Lazy jack repair

When we arrived to the marina this weekend, the Vberth was dry as a bone, so my anchor locker fix is holding. That meant a day of sailing instead a day of repairs.

The bay wasn't wild enough to be scary, but it was choppy enough to keep us on our toes. I only managed to snap a couple photos with the iPhone while we were out because it was just too rocky to bring up the expensive cameras.

However, no amount of rocking and rolling could deter Tex from napping. He'd get rolled off the cushions and then just climb back on top of them and flop down again.

At some point during the ride, the wind whipped around the lazy jacks enough that they came loose, so I actually paid some attention to them -- or what was left of them -- while cinching them back up.

The U-bolts that held the line in place towards the end of the boom had chafed  the line through on both sides. I dug through our storage bins and found more line of the same size. We don't really use the lazy jacks, but since it was easier to tape one line to the other and work it through the system than it was to climb the mast and remove the dangling blocks, I replaced the line.

For the most part it was smooth operation, but I was a little ticked that the U-bolt tore up the new line a but before I even finished getting it into place.

Despite the nick in the new line, it's now working properly. Dixie Belle kept a strict watch through the entire process.

Another job done -- that I wasn't planning to do.

And afterwards I was rewarded with a steak so fat it was actually too heavy for the neighbor's grill. The arm collapsed halfway through the grilling process, and he barely saved them from ending up in the water!

Lessons learned: Don't bother with lazy jacks, and don't overload cantilevered grills.

I've got gas

Diesel, that is. I mean, we've always had it, we just had no idea how much.

When we purchased Gimme Shelter, the fuel gauge showed 3/4 of a tank. After a trip to Galveston, it still showed 3/4 of a tank. We'd add five gallons of diesel, 3/4 of a tank. 

I finally crawled down in the lazarette and ground the positive cable on the fuel level sender. Hey, guess what? The fuel gauge moved. I immediately put a new fuel level sender unit on my Christmas list.

Thanks to my parents, one showed up in my stocking, and we finally set aside a work weekend.

Swapping a sending unit is a piece of cake. It's five screws and two wires. The hard part is getting to the tank. Luckily our rusted out hot water heater had been removed before we bought the boat creating easy access, which I don't think the previous owner ever had.

The old sender had some serious nastiness on the float, and it was almost too swollen to get it out of the tank.

When we turned the key, the gauge no longer showed 3/4 full. In fact, it showed less than 1/4. We then poured in a few gallons of diesel out of a jerry can just to make sure it would move. We turned the key back on, and sure enough ...

It felt good to tick a repair off our list. 

But then I took apart the refrigerator lid. It was rotting and growing fuzzy mold. I decided there was no salvaging it, so I had to bring it home to measure and build a new one this week.  There was just no way we could put something that was already molding back into the boat.  

We also thought we had found a newer more modern mid-ship hatch at the Boater's Resale shop, but after measuring about six times we decided it was just a little too small for the cutout, so we resolved ourselves to ordering more acrylic and Dow Corning 791 to attempt lens replacement for the third time and finally stop our leaking. After repairing the hatch twice already and still having leaks, I just can't take any chances that this time will not fix it.  

Then we tried to talk ourselves into buying a 16,500 BTU marine air conditioner, but after even more measuring and calculations, we decided that a unit that big pulling 20 amps might trip the breakers in Gimme Shelter if we were running the AC and any other electric device at the same time.  Not to mention that it wouldn't fit anywhere except in the closet. Even though our closet is not usable right now anyway, I had hoped to use it in the future. Especially when we have so much room under the settees.  

THEN I took the alcohol stove apart to survey the galley and decide if we really wanted to install the propane oven or not. There's enough space, but still no decision on whether it's worth it.  I'm so scared to cut up my kitchen! 

The to-do list and opportunities to spend money never end. However, as my dog was standing on my chest insisting on going outside at 4:30 a.m., I stepped outside and was reminded why we mess around with boats.  

Welcome 2014

I woke up January 1, 2014 in the same clothes I had been wearing in 2013. My head was pounding, and I decided that meant our New Year's Eve celebration was a success.

I did my best to quietly tiptoe past the others sleeping in Gimme Shelter -- at least as quietly as one can be in a small boat with two dogs that are extremely excited about taking their first walk of 2014.

Our celebration hadn't been anything fancy. We just hung out on Pier 7 of Watergate Yachting Center with our neighbors on the Tina Marie and our new next-door neighbor with a Beneteau 39. We rang in the new year with two guitars, bongos, a tambourine and some magical vocal harmonies followed by a champagne toast.

Oh yeah, and the fireworks ...

