Cabin Lighting and Solar Power for Robin

I've been working on the electrical system for the last week.  Moving slowly in order to make sure I think through everything correctly.  Electrical work isn't hard, it is just methodical and detail oriented.  You can't swap wires or use the wrong size wire or wrong crimp and you've got to keep that straight for every run of every circuit.  Add to that tired, sore fingers and hands as every crimp itself is a process of unsheath, strip, twist, insert, crimp, pull check, and heat shrink...  seemingly hundreds of times over.  

Wading through the endless series of different size crimped ends is enough, but then you have to calculate for voltage drop over X distance with Z gauge wire (twice over, once for positive and once for negative) in order to properly size your wires.  You must know the power demands of every electrical object on your boat and the distance (by hidden wire) from the battery.  And with a project like ours, where everything has been gutted, filled and rebuilt, you also have to decide the routes all the wires are going to take in order to get where they are headed.

So we started the project with the cabin lighting.  Sarah and I had selected inexpensive SeaSense LED light fixtures throughout the cabin.  All are equipped with red or white LEDs at the flip of a three way switch, and impressively, all of them were under $30 each, the small white plastic ones were under $10, and they all pull less than 1/5 of an amp, allowing us to use Ancor Marine's most minuscule 18 gauge white sheathed duplex wiring.

My father had already installed the main battery cables and house power panel when we were here in December, so it was just a matter of breaking out the circuits from there.  We decided a bus bar should go in the closet to feed the three nearby lights in the main salon, head, and V berth.  Also, since the mast wiring also passes through the cabin ceiling "behind" (fore of) the wooden arch, we installed the mast wiring bus block on the top of the closet as well.  We ran all of it tight to the ceiling with wires in descending color: black coax antenna cable, then gray triplex for the masthead and foredeck, and white duplex wires for the spreaders and cabin light; all hidden from the main salon.  Only the lonely wind speed transmitter signal cable, which is a tiny gray cable, is taking the route through the head.

Since we were now taking power from the batteries, I thought it best to start giving back.  I finished the adjustable solar panel installation that I've had floating around in my head for the last couple years.

When installing solar panels, make sure to keep them covered until everything is wired.  You do not want to connect panels under solar load, nor leave them as an open circuit under solar load, so I just cut out some cardboard and taped it to the panel faces during installation.  It also allowed me to flip them upside down to drill the frames without worry of cracking or scratching the glass underneath.

First I drilled and screwed two cross bars of 3/4" square extruded aluminum square tube (like you would get at most hardware stores) into the back of the extruded aluminum channel frame of the solar panels.  Then I attached them to the boat using U-bolts around my aft pulpit railing and drilled through the cross bars I had screwed to the panel frame allowing the panels to fold down or out like wings.  Use nyloc nuts or lots of threadlocker throughout.

My solar panels came with nice TUV-rated waterproof outdoor connectors already installed.  I had never seen them before, but a google search revealed they are called MC4 connectors, and there are some sellers on ebay and amazon who sell sets of five do-it-yourself crimp-on MC4 connectors relatively cheap.  The resulting connection is electrically sound and fully waterproof.

Here is a snap tutorial:

Now we can easily unbolt and disconnect the solar panels if we really need to keep them safe.

Next I needed a way to keep the solar "wings" towards the sun and keep them from flapping.  Some linear core Dacron cord, cable clamps, and a couple spare mini blocks from my boxes of project spares, and we've got a solution.

Wiring is where solar gets fun!  Panels produce nearly 17 volts in sunny conditions, but batteries like to charge at 14.4 volts.  Since panels are usually making more voltage than needed, standard PWM solar controllers simply block the excess voltage with a simple voltage regulator, losing all the extra juice.  MPPT (Maximum Power Point Tracking) controllers use a microprocessor to constantly monitor and adjust the voltage output from the panels in order to maximize the amperage available for charging.  The average efficiency increase in total amp hours throughout the day of charging is about 30%, and at times, mainly in the mornings and evenings, can be over 200%!  I also wired the panels in series (nominally called a 24v system, but output is actually closer to 30+ volts), and set my controller to step the 24v charging system into the 12 battery system, allowing us to use the panels even further into the twilight hours.  The difference is especially noticeable when we are still capable of charging at over 4 amps with a panel and a half in the shade, and the last half a panel getting low angle light two hours from sunset.  Our controller has an LCD display that functions as an excellent battery monitor and allows us to watch all the charging happen.  It can also display the available charging amps using MPPT in the upper right, and the would-be available charging amps if it was a standard PWM controller in the lower left along with the increased efficiency percentage.  So much fun for them to include that feature, constantly reassuring you that you made a good decision to spend the extra money for an MPPT controller.  :-)

