Playing with Half a Foredeck

The scene through my upstairs window was chilly, but captivating at the same time. There's a certain wonderful quality of light from the low afternoon sun. Filter that light through the fractals of ice as it crawls on the window pane, and it's almost worth staying here year round.

As my wonderlust continued, I found this scene on the Wooden Boat facebook page: a literal "boat house" somewhere in Scotland.

And then of course I left these daydreams behind to mix epoxy and 'glass the centerboard in the basement shop. I had a lot of remnants of 'glass from various cuttings through the summer. It didn't make sense to roll out a full sheet for the centerboard when I could use a few sheets that would be perfectly acceptable. In some way, this would actually be stronger than just one sheet as the overlaps will provide extra support.

Laid out the 'glass.

I found a leftover wider piece and used that for the bottom half, then cut a smaller strip for the top half from the big roll. Both ends were in good shape, removing the need to feather and taper where they met. In other words, I could do this at one time and not have to wait for the bottom half to cure in order to clean up the top.

Half the centerboard 'glassed. This is just the first weave layer of epoxy.

I also cut a couple darts here and there around the curve, especially by the corner. I imagine, of the whole centerboard, this corner will get beat up the most. It's unfortunate it's also one of the more difficult areas to lay 'glass.

Close up of trailing edge. Earlier posts showed voids here and there, now fixed. Some darts helped the bends.

On the straight leading edge, I wrapped about 3" under and applied epoxy there. It required a little bit of technique as I was working effectively upside down, but it came out really nice. The hours spent shaping and sanding were worth it as the 'glass went on like a charm. Granted, I'm better at this than I was a few months ago, but mostly, I learned that proper prep can make or break a good layout.

View of the "underside." This is where about 2" wraps over the leading edge and up against the other side. I was worried I'd get a lot of bubbles or whatnot here, but it went on great.

A few hours later, I was on a quest for more offcuts as I went for the flip. The only downside to the offcut method is that the overlapping 'glass takes up more epoxy than a single layer. That might seem intuitive, but hey, I never said this would be a deep blog. I trimmed back the overlap and various odd angles to that there was about 3 inches at most of double fiberglass.

Found more offcuts. This is a set of 4 arranged in a compelling pattern.

Wetting down the 'glass.

Down the length - this is where the table saw ate my centerboard, 'glassed over. All good now.

I wrapped another 3" around the other as I did the other side, thereby having 2 layers of fiberglass on the trailing edge. When all of that cures, I'll add a strip of 9 oz 'glass here, too. Bring on the logs!

Underside, 2nd layer of 'glass.

I'll be painting my centerboard and would like to add a design, like a big eye ball on each side to make it look to sea critters like a big fish; maybe then they'll leave me alone. With my luck, they'll try to mate with me. I thought about (albeit too late) epoxy'ing some design in there, like they do with Kaholo stand up paddle boards. But alas, eyeballs will have to do.

Beautiful stand up paddle board built by Boat Building by the Bay.

I hate using up supplies on relatively short projects. The foam rollers are about 50 cents each; my gloves are 5 cents. Yes, I know. My Vetus portholes will be 900 times more expensive. But darn it, I'm gonna save those 50 cents. So before I geared down, I looked around to see what else I could 'glass. The dogs were not immediately available, neither was the TV. The triangle-shaped piece that is the foredeck volunteered itself, so I propped it up on the would-be router table and set off to find more offcuts for the 'glassing.

Now, 'glassing the underside of the foredeck is not specifically called for in the manual, but it's recommended. This is an area that gets pounded by anchors, by people standing on it, sitting, whatever. Just a little extra piece of mind that takes just a little extra work. I'll be doing the same to the cockpit decks over the next couple weeks.

Same as before, I found some strips of scrap fiberglass (kept in good shape of course) and layered them on. I did the left (aft) half first and let that cure overnight because, unlike the scraps used for the centerboard, the edges weren't as good, and I needed to feather it down some. The aft half is actually visible in the cabin as it is the ceiling of the forward locker. I'll do at least a second layer tonight and be done playing with the half foredeck until it's time to sand.