Although they went off at 10 p.m. (I guess Tillman Fertitta celebrates on Greenland time?) we watched the Kemah Boardwalk fireworks exploding over Clear Lake Shores. It wasn't quite as magical as when we anchor out to watch them, but we did have an excellent view from our pier, and since we weren't bobbing around I could actually set up a tripod and catch some long exposures.

I was reflecting on 2013 as I walked the dogs around the marina. It was an exciting year. Our voyage to Offats Bayou aboard the Seahorse in March was the first trip we'd taken past Redfish Island and by the end of April we'd sold the Seahorse and bought Gimme Shelter. We also made our first trips to Double Bayou and Haborwalk. We re-plumbed toilets, we faced storms, we ran into submerged objects. It was exciting stuff.

Christmas brought Mary a new inflatable PFD with a built in harness, so that she can't pull a Natalie Woods on me. Santa also brought me a new electric screwdriver to replace the one I lost overboard, and a fuel level sender, so we'll actually know how much diesel we have in the tank. That will be the first project of 2014 -- quickly followed by the replacement of the  refrigerator lid, which seems to have rotted out and fallen off after it iced up and frozen shut back in November.

Of course, the boat repair list for 2014 will be just as long as it was in 2013 as we're going to need a bottom job this spring, and we're definitely installing air conditioning this year. At some point I also have to suck it up and climb the mast to fix the anchor light. 

Although 2013 was exciting, there were still a few resolutions that I never accomplished. My resolution for both 2012 and 2013 was to learn to use a spinnaker. I just never had enough crew and the right weather conditions to make it happen on the Seahorse, and Gimme Shelter doesn't have a spinnaker. However, we're kicking off 2014 in a big way by reporting for duty on Saturday as crew for the Antares for the first race of the Icicle Series. It will be our first time racing, so we hope to learn some new tips and tricks that will make sailing Gimme Shelter easier. Maybe we'll even get to fly a spinnaker.

One of those days

We had a busy weekend planned.

I wanted to get the leaking hatch fixed correctly, get Gimme Shelter moved over to her new berth at Watergate Yacht Center, have a huge barbecue with friends at the new marina, and most importantly, do some sailing.

I got there early Friday with a new hatch lens cut from the correct 1/2" acrylic and a tube full of Dow Corning 791.

I quickly had the 1/4" lens popped out and spent at least a half hour scraping and cleaning silicone off the metal frame. Then I carefully taped everything up again, opened up my new tube of sealant and fit the new lens in place. Perfection -- or so I thought.

After having my previous lens pop out on me when I began installed the latches, I decided to walk away from this one and let it sit overnight before I touched it. I went to bed patting myself on the back.

Then Saturday morning I got up and tried to install the weather stripping.

Oops. The weatherstripping was supposed to go on the inside lip of the frame with the lens sitting on top of it. With the lens glued in, there was no way to attach it.

I thought, that's ok, there's no way this thing is leaking anyway. I'll save the weatherstripping for next time.

Then I tried to install the latches with their fresh rubber O-rings.

I screwed them in. They cinched up on the acrylic and sealed well.

Then I tried to shut the hatch.

The latches were too far forward.

I traced this lens off the old lens, and the holes for the latches were too far forward!

I ever so gently forced the hatch shut by shouting an expletive and stomping on it.

After wasting $30 the first time around, I've spent another $50 and my hatch still isn't right.

I'm guessing the lens I replaced was not the original and the person who replaced it put the latches too far forward, which is why it was cracked at the latches in the first place. They need to be moved a full 1/4" back!

What's the old phrase, measure twice, cut once? Guess I should have double checked everything.

On the upside, the new lens looks great and doesn't leak at all. I think we're just not going to attempt to open it ever again.

Going cheap and getting burned

I always get on to Mary about planning and taking logical steps -- not jumping into purchases before we have measurements, not sending out wedding invitations before we have a set date and location -- that kind of thing.

When we bought Gimme Shelter, the mid-ship Bomar hatch had a cracked lens and was leaking. It's been on the never-ending to-do list but didn't take priority until I ended up sleeping under the hatch in the rain and realized just how badly it was leaking. That's about the same time we realized the leak was also seeping into the headliner and warping it. It was time to move it to the top of the list.

I DID take measurements before I started. Unfortunately I only measured the length and width of the hatch, not the thickness of the acrylic lens.

Honestly, I was a little excited when I started this project because I thought, hey, this is going to be cheap because I can just use stuff from Home Depot instead of having to buy ridiculously priced boat parts to fix this.

Off I went to Home Depot and grabbed the only smoked acrylic they had in stock, which was only $25. I scored it and snapped it to the size we needed and then proceeded to cut the old lens free, so I could trace and cut the rounded corners. Everything was going to plan.

Once I removed the old lens, I immediately noticed it was much thicker than I had estimated. I weighed the pros and cons of replacing it with a thinner lens and decided that while the thinner one may crack sooner, if it lasts a year, it was worth it and we'd have the leak stopped, so let's just be cheap and progress with the project.