I've always hated those huge red "1-Both-2" battery combiner switches, and I've heard that they have been the cause of all sorts of mistakes like running an expensive set of house batteries into the dirt trying to start an engine when you didn't know it was on "2" instead of "1" or vice-versa or leaving it on "both" after shutting off the engine and forgetting you've got a bum starter battery sucking your house dry... or vice-versa.  Plus the only reason for the big ugly red switch is to combine the batteries during charging, or to switch from one battery to the other in an emergency, but it means switching it every time you start or stop the engine and every time the sun comes up or sets if you want to be vigilant about battery charging and protection.  I figured the only emergencies that required swapping power sources were using the starter battery to run the bilge pumps and using the house batteries to start the engine in a pinch.

Enter the remote, voltage-sensing battery combiner.  Essentially just a large high voltage relay with a tiny sensor that automatically combines both positive battery terminals when a charging voltage over 13.3 volts is present  The sensor draws 0.00025 amps, enough to be considered totally passive.

Installation is easier than the big red switch.  First, wire the house batteries strictly to the house, and wire the starting battery straight to the engine as if it was a car, keeping the systems separate. Install the combiner relay by connecting the house battery negative terminal to the engine block/common ground, and connecting each positive battery terminal to the two big high voltage terminals of the bottom of the relay.  Then the relay's voltage sensor gets a single tiny wire to the common ground. Done.  A small LED on the device shows you if it is combined or not.

It clicked right on today when the sun came up on the solar panels, and clicked back off when the sun went down.  Same story when we start the engine and the alternator starts churning out the charging power.  Awesome.

The relay also has two other tiny terminals on the top that will prove useful.  One is a remote control terminal that allows you to wire a single pole double throw (SPDT) on-off-on switch to toggle the remote wire between + and -, allowing "Always on/combined" (+) "Voltage sensing" ("off") and Always off/de-combined (-), allowing you to take care of those emergency situations with the flip of a small toggle switch, and leaving our power panel free of the big ugly red switch.

Moving Aboard Take 2: Good News and Bad News

We moved onto the boat Thursday!
... But while I was stepping down into the cockpit carrying things, I sprained my ankle. 3rd degree. Full separation of ligaments.  It swelled up to the size of two baseballs in less than a minute.  AJ freaked at the sight of it and rushed me to the ER.  He was afraid I had broken a bone.  But, only the ligaments are torn, and I am in a cast and on crutches for a few weeks. This is my second 3rd degree sprain in 2 years.  So now that I'm on the boat I won't be getting off the boat any time soon. I'm devastated.  In the ER the nurse gave me nausea medicine because I kept turning white.  But it was't pain that kept causing me to look like I was going to vomit.  I was getting hit with wave after wave of catastrophizing thoughts.  The reality of being in a hospital instead of kick-starting our lives on the boat was crushing.  We may not even make it out this season. I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that my bum ankle is now going to be even more of a bum ankle, and will possibly need surgery to re-anchor the ligaments.  I can't be hearing this right now.  I want to put my fingers in my ears and sing "LaLaLaLaLaLa".

Back in Arkansas AJ and I got fortune cookies one day.  I wish I'd taken a picture of them.  His said something about it being wise to reconsider plans, and mine said "Something with 4 wheels is a wise investment."  Combined I think the message was clear.  Sell the boat and buy a van.  Now those words will haunt me.  I will dream of wheels, and hear the word reverberate in a ghostly echo every time I see the hatch that sprained my ankle. wheeeels wheeeeels wheeeeels.. 

But back to the boat.  We're still not giving up regardless of what wise little cookies say, and regardless of the injuries incurred not listening to them. Most work is inside the cabin now, so I shouldn't be entirely useless.  I will still be able to screw up wire clamps and the like.  I just won't be able to go get a screwdriver from the shed. .