Bow deck underside with fiberglass layers. Looks like a Christmas tree.

One sheet 'glassed.

Next day, did the others

With that curing, I started fitting the pieces for the cockpit locker dashboards. I plan to put speakers in there with a couple 12v outlets.

Fitting the locker speakers. They'll have to be trimmed back a bit but otherwise fit well.

Though I'm a few months off from making this a reality, the plan is to copy the "solid" seatback supports and install a second one just a couple inches aft of the structural one. This will reduce the space in the locker by a little bit; the upside is I'll have the cockpit as I want it without affecting the flotation. The wires will run down behind this wall into the laz area where the bus bars await, then forward to the battery. If I can only figure out where to install the VHF antenna that would end the planning phase of the electrical.

Note: The work represented here took place over 3 days, with lots of waiting for stuff to dry in between. Everything got 3 coats of epoxy and is now awaiting sanding.

Centerboard Shaping

Although the high today was 40 degrees higher than last week's, it's still just over freezing. I briefly entertained the idea of cranking up the heat to warm the garage, but it would just go towards the utility company's holiday party as the nighttime temps will be in the teens. It was back to the basement shop then, which hadn't seen a spring cleaning since the spring 1994. The first thing I had to do was clean the place up, including the spillover area of the family room. This took quite a bit of time but it's nice to work in a clean space again.

Neighbor got a coffee bean roaster for Christmas. We were beneficiaries.

Rudder, tiller, and boom gallows sit ready for next steps.

Decking behind the couch got moved elsewhere so we can see things now.

Suffice to say, this did NOT look like this a couple hours earlier.

I was ready (and so was the room) for the centerboard. This is one of those things I was sort of looking forward to, sort of not. Sort of not because I knew this would be a winter project when I put it aside after the lead pour. Sort of not because I've never shaped a board before and was afraid I'd muck it up. Sort of because a centerboard is so lovingly a part of sailing I would not be building a sailboat if there weren't a centerboard. Like everything else, it needed quite a bit of prep work: getting all the edges cleaned up, filling in yet more thickened epoxy for the leading and trailing edges, and fixing the table saw disaster from what seems like a really long time ago.

Table saw trough needed filler. Couple divots filled in from lead pour, too.

Filler applied and allowed to dry.

Finally, it was ready to shape. Of course, just when I was about to begin, I ran out of 60 grit paper for my random orbital.

Just getting started. Right about here I ran out of 60 grit. Note the 4" curve.

One of the benefits of cleaning is that I found a lot of partly used sandpaper. I figured that'd be better than nothing. It was better than nothing, but not much better than nothing. After a trip to the Big Box store - and I impressed myself with my control because I walked out of there with exactly one set of 60 grit paper and another set of 40 for my belt sander - I was back in the shop again. This was enough to tide me over until my Amazon order comes in. I did check with the lumberyard to see if they'd be able to order 16' clear pine. Some flunky said they could but the lumberyard master was not available. I tucked that bit of information away with all the other random assorted crap I need to follow up on whenever I remember it.

When I got home, I geared up, started Pandora (Tricia Yearwood station) and sanded away. I haven't seen a lot of detail on this process on other blogs, but it was a good four hours worth of sanding. Okoume marine plywood is really good plywood. It's tough to sand, though, but when sanded it's even, without any voids, visible glue, or any of the usual bad things that come out of plywood. I've worked with Baltic Birch before and that stuff is pretty good, but not as good as this. Of course, that meant it took twice the amount of time I thought it would.

Good progress. Each "side" took about an hour.

When I got tired of using the random orbital, I used the belt sander. Slowly, the plywood gave way. Each layer became a mark I could use for the next. Pretty quickly, there was a good rhythm between me, the sander, and Tricia Yearwood. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and in fact quite pleasant to see the shape come to life.

