Another Survey

Up until we took the plunge into the world of boats I always thought a survey involved two folks. One walked around with a big stick. The other took sightings on the stick with a fancy looking boxy thing mounted on a trip-pod. If it was along a road there was usually a sign that warned of the "Survey team ahead." A boat survey was a bit of a mystery.

I know a little more about boat surveys than I did. We have been through a few. There was the original disaster survey done when we bought Kintala. There was another disaster survey when we sold her. Between those two were a few more that had to do with insurance. As I recall only one of them went off without a hitch of some kind. And then there was the recent one on First Light. (I still think of it as a pre-buy inspection. Aviation talk.) Instead of two people walking around with a stick and a box, there were 8 people poking around the boat. Two person hull team, two person engine team, two brokers representing the seller, and the two of us actually buying the boat.

As most who follow our story know, I'm not exactly a novice when it comes to things mechanical: a life-long aircraft mechanic, Chief inspector, shop foreman, Director of Maintenance, plus nearly two full years spent working in a boat yard trying to keep our cruising life afloat. I know which end of a screwdriver goes in the hand. I was pretty open about my background when interviewing people for this survey. It only seemed fair to warn them.

All gathered at the beginning of the appointed day for First Light's inspection. My opening statement was clear.  I was writing the checks. I was looking for a reason to walk away. All except the seller's brokers were working for me. I asked the questions. I got the answers. If I didn't like the answer, we were going to talk about it some more.

They got to work, poking and prodding, making notes, taking pictures. Believe it or not I managed to stay out of the way...for the most part. The engine team took fluid samples of everything, engines, transmission, and generators. They did leak down checks, pushed on this and pulled on that. Later, during the sea trial, they pushed the engines hard and we discovered an overheat problem on the port engine at full song. Nothing major but we got a bit off the asking price to get the heat exchangers overhauled and the water pumps serviced.

At full song, First Light made something like twelve knots while towing a huge wake. Nose bleed territory for a sailboat driver. Just off idle she did six. Six knots all day long regardless of the wind? Inside if necessary, warm and dry? I'm still getting used to the idea. Talking with the engine guy as he went about his work made it clear he was an expert. We dove pretty deep into the trawler engine world and I got answers that made sense. I was a happy man. Later all of the oil samples came back clean. Never, ever (ever!) buy a boat without having those samples done. I was a bit less happy with the hull guy, mostly for a reason that is not his really his fault. It is a marine industry thing. There are a lot of composite structures in an aviation world. 

Fiberglass and carbon fiber mostly. I have extensive experience inspecting and repairing both. The simple, first-pass inspection of composite structures is a "tap test". Go along the structure with a very small hammer or even a coin, tapping as you go and listening carefully. The first sign of composite damage is when the layers start to separate. Layers...that's why it is call composite in the first place. There are layers stuck together to form a solid piece. A light tap on good composite makes a bright little "tink" sound, the layers are all stuck together and sound. A dull little "thunk" sound means one needs to look a little deeper. The layers are coming apart. It could be that the core is going soft. It could be that the structure has taken an impact load the wrong way and delaminated. What you do not do is pound on the structure with a big rubber or plastic mallet like you are trying to drive 10 penny nails. That is a good way to cause the damage you are trying to uncover.

Yet that is exactly the way boat surveys go about their "inspection". My guy was beating on First Light so hard that the engine guy (apparently having been through this before) put on a set of ear protectors. The hull guy hammered the hull, deck, and flybridge like he was trying to knock pieces off the boat. I held my tongue because this wasn't the first time I've seen a boat assaulted in such a manor. Of course later he pulled out a cheap looking little plastic box, swept it over the decks he had been pounding on, pointed at the little needle waiving around, and said "wet deck here, wet deck there." I had already walked all over those "wet decks" looking for soft spots. The deck was / is as solid, more so in fact, then the floor in our two room apartment over the garage. I have walked the deck of many a far-flung cruising boat whose decks were not near as stiff. Nor have I have ever heard of a "soft deck" sinking a boat.

But I didn't argue. Not because I thought he might be right, but because I knew he thought he knew. Later we had a bit of a chat about his "findings." He did allow as the decks were in pretty good shape for an older boat and likely wouldn't need any "attention" for years. I didn't suggest it would have been a few years more if he hadn't taken a plastic mallet and spent the better part of the morning beating on the boat as hard as he could. 