The first setback came when my dremel tool died after rounding just two corners. It was a really hot day and the tool was even hotter, so it wouldn't charge when I set it on the charger. I could have gone and bought a new corded dremel, but I was being cheap and didn't really want to have to go buy new tools for this project.

I got impatient and grabbed the jig saw. I was rounding the last corner when a big chunk snapped out of the plexi. Time to start over.

I carefully measured and scored another piece. Unfortunately, the snapping didn't go so well.

I was down to the last portion of my sheet large enough to make a new hatch. I decided scoring and snapping this one was too risky, so I began cutting it with the somewhat charged dremel. It died again. I let it charge another half hour and then got another five minutes out of it. After suffering in the heat all afternoon my neighbor loaned me his corded dremel and within 10 minutes I finally had a correctly cut sheet of plexi. Why didn't I just save myself a ton of frustration and go buy a new dremel in the first place?

Once the lens was cut, I rummaged through the toolbox and grabbed a very old tube of silicone, unplugged it with a drill bit and used that to seat the lens. Why did I use old silicone?

The next morning I stopped by West Marine to see what kind of UV protected silicone they had for the outer bead. The cheapest stuff was $16, so I went back to Home Depot and grabbed some indoor/outdoor waterproof window silicone for $3. The cheap disease had me in a death grip at this point. I was going to get this lens replaced for less than $30 and then brag about it over beers for at least the next two weekends!

Mary took time to mask off the lens, so our outer silicone bead would look nice.

I then went to town with the white silicone around the edges and did my best to get it into a nice smooth bead. It didn't look half bad.

One last job remained -- screwing the hatch dogs back onto the lens.

One problem -- the lens was too thin to snug the dogs up.

(As an aside, Bomar has a horrible latch design. These sort of mushroom shaped stoppers stick down through the hatch on a very small O-ring and then the handle screws onto them. Then the entire piece turns. It's like a third grader engineered it. In fact I called their customer service department to ask if they had an updated design because cinching down an O-ring when you still need it loose enough to turn is never going to be a great seal. The Bomar lady on the phone got pretty defensive and said if the O-rings on a hatch that was 31 years old were leaking, that certainly couldn't be considered a design flaw and I just need to do proper maintenance. I'm just going to say that the dogs on the Lewmar port on my Starwind sealed on the outside and only turned internally, so there was no chance of a leak ever. They could also be tightened or loosened. In other words, Lewmar actually engineered a real solution, they didn't just poke a stick through the hatch lens and call it good.)

We'd spent Sunday morning cruising through other marinas in our friends dinghy and showing off the pool of the new place, so at this point it was late Sunday afternoon. Once again it was super hot, and we were starting to get pressured for time.

I made a run to West Marine for large washers that I could shim the latches with. Now they DEFINITELY weren't going to be water proof, but maybe I could at least get them tight enough to lock the boat.

I think it was during my second attempt to install the latches that the unthinkable suddenly happened. I tipped up the latch for a better angle, and the lens fell out of the frame.

Yes, the super old silicone from my toolbox that I'd applied the previous day completely failed to hold the lens in the frame. I managed to grab it before it fell completely out and got white silicone on everything, but the damage was done. It was at this point I began cursing, and I'm not sure poor little Tex will ever be the same after hearing the things I said to the boat.

I calmed down, I gummed the lens back down in the frame and squished the white silicone back into place -- destroying the nice bead -- and I left.

Mary wanted to tarp up the boat in case it rained, but I just didn't care. I wanted to go home. I was tired of that hatch. I was tired of plexiglass. I was tired of silicone that didn't cure. I was tired of the horrible latches that only fit one particular thickness of plexiglass. And above all, I was super mad that I had been so cheap and muddled through this project instead of being patient and buying the correct tools and supplies for the job.

This morning I ordered a sheet of 1/4" acrylic for $36 and a tube of black Dow Corning 791 for $15. I'm also going to go pick up a new corded Dremel for $50.

Instead of telling stories about how I replaced my window for only $30, I'll repeat my cautionary tale about how I once went cheap, ruining an entire weekend, just to end up spending all the money I should have in the first place.

How do you prioritize your repairs and upgrades?

Something is always broken. Our list of repairs and improvements for Gimme Shelter is about two pages long.

Of course, some things jump to the front of list -- like a ripped sail or dead batteries -- while others never seem to get resolved.

I've got a propane oven I'm planning to install, but I need to spent about $100 on a shut-off solenoid, and I just haven't brought myself to order the part since it's 99 degrees outside and the thought of making the boat any hotter by turning on an oven seems ridiculous. However, I walked into West Marine and dropped almost $75 on a portable 12 v fan. 

