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Sunday I rowed out to our boat all by myself. This was only my fourth time using oars, three of which were with hubby for practice. A few short weeks ago, being on my own, bobbing up and down like a cork in a bathtub, in charge of a large rubber dingy would have scared the crap out of me.
The hardest part was getting the Zodiac to the water's edge. That thing weighs more than I can handle so it was a drag, literally. Once in the water of course it's weightless, too bad the tide was out making the trip down the long span of shore an arduous workout.
I made it to the boat under my own power, albeit rather clumsily as I’m stronger in my left arm and would have kept going in circles if not for a lot of correcting. But it was still on my own and that’s a big gold star for me! Rowing is a synchronized art that looks easier than it is and takes time to get the rhythm. So it wasn't the most graceful attempt but I managed to reach the boat and tie off the dingy and board without mishap.
My goal was to bring home the teak cockpit floor boards and the folding table that hangs from the binnacle. They are in desperate need of refinishing; once again the badly applied Cetol needs to go. Thick orange goop and black mold doesn’t inspire me to put food on the table. I also wanted the swim ladder steps but that requires two people, one on the boat and one in the dingy so that will have to wait for a recruit.
Of course as in any job, it didn’t work out as easily as planned. The table needed a socket wrench to remove the bolts. I’ve never used one so I had to construct the sequence needed to fit the size nut and also to downsize the part already on the tool, that square thingy on the socket end. I had to fit two pieces together to get to the size I needed. Then I discovered rather quickly, after several tries to loosen the bolts that were instead tightening on further, that there is a knob to turn for a clockwise or counter clockwise removal. I figured it out and felt smugly satisfied although it would have nice to have someone witness this mastery.
I loosened the four bolts and removed the table which was heavy as heck and awkward. The topside needed a pick me up but the underside is absolutely terrible. The Cetol had dried on in massive drips all over the metal hinges and screws and the wood had little orange nipples where it hardened as it dripped. I don't mean to condemn Cetol, applied properly I'm told it can be a beautiful finish, it's just not the experience I'm having. it's like the first house hubby and I bought. The previous owners painted latex paint over the oil paint without primer. I spent weeks pulling off the soft water based paint like peeling a face mask as water and oil don't mix in liquids or paint applications.
Then I looked down at the cockpit floor grates wondering what horror awaited me there. If the dirt around the galley floor was any indication of what I might find I had to prepare myself for forensic cleaning. I tell no lie, so much food and debris had fallen through the cracks in the teak flooring that it composted into soil. I literally used a towel to shovel it up, rich, black dirt.
Of course the floor grate wouldn’t lift easily. The small piece toward the stern with the circle cut out for the binnacle base came up smoothly, but the piece in front of the companionway was a tight fit and I had to remove the wench holders to get it up. I was a struggle and I wiggled it back and forth and finally got it free. It is apparent the fit doesn’t have to be so snug. It needs to be trimmed about a ¼ of an inch on the length and another 1/4 on the sides for and easier installation when it’s refinished. “Little Miss Fix It” thinks a piece of solid white plastic can be used as a spacer so it doesn’t slide back and forth when the boat heaves and it will make it easy to lift to do quick cleans every couple of weeks without having to dismantle everything around it.
As I was lifting the grate, I was wondering what I would find. My imagination soared. Maybe a diamond ring, some pocket change, Hoffa? But only some broken glass and dirt looked up at me. Actually it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, it was mostly loose dust, dry grime and small pebbles from the shore carried on board by our feet. There were a few spots where something sticky had spilled, possibly beer or wine so there was a gooey clump but other than that it was manageable.
First I plugged the scupper holes with pieces of facecloth so all the dirt wouldn’t go down the drains and plug them and then swept up all the loose debris. Then I hit it with Spray 9, a deck brush and elbow grease. I had expected to see more Cetol spray and I was right but it was hidden and not noticeable through the grate and could be removed another time. The day was hotter than Hades and my face was as red as a lobster, with a loud, drumming heart beat playing in my head, there was only so much down on my knees, hard labour I could do without having a heat stroke. That job would have to wait for another day. I drank lots of water but sweated it out so fast I felt like a garden hose with a thousand tiny holes in it.
So I loaded all the pieces into the tender with a bit of a heave ho over the side. Not easy due to the size, weight and awkwardness of the pieces, but I managed without incident. It’s amazing how independent and strong I can be when there isn’t a man around to bail me out. That day I had the big girl panties hauled up to my chin! I hope hubby isn’t reading this.....I play a rather practiced damsel in distress when he’s around......