This sat in my garage behind a pile of scrap wood for the better part of six months. To see this rescued from a veritable trash bin and now formed on my table was a bit of a thrill. As I was shaping, I could imagine this slicing through Lake Superior while on a reach; or, the top bit of it tucked into its trunk as I settled in for the night. This is one of those parts that really needs loving care, something I may have forgotten during my obsession with the wiring a few weeks back. A bad connection with a cabin light, and a $4 light strip doesn't work. A poor job of my centerboard and I'll be drifting in circles, or worse.

Still, there was so much work to do. A surprisingly large void showed itself around the bend. I can see how this happened: for this to sit level, I would've had to prop the other, awkward end up. As it was, epoxy flowed away from this corner the way I let it sit, hence the void.

Epoxy voids from the original pour. This is partly due to the haphazard way the rabbet got filled. Any time I had extra epoxy, I dumped it in here. There was bound to be some mucking up.

Filler epoxy applied and allowed to dry.

More voids to fill in. Expected some but maybe not this much.

About 85% done. Stopped to fill in the voids to sand later.

One of the trickiest bits is to ensure there's a foil shape to the centerboard. The leading edge (the long, flat edge) gets a "bullet" shape and some 'glass wrapped around it. The trailing edge (the curve) gets a really fine taper to 1/16". I left mine about 1/4" but will take it down the rest of the way as I get the voids at the same time.

"Bullet" leading edge gets 'glass wrapped around it.

Top view of the leading edge.

Hopefully, I'll have time to finish the shaping and get to the 'glassing. I plan to paint this white, figuring any little bit helps fight moisture. After that, I'm not sure what to start next (ideas in the comments appreciated). I'd really like to do the tabernacle and/or the companionway, but both make me nervous as I'd rather have the boat ready to ensure I get the right sizes and angles. We'll see.

How the Other Half Lives II

And by the title, I mean those who live in nice weather, where the garage door doesn't freeze shut because the snow that fell four weeks ago, still there, is now ice. My wife and I took our mileage run to San Diego last weekend. (A mileage run is earning those last few miles necessary to hit an elite status on an airline.)

So we figured out what we needed, found a good fare, and hopped on a plane to San Diego. For me, that makes three consecutive weekends on a plane: Orlando, Las Vegas, and San Diego. One of our running jokes is that we live here to leave here. I like to think we've lived up to that so far.

Back in the summer, both of us earned our ASA 101 certification as we work our way up the ASA and experience ladder with the idea to charter a boat for our friend's wedding in the USVI in October. San Diego has a lot of charter companies. Most of them require a "membership fee" which ranges from $295 to $400. That allows you to charter a boat from $20 a day to $250 a day with a wild variation in the type of boat. I didn't want to be in an open boat in the Pacific. Similarly, I didn't want to splurge for something I'd be on for six hours. Maybe if I were heading to the Coronados, but we weren't, so we didn't

I was getting depressed: The boats we were looking at were in the range of $150 - $350, on top of the membership fee. Way too much for a day sail. Finally, I found an outfit that did not require a membership and had reasonable boats for charter at a reasonable rate. They also accepted our ASA 101's plus a little experience as proof we wouldn't totally muck things up. We settled on a Catalina 27 from the San Diego Sailing Academy. If you're in the area, ask for Nick, and say hi for us. So, we headed down to the marina at the appointed hour, did our checkout, and were suddenly on the way out to the Pacific. Amazingly, no one changed their minds and came after us as we motored this beautiful boat out of the marina, down the channel, and out to sea.

Follow the yellow brick road.

I followed a small regatta of sailing students being towed at low throttle. But once Point Loma cleared, a brisk wind cut across the bow that threatened a knockdown if we weren't trimmed right. Our briefing warned us of that which is why we didn't raise the main in the channel as some other boats did. But now that we were clear: head to wind and raise the mains'il!  Aarrgh!

We were told before shoving off that the winds would kick up to 15kn around 11am and stay there until about 4, with gusts to 25kn. Nick said the weather would stay clear otherwise. The Catalina didn't have jiffy reefing and we were eager to set sail. So if we got a good puff, we'd furl the genoa as the first reef. If we got nice southerlies, we'd head north and run the coast to Mission Bay. If we got northerlies, we'd head south along the harbor, keeping the city on our port side. Our wind was decidedly northerly, which put us on a reach while heading west and on a run towards Mexico. Really couldn't have drawn up a better wind as it was a steady 10kn most of the day once clear of the peninsula.

