Bungs

This weekend Mariah finally got relaunched after sitting on the hard for two weeks. We thought we only had to replace the stuffing box, but complications ended up making us pay the yard to replace the entire propeller shaft, stuffing box, and cutlass bearing. Mariah does have a nice new coat of bottom paint now, so she should be nice and fast when I finally find time to sail her.

Randy has put two of the new Yellow Cedar planks on, so I got to fill in the screw holes with "bungs" (little round chunks of wood). Filling in screw holes is a necessary activity because the screws will corrode and the surrounding wood will rot if they are left exposed to the elements. Also, having a bunch of little holes in the side of the boat would just look ugly.

Putting bungs in a plank involves several steps, the first of which is dipping the bungs in epoxy glue. This is a rather unpleasant part because epoxy is highly toxic (or carcinogenic, or something), and you really don't want to get it on your hands. You have to wear rubber gloves, which feel disgusting. The second step is to put the bung in the screw hole. That part is pretty self-explanatory. The third step is to hammer the bungs into the holes. This sounds simple, but it takes some finesse to hit the bungs hard enough to go all the way in, but not so hard that they split or shatter. The final step is wiping up the epoxy drips, which also involves rubber gloves, and is therefore also rather disgusting. Luckily, the feeling of accomplishment from filling in a few hundred little holes outweighs the unpleasantness of rubber gloves, so putting in bungs ends up being kind of fun.

New Planks

Step One: Find the screw holes.

Step Two: Dip pre-cut Bungs in epoxy glue,
then stick them in the holes.

Step Three: Hammer the bungs into their holes.
This is what a bung looks like after it's been hammered.

Reconstruction and Flying Sailboats

           Misogi has been slowly going back together. Randy has put all of the frames, decking, and a plank back in the rotten corner of my parents' bedroom; and frames have been cleaned, scraped and CPES'd. One of my projects, which I'm quite proud of, was putting a dutchman in one of the frames. A dutchman is a little (or sometimes large) chunk of wood that is glued into a hole in a larger piece of wood where damaged material has been removed. The spot where I put my dutchman is the frame on the port side where the boarding door attaches to. The screws for the door's hinge had left so many holes in the wood that the top of the frame had to be removed, so I cut away the damaged wood with a dremel and soaked it in epoxy. Next, I cut out the dutchman. This took several hours of trial and error because the piece had to fit precisely and my wood-cutting skills leave something to be desired. Eventually, the piece was cut and my dad and I brushed it with thickened epoxy and glued it into it's hole. Hopefully, It will be just as strong as the original frame. 

         Anther project tackled today was hauling out Mariah. She hasn't had her bottom painted in a few years, so it was definitely time. Unfortunately, the haul-out wasn't as straight forward as I thought it was going to be. I had to get the genoa off of the roller furler (the yard won't haul with the sail attached), and that took a good 30 minutes of trying to untie ancient knots and plenty of cursing. When Mariah was finally ready to go, we found out that her cantankerous little diesel was barely strong enough to push the boat into the 20 knt headwind. I had the engine at it's maximum safe RPM's, and we were still making only about half a knt of headway against the wind. It took us much longer to get to the lift than I had expected. Luckily, the actual lifting bit went off without a hitch and Mariah is now safely on the hard. 

My Dutchman

Randy's Rebuilt Corner

Flying Mariah!

Turning Point

          One of the unfortunate side-effects of spring is the seagulls' nesting season. As beautiful and interesting as these birds are, they can be a bit of a nuisance. They tend to build their nests on top of warehouses and boathouses (especially Misogi's), and cover anyone and anything within a 100' radius of the boathouse with a stinking white layer of feces. Mariah, my sailboat, happens to be docked right next to a row of boathouses, so I moved her over to Misogi's future slip on the "liveaboard dock." She looks a bit out of place next to all the towering yachts and massive fishing boats, but now I don't have to clean poop off of her twice a week. 

          We've finally reached the end of the deconstruction phase on Misogi's port side. It is, in theory, as torn apart as it's going to get, and we should be able to clean up the frames and start putting everything back together this week. One of things I've learned about our boat during this project is how strongly built it is. The frames are fastened to each other with massive 1/4" diameter bolts, the planks are made of incredibly dense and hard wood, and huge (14" by 4") solid mahogany beams run the length of the boat under the decks. I've looked at the structural bits of several newer fiberglass boats, and Misogi seems many times stronger than any of them. Well, her non-rotten bits anyway. 

My Parents' Bedroom Wall

Not Much Boat Left...

