It's About Time

I can't believe that so much time has slipped by.

Needing to do some straightening and cleaning out, I delved into the dark recesses of our storage shed and found...  No, you probably didn't guess it.  Eolian's old bowsprit.  The one I removed in 2008, seven years ago.  SEVEN YEARS!

So, how do you dispose of a 10 foot long piece of partly rotten mahogany?

A symbolic act

Exactly.  You chainsaw it up into two foot long pieces, stack it up and burn it.  Stuffed in the bottom of the pile there you can also see the remains of the mizzen spreaders, which I also rebuilt, but just this last spring.  I really don't have a good explanation for why I kept the old bowsprit around so long.  But each time I looked at it over the years, I told myself, "I'll hang onto it a little longer, just in case."  Just in case what?  I have no idea - but somehow I felt that I was making a prudent decision to keep it a little longer.  No, I don't understand how my mind works either, but I have learned to live with it.

As it turns out, replacing the bowsprit couldn't have waited...  shouldn't have waited as long as it did.  When the saw dug into the last cut, two feet from the butt, a flurry of powder exploded out instead of chips.  There was not very much wood in there...

Not good

In fact, the rot had hollowed out the inside of the spar.  Frightening!  Despite this, there was very little evidence of the rot on the outside.  A sobering exposé for those whose boats have wooden spars (hopefully not made of mahogany, a terrible wood choice for outdoor service).

At this point, the only remaining unreplaced wooden spars on Eolian are the main spreaders, which I continue to inspect carefully every year, and to which I apply a fresh coat of paint as often as needed.  So far, there is no reason to replace them - they are as sound as when they were new.

It's About Time

New Spreaders For The Mizzen

Rot.

It's funny, isn't it - how something like this can prey on your mind - kind of subconsciously, but still gnawing away just below the surface.  Just like the rot - slow  but relentless.

Yes, I've known about the rot in our mizzen spreaders for a while now.  And I have been intending to deal with it for all that time, but the "right" time hadn't occurred - until now.

So I tied off the mizzen halyard to act as an auxiliary cap shroud and climbed the mast with my tools.  Removal of the spreader was far easier than my worries had been leading me to anticipate, even tho it had been up there for 37 years, untouched and uncomplaining.

More rot at the root.

I had decided that the replacement spar would be made from  pressure treated lumber (like the second-generation bowsprit) so that rot would never again be an issue.  Now if you have ever hoisted up pressure treated lumber at the lumber yard, you know that it is heavy.  And heavy is not good aloft on a sailboat.  But most of that weight is water:

To pressure treat lumber,

• it is put into a sealed vessel,
• the vessel is evacuated, removing nearly all the contained water in the wood as well as air trapped in its porosity.
• Then after a suitable degassing period, the water-based treatment solution is admitted to the vessel, and it is pressurized, forcing the solution deep (well kind of - see below) into the wood.

That's why the wood is so saturated with water when you buy it.   But if you simply let it stand in a reasonably dry place for long enough, it will return to a more "normal" moisture content - and much lighter weight.  In fact, the replacement spreader is actually lighter than the old one (which of course does have a lot of water in it due to the rot).

Well it only took a couple of hours with a skill saw, power plane, belt sander, and a router to duplicate the shape of the old spreader:

 

If you've ever cut into a pressure treated board, you know that despite the violence of the treatment process, the treatment does not reach the core of the board.  And since the spreader tapers from 1-1/2" thick at the root to 1" at the tip, and from 5" to 1" side to side, a lot of wood was removed from the surface and from one side.  Tapering the thickness and cutting away the sides revealed wood that was only lightly treated.  What to do?

People who handle pressure treated lumber day in and day out (building decks, for instance) have always had to deal with the cut ends of boards, where the untreated core gets exposed.  Long ago they found the answer:

Want to rot-proof some wood?  This is just the ticket

 

This stuff, which you can find now that you know its name, is just the ticket.  You just paint it on and wait for the solvent to evaporate.  Wear rubber gloves - its not nice stuff.

Add a coat of epoxy to permanently seal the surface.

Bed the hardware in polysulphide.

A couple coats of paint, and et voilà!

And now, even tho I still have one more spreader to go, it feels like an invisible weight has been lifted from me. The subconscious mental anxiety that was silently eating away at my contentment, my satisfaction, my peace, is now gone, just like the rot.

