In case you missed it, when we moved into commuter cruising full time, we began concentrating our energies on the story of that cruise with our blog ‘Til the butter melts”.
I’ve noted – with some surprise – that in the last week four new folks have followed this blog.
Surprise because I haven’t written anything fresh since the end of January, and because my last post spoke of the effective demise of Renaissance and a complete course change for us.
But I also hinted at the next steps for us, so I figured, “Why not?” Why not write a little about this new path to the old goal?
We closed on our “new” boat on March 16th, and the first task was to look over the survey and the requirements of the insurance company and decide what work we needed to do.
If you haven’t owned a boat, or insured one, you might think it would be like owning a car. Fix it when it breaks down, and insure it by making a phone call. But boats are different.
Our insurance policy was issued based on the pre-purchase survey – a pretty common method. And listed work we MUST complete in order to have the boat insured for use. This is called a “Port Risk Policy”, or PRO. We are insured, but the boat cannot be operated, cannot be moved, can’t even be launched without specific permission from the insurance company until those items which THEY think are important have been completed. It’s an interesting list, since they marked as “critical” items which seem to be trivial (non-structural crack in the finish on the deck), and didn’t even notice things like a loose centerboard pin (a critical piece of hardware if there ever was one!) But that’s the insurance industry for you.
So my initial worklist looked like this:
- Bottom prep – lightly roughening the surface to assure that a new coat will stick, then rolling on one coat of Neptune (water-based) bottom paint.
- *Repair two deck cracks at forward corners of aft cabin (exterior surface).
- Remove, inspect and reinstall forward center-board pivot pin, patch and fair around pin.
- Reinstall bilge drain plug, boat cushions, sails, awning, etc.
- *Correct oil leak in Evolution shaft system
- *Ground fuel tank fills
- Assess and secure steering wheel shaft coupling
- *Replace hose for aft sink drain
- Install double hose clamps in two locations
- Clean and lubricate thru-hulls.
- *Remove, inspect, and reinstall 2 main chainplates to confirm good condition.
- *Repair main boom gooseneck fitting
- *Repair mizzen outhaul track
- *Replace nylon and polypropylene running rigging with Dacron.
- *Replace forward cabin-house port-light
- Install fire and CO alarms in main and aft cabins
- *Repair Charlie Noble
- Update portable fire extinguishers
All of those are now done, with the exception of the two fiberglass repair items – those are having to wait until it warms up enough to apply resin. IN the mean time, though, the true nature of boats comes out. Each item completed suggests several others that “would be a good idea” – or even MUST be done.
Like the bilge pump. Sionna has – or rather HAD – two. The manual pump (always a good idea) was installed in the last five years, and looks great. The electric pump was said to be installed, but nobody had ever actually seen it… I discovered that by kneeling next to the starboard side of the engine, and wedging my head and shoulders between the front of the engine and the water heater, I could actually reach into the bilge far enough to touch a small lump of plastic with a piece of wire on it. This I pulled out, to discover a very small, very sad electric bilge pump which might – in it’s prime – have been sufficient to de-water a canoe… …but never a 32′, 12,000 pound sailboat.
Add “replace electric bilge pump and float switch.” Plus the hoses, plus change the outlet so that the new, 2000gal/hour pump is discharging through a large enough hull fitting. And re-plumb the ice-box drain, adding a new sump for that so that the melting ice doesn’t drip into the bilge. And maybe we should also change the fan and water pump belts on the engine. And the impeller on the engine water pump. And since we’ve got the prop shaft out to replace the seals, we really should replace the flex-couplings in the drive because they’re out anyway and it’s been 10 years or more…
This is how buying a boat looks. Every time. Even when you think the boat is in “sail-away condition” – it’s not.
On the flip side, I’m told new boats are even worse, but I’ll never know. So far I think I have about 150 hours in these projects, and I’m not done yet. IF I were paying to have the work done, local shop rates are in the $75-$90/hr range, so we’d be looking at a labor charge of between $11,250 and $13,500. This is when being a handy fellow really comes in handy!