Winds kicked up just as we exited the channel.

Turning away from Point Loma towards Mexico.

Anita at the helm, about 6 miles offshore.

After a couple hours, I got a note from our friends at Verizon that somehow we crossed into Mexican waters (or is it air space?) Either way, made for a cool notch on the sailing belt: sailed in Mexico.

Bienvenidos a Mexico!

 

Coronado islands in distance, about 8 miles from us.

Afternoon sun on the water. Genoa was furled a bit.

Skipper with a refreshment, steering with feet.

New friends.

What a great day. We did about 15 miles total, not counting the wide circles we took while heading in, nor the small circles around the buoys for closeups of the seals. I started my GPS tracker but it stopped recording pretty early on the trip. A nice reference point was the last (or first) buoy in San Diego harbor, the safe water channel marker. Nick the SDSA guy said this channel marker was six miles from Shelter Island. We were either really moving or it wasn't six miles out as we hit the marker in about 30 minutes once the sails were up, not counting the motoring down the channel.

Safe water buoy, the last (or first?) buoy in San Diego Bay.

It wasn't far from here that we saw a pod of dolphins chasing a school of fish. We followed them for awhile but they were moving really fast into the wind. That may have been on porpoise. A couple days later, we saw another group along Mission Bay playing with the surfers, though I suppose it could've easily been the same group.

Saw dolphins catching fish.

But soon the sun started its trek past its halfway point on its way to setting around 4:45pm. We had to be back in the dock by 4:30 or else they'd charge us for another day. In the channel on the way back, we ran into the last of the racers. I have to admit I was annoyed at these guys. Since the wind was coming straight down the channel, along the harbor, the only way they could make headway was to tack hard across the channel. So as we were motoring back, casually taking in the last vestiges of the day, we had to avoid these guys zipping back and forth in front of us. At one point, one was coming up so fast and so cluelessly we had to get out of the way, though by all rights, we were the stand on vessel as we were being overtaken in the channel, even though we were motoring. He thanked us as he went by but soon dropped his sails and started rowing.

I don't mean to sound like that cranky old guy, but hardly anyone followed the old "red, right, returning" rule. There were more boats outside the buoys than inside and those inside were bumping up against the green. In other words, driving on the wrong side of the road. Maybe they were all Italians? I mentioned this to Nick and he said we should see it July 4. Given that we saw, easily, 500 boats docked and moored in the marina, and most of them would've been out on a holiday weekend, no thanks.

Two racers head back to the marina. Still racing.

This is the boat that almost hit us. Nice boat - strip plank racer.

Sunset at the marina walking back to car.

Safely back at harbor and declining the $50 to overnight on the boat, we drove the three blocks back to the hotel and made arrangements for the evening. As luck would have it, we were treated to yet another lighted boat show. This stuff is probably old hat to marinas around the world, but I'd never seen one before, and two parades in three weeks was enough to send me giddy with delight.

Parade of lights just off Shelter Island.

A couple days later, on our final day with time to kill, we headed down to the Embarcadero, which is to be the refurbished docking area for cruise ships and tall ships and other assorted ships. The Star of India is docked here. This is one incredible boat with such a rich history. Plus, it was really cool to see in person.

Star of India. The boat, not me.

We then headed for the airport and settled in for the 3+ hour flight home. Outside my window passed the Coronado Islands, a couple nipples on the sea that rise just a couple hundred feet tall and 12 miles off shore. With a little time and energy, this is easily reached from the marina. But that will have to wait another for another day, and perhaps then I'll splurge the extra $50 to overnight.

Coronado Islands from the air. Will step foot on these some day.