The pieces sprawled over two thirds of the boat including the seat, so I had to crawl down into the dingy and re-position them so I could sit to row home. At one point I couldn’t hold onto the boat as the dingy was riding the wake of all the boats buzzing by so I held the tether in my teeth to keep from drifting away. You’d think my chompers would’ve ripped out but it’s amazing how little strength is needed to keep the dingy with the boat. It’s like a gentle dance. The dingy may float away but will come back if you wait a few seconds. She generally hangs close by, riding the same wave as the boat, like a baby whale at a mother’s side. No need to panic at any time, just wait a bit.
The row to the shore was a bit rough, with four two inch long bolts digging into my thighs from the cockpit table and the largest of the floor boards hindered my reach while rowing. There was barely room to maneuver the oars and I was all over the place, going left, then right, once even back to the boat. There were a lot of people on their boats, sitting on their moorings, if anyone was watching they probably thought “what’s that crazy woman doing, is she going to shore or heading to town?” It was choppy from all the wakes, flipping the bow up and down, splashing me as it smacked the water. I applauded the wet on my face, my shirt and shorts were sweat soaked and sticking to me like a second skin and greatly appreciated the cool water. When I got to shore, I waded out up to my thighs to cool my legs hoping the rest of me would follow. It would take an hour for my face to cool down, the heartbeat in my ears to go away and return to my normal pasty pallor. It was a stinking hot day!
I’m pretty proud of myself. Doing heavy labour and gittin’r dun. Pushing my body, using muscles I don’t normal work. I’m going to have a couple of mean biceps by the time I’m finished all this refinishing and then I’ll be primed for pulling on ropes when we sail. I feel stronger and my blood sugar scores are fabulous. I’m proud that I’m doing something good for my physical self instead of wearing out the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table. I’m sleeping a heck of a lot better too!
I’ve often joked that any job that breaks a fingernail is a man’s job. I don’t have many left as they are rubbed down to nubs so there won't be much to polish for my son's wedding in a few weeks. Hubby is away at the moment and not able to help but I can’t let that stop me; I have a goal. I want all the pieces stripped and ready for him to put back on the boat when he gets home. That’s a lot of stripping, sanding, brightening, two coats of sealer and eight coats of finish with wet sanding in between. Is it all doable? I’ll do my best!
The hardest part was getting the Zodiac to the water's edge. That thing weighs more than I can handle so it was a drag, literally. Once in the water of course it's weightless, too bad the tide was out making the trip down the long span of shore an arduous workout.
I made it to the boat under my own power, albeit rather clumsily as I’m stronger in my left arm and would have kept going in circles if not for a lot of correcting. But it was still on my own and that’s a big gold star for me! Rowing is a synchronized art that looks easier than it is and takes time to get the rhythm. So it wasn't the most graceful attempt but I managed to reach the boat and tie off the dingy and board without mishap.
My goal was to bring home the teak cockpit floor boards and the folding table that hangs from the binnacle. They are in desperate need of refinishing; once again the badly applied Cetol needs to go. Thick orange goop and black mold doesn’t inspire me to put food on the table. I also wanted the swim ladder steps but that requires two people, one on the boat and one in the dingy so that will have to wait for a recruit.
Of course as in any job, it didn’t work out as easily as planned. The table needed a socket wrench to remove the bolts. I’ve never used one so I had to construct the sequence needed to fit the size nut and also to downsize the part already on the tool, that square thingy on the socket end. I had to fit two pieces together to get to the size I needed. Then I discovered rather quickly, after several tries to loosen the bolts that were instead tightening on further, that there is a knob to turn for a clockwise or counter clockwise removal. I figured it out and felt smugly satisfied although it would have nice to have someone witness this mastery.
I loosened the four bolts and removed the table which was heavy as heck and awkward. The topside needed a pick me up but the underside is absolutely terrible. The Cetol had dried on in massive drips all over the metal hinges and screws and the wood had little orange nipples where it hardened as it dripped. I don't mean to condemn Cetol, applied properly I'm told it can be a beautiful finish, it's just not the experience I'm having. it's like the first house hubby and I bought. The previous owners painted latex paint over the oil paint without primer. I spent weeks pulling off the soft water based paint like peeling a face mask as water and oil don't mix in liquids or paint applications.
Then I looked down at the cockpit floor grates wondering what horror awaited me there. If the dirt around the galley floor was any indication of what I might find I had to prepare myself for forensic cleaning. I tell no lie, so much food and debris had fallen through the cracks in the teak flooring that it composted into soil. I literally used a towel to shovel it up, rich, black dirt.