Before moving on we dropped the stove in the well and AJ will run propane to it soon.  He also plumbed the sink drain to a thru hull.  I can't believe he was able to get through that hole! One shoulder at a time.  He's in the locker to the the left of the stove. .

We abandoned the Reflectix insulation and vinyl project in the main cabin, but we kept it in the V-berth.  The v-berth ceiling was rough fiberglass with multiple layers of chipping gel coat and paint. We peeled the top layer of latex paint off with our fingers and sanded as best as we could underneath before gluing up the Refletix a few months ago. We started on the vinyl before we went back to AR.  This week we finished the vinyl with batons, installed the shelves and sheeted the mattresses. We have a bedroom. With a nice smooth wipe-able ceiling, that hurts a little less to bump your head on.

Now it's hard to know what to do next!  Propane to cook? Solar panels and wiring for light? Water tanks and plumbing? Templating trim pieces to finish out the cabin? Templating new shelves and counters? Making replacements for old bad shelves? Building a table? There really isn't much prioritizing any more. It all needs to happen.  We have nothing but a working toilet and power cord running from the dock for electronics and a night lamp.  I figure the needs of living aboard will dictate what happens when.  Showering was the most problematic situation we assessed before moving aboard. We planned to sponge bathe or hose off clothed with the dock hose until the water and propane are hooked up, but last night AJ rigged a temporary solution.  We have a portable propane on demand water heater/shower waiting in storage. AJ hooked it up to the propane in the cockpit, and to the water hose from the dock. After dark he took a hot shower in the cockpit with a hanging tarp. It's pretty nifty.

The starboard side of the boat is empty and waiting on cabinets and counters.   I drew a rudimentary overlay of what we plan to do to the old icebox area.

The recessed counter will allow us to step into the space and access the back corners. The two doors represent cabinets for storage of pots and pans and what else. The top opening door is where we will build in space for refrigeration. Which we will obtain eventually. There will be a lip on the top of the counter separating the left from the counter that is recessed under the companionway/cockpit. That space will hold navigation equipment. Beneath it, against the back wall behind the refrigeration foam,  a water tank bag will hang and be plumbed to the galley. Massive storage, refrigeration, and 20 gallons of water will all fit in what was nothing but a huge box of old foam. I'm glad we removed it.  This is going to be nice!

The starboard salon is also being redone.  Here is a pic of the cabin in it's original state.  The bay behind the settee was once a berth, but someone had already built in a navigation cabinet and shelf to utilize the space better. It is the main accessible storage in the cabin, and a lot of space is wasted with it being open. And everything would have to be tied down while sailing.

So we decided to build cabinets. We will keep the nav cabinet up high on the right with an open bay below, then fill the rest of the space with new cabinets. We removed the front panel a while ago, and prepped the area. Note the door at the end of the bay next to the tiles in the picture above. That door is blocked whether the storage is open or closed. So it was removed the wall all together. It will become a recessed closet in a cabinet - Something like this.

With the new starboard salon storage and the new galley cabinets, we'll have more storage than we know what to do with. After a couple years of discussing what to do with spaces over coffee, I think we have decided on plans that maximize storage and accessibility. I'm really happy with what we've come up with. There are more exciting details, like spice storage solutions but we'll get to that when we get to it. God I can't wait for spice storage solution time! Then you know you've made it. When your're organizing spices, you're home.

The port side of the cabin is now put together, minus a couple cushions that would be in the way right now.  We need to build a new table for it.  How to make the table has been another ongoing topic of debate, and we have found a happy solution, but more on that when we make it.

And that about wraps up the state of things. See ya next time.

This Weeks Happenings - Propane, Paint, Plumbing and Prop Dives

We've really gotten back into the swing of things this week and momentum is building fast. Working on the boat is actually getting pretty fun this time around.  It's the beginning of the end, and it feels great to see it come together so much more at the end of each day.  It also helps that the work from here on out is pretty clear cut.  No more breaking into things and finding new problems that create extra work.  Our goal is to be move in ready, (no more work creating dust or fumes inside the cabin) by the end of the week.  And we're really close.

The ceilings are finished.  AJ and Phil scraped off the old paint when they were here in early December.  The first thing we did when we got back was fair, sand, and paint the ceilings.  It's such a relief to have this done!

