Getting it all done.

It has been a few months, about five actually, since First Light settled into her new home in Alton, IL. For the first couple of those months we were just getting settled back into land living again. We would check on the boat now and again and even got a couple of projects done before winter hit hard.

The first of those was replacing the starboard side cleat that was torn off of the boat while tied to a free wall waiting out a storm on the Great Lakes. That turned into a bit of a task as much of the shower stall had to be disassembled (you can read that as destroyed) in order to install a new one. When it was all said and done we managed to both replace the cleat and improve the shower at the same time. By then winter was at hand. A long day was spent winterizing the boat. Which is a bit of a job when there are two engines, a generator, head, and water systems involved. With that done and First Light tied into her slip with about ten different lines, she was ready for winter. We checked on her pretty regularly but working on the boat was not high on the list of things to do.

New shower wall behind which is the starboard midship cleat

Come the first hint of warmer weather, that changed. Deb took on the job of repairing some of the interior wood in the V-berth. Wood that had, truth to tell, been begging to be fixed since we first bought the boat. I took a deep breath and then started the repair on the aft deck cover. The one that also supports our solar panel array. I had already repaired it once, replacing the rotted plywood with new bits that I had coated with fiberglass, glued in place, and painted. But it turned out that wasn't sufficient and the new panels started to rot and peel away before we got out of Canada. Which chafed at the mechanic in me. I had clearly missed something.

It took a few days to pull down and sand off all off the rotted stuff. As I did, I noticed that virtually all of the worst of it was where the solar panels were mounted. The roof was an add-on. Which was pretty well done. Solid structure carrying the load to the hull.  The Solar panels were another add on, and not so well done. They had been simply been mounted on top of the 1/4 in ply with no thought of transferring that load to the more robust structure. Ply that was not up to the task of supporting that kind of weight while pounding through the Great Lakes. It is a bit difficult to describe, but we added 2x4 and 2x6 supports to carry the weight of the solar panels directly to the main structure that supports the roof itself, bypassing the thin plywood. Several cans of short haired fiberglass filler were then applied, sanded, spot puttied as required, sanded again, filled, and painted. All of it work done over head, a bit of a challenge for this well-used bod of mine. But it got done, is much more robust than it was, and looks pretty good. Part of the work was aided by two grandsons and a granddaughter who helped with the easier sanding and painting. Which made the whole exercise a lot more fun.

Reinforcing beams added for solar panel mounts

While that project was underway, Deb did some more interior repairs and handled some plumbing issues that popped up over the winter. She also changed oil and filters for both engines and the generator. We were delighted when all three fired up with zero hesitation, and no leaks. 

A couple of weeks later, the rest of the family was on vacation down south. Deb and I took advantage of them being gone to fire up First Light and take her out for a shakedown cruise. There is too much of the pilot/mechanic in me to have a boat full of grandkids along for the first foray out on the Mississippi River after a long hiatus and several projects. Everything worked just as it should and we declared First Light as a going proposition once again.

A few days later, First Light left the dock with five of the six grandkids we live with along for the ride. Three of them got a chance to drive the boat. One is too young and the oldest wasn't interested. We ambled up the river a while, pulled a U-turn and headed back to the dock, tying up after just shy of two hours on the river.

Once tied-to, the two grandsons helped us splash the Dink and lower its outboard into the water for the first time in many months. Given that it had proved to be a major hassle during our previous months on First Light, neither Deb nor I had any faith that it was going to start. Much to our surprise, that Yamaha 9.9 took just a little coaxing to get it putting along. The grandsons and I took it out for a short spin, each of them getting a chance at the tiller.

While the boys helped with the dinghy, the girls made use of the cooler pool temperature (the air temp was hovering around 100°).

And later we fired up the air conditioner and enjoyed having one on the boat.

So our first summer of being local river boaters is officially underway. There are still projects to do. But being back on the water felt really good. We are going to enjoy it for as long as we can.

Some of our slip neighbors

Let the games begin...

Ed Note: This post spans about a week's worth of being at our home dock.

The marina has been the temporary home for many Looper friends for the last couple of days. The river situation south of St. Louis is a bit questionable at the moment. It looks like they can make Kentucky Lake easily enough with the only concern being how many boats are going to be stopped at the lake trying to decide how hard to push south, a decision made even more difficult with the Florida Big Bend area being hammered yet again by another major hurricane. I'm not sure I could talk myself into taking a boat any further south than I am right now. Both Deb and I are kind of glad that we don't have to make any traveling decisions at the moment. But that doesn't make it any easier for friends who live in Florida and other friends who need to go that way to get home.

Our friends on Number 99 as they pass the arch on their way south.