New Spreaders For The Mizzen

The Right Tool For The Job

If you're on a modern boat (and maybe even if you're not...), your running rigging is probably double braid line.  And the chances are excellent that that each length of that double braid has an eye splice at one end.  So here's the Big Question:

Have you ever made an eye splice in double braid?

I have made lots of them, and therefore can offer this advice to you:  This is one of those jobs for which having the right tool makes all the difference.

First easy eye splice

Up until the eye splice above, I had used a small tool set that I got at West Marine.  I chose it primarily because it was inexpensive.  And I made a lot of splices with it.  None were easy.  The directions were confusing (actually, I'm convinced they were flat wrong), and the tool was less than inadequate.  But I got the splices made with the help of lots of beer, the mariner's task lubricant.

If you've ever attempted an eye splice in old line, you will know that it is nearly impossible.  The line is stiff, is loaded with dried algae and salt, and has lost the lubricant the factory applies during it's construction.

And yet, I made the splice above in old line (actually some old 3/8" Stayset that used to run our furler).  And I can say that this was the easiest eye splice I have ever made, bar none.  Old line or new.

Why?

Because I had the right tool for the job.

And what tool, pray tell, is that?

The right tool for splicing braided line

The right tool for splicing double braid is Brion Toss's Splicing Wand.  We picked one up when we made a pilgrimage to Brion Toss's rigging shop in Port Townsend, but you can order them online too.

Splicing with this tool is nothing like using my old ones.  How do I make the comparison?   Let's try this:  splicing double braid without this tool is like cutting a board with a hammer and a screw driver.  You can do it, but it takes a lot longer, is a lot more work, and leaves you with a sub-optimal result.

The working end

This is one of those devices that is so ingenious and yet so simple that you will wonder why it took so long for someone to think it up.  How does it work?  Brion's description says it best:

The Splicing Wand is basically a long tube containing a hidden snare.  You slide the tool into the rope, grab the end you want to tuck, and slide the tool out.  There's a specially-shaped tip on the tube, to keep you from snagging yarns along the way, an ingenious mechanism in the handle, to hold the tube in place while you work.  You can clamp the tool in a vise if you want, leaving both hands free to deal with the rope, there's no taping or un-taping, no fid lengths to decipher, and very little physical effort needed to tuck.

 If you have double braid line on your boat, you need this tool.  I'll say it again:  Using Brion's tool, splicing old line was far easier than splicing new line was with my old tools.  I don't think I can say it any better than that.

Why don't you have one?

The Right Tool For The Job

Renewal = removal?

Looking back, sometimes it seems that our time on Eolian has been dominated by deinstalling things and hauling them off the boat, some large, some small, and some almost trivial.  Here's what I remember so far, over the 15 years that we have now been responsible for her care:

• I think the first think to go back in 1997 was a rusty  suspended metal three-basket set.  It was ugly beyond belief.
• Remove a whole host of corroded brass doodads that celebrated dolphins. 
• Remove another host of straw fabrications, presumably procured in Mexico and attached to various places with generous quantities of silicone
• Removed an ancient battery charger, and eventually the batteries that it ruined.
• Removed (and refurbished) the insulation of the refrigerator
• Removed and plugged the refrigerator opening that had been cut into the countertop, apparently by a drunken logger with a chainsaw that needed sharpening
• Removed (and replaced) the refrigerator door
• Removed (and replaced) the original stove/oven.  This was at least 20% by weight congealed grease
• Removed a 110V crash pump - a large 110V centrifugal pump.  In a situation that needed it, it was likely that the time spent getting it to prime would have allowed the water to rise up and drown the generator.  
• Removed (and replaced) 3 bronze head thru-hulls and associated leaking bronze tapered plug valves
• Removed (and replaced) the original bilge pump, installed when there was nothing else in the hull, apparently.  Spelunking skills were required.
• Removed a corroded and non-functional antenna tuner
• Removed an unbelievable quantity of "mystery wire" - wires that went nowhere and caused no end of difficulty in troubleshooting electrical problems.  At today's copper prices, I wish that I had saved it for recycling - I'd be rich.
• Removed (and replaced) the old bowsprit
• Removed (and replaced) the old inner forestay pad eye
• Removed  (and replaced) the old Benmar autopilot
• Removed the leaking fuel daytank
• Removed (and replaced) the refrigerator cooling water circulating pump
• Removed (and replaced) the holding tank
• Removed (and replaced) the bilge pump controls
• Removed (and replaced) the forward electrical distribution panel
• Removed two non-functional diesel filters
• Removed (and replaced) the stern lite
• Removed (and replaced) the masthead lite
• Removed (and replaced) the old microwave
• Removed (and replaced) the water heater
• Removed (and replaced) the corroded section at the foot of the mainmast
• Removed (and replaced) all the running rigging
• Removed (and replaced) the old cockpit canvas/bimini/dodger/side curtains
• Removed (and replaced) the old Groco heads
• Removed (and replaced) all the head plumbing
• Removed (and replaced) the exhaust elbow
• Removed (and replaced) the exhaust manifold
• Removed (and replaced) the alternator
• Removed (and replaced) all the original instrumentation (except windspeed/direction)
• Removed (and replaced) the original inverter
• Removed (and replaced) all the interior cushions and upholstery
• Removed (and rebuilt) all the cockpit cushions
• Removed (and replaced) the large fixed cabin windows
• Removed (and replaced) four of the eight opening ports
• Removed the original 110V space heaters
• Removed (and replaced) the original TV
• Removed (and replaced) the original VHF
• Removed the LORAN set (replaced with GPS)
• Removed the remains of the original airconditioning equipment
• Removed a non-functional oil change pump
• Removed (and replaced) the mizzenboom gooseneck fitting
• Removed all the original wood-grain formica
• Removed (and replaced) all the engine rubber hosing
• Removed (and replaced) the original fuel level senders
• Removed (and replaced) the original fresh water pressure pump
• Removed (and replaced) the original anchor wash-down pump