When I last wrote here, I describe the quandary of time available vs. time required, and offered that Renaissance – for all her attributes and beauty – wasn’t the boat for us and our evolving sailing dreams.
For those of you hoping for an uplifting, Disney/Hollywood end to the story, I fear I may be a bit disappointing, and yet…
We’ve found a new home for Renaissance, at least the major part of her. Through the grapevine and “Uncle Henry’s” (the Maine swap & Sell weekly), I connected with a fellow in Blue Hill Maine who’s in the final phases of building an absolutely stunning new wooden boat – check out his blog here: And one of his needs for the completion of the project is lead for the 6000# ballast.
You can see where this is going. We’ve been looking for a home for Renaissance for about 6 weeks now, and have followed a fair number of leads, but the ultimate response is always the same – it’s too much work, too much money, not worth it… Still, we feel some responsibility to her, and if we can’t see the project completed, if she must end up in the scrap heap, at least parts of her can be used to make other dreams happen, to launch other lives into adventure.
Once the snow melts and the ground hardens up enough to get a truck in here, I’ll open up the end of the boatshed and Renaissance will make her final journey – over land – before her rebirth in the keel of the Susan Elaine.
It’s not the path I’d hoped for, not the end I’d planned, but it is somehow comforting to know that when the couple building the Susan E. head south in a couple years, about a third of s/v Renaissance will sail with them.
And what of our plans and dreams? Well, I’ve seen enough of my contemporaries die or develop significant health issues in their 50’s to reinforce my “Do it sooner” mentality, so we’ve raided our retirement funds for a down payment and signed a purchase agreement for a boat that’s ready to sail now, ready to explore the Inter Coastal Waterway and Bahamas at a moment’s notice – ready to make dreams come true.
Meet Sionna, a 1963 Triangle 32, Center-cockpit ketch.
The adventure continues.
…not even to yourself.
It’s been a very frustrating couple of months. Mostly the frustration of having a job and business and also a boat to rebuild – and a dream that depends on the boat getting finished.
Or does it? Are the two inseparable?
That’s the question that finally presented an answer this week, and the surprising (to me) answer is that, no, our dream of cruising south for a few months – or a couple of years – is not dependent on my finishing the restoration of Renaissance. We could, in fact, find a relatively simple and inexpensive boat that’s already in the water and seaworth to carry out our dream. In fact, in the long run that would certainly be cheaper than rebuilding a 53-year-old sloop that’s seen so much neglect over the years.
But what about Renaissance? We’ve spent a few thousand dollars (a mere pittance in the boating world) to bring this boat home, build a shelter, start gathering gear, and a few hundred hours of labor stripping her down to the point where all that’s left is straight and sound, and it’s time to begin rebuilding. We’ve done the nasty part.
But I suddenly have come face to face with the reality of my life. My financial resources are pretty limited, so to restore a boat, I have to work. Work takes time – and when you’re self-employed, it sometimes takes more hours than a day contains. Rebuilding a boat also takes time. In this case, an inestimable amount of time, certainly thousands and thousands of hours.
Let’s do some math: there are 8760 hours in a year. I sleep for 8 hours a night, or I collapse into a quivering pile of uselessness, so that leaves 5840 hours.
Meals, brushing teeth and all the other things that life demands take up about 3 hours a day-we’re down to 4745.
The job needs the most – something around 9 hours, and sometimes more than 5-days-a-week, so we’ll call it 9.5 hrs in a theoretical 5-day week. We’re down to 2275.
It gets cold in Maine, and our boat shed isn’t heated – or heatable. Paint, fiberglass, varnish etc doesn’t work in the cold, so figure that the period from December 15th through April 15 is pretty much a loss. We might get something done, but chances are, we won’t. Let’s be optimistic, though, and hope that perhaps 1/3 of that time we actually WILL be able to work, or we’ll find projects that can be done in the basement, where it’s warmer.