A couple of days ago, we spent the day as tour guides for our home town, eight of us enjoying the city's zoo and then four of that group going on to visit the Arch. (Deb and I have been there and have no real need to visit it again.) We have also been the target address for some of our friends getting things shipped to them. Getting things shipped is a relentless pain for those of us who travel by boat with a current address being “somewhere on the water”. We have helped out in some other small ways as well. It is what people who live on boats tend to do, as most of us have needed a favor or two along the way. Deb and I have been on the receiving end of a helping hand so many times. It is nice having the chance to be on the offering side for a change.

He seems to think that way is south...

So we headed off to the marina with two granddaughters in tow to a) actually start getting some work done on the boat and, b) meet up for dinner with the gang before they head south in the morning. The  “b” part of the day was a really good time. The granddaughters charmed the group while we shared stories with people who are now good friends that we might not see again for a while.

The “a” part of the day was a little different story. It was the girls' first time on the boat and they fully approve, even if we didn't leave the slip. Deb found some stuff that melts spider poop. Spray it on, wait a minute or two, wipe (or hose) it off. One small step from being pure magic. Ah, but after that things got a bit less fun. I decided to tackle replacing the starboard side midship cleat damaged while on the wall in Grand River. From the start we knew that the outboard wall of the shower stall was the only access point. The was no choice but to get behind that wall.

We didn't remove the wall so much as destroy it. It was mounted with nails buried into the wood, leaving no way to pry it off without trashing the wall itself. I guess nails are cheaper than screws and/or it never occurred to the fabricating or design team that anyone would ever need access to that area again (this in spite of the plumbing lines and wiring runs behind the wall).

Even that brute force method of removal took most of the day. Which sounds bad, and is. But isn't quite as bad as it might seem. The wall is (was) a thin slab of laminated wood-like material  that was showing the damage of decades on a boat. The support wood it was attached to was in even worse shape. And, as is common with boats, the install itself was shoddy with nails sticking out in skin-gouging places where someone kind of missed the target. The wood supports looked like they were hacked off with a dull ax and were even more rotted out than the wall itself. Understandable, as it was untreated raw wood. In my experience it was marine-industry-acceptable since it was all hidden and likely assembled by people making minimum wage with someone standing over them demanding that they move faster and use whatever material was lying around. The low standards of marine industry quality control is my normal expectation whenever I get involved with a boat project, but it is still a disappointment. And, to be fair, it isn't likely the manufacturer ever expected the boat to be in service as long as it has.

After the new cleat is in place, the shower will be rebuilt with new and better material. It's my boat and I can make it as professional-looking as my skill and wallet will allow if I want, even if no one else will ever see what is behind the wall again. 

With the wall destroyed, it became obvious that access to the cleat mounting bolts was still going to be a problem. As expected, the cleat was through-bolted at the edge of the deck with a backing plate. What was not expected is that the three of the four bolts as well as most of the backing plate were then fiberglassed over. It would appear that the deck was assembled as a unit with the cleats installed, then that unit was glassed onto the hull. Thus the outboard bolts are completely buried where the hull and deck are joined. We were stymied for the day, but that was okay as it was time for dinner with our friends. Then home with two tired granddaughters and one worn out Grampy T.

After removing the retractable clothesline, we drilled a hole big enough for the boroscope

so we could be sure the nuts were where we thought they were. Alas, all you could see was one tiny bit of nut edge under fiberglass.

After removing a bit of fiberglass and one of the nuts, the backing plate became visible.

After a day off, we were back at it.  The forward inboard sheared bolt wasn't glassed over and was easily removed. The aft inboard bolt was the one that didn't shear and was still holding the cleat to the boat. That nut was covered with fiberglass but was accessible. A few seconds with a Dremel and I could hold the nut while Deb unscrewed the cleat from the deck. (The nut was spinning in a glassed in pocket.) 

We will be replacing the cleat with a different style that has just two mount bolts. Not as beefy as the original, but it will get the job done. Particularly since we will not make the mistake of running fore and aft spring lines to those cleats while getting bashed against a wall in three-foot rollers.

When the new cleat is installed, we will tackle the job of rebuilding the shower stall. The goal is to make it look more professional and "tidy" than it did. That is not going to be an easy job and will likely take a while. Fortunately, we are not in any hurry to go anywhere. Which is particularly good because the cleat repair and shower rebuild is far from the biggest job we need to do. With the replacement cleat on order and the shower cleaned up from its disaster-in-progress state we decided to get one more task done. It took less than an hour to replace the low pressure water pump that we had shanghaied into serving as a deck wash pump with an actual deck wash pump. Big difference. Not sure when the next time will be that the hook will come up covered in mud but when that happens we will be blasting that mud off with ease.