Woo boy.  I'm pretty sure that there's more, but the list is depressing enough as it is.  And there are investments that don't show up properly in the list, like a new bow lite, or a new inverter/charger.  Many of the removals above constituted their own projects which are documented elsewhere on this blog (you can search either by keyword or by label, over there on the right).

It seems that our waterline should have moved down...

Renewal = removal?

The bells

The bells of St. Mary's, they are not.

Every boat with a mast has lines that run up that mast to hoist sails.  What to do with those lines when there are no sails hoisted?

You can tie them off to cleats thoughtfully provided on the mast down at deck level for just that purpose.  But if you do that then the length of that line, running up the mast and inches, nay fractions of an inch, away from the mast will come alive when the wind starts.  It is a kind of aeolian harp, but with a very low frequency due to the long length of the halyard and the lack of tension in it.  And unfortunately when it gets to vibrating, it slaps against the mast.  With irritating regularity.

Whang whang whang whang
Whang whang whang whang

I have written before how living on a boat is like living inside a guitar.  Well this is like living inside a guitar that has the action set too low, making for string buzz, but again at a very low frequency.

And not only is it irritating down below, but it can be heard by your neighbors, and their neighbors.  One of the least neighborly things you can do is to leave your halyards rigged in such a way that they will begin to rhythmically ring the bell.  Your neighbors will grow to despise you...

And yet...

And yet, after a long day of sailing, when the anchor is finally down and the boat is rocking gently to and fro, the gentle clank of the halyards, still rigged to hoist the sails and ready for the morrow, is somehow soothing.

Like the bells of St. Mary's.

{listening to Gillian Welch: Tennessee}

The bells

Stop!

Ken and Erica donated a spare figure 8 to us for use in a boom brake!

Now all I have to do is figure out how I want to do the rigging.

Stop!

How to: Climb a mast

D%*$@ birds!

This weekend, sailing along close-hauled, I was watching the wind direction indicator, and was amazed at my ability to keep the boat exactly on the right course.  While congratulating myself, some doubt began to creep in.  Am I really that good?  Able to track even the slightest wind shift?  Then I noticed that the wind vane was missing from the mast head.  Cue ego deflation.  Some plus-sized bird must have sat on it and broke it off.  So it wasn't my ability after all - without the vane, the sensor was reporting a constant wind direction.

So now I have to make a trip up the mast, to the mast head.  You probably have had to do it too.

Jane watches me, up at the top

There are some irrational fears (and some rational ones) that I have to get past to do this.  At the top, I am 6 and a half stories above the water.  It is crowded - all the stays, shrouds and halyards terminate there.  And yet, working at the very top of the mast, there is nothing at all around me.  Nothing to reach out and grab, should I want to.  No mistakes are allowed.



I've written about mast climbing before, but I've never gone into the gear I use.

