Boat Yard Observations

Behind this beautiful view and peaceful sunset lies a typical DIY boatyard. For my non-boater audience, boats are put "on the hard" for various reasons, but mainly to do underwater repairs, store the boat safely for hurricane season, or just to put on a new coat of antifouling paint.

We've hauled out lots of times in various places and it's always an interesting experience. Since our latest haulout we've acquainted ourselves with the yard and the other boaters, and we've discovered that this yard has all the usual characters and quirks.

There's always a small percentage of forgotten dreams slowly rotting away. Sad.

There's also a few full-time-liveaboard-never-going-anywhere boaters. Seriously, I've lived on boats for extended periods of time, and living aboard at a dock is unpleasant enough; why would anyone want to climb a ladder several times a day, share the communal restrooms, and never feel the boat move beneath their feet?

Speaking of restrooms, these are typical. A little grubby, the drains are slow and there's always a puddle in the shower room. People leave their belongings scattered around and there's often a waiting line. (Yesterday a black bra with pink bows was hanging in the unisex shower room. It was still there this morning.)

And the shower heads are weird. They are these large square things with a random spray pattern, but the worst part is, one shower has it mounted on the ceiling! Its like trying to take a shower in the rain. Don't laugh, but as a cruiser, I've done that, and it doesn't work too well. I wonder who thought this would be cool? 

However, there are some bright spots here. The weather is perfect: sunny, warm, and no rain. There is a little laundry room, a kitchen area with endless coffee, a book exchange, and a large dumpster for the junk I've culled out. And lots of folks have cars and offer rides into town.

The best part though, is the other cruisers we've met. There are two boats from Germany, several from up and down the East Coast, and a few from the West Coast too. These boats are owned by people who are actively cruising or dreaming of cruising. The boats come out, get worked on diligently, and go right back in. The owners have a checklist and a plan, and they want to get cruising as quickly as possible.

New sails are being bent on, solar panels are being installed, fresh bottom paint is being applied, and soon those boats will sail south for the winter to pursue their dreams.

As boatyards go, this one isn't too bad. Just be careful who you start a conversation with. I made the mistake of asking a man at the laundry room this morning, "So, which boat is yours?"

A half hour later I knew way too much about him, including his money woes, employment history, political views, and his conspiracy theories. Since I never got a word in, he knows nothing about me. And that's okay with me; sometimes it's better that way.

It's coming...

There's a certain feeling in the air now in Maine. It's that dry, breezy, leaves-crunching-underfoot kind of feeling that tells us that fall is coming.

Although the afternoons are still shorts and t-shirts weather, the mornings are chilly and we wish we had a heater. We are starting to see bits of orange here and there. Some of it, like these flowers and mushrooms is quite striking. The mushrooms were so bright, I thought they were crysanthemums at first!

We are beginning to see a few orange trees in the woods and fallen apples carpet the grass beneath their trees. Even the setting sun adds it's fiery glow to the boats in the harbor.

I picked up this leaf and carried it home yesterday. I tucked it into Thistle's logbook as a memory of our incredibly beautiful time sailing here in Maine. 

Westerbeke Exploded

It looks like a Westerbeke engine exploded inside our boat. However, it must have been a very tidy explosion. The starboard quarter berth is covered with clean, freshly painted parts just waiting for the block to come home from the machine shop.

There's been a little snag there though. (Isn't there always?!) The pistons, rings, gaskets, and bearings we ordered from Westerbeke, even though the website indicated they were in stock, apparently weren't. So we wait.

Malcolm has been cleaning and painting all the little parts. He made a cardboard spray booth in the cockpit. The paint will have plenty of time to cure because the parts won't arrive for maybe two more weeks.

It hasn't been all work though. The other day the Captain went on a day sail with our buddy boat Epilogue. Epilogue sailed by, hailed us, and Malcolm jumped in the dinghy and hopped on board for a guided tour up the St. Lucie River.

We met Epilogue back at the Key Biscayne Yacht Club and again at Lake Sylvia, and ended up sailing to Stuart with them. They suggested we stay at Sunset Bay Marina, which has turned out good for us, so, "Thank you, Epilogue."

While the Captain has been cleaning and painting parts, I've been trying to build up some varnish on all the exterior wood. The handrails have five coats now and are looking pretty good.

But these Dorade boxes are vexing me. The teak they are made of is flat grain and it's just very difficult to get that filled. They have six coats and are starting to look pretty good, but there are still low spots.

The secret to nice varnish work isn't really how many coats you put on, but how well you prepare the wood initially, and how well you sand it between coats. We start out using Scotch Brite pads instead of sandpaper for the first three coats. Then we switch to 150 sandpaper and the Scotch Brite pads. The final sanding should look like frosted glass with no shiny spots. Shiny spots indicate a low spot which needs more varnish to fill it.

It takes at least an hour and a half to sand one of these boxes, and ten minutes to put on the varnish. Just like all paint work, the final result is entirely dependant on the prep work.

By the time you flow on the seventh coat of varnish, you are SICK of sanding and so glad it's finally done. The only perk I've discovered from all this sanding is that I have no more Bingo Wings.

There's A Hole In The Bucket, Dear Henry, Dear Henry

Our latest problems remind me of that well known children's song.

With our generator taken apart we can't run our refrigeration so we need to go into the dock at least every other day for ice. Normally we use the dinghy, but our floppy old dinghy is just getting worse and worse and we really need to take it apart and glue it back together. However, if we take the dinghy apart, we can't go get ice or the head for the generator which is at the machine shop. But if we had the generator head, the generator would run, and we wouldn't need ice.

See what I mean?

Instead of going around in circles like Liza and Henry though, we noodled out this solution:

First we picked up the head (from the hack who broke the exhaust manifold trying to pry it off of the head) and took it to a different machine shop. Ten miles on bicycles in the blazing Florida sun.

Then we paddled back to the boat (we were afraid to trust the transom to support the outboard motor any longer) and heated up the glue joints with the torch, and pulled it all apart.

Next we cleaned all the old adhesive off in preparation for the re-gluing which we hope to start tomorrow.

And finally, the marina allows the mooring ball boats to come alongside the fuel dock now and then for a few hours, so that's how we'll get ice and run necessary chores while our dinghy is healing.

Thank goodness we don't have to keep singing that annoying song.