I also finished the half bulkheads.  They used to be covered in veneer.  But over the course of the last 3 years it peeled off. Instead of gluing up new veneer I painted.  The loss of the warm wood feel was a consideration, but ultimately we already had paint, and didn't have veneer. And the cabin is so heavily wood-ed already that I don't think it's too much of a loss. They will be mostly obscured by wood cabinets a table and cushions anyway.  I think the added brightness will be nice, and make fumbling around in the dark easier. I smoothed and filled the plywood grain with a thin layer of thickened epoxy, sanded, filled and smoothed with a plastic faring compound, sanded, primed, and painted.

AJ hates the blue Formica in the galley stove well, just as much as he hated the blue Formica counter in the head that he replaced with white.  If it were entirely up to him though, he would pull out all the Formica, red galley counters and all, and redo them with the same wood he'll use to build the new counter over the well where the old icebox was to starboard.  But I'm trying to hold back this wave of renovation for now.  I think renovating the galley is good project for the next big haul out after we've been sailing a while. I don't want any more surprises. I want to move onto the boat yesterday. So for now we're just going to focus on getting rid of the blue. Formica isn't suppose to take paint very well but we read up on it and decided to give it a try. We sanded it, and are hoping that Pettit EZ Poxy topsides paint, with the EZ Prime (high build primer) will hold up.  It's hard, glossy and reflective.  The bulkheads, old icebox well area, baseboards, and galley cabinets were also painted with the EZ Poxy and EZ Prime.  It's so hard and wipe-able I love it. So far so good. The white stove well does brighten up the galley!  The great blue extraction is complete. 

AJ built the propane locker.  Two propane canisters fit perfectly side by side in the back of the cockpit.  There used to be a bench that wedged in flush across the back of the cockpit between the seats behind the tiller.  AJ used the old seat top to build the propane locker/bench. 

The propane will be tied in place, and canvas will hang in front of it.  The stove is clean, de-greased and ready to be dropped into the galley and plumbed.

AJ also installed the toilet, which amounts to hours of cussing and wrestling hoses and hose clamps. And obtaining many blisters and cuts.  I do not envy having the muscle for this job.  Stretching a 1 1/2" hose onto a barbed fitting is a legitimate Promethean curse.   

The first pic is of the original head. With it's blue counter and green floor, and flush pump handle that blocked the door accessing under-the-counter plumbing.  We installed a drain in the floor before bolting down the board and toilet.  AJ was able to use the green hose from the old installation rearranged with an additional elbow, and only replace one hose on the outside fittings. We now have a fully functioning flushing head that doesn't block the below-counter door. 

When AJ sailed with his dad in December, the prop had little thrust.  The engine wouldn't rev above 2000 rpm.  The most likely culprit is barnacles, but AJ just had to know for sure, mainly he wanted to make sure that we didn't oversize the prop on the boat. So he dove into black sugar plantation farm runoff water in 64 degree weather to find out.  The problem is in fact barnacles. So we'll have to call a diver or jump in again to clean it before another day sail.  I think maybe he should invest in a cheap wet-suit.  

In other news, we got rear-ended this week.  The left tail light area on the truck is completely crushed.  We got a quote and it will cost more to fix than the truck is worth. (It's a '97 beater work truck and not really worth any work put into it). So insurance will likely call it totaled. We'll find out from the adjuster soon.  But for now we're driving a somewhat illegal vehicle that is missing a tail light. But what can you do?  It may turn out to be a blessing in disguise, since we were going to sell the truck soon-ish anyway.  We may get more from insurance than selling it.  But not having a car for this final stretch is kind of a problem...If we were living on the boat we could make due without a car reasonably well.  The boat is docked on the edge of the industrial district and near grocery stores and the like.  We could access everything by bike.  All the more reason to be move-in ready by the end of the week!  Once we are living aboard the transformation into home should happen fast.  I can't wait to be solving problems like how high to mount a shelf to best suit towel storage. We do still have the water tanks and wiring to be concerned with. So I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but as I said before I think it will come together fast when we are living aboard.  I can't wait.  We're about to get our lives back... And the weather is fantastic.  