Our total available hours to work on the boat is looking like about 374 hours a year.
But wait – what about the occasional night out? Or spending time with my lovely wife? Subtract a few more…
The cold, hard truth is that I’m not getting any younger, so I really need to be living this dream in the next 5 years if I’m going to be physically able to accomplish and enjoy it.
So here’s the rub: Assuming that there are 5000 hours of labor in the restoration (and that might be overly optimistic!), I’d need 13.4 years at my current rate of progress. Even if I could do it in 3000 (very unlikely), It’d take me 8 years.
So that was my epiphany on Tuesday – I’m not going to be nautically functional long enough to complete this restoration and still be capable of sailing the boat.
“Well”, says I, “That sucks.”
Then there’s the issue of changing goals. When my wife and I got this boat, I was pretty certain that I wanted to do some ocean crossing. At least as far as the Azores, and perhaps even a circumnavigation of the North Atlantic, maybe the Caribbean Sea…
Now, though, we’re both recognizing that we may not need to do that, we might be happy just following the East Coast and crossing into the Bahamas, maybe the Leeward and Windward Islands… We may never get around to crossing the ocean – so do we really need a boat that’s in many ways optimized for ocean passages? Might we be better off with a boat that has less draft (depth in the water) and a little more space and comfort? The Bahama’s are pretty shallow…
In other words, Renaissance might not be the right boat for us, both in terms of resources AND our cruising plans.
So Renaissance is for sale. If you’re reading this, and were thinking to yourself “Boy, I could do that, especially if someone else did all the nasty tearing apart for me…” this could be your big chance! I’ve got engines and gear and a sound hull that’s ready to start going back together, all in a classic CCA yacht of excellent pedigree. To the right craftsman, she’s ready to be reborn.
Meanwhile, we’re back to looking at used boats again. Looked at a beauty today, in fact. Let me know when you’d like to come look over Renaissance – I’ll cut you a good deal.
First off, many thanks to the folks who’ve signed up to track our progress on “Renaissance”. Perhaps you’ve been thinking we gave up? Not so!
But we have been very busy elsewhere. Both living and boat restoration require a bit of money coming in, and that’s been a bit scarce the last few months. In hopes of correcting that problem, the admiral and I have started a new business called. “Handy-Hands – home maintenance and repair”. (Check it out on Facebook or http://www.handyhandsmaine.com) We do the jobs that most folks might do themselves if they had the time, tools, skills or dexterity, but for whatever reason don’t. It’s fun, but busy!
But we have managed a little progress toward the dream! In August we attended our first gathering (called a “Gam”) of the SSCA – the Seven Seas Cruising Association. Hosted by a couple in Gilkey Harbor, Isleboro island, Maine, this gathering happens every year, and included 65 boats and 125 cruisers ranging in experience from beginner wanna-be’s like us to couples that have circled the globe more than once – and everything in between. (http://www.ssca.org)
It was – in short – a blast. I’ve seldom encountered a more welcoming, enthusiastic, warm-hearted and helpful group of people! Every conversation turned into “What are your plans and how can I help?” Just delightful!
Meanwhile we have spent only minutes at a time on the projects, but we have made a little more progress. All the deck fittings and hardware are off the starboard side, the rest of the toe-rail came off INTACT, meaning that I have a pattern for creating the new one. The pictures I’ve posted show the port side rail coming off in dust-sized pieces, so that was a relief indeed. Yesterday I finally removed the starboard winch pad – intact as well – by hacksawing the final bolt (the others loosened fine, but not that last one!) So again, I have a pattern. I can’t actually make the new pads until I find the new winches, which may have a different sized base. Anyone have a pair of 35-40 power self-tailing winches to contribute? Self-tailing is a minimum, but single or two-speed is negotiable.
So there we stand. The weather is cooling off, making working in the greenhouse more comfortable, and perhaps I’ll be able to take one day a week – or even a half day – to devote to the boat. One thing I know about myself – I need to see a little progress on this project to keep my energy up.
