From The Pit of Despair to the Valley of Hope

Henry in his natural element.

For months I've been making almost daily forays into The Pit of Despair, a.k.a. the engine room on Oceanus.

Just before we bought Oceanus three years ago Jason, the previous owner, pulled the Perkins 4-108 and rebuilt it. He fired up the engine before we purchased the boat and it ran great. The fuel lines from the engine were stuffed into a five-gallon jug of diesel fuel and there were a few more things that needed finishing up, but the big job was done. Finishing up the rest of the install would be, well, maybe not easy, but something I could do. Or so I thought.

Actually I didn't think about it much. For the first two years we owned the boat my wife and I focused on the fun stuff; finishing the interior of the boat and painting the outside. These were things we knew how to do.

But I had the nagging sensation that I should get things done in the engine room. Here's a partial list of what needed doing: replace prop with correct one, replace raw water pump (the old one leaked around the shaft), rebuild spare fuel-injection pump and replace the one on the engine (it had a fuel leak around the throttle shaft), make new instrument panel, install new fuel tanks, run new fuel lines, install new fuel-tank vents and run vent lines, install secondary fuel filter, replace/upgrade alternator, mount oil filter and raw-water strainer... the list went on.

Before our haul out last year, Jason helped replace the raw-water pump and, with the help of Lance the diver and Jason again, we replaced the prop. That was enough to get the boat safely up the Yaquina River 11 miles to the boatyard and back, but it still left a lot that needed doing.

I thought Jason would be around to coach me on work in the engine room, but (good for him -- sad for me) he moved to Hawaii last fall.

Last winter and spring (we only have two days of summer on the Oregon Coast, which I took off) I worked at finishing up the interior, installing plumbing (another hated job) and cutting down the engine room to-do list. With the latter I got good advice from Henry, a marine engine mechanic from Salem who spends every weekend working on his 50-foot 1950 Stevens motor yacht. He would drop into the engine room and tell me what I was doing wrong and I would change it. (I moved my secondary fuel filter three times.)

Each day I climbed down the hatch my discouragement grew until I began calling the engine room The Pit of Despair. With time running short and faced with some daunting tasks, like changing out the fuel-injection pump, I cried uncle. I was in over my head and I knew it. It took some persuading, including my wife talking to Henry's wife, Kelly, but we finally got a commitment from Henry to help me.

Over the last couple of weekends, he finished most of my list and found several other problems that needed fixing. One was rebuilding the starter, which he took back to his shop and brought back the next weekend. The difference was nothing short of amazing.

Between weekend visits Henry would give me assignments as he found more things that needed doing.

Henry measures for new cables.

Henry spent one long day changing the fuel-injection pump. The old fuel-injection pump leaked fuel from the throttle shaft. It took Henry until late evening to install the newly-rebuilt pump, but we couldn't get the engine started. The hour was late and Henry needed to leave to go to his home and business in Salem the next morning. "Don't worry," Henry said, "the engine kicks over the first time on only about 20 percent of fuel injection pump installs."

I made the new instrument panel, but Henry finished wiring it.

But worry I did. I would wake in the middle of the night worrying. When Saturday came I hoped Henry would have time to work on my engine, but he had another job that needed doing. Saturday evening he came by the boat and dropped off some tools and a battery switch and said he would work on the engine Sunday morning while we were at church. During church I found myself wondering and worrying about how Henry was doing. I'm not used to turning over boat projects to other people.

As we walked back down the dock from church I could see water happily spurting out of the engine exhaust. The engine was running great! All was right with the world.

Henry also installed a battery switch and cables so we can use our house bank to start our engine if our starter bank fails. We can also charge our house bank using our new alternator.

"Now tomorrow I'm going with you when you motor over to the fuel dock to fill your starboard tank," Henry said. "I want to check to make sure there are no leaking fittings."

Henry in his ever-present, faded orange knit cap aboard Oceanus.

It was great to have Oceanus leave the dock again. Henry and I noticed that idle was a little fast, but the engine ran great! The fill up went well with no leaks.