Could we have lived without that fan purchase? Yes, but it just seemed to make more sense than the propane valve.

We also have a missing hot water heater. It would take $250 and maybe an hour to get a new one fitted, and we'd once again have warm showers. But who wants a warm shower when you're already sweating in a boat. So that project has also hit the back burner.

We had been conveniently ignoring the cracked deck hatch since we bought the boat six months ago. Then we finally had some Texas style rain.

I awoke to the feeling of water sprinkling on my leg, and I immediately jumped up thinking one of the dogs had decided to pee on me.

I don't know why I thought this since neither dog has ever peed on the boat. The dogs obviously didn't know why I thought this either since they both groggily raised their heads as they tried to figure out why I had jumped out of bed.

Then I saw it.

 The rain was coming right through the crack in the hatch and dripping right onto the bed where my leg had been.

I grabbed a trash can and managed to lodge it between the bed and the table where it would catch the drip and went back to sleep. In the morning I had collected almost three inches of water in the can.

Looks like putting new plexiglass in the leaky hatch just got to the top of the list.

Our first night anchored out

(Preface: I would have preferred to call this post, "Sleeping through the Storm." My title has alliteration. Didn't they teach you that in school? Actually I think that's more of a consonance/sibilance thing, and it wasn't really a "storm." Also, you were the only one who got to sleep.)

Since the day we moved Gimme Shelter to Marina Del Sol, we've been anxiously waiting for our first chance to take a trip. I mean, isn't that the point?  Weather and maintenance had kept us at the dock except for one short afternoon sail. Last weekend we had grandiose plans of meeting friends at Double Bayou but there was too much rain, not enough water in the marina, and their raw water impeller disintegrated, so nobody went anywhere. Finally, this weekend we had a perfect forecast with lots of sun and a steady south wind of around 10 knots all weekend long. We really could not have asked for a better forecast.  All week long I was excited to get away.  

The south wind is important because a north wind blows all the water out of our marina, so if you leave with a south wind and return with a north wind, there's always the nagging question as to whether or not you can get back into the marina or if you'll be trapped in Clear Lake for hours or sometimes even days until the tides and wind turn around.

We were planning to get to the boat Friday evening and then sail away early Saturday morning. Then I got the call Thursday asking if I'd shoot some photos for an MMA fight poster Saturday morning. This was a huge bummer to me as I get off work every Friday at noon, so I had to wait an extra 24 hours to hit the road.  This is the hardest thing to do when you've been waiting all week and you're anticipating a long trip. I figured it would only be a slight delay, and I'm not one to turn down work when we have a very long list of upgrades and repairs to be made to Gimme Shelter. We lost a few hours of sailing time while I tried to make these guys look scary, yet pretty. If you're in Houston, they're fighting in July, so make sure and check it out.

Saturday afternoon we left Dixie and Tex at the house. I was envisioning a nice calm night alone with no dogs crowding the bed or waking us up at 6:30 a.m. wanting to go for a walk. It was such a nice dream, even if it didn't come true.

Traffic was a nightmare, so it was already 2 p.m. before we got to the boat. We spent an hour or so prepping the boat, and we were ready to go -- except we had no food.

We made a dash to the grocery store to find something for dinner and for breakfast. We had to stick with things that required no cooking because I have not yet installed the oven, and we hadn't bought any alcohol for the Origo stove. It was going to be a sandwich and cereal weekend, which was totally fine because at least we were sailing.  We thought sandwiches and cereal were going to be cheaper, but it still turned out to be around $50 regardless, and we hadn't even bought any booze. We did end up buying way more food than we needed though, but I guess its better to have extra than not enough.  

It was already 4 p.m. by the time we shoved off, which limited the potential anchorages we could reach before dark to Redfish Island. By this point both Mary and myself were already a little tired and cranky from rushing around all day.

Redfish Island is southeast of Kemah, and with a southeast wind we were having to close haul Gimme Shelter and make long tacks across the bay to gain any ground. Mary is not a fan of the heeling that comes with sailing into the wind. I really wasn't pushing the boat as she claims, and I don't think we were really heeling THAT much, but she was pretty unhappy with me most of the trip there.  This is why I dream of someday owning a catamaran.  

Eventually the freedom of being on the water soothed away the grouchiness, and we were looking forward to a nice sunset as we dropped sail and motored into Redfish Island.

I couldn't wait to paddle over to the island and catch a few photographs of Gimme Shelter looking pristine at anchor and then sip a rum and coke as we watched the sunset from the cockpit. Alas, neither of these things were to be.

The anchorage at Redfish is very shallow. We had previously anchored the Seahorse at the north end of the island and had to move in the middle of the night when our keel started slamming into the bottom. We made sure to anchor at the south end and out as deep as possible in hopes of not repeating that mistake, but even in the deep area, we only had around two feet of water under the keel.  We maybe could have anchored a little closer to the island, and therefore have avoided some of the waves, but there were three other boats there, and we wanted to play it safe. 