Truth to tell, the next time a hull surveyor starts beating on my boat with a hammer, I think I'll borrow it for a minute to go beat on his car. See what he thinks of that.

That being said, the hull guy did find stuff that really does need attention. A lot of it electrical. I'm not sure how this happens in the boat world. In the aviation world, everything is important, but wiring is kind of special important. Heat shrink, chafe guard, tie wraps, clamps, terminal covers, routing, grounding, circuit protection...all done to perfection, every time, all the time. In the boat world? Positive posts on batteries left "open." Switches with no markings as to what they are supposed to switch. Wires zip tied to fuel lines. Other wires hanging without a zip tie in sight. Breakers the wrong size for the circuit. Electrical tape strung like party favors. AC and DC wiring all jumbled together in the same panel. Who does this kind of work? (Don't tell me, I don't want to know.) I'll be spending many hours getting First Light's electrical system squared away to the point where I'll sleep at night. (Boats seem to catch fire a lot. I'm pretty sure I can guess as to why.)

No boat is perfect. Not even new ones. We have done what we can to prove to ourselves that First Light is  fundamentally sound. But there will be surprises and unexpected costs. One of the reasons I will be sticking with the job for a while. Ideally the boat would be close enough to reach for weekend work, but that isn't how it panned out. We will be diving into the murky world of contract work while chewing up every vacation day I have to make trips east. The first of those will happen in a week or so. We will start to get to know our new old boat; see how much trouble we are in. 

A Bit About Trawlers

When we first started looking at trawlers, we were unable to find much information on them out there to help us understand the different types. Most of the good information we got was from the trawler school we took in Biscayne Bay. Captain Bob of trawlerschoolcharters.com helped us out with a very detailed description of each type of trawler to help us make up our minds. Long afterward, I ran into this article on Passagemaker magazine that did a very good job of defining a trawler and explaining the difference between trawlers and motor yachts: How Do We Define A Trawler? 

So, for the uninitiated, here we go...

The Trunk Trawler

The basic, recreational, traditional trawler that everyone thinks of when you say the word "trawler" is a trunk trawler in the style of the Grand Banks. when viewed from the side, it has the "wedding cake" profile of layers decreasing in size. The house structure of the boat is moved farther forward so the foredeck is a bit smaller. You are able to walk all the way around the deck at the water level. In the interior, there is usually a V-berth and head in the bow, then a few steps up to the salon, galley, and lower helm station. A few steps down to the aft cabin which contains either one queen or two twin berths. 

Advantages: Great access to the deck for docking and loading provisions. Nice aft cabin. No ladders to the flybridge. Cabins on opposite ends of the boat which is great for guests. usually two heads, again great for guests.

Disadvantages: No shaded areas on deck except for the flybridge which is often very small. With my fair skin, this is a huge issue. I know you can rig temporary shade structures on the aft deck, but I haven't ever seen one I really liked.  It can also be hard to find one of these with the queen berth in the aft cabin, so if you're looking for a walk-around bed this may not be a good model for you. They also often have teak decks which are maintenance nightmares.

For more details, you can read Captain Bob's article on the trunk trawler here: Trunk Trawler

The Sundeck Trawler

One of the most common recreational trawlers out there is the sundeck model. The sundeck design moves the house structure back just a bit, which allows for a larger foredeck. Access to the salon is through a side entry, sometimes there is entry on both port and starboard.  There are adequate side decks on most of them, with a few steps up onto the sundeck at the stern. The sundeck may be open or it may be fully enclosed. There are then a few steps up to the flybridge. The interior volume is large. The aft cabin under the sundeck is usually a full-width cabin with either a walk-around queen or king berth, lots of storage, and a head. Up a few steps is the salon and lower helm. The galley on some is up in the salon, but on some of them it is a few steps down toward the bow, with a small dinette opposite it. Then there is a V-berth and head forward. Here is a link to the one near us that we made an offer on that was refused. It's still for sale, but he's asking way too much for it.  It was a nice boat, though. Golden Star 38

Advantages: Extremely spacious. Cabins are on opposite ends of the boat which is great for guests. Almost always two heads, again great for guests. A choice between galley up and galley down. The sundeck provides a well-shaded area to sit and often has a bar and small fridge.

