Winterize

Kintala will stay in the water this winter. We couldn't pull her if we wanted. Not only is the only travel lift big enough to lift her at another marina on the other side of the lake, with the V-drive disaster still unfolding we couldn't get her off the dock on a bet. That being the case we need to try and not do any more damage to her due to freezing temps.

Nomad was easy to winterize; pump some pink stuff through the engine, drain the water and holding tanks, add a little more pink stuff, a splash in the bilge...ready for the cold.

Kintala's engine can't be started. Part of the cooling loop runs through the V-drive, those lines loose, open, and lying in the engine bilge. I think most of the water drained out when I pulled the drive but this last weekend I took the wet-vac to them. Now I'm pretty sure all the water is out of the cooling loop. I did the wet-vac trick on the A/C as well. The manual suggest one "blow the lines out, with compressed air if possible." There are times when sucking and blowing end up with pretty much the same result; I'm hoping this is one of them.

I sucked all the water out of Kintala's bilge last weekend. With the a/c out of service and not needing any ice in the 'fridge (the only two things that empty into the bilge) it seemed reasonable that it would stay pretty dry. Not. It pored down a cold rain for much of last week and this weekend. Apparently water running down the mast, inside and out, is the bane of a dry bilge with any keel stepped mast; I sucked another 10 gallons or so out of it this past weekend. I'll empty it out every chance I get, but a little pick stuff will be added every time we leave the boat for the city. We dump a little down the galley drain when we leave as well.

Nomad had one, 50 gallon, water tank. Kintala has 3; 79, 4, and 20. It takes a little more pink stuff and one must turn a valve or three, but it isn't much of a deal. There is also a deck wash that needs to be drained.

I think that is it. If not we'll know before spring.

Catching up

I don't post here very often, most of the stuff ends up on The Retirement Project. But Kintala has turned into a maintenance boat, so this would be a good place for the more wrench-orientated ramblings.

Kintala is tied at the dock without a V-drive. It suffered a catastrophic failure and took the transmission with it. Fixing that is going to required a new V-drive, new tranny, new coupling (yet to be defined) new damper plate, 6 new engine mounts (4 under the engine, 2 under the V-drive mounts) and a TON of work.

All 4 main hatches came out of the boat to be powder coated. Epic fail. The cast aluminum parts out-gassed while in the oven, ruining the finish. As a result they will need to be stripped down (again) and painted rather than powder coated. A $500 mistake. I loves me some powder coating, but find a very reputable shop to do cast aluminum parts. We do have new Plexiglas to install in the frames when they come back. After 30 years the old glass was crazed and I was concerned that it was getting pretty brittle. We putting smoked glass back in and I am expecting all of the hassle with the hatches to be worth it...eventually.

Bedding the new hatches in place was something that was probably going to be needed anyway. Kintala leaks like a screen door. Not only were all of the hatches leaking, there is a leak around the companionway (that I haven't found yet), evidence of a leak under one of the handrails (that I haven't found yet), and at least 2 of the 12 portholes are leaking as well. I learned on Nomad that one should only re-bed an item that is already leaking, so that is the approach I am taking on Kintala. If it doesn't leak, don't fix it.

Kintala is a 30 year old boat; all of the running rigging has been or will be replaced before we take to big water.  The stuff that was on the boat was down right dangerous in spite of what both the surveyor and rigging inspector suggested.

Surveyors, rigging inspectors, and mechanical inspections are, in my humble opinion, a complete waste of money.  Insurance companies usually require a survey, so get a cheap one to keep them happy than inspect, poke, prod and examine everything yourself. Open every panel, look in every hole, take lots of high quality pictures to show experts and ask questions. Don't take any one's word on the shape of the boat...their lives will not depend on it and all they want is their money. If you don't think you know enough about mechanical things to find the bad stuff, at the very least follow the surveyor's every move, question everything that doesn't look perfect to you that he says is okay, and find a boat-knowledgeable friend to take along. Also, if it has been more than 10 years since the engine mounts have been changed, figure that the will have to be replaced sooner rather than later.  Get a sample of fluid from every mechanical thing on board; engine, tranny, v-drive, anything that has oil in it, send them to the lab and have them tested. Don't care about the cost, don't care about the time it takes, just do it. If any of the big items come back questionable, WALK AWAY or plan on spending thousands and thousands of dollars to get it fixed. Better yet WALK AWAY.

Logistics and costs made it nearly impossible to do a sea trial on Kintala. I'm not sure what I could have done to fix that, but I would never, ever, consider buying a boat again without a extensive test sail - in the ugliest weather I could talk the buyer into. Take the surveyor along if you can. He will probably prove useless but you might have the fun of watching him puke. Having said that, none of the truly massive problems that turned up on Kintala would have shown up on a sea trial.

