| Before  | After  |
Of late, I’ve been having some wild experiences in the world of boating. It certainly isn’t all fun and glory with its many layers. The pros and cons create lists as long as my arms. I have never worked so hard, been exposed to so many cleaning chemicals, and been this bruised and tenderized in my life. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel after a long month and a half, I’m definitely looking to the fun part but I have to admit, through all the blood, bruising and sore aching muscles, I’ve had the time of my life. Some might think this strange but there is immense gratification in taking something old and tired and transforming it into something old and sparkly. Sure she has age, some that can’t be removed or rejuvenated unless you throw copious amounts of money at it, but, what we’ve been able to transform is more exciting than Elvis re-entering the building.
I must admit I wasn’t prepared for all these jobs. The romance of sailing was quickly dashed once the maintenance slapped me in the face. Boats need more work than Joan Rivers to keep them looking fine. I made a reference the other day that a boat is like finding a new lover. I’ve been over every part of her, every square inch, exploring her inside and out. She’s been elusive….she holds a lot of dark secrets in her hull, cupboards and stow away areas. Patches of mold that melt away with the mist of bleach that drip like black tears down her sides. She’s been leaking for years and with all that added moisture in places that don’t ventilate properly, well she’s been growing quite fuzzy along the insides of her belly. In some places I need to get down on my stomach and reach without actually seeing what I’m cleaning. I feel my way around with a wet rag until I rub a spot that shows black and then I reach in with my bottle and spray the hell out of the area to eat away at the black scourge. I’m beating it back one spore at a time so it stops its accent up her sides.
Last year there were distinctive hums, several combined in a noxious perfume. The head, spilled diesel fuel, mold and that lingering stench of mustiness that comes with age. I was told my boat stank, no kidding but thank-you very much for stating the obvious. You’d have to be nose blind or dead to not notice it but we didn’t have the time to tackle this big job other than what was visible like the galley cupboards and the toilet. Now you could literally eat on or lick any surface on the boat, confident that the tongue will remain pink. For my efforts I’m bruised and scratched, and probably close to an immune system overload but I’m happy beyond ecstatic and know she is too. I can see the way she sits in the water, with a sense of pride that she belongs alongside all the other shiny boats. As we motor up to her, she looks brand spanking new, the sun glints off her new paint job; the rub rail stainless that skirts along her sides reflects the sun like a mirror as if winking at us. Of course the closer you get the more you see a bit of tired but hubby tells me that in the boating world you work on the ten foot rule, she only has to pass ten foot scrutiny.
Hubby has been doing the hidden jobs of engine maintenance so that she fires up and purrs like a crotchety old cat. I witnessed and assisted an oil change a messy endeavor if you aren’t careful with the suction. Sucking out the old with a hand pump that I worked until my arms almost fell off was an experience I could have lived without. Hubby got the deck water hose working and the hot water system is now functional; no more washing dishes in cold water unless I heat it on the stove. He’s been addressing leaks and rebedding items on deck, putting on the finished teak handrails and dorade vent boxes and addressing his long list of repairs that don’t seem like much in word form but take a lot of time. I’ve never seen this many lists on the kitchen island, lists upon lists, with items in the process of being scratched off. As one list gets close to completing one list, there are two more made. So much to think about, so much to do. Every part of the boat had either a big or small thing not quite right and we are systematically attacking them all.
I’ve decided my critical eye should rest a bit. Everywhere I look there are new jobs ahead of us but I really have to relax and appreciate what we’ve done so far to enjoy myself for the rest of the summer, reap the rewards of our accomplishment and not see all that awaits us. Next year the lists will be as long as the interior is sad, the floor boards need refinishing and the cabin could use a light sanding and recoating of the varnish. Next year the scuppers need an overhaul. There are chips in the gelcoat from someone putting up the frame and cover without supporting the sharp bottoms of the metal tubing so it cut into the surface leaving damage and cause potential leaking. We used bits of carpet to protect the area, if only others had done the same! We will epoxy them all, probably 40-50 holes to repair and then repaint.