A day or so after that : With the new cleat in hand, we headed back to the boat. The first task was to "move" the original mounting holes through both fiberglass and backing plate a few fractions of an inch so the new bolts would go in. A brand new beefy round file moved them where they needed to be. Some fiberglass and gel-coat work followed and, had I mixed the batches a little hotter, we might have finished up the install. But  the gelcoat was going to take a while to set and we were about out of day, so homeward we went.

This morning, Grandsons (two) and I headed back to the marina to finish the cleat repair. The Grandsons did the sanding, washer filing and fitting, and final install. All I did was watch, lay down the sealer, and put the final bit of torque on the install. There is still a little gelcoat work to do around the new cleat. Actually, there is gelcoat work all over the boat awaiting attention. The cleat will get its share.

So we are now several days in to our "the-boat-is-a-hobby-not-our-home" post Loop life. A few projects are already well along. It feels pretty good.

The old cleat just taped on till we made it home

The two inaccessible outboard holes glassed in

The two accessible holes ground out so the new cleat bolts would line up with the holes

Waiting for the new cleat to arrive

Guess what needs to happen to that ever-too-long screw???

Washers to beef up the backing plate.

The new cleat installed

Yes, much more gelcoat needs to be done...

More photos from our zoo trip

He told you south was that way!

Work clothes on...work clothes off...

We really want to be on the move. But, with the wind out on the big lake being directly on the beam at near 20 knots, we elected to stay put for today. Tucked in where we are there is just a slight breeze. Except for the waves and wakes that work their way in from the little lake, the water is pretty still. Yet the boat is still doing a slow pendulum swing around the anchor. I have no idea what is making it move around.

With a thick overcast the solar panels are just loafing along at barely 2 amps. Doing much of anything (like Deb baking cookies, yeah!) requires running the generator. Which is why we lug the thing around. Other than that, we read, practice music, and watch the boat swing.

Since there wasn't anything pressing to do, the mystery of the wash down pump failure got my attention. Why “mystery” you ask? The pump just stopped working. No grinding noises, no "something is too hot" smell, no smoke, no burned wiring. It didn't start loading up or running slow. It didn't blow the fuse. With the switch on, I measured 12+ volts at the power block at the motor where both the wires were solidly attached. But the pump didn't hum, buzz, or make any of the kinds of noises I used to associate with a motor failing. Odd. But it still no workie. We switched it out with a plain water pump even though it produced way less water pressure than the wash down pump since some water at the bow when pulling up an anchor is better than no water at the bow. But the whole thing with the not working pump wasn't adding up and my mechanic's sub-conscience likely chewed on it for most of the night while the rest of my brain was asleep. Come morning, with nothing much else demanding my attention, the questions got to be down right irritating. Why didn't it make some noise? Why didn't it fry the fuse? 

My mechanic brothers and I share a "get it done" attitude that I think we learned from Gramps, our life-long truck mechanic grandfather. Broke is broke. Taking it apart to see what is what can't make it work any worse than it already isn't. If, per chance, you manage to break it a bit more by taking it apart, it isn't likely anyone else is going to notice. Besides, good mechanics actually fix things whenever they get the chance.

So, just like yesterday, boat clothes off, work clothes on. Later, work clothes off, boat clothes on.

I put a cover over the salon table, grabbed the pump, and started unscrewing screws and taking off parts. One of the parts that came apart was a little switch that is activated by a diaphragm in the water chamber. It keeps the pump from burning itself out trying to push water through a hose that isn't open. The failure of that little switch would (obviously) explain the mystery. Even a perfectly sound pump can't run if there is a switch in the "off" position.

None of the parts of the switch appeared to have failed in any way. But it wouldn't take much to jam it. So I wiped off all the bits, put it back together, and touched the leads to one of the ship's batteries. The pump spun. It wasn't hooked up to any water or bolted to anything solid so I didn't run it for long. But it was turning while not making any nasty, grinding, noises or throwing any sparks.

An aside...My aforementioned grandfather and one of my brothers sacrificed the end of a thumb to Eligius. (If you get the reference you are way more Catholic than me. I had to go online to see if there was a patron saint of mechanics.)  All of the Akey clan mechanics have a scar or two from doing things like holding a pump with one hand while playing around a hot battery with the other. Nobody ever said fixing things is a perfectly safe way to make a living.

So the pump might be working?  What else to do but take the wrong but working pump back off and put the correct, but not sure if it's working pump back on? We are not going anywhere today anyway.