Disadvantages: Very hard to access the stern for docking maneuvers, especially if the sundeck is enclosed. Steep ladder to get from the dinghy to the sundeck via the swim platform. Usually higher freeboard, making it harder to access the boat at the dock without portable steps.

Here's Captain Bob's article on the sundeck model: Sundeck Model

Pilot House Trawler

We loves us some pilot house trawlers, but unfortunately most of them fall way outside of our budget. A good example of one would be the Kady Krogen 39. We toured one a few years ago and there's something to be said for the ship-like quality of a pilot house boat. The KK39 had the Portuguese bridge forward of the house structure, something that would offer some safety while on deck underway. Pilot house models vary greatly in the interiors, a lot depending on whether it is a raised pilot house or a flush deck. Whatever the interior, these are serious cruising boats with oodles of comfort.

You can drool over Kady Krogen's wonderful collection of yachts here.

Or, you can drool over the Helmsman pilothouse yachts and passage makers here.

Advantages: A dedicated helm station that resembles those on ships. They are usually equipped with a settee and table, a massive amount of instrumentation, heat, air, rear-facing cameras...what's not to like?

Disadvantages: Cost. Sometimes visibility from the pilot house is not terrific to the rear, thus the need for rear-facing cameras. The hull design on some of them, the Kady Krogen in particular, is rounded and prone to rolling if there's no active stabilizers. Did I mention cost?

Here's Captain Bob's article on the Pilot House Trawlers

The Passagemaker

The passagemaker trawlers are just beefed up versions of the pilot house trawlers. In this class are the expedition trawlers, and the serious ocean-crossing trawlers. This would be a lottery boat for us...

Advantages: Copious amounts of room. Very sea-kindly with active stabilizers. What's not to like?

Disadvantages: Cost, both to purchase and to operate on a yearly basis. 

Here's Captain Bob's article on Passagemaker Trawlers

And lastly, the boat which we ended up on, The Sedan Model

The sedan models are really common amongst the aging cruisers, a group we find ourselves firmly entrenched in this time around. One of the most common sedans for the budget cruiser is the Marine Trader Sedan pictured here in the Europa version. The foredeck can be larger with the house structure moved a little further aft. There are walk-around decks the whole way around the boat, and a cockpit area at the stern with a walk-thru to the swim platform on the same level. In one version of the sedan model, the Europa, the side decks are covered. The salon, galley, and lower helm station are all on one level with the aft deck, accessed through sliding glass doors. There are only a few stairs in the interior, used to go forward to the V-berth, pullman or bunk cabin, and single head. If you get into the larger models (48' or so and larger) you usually have two heads. Access to the deck is on one side or the other and the rear.

Advantages: Fewer steps to deal with as the joints age. Very good access for docking from both the stern and the bow. Very good access from the dinghy to the swim platform. 

Disadvantages: The flybridge is accessed via a ladder and a hatch. This is the main disadvantage on this style of boat.

Here's Captain Bob's article on the Sedan Model Trawler

The Takeway

So why did we choose this boat? First, let it be said that, early on, we made an offer on the Golden Star 38 sundeck model, and if it had been accepted we would have happily lived on that boat. There were many advantages to ending up on that boat: It was only a half hour from our house, it had 2 heads, it was shorter so less costly at a dock, it had huge volumes of storage. The big disadvantages were the fact that he was asking too much money for it and insurance wouldn't insure it for what he was asking, it had no air conditioning, it had no autopilot, and it had Volvo engines. While Volvo engines are known to be reliable, the parts for them are very hard to come by and are very expensive. But one of the things we asked ourselves while we were in the trawler school sitting on that sundeck 10 feet off the water was whether or not we would feel disconnected from the water. After living on Kintala full-time for six years where you could almost drag your hand in the water while sitting in the cockpit, we were worried that being that high up might make us lose that connection. It also occurred to us that most of the friends we made while cruising were made when people saw us sitting in the cockpit playing ukes or reading and they would stop by in their dinghy on the way to town. Would that happen if we were up on the sundeck, especially one fully enclosed? Probably not. Since the cruising community was the best single part of cruising, this was an important factor for us.

