Stories From Sea

After 3 weeks on land, Scooter was finally dropped back where she belongs.

We couldn’t trust the boatyard about when we’d be back in, but now we’re at anchor and can conclude the saga of life on the hard.

We were so sick of being on land. It’s expensive, the walk to the bathroom is long, it constantly smells of either sea-undergrowth coming off our neighbor’s dinghy or diesel fumes. The worst part is they initially quoted us 5 days and $1900. 19 days and $3400 later, we’re done.

Let’s focus on the best of it.

We sanded our acrylic port side window. The results were fantastic.

This one was such a relief after living a year in the left-half-opaque-world.

Another one of our windows leaked all last summer. I guess the previous owner just kept squirting silicone caulk into the gaps and hoping. After some research, we found out that the best way to ensure a strong leak-free window was… TAPE. So we spent a ton of money on 3M VHB neoprene double-stick 5952 tape and went about taping our window on (there was also some sealant involved but pretty much just tape for structure).

Lots of old crap being used to seal/secure the window needed to be scraped off.

Tape now, ask structural questions later.

Sealant time! (and in the background our neighbor’s dinghy which (not pictured) is covered in 3 inches of mussels and barnacles baking in the hot summer sun).

Done! It actually felt really secure and although we haven’t experienced any 30-foot waves crashing over her, the window seems like she’ll hold water.

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The prop was in good shape, well-aligned, and sized appropriately (there were several doubters including the resident diesel mechanic), but it was in dire need of a barnacle barrier.

The batteries are in the mail but in the meantime, we’re doing everything we can to cut energy use. The cabin lights had to go LED.

Our hull was the focus of the haulout ‘week’ yet they neglected it for the first 2. When they finally did, the results were fun to see.

Mid-wash.

Post pressure wash, pre sanding. Lots of rust bubbles getting through the paint which apparently make us slow in the water and quick to deteriorate.

Post sanding, post epoxy. The keel should be smooth and protected now.

The first layer of iron sealant (I actually don’t know what the grey layer was but it apparently bonds with the iron keel best).

The first primer layer.

The second primer layer.

One coat of paint…finally.

Fin (keel).

Thanks for coming along for the slideshow of the last 3 weeks. I’m sick of this type of boat project and eager to get to the next round of wiring electrical systems, autopilot, fishing gear, sailing drills, and visitors.

It’s harder the second week

The first week on land was filled with urgency, progress, and success (as detailed in the previous post). The second was filled with less enthusiasm and more questions for the boatyard about when they’d actually start working on our hull and when we’d be back in the water.

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Since the day we moved onto the boat, Joe insisted on carrying an American flag the size of a football field (maybe not quite, we’ve never unfurled it) in the hopes that some 4th of July, the winds would be strong and we could fly ‘ol glory’ in all her glory, extending three lengths behind the boat, hovering just above the water by pure patriotism…but instead, Scooter was on land, with no inhabitants this year, and the flag remained in its dry-bag taking up most of our important storage locker.

I desperately hope I can reference this update in 363 days when Scooter is dwarfed by the flag next independence day… or when our sail rips and we have to use it as a spare head-sail to make it back to land.

Tay and I left briefly for Montana to see family. Hannah and Joe were stuck in portland with an anxious dog (fireworks have some drawbacks), and Scooter was stuck in a parking lot.

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Anyway, back to the important stuff: they have finally touched our boat (barely) and we think we’re within a week of being ‘splashed’.

Last week we made progress on our motor, waxing the hull, removing our propeller shaft, fixing our grill, step 1 of fixing our rudder, and a few other things.

This week is more cosmetic.

Boat windows are all acrylic (logically) but they scratch and oxidize badly. This is after a thorough cleaning.

sand sand sand

The big windows will be the most satisfying change, but we finished the first one after dark so the before/after pictures didn’t work out.

The ‘coote’ project was the best (our helm chair contains most of the ‘Scooter’ decal). This restoration made me so proud of Scooter. She must’ve been a looker in 1989.

