...) a brass fitting.  It has de-zincified.

Brass is an alloy of copper and zinc (not to be confused with bronze, an alloy of copper and tin).  Now, we put zincs on our props and/or shafts to protect the bronze props, right?  Well, with brass, there is zinc right there, internally!  And just like with your prop, in salt water the zinc dissolves to protect the copper.  But when it is a solid piece of metal what does this mean?

It means just exactly what you'd imagine...  This piece of used-to-be-brass is now copper, but with 30% void space - it is atomic lace.  Of course it has no strength.

Brass has no place in boat plumbing (except perhaps in the fresh water lines at the galley sink).  But sadly, most marine chandeliers not only stock brass fittings, but they also locate their brass and bronze fittings right next to each other, or worse, intermixed with each other.  And since brass and bronze are similar in appearance, this arrangement infers that they are interchangeable.  NOT SO!  In fact, I will make the case that marine chandeliers should not stock brass plumbing fittings at all.  Just like with non-stranded electrical wire, if a boater needs a brass fitting, he should be forced to go to a conventional hardware store so that it becomes explicitly obvious that he is getting something not suitable for marine service.

Atomic lace

Best small sailboat for Puget Sound

A reader recently visited this blog because it showed up in the search results for "best small sailboat for Puget Sound".  Sadly, the reader did not contact me :( 

Dear Reader, please imagine that you had contacted me, and that consequently we are sitting in Eolian's cockpit on a warm spring afternoon, sipping beers.  Here's what I would say:

I'm sorry but I cannot answer your question without a lot more information.

First, you ask for the best small sailboat...  what is your definition of "small"?

• Do you have a particular size in mind?  How did you settle on this size?
• Are you looking at a particular price ceiling?  What is it?  
• Are you looking for a new boat?  A used boat?  Why?  Are you willing to do a little work on the boat?  (You had better say "yes" to this question - whether new or old, boats all require work...)
• "Small boat" could imply trailerable.  If this is what you have in mind, do you have a rig capable of pulling the boat (Accords and Camrys need not apply)?  Do you have a place to store the boat when out of the water?  The disadvantage of a trailerable boat is that a fair amount of time (roughly an hour) needs to be spent rigging the mast and transferring everything from the towing rig to the boat before use.  But it does enlarge your cruising grounds considerably - The San Juans are close when you are traveling at 65 mph.

Next, what is it you see yourself doing with the boat?

• Racing?
• Day sailing?  Where?  
• Cruising?  Do you want to overnight on the boat? 

Does the simplicity of sail power appeal to you? Or do you enjoy all the bells and whistles?

Will your boat have a motor?

• Outboard or inboard?
• Gas or diesel?

Finally, what do you mean by "Puget Sound"?  Are you talking about:

• Day sailing on Lake Union?
• Lake Washington?
• The Sound itself, above the Tacoma Narrows?
• The South Sound?
• The San Juans? 

And the items are interrelated too.  The price of the boat is going to directly reflect its condition (are you willing to work on it?), the included gear and systems (simple or complex?) and intended use (day sailor, cruiser, racer).  Trailerable boats will not need moorage, thus saving that cost, but at a cost of time required to rig and derig at each use.  And you will have to pay for, license and maintain the trailer.

And now that you have answered, "Well, all of them!" to some of those questions, then I must say that you have some further contemplation before you are ready to make a purchase.  No boat is going to be good at racing, cruising and day sailing, for example.  You really do need to prioritize things.  A boat that tries to be all things does none of them well.

And now that we're done with that second (third?) beer, I'd tell you to go look at boats. Look at lots of boats. Look at boats that are in your parameters, and boats that are not.  The seller (whether broker or private) wants to show you their boats - take advantage of that. Sit aboard and imagine yourself under sail.  Feed the dream.

Come back again when you have done that - we'll have a lot more decisive conversation then.  And more beer.

Best small sailboat for Puget Sound

Silicone rubber - Just Say NO

I despise this stuff.

No, that's not a strong enough word - I HATE silicone* rubber.  There, now I feel better.

It's a weak adhesive.

It cannot be sanded.  Or painted.

Nothing sticks to it - not even silicone rubber.  Except dirt.

If you have ever used it on a surface, that surface is almost irretrievably contaminated.  The only certain way to decontaminate a silicone fouled surface is to remove that surface, by sanding, sand blasting, etc.

Eolian's previous owner loved the stuff. 

