Hydrocoat 2-year update

If you haven't already seen it, the Hydrocoat 2-year update is now up on the Hydrocoat tab.

Hydrocoat Review

It's all good ...

JB and his crew made room, so Kintala is sitting on the hard. Before she went into the lift we stopped at the pump-out. Backing out of the slip and over to that part of the dock went well, and it looked like I knew what I was doing. From the pump-out dock to the lift was a straight, in-reverse run of maybe two boat lengths. Within moments JB was yelling at me, Deb was trying to get a word in edge-wise, and Kintala was being her normal obstinate self in reverse. No excuse, I totally botched the approach to the lift pit. Which, I am going to claim, proves that I am an “open water” kind of guy who doesn't do well in the tight confines of being near land. In any case, for the first time in nearly 19 months our old Tartan is dry, sitting on her keel, and surrounded by support stands. Every time I get off the boat there is this little mantra I need to remember: “We are on land now, it is 12 steps down a very steep ladder, and one can get seriously hurt if one is not careful.”

Land, I have decided, is a dangerous place to be.

No wonder land dwellers show such obvious signs of stress and mental challenges. It doesn't help that we have been driving around. Apparently driving every day does something evil to one's psyche. What, pray tell, is wrong with these people getting too close, going too fast, talking on the phone, and clearly not paying much attention while getting too close, driving too fast, and talking on the phone? I really have no desire to share their apparent death-wish.

Almost 2 years in the water and this is how our Hydrocoat looks.

On the good side we can see that our bottom paint has done an excellent job; that our zincs are eroding too fast, that the stuff that comes out of the galley drain is hard on bottom paint, and that there is a small “smile” repair that needs done. I am reminded that living on a sailboat on the hard is a bit like living in a childhood tree house. Taken in the right frame of mind, it can be kind of fun. So long as it is temporary.

We are, as I suspect happens to most sailors who find themselves on the dry parts of Mother Earth, a bit overwhelmed by the list of things to do. The auto-helm, repairs on the fore deck, and bottom work must all be addressed before we find ourselves floating once again. Adding to the fun, sometime last night the manual windlass barfed its oil all over the fore deck. Not sure what happened, or why, but clearly that has to be rectified before we toss our heavy Mantus and a good length of chain back into the wet parts of Mother Earth. And there is something wonky with our Cape Horn Wind Vane that needs explained and addressed. It is a thing easier done on a step ladder than from a dink in a rough mooring field.

This, I remind myself, is as much a part of the cruising life as being anchored off of Crab Cay in the Abaco Islands. Cruising boats are beat up, battered, used hard, and pushed hard. We have found a good place, surrounded by friends, with family near by, to get ready for the next stage. Some of this time will be spent with Daughters (3) an grand kids (soon to be 9).

And that is all good.

Hydrocoat Update

There's an update on the Hydrocoat review on the tab in the bar above if you're looking for bottom paint.

Random thoughts on a half day

Deb and I finished up the bottom paint around 12:30. Instead of taking on another project in the heat of the day we decided to give ourselves a bit of a break, grab some lunch, head into a nearby town for some ice cream, maybe even take in a movie. I haven't been off-site in more than a week. For an ex-airplane driver used to wandering around the country that is like being house bound. On my half day of leisure some thoughts come to mind ...

Hydrocoat "RED" isn't really red, it is more like a sandstone pink. And "BLACK" isn't really black, it's more like a dark chocolate brown. It looks okay, but not quite like I expected. The nearly three weeks of constant effort to get the bottom done seems like a lot. If pressed I might admit that Kintala is slightly more seaworthy than she was; after all the concrete void is now sealed. Supposedly the Chesapeake Bay water critters will find a poor purchase on the not-so-shiny new paint as well. Add that to the fact that the boat does look a far sight more "nautical" than she did - maybe the three weeks of effort were worth it after all. One thing is for sure; her good looking bottom makes the various dock scuffs on her flanks look much worse than they are. My operator's head tells me don't worry about it, there are surely more scuffs in our near future. My mechanic's heart says its time to break out the polish.