Flip every switch, turn on every light, run every pump, run water out of every sink, find out if the water heater works, light the stove, spin the wenches, pull on the halyards, spin the helm, test the autohelm, use the head. If it doesn't work have it fixed before you take delivery of the boat or get an enormous amount of money taken off the asking price. If you don't know how much to take off, get an estimate for fixing each item, double it, total it up, add 10%...there you go. If the buyer flinches WALK AWAY. There will be a better boat along in a week or so.

Anything that stinks, find out why.

Go into any boat purchase with the attitude that you are looking for a good reason to WALK AWAY. If one doesn't present itself then, and only then, allow yourself to be persuaded into buying the boat...maybe. If the broker strikes you as anything less than an upright, professional individual completely dedicated to getting you a good boat at a fair price RUN AWAY, don't walk.

From choosing to chosen

This blog was started to be the place where we discussed much more technical matters regarding our search for the perfect retirement boat and preparing it for cruising, things that would only interest others serious about the same goal. We haven't posted here for quite a while and when I came here tonight it was kind of funny to see how our original ideas compared to our final decision. Choosing the perfect cruising boat is definitely a process not an event. Some things you thought were important end up not being important at all, but in general, the Tartan ended up being pretty close to what we set out to buy.

Mono-hull after all?

After two open water trips on monohulls, we had pretty much decided a catamaran was the boat in our live-aboard future. Then we went to the Chicago boat show...all monohulls. And somehow, before the weekend was out, we were talking to a broker (Talking to a Broker!) about a 1982 Tartan 42 he had sitting in his yard. How did that happen?

Deb claims it is my fault, that the gleam in my eye made it clear I wanted a monohull, and I wanted one now. (Somehow she forgets that we already have a monohull that I like very much!) I think a lot of different currents are converging. (And it was Deb who jumped on the Internet Saturday night after seeing a new Tartan 4400, and found the Tartan 42 for sale.)

One is that Deb and I are both, kind of suddenly, thinking we are pretty close to pulling the trigger on this thing. We are blaming John K. and the week aboard Quetzal for that sudden shift. Deb really liked that boat and didn't get sick even with two bumpy Gulf Stream crossing. Even though I did feed the fish for a few hours, I was pretty happy with the boat as well. More importantly we came away from that trip feeling like we can do this, and that out on the ocean is where we want to be. The boat is not as important as the being.

Another is a Daughter and Family moving back to St. Louis and buying a house big enough for Deb and I to share with them. Perfect as an in-between home ownership and boat. In addition we can have the Tartan shipped to Carlyle. With a draft of 4'11" she doesn't draw as much as some, we can even still cove out at Coles Creek. We can learn the boat, live on it like we do Nomad, and finish any work we think required. I'm pretty comfortable with the idea of doing all that while staying in "home water." (Even though I think the lake is going to feel very, very small from the deck of a 42' boat, and I expect some pretty strange looks from people who don't know what we are doing.) We can also draw on the experience of the many friends we have made at the marina and enjoy a little more time in their company.

As always there is the matter of money. The Tartan lists for about twice what I paid for the Z-car. The least expensive Catamaran we have seen, that we think will do the job, was listed at nearly twice that of the monohull. That is nearly 3 years of cruising money. If can buy this boat with a second mortgage, when we sell the house the boat is paid for. With the boat in Carlyle, we can stay at our jobs as long as we want and/or need while getting the boat ready to go and stuffing the kitty.

I do have to admit that the Tartan was always one of the monohulls high on our list of possible boats. It is moderate to heavy in the displacement department, stable, with a modified fin keel that doesn't look like a fin, and skeg hung rudder. An older boat, it doesn't have the beam carried aft like modern boats - but I kind of like that. The cockpit isn't big - but I kind of like that as well. The companionway is different being just a hatch at the top of the ladder. Certainly nothing like modern boats, and nothing at all like the sliding glass door on a Cat. But on a bad day with big waves? My bet is I will not be missing the sliding glass door. This one is cutter rigged with a roller furling, several choices for head sails, a staysail, but no main. (A new sail being one of the things to take care of.) Truth to tell I really like the way the boat looks...at least in the pictures. Actually getting on the boat is next, and that should happen this weekend.

Should all this actualy come together we will finish up the year with The Boat at the lake and paid for, the house sold and the first, (and major) down size completed. At that point the "last things to do" list is reduced to 3 items; 1) Pick date, 2) Ship boat to the Ten-Tom and, 3) Head south.

How about them apples?

More open water lessons

A 47' monohull, in this case a Kaufman 47, really is more sea-kindly than a 35' Pearson. (And now I know what "sea-kindly means.) Two crossings of a lumpy Gulf Stream were a good lesson in LWL and displacement. But a monohull is still a monohull, it still rolls and yaws and tosses coffee cups around. I read often of those who insist that wisdom lies in buying the smallest boat you think you can stand, not the biggest boat you think you can afford. For me wisdom will lie in buying the smallest boat I think I can stand, as long as it is as close to 50 foot as I can manage to pay for. If circumstances have us leaving in a smaller boat, (it is better short than on shore) I will be very, very conservative about the kind of weather I'll tackle. And I will expect a lot of sleepless nights spent rolling at anchor.