I can think of only three places on a boat where silicone rubber is called for:

• There are some plastics that cannot tolerate contact with polysulphide, polyether or polyurethane adhesives or sealants.  Where the manufacturer (notably Beckson, for their ports) requires it, you should use silicone rubber.
• Lubricating/sealing head hose during assembly.  Apply a coating to the inside of the hose end, carefully heat it with your heat gun until both the main body of the hose and also the stiffening spiral have become soft, and assemble.  Get the hose clamp on while the hose is still soft if you can.
• Making non-skid rings on the bottom of dishes, serving bowls, etc.  Put down a piece of wax paper, run a bead around the bottom of the dish or bowl and set it on the wax paper.  When the silicone is cured, peel off the wax paper and voilà! - a nonskid dish.

Anywhere else on the boat that you think you might use silicone rubber, polysulphide is probably the correct choice.  You might possibly know polysulphide by its other name: BoatLife Life Calk (yeah, that's how they spell it).  Another choice could be a toned down polyurethane, like 3M-4200  (but stay away from the full-blown stuff - 3M-5200, unless you intend for the installation to be permanent).

Now put down that caulking gun and step away from the boat!

* A little definition is in order.  Silicon (note the absence of the trailing 'e') is a silvery metallic substance - here's a picture of a piece I have on my desk right now:

I should know - I used to work in a manufacturing facility that made the stuff, starting with quartz.  Silicon is the basis for most semiconductors made today, albeit in a more purified form than that chunk on my desk.  It is also dissolved in copper along with other stuff to make silicon bronze.

Silicone is a term that is used to refer to a whole series of compounds based on silicon, in much the same way as the term carbohydrate or hydrocarbon are used to refer to a whole series of compounds based on carbon.  Silicone rubber, silicone grease, silicone oil (in silicone breast implants - not silicon, Heaven forbid!) are silicon compounds.

Sadly, the press seems to use the terms more or less interchangeably, indicating that they have no idea what they are talking about.  But then I repeat myself.

Silicone rubber - Just Say NO

Boat domestic this morning

Heavy fog out there this morning, fog horns out on the Sound, and 54°... working inside just seems the right thing to do.

So, first project: repair my boat mocs.  It seems that the harder and less flexible wear pad is separating from the foam stack which forms the heel.  And that somehow the foam stack is compressing or wearing away?? So taking advantage of one of those boat chemicals that are so ubiquitous here and non-existent in shore life, I squeezed in some 5200 (after masking with blue tape, of course!).  This stuff is the most tenacious adhesive I have ever seen, and it cures as a rubber to boot (no pun intended, tho it would make an ideal patch for boots too).  A perfect match for the need here.  This stuff takes 24 hr or more to cure, so I'll have to wear something else to work tomorrow, probably.

Next, it's been at least 10 years since Jane and I (well actually, more Jane than I, if I remember correctly) refinished the inside of our cabinetry.   It is time to revisit that task, obviously. This cabinet in the aft head should keep me out of trouble for the rest of the morning, at least.

It is kind of amazing to think that we have lived aboard Eolian long enough now that we are having to redo maintenance items, based now on the wear and tear of our lives, not that of the PO.

---

Update:

It sure looks better!

Boat domestic this morning

Boarding ladders

One of the things that the Previous Owner did well on Eolian was the design and installation of our boarding lader.  Eolian has a lot of freeboard.  There is no way, for example, that you are going to board her from a dinghy without some kind of ladder.

It is not uncommon for boats with lots of freeboard to have boarding ladders.  The question always is: "Where do I put this thing when I am not using it?"  It is not an easy question to answer.

If you use the old aluminum folding standby, you can just store it on deck or against the lifelines.  Best to tie it down somehow, tho.

The Force 50's (this is Ghost) came with a wonderful traditional boarding stairs, that fold up and tie to the outside of the lifelines underway.  They are completely adjustable as to height - right down to the water, and make a great platform from which to board a kayak at anchor.

Cooper 416's come with a wonderful heavy teak ladder, which folds in half. 

















Eolian's Previous Owner (and I give him all the credit here) came up with a wonderful idea:

Fabricated out of stainless tubing large enough to be comfortable to bare feet, these are permanently bolted thru her hull.  There is a nut welded to the outside of the large washer (that is, inside the tubing), and a bolt goes thru the hull and engages the nut.  The large surface area of the washers provide the necessary stability.  And the bolt is sized to be more than adequate to support a fully mature male human being, but yet small enough to shear off and prevent hull damage should the step meet up with an immovable object - say, a dock (don't ask).   Yes, on a starboard tack, one or two steps may be submerged, adding a little drag.  But on a boat of Eolian's size, it doesn't account for much.