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Also, we adopted a kitten…

Meet Captain Eunice. Taylor (and my aunt Anita) saved her from her un-interested barn-cat-mom. Bottle-fed her and her brothers. And after all that, we just happened to be back in Montana 8 weeks later which, I’m told, is prime adoption time.

I told Taylor in our vow’s that I’d take care of any pet she brought home. But, it felt like exploiting a loophole cause I had to help drive the dang cat home.

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If you’ve read this far, you care about the little things so this one is just for me. I found out its possible to operate a navigation system from a raspberry pi. It took me a few weeks of troubleshooting but our Chart Plotter is up! It’s basic right now but the possibilities are endless.

For someone used to this world, this isn’t impressive. But a marine navigation system could easily set back a budget $10,000 so doing it on a $40 computer is exciting. I hope there’s more to come on this topic.

Monday morning, scooter motored into a sling, and was hoisted free from her natural habitat. As she came up, the hull had a normal amount of green fuzz, the ocean moss and a few barnacles here and there, but nothing surprising. When the bottom of our bulb keel was pulled into view, there was a several-inch layer of pink…stuff. Upon closer inspection, what looked like a coral reef was mussels and barnacles, holding up plants, and other mysteries from the ocean.

When the lift had Scooter over pavement, 3 eels fell out of the forest onto the pavement. I hope they were just new roommates that morning, but I cant help but wonder if they made the previous sail from Port Orchard.

Scooter was pressure washed, and set on stands. Our new home for the next week was pretty much the same as every other week, except we couldn’t use our own bathroom, or our own sinks, and we weren’t allowed to sail anywhere.

The downside of Gig Harbor Boatyard, is they’re pretty restrictive on what projects you are allowed to do yourself. They’d prefer to get paid for all the work being done, and I suppose liability reasons. So the one thing they allow us to do: Buff the fiberglass above the water line. We set about collecting materials and knowledge, and went to buffing.

Buffing was slow. Our boat feels very large when you’re trying to scrub oxidation off of every exposed inch of fiberglass. And to make the process worse, the final result after wax was not the mirror finish we dreamed of.

Enthusiasm for a shiny yacht waned, and we turned our eye to other projects.

All winter, the diesel engine was our ‘main’ failure point. I say that in quotes because this week, we’ve had to come to terms that we may never have our engine at 100% and thats ok. It’s unlikely a 1 knot difference in power will be the thing that kills us.

Anyway, I randomly started asking every boatyard employee for buffing advice and the first guy to entertain my line of questioning eventually said “you’ll have to find someone else, I’m not a fiberglass guy, I’m the diesel guy.” Huzzah. Everyone we told our tales to this winter told us to just get a mechanic, and here was Chris. Tall, lean, seasoned and friendly. Here to help cool off our hot little knocking powerplant. He said he’d take a look and do some research. I got him our engine and transmission’s make, model, serial, favorite color etc. and we were in business.

Chris first had some questions which I proudly was able to report we had thought of last year and checked off the list of possible causes. Mixer elbow: Clear. Saltwater impeller: new. Thermostat: tested & replaced. Heat Exchanger: Cleaned & rebuilt. Radiator cap: new. He climbed aboard and started investigating, and then the fun began. before making any significant progress on Greg (our engine’s nickname) he noticed the hose to our stuffing box was very old and would need replacement.

I don’t even know what a stuffing box is, so I seriously doubt that Chris… Apparently its a little 4 inch section of hose that surrounds our propellor shaft, just inside the hull, that has seawater on the inside, and the boat on the outside and if it fails, Scooter would sink. He mentioned some other projects to tackle while we’d have the prop disconnected so the list was growing.

He had some suggestions about the engine too, but nothing out of the ordinary. some hose might be blocked, the design might be bad, we may be over-propped. Someday I’ll write a long boring post about the engine’s saga, that only this boat’s future owner will be interested in but for now, lets say we’re still chipping away at replacing every part, and are awaiting our next sea trial.

I think the haul-out experience is best told as a two part saga. If only because it’s been 7 days on land, and aside from the first day’s pressure wash and a couple inspections they havent touched our boat. No sanding, no painting, no hull inspections or running gear cleanings.

Here’s to another 7 days on land, hopefully not more.