Every boat is some sort of compromise, but First Light ticked nearly every one of the boxes on our list. It was newer, so it would be a little easier to get insurance for (More coming on that in a future post.) It had a walk-around queen berth (a deal-breaker for me,) a really nice galley up with a full-sized fridge, very wide, safe side decks with good handholds, a shaded cockpit to relax in at anchor, an electric windlass, solar panels, settees in the flybridge long enough to sleep on, a very good dinghy, a big enough generator, and reliable Cummins engines housed in a decent engine room. The one disadvantage that caused some concern was the near-vertical ladder to the flybridge, but if we still own the boat when we can no longer climb it, we can always run the boat from the lower helm (or get one of our grandkids to come helm the boat to take DeMa and Grampy T out.)

The good thing about there being so many types of trawlers is that there are so many types of sailors who live on them. What works for us may not work for you. So if you're considering a trawler journey, try to think about the things that are important to you. How will you want to live? More on the hook, or more at a dock? How much will you want to travel? To where? What's your budget like? Each of these things will begin to form the answer to your "What type of trawler is best for us?" question. While no boat is a perfect match for all your wishlist, First Light is as close as there was for these two cruisers.

Ed Note: There are articles coming on the whole buying experience including surveys, as well as the whole insuring process.

Here We Go Again

It has been nearly three years since I walked off Kintala without looking back. Since then I have settled into a comfortable life doing an easy job that pays well. Even better, Deb and I ended up living in the “granny flat” over a garage owned by Daughter Middle. She and Family, including six of our eleven grandkids, live in the “main house” about twenty-five feet from our front door. To our complete delight, they come and go without knocking. This is what “family” was meant to be. (And the main reason we have been here for nearly three years.)

Though still dedicated minimalists, we have indulged in a music hobby that delights the soul. On our walls hangs an array of Ukuleles, joined by Deb's guitar. Across the room sits an electric drum kit, fold up electric keyboard, and small amp for the U-bass and electric Uke. Next to my chair lay a tongue drum while in the opposite corner are two bucket drums that also store harmonicas, maracas, a tambourine, and additional mallets. Books on music theory are stored in the iPad for frequent reference.

Six different parks lie within walking or biking range, with two bikes being added to our “stuff." Well, actually four. One of the realities of living on land saw the first two stolen right out of the garage. We are regular visitors to the parks, often accompanied by a gang of grandkids There are special trees we visit to stay close to Mother Earth. They often gift us with a whiff of the magic that so often brushed Kintala's deck and slipped into her cockpit. The sparkle of a Dryad or Nymph will flirt by in the tree shadows and dancing light reminders that, even in the city, we are part of a living world. Something otherwise easily forgotten in the noise-echoing concrete canyons of a modern American city.

In any case I am, by any definition, among the luckiest, richest, most privileged human beings who has ever lived. There are billions of people on this planet. A good bet would be that more than half of them would change places with me in a heartbeat. So why, pray tell, have we bought another boat with the intent of moving aboard and going back to the gypsy lifestyle of a full-time cruiser?

Good question.

First, “full-time” this time doesn't really mean full-time. It means six months on, six months off with a travel time fudge factor. Winter months will be spent on the boat, wandering waters first explored on Kintala: the East Coast, ICW, Florida Keys, maybe the Chesapeake Bay and the Bahama Islands. Hopefully much of that time will be spent with Family as well. Family currently living on their own boat keeping to those same waters. Family we sailed with and lived near by for nearly two years. Family we have missed every day since we left Kintala. It will be good to wander with them once again.

Summer months will see inland waterways added to our forays. A slip about a 30 minute drive from our land-side home will keep the new boat far from the rampaging hurricanes that are becoming ever more common. Regular weekend trips on the river with grandkids who don't live on a boat will keep our ship handling skills sharp. It will rest under the cover on floating docks. As safe as any boat anywhere can be.

That, as they say, is the plan from which to deviate. The details are fuzzy, the distances long, and the budget a question. But we have been down this path before. Flexibility, a willingness to admit mistakes, learn, and go on is the key. Add in, once in a while, a fair bit of stubborn determination and success is a sure thing. Well, as sure a thing as life will allow.

This is an older photo when it was in the water and, no, we would never allow the power cord
to drag in the water...