Back in our slip Henry adjusted the throttle and discovered another problem. The throttle and shift cables needed replacing. So next weekend Henry will be back getting Oceanus one more step closer to leaving.

A visit from "Flying Sideways"

Karin and Joe's Flying Sideways looking good at Marina Chiapas, Mexico.

Karin and Joe from Flying Sideways, a Columbia 43 Mark III, visited the Oceanus crew on Saturday. The four of us had a wonderful time as they inspected our boat and we peppered them with questions about cruising in Mexico and farther south.

I've written about Flying Sideways before. She is one of the prettiest 43s around. Over the last three years, Karin, Joe and their dog Jack have sailed her from San Diego to Mexico and Central America. The crews of Oceanus and Flying Sideways followed each other's adventures for the last couple of years on each others' blogs. When we finally met in person they felt like old friends. Let's hear it for the wonders of the internet!

Joe and Karin hard at work.

Karin and Joe are no strangers to adventure. They are both pilots and skydivers each with thousands of jumps to their credit. For the past three years they cruised Flying Sideways in the winter months and then work for the largest skydiving company in the world during the summer in Phoenix, Ariz.

When they won a trip to Portland, Ore., they rented a car and came to Newport to see us. The conversation was non-stop as they inspected our yacht and we quizzed them about their boat and adventures.

They bought Flying Sideways in San Diego and worked on outfitting her for five months before heading south to Mexico. Their first foreign port was Ensenada, which they gave high marks for easy entry into the country with friendly officials and good services. The first season they explored Baja and the Sea of Cortez. Their second season they explored Mexico's Gold Coast all the way to the southern border.

This last season started with the notion of sailing to Panama and Chile, but the ever-flexible crew of Flying Sideways ended up cruising Nicaragua, El Salvador making it as far south as Bahia Ballena in Costa Rica where "everything started to break: water maker boost pump, dingy engine and solar charge controller." They returned to Marina Chiapas in Mexico to lay up their yacht for the summer.

We enjoyed hearing highlights over Virginia's excellent pot roast. Stories like the time the dropped anchor off Zihautenejo and found they were about 100 yards from the main stage during a week-long international guitar festival.

Joe and Karen love the ocean and the desert.

Their love for the people and places they visited is infectious. Their advice and recommendations: pure gold for us. We can't wait to follow in their wake. We look forward to seeing them again. The sooner the better. From virtual friends to real friends. Karin and Joe, we miss you already.

We need your vote!

Sailrite, a company that we've spent a lot of money with during the boat's restoration, is having a contest and we need your vote.

We entered our cushions and pillows in our main cabin. Here's the photo:

Just go here, find our photo and vote for us. We are currently in third place without any effort on our part, other than entering. The two projects in first and second place are POWER BOATS! We can't let them win!

Eight reasons we didn't go north

Eight cute reasons gathered together during the July 4th weekend.

This spring, being our optimistic selves, we thought we could have the boat seaworthy by summer to spend a month or so in Puget Sound close to our kids and grandkids. That didn't happen.

During the July 4th holiday we managed to get all eight grandchildren in one place for a photo. As you can see they are a cute bunch and a real magnet for us. In a way I'm glad we didn't go north first. I'm afraid it would be too hard to leave.

The third anniversary of us becoming the stewards of Oceanus came and went last week. Our to-do lists are still long, but not seemingly endless like at the beginning of this journey. There are many improvement I have yet to report on the blog. I want to take new photos of the boat and have a before-and-after photo set similar to the conclusion of one of those TV makeover shows.

Stay tuned.

Stripper pole safety with true-lover mats

Sailor's true lover mat weave provides secure footing on Oceanus's companionway steps.

The vast majority of injuries (more than 70 percent) aboard a sailboat are the result of falls. Most falls occur while going in or out of the companionway. *

This statistic became real for my friend Kevin, who owns Skylark, a beautiful Columbia 50 he moores on San Diego Bay. Last year his wife fell coming down the companionway ladder when they were anchored at Catalina Island. Her feet were wet from kayaking and she slipped on one of the three wide steps going down into the cabin and broke a rib.