All in all I’m feeling proud to show her off and can’t wait to take friends out for a thrill of a lifetime. In her element she is magnificent. I don’t have the words to describe the feeling I have out there on the ocean, cutting through the blue with the wind and sun on my face as I give thanks for our blessings.
I must admit I wasn’t prepared for all these jobs. The romance of sailing was quickly dashed once the maintenance slapped me in the face. Boats need more work than Joan Rivers to keep them looking fine. I made a reference the other day that a boat is like finding a new lover. I’ve been over every part of her, every square inch, exploring her inside and out. She’s been elusive….she holds a lot of dark secrets in her hull, cupboards and stow away areas. Patches of mold that melt away with the mist of bleach that drip like black tears down her sides. She’s been leaking for years and with all that added moisture in places that don’t ventilate properly, well she’s been growing quite fuzzy along the insides of her belly. In some places I need to get down on my stomach and reach without actually seeing what I’m cleaning. I feel my way around with a wet rag until I rub a spot that shows black and then I reach in with my bottle and spray the hell out of the area to eat away at the black scourge. I’m beating it back one spore at a time so it stops its accent up her sides.
Last year there were distinctive hums, several combined in a noxious perfume. The head, spilled diesel fuel, mold and that lingering stench of mustiness that comes with age. I was told my boat stank, no kidding but thank-you very much for stating the obvious. You’d have to be nose blind or dead to not notice it but we didn’t have the time to tackle this big job other than what was visible like the galley cupboards and the toilet. Now you could literally eat on or lick any surface on the boat, confident that the tongue will remain pink. For my efforts I’m bruised and scratched, and probably close to an immune system overload but I’m happy beyond ecstatic and know she is too. I can see the way she sits in the water, with a sense of pride that she belongs alongside all the other shiny boats. As we motor up to her, she looks brand spanking new, the sun glints off her new paint job; the rub rail stainless that skirts along her sides reflects the sun like a mirror as if winking at us. Of course the closer you get the more you see a bit of tired but hubby tells me that in the boating world you work on the ten foot rule, she only has to pass ten foot scrutiny.
Hubby has been doing the hidden jobs of engine maintenance so that she fires up and purrs like a crotchety old cat. I witnessed and assisted an oil change a messy endeavor if you aren’t careful with the suction. Sucking out the old with a hand pump that I worked until my arms almost fell off was an experience I could have lived without. Hubby got the deck water hose working and the hot water system is now functional; no more washing dishes in cold water unless I heat it on the stove. He’s been addressing leaks and rebedding items on deck, putting on the finished teak handrails and dorade vent boxes and addressing his long list of repairs that don’t seem like much in word form but take a lot of time. I’ve never seen this many lists on the kitchen island, lists upon lists, with items in the process of being scratched off. As one list gets close to completing one list, there are two more made. So much to think about, so much to do. Every part of the boat had either a big or small thing not quite right and we are systematically attacking them all.
I’ve decided my critical eye should rest a bit. Everywhere I look there are new jobs ahead of us but I really have to relax and appreciate what we’ve done so far to enjoy myself for the rest of the summer, reap the rewards of our accomplishment and not see all that awaits us. Next year the lists will be as long as the interior is sad, the floor boards need refinishing and the cabin could use a light sanding and recoating of the varnish. Next year the scuppers need an overhaul. There are chips in the gelcoat from someone putting up the frame and cover without supporting the sharp bottoms of the metal tubing so it cut into the surface leaving damage and cause potential leaking. We used bits of carpet to protect the area, if only others had done the same! We will epoxy them all, probably 40-50 holes to repair and then repaint.
All in all I’m feeling proud to show her off and can’t wait to take friends out for a thrill of a lifetime. In her element she is magnificent. I don’t have the words to describe the feeling I have out there on the ocean, cutting through the blue with the wind and sun on my face as I give thanks for our blessings.
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