But best of all, we don't have to store them, and they are always ready for use.

---

Christian asked for additional detail on the steps - The best I can do here Christian is to put up this engineering sketch for the steps which was in the ship's papers:

Boarding ladders

Stewardship, not ownership

Are you planning for your boat to sink?  No?  Then to burn, perhaps?  Not that either, then.  Hmmm.  Then the only alternative remaining really, is to eventually sell her.  To a new owner.

In most cases, boats outlive us, or at least outlive our interest in them.  It is therefore inevitable that at some future time, each of us will be classified as the dreaded Previous Owner.  So whether we consider ourselves as owners, we are caretakers, hopefully stewards, over them for a period of years, but then they will move on to the next owner.   It behooves us to take the stewardship of our boats seriously then.

When I think of "ownership", I get thoughts like:

• She's mine.  I can do whatever I want to her.
• Who cares if I use this red wire for the negative?  I'll always remember
• I'll do it right later; this'll get me by for now.
• Maintenance log?  Why would I keep one of those?  Just do what needs to be done.
• Patches are good enough.

But "stewardship" brings to mind thoughts like these:

• I don't want to be the dreaded Previous Owner - I do want to be  "that great guy who had her before me"
• I should use the right wire to do this - someone else will eventually be trying to figure out what I did here.
• Long term thinking instead of short term
• What will the next owner think of this?
• Improvements, not patches

I should also point out that eventually, you will become your own Previous Owner.  I am embarrassed to admit that on at least one occasion, I have found myself doubting the Previous Owner's intelligence and breeding, only to find that it was me that had made the change.  Yeah, that's really embarrassing, on several levels.

I believe the key thought above is the one that goes "Improvements, not patches."  Whenever something needs to be fixed, I try to spend some time thinking about why it has failed, and whether a better design or better (more modern?) materials might be called for.  And when appropriate, I try to implement those design or material changes.  This applies to both those things that the Previous Owner did (which goes without saying, of course), but also the factory who built her.  After all, they too were only human, and undoubtedly made decisions based on the twin expediencies of cost and time.

In the boating world, we learn from our failures.  Standards to which boats are built are in large part empirical.  That is, the tried is the true.  But sometimes, in an effort to distinguish themselves, a manufacturer will try something which turns out to be not so "true."  Or we will all decide together that the old way can be improved upon (2 NM navigation lites vs. oil lamps, for example).  The boat owner who is a steward will make his changes and hew to the current standards, rather than just replacing the old.

Done well, and your pride and joy will be something in which you can justifiably take pride, and will be in better condition on the day you sell her than the day you bought her.

Unless you sink her, of course.

Stewardship, not ownership

Journey of discovery: Following the traces

 

Here's the manufacturer's wiring schematic for the alternator.  Looks pretty simple, doesn't it?  The field connection (terminal 1 on the alternator) goes thru a current limiting resistor, thru an oil pressure switch, and then direct to the positive battery terminal on the starter.  Makes sense.  You don't want the field drawing current all the time - only when the engine is running.  And when the engine is running, there will be oil pressure (well, hopefully).

Now looking at the actual alternator, we discover something:  The brown/white wire and the green wire are no where to be seen.  Stuff has been rewired.  From my previous forensics, I know that the Previous Owner installed a 60 amp or greater alternator but didn't upgrade the wiring to handle the extra current, causing a major melt-down in the engine wiring bundle.  There have been a lot of splices. 

Our actual alternator terminal wire (past the short section of white wire at the plug) is pink.  The wire bundle goes from the alternator (lower right in the picture) to the back of the engine (upper left in the picture) before it joins any other wires.

At that junction, we find additional evidence of the wiring melt-down:  three of the four wires coming from the alternator have been spliced, again.  And the colors have changed, again.  Instead of a pink wire, we are now interested in a lavender wire, which enters the larger engine wiring bundle and heads to the left...

Under the floor, towards the cabinet behind the pantry...

Up the inside of the cabinet in a large bundle of wires...

Finally arriving at back of the cockpit engine control panel.  Here we discover that it is connected directly into the wiring coming from the ignition switch, specifically, the circuit that is energized when the switch is turned on.

This is nothing at all like the manufacturer's schematic.  But it should still work to deliver current.  There is a risk of burning up the field windings if the ignition switch is left on for long periods when the engine is not running.

This is not good.  But still, it should work.