Mariah

Spring and Squishy Wood

Spring has finally arrived! On Friday, Bellingham was decidedly miserable and winter-like, but over the weekend something changed. There's a few tulips sprouting up around town, the buds on trees and bushes look ready to burst, and thousands of small black flies have sprung out of nowhere. Even the air seems to have changed; the sharp and smokey odor of winter has been replaced by a sweet smell of growing plants, soggy grass, and mud. Unfortunately the weather, although it's warmed to a somewhat warm-ish 50 degrees, is still just as dark and rainy as it was last week.

The boat project continues slowly but steadily. Randy, the shipwright, has built most of the framing for the portuguese bridge, and the starboard section has been CPES'd in preparation for it's plywood skin. The port corner of the foredeck has been rather brutally disassembled with a sawzall and hammer, and the rotten port sheer plank has been removed. We exposed a rot pocket on the back of the pilothouse, and the texture of the wood was incredible. It had probably been rotting for a decade or two, and multiple sloppy repairs had only served to trap water inside, so one of the main structural beams had been reduced to little more than dirt. I could literally just scoop out squishy clumps of wood with my bare hands. Luckily, the rot didn't extend too far into the deck or cabin side. 

On a more positive note, I was able to remove Misogi's old name very easily. It was firmly stuck onto the transom in huge black vinyl letters, but they peeled off like a banana skin when I used a heat gun and sharp chisel. Misogi looks kind of naked without a name, so hopefully we can put her new one on soon.

The Leaves are Back!

Very Squishy Wood

Corner of Deck

Rotten Sheer Plank Removed

Peeling Off the Old Name

Nameless!

Snow!

For the first time in a couple years, Bellingham got some real snow. It started on Saturday night, built up to about eight inches, and finally turned into a persistent drizzle of frigid rain on Monday. We went down to check on the boats, and were surprised to find a layer of snow building up on the water. It's not unusual for the harbor to ice over when the air temperature drops to 20 degrees or so, but it was a balmy 35° out, and the water temperature was about 40°. I guess this snow doesn't mind being above freezing.

Although Misogi is in the boathouse, a north wind blew enough snow through the door to coat the entire top deck in a fine layer of the accursed white stuff. This is rather frustrating because I had exposed some rotten wood on the back of the pilothouse, and it had been drying out for about a week. The snow got it all damp and squishy again. Mariah, unfortunately, is not in a boathouse. She got thoroughly coated in snow which is now probably leaking inside through the cracked window seals. Hopefully she'll forgive me for not brushing her off; I certainly don't want her to break the engine again out of spite.

Back at Sodhaven, we lost power for about 14 hours, and I discovered that nothing in this house functions without electricity. Not even the heating system. I'm not sure why anyone would design a house that could not be heated without electricity, but clearly Sodhaven's architect didn't think it would be a problem. I'm really looking forward to living on Misogi and not relying on the City's electrical grid for power.

Snow is Sticking-  In the Water!

 Mariah

Sodhaven's Front Yard 

Cool find

While working on Misogi in the boat house we noticed this large undulating critter swimming under the boat. It was about six inches long and mesmerizing as it swam

The Project Begins

   After a horrible 2-1/2 years of living on land, my family has decided to move back onto a boat. We spent a few months searching for the right boat, thinking that we learned from our mistakes on the Patriot. This time, we decided that we would get a smaller, faster, fiberglass yacht that would be easier to maneuver and maintain. Well, things usually don't go as planned, and we bought another big, mostly-rotten, 40 year old wooden trawler; the Misogi.

      In order to restore our old rot-bucket to water-tight condition, we decided to move her into a boathouse. The boathouse was advertised as being 18 feet wide and 20-something feet tall, and Misogi has a beam of about 17 feet, so we were about 70% sure that we would fit. We didn't. The boathouse had a few beams and appendages in awkward places, and we got stuck. Luckily, my dad had his sawzall along, and he cut enough off of the Misogi's top deck that we were able to squeeze in. 

     We have now started the process of restoring the boat. This involves cutting out the rotten bits, soaking all of the surrounding wood in epoxy, and screwing new pieces of wood into the holes where the rotten wood used to be. In theory, it sounds quite easy, but in practice it is very demanding and time-consuming work that involves all kinds of annoying geometry. My dad hired a shipwright to repair the really curvy bits, but there is still plenty of work for us to do. Here's some pictures of the move and the start of Misogi's restoration:

Driving to Bellingham; Lummi ahead.

Stuck in boathouse door.

Rot damage.

More rot damage.