And Then AJ Broke His Hand

It's been a rough month.  I can honestly say I've broken down and cried while working on the boat nearly every day for weeks, and AJ hasn't done much better.  Talk of selling the boat and buying a one-way ticket to the isle of Anywhere-But-Here has become a regular topic of conversation, and fuel for much fantasy.  But we continue on.  Day after day.  Heartache after heartache.  Frustration after frustration. Failure after failure.  I think we are burnt out... again.  It is somehow more difficult and emotional to be at this stage: so close to finishing, yet so wiped out and broke from two years of labor that every little problem or mistake feels insurmountable and impossible.  We are exhausted.  Exhausted from homelessness.  Exhausted from filthy work.  Exhausted from injury after injury.  Exhausted from sacrificing our personal relationship for a professional working relationship.  After being stuck for two years, it can be really hard to remember why we're doing this to ourselves.

But now, we have to take a temporary break whether we want to or not.  AJ broke his hand Tuesday. Or the boat broke AJ's hand.  However you want to look at it.  He broke off the head of the fifth metacarpal on his left hand.

We were going to move onto the boat this week.  Albeit with no water or electricity (just like before). We can work on those things while aboard.  But the toxic work of epoxy, paint, and varnish, etc.. is finally complete. And for the first time since we bought the boat, every inch of it it is clean, dry, and inhabitable. 

Shelves, drawers, and cabinet doors are ready to go back in.  We still need trim everywhere, but trim doesn't help a boat sail. So we'll get around to that someday. The floors are repaired and refinished. The raw half bulkheads in the picture below will get finished with white Formica. Originally we had intended to leave the old shabby veneer on these bulkheads with the thought that it would be fine if undisturbed for another couple years... but now it has been two years since the decision not to fix it.  Like so many other things we determined weren't important, it fell apart on it's own in the passage of time.  So much time.

The bay where the old icebox was, shiny and gleaming white:

We also installed the Mack Pack sail cover and lazy jacks.

We still need a boom vang and a depth transducer before we can safely sail... and plumbing and wiring before we can live and cook independent of shore. We don't have the money for those things right now, so even if we did move on as planned, we would just be sitting around looking for work anyway!  It's a good time to go back home to Arkansas to regroup, with or without AJ's injury.  We're headed there pronto.  I need to see a friend.  AJ needs disc golf with buddies in the cold autumn Ozark mornings.  It's going to be fall there ya'll!  I love love love the fall and crisp autumn mountain air.  If he could have waited a couple more weeks to break his hand we could have gone home for his birthday and Thanksgiving. I guess we'll just have to plan some early celebrations.

Sand Epoxy Sand Paint (Again)

The head is finished.  We haven't dropped in the new bronze Groco toilet unit, but the tiny "room" looks like part of a nearly-new boat...  or at least a well-loved boat.

The two fiberglass wall repairs from the previous post were faired with thickened epoxy to cover the weave of the the glass cloth.  The room is now a continuous fiberglass bowl from the counter height down.

The fiberglass floor is part of the original interior mold.  Through the years and owners, it had received at least three "renovations" and was a mottled mess of four layers of paint: bright green, red, tan, and seafoam, all on top of a factory-molded honeycomb "nonskid" grid that prevents water from flowing freely to the drain.  It is humid and icky enough in the tiny head without having standing water in the floor exacerbating the problem, so we sanded, chipped, and ground out the paint and honeycomb texture as best we could, and then filled and faired the floor with thickened epoxy as well.

No matter how much work you put into fairing/sanding/fairing/sanding, you will always find tiny imperfections.  Suck it up and move on.  That is why they make: Paint; the beautiful concealer.

For this application we used Petit EZ Prime and  Interlux Brightside, a one-part polyurethane, in pure white.

The anchor locker was also attended to.   AJ removed/sanded the old flaking paint as best as he could, then painted it with gray Interlux 2000E, aka "barrier coat."

We scraped the V-berth back down to gelcoat.  The paint chipped off the smooth gelcoat sides in rather large pieces with a paint scraper fairly easily (easier than sanding!), so for the past couple months whenever one of us had some spare time, we'd go and chip away at paint in the V-berth until eventually it was bare.

Pics of the repairs to the back wall of the port side of the V-berth are below.
I used thickened epoxy to fill the depth/gap left by removing a delaminated layer of plywood, and I filled many large holes in the back wall that wires ran through before. We have also been scraping paint off the ceiling for months. The ceiling is not smooth like the sides, so it wouldn't flake off in sheets. It had to be picked off slowly and painstakingly.  We stripped the ceiling the best we could because we did not want the Reflectix falling down due to weak paint adhesion.