(Previous post in this series | Next post in this series)

Journey of discovery: Following the traces

Project: Rebuild the refrigerator

This is a project from September, 1999

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The refrigeration compartment on Eolian was in bad shape when we took possession of her:

• The door was bent, corroded, and didn't seal well.  
• The "decor" panel in the door was an unfinished piece of teak veneer, suitably filthy
• The interior was dirty
• The floor of the interior was cracked and broken - as if someone had dropped a bowling ball in there
• There was no drain
• Someone had cut an opening into the counter above the compartment in an attempt to make it a "top-loader".  The cut was clearly made by a near-sighted drunk with a sawzall.  The edges of the cut out piece were festooned with some stainless strapping to keep it from falling into the refrigerator when in place.  The strapping was sharp-edged and bent.
• The counter top thru which the hole had been cut was finished with the ubiquitous "wood-grain" Formica.
• The compressor ran frequently, for long periods.

Any one of these items would have been sufficient incentive to tackle the job, but as I was beginning the job of replacing the counter top Formica throughout the boat, this was the issue that provided the straw that broke the camel's back.

First, I prepared for living a refrigerator-/freezer-less existence for an extended period by training myself to enjoy warm beer.

Next, I found a new Norcold refrigerator door suitable for the service at the old Doc Freeman's chandlry.  Because it had been damaged - the decor panel was dented - I got it for $10.  Then I got a suitable piece of black Plexiglas from Clear Cut plastics, and installed it in the door as the decor panel.

Now the fun starts.  In an orgy of destruction, I tore out the interior finish panels, and then the insulation...  back to the hull,  down to the floor, out to the walls, and up to the counter above.  I left the panel on which the holding plate was mounted alone, because I did not want to loose the refrigerant charge in the system.  The insulation I took out was foam-in-place polyurethane, and all of it (on the bottom at least) was saturated with water.  Clearly it had little, if any, value as insulation.  Urethane foam, broken floor and no drain all contributed to this problem.

Next I went to Home Depot and bought a 4x8 sheet of 2" blue polystyrene foam.  This stuff is closed cell, and will not absorb water.  And a can of spray foam (this is polyurethane foam).

Then I carefully cut and fitted sheets of the foam to the floor, walls and ceiling of the space, creating 2 full layers, for a total of 4".  I installed them with spray foam, and used the spray foam to fill the odd spaces where trimming was hard to get perfect.  Polystyrene is tricky because it will "melt" on contact with most solvents.  The polyurethane spray foam does not affect it however.

Next I got a 4x8 sheet of fiberglass-reinforced abs sheet designed for lining shower enclosures (I think this may be same stuff that s/v C'est la Vie used for their bimini roof, 11 years later  -Ed).  Carefully cutting pieces of this material, I glued it in place with 5200 (I didn't want to chance having expanding foam bulge the sheet).  I also carefully sealed the seams at the corners with 5200.  Outside corners around the door opening got finished with plastic moldings made for this purpose, and 5200.

And then I installed a drain, using a marelon thru hull.

Finally, I leveled the top surface where the savagely-cut lift-out had been using plywood, and with water putty for leveling.  With the new Formica installed, the repair was invisible.

As a finishing step, I cut and installed some of those snap-together soft plastic gridded cushion tiles to take the brunt and spread the load if another bowling ball should get dropped in there and to keep the food from sitting in any water that had not yet made it to the drain.

The end result is a *huge* improvement.  (That's not a mark on the door - it is the reflection of a fire extinguisher on the wall opposite).

Project: Rebuild the refrigerator

I learned about sailing from that: Small places

It was 1998, and I was living aboard Eolian by myself - Jane was still over in Spokane with Adam, he in his senior year of high school. I was on a mission of exploration, trying to find out everything about Eolian that I could, and in particular, what was all the "stuff" in all of the compartments (it is a rare boat that does not come with an assortment of surprises stored away in hidden places, compliments of the Previous Owner).

I had pulled up the floorboard that covers the space by the mainmast step. There was all kinds of "stuff" in there! A spare prop, an anchor, a grappling hook... and what is that behind the prop? Well, from my position, lying on the floor with the upper half of my body more or less down into the compartment with a flashlight, I couldn't quite tell.

So I slithered a little more forward and was almost able to reach the prop. But not quite. Just a little bit more...

Uh oh... Too far!

Now I was over-balanced, with more of my body down in the hole than on the floorboards above. And with no way to back up. It was like a Chinese finger trap, every move I tried made things worse, ending up with me farther and farther into the compartment, headfirst.

I was alone on the boat, and there was no one around to hear me shout for help.