Kevin's beautiful Columbia 50, Skylark, getting ready for a sail on San Diego Bay.

The accident cut the trip short and they made a speed run back to San Diego and the emergency room.

"It's easy to forget just how incredibly slippery things can get when they get wet," Kevin said, "Things getting wet on a boat is an everyday deal. Plus, I'm only getting older and don't heal as fast anymore."

Kevin's quick solution was to install self-adhesive rubber safety treads from Harbor Freight (http://www.harborfreight.com/self-adhesive-rubber-safety-step-tread-98856.html). It seems to be working.

"Elegant?  No.  Functional?  Yes," he said.

Skylark is so elegant that I didn't notice the rubber treads when I was aboard. I was about to follow Kevin's lead and make a trip to Harbor Freight for treads to cover our varnished steps, but my wife had another idea. She suggested that I make rope mats for the steps similar to the ones I made for our previous sailboat, Lobo, a Pearson Renegade.

The pattern for the rope mat is called the sailor's true lover mat weave. I saw it in my old copy of Hervey Garrett Smith's book, The Marlinspike Sailor. Even in Smith's day (before the advent of fiberglass boats and synthetic ropes) sailboat owners used rubber matting on ladder steps. He grants its efficiency, but says: "Neat rope mats, however, are not only just as efficient, but softer under foot, far more interesting, and bespeak a real welcome to the cabin below."

I got out my old copy of the book. I looked at the picture, but try as I might I could not get the knot started. Why I could weave a rope mat 30 years ago, but not now is... well... let's think about something more pleasant, shall we?

Rosella to the rescue

Our friend, Rosella from a few boats down, weaves rope mats. I know this because examples of her work are all over her boat. She's from Western Samoa and started weaving mats and other things when she was a child.

Rosella and Virginia weave rope mats for Oceanus' companionway steps.

She agreed to come to our boat and show us how it's done. She wove the first mat while Virginia knitted and watched. It took a few months to schedule another weaving session. When Rosella returned, she and Virginia wove the last two mats together. Rosella set up the pattern for both mats and then together they wove in the rest of the rope. This kind of activity encourages a lot of visiting and stories. It's the kind of activity that weaves communities together.

After Rosella left, Virginia and I tightened up the mats so they fit the steps. The edges of the mats come right to the edge of each step.

Rosella and Virginia talk story while weaving rope mats.

Once they were the size and shape we wanted I glued them down with white adhesive caulk. Each mat took an entire tube. It's a time consuming task too. You must make sure all the rope is glued down, especially around the edges. It takes time to mold and press the mats into the right shape and clean up the extra caulk that squeezes out as a result.

I installed the top mat three or four months ago. We are pleased with how well it's held up. It looks better with age. The 5/16ths nylon rope used to make the mats is tough and abrasion resistant. Best of all, it provides great traction and feels good when you step on it with bare feet.

Keeping them clean is less of a challenge than I anticipated. A quick vacuum usually does the trick. The steps are removable, so when they get really dirty I can take the steps on deck and give them a good scrub. If they really get ugly we could always paint them. I would hate to do that, however because we would lose some of the cushy feel.

Stripper pole love

The other part of safety around the companionway is having convenient and strong places to grab. A few months ago I installed a brass stripper pole near the companionway. Several visitors to the boat looked at me over their glasses when I point out this safety feature. "Every well-found yacht should have a stripper pole, right?" I said sheepishly.

A view of the weavers from the companionway shows the brass stripper pole.

Since everything aboard needs to serve at least two functions, I used the stripper pole as a leg to our new salon table. I lashed on an L-bracket on with net twine using a French hitch. Now, blessedly, it looks less like a stripper pole.

Two teak grab rails on either side of the companionway complete the safety upgrades.

Making Oceanus safe is a major goal during her refit. Projects to improve safely, like getting in and out of the cabin without falling, are a priority. I can't eliminate all possibilities of falls, but these are some obvious ways to mitigate the risk.

* For you ex-copy editors and researchers out there: I can't remember where I read this, but it stuck in my head. Anyone?