On the starboard side a previous owner drilled holes in the base of the V-berth.  He probably wanted to allow the compartments below to "breathe." but when he realized that he just drilled holes into the tops of the only totally water-tight compartments in the boat, he decided not to continue.  The holes allows for dust and debris, and most importantly, water, to fall/drip into the contents of the drawer below, so I filled the holes with thickened epoxy...

...  And then painted it all with Petit EZ Prime and Pettit EZ Cabin Coat, also bright white.

We hope to move to start moving aboard in about a week.

... and to take it out for a daysail shortly after that!

Renovation Icebox Removal

There is always a lull every other month in blog posts.  It seems it takes about a month for any project to be seen through to completion, because there are always a few different projects going on at once. So for a month I have nothing to write about because all I have are pieces of projects. Then within a week of each other, 4 to 5 projects are completed and posts come out rapid fire.  We are in the lull, and in the next week or two the blogs will start to catch up.

Earlier in July we were working on finishing all the surfaces (the last of the toxic work) so we could move back aboard and onto wiring/plumbing systems, when my mother asked if she could fly me home to visit for few days.  While I was gone AJ's mind wandered from tedious surface treatments to the icebox.

The icebox presents the following problems. #1. It's an icebox. It needs ice to keep things semi-cool. Where are we going to get ice?  Why would we want to buy ice everyday?  It could be plumbed as a fridge ... but  #2. It's huge. The counter is chest height. I cannot reach the back cabinets due to it's depth, nor bend over and reach into it due to it's height.  #3. The "wet locker" behind this counter is an inaccessible, uncleanable plywood lined hole that doesn't drain; not much of a "wet" locker, so therefore:  #4. The wall between the counter and engine room was falling apart. #5. It's a massive amount of wasted space.  It's mostly (wet) foam, not storage.

We had talked about all of this and considered alterations, like removing the icebox and foam and putting shelves in under the counter, but it didn't seem worth the trouble right now because the "problem" of wasted space isn't a real problem in terms of getting the boat ready to sail.  So we decided to leave it be and maybe make changes in a year or two, somewhere else, if it's getting on our nerves.  But while I was away AJ came up with a use for the space that made it worth the trouble: a navigation station.

AJ messaged me about his nav station idea, I said "hell yeah," and he began demolition.

A nav station means full demolition. Demolition is always easier than salvaging. If you're trying to save something and refinish or patch it, it's a hell of a lot of work.  Destruction and building something new, is pretty quick and easy.

Before describing the plan any further we should probably take a look at what I'm talking about. Here is the starboard side galley counter icebox.  

Notice also, the hole behind the counter.  It's labeled in the floor plan drawings as a "wet locker", and while it does have hooks on the back wall, you'll end up raking all the water off of your jacket and onto the counter in order to get it back there....  and then the rest of the water just seeps into the plywood and foam insulation at the bottom. It stored chart tubes when we moved aboard, which makes more sense.

Behind the varnished plywood wall by the companionway ladder was a thick fiberglass wall.  He cut that out, dug out the foam, found another fiberglass wall and cut it out.

Behind the second fiberglass wall was the icebox.

There are 2 iceboxes. A previous owner had built another smaller icebox inside the factory way-too-big ice box.  That explains the extra inch of counter height and the non matching countertop in this area.  Below on the left is the smaller added icebox cut up and coming out. On the right is the original icebox fiberglass mold.

AJ removed the failing engine room panel, and the rest of the vent in the "wetlocker".

In the process AJ found another Cheoy Lee Luders 36 owner who had removed their icebox for all the same reasons.  http://svmolamola.blogspot.com/2010/08/ice-box-project.html
It's reassuring to know someone else out there also found it inconvenient enough to warrant removal.

Piece by piece over the course of many hours, This corner of the boat produced six stuffed-full lawn/leaf garbage bags of de-construction debris and two truck beds full of rotten plywood and fiberglass chunks.  It seemed like an impossible amount of debris.  By this time I was back from my trip home and AJ and I had to make two trips to the dump to get rid of it all.

It will transform into a nav station by adding a bench where AJ is standing. And a shelf/counter top aft over where the wetlocker was to AJ's left.  It will hold books and papers and nav stuff. A little table will extend and/or drop from the edge of the shelf. This still leaves a huge accessible well under the new shelf in the wetlocker area, And there is room for more shelves under the cabinets that are already built into the underdecks. Chart tubes can easily be stashed there.  