We’ve been back on Scooter for 5 days, so there is a LOT of time for things to go wrong this summer. That being said, we had a GREAT week.

Things got started when we visited our favorite boat thrift/consignment store. Sadly we learned they are going out of business but happily, they are heavily discounting old items.

First and foremost we got the sink we had our eye on since last August. We also got a downrigger. I will elaborate on the enormity of that purchase in a sad fishing post about the lack of salmon we caught last year, but I’ll spare you for now. They were selling 3 seat cushions for $40 each, which is about $40 more than I’ve ever paid for a chair in my life, let alone a cushion (they weren’t overpriced considering they’re $109 at WestMarine). But sitting on fiberglass is very uncomfortable, and they let them go for $10 per. Scooter is now the epitome of luxury.

Two small sinks doesn’t make any sense. They did it because there is supposed to be a saltwater pump, so you could rinse, and then keep fresh, soapy water in the other… idk apparently the designer hadn’t heard of dishes larger than 6 inches or of plastic bins…anyway, our new GIGANTIC (16 inch by 12 inch) sink is amazing.

I started calling every marine related business in the area to see about buying an outboard for our dinghy. Craigslist and FB marketplace were unfruitful. The first business I called was a yacht broker, but he was listed as a Tohatsu dealer so I tried.

“Hi do you sell outboards by chance”

“NO gaddammit!”

“Ok, great, does anyone in the area”

“I dunno, call Kitsap, I just sell boats!”

*30 seconds pass * phone rings*

“Well hi, ya know, I do have two 5 horse kickers in my garage I need to get rid of, come by tomorrow”

We purchased a 2 stroke, 5 horsepower, Suzuki dinghy motor, for the low low price of $300, a full thousand cheaper than we had budgeted, although we’re one horsepower shy of our goal. Something about a 6 horse team pulling your carriage is appealing. (yes I know horses and Hp are a loose relationship and that a dinghy motor pushes, relax). The cherry on top is the dark, damp, cave of a storage unit the outboard came out of also contained … drumroll please… The 4th matching seat to the set purchased earlier! Tay asked if he would sell it to us and the owner just GAVE it to us! (Apparently he wasn’t aware they were worth at least $10).

Also the old codger who sold us the outboard lives in our marina, has owned half the boats in the place, knows EVERYONE here, can hook us up with every type of project specialist, and seems to like us. (You’re a hard guy to read Rich, if you’re reading this).

The outboard starts and runs, but definitely a few kinks to work out there, (like the stop button doesn’t work) but for the price, we’re ecstatic. Scootie (the dinghy) can get on plane at 12-14 knots which makes her about twice as fast as Scooter.

And finally the real highlight of the week:

Jeff, with whom we had one 15 second conversation (less of a conversation more shouting across the docks about how weird our boat design was) invited us over to have drinks with his friends. His friends turned out to be: most of the board of directors of a yacht club, fantastic at preparing Hors d’oeuvres, immensely knowledgable about sailing, and really friendly. Plus one of them was childhood pals with my high school econ teacher & personal hero!

So as of tonight:

We know all of the important people in this marina.

We have a wealth of information to consume. (They never stopped recommending books)

We are being initiated as members of their Yacht Club.

We have comfy chairs, a giant sink, a fast dinghy, and hope that we may actually have some things go in our favor this year.

A throwback to Summer 2019

Scooter sitting seductively in the San Juan slack tide

This summer we made 2 trips to the San Juan Islands. Both times they made us question how much we actually wanted to sail south. We could be happy catching salmon, drinking in sunsets, fighting currents, and enjoying the views.

So far I reeled in the first and the most salmons caught by Scooter’s Crew.

Taylor, with this 11 pounder takes the cake for largest.

We spent 60 days with fishing lures in the water, and we finally start catching fish. Probably the reason the San Juan Islands were so special to us.

Big Shoutout to Troy Fields. The best best-man ever.

Despite how rural some of the islands felt, we still found a way into a hipster gastro-bistro with excellent martinis and an open mic night. When a back-woods bar on an island does open-mic nights, you’d expect humble music. Not the case this evening.

