There's No Going Back

It’s that time of year again when the snow starts falling at the homestead announcing that winter was on the way. This year it caught us by surprise at the end of an otherwise beautiful November.

 As soon as the snow came we knew it was time to head south towards warm, sunny days and cold margaritas. After last year’s 3-month stay in the work yard, or “on the hard” as we sailors say, our plan was to spend no more than 2 weeks preparing the boat for the water before splashing, (why we continue to find plans a necessary component to our lives when they rarely proceed as expected is beyond me).

The first job upon arriving at the boat is always the same: pressure wash away most of the accumulated filth from being left unattended for months in a dirt yard so that we can remove all the sails, deflated dinghy, fuel jugs, solar panels, etc. that have been stored inside the boat to protect them from the elements and store them on deck until we are able to put them all in their proper places. After checking for any rain leaks inside the boat, the cleaning process continues indoors—it’s amazing how much dirt can find its way inside (the bottom may be water tight, but the topsides are definitely not airtight). Once the boat is again livable and enough things put back in their proper places to have room to maneuver on deck, it’s time to start the planned projects for the season, which for this season was planned to be minimal.

Ask any sailor, time on the hard, while a necessary evil, is never fun and always takes longer than you hoped it would. It is a time suck where every 10-minute job takes hours and each half-day project take a week. Additionally, one completed project leads to two more unanticipated projects and at least one “kinda’ major” thing that you find that has to be taken care of before reentering the water.

Our first delay was a bit silly in retrospect. We realized that we had forgotten our small lithium battery that powers our small electric motor for our dinghy. Now, with the exception of our very first trip under the Golden Gate to Mexico where a friend had loaned us an old, small 3hp Johnson outboard that we still refer to lovingly as “Johnny”, we have been rowing our boat ashore for over 20 years. (Johnny, may he rest in peace, only lasted until we got to La Cruz, Nayarit, where he jumped off the boat upon being started in gear and propelled himself to the bottom of what was then an anchorage and now a big marina. Try as we might to dive down to rescue him, the water was too murky to see, so there in Banderas Bay became his final resting place.) After so many years of rowing, last season we switched to an electric trolling motor. It was soooo nice not to have to rely on our own muscles to get ashore. It gave us so many more options for anchoring as well. In our pre-motor days we always inched our way towards the land to get as close as possible so that we could more easily row ashore, while trying not to get so close that a low tide or swing of the anchor would settle us on the bottom. Having a motor was so nice in fact that we both decided that there was no going back! Lithium batteries are next to impossible to find at any price in Mexico, so that meant a trip back to the states. We ordered a new battery to be delivered to our good friends in Arizona (4 hours closer than having it delivered to our home with the added bonus of no possibility of snow).

You may be thinking that’s only a 2-day delay, however, the biggest delay was that we not only brought back with us a lithium battery, but a nasty cold for each of us! Mine hit on the drive back. Jim’s hit a few days later after he thought he was out of the woods, so to speak. Neither of us felt like doing much of anything for a good week and were moving slowly and tiring easily for another week after that. But at least we weren’t sentenced to mandatory rowing for the season!

A delay that was anticipated (sort of), was the replacement of our depth sounder that if you followed along last season you will remember was acting up at the most inopportune times. We always sail well off-shore, so we don’t have to worry about depth. Anchoring is when it becomes important so that: a) you don’t hit the bottom and b) you know how much anchor chain to let out so that you don’t just drag along the bottom. (For our non-sailing readers this is called scope. We usually like to put out at least 5:1 scope, but in a challenging situation we may need 10:1 scope.) But I digress…Back to changing the depth sounder. We were hoping that we would unplug the old transducer and the new one would fit right in the old hole. No such luck. Not only did we have to cut a bigger hole in the hull (say that 10 times fast: hole in the hull, hole in the hull…not easy!), but Jim needed to fabricate a couple of wedge pieces to fiberglass to the inside and out of the hull so that the transducer faced downward instead of outward due to the slope of our hull since there wasn’t enough left of the old wedges once the bigger hole was cut. We are very happy with how it all turned out. It is more accurate than the older one and the display is much easier to read.

Speaking of anchors, a subject that I momentarily digressed to before, we scored a “new to us” one from our neighbor on the hard for the low price of a case of Pacifico beer (we also threw in a bottle of tequilla for good measure). This was an incredible deal as anchors are quite expensive—as are all things “boat”. I hesitate to even discuss anchors because in the sailing world anchors are an inflamatory topic that most everyone has a very strong opinion about. But since most of our audience are non-sailors and aren’t likely to have an opinion one way or another, I’ll forge ahead. *Those of you who are sailors reading this should note that like the subject of religion and politics, while we have our opinions, we completely respect your right to have your own ideas and attitudes about anchors.