Another big change is that the new boat is a trawler. Yes, we have gone to the “dark side." As much as we loved sailing, traveling on a sailboat can be trying. Outside steering station, weather challenges, the cumbersome handling characteristics in tight quarters, a draft that tested the depth of the water in many of the places we wanted to go, the glacial pace even when trying to outrun weather? All were stress-inducing limits to what the boat could do. More to the point, the nearly seven decades of my sojourn though this life have left their mark. Once upon a time working a foredeck in a heaving sea and thirty-knot winds, deep on the back side of the clock, was an adventure to be lived. Now it looms more like a death match to be avoided. My fighting days are long over.

Living on Kintala was, at times, just as trying. It was also like living in a cave. The windows were high and small. Airflow was often restricted. Even out on anchor, in the tropics it often made for a very hot and muggy cave. And when caught too far north on the ICW during the trek south? Waking in the morning meant seeing one's breath float through the salon. Struggle into long pants and a sweat shirt before leaving the berth. Bundle up more for the hours spent huddled at the helm, wishing the day was over.

An older photo of the previous owners

The new boat? Fire up the generator and run the AC for a few minutes to cool off the cabin. Or turn on the heat and sip hot coffee in shirt sleeves while waving at the sailboat captains shivering in their cockpits. And no cave. Sitting in the salon means 270 degrees worth of visibility, near 360 if the covers are off the big windows forward of the lower steering station. There is a covered “back porch” on the same level of the salon. It has a gate that leads to the swim platform / mini-dingy dock. A ladder accesses the covered flying bridge / lounge area. The all around view is amazing. Truth to tell, it is a little intimidating. Kintala was, by most measure, a slightly bigger boat. But when standing at the upper helm this thing looks massive. One can see the entire boat, including the bow! How cool is that? What was going on at the bow was always a mystery when at the helm on Kintala.

That nearly seven decades that has slowed me down on the foredeck weigh on me in other ways. Mine is a good job. But no job is as good as not having to have a job. A huge portion of my waking hours are dictated by the whims of those whose only real goal is to use my life's hours to stuff their pockets with cash. They do share a little of what clients pay them with me. (Otherwise I wouldn't be there at all.) But a far larger portion of it ends up in their bank account rather than mine. We are near a place where we don't need any more money to finish our journey. Why spend the hours that remain doing someone else's bidding? But I could “not work” and still not go back to cruising. So again, pray tell, why?

Simple. I miss being on big water. I miss living with the ebb and flow of a more natural life spent closer to the rhythms of Mother Earth. (Though some might argue that Mother Earth is getting a bit cross with humankind at the moment.) And, to be honest, as much as I adore having family so close, having so much of the rest of humanity equally close is...trying. Each day sees more carelessness, more conflict and anger, more lies and hubris and hate, than experienced in months of living on the water. I loathe having to drive city streets and highways, where the worst of selfishness and self-indulgent arrogance is on regular display. The bits of car parts lining the shoulders and regular slowdowns for accidents are constant reminders of the real danger possibly lurking in every car and truck nearby. Each trip is likely to include at least one near miss; someone cutting across my lane with inches to spare or ridding my rear bumper in an apparent attempt to get me to ride the bumper of the car ahead. But cool and calm is required. Many of these wankers carry a gun along with their attitude. I will not miss being around them. Still, there will be sacrifices and compromises.

Not all of our new toys can travel with us. I am going miss the hours spent hammering out the primitive rhythms on the drum kit, a beat that helps put the world in focus. There is not enough wall space for seven ukuleles and a guitar. But which ones to leave behind? It isn't likely the bikes can fit anywhere, nor can all of the tools I have re-acquired having moved back on land.

But by far the hardest part will be, as it was before, saying good-by to those I love most in the world. The grandkids will grown many inches during the months we are away. There will be stories of things that happened while we were wandering, events that we missed. The jolt to the heart that missed time will bring cannot be, should not be, discounted. At times there will certainly be thoughts that the hurt was too much of a cost, that we should have stayed put.

Yet there will be other stories, stories that could not have been told without a boat being part of it. Stories of river travels with grandkids having a new adventure. Stories they will pass along to generations I will never see. Stories of traveling with the the other grandkids whose missing smiles are hard to take even now. Stories that share the magic of living different and exploring free. Stories whose foundation lies in the knowledge that life is what it is. Make of it what you can. Accept what happens. Keep going as long as you can.

So we will be going once again. But not tomorrow or even this year. More on that as soon as we figure out just where we stand with this new boat.

A different kind of view

A different kind of wake