How the Other Half Lives

I began the arduous and long-overdue chore of clearing the garage. I keep hoping for a slight rise in temperature to keep working, but it just isn't going to happen. We had a high in the single digits today; the irony in that sentence is not lost on me. So, I pulled the power tools, hand tools, and paint from the garage to thaw in the basement shop. I also dragged out the centerboard and the bits and pieces that will serve as winter projects. I also have the Macgregor tiller and rudder I plan to rebuild but that's a whole 'nother level of effort I'm just not prepared to deal with right now. And when I can't deal with stuff, I get on a plane and go somewhere else.

That somewhere turned out to be Las Vegas for a couple days last week. By my count, I've been to Vegas 14 times, 12 times for work, so the idea of going yet again was about as palatable as going to prison for the 14th time. Not that I've been there one time, but you know what I mean. As soon as the conference wrapped and my boss was safely tucked away in the airport on the way to her long weekend on the east coast, I fired up the rental car and headed for Lake Havasu, about 2.5 hours away. But before I left, I ran a quick inventory of who I could contact in Havasu.

That list was unfortunately very slim, but there was one person I've actually wanted to meet for awhile: Sean Mulligan, he of the Lake Havasu Pocket Cruiser Convention. I wrote him a quick email that basically said, "Hi, you don't know me, but I like boats and you like boats and I'll be there in 2 hours. Give me a call." An hour later, while I was somewhere in the middle of Arizona, Sean did, indeed, call. We decided to meet just across from London Bridge (yes, that one) where he said he'd take me around town for a few minutes.

After a tour of the marina, we stopped by his house to see if his wife wanted to head out with us. She politely declined after a long day at work, so we headed back to the water to view the parade of ships. This is an annual event where boats deck themselves out with Christmas lights and sail under London Bridge in the channel. The stores lining the channel alight themselves, too, and a good time will be had by all. I couldn't believe my luck!

But we didn't get very far, because in the garage was a Paradox. Sean purchased Scout from a woman who did a fine job with the boat, and Sean was putting the boat through her paces, running up and down Lake Havasu in various lengths of seamanship marathoning. It was really, really neat to see Scout up close and learn from Sean. Who, by the way, was an awesome sport for taking a stranger under his wing for a couple hours. I hope he doesn't mind me taking and sharing photos here.

Anyone who has had a even a cursory review of this blog will note my obsession with electronics. Seeing how Sean/Scout managed the wiring was great. I really like the Shakespeare mounted forward on the mast, up high where it belongs, but the key is how the VHF cable runs inside the mast and out the bottom into a thru hull. This is similar to what Garage Sail did with his mast treatment, running the owl light wires inside the mast and out the base. Also brilliant is a small anemometer refigured from a bicycle speedometer. A mastlight completes the accessories on Scout. Note the really cool brass fitting that houses the running rigging. While I can't bring myself to add ~5lbs that high, I do appreciate the look and feel of it.

Shakespeare VHF runs forward and through the mast.

Top of the mast. Lots going on here but still light and elegant.

Bottom part of mast ending in the fittings.

Interior of the Paradox. I wouldn't call it roomy, but it has everything needed, including a propane stove.

View from the bow. It looks like a mini-submarine with an enclosed cockpit.

We spent about an hour poking around the boat and talking about what's next, and yet I'm not sure I can quite describe it. Imagine a submarine that sits on top of the water. I say submarine because the cockpit is enclosed, and in fact can be a full canopy if the companionway is pulled all the way back. This allows riding the roughest seas; indeed, these boats have sailed down the eastern seaboard, across the Gulf Stream, and into the Bahamas. This boat isn't quite 14' LOA with a 4.5' beam. A roller furling main allows instant reefing and the water ballast, plus a low center of gravity for the pilot, means self-righting. It'll find an angle and stick there. All our chatting ignored the astounding Montgomery 23 in the driveway, Dauntless. There are only a couple dozen of these in the world, and few as prized as this one. Visiting that one will have to wait until 2015 when the Pocket Cruiser convention returns.

With time running short, since I had to get back to Vegas for my flight home, we finally got to London Bridge and watched the boats go by. Sean knew just about everyone on these boats. Part of him wished he was out there, most of him was glad he was on land.

Thanks, Sean, for your hospitality, generosity, and all around good humor!