I usually go forward to drop the anchor, but Mary wanted a turn at it. I never know exactly when to flip the boat into reverse, and can't see where the anchor line is, and I'm always scared I'm going to run over it.  I figured, how hard could just dropping it be?  We constantly have to rework the way we do things to figure out how to best work together.  She did great, and we had it set on the first try. Gimme Shelter came with a small plow anchor, 20' of chain, and 100' of line. We made sure we had even more than a 7:1 ratio of line out because the wind was blowing quite hard when we got there. Weather Underground was claiming it was only 10 knots, but it was hard enough that it really wasn't comfortable sitting in the cockpit, and I definitely wasn't taking the kayak anywhere because I wasn't sure I could paddle hard enough to get back to the boat.

We retreated into the cabin and opened the windows, which turned the interior of the boat into a virtual wind tunnel. On one hand, it wasn't hot. On the other hand, it was kind of like sitting in a tornado.

Meanwhile, there was no sunset. The cloud cover was so thick that it just kind of got dark. We had three other sailboats around us. This one was anchored to the north of us and served as my reference point as to whether or not our anchor was dragging all night long.

This guy was to the south of us when we got there, but by 3 a.m. he had drug all the way to the north end of the anchorage past our other neighbor. 

How you sleep through dragging that far, I don't know -- maybe it just takes enough drinking before bed -- but I'm guessing their keel started pounding the mud, and that is what finally woke them up to re-anchor. Of course, when they re-anchored they were kind enough to shine a  high-powered spotlight on our boat over and over again while they found their new location. This did make me think that one of these flashlights should be a safety requirement for our boat.  I couldn't decide if they thought we were dragging as well and were trying to wake us up or if they were really having that much trouble seeing us in the anchorage. Either way, they won the most irritating boat award for the weekend.

Once we had anchored and realized that the water was quite choppy and that it was a wind tunnel inside the boat, it did cross my mind to just pull up anchor and sail home.  I'm glad you did not voice this opinion out loud. Although it might have led to us actually getting some sleep, it would not have been in the spirit of adventure. Unfortunately, it was already dark, and it's a 1.5 hour trip downwind back to the marina. I decided I was being silly and was confident the wind would eventually die down.

After sandwiches we enjoyed a little wine and some friendly competition at the Scrabble board.  Mary won.

After Scrabble, it was time for bed. At this point we'd probably been anchored for two or three hours and every 15 minutes I'd worriedly gone outside to check our location and to make sure the anchor rode wasn't rubbing on anything as we bounced around. You'd think I would have had some confidence at this point, but the wind was continuing to get stronger and stronger, and every time a ship went by the island, we would get bounced uncontrollably by the wake.  It felt like we were sleeping inside of a bronco.  At some point you stop worrying about the boat getting damaged, and start just worrying about yourself.  I would lay in bed as long as possible trying not to think about dragging into the boat downwind of us or breaking free of our anchor and landing on the rocks for as long as possible, but then I'd have to get up and go check our location and take a look at the rope. I must have gotten up at least every half hour all night long -- that's how I was able to watch our neighbor drag across the anchorage.

Around 3:30 a.m. the wind did finally calm down to what I would guess was around 10 knots. The shipping traffic had slowed down quite a bit as well, so we weren't being tossed up and down every few minutes. After that anchor check I was able to stay asleep until around 6 a.m. when the wind started picking up again. I got up one more time and once again having confirmed that we were not about to die on the rocks, I slept for another couple of hours.

At 8:30 a.m. the wind was roaring again, and I made Mary get up. Not cool. I am the windlass -- our anchor is full manual arm power, and I was starting to seriously question whether or not I could pull it up in the wind. It was definitely going to be a two-person job with some motoring forward required to get slack in the line.

Pulling in the rope went ok. After a few discussions and the invention of some hand signals for when to pull forward and which way to turn, I had made it to the chain.  It's amazing to me how quickly we solve problems together at this point. Things that would have been huge arguments when we started sailing are quickly solved. That's when things got tough. I wasn't able to let go with one hand anymore to give signals, and after I was able to retrieve just a few feet of chain, we swung around, and I couldn't hold on. I tied off the line and took a break. Once the boat straightened out, Mary shifted into forward, and I started pulling again. I felt the anchor finally come free of the mud, and the rest of the chain came right up.

One thing I have not figured out yet is how to pull in the anchor without coating myself in the nasty mud that covers the bottom of Galveston Bay.

We were soon on a broad reach sailing very quickly back to Kemah. You know it's windy when your cereal keeps blowing out of your bowl.