Screaming Folk sounds like an oxymoron but this guy made it work.

The first artist was an older man who’s voice would give Chris Stapleton a run for his money (maybe not but a few martini’s in and who could tell). Followed by a 20 something girl who could shred on the mandolin. Third up was the highlight of the evening. A man in his 60’s who had recently taken up the flute. The skills similar to a middle school recital, but the man was so full of joy and passion. It was contagious for the entire bar, and he received a standing ovation. Last up was a young singer songwriter who combined folk, bluegrass, and heavy metal into a high energy, joy filled, singalong. I’d pick that 20-seat bar, isolated on an island, over any place in Nashville on any given night.

Taylor enjoying a Rope Swing

Another highlight of the San Juan Islands was stumbling upon the best rope swing I’ve ever seen. Made from a ship’s rope designed to wrangle hundreds of tons of tanker, and hung high on a bluff overlooking the straights of Juan de Fuca.

Retired and feeling like a kid again.

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Amid a pandemic that cant decide if it refuses to go away or is perpetually beginning the ‘second wave’ and protests and riots and autonomous zones, it feels like a valuable time to return to the sailboat.

Something I love about expeditions, however great or small, is the reduction of the mental capacity. When your next meal and the next day’s safety are the only concerns, the mind is able to block out the distant future worries of health insurance, or the little anxieties of an interaction. Even a 4 hour round of golf gives you rest from the wandering mind, but a long backpacking trip or a life on a sailboat is a little more prolonged.

Enough about the philosophy of the boat, it’s time to grind.

In the next 72 days, we need to: fix our overheating engine, mount a radar dome, outfit our dinghy to be a functional life boat, re-wire the electrical system, install solar panels, remove – sand- buff – reinstall and seal our windows, sand and paint the hull, replace our two tiny sinks, build an onboard computer, wire said computer to run our home-made chart plotter, buy a dinghy motor, and fix the boat’s steering mechanism.

All the while, we need to build a life on the boat, get back into the tiny-house movement, learn to fish, continue our sailing skill education, clean 8 months of mold off the boat, and hopefully make friends.

It’s been daunting, to be honest. Fortunately we have a haul-out scheduled, where we hoist Scooter out of the water, plop her on some jacks, and let the professionals repaint the hull. We can’t mess with the engine too much, cause we need to limp down to the haul-out facility. We also cant mess with the rudder too much, because we hope everything will be easier out of the water. So this week is about moving in, and tackling the small projects we can handle. It’ll be a nice break to get back into the swing of things.

The conclusion is, we’re so happy to be back on the boat. Scooter feels like home. It’s the only place Tay and I haven’t had roommates since we got married, plus it’s the physical embodiment of the life we chose. Although the boat life is full of projects, and failures, it is amazing. Every day is a new adventure with (mostly) low consequences.

I hope I get the chance to look back on this blog post in 2 months or 2 years and miss the way I feel now. I’m happy and overwhelmed and anxious and absolutely STOKED.

-Hank

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“All good business decisions are made in a bar” -Someone (probably)

September 17th 2019 was one of the hardest and most fun nights of my life. We had spent a week working on the finishing touches to make Scooter a blue water ready sailing vessel and had failed miserably at every turn. The Radar dome didnt work, the radar mount pole was destroying our hull, the windows leaked, the flex seal ‘fix’ stained the hull black, the motor continued to overheat, the dinghy motor was a paperweight, the biminy project was a mess, we had no spare sails, spare hardware, spare motor parts, no 4th crew member, and still hadn’t practiced some key sailing safety drills.

We sat down at a bar in Gig Harbor, and decided not to go. It was miserable having a dream coming to an end, something we had worked so hard for, and abandoned so much to make possible.

But it was liberating. The adventure was back. With the timetable gone, so was the pressure, the failures, the what-ifs. We were back to basics. The Joy returned.

I wouldn’t exactly say we drowned our sorrows cause there was too much laughter for that. Instead we celebrated what we had accomplished so far, that we were happier in this chapter of our lives than ever before. Either way, we woke up with headaches.

Now the deadlines have been removed and the real adventure can begin.

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