Putting paint on with a roller is a really cheesy way to do it. It doesn't seem too bad if one thinks of a boat as a house which, in a way, it is. But if one tends to think of a boat as a machine, like a car or an airplane or a motorcycle, then rolling on the paint definitely falls into a category of maintenance usually associated with trailer parks. There is probably no cost effective alternative. But I can't help but think that doing a better job of prepping and painting boat bottoms, using just some of the technology available with process and product, would eliminate all of the heartburn over "osmotic blistering". It isn't the fiberglass in the hulls, it isn't the water filled environment, it is just the low rent way we paint them causing the problems.

Kintala probably lost 0.1% of the speed she might have gained to the kamikaze bug corpses now embedded in her new paint. Some of them dove right into the leading edge of the roller which, I thought, was kind of rude. Most of them were corps bugs though, and so smashed into minute little specks that all but disappeared. (The spiders were another story.)

There is still a lot of stuff to do; prop, anchor locker, new anchor, wind vane, pull down the canvas, rig the boat - inside and out - for road travel, get the mast welded, sheaves, LEDs, SSB, VHF antenna, rigging repair and inspection. Then, someday, the boat will go back in the water and a bunch of this stuff has to get done the other way around.

I'm sure glad to be done for today though ... necesita el descanso.

Early mornings, late nights, and lots of progress

A short picture collection from today.

We moved the stand pads and finished the red coat.

After the red coat cured for a few hours we did the black coat. After it sits all night we'll move the stand pads and paint under them as well. The coverage of the black over the red was phenomenal. It continues to impress us.

I think she's looking pretty good, don't you?

Late nights...

Our dinner view from the clubhouse.

Un hombre contento

With the exception of the surveyor, everyone who looks at Kintala's hull agrees; sand it, clean it, paint it, throw it in the water. That work is well underway and should be done by next week. (There is a lot of sanding, cleaning, and painting to do!) The mast lift was a thing of beauty and all 60+ feet of aluminum and rigging now lies content on saw horses awaiting disassembly. We did find one spreader bracket badly cracked and will try to get that welded before we go. If not, I'm sure the East coast marina can get it done when we get there. The prop will come off in a couple of hours to get overhauled. Most importantly Deb has made the move from the city to the boat and we are working side by side on her list of projects. (Remember, I threw my list away!)

I am a happy man.

At least 15 more days will pass before the truck arrives; my best guess is that finishing the bottom will take another 5. In descending order, and in various places, sanding the bottom is leaving exposed; light blue top coat, darker blue top coat, some grey something, a layer of what everyone claims is VC-17 (that is the brown layer) bondo, epoxy filler, gel coat, and fiberglass; the smoothed patchwork of color a vast improvement over what it looked like in the lift. Of course grinding away the obnoxious smile to a perfectly sound keel joint helped a lot. It is probably a bit insane to work this hard at what is mostly cosmetics. The only real repair is fairing in the keel joint. Other than that we could give the hull a once over with some scotchbright, roll on a couple of layers of magic antifouling paint, toss it in the water. The hull will be just as sound when we pull it in a year or two as it will be with all this work. But it is my boat. I can go a bit crazy making the bottom pretty if I want to.

There actually turned out to be a blister or two. Poking at them released a trace of moisture not even amounting to a drop. The pointy end struck hard maybe 2 mm deep. I’m not convinced the water wasn’t trapped between paint layers but I’ll give the surveyor the benefit of the doubt. And actually (hold tight, I’m going to try and be nice here) admit he might have had the barest hint of a point. I don’t know what the shop rates are at marinas, but if they are just half of what we paid for ye ‘ol jet; Kintala is going to leave Carlyle with a bottom job that would have cost way north of 5 grand in labor alone. I’ll admit, if I had to write a check that big for a couple of layers of bottom paint on a 42 foot boat, it would be an issue.

But the mast is down, work progresses, Deb is here, and even the weather is helping. This has been the coolest, most pleasant midwest summer any of us can remember. Just the thought of trying to do this in the blast furnace of last year could give a person the vapors.

I am a happy man.