Our main anchor has always been a CQR (one of the oldest tried and tested “modern” anchors designed after a field plow, thus referred to as a plough style anchor), and our backup anchor a CQR knock-off. We have been completely happy with our experiences with the CQR and found good holding in many different situations. Sure, we have drug anchor a few times, but typically it has been in extreme situations. The supposed holy-grail of anchors is the Rocna—which due to the exceedingly high price point we will never likely try. However, Jim has always wanted to try a Bruce anchor (a claw style anchor that many sailors swear by), not because he is unhappy with our 1930’s technology anchor, but out of curiosity to try the newer 1970’s technology. So, we set up the Bruce as our primary and moved the CQR to the backup position for now. At the time of writing this, the Bruce is setting easily and holding well, though we haven’t seen any challenging situations. If we have any issues, you will read about it here I’m sure. I should also note that this isn’t a true test for judgement against our CQR as the Bruce is a bit heavier.

Another delay was finding a crack on the rudder, (that’s what hangs on the back of the boat and steers her). We have a full, stern-hung rudder that is quite beefy, and while it wasn’t a large crack, nor did it seem to be in a place that receives much pressure, we felt it best to repair it. This meant grinding and sanding followed by more fiberglass work before grinding and sanding it back into the proper shape. The thing with fiberglass work is that the strength comes from its layers. And each layer has to set up before the next layer is put on, so it takes quite a bit of time to do a proper job. Time well spent for peace of mind—he did a nice job too!

It wasn’t all work, work, work. We did take a day off to go to the beach in San Carlos and relax for a day!

As our projects were going well and seeing the end in sight, we scheduled with the travel-lift to put the boat in the water the Monday before Christmas. Merry Christmas! Then went to one of our favorite restaurants in Guaymas to celebrate with on order of the Hawaiymas (a play on words for a tostado with pineapple, raw tuna, avocado, jalapenos and cucumbers mixed in a deliciously spicy and slightly sweet sauce—Hawaii + Guaymas = Hawaiymas, get it?), shrimp quesadillas and fish tacos. Yummy celebration.

The day after scheduling and celebrating, we continued with the last few jobs. One of these being starting up the engine. It is a water-cooled engine, so we set up the hose to the seawater intake strainer and turned the key. It started up immediately and purred like a kitten—this brought a smile to both our faces. Then we put it into gear only to hear an awful grinding noise along with a violent vibration. Not good! After taking some time to think it over and talk to others in the yard, Jim figured it was either the improbable worst case of a bent prop shaft, or the cutlass bearing had worn out. So, our course of action was to replace the cutlass bearing and hope that resolved the problem.

Had we celebrated too soon? We did not have a spare cutlass bearing. We would have to order one to be shipped, and the week before Christmas it was unlikely that we would find expedited shipping at any cost that would get us in the water as scheduled. And even if we did, it would take a miracle to get everything pulled apart and put back together in time. But I refused to cancel our splash date—after all, 'tis Christmas, the season of miracles, right?

So, what is a cutlass bearing? Well, there is a metal tube that sits inside a thingy that is bolted and sealed onto the back of the boat. The cutlass bearing slides tightly into the metal tube and has a rubber seal where the propeller shaft goes through the boat. I don’t want to get too technical here, but the tightness and seal of all these components is pretty important to keep water from flooding into the boat.

While trying to figure out how to get a new cutlass bearing, we begin the most challenging part of this project—the disassembly. The problem with non-moving metal on metal parts in saltwater is corrosion, which makes it seem to grow together in a permanent seal. So, we first sprayed PB Blaster (a corrosion dissolving lubricant), all over where the propeller attaches to the prop shaft and where the cutlass bearing slides into the metal tube and let it sit overnight. While we hoped the PB Blaster was working its magic, we went shopping. At one auto parts store we found a gear puller to remove the propeller and at another some anti-seize for re-installing the cutlass bearing. On a whim with no real expectation of finding it, we decided to go to a small store we found earlier this year that caters mostly to the fishing industry but may be a resource to find a cutlass bearing. They spoke very little English. We didn’t know the word for the cutlass part of cutlass bearing (We have found that Google Translate is useless for technical/mechanical parts. It is very literal and wanted to translate cutlass as machete). So, I looked up a picture of one, and they knew exactly what it was! It turns out Equipesca is like the marine version of your local Napa. They have several stores in the area and are able to get what you need from another store that has it by the next day. We were skeptical, but when we arrived the next day, not only did they have the exact product we planned to order online from the states, but it was about half the price! Our Christmas miracle was well underway.