Tales and tips from our haulout

Oceanus after our six-and-a-half week haulout last fall. We are still recovering.

I'm still recovering from last year's haulout, but I think I can finally write about it without suffering a full attack of Post Traumatic Haulout Syndrome.

For the benefit of my brothers and sisters about to put their beloved boat on the hard, I have two stories about what went well and one tip I wish I knew before we splashed the boat.  I still can't talk about some parts of the haulout. Maybe someday after more (sailing) therapy.

Replacing the cutlass bearing

After the crew finished pressure washing our hull, I walked around it looking in wonder at the work that lay before us. It was apparent that something needed to be done about the cutlass bearing. I may have uttered an expletive. OK, I confess. I definitely remember uttering an expletive. Having never replaced a cutlass bearing, or even pulled the propeller shaft, I was intimidated and briefly considered hiring the yard to do it. I'm glad I didn't. (Story to follow.)

The thing that saved me was an excellent set of instructions on the Compass Marine web site. This corner of the web is must reading for DIY boat owners. I followed his directions exactly and had no problems.

After cutting and removing the old bearing I polished the inside of the strut using my Dremel tool and a red scrubbing attachment.

The new cutlass bearing.

The setup with the all-thread rod, three nuts and three washers.
I put some grease between the two washers on the business end.

Almost there...

...and we're done with no drama.

First you remove propeller shaft. Then you can try to tap out the old cutlass bearing. Just looking at my cutlass bearing I knew this wouldn't work so I went to the second option. Using a hacksaw, I cut most of the way through the old cutlass bearing and used a screwdriver and hammer to bend it in on itself. I could then easily tap it out.

As I cut out the old cutlass bearing, a yard employee stopped by to offer advice. The employee was always friendly and tried to be helpful. This occasion was no different.

"Once you get the old one out," he advised, "all you do is take the new cutlass bearing, grease it up good with liquid dish soap and bang it in with a big ol' hammer. Nothing to it."

Using liquid dish soap to lubricate the new cutlass bearing during installation is good advice. And I took it. Banging it in with a big hammer... not so good. The yard employee may have been able to pull this off, but I doubt it. Had I elected to hire the yard to install it we would have found out. He would have been the yard employee assigned to the task. The Compass Marine method is a sure thing and easier on the cutlass bearing, not to mention the propeller strut. It's not as exciting as the yard employee's method, but haulouts are never short of that kind of excitement.

Instead of a hammer, I used a two-foot length of one-inch all-thread rod. I had this left over from another project and it was perfect for this application. You put two nuts and a washer on one end to lock the nut on the rod, slide the rod through the hole in the strut, slide on the new cutlass bearing (well lubed with liquid dish soap) and thread on a third nut with a washer. Turn the third washer with a wrench. I needed the biggest wrench I had and used all the leverage I could to overcome the friction of the cutlass bearing sleeve sliding into the strut -- but no trauma, no drama. Easy.

Sealing the mast

I use "Capt. Ron's Never-Leak Super Spar Seal (TM)" to seal around my mast. You will not find this wonder product in your local chandlery or even the West Marine catalog or Fisheries Supply. But you will find it in your local hardware store in the plumbing section under it's more common name "Toilet Bowl Wax." It will set you back all of about a dollar. You will even have some wax left over for emergencies. I've been using it now for about two years and I'm sold on the product. And not just because I'm a cheap #*(&$^d.

Sealing a mast is never easier than with "Capt. Ron's Never-Leak Super Spar Seal (TM)." In this photo I tried some rescue tape around the mast collar to dress things up, but it didn't last and it wasn't necessary.

Here are the advantages: It's cheap, available anywhere people use toilets, easy - almost fun - to gob in with a putty knife, quick to install and de-install, and -- best of all -- it never leaks.

The only disadvantage I've found is that it's hard to get off the deck. Once, when I wasn't paying attention, I dragged the hose over it. Some got on the hose and then on the deck. Scrubbing with soap and water wouldn't touch it -- as you might expect, but it was easy to remove with mineral spirits.

