First Christmas on First Light...

...sort of.

It was Christmas Eve and then Christmas Day. And we were on First Light. But the boat was / is still on the hard. Those familiar with the cruising life know that living on the hard is a couple of steps down (in the up direction) from camping. Though it must be admitted it is fewer steps down from First Light's swim platform to the ground than it was from Kintala's deck. About half as many actually.  Both Deb and I made comments on how much easier on the hard life has been. Still...

There is no using the head when the boat is on the hard, requiring regular trips down the ladder to the community bathroom and shower. The galley is of limited use. The power grid in the boat yard requires judicious use of electrical juice. Run the space heater, or the microwave, or the coffee maker, or the fridge. Pick more than one at the same time and it is down the ladder to reset the GFCI. Fortunately it was cold enough that a cooler out in the cockpit negated the need for the fridge. Coffee heated in just a few minutes, not long enough for the cabin to cool off too much with the heater shut down. The microwave was also a short burst kind of load. Which was good because it got pretty cold, making heater power a priority. When the temp in the berth getting into the mid 40s means shedding a layer of clothing and removing some of the blankets piled over your bald head, you know it has been cold.

Santa had more important places to visit than an old boat sitting on the hard. But a little of his Magic Dust must have blown off the sleigh as he went by making his rounds because things went pretty smooth this work week. (Extra points if you are old enough to know about "... a little bit more Magic Dust for Santa...") Those familiar with the cruising life also know that is a rarity for a boat on the hard. Generally boat projects go from "Here's what's needed" to "What?", deteriorates to "Oh No", then completely collapses into "(Insert your favorite swear word here)." Determination mixed with having no choice but to soldier on leads to "Let's try this." Then the project rebounds to a conclusion of "That got it" or "That will have to do"... depending on your luck and skill.

We'll leave to your imagination the difficulty in routing
this hose through that box...

A new bilge pump cleared a major survey discrepancy. Separation of the AC and DC panels, another survey mandatory repair, was accomplished with some fiberglass cloth and a Sailrite sewing machine. Generator exhaust hoses were replaced. Good progress was made cleaning and painting fuel tanks. The main doors almost work. (Okay, that one did finish in the "will have to do" category. When the boat is back in the water and taking on its designed shape once again, we will take another stab at adjusting them.) Deb got the chart plotter talking to the RADAR and the auto-pilot. AIS has to wait for some paperwork, but a working RADAR and  auto-pilot makes my pilot's feet do a happy dance. We also built some custom shelves into two hanging lockers which were never going to see hanging clothes, vastly increasing clothing and pantry storage space. All of this accomplished in the space of a few days. Days where Deb's runs to get supplies and parts meant joining the hoards of holiday shoppers, chewing into the available hours. How she manages to do that baffles me. That much humanity all holidayed-up and packed together for an orgy of frenzied merchandizing? I completely understand why Santa lives at the North Pole, does his thing in the middle of the night, and at that only once a year. Any more, and his "HO-HO-HOs" would be "OH NO - OH NOs!"

After.

Before...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ABYC standards now require panel separation
between AC and DC panels. With all the cables
and wires added over the years there was no way
to install a rigid plastic box over the AC panel so
a soft cover was called for.

 

 In addition we made plans with both an engine and electrical contractor for them to get some needed work done early in the New Year.

I am of two minds over that. It is work I would like to do myself. But what I really want to do is get the boat ready to splash. Since we have the income to cover the expense, parsing out those projects should move our plans ahead by weeks, if not months. There is still plenty of work for us to do. Like all older boats First Light's gel coat has taken a beating over the years. Damage that is at or near the water line needs addressed before she gets wet again. There is clean up, scrub, and paint work galore still needed in the engine room. Damaged upper helm seats and rotted core in the cockpit hardtop are demanding attention. Dull and faded paint work chides my eyeballs every time I look at it. The windshield wipers need fixed even if they never see any use, another pilot thing. At least once I want to motor through the rain, RADAR keeping an eye on the sky, auto-pilot holding a course, while I sip coffee in short sleeves, dry and snug as a bug. There is one thru-hull still frozen shut in spite of pulling off the hose and blasting it with penetrating oil from both sides for a couple of days. Something that may yet turn into a serious project. 

But, for this Christmas week, things feel like they are coming together. Hopes are beginning to feel like plans. It actually seems reasonable to think that our second Christmas on First Light will be spent riding to an anchor somewhere, with family near by, watching the holidayed-up from a comfortable distance off shore.