Despite the somewhat grouchy sail to Redfish and the miserable night, spirits were high on the way home because we'd completed another adventure, pushed ourselves beyond our comfort zone, and learned new things about the boat.  Every trip is a little easier!  

One lesson learned -- our autopilot is not to be trusted. The belt was slipping and twice when faced with high winds it just decided to completely quit steering. It's now on my list of things to work through and adjust, so that hopefully it will last us another year or two, but it's another system on the to-be-replaced list.

Another lesson learned -- our anchor can be trusted. Redfish was a great testing ground to see if we would drag, and despite getting beat and bounced so hard that our bathroom door hinge ripped out of the bulkhead, we did not drag at all.

The most important lesson learned -- teamwork makes for success. When it came to everything from packing for the trip to pulling up the anchor, clear communication and teamwork were required to accomplish the tasks.  When we first started sailing, it became very clear to us that we would have to stay calm in high stress situations and keep talking to each other. We learn more and more that telling the other person what is going on is really the key to resolving issues. It's often easy to forget that the person at the helm can't see all the things that you are seeing from the bow. We accidentally ran into a regatta on the way home and quickly needed to get out of the way.

The autopilot wasn't cooperating, and we had a tangled line. If Mary and I hadn't been working together, I'm not sure I would have been able to roll in the jib and get over to the channel in time. It wasn't just then either.  The lines on the new boat are considerably harder to pull, and the sails are much stronger. It really helps to have Fred tail me when he can. I'm lucky to have such a great sailing partner.  :)

After anchoring overnight at Redfish Island twice and having miserable nights both times, I think I'm cured of ever wanting to stay there again. The anchorage just isn't deep enough and doesn't give sufficient protection from the wakes coming out of the ship channel. However, Memorial Day is coming, and we plan to head east with our friends on the Tina Marie to explore Double Bayou in Trinity Bay. Yay! New ground with great friends. Can't ask for more.  

Under the weather

We didn't get much of anything done on the boat last weekend. Friday it was pouring rain, so I made a trip to the vet with Dixie and Tex for their annual exams and vaccinations. I can rest easy for another year without worrying one of them will go rabid and rip my neck open while I'm sleeping -- probably.

Friday night we decided to try an art class with some of Mary's friends.

The subject matter of the painting was a little dull, but thankfully the class was BYOW and after a few glasses I really hit my stride and added Tex to the painting. I would have added Dixie as well, but I was out of brown paint.

It was still pouring rain when we went to bed Friday night, and the forecast claimed it was going to continue into Saturday, which was why Mary got stuck sitting through two-hour meeting of the Texas Photographic Collectors Association (TPCA) with me. One of the guys did a presentation on the history of Kodak Bantam cameras and 828 film. I could tell she was bored out of her mind, but she was a good sport.

It was almost 2 p.m. before we made it to the marina, and the weatherman had obviously lied. It had not continued to rain, and there was not a cloud in the sky. We could have left early Saturday morning and been anchored out overnight if we'd planned correctly.

I usually rely on the Weather Underground app when I'm looking for a reliable forecast. I used to check three or four places until I realized that most apps -- including Sea Tow and Yahoo! Weather -- are just pulling their forecast data from Weather Underground.

I still use the Sea Tow app for it's tide data. Unfortunately, I've never found the perfect weather app that puts the forecast, wind speeds, radar and tides all together in one nice package.

This weekend we once again relied on Weather Underground, and while their forecast of no rain held up, their forecast of wind speed did not. We expected 10 knot winds all night and got beat up with gusting 30 knot winds.

What's the most reliable weather source for sailing?

Girly Stuff

Spending most of our weekends on the boat makes it easy to buy weekend clothes. When we go shopping we both have a huge weakness for anything with a nautical theme. Every spring stores bring out their anchor t-shirts and blue and white striped shirts.  

When I redid my bedroom before buying Gimme Shelter, I decided to go with a nautical theme. I started with these blue striped sheets from Ikea for around $150. 

I added these map pillows and some vintage sailboat paintings.

When we got the new boat, I moved both of these things down to the boat. When it comes to boat interiors, I like to keep things simple. Yes, nautical is good, but I have to admit the one thing I hate is seeing sailboat prints on a sailboat. I mean you already have a sailboat, do you really need pictures of more sailboats on your curtains? Some people may find it appropriate, but I think it looks so tacky. I try to stick to plain colors or simple stripes. Being in marketing, Fred also loves to put our logo on things. I'm really surprised custom Gimme Shelter coffee mugs have not appeared yet.  

I have an awful addiction to blue stripes. I have blue striped Sperry boat shoes, and a blue striped anchor jacket I got this spring from Tommy Hilfiger. Every year I buy a blue and white striped swimsuit for the summer that is a little more expensive than any other swimsuit I would usually buy. Last year I got a soft simple one from POLO for about $180. This year I did a little better with Sperry at around $150. I went with this suit, but they had a cute one piece as well. You can't see very well but there are some blue sequins on the blue stripes. I always go with tie straps as they look good on almost everyone.