While the foam and glass dust was a mess, the hull itself is very clean. It will be an easy wipe-down and paint job. And a paint job is as far is it needs to be taken before moving aboard. We can build the little plywood bench box and shelves at any time, but we went ahead and got the dirty fiberglass cutting done while the boat is empty.

Yesterday we reorganized our lives and spent the day cleaning out the shed.  It had gotten so disorganized it was hard to do any project because you spent half of the day looking for the tool you needed, and debating on whether or not to go buy masking tape when you know you have some...somewhere.  It was time to figure out just what supplies and parts we had, and make them accessible again.  Mission accomplished.  I do need to buy chip brushes. We are also in a territory battle with ants and lizards (and one ornery rat).  Ants will overwhelm and eat baby lizards FYI. Blech.  Best to keep the clutter down, especially in sheds in the south.  Better yet to be afloat and not be attached to land...

It's still raining a lot. But since we're working mostly inside, it doesn't matter much. The clouds keeps the boat shaded and cool. I wish it would rain more to be honest! Because when it's not raining it's oppressively muggy, UV intense, and dead calm. And it's fun to wash the boat in the rain.  I'm hoping the 40% chance comes through for me this afternoon.

External Chain Plates: The Conversion is Complete

In the beginning our chainplates were the standard plate-through-deck affair, bolting to fins that were fiberglassed to the inside of the hull.  But the previous owner had snapped the mast in two at the spreaders while on passage to Puerto Rico when the upper shroud terminal let loose, I'm sure over-stressing at least one or more of the chainplates and their deck junctures, and causing the remaining rigging to be sub-par as you can see below:

A section of zinced chain held the now-shorter upper shroud taught enough to pull the now-rewelded-but-crooked mast into an almost straight line, though resulting in wildly uneven wire tensions.  Three different fittings on three stays, leading to three leaky slots in the deck.  We had plans for fixing and replacing what we could, and replacing the mast itself, but that obviously turned into a full re-rig from the chainplates up.  I wanted to go with external strap chainplates for simplicity, inspectasbility, and to stopp the leaking.  Bonus: the old chainplate fins get cut out of the lockers.  It started when I got a good deal on some oversized 3/8" x 2" aluminum-bronze plate over a year ago.  It has similar tensile strength to stainless, but for good faith in the bronze, I upsized from the 1 1/2" x 1/4", the rig's minimum stainless steel chainplate dimensions.  The bronze ended up not bending well and needed to be cut and welded to the necessary angles at the deck.  This made me and my engineering consultant-friend a bit nervous, but when he saw the size and quality of the finished product he agreed that it would be sufficient.  The space shuttle and the moon lander were welded after all.

We've shown you some progress in the past few months of cutting out the old fins, and more recently glassing over the area with multiple layers of biax/mat cloth and epoxy.  The new chainplates are arranged differently due to the rig.  The new mast is a double spreader rig with only one set of lower stays instead of our old single spreader rig with dual lower stays.  We have chosen to opt for the new mast's single lower shroud assembly, so the the old front and rear chainplate areas have only been smoothed into the wall, while the center plate location has been beefed up with three additional layers of biax/mat fiberglass to function as a backing plate (yes, fiberglass is an excellent backing plate when sufficiently thick) for both the upper and lower stays, side by side.

We started with the port side since it was against the dock.  When we finally got to drill through and measure the hull thickness last week, it ended up at 1 1/16" thick.  Minus our added glass, that means the solid glass hull thickness at the deck joint is about 3/4 to 7/8"!  We probably didn't even need the added glass, but it is nice to know it is there.  Then we finally got to finish the cabinet and bolt our plates through.  Final touches will be cedar shelves and wrapping that ugly hose in some white duct tape.

A finished cabinet on the boat!  Pay no attention to the underdeck immediately in front of the cabinet, we have decided to just sand it out and cover our underdecks and cabin roof in insulation and vinyl headliner.  This really gets me excited.  Last time we were living aboard, we noticed the heat radiating from our cabin roof and decks at the end of every day, and Lee Macgregor our salty sailor from Tales of a Salty Sailor, commented on how hot our cabin was, almost insisting that we put up insulation.  Here-say tales from other sailors in the area claim about 5 degrees cooler cabins on sunny days after insulating.  I see this as a refining touch for life aboard, plus it means less sanding and painting.