Of course the floor grate wouldn’t lift easily. The small piece toward the stern with the circle cut out for the binnacle base came up smoothly, but the piece in front of the companionway was a tight fit and I had to remove the wench holders to get it up. I was a struggle and I wiggled it back and forth and finally got it free. It is apparent the fit doesn’t have to be so snug. It needs to be trimmed about a ¼ of an inch on the length and another 1/4 on the sides for and easier installation when it’s refinished. “Little Miss Fix It” thinks a piece of solid white plastic can be used as a spacer so it doesn’t slide back and forth when the boat heaves and it will make it easy to lift to do quick cleans every couple of weeks without having to dismantle everything around it.
As I was lifting the grate, I was wondering what I would find. My imagination soared. Maybe a diamond ring, some pocket change, Hoffa? But only some broken glass and dirt looked up at me. Actually it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, it was mostly loose dust, dry grime and small pebbles from the shore carried on board by our feet. There were a few spots where something sticky had spilled, possibly beer or wine so there was a gooey clump but other than that it was manageable.
First I plugged the scupper holes with pieces of facecloth so all the dirt wouldn’t go down the drains and plug them and then swept up all the loose debris. Then I hit it with Spray 9, a deck brush and elbow grease. I had expected to see more Cetol spray and I was right but it was hidden and not noticeable through the grate and could be removed another time. The day was hotter than Hades and my face was as red as a lobster, with a loud, drumming heart beat playing in my head, there was only so much down on my knees, hard labour I could do without having a heat stroke. That job would have to wait for another day. I drank lots of water but sweated it out so fast I felt like a garden hose with a thousand tiny holes in it.
So I loaded all the pieces into the tender with a bit of a heave ho over the side. Not easy due to the size, weight and awkwardness of the pieces, but I managed without incident. It’s amazing how independent and strong I can be when there isn’t a man around to bail me out. That day I had the big girl panties hauled up to my chin! I hope hubby isn’t reading this.....I play a rather practiced damsel in distress when he’s around......
The pieces sprawled over two thirds of the boat including the seat, so I had to crawl down into the dingy and re-position them so I could sit to row home. At one point I couldn’t hold onto the boat as the dingy was riding the wake of all the boats buzzing by so I held the tether in my teeth to keep from drifting away. You’d think my chompers would’ve ripped out but it’s amazing how little strength is needed to keep the dingy with the boat. It’s like a gentle dance. The dingy may float away but will come back if you wait a few seconds. She generally hangs close by, riding the same wave as the boat, like a baby whale at a mother’s side. No need to panic at any time, just wait a bit.
The row to the shore was a bit rough, with four two inch long bolts digging into my thighs from the cockpit table and the largest of the floor boards hindered my reach while rowing. There was barely room to maneuver the oars and I was all over the place, going left, then right, once even back to the boat. There were a lot of people on their boats, sitting on their moorings, if anyone was watching they probably thought “what’s that crazy woman doing, is she going to shore or heading to town?” It was choppy from all the wakes, flipping the bow up and down, splashing me as it smacked the water. I applauded the wet on my face, my shirt and shorts were sweat soaked and sticking to me like a second skin and greatly appreciated the cool water. When I got to shore, I waded out up to my thighs to cool my legs hoping the rest of me would follow. It would take an hour for my face to cool down, the heartbeat in my ears to go away and return to my normal pasty pallor. It was a stinking hot day!
I’m pretty proud of myself. Doing heavy labour and gittin’r dun. Pushing my body, using muscles I don’t normal work. I’m going to have a couple of mean biceps by the time I’m finished all this refinishing and then I’ll be primed for pulling on ropes when we sail. I feel stronger and my blood sugar scores are fabulous. I’m proud that I’m doing something good for my physical self instead of wearing out the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table. I’m sleeping a heck of a lot better too!
I’ve often joked that any job that breaks a fingernail is a man’s job. I don’t have many left as they are rubbed down to nubs so there won't be much to polish for my son's wedding in a few weeks. Hubby is away at the moment and not able to help but I can’t let that stop me; I have a goal. I want all the pieces stripped and ready for him to put back on the boat when he gets home. That’s a lot of stripping, sanding, brightening, two coats of sealer and eight coats of finish with wet sanding in between. Is it all doable? I’ll do my best!
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I've been reading on the internet about all the different steps. Once the teak is stripped of the old varnish there is a lot of sanding and then a chemical process that brightens the wood, taking out all the black, moldy areas. If you skip this step, the black can continue to grow under the new varnish and all the hard work will have been in vain. I'm going to do all the stripping and sanding first and then do the brightening all at once and all the varnishing and in-between wet sanding last.
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