There is a very good reason for the seemingly slow progress we’re currently making on this job. Well actually two reasons. The first is simple finances. Boat parts cost money. Money comes from working, which takes time – time away from working on your boat projects… It’s a downward spiral if you’re not careful! The other reason is simply that we need to do some sailing on a regular basis to remind us WHY we’re going through the effort, expense and discomfort of restoring this old boat for our future plans. Last summer we took 12 days and cruised downeast from our home base in Rockland, getting as far as Northeast Harbor before we turned around to head back home. Each day was a different adventure, a quiet cove or beach or harbor. We needed that. But there has been progress! I decided early on that the cockpit sole wasn’t as stiff as it should be, so the steering pedestal had to come out in order to strengthen that area. This turned out to be a good decision again, as one bolt broke off easily during the disassembly, and the others were partially eaten away by corrosion. I can just imaging the effect on boat control in a seaway if the helmsman were to be thrown against the wheel, and the whole steering station then carried away with one of us holding on for dear life… So the pedestal is in the basement for stripping and repainting, and the cockpit is clear for eventual repairs to the laminate. Since we’re considering installing a hatch in the sole to allow for easy access to the expanded battery bank (420 amp/hr, as opposed to the original 105), this may all work in our favor. Meanwhile the process of removing anything that needs to be replaced or repaired has continued in the cabin as well. The first mate has graciously devoted a good bit of time to removing furniture from the port side – the remains of which are in the basement to serve as patterns for the eventual rebuild, and we can now see the structure of the hull inside, and begin to visualize how things will look “someday”.
The rudder has been removed, too. As you might expect, that’s quite a story in itself, but much to my surprise, it was easy digging below the stern, and I only needed to go down about 18″ to allow the 27″ rudder stock to clear the hull. It could have been much worse!
Why remove the rudder? It’s made up of mahogany planks, about 3/4″ thick, which are held together with multiple bronze nuts, and screws that range from 5″ to 15″ in length. Because the boat has been on the hard for so long, the wood has shrunk to the point that there are 1/4″ gaps between planks. That’s “normal”, in the wooden boat world, but the amount of movement of the planks now makes me wonder just how strong those old bronze screws are… More investigation – and possibly even a coating of fiberglass to encase the wood – will make me confident that this rather important bit of boat is up to it’s eventual task.
And then there’s wood! Back last fall, one of my neighbors was asked to clean out an old barn, and he found a stack of nice looking planks that looked like mahogany. He asked me if I wanted it. Um, how fast can you say “Yes!” without being unseemly?
That stack of wood turned out to be about 200 board/feet of Honduran mahogany, and “They ain’t makin’ that no more”, as the saying goes. After planing, I have wood to replace the cockpit combings (9′ x 14″), and possibly enough to replace the entire toe-rail too. Oh, did I mention it was free? And I bartered for the use of the planer…
And what about the deck-recore job? Slow and uncomfortable, but progress is being made! We’ve made it from the bow, where we found a small area of serviceable core just ahead of the couch roof, all the way along the port (left) side deck and across the stern, where we found none. Indeed, someone had clearly gone to the trouble of removing the core and re-skinning along the port side by the couch roof, but that repair hadn’t held, and was completely saturated and worthless. Out it all came, and I created a new tool for stripping out the old balsa fibers from the edges of the opening. That, and my circular saws set at a depth of 3/8″, are all the tooling required for this stage. Well, and a full-face respirator to protect eyes and lungs, and earplugs for the ears, and coveralls for the skin, and gloves for the hands…
Yeah, it’s a right nasty job.
In most refits of a boat, the existing systems aboard (water, electrical, etc) are generally inspected, repaired, upgraded etc., but usually there is a basic structure of systems that you work within.
Not so in this case. Renaissance is a 52 year old boat which has received no significant care for 8 years, and was, I suspect, the victim of a deferred maintenance “plan” for several years before that.