I finally stopped struggling, and managed to quell the rising panic. I'm not sure how long I hung there, with my hands too far from the bottom of the compartment to push myself back out. It certainly seemed like long enough, with my body blocking the light from above (and the air!), seeing with only a flashlight, and the blood rushing to my head, trying to figure a way out of this trap. I had visions of Jane coming to the boat 6 months later, only to find my skeleton dangling half in and half out of the hole.

Eventually I came up with the plan to rearrange the contents of the compartment, stacking the things I could reach on top of those I couldn't, until I had a platform high enough to use to push myself back up out of the hole. It worked.

Learnings:

• This is the reason that in industrial settings there is the concept of a "Confined Space" and a "Confined Space Permit". You may not enter a Confined Space without a permit, and the permit requires various safety considerations, usually including someone to pull you out if necessary. This certainly constituted a Confined Space.
  
• Always consider the whole job before starting - including provisions for retreat.
  

---

Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

I learned about sailing from that: Small places

Project: Dickenson Heater

When we first took possession of Eolian, the installation of the Dickenson heater was somewhat different than it is now. This picture, taken too early in the morning after our ownership celebration in November 1997, shows the heater as it was then. (I don't have too many pictures from that timeframe, and the ones I do have are not very good quality - we were just in the beginning stages of switching to digital.) Please note the stainless steel shield behind the heater chimney. I know you can't see it in the picture, but it made a right angle turn at the ceiling, and then proceeded another 18". This was kind of necessary, because the Dickenson heater is not provided with any mechanism to circulate the air it heats - it just rises straight up. The Previous Owner attempted to alleviate this problem with the heat shield, and a small 12V fan, mounted just out of the picture to the right.

I thought the shield was ugly, and decided to take it down, forcing me to find another way to address the problem.

When I did, I got a pleasant surprise. Behind the heat shield was a metal grill with adjustable vanes, venting from the plenum just behind the heater. This was a left over from the original air conditioning installation, at that time mostly removed. For real air circulation, I got a 12V electric radiator fan from an automotive shop, and mounted it in the plenum behind the grill. These are designed to move a lot of air, and are pretty bullet proof, being intended to run outside, under the hoods of cars in all weather.

Next, I thought the metal-framed grill was also kind of ugly, so I made a teak bezel for it. You can see how I have set the vanes to blow the heat away from the bulkhead and ceiling, and out into the boat proper.

Next on the agenda was the treatment where the chimney pipe penetrated the deck. Outside, it was fine. But inside, the trim installation left something to be desired.

A hole had been cut in the headliner, and the trim ring supplied with the Dickenson had been installed to the deck with long screws (the headliner is about 1" below the actual underside of the deck). But the headliner hole was ragged and oversize, and the trim ring was not large enough to cover it.

I glued some wood scraps to the underside of the deck with Gorilla glue (great for large gap filling), scraps thick enough to fill the gap between the deck and the headliner. And I made another teak frame large enough to cover the headliner hole and have some reveal around the stainless trim ring, and attached it to the now-glued wood scraps, trapping the headliner between.

Oh yeah, and I took down the little 12V fan and its associated wiring.

This arrangement works very well for heating the boat, and I think it looks good too. Don't you?

Project: Dickenson Heater

I learned about sailing from that: Always have a backup plan!

This is a guest column, written by Mike & Rebecca aboard s/v Katana. This is an expanded version of the original post, written specifically for Windborne in Puget Sound.

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If ever there was a time when circumstances aligned to cause us problems, the first day moving our boat this season was it.

Although launch day was calm and uneventful, including the mast stepping which followed (I won't mention the lightning storm that began just as I was tightening the rigging), the wind had picked up considerably the next day. As more boat launches were scheduled, we told the marina owners that we would get there early and move our boat a few slips down the dock to make way.

Our boat's engines had sat without running for just shy of 6 months and thus I was a bit apprehensive about how well they would perform. Because of this, we let the engines run at idle for a good 15 minutes before casting off to move the boat. At this point the winds were blowing from our stern quarter at a good 20 knots. Nothing we hadn't experienced before, but we did make a note of it and considered how it would affect the boat's movement.

Strangely, the marina yard was, just then, empty. If one of the staff had have been around, or even one of the other boat owners, there is a good chance that I would have asked him to stand by on the dock to catch a line as we made our approach to the new slip. But again, docking with just the two of us was something we had done many times in the previous season, so we didn't bother going to look for help. With me at the helm, Rebecca cast off the lines as we had planned.