Now to get everything pulled apart without destroying anything in the process. The propeller needed to come off first. Jim had the gear-puller wrenched down pretty tight while tapping and banging (but not too hard), on it for at least an hour before it pulled loose. Next the cutlass bearing had to be removed. It sits about 3 inches inside the metal tube I mentioned. He used the grinder to clean up the ½ inch that is exposed and used a large pair of channel locks to pull and twist and tap…no luck. So, he decided he needed to disassemble the entire tube and metal thingy that attaches to the boat. He didn’t want to damage or distort any of the other pieces, so he could only bang on it so hard. He was considering using his grinder or borrowing a reciprocating saw to cut the bearing so he could bend it to get it out—for the record I was against this as it seemed nearly impossible not to cut into the tube in the process no matter how careful one was. Then our neighbor suggested using one of his large sockets inside the tube to bang on the socket to push it out. And bing, bang, boom, it worked. It really does take a village y’all.

Here is a pic of the old assembly. The shiny part is the cutlass bearing he was trying to remove.

Now that the hard part was complete, it was time to put it all back together…well, I should say that Jim’s hard part was over. My hard part was still to come. Jim got the metal thingy and tube that bolts and seals to the hull lined up at the exact proper angle for the cutlass bearing and propeller shaft to slide into the coupler at the transmission, holding it in place with thickened epoxy and sealing it with 5200 (a heavy-duty marine sealant like silicone is to basic household sealing jobs). Tightening the bolts on the top and bottom of that metal thingy (that Jim now tells me is called the shaft log), take two people. One person on the outside tightening the nuts, and another on the inside twisted up like a pretzel on top of the engine trying to hold the bolthead steady—guess who always get the twisted up like a pretzel in small spaces job? Here is the view I had while Jim explained my job and how important it was not to let the bolt move while he was tightening the nuts from a comfortable, standing-on-the-ground position outside.

Easy, peasy right? Wrong. Do you see the bottom bolt? No, neither could I no matter how I contorted myself. But if I flattened out my hand I could just slip it in there enough to feel it then use my Jedi powers to guide the socket extension to the bolthead, since there was not enough room for both my hand and the socket in that space. Oh, and did I mention that the socket extension was the kind with a hinge in it just to add to the difficulty level since there was also not enough room to line up a straight extension and the socket. Oh, and did I also mention that the goopy white 5200 was just applied and takes a week to cure—not that it would matter, as the bolts had to be tightened before it cured anyway. So, I had the sticky sealant all over me and the tools…and blood, did I mention the blood? Once I had a secure hold on the bolt I guess I scraped the top of my hand which was braced against the rough fiberglass while fighting against the torque of Jim tightening the nuts trying not to let the bolt move. (Nasty stuff, fiberglass in the back of the engine compartment on old boats. In spite of cleaning, applying iodine, and bandaging, it still ended up swollen and slightly infected.) And finally, did I mention that the nuts were not completely tightened, on purpose, so they could be tightened down the following day? I’m not sure why, but I’m sure there must be a good reason to put me through the entire process a second time.

And done…

It was all worth it because it got us on the water at our scheduled date in time for a floating Christmas!

Just a few more random odds and ends before wrapping up yet another wordy blog. I remembered to take a picture this year for people who have asked how we live on the boat when it is not in the water. Up and down, up and down the ladder…a lot!

I like to have shoes or my $2 flip flops on while climbing the ladder, while Jim boldly climbs barefoot, usually leaving his shoes at the bottom of the ladder. But not this year thanks to a stray yard-puppy named Poco with a penchant for stealing shoes for chew toys. He hung around our boat quite a bit and kept all of his pile of stolen “treasures” nearby. He loved playing with Lily. Lily is 13 and smaller than Poco, but he was so gentle and submissive with her. He really could be a great dog if someone would take responsibility for him.

Lily was glad to have play time with Poco to break up the otherwise boring days for her in the boatyard.

Now another topic that often have sailors choosing a side—mast steps. We definitely are glad to have mast steps, so I guess you could say we fall firmly to the side of having them. We try not to get so rooted in any given opinion that we don’t understand the arguments of those that choose not to have them because of the way they look or because at just the right (or wrong), wind angle and speed they may make some additional noise, but bottom-line, for us, the convenience outweighs it all. If there is a problem, Jim can free-climb all the way to the top of the mast. And under normal circumstances he is able to climb while I keep the halyard he is tied onto tight without having to hoist up all his weight myself, which I’m not even sure I could. If he has work to do on the mast I can tie him off in his uncomfortable bosun’s chair, yet he is able to stand on the steps occasionally to relieve discomfort. This year we can add another item in the pro column for having mast steps: it is cheaper than hiring a crane when you have a problem with the main halyard (the one that goes all the way to the top of the mast and would typically use to be hoisted to the top of the mast). Three different boats needed to hire a crane while we were in the yard this season. And it didn’t make easy work of it as the crane available here wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the top—don’t worry, everyone got done what they needed, but it wasn’t cheap or easy.

And the final random point of interest I found while in town provisioning. Maybe you have seen one already, but this is one of the coolest machines I’ve seen. It was at the Sam’s Club. Sadly, I didn’t buy any doughnuts, but I took the video.

Thanks for reading, and until next time…fair winds!