When I hauled out it was quick and easy to dig out most of the wax in preparation for the crew to pull the spar. After I launched, the yard crew stepped the mast just as rain clouds gathered. I quickly tightened the stays and dove into the cabin for my "Capt. Ron's Never-Leak Super Spar Seal (TM)." In 10 minutes I had the mast hole watertight just as it started to pour. I can't think of another product that would work in that compressed timeline.

I have a friend here at the marina that used a fancy (read: expensive), two-part compound in a kit to seal the mast on his Ingrid 38. It worked OK until he decided to tune his rig. Then it leaked like nothing was there at all. Another friend used the same product and didn't wax well enough and the yard had a heck of a time when they tried to pull his mast, which increased the cost of pulling the mast and damaged his boat.

Some people I've told about toilet wax are concerned it will melt when it gets hot. In the Northwet this is NEVER a problem, but it might be when I go south, say in Mexico. The person who told me about "Capt. Ron's Never-Leak Super Spar Seal (TM)" cruised Mexico and the western Caribbean and had no problems with melting wax. We will see.

I keep a spare ring of toilet bowl wax around for emergency leak repairs and to remind me how grateful I am that do not to own a house anymore.

What I wish I knew

After we splashed our boat, an update to a blog I follow arrived in my email. The couple say they always ask to be the first boat launched in the morning. Then they ask the yard to put them in the travel lift slings at the end of the workday before launching. That way they can coat the bottom of their keel and have it dry over night.

Oh well, there's always a next time.

The Mystery Dinghy goes to rehab

After some extensive work, our Mystery Dinghy is ready for relaunching. 

When I bought our 8.5-foot fiberglass dinghy last summer off an ad on Craig's List, I knew she would need some work. Her teak inwales and outwales were in splinters, her thwarts were in need of repair and her bottom was covered with scars. I also wanted to reinforce her transom and install quarter knees since she was going to have a small outboard. And she just would never look right in my eyes without a breasthook.

Just how much work to do on the dinghy was a matter of philosophical debate with Virginia. Do we make it beautiful to match Oceanus? Or do we make her strong, but not fix her cosmetically so she's less appealing to would-be dinghy thieves? In the end beauty won out -- as it should.

Rowing the Mystery Dinghy for the first time was a real pleasure; she rows like a dream.

To begin with, the dinghy is inherently beautiful. We call it the Mystery Dinghy because we don't know the designer or builder. Whoever built the boat really had a good eye: the beautiful sheer, near perfect proportions, and nicely spiled lapstrake planking, are all evidence of good design well executed. She also rows like a dream. It's tough to get all that right in such a small package, as evidenced by the many ugly dinghies I see that don't row worth a damn. Not giving her a good finish and fixing her cosmetic problems would not do her justice.

The Mystery Dinghy is now papered with a HIN and registration number and sticker.

Another thing we had to fix was her documentation: there wasn't any. The guy I bought the dinghy from had no title and didn't know the builder or any previous owners beyond who he got it from.

There was no builder's plate and no Hull Identification Number (HIN), although the boat was clearly professionally built. Since it didn't have a HIN, it was built most likely before 1972 when the Coast Guard started requiring the numbers. That mean's she is about the same age as Oceanus, built in 1971.

I applied for a new HIN, title and registration from the Oregon State Marine Board and got the Sheriff's Marine Deputy to inspect the dinghy. After a few months, the Marine Board sent us a new title, registration and HIN. Because she is under 12 feet and is used as a tender to a documented vessel, we perhaps didn't need to pay the extra for full registration. But because we will have an outboard I wanted to be on the safe side. Now that we were legal, we could start the restoration.

I removed the thwarts and old inwales and outwales, and cut holes cut for inspection ports. The pattern for the quarter knees is in the upper left of the photo.

The biggest project was to remove and replace the teak inwales and outwales on the sheer strake. The old ones were originally riveted an glued and screwed into place. Taking them off was a chore. The tool of the hour was my trusty grinder with a metal-cutting blade.