Petzl ascender

First, I securely cleat off a halyard which passes over the masthead.  I want one that does not depend on a pin to stay up there.  (Do you trust your own knots?)   Then, I use a pair of Petzl ascenders (think: rope clutch on steroids) to climb the uncleated end of the halyard.

Both ascenders on the
halyard - ready to climb

My bosun's chair (it has an integral seat belt) hangs from one ascender via a locking carabiner.  From the second ascender hangs (via another locking carabiner) a line with two foot loops in it.  The footloop ascender is on the halyard below the bosun's chair ascender.

To climb, I stand up in the foot loops and raise the seat ascender.  Then I sit down in the seat and raise the footloop ascender.  In this way, there is always on ascender clamped on the halyard - most of the time there are two, except when one is being moved.  Ascenders are impossible to release when there is tension on them, so it is not possible to release the wrong one by accident.

Interlocked loops
bracing against the mast

The footloop is really two interlocked loops - this keeps them from spreading out, and allows me to prop myself against the mast.  (I always wear these white tennis shoes when climbing, to avoid marking the mast.)

Where's the vane?

Yup, the vane is gone - it used to be on the top.  D*&% fat birds! Now the fun starts - how to find another mast head transducer for a Standard Horizon WS1.

---

Update: I am making a new vane.

How to: Climb a mast

Boom Brake Bucks (not)

There is a nice bit on inexpensive boom brakes over at Boat Bits.  I have been wanting to pursue a boom brake on Eolian, but the cost of the Wichard et al solutions was very off-putting.  This is the answer - we will be going forward with it on Eolian.

Boom Brake Bucks (not)

For horses, for sailboats

I stopped in at our local farm supply store and bought these two fittings for a total of $5. They are solid bronze, and I plan to use them on our flag halyard. I priced the same (OK, similar) fittings in the West Marine catalog... Want to guess? $9.49. Each.

A lot of horse tackle is either stainless or bronze, and is priced without the "marine multiplier" - next time you are nearby, check out a farm supply store.

If it is springtime, there will even be real, honest to gosh peeps!

For horses, for sailboats

Birds Below Me

At least once a year, I get to see Eolian from a very unique perspective: from 60 feet above her deck.

It is scary up there. From personal experience, I can tell you that it is at least twice as far, looking down from the masthead, as it is looking up at the masthead from the deck.

Here are some additional elements that add to the experience:

• Your perch is a glorified child's swing seat
• At the masthead, there is nothing above you to grab hold of, should you loose your balance
• The top of the mast is 63 feet above the water... when the boat rocks (for example, due to a wake), the motion is greatly magnified at the masthead - it moves thru feet of swing in a rapid motion, seemingly trying to throw you
  
• If you drop something (a tool...), you know it will cause significant damage below. On the other hand, from up there it looks like it would be difficult to drop something and actually hit the boat with it.
  
• You see birds flying below you
  

But whether the lights at the masthead need attention or not, I make the trip at least annually to inspect the rigging for cracked fittings, broken strands in the rig wires, etc.

There are many ways to ascend the mast:

• Some people have a partner winch them up using a halyard winch. This one frightens me, because without a third person to tail, there is the chance that the turns on the winch could slip
• Some people have steps attached to the mast. This leaves you with at most one hand to do work at the top. If you wear a harness, then a second person can belay a halyard on the harness. When you get to the top, the belay line is made fast, and you can then have both hands to work. But two people are required for this.
  
• Some people hoist a strap with footloops sewn into it using a halyard, and then climb that. Again, you will have at most one hand to do work. A second halyard and a second person can solve that problem here too.

But for unassisted climbing, I prefer to tie off a halyard, and then use a pair of Petzl mountaineering ascenders on that halyard. I like the comfort and "security" of a bosun's chair, so I hang that from the upper ascender, and a double footloop from the lower ascender. I can climb the halyard then by standing up, sliding up the upper ascender, sitting down, pulling up the lower ascender, etc., inchworming my way up using the biggest muscles in my body. Because the lower end of the halyard is free, I can easily pull myself out to the spreader tips, or swing outside of the shrouds as I get high on the mast where it gets crowded.

The view is breathtaking! Sometimes I go up there just for the view, especially at an anchorage if it is calm - here, we are in Port Madison - I was installing our new LED anchor and bow lights.

Typing this, I realize that I have never enjoyed a sunset from the masthead. This is a bucket list item I should really address this summer.

Birds Below Me