We re-launched Sparrow, our already-aging homebuilt dinghy, to assist with the installation of the starboard side and transom chainplates.  The straightness of drilled holes and the amount of things-not-dropped-overboard greatly improve when you have your work surface right in front and facing you instead of below and backwards.

We call this area the "saftey locker" since it contained all the flares, harnesses, EPRIB, and a spare fire extinguisher when we bought the boat.  Honestly, I'm not sure if it is the best location for those things in the future unless we can keep the door's swing area clear.  At any rate, in addition to the extra glass, this side also got a new waterfill and Sarah's loving touch with epoxy filler.  We thought this compartment would inevitably turn out a disaster, but she couldn't leave it alone, and it ended up a masterpiece...  a masterpiece of an inaccessible closet...

The aft chainplates were a bit more complex than the sides.  First, the angle of the transom meant that the bend in the plates absolutely had to be flush on the deck for good structural sense.  This is true of any chainplate, but there is quite a bit of forgiveness when a plate is only bent to 5 degrees, these ended up at 60 degrees, so anything below the plate's bend will be in bending force if it isn't properly supported with a good fulcrum at the bend.

The transom is about 7/16" thick and comes up past the deck in a flange, then the rear section of toe rail is notched to accept that flange.  I had to cut both the toerail and the flange in order to get the bend where it needed to be.  You can see the transom flange and toerail cross-section in the first picture below where I cut the big sections out for the chainplate.  It is an odd arrangement that results in the toerail appearing 3" high from the side, and about 1 1/2" tall from the back.  It also increases the apparent size of the transom.  The chainplates ended up looking a little lower on the transom than I would have liked, but structural integrity beat aesthetic every time.

The second issue with the heavily sloping transom was the top bolt hole of the chainplate was so close to the bend that it basically went right into the deck.  There was no way to get a nut on the back.  Well, I had just recently learned that fiberglass taps and holds bolts nearly as well as steel, so I solved this problem by underdrilling the top hole and tapping the fiberglass transom.

We also added the requisite three layers of biax/mat inside the lazarette for backing pads on the lower two bolts.

And it didn't end up looking too bad.  We plan to add wooden bridge covers over the top of the big notches we had to cut. That way the wood line across the back won't be broken. It will end up kind of looking like an intentional drain slot that also functions as chainplate clearance...  not too aesthetically pleasing, but at least it will look intentional.  The curve of the transom and the crown of the deck make the plate tangs slant slightly inward on the transom.   It makes a nice frame for the name.

The old teak bow plank (bow block?  big wooden termination block for the toerails?) was 3 inches tall and angled outward. The new bow plank is vertical like the new toerails and only 1 1/2 inches tall.  The old stem fitting is no longer even close to the new shape of the nose of the boat, nevermind it was also cracked and failing.  So we had a new one locally made in stainless steel.  Since we didn't want to redrill new holes in the nose of the boat, we had the plate made up to fit.  Between the errors of a cardboard template matching a boat's nose and a hydraulic bending machine making stainless plate match a cardboard template, the stem fitting ended up needing a slight shim to fit just right.  I whipped one up out of some spare teak and glued it in place using a big ignot of lead that I also happen to have sitting around.  Also, the nose of the boat was looking relatively thin at "only" 5/8" thick, so we beefed it up with five layers of biax cloth. Getting into that anchor locker is no fun. You have to be really careful not to cut your head open on all those ceiling screws, which incidentally represent the number of times somebody has had to crawl in there with a wrench, usually me.  With the stem fitting bolted on we could reattach the original pulpit.  The absence of the pulpit was the only the only thing keeping us from putting on lifelines.

Now the only thing keeping us from running lifelines is the time it takes to splice the dyneema ropes  onto thimbles.  I stumbled across a half-off deal on gray dyneema on ebay! I was already thinking about doing them in dyneema because it's cheaper than wire to begin with.  Plus, you splice the rope onto cheap thimbles yourself. Wire lifelines require expensive swaged fittings, paid labor to do the swages, and turnbuckles.  We're watching brummel splice videos on youtube and looking for our splicing fids...

... or something like that.