Almost from the beginning it didn't work out quite as we had hoped and Rebecca had to move quickly to even get on the boat. The wind took hold, causing us to accelerate and almost instantly we were being blown across the water towards the adjacent dock. No problem... I'll just shift the engines into reverse. Problem! They both stalled! Fortunately, with only a few feet to spare, I was able to restart them quickly and shift to reverse. This stopped our forward motion but again, the wind had moved us off course and we were now past the slip that we initially intended to dock in. As this was very early in the season, the entire dock was virtually empty, and thus we rapidly decided to make way into the next slip. Again the engines stalled and we were blown past it. This wind-blowing-engine-stalling process repeated itself until we had moved from the very first slip in the dock all the way out into the bay. At this point I had visions of our engine problems allowing us to be taken right across to the opposite shoreline! No problem... we have a sailboat. We'll just raise our sails to control our motion. Problem! The sails had not yet been rigged! OK, still no problem... if we really get into trouble we'll just drop our anchor. Another problem. Even the anchors had not yet been set! They were stored below, as they had been all winter, instead of being fixed on the bow, ready to deploy, as they normally are.

Was there a happy ending? Yes, what could have been a disaster for us resolved itself favorably. We ultimately got the engines running and were able to maneuver ourselves back to our desired slip. Although the docking process was ugly to say the least, the boat made it there without a scratch (thanks in part to the rubber bumpers on the corner of the dock and to Rebecca's aggressive fending-off).

Lessons learned:

• The first lesson, and one that was drilled into us from our first sailing course, is to not let Mother Nature get one up on us. Although we had considered the wind's effect on our movement, we failed to pay it enough heed.


• Although we had anticipated that we may have had engine issues, we failed to test them fully prior to casting off. We should have.


• Why didn't we seek help when all it would have taken is a quick walk to find one of the marina staff, or even easier, a quick call on the radio to the office? I would have to say that we (I) let our ego take over. We shouldn't have to ask for help to move our own boat, should we? Yes, given the circumstances, asking to have someone stand by would have been prudent, and it sure would have been helpful.


• What about the sails and the anchors? This could be one of the biggest lessons. We had no backup plan. No fail-safe. There always needs to be a backup, and if possible, a backup to that backup.

Good fortune was actually with us that day because we were able to have some important lessons driven home to us without it costing us any money. That isn't often the case!

Mike and Rebecca
s/v Katana
http://www.zerotocruising.com

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Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

I learned about sailing from that: Always have a backup plan!

Unscheduled Stoppages

"Unscheduled stoppages": That's what the Previous Owner termed them... When the engine stops, not because you command it to do so, but of its own volition (or perhaps lack of volition).

Diesel engines are remarkably reliable. Because there is no electrical system involved in the operation of the engine, it is purely a machine. It will run until:

• Something breaks
• It runs out of fuel

In fact, that's how you stop a diesel engine - you cut off its fuel. Therefore, if your engine stops on its own, unless broken greasy parts have suddenly appeared on the cabin sole, you should start your search for the problem with the fuel supply.

Eolian's original fuel system looked something like this (starting at the tanks):

1. Two steel canister filters, either one of which (or both) could be valved in line
2. A large Racor filter
3. The lift pump (on the engine)
4. The final polishing filter (on the engine)
5. The injection pump (on the engine)
6. Enough (unlabeled) valves to fit out a nuclear reactor

Not surprisingly, our very first unscheduled stoppage happened on our very first voyage. It was caused by operator error - I had some of the valves incorrectly set up, directing the fuel thru an auxiliary electric fuel pump (not mentioned above, since it wasn't supposed to be in the flow path), whose small internal passages blocked off with gunk in the unfiltered fuel.

We were to suffer many more, some in pretty precarious situations. Like the time we were just making the turn into the marina after a day of sailing. We were in the entrance to the Ship Canal. The locks had just opened and there was a host of boats heading out, bearing down on us. And we were drifting toward the rock-studded shoal on the south side of the Ship Canal entrance. We were fortunate in that we had just furled the sails - we just unfurled them, and Jane began tacking us back and forth across Puget Sound, while my son Adam and I chased bubbles thru the fuel system.

Eventually we resolved the problem, by taking these actions:

• Remove the steel canister filters. As it turned out, they were completely empty - there were no filter elements in them at all
• Install a second Racor 90 gallon/hr filter in parallel with the first. This is way more filter than our flow rate requires, but it's large size provides a large filtration area.
• Redo the fuel plumbing, eliminating a pile of valves
• Create a plumbing/valving diagram, and post it on the bottom of the floorboard, where it will be at eye level when operating any of the fuel valving
• Label the valves
• Repair the fuel gauge sending units in the fuel tanks
• Install a second Racor vacuum gauge in the panel adjacent to the companionway, where it is easily viewable.