I used the old pieces as a rough pattern to make the new outwales. The new inwales were different because of the addition of new quarter knees and a breast hook. I felt the dingy needed these for a couple of reasons: First, because she would have a small outboard, it would serve to better tie the transom to the rest of the boat and strengthen it. Second, they provide excellent places to grab when muscling a dinghy aboard a boat or up the beach. Third, they are beautiful and the dinghy's traditional look demanded it. I made the edges smooth and well rounded over so they feel good to your hands as you grab them.

I put nearly ever clamp I had to use when installing the inwales, outwales, quarter knees and breasthook.

Installing the new inwales, outwales, quarter knees and breasthook took nearly every clamp I had in the shop. All the clamps outweighed the dinghy, I'm sure. I cleaned the surfaces to be glued with acetone and coated them with epoxy mixed with cabosil filler and clamped them in place. Once they were where I wanted them, I drilled, countersunk and screwed them on for good measure. Later, after the epoxy kicked, I removed the clamps and Virginia plugged the holes with plugs made from cutoffs so they would match.

The new teak breasthook is nice to look at and a great handhold right where you need it.

The dinghy was now structurally sound. We could have quit there and had a perfectly serviceable dinghy. But we decided to go for beautiful.

Next, I mixed some epoxy filler and started filling the dings, old screw holes and other imperfections before we could paint. The bottom of the dinghy was especially challenging. Below the waterline it was covered with small pock marks in the gelcoat. My guess is that she was left in the water for a season and when someone scraped off the barnacles devits of  gelcoat came with them. She looked less like she suffered from acne and more like she survived a bad case of smallpox. Filling and sanding between the keel and the laps was the toughest part.

Virginia puts the first coat of black paint on the sheer strake.

Once all the filling and sanding and filling and sanding was complete, the dinghy got a final sand all over with 220-grit sandpaper. Then Virginia worked her magic with paint. During our recent trip to Minney's in Newport, Calif., we scored a quart of black and quart of white EasyPoxy one-part polyurethane paint for less than half price. Virginia painted the outside of the dinghy white with the exception of the sheer strake, which she painted black.

After she gave each color two coats, we turned the dinghy over to paint the inside. Virginia mixed a little of the black paint in with the remaining white to get a light grey for the inside. While the paint was still wet, I sprinkled some glass beads into the paint where we wanted non-skid and stippled it with a foam brush loaded with the grey paint. When it dried, the results looked and felt good.

Stippling paint on the non-skid parts of the dinghy's sole.

The dinghy's thwarts are made up of slats of teak attached to a frame and then screwed into the dinghy. They are light weight and surprisingly comfortable. I replaced a couple of broken slats, sanded and varnished the whole assembly while they were out of the boat.

A closeup of the quarter knee also shows the rejuvenated seat thwart.

Before we painted I applied several coats of my linseed oil and spar varnish mix to the new wood on the dinghy. I also carved the new HIN in the transom. Now that the dinghy was painted, I applied three coats of spar varnish. The wood glowed. I screwed in the rehabbed thwarts and she could have passed as new.

But we weren't finished yet. We attached the new registration numbers and sticker. Then we attached the new Dinghy Dogs. These are inflatable tubes that attach to the sides of the dinghy. They will add stability when getting in and out of the dinghy while diving or boarding from Oceanus. They should also help keep the boat upright when landing her through the surf. The best part is they don't drag in the water so the dinghy will still row well.

Dinghy Dogs attached.

Virginia and I got the Dinghy Dogs idea from Lin and Larry Pardey. They are similar to what they put on their fiberglass dinghy. With the addition, they say their dinghy could serve as a life raft in emergencies. This makes more sense to me than buying an expensive, single-purpose life raft that you must pay someone else to repack every few years. I've spent time in these kinds of life rafts when I took a Safety at Sea class. I don't like them. I would much rather be in a dinghy set up with additional flotation. I also don't like equipment that I can not, by law, maintain myself. The horror stories about this are legion.

We completed the work on the dinghy a couple of weeks ago, but other jobs and bad weather have kept us from relaunching her. We are eager to try out the Dinghy Dogs and the new outboard, but we want to do it when the weather is calm so we can get to know her. It looks like we may get our break soon.