She also suffered at the hands of who- knows-how-many well- intentioned do- it-yourself owners, individuals who’s intentions were good, but who’s skills were, sadly, not always up to the task at hand.
Too, the industry standard for safety and security in boat building have changed over the last half-century, and practices that were considered “best” in 1962 are now looked at with considerable suspicion.
And so we are starting over. Last Fall I spent several days removing everything from the boat that related to her systems. Engine, fuel, water, electrical, bilge pumps – anything that could come out without cutting open the hull (Fuel and one water tank stayed for that reason) was removed and – basically – scraped. Some of what I found that had passed for an electrical system was, frankly, frightening. Certain tasks should be done by someone with the appropriate skill-set!
What you see in the image above, therefore, are my design drawings of the new systems that I’ll be installing in the boat once the basic hull repairs (re-coring decks and relocating the chainplates, sealing and painting, installing thru-hulls) have been accomplished. You’ll go blind trying to read those images here, but they include a 12 volt DC electrical system, including solar panels and a 430 amp hour battery bank; gray and black-water holding and handling; fresh-water collection, storage and distribution (including limited engine-heated hot water and a hand-held shower at the stern); and a salt-water manifold system to provide seawater for the galley, engine, and flushing the head.
What you won’t see is a standby generator, an AC electrical system, and pressure water throughout the boat. (having hot-water does require a small pressure water system, but it will be very limited in capacity to conserve both fresh water and power.)
Nor will there be a microwave, TV, DVD player, washer/dryer… Forget all that crap – if we wanted that level of toys, we’d stay ashore.
On the safety side, this refit will be a quantum leap forward. For instance, the entire electrical system will be protected by fuses, circuit breakers, or both. 200 amp fuses will be installed right at the battery posts to protect the entire boat from that hazard, while each individual circuit (internal and external lighting, refrigeration, navionics, bilge pump, engine starting, etc) will have it’s own breaker or fuse for protection of the wiring in that particular system.
Plumbing will also be upgraded. As it left the factory, the Alberg 35 had 11 holes through the hull below the waterline, and only 3 of these holes had a method of closing the opening (ie: a valve) in the event of a malfunction or damage. Again, that was industry practice in 1962, but it’s very foolish. Stuff happens in a boat, and keeping the sea on the outside of the hull has to be taken seriously.
This refit will reduce the number of openings from eleven to 6, and of those 6 openings, ALL will be rebuilt with bronze thru-hulls and ball valves so that they can be secured closed if necessary. Now, if a hose is damaged or accidentally pulled off the fitting in rough weather, all that is required is to close the valve. Failure of a valve, while rare, is also possible, so each valve installation will also include a soft wooden plug, taped to the valve, which can be driven into the failed valve to seal it off.
And what of water in the boat? How do you remove it?
Renaissance was built with a single hand bilge pump, located in the cockpit (but out of reach of the helmsman), which had the capacity to pump about 15 gallons a minute out of the bilge. When she relaunches in 2017 or so, she’ll have an automatic electric pump that can remove 36 gallons a minute, a manual pump that can do an additional 20 gallons a minute, and the ability to use the engine’s seawater pump to move another 10-12 gallons a minute – all independently. The manual pump will also be located in the cabin, where an off-duty crewmember can pump while sheltered from the weather.
Overkill? Possibly. But I really hate water inside a boat, unless it’s frozen and floating in rum.
And finally, a word about boat parts.
Boat parts, like car parts (only worse) are expensive. Yet there are ways to reduce the impact. One of them is taking your time, and another is looking for used. We’re fortunate here in Maine to have a marine consignment store in town, with the result that my budgeting spreadsheet is thus far showing that I’m spending about 25% of retail on perfectly functional parts – many times as good as new – every single time I go looking. That, and Craigslist, local cruisers and word-of-mouth (“Hey, I hear you’re rebuilding a boat – do you need a new anchor? You can have it if you can lift it!”)
This is fun!