We haven't had an unscheduled stoppage since these have been completed.

That loud pounding you are hearing is me, knocking on every piece of wood I can find...

Unscheduled Stoppages

Project: Racor Gauge

This is another one of those small projects that have made life aboard Eolian more comfortable or easier in some way. This one is from 2000.

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After suffering several "unscheduled stoppages", as the Previous Owner termed them, early in our tenure aboard Eolian, Jane became paranoid (rightfully so, based on our experience) that the engine was going to fail. She frequently went down below and pulled up the floorboard over the Racor filters to check the vacuum gauge. The more critical the availability of the engine became, the more frequently she was down below pulling up the floorboard.

Rather than being a problem, this pointed out an important fact: One of our critical pieces of instrumentation was in an inaccessible location.

I procured another Racor vacuum gauge (one designed for panel mounting), and mounted it next to the engine hour meter on the panel adjacent to the companionway. I plumbed it direct to the inlet of the engine lift pump, by installing a tee.

Here it is with the engine running under way, showing that there is no impending fuel filter blockage.

Perhaps the most important thing that I have come to recognize as a result of this little project is that an annoyance is really an opportunity to improve, in disguise.

Project: Racor Gauge

Deck Leaks

If a boat owner tells you he doesn't have any deck leaks, you should interpret that as, "I haven't found any deck leaks recently." Or, "I am lying to you because I want to sell you my boat."

With the return of the rains to Seattle (we set a record last weekend...), the subject of deck leaks is entirely apropos. Why do boats have 'em, and houses not? I don't know, but it may have to do with two things:

• Boat decks are flat. Well, OK they are gently sloped to shed water, but nothing like the pitches of the roofs on houses
• Boat decks have a lot of penetrations, where house roofs have only a very few - and those are very carefully (albeit traditionally) treated (chimneys, plumbing vent stacks, roof vents). Boats, on the other hand have deck penetrations for handrails, padeyes for blocks, lighting fixtures, dodger support structures, lifeline stanchions, pulpits, masts, etc. I'd wager that just one handrail on Eolian has more penetrations than the average house roof has altogether. (And what about a boat with a teak overlay deck? In addition to all the penetrations on a standard fiberglass deck, the teak overlay will itself have hundreds of screws.)

So, it comes down to opportunity (flat, or nearly flat surface) and risk (lots of penetrations).

But whatever the reason, deck leaks are a reality. They can really be tricky to locate too. The water can enter and travel a long way before it exits into the cabin. Eolian has a vinyl headliner, which means that water doesn't damage it, but it can direct the water a long distance.

So, what is going on in this picture from two winters ago? There was water coming out of the headliner edge at the narrow teak strip. I had used (ubiquitious) blue tape to redirect the drips from the cabin side, down the tape strips, and into the bowls. Until you find the source, this keeps there from being consequent damage.

And what was the source of this leak? Well, there was a little hole where a small screw had been removed (apparently from an earlier generation of our canvas cockpit enclosure). This screw hole was located inside the cockpit enclosure, and had not been a problem for the previous 12 years we had been responsible for Eolian. However, the small stream of water that had channeled inside the enclosure changed course (a new speck of dust? Recent waxing? Change of boat heel due to emptying water tanks? Who knows). Now it went directly over the screw hole. Well some of it went over the screw hole, but most of it went into the screw hole. And came out in the cabin. It is absolutely amazing how much water can come into the cabin via such circumstances. Until I figured it out, I was dumping the bowls, full, twice a day. Yeah, it rains a lot here in Seattle.

I need to make up a large batch of gelcoat, color-matched to the finish of Eolian's decks. Once I have applied this, the leak will be permanently fixed. But until then, there is a small square of blue tape over the hole.

Sadly, this is not the only small square of blue tape. I really need to make up that batch of gelcoat.

Deck Leaks

Project: Folding Companionway Closure

Project from 2002

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Because of the design of Eolian's companionway, there was no way for the factory to put a door there - just the sliding overhead hatch and the weather boards. This is a problem. Putting in and taking out the weather boards as a regular means of entry and egress in the winter when the companionway needs to stay closed for heat retention is very impractical. The previous owner addressed the problem by making a panel which filled the companionway opening and which was hinged to the underside of the sliding hatch. After long study and lots of beer, I concluded that indeed this is the best solution to the problem. Unfortunately, the execution by the previous owner left very much to be desired. Although he used teak plywood, it was apparently cut with dull sabre saw, and was never finished in any way. Then, the hardware was all plain steel stuff, which rusted badly (pix 1). Finally, when the small vent he installed in the middle of the swing panel proved to let in too much cold air in the winter, he simply glued a scrap of Plexiglas over the louvers with silicone.