Finding the way into anchorages and ports will take a little practice. Even when closing in on Port Everglades with lots of boats to follow, I would have been hard pressed to locate the entrance without a GPS. Sailing into Hauffman Cay in the Berry Islands, I could see no indication there was an entrance of any kind until we had nearly reached the inlet. By then there were some pretty "interesting" rocks lurking nearby. I'm sure it will get easier with practice, but the first few times I expect to feel a bit exposed. Day time for sure, good or at least passable weather, and have enough stores on board to heave-to several miles away and wait, a couple of days if necessary, for conditions to be acceptable. Entering a harbor really does look like it can be the most hazardous part of the journey.

I expected to be pretty immune to seasickness. A life long pilot and one time acro instructor, my inner ear has had lots of unusual motion training. I have never had a problem on Nomad. No matter. On both open water trips I spent at least a couple of hours blowing chunks. From now on...no drinking and use the patch. I don't know if that will eliminate my "rail time," but it can't hurt.

There is a lot to learn about the rigging and sail controls of any boat. Quetzal had a whisker pole that made a huge difference when sailing downwind, but setting it was a bit complex and it was heavy enough to do some damage if one didn't pay attention. Practice...practice.

Open water lessons

Though a lot of people are doing it, a 35' or shorter mono hull would not be my choice for a live aboard, open water boat. The motion in anything much more than almost calm seas is just too relentless. When the boat sets up a roll in following seas the only comfortable place to be is at the helm, but the workload is so high that about an hour at a time is all one can reasonably expect to endure. If it can't be a Cat I hope to have more than 40' of LWL under me, and now I am really curious as to what we will learn on the November sail in the 47' mono hull across the Gulf Stream.

Forward heads are as useless in a pitching boat as experienced sailors always suggested.

The inside of the boat must be dry. Leaks are not to be tolerated, the boat needs a dodger, and keep the companionway pulled closed in any sea that may toss water that far.

An autopilot / wind vane is absolutely necessary for a short handed crew. If it breaks consider it an emergency and get to the nearest port as soon as possible for repairs. Constant helming will exhaust a short-handed crew to the point of making possibly fatal mistakes.

Anyone who takes to open water without a GPS and multiple back-ups, thinking that "traditional" navigation will be enough, is out of their freaking mind. If possible have two GPS systems independent all the way back to a split power source, then have a couple of hand-helds with spare batterers. Paper charts are good for pre-departure planning, getting an overall idea of what is around, and a place to plot lat / long points that were read off the the GPS. Make sure there is an operations manual available as well.

More GPS, if there is one system to know on the boat backwards, forwards, every nook and cranny, it is the GPS. Display control, mapping, route planning, waypoint entry and eddit, scale, every bit, every button, every keystroke; know it cold. When the chips are down and good navigation decisions need to be made NOW - that is no time to fumble.

Never take to open water without several thermos bottles on board. Anything hot to drink or eat during a wet / chilly watch is manna from heaven.

Make the sails as easy to handle as possible. Stopping the boat, heaving too, or just slowing it down for a while to catch a meal, a nap, or so the crew can use the head, can turn a difficult, unrelenting bash into an acceptable, slightly adventurous, passage. But if it takes a half hour of hard work to reef the sail or set the jib, the tendancy is to not do it and keep going, and that is usually a bad choice.

You can't spend too much money on good foul weather gear. On a 6 day passage around Long Island, in the summer, we were in our gear more often than not. If there is a hell it is not hot, it is wet and cold.

Have pity on anyone suffering from sea-sickness, do whatever you can to help them get over it. Your turn will come.

Custom work

We made a new Bimini Cover for Nomad, then added a boom tent / sunshade. Both were "home made," though the Bimini cover came as a kit. Funny how "custom" implies one thing, "home made" just the opposite. And yet, if one is careful and has (or acquires as needed) a necessary level of skill, "home made" can exceed both factory and outsourced "custom" work.

The other interior work we have done on Nomad could also be considered "custom." It to was "home made" as well. And it came out looking at least as good as the factory work in the boat. It seems to me that, unless one has the resources to buy a very high end boat to begin with, the factory work of most boats is pretty pedestrian. Not shoddy exactly, (don't look too deep behind covers, doors, or into bilges) but not what I used to think of when I heard the word "yacht."

Nomad, in fact, is a much better boat now than it was we we first found her up on the hard and covered in blue shrink wrap. Not only are her systems working better, water, engine cooling, and electrical - but she is simply cleaner, dryer and better looking to live in. It has taken, and continues to take, considerable effort. Not only in pure labor but in learning the skills (like sewing and splicing for me) or the mechanics (diesel maintenance was new). But in the end the boat is better than factory, more capable, more comfortable, and to some extent, uniquely "ours."

It is one of the things I like about owning a boat.