At first the correct but not working pump was still not working correctly. I had to tap the pressure switch to make it start pumping again after filling the hose and shutting off. A slight tap and it was running. After two or three taps it kept working like it is supposed to, starting back up without a tap. Will it last? No clue. But for now the worst we will have to do is reach in the hole, give it a tap, and just let the water run until the anchor is aboard. Not perfect, but still better than not having a wash down hose available. Been there. Done that. Don't want to do it again.

Making a small space work

I must confess—I'm an organizer. I hate clutter. I hated it when we lived in a big house. I hated it when we downsized to a condo. I hated it even more when we moved onto Kintala. So it goes without saying that I still hate it on First Light. As a result, the first year and a half that we owned First Light before we launched, a good bit of our vacation work trips to the boat included projects to give us better storage options. Even though we've owned First Light now for 3-1/2 years, I'm still finding ways to improve our storage for maximizing it and making it easier to access. Since we're stuck in the anchorage waiting for a suitable weather window to head to New York, it seemed the perfect time to tackle an organization project I'd been mulling over for quite a while—the medicine cabinet storage area in the head.

First Light came with a single shelf behind sliding mirror panels that make up the medicine cabinet. I did gather up some plastic leftover boxes to line the single shelf with in an attempt to corral some of the loose bottles of stuff, but the lower bin always seemed to be a tangled mess of things which meant you could never find what you were looking for without removing all of it. Not ideal. Plus, there wasn't really any suitable place for stowing the things that live on the sink counter when we're stationary but have to be stowed for underway.

We happened to have an extra piece of 1x6 that would make two additional shelves, and the 1/4 round needed to support them, in one of our "extra lumber bits for whatever" storage areas under the pullman berth. Out came the miter saw, the drill, a few screws, and two hours later we now have four shelves. I still need to get a few more plastic boxes to organize the lower shelf a little better, but wow it's an improvement.

Eventually the shelves will get painted, but for now they've gone a long way to improving my mood.

I did a post (Espacios Utiles) about some of the storage space conversions that we did right after we bought First Light. Here's a few of the photos from that post as well as a couple other posts.

I needed a place to store my Sailrite sewing machine and sewing supplies. This cabinet under the lower helm station is huge and it was taken up (very unproductively) by a plastic four-drawer rolly cabinet that left a ton of space unused. We added a shelf above the sewing machine and a lip to keep the machine from sliding in rough seas.

We really lucked out with this find at Home Goods. It replaced the heavy upholstered furniture that was there with tons of usable storage. We keep all of our most used tools there like our drill, Dremel, saws, tapes, rulers, etc in the one, and in the other side we keep all of the sun screens when not in use as well as a couple of ukuleles. We have nine...yes nine... of them on board as well as two guitars which brings me to the next storage challenge.

We built this cabinet in our garage in St. Louis then transported it to the boat. My artist granddaughter painted the top with  a picture of Tim's first ukulele as well as the music from the very first song he learned to play on it. We sized it so it could be used as an end table, which meant that only four ukuleles could fit inside. What is a captain with UAS (Ukulele Acquisition Syndrome) supposed to do? Why, buy another bench or two with storage space of course...

We also converted a couple of hanging lockers to more useful storage spaces. Now, don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people that like hanging lockers, but we don't hang any of our boat clothes except our coats and they go on hooks. So we divided up the lockers with shelves, one of which houses our clothes in suitcase zipper bags, and the other one which became our pantry.

By far the most challenging but rewarding storage project was one located in the pullman berth. There was a compartment that had been used for a washer/dryer at one point, then for an Engle fridge/freezer, and then when we bought the boat it housed a three-tier basket storage thing that used less than half the space. In addition to that, the hole was just that—a hole with rough paneling edges and no trim and no door. It rubbed me completely the wrong way so I set about to convert it. I built some shelves inside to house all of our hardware and some oddball tools like the heat gun and soldering iron, a shelf for our books that we give away, and other miscellaneous things that just didn't have a place anywhere else. Then I set about to custom-make some doors for it that would match the existing decor.

In addition to converting cabinets, a lot of organization is done with various plastic boxes and baskets. The top of our fridge has a low pin rail for which I was able to find some plastic boxes that fit perfectly. The boxes hold our need-quick stuff like flashlights and hats and keys and such as well as some oddball things for our instruments and some DVD cases.

Adding a couple magazine racks to hold the miscellaneous books that seem to end up all over the place also went a long way toward making the boat livable. And a couple really heavy duty hooks to hang the backpacks on became a necessity when our grandson was on board but they still get used now that he's moved on to Alaska.   

Organization is a highly personal thing. What one person can tolerate can drive another crazy, so it's best to discuss it out with whoever your partner is on the boat. Fortunately for me, my husband is just as uncomfortable with clutter as I am and is 100% behind any project that makes the boat less so.

But I still have a junk drawer...