So - with the approach settled, the initial steps in building a new swinging door were removal and refurbishment: The old steel hardware was removed and the resulting holes dutched in with small pieces of teak. The companionway opening was stripped, sanded and refinished. The hinged panel was removed from the sliding hatch, and the hatch was rebuilt and refinished. As a part of this, custom plastic slides were cut (from Jane's cutting board - she got a new one out of the deal) and partially inlet into the wood sliding surface of the hatch. This was a necessary first step, since it was my intention to significantly tighten up the tolerances used in the previous design. And the plastic will outwear the wood by orders of magnitude (thus keeping the hatch at a constant height above the deck), as well as making it much easier to slide.

We bought a 9' teak 1x4 ($55 - this stuff is not cheap), and cut from it the 4 pieces to form the frame for the new swinging panel. These pieces were carefully custom-shaped to make the proper angles at the corners (all 4 are different) and to fit the opening with a total design clearance of 1/8" (that is, 1/16" on each side). Tenons were fashioned on the ends of the top and bottom pieces - next mortises were made in the side pieces to accept these tenons. A 3/8" rabbit was cut into the inside edge to accommodate glazing (which will be trapped with a small finish molding). This was all done with table saw and router.

The mortises were cut (by hand, with a 1/4" chisel, to a depth of 1.5 ") in the stiles of the new companionway door, and the door was then glued up with epoxy. Then two small glides/slides were made to stabilize the door in the center of the companionway opening (from Jane's cutting board again). And a shim to mate the stainless piano hinge to the crowned underside of the sliding hatch.

Finally, the door got multiple coats of varnish, and was glazed with a piece of 3/16" Plexiglas, bedded in polysulphide. And the 1/4" quarter round that I made from the teak scraps was used to finish the inside. Finally, a brass handle was mortised into the top edge on the inside to provide a way to pull the door open from the inside.

This was a very difficult project from a design standpoint. At seemingly each step of the way, there were at least 4 ways to build a door that would not work, carefully hiding the one way to make one that would. I feel very lucky to have negotiated this minefield successfully.

Project: Folding Companionway Closure

Hot Diesel

No, this is not about some kind of exotic and weird fitness training.

Bear with me.

When we first brought the boat down to Seattle, and I moved aboard, it was winter. The boat had two full water tanks, so I didn't see the need to deal with water issues right away.

Eventually, however, the inevitable happened. In the middle of a shower, getting ready for work, I sucked air from the port water tank. Naked and slippery with soapy water, I slithered out to the galley, pulled up the floorboard, and re-valved the water supply to the starboard tank. I'll bet people living on shore don't have to do that too often. I got to work that day on time in spite of it.

As time wore on, I realized that the water in the starboard tank had a funny smell to it. Eventually I decided that it probably would be a good idea to use up that water for non-cooking issues (I was living as a bachelor - that did not signify much of a change).

Diesel floats on water. I'm just sayin'. (cue ominous music)

Once again, the inevitable happened, and again while I was in the shower, getting ready for work, not yet quite awake. Except this time, instead of air, the last thing out of the shower head was a gush of hot diesel. I stood there, dumbfounded, red liquid dripping off of me. I had just showered in hot diesel fuel! And, now, there was no more water in the tank. And of course, I had not refilled the port tank either. So there was no way to even rinse it off, let alone wash. I'm real sure people living on shore don't have this happen. OK, now what? It was either towel off and go to work, or towel off, get sort of dressed, go outside, find a hose and refill one of the tanks, and then re-shower. I have to confess that living on a boat had become a little discouraging for me at that point.

Well, I had started in this job only a few weeks earlier, so I was not ready to show up late for work. So instead, I showed up reeking of diesel. (Eleven and a half years later, I still wonder if that was the right call, but I do still have the job). Thankfully, none of my co-workers lit a match near me.

Apparently, the Previous Owner had stuck the fuel hose in the wrong deck port and pumped in a few bucks worth. What to do? His call: Ignore it and let the next owner deal with it.

Eventually I got all the diesel out of the tank and the plumbing thru use of 2-3 bottles of dishwasher liquid, but there was a long time during which I couldn't cook with or drink water from aboard, since it all had to pass thru the contaminated plumbing. It made for good dishwashing and showering tho.

"Hot diesel yoga" does have a certain ring to it...

Hot Diesel