  

Tommy has been my favorite place to get my nautical themed clothes lately, but there is always a good selection at Banana Republic and Polo as well. For men's clothes you can also find some nice stuff at Nautica, but they have a pretty poor selection for women. As far as getting cheaper throw-away pieces, I just always keep my eyes open.  

This is a purse I was very lucky to find at Ross for only $20. I have a smaller hand purse and a clutch that match exactly as well that I found at the Tommy outlet store earlier this year.

   

One last thing I absolutely can't go to the boat without is my sunglasses. I have a rule to never spend more than $20 on sunglasses. I just cannot be careful enough with them. But because of how little I spend I have so many pair I can find them wherever I go. It probably drives Fred crazy. However, when you wake up to the shining sun after a good night that might have included a few too many beers, the most important thing in the world to you is some good sunglasses. My favorite place to find sunglasses is in second hand stores, vintage stores, or thrift stores. You can find sunglasses that are a little different and fun sometimes. I have one specific shop that always has "designer" glasses I really like. I don't know know if they're real or not but they have proven to be very durable, and I love the way they look.

  

Ummm, yeah, so I buy a new shirt about once a year if I have too many holes in the old one ...

Poop hose

Just when I thought summer was here, another cold front came through. The north wind blew all week and did two things, it tore apart our ratty bimini that we had left up, and it blew all the water out of the marina. Everyone was trapped at the docks, so with no sailing to be done, we tackled the first project on our list.

I don't know if the hoses in the head were originals, but it is quite possible. Hoses that had started their service a pristine white had turned brown, were very sticky to the touch, and stank worse than one of Dixie's farts.

Just opening the closet or an access panels to the bilge released the stench, and it was causing a problem because we couldn't actually store anything in the closet or under the V berth for fear that our sheets and towels would forever be permeated with that odor.  I ended up hanging all my "just-in-case" sweaters up on hooks all around our bed.  The hanging closet was one of the big selling points for this boat, and to me it was a priority to get it working.  Not to mention that we have only been using a small percentage of our storage on the boat because of the general smell and dirtiness.   

We opened all the ports, tore apart the bed, and got started. The clutter of having things apart is always a pain for us, but Dixie didn't seem to mind having extra pillows and blankets for her afternoon nap.

I thought I'd be smart with the entire project to minimize any spillage of refuse. We had pumped out the holding tank, so it was already "empty," but I knew from experience when replacing hoses and the head in the Seahorse that there was always something in the lines. I thought I was quite clever when I put a siphon into the toilet and sucked out all the standing water in that line. Then I suggested we prepare plastic bags and rubber bands, so that as soon as I removed a line we could tip it up and get a bag rubber banded over the end to keep filth from dumping all over us (mostly me).

This procedure had some success with only minimum drippage as I started with the hose running from the toilet to the Y-Valve. I thought to myself, "This might not be so bad."

It was bad. I genuinely can't tell if Fred was doing that much more work that me, or if he was just being a baby. 

I yanked the next hose which ran from the Y-Valve to the top of the tank, and the brittle plastic of the aged valve snapped right off. I suddenly had pee water running out on me from that hose and from the line that ran from the Y-valve to the overboard. Things only got worse from there. Every hose got harder and harder to pull -- most of them having to be cut.

Mary didn't escape the shit shower either. That's disgusting. While I was up in the V berth, she had started disconnecting the vent line and pump-out line in the closet. As I mentioned, we had avoided putting anything in the closet because it smelled horrible. Well, it's lucky we hadn't because she discovered our pump-out fixture was leaking and had dripped down the wall. Many Clorox wipes were used once those lines were removed.  Thank God I didn't have any clothes in the closet.  I don't know how I didn't notice how gross it was in there before.  My secret to avoid gagging is to just not breathe and pretend you're cleaning up something else. I had totally convinced myself I was cleaning dirt and sand out of the closet. 

Of course, the worst part was when I finally had to pull the outlet hose from the bottom of the tank. I knew there would be something in it, and I was ready to catch the mess. However, I wasn't ready for all the little petrified toilet paper balls that flooded into the bilge around my feet. This was the only time my gag reflex really got the best of me.

We took a break to clorox and vacuum out the bilge, so that theoretically the rest of our work would be completed in sanitary conditions. By the time we had all of the old hose out of the boat to begin measuring, I was not happy.  This was when the grouchiness really started come through. You know that moment in a project where everyone stops pretending to put on a good face and everyone is ready to say aloud how unhappy they are? We had reached it.

We needed 25'4" of hose. I was estimating this project at $500 because we were planning on using the black waste hose that runs about $11 per foot. I have yet to decide if it was fortunate or unfortunate that West Marine only had the white hose in stock. It was only $4.90 per foot, but if I have to do this project again in three years, I might just scuttle the boat.  You will not!

Around $250 later we returned from West Marine with new waste hose, new vent hose, a new Y-valve, a new T connector, and a few new clamps.  We really felt victorious at this point, little did we know how much work was left..

We started the vent hose first because I had to unstrap the holding tank and move it around to get to the rear vent connection. I connected the two tank connections to a T and then shoved the vent hose through a hole to Mary in the closet -- didn't reach.

We re-checked our measurements we had made off the old hoses.

We re-checked our cuts to see if there had been an error.

No errors.

It still didn't fit.

Mary made the second trip to West Marine for another three feet of hose, a coupler, and more clamps. (We later discovered a different hole in the closet that would have shortened the vent line's run, which explained why we came up so short, but at that point we had already added the extra vent line and strapped the tank back into place, so c'est la vie.)  At least it wasn't my math...

I managed to run the hose from the toilet to the new Y-valve and the hose from the Y-valve to the tank before the sun started to set and my arm strength completely gave out. I didn't know the heat gun trick until after the fact, but I will definitely never do another project like this without a heat gun to assist with sliding the hoses onto the tank, etc.

I gave myself a sink bath and stepped outside to enjoy the sunset.

It only took a moderate amount of rum before we forgot all about the lingering poo problem and were enjoying the evening with our marina friends.  I should also add that we were treated to a great prime rib dinner by the crew of the Tina Marie, which also helped alleviate the grouchiness. 

It was also one of those rare evening with low humidity that was perfect for sleeping with the windows open. We tried out our screen-covered companionway board for the first time. I love this thing so much, I wish we lived in a place where we could use it all the time.

Because we had no working facilities on the boat, and I made the mistake of drinking heavily before going to bed, I spent most of the night dreaming about waterfalls, so the dogs and I were up very early to make a walk to the bathhouse. That translated to me starting work on the hoses very early. I probably should have waited until after some coffee.

By 8 a.m. I had broken the nozzle off of the manual pump that pumps the holding tank overboard. This was disheartening because I knew it just added another $100 to the project.  I woke up to some loud profanity.

While we had cleaned the bilge after removing the hoses the previous day, when I unscrewed the broken pump and began lifting it out of the bilge, it proceeded to dump what seemed like a gallon of filthy water out all over me, and I ran with it dripping through the boat to get it out into the cockpit.

Mary went with me on our third trip to West Marine. On our way up the car we spotted this crab greedily eating another crab. It has nothing to do with the story, but I just thought it was weird.

After much searching on several different aisles of West Marine, we found an almost identical pump to the "Guzzler", and it was an open box special for $69!

The only problem was that there was a well-worn, barbed T-connection at one end of the pump, and although it seemed in re-usable condition, I could not get our hose over the flanges no matter how much dish soap I used as lube. I even tried talking dirty to it -- no luck. That's when Mary suggested the grinding attachment on the Dremel. 

I spent the next 15 minutes making a huge mess of plastic shavings and pitting and destroying the T connector. Total fail. I might have hurled the T through the boat. At this point Fred was pretty grouchy, so I let him go to West Marine by himself. I went over to the Tina Marie to enjoy some breakfast, and swap stories about male temper tantrums during projects.

I made the fourth trip to West Marine.

When I got back to the boat, Dixie greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, but Tex was nowhere to be found. Then I heard some rustling noises in the bow.

I guess curiosity got the best of him. I mean I had spent two full days hanging down into the bilge. Apparently he decided to investigate and got himself stuck in there. It was a nice moment of comedy relief until I realized he was soaked up to his armpits in the pee water that had leaked out of the broken pump. I carried him to the cockpit and called Mary back to the boat to wash him.

Thankfully the rest of the hoses cooperated and within 20 minutes I finally had everything connected and clamped. Everything in the system except the toilet, the tank, and the through-hull was new. 

It was at this moment, when I was exhausted and at my crabbiest that Mary was at her best. She gave me a hug (without even mentioning that I smelled like pee) and sent me off to have a beer while she re-cleaned the bilge. It was really my only choice. Poor Fred was noticeably frustrated and definitely done with this project. When I see him like that the easy part is when I can take over or help him out. It's much harder when there is nothing you can do.

The project still came very close to our $500 estimate because of the unexpected valves and pumps, but the boat now smells like roses. Well, actually it smells like rubber or new tires or something, but it's much more pleasant than before. I'm also now confident that after surviving that project, we can survive about anything. Well I'm sure it won't be the hardest thing we do, but the harder the project the greater the sense of accomplishment. Maybe that's what has us hooked.