Powerless (almost)

This is the heavy-gauge extension cord not on the boat. It's powering the fridge...

A short digression on preparing for life aboard was prompted yesterday by a rather strong wind storm (gusts of 60 knots were reported at the lake, and there were perhaps some local downbursts of greater intensity. Intense enough to down large trees across the city, anyway, which led to a large number of discrete power outages.

...which is powered by the dependable Honda 2000, now easily over a decade old and showing the wear and tear of being bicycled for many winters to an otherwise electricity-free boatyard some distance away. Why? To charge batteries on Valiente I enjoyed transporting even less.

Ours started between five and six o'clock Friday; I don't know for sure as I was having a mast-moving-inspired nap, which was broken by Mrs. Alchemy's return from errands shouting "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIND?" (I suspect she thought she was still outside). Thinking better of my CanLit-inspired answer of "no, who has seen the wind?", I arose to relative silence: a house without electricity in it is, even to my comparatively aged ears, a quieter place. Save for the honking of the cars negotiating an intersection with dead traffic lights outside, of course. Plus that howling wind.

Wood that it had stood.

Sailorly habits mean we have candles and flashlights to hand and the outage was only the south side, our side, of the street; we had no particular reason to assume it would be long, so we picked up a pizza for dinner and played Settlers of Catan by candlelight. The game's vaguely medieval, so it made sense. But as the hours went by with no restoration, I started to be concerned that the food in the fridge and the chest freezer would defrost or otherwise perish. Other sailorly habits include shopping the grocery flyers, meaning we have food items bought on sale to last a few weeks, and some of which are frozen. So it was time to invoke the generator.

As seen on Kindle.

The Honda 2000 I bought many years ago has yielded stalwart service when I've needed to charge batteries or run a power tool too far from an outlet for even the ridiculous lengths of extension cord we own. This was such a time. Its output is approximately 10 amps on the AC side, with a brief allowance for surges, meaning I could safely alternate fridge and freezer (and charge my son's computer which holds his textbooks) to keep their contents sufficiently cool (the furnace, too, was off, but the house was about 19C).

Wires were gnarled, but that house was missed, luckily.

It worked a charm. I ran it about two hours last night and three hours this morning before going off to do mast work, and when I got home, power had been restored. We did something similar a few years ago after a summer thunderstorm-related outage, and it's been a good reminder that life restricted to 10 amps is more or less daily boat life in some ways, and that being conscious of what life without mains power is like is salutary to a future when sun and wind will keep the batteries, for the most part, topped up. I'd write more, but there's a hot shower to take.

Mast appeal

At what I estimate is about 220 kilos, this is always a group effort to remove from the mast rack.

As we continue to actually install things in preparation to cast off next year, there are a number of alterations, modifications and fabrications to do or to prepare to do. The mast is getting a few upgrades, for instance, including the replacement of fairly worn-out, if still functional, RG-58 VHF coax for more rugged and less signal-lossy LMR-400-UF coax; this was on the learned advice of fellow sailor Ken Goodings of S/V Silverheels III. The coax will run to a mast-top Metz antenna and also to my new Vesper AIS antenna on a separate run to our new XB-8000 AIS Class B unit. For a nice change, I'm not a total newbie at radio comms; I had a CB radio and SW receiver hobby as a teenager and that's how I learned to solder. I'm sticking with the familiar crimp and solder PL-259 connectors, which I will "skin" with heat shrink tubing at the antenna ends.

It's raining today, so Mrs. Alchemy and I will do the stays and shrouds and untangling tomorrow

So I will have to "fish" the new cable carefully and then solder in the yard. Just out of shot is a light stand with two outlets; once again, my 12 ga. "contractor grade" extension cords will earn their keep as I solder and heat shrink out of doors. In addition to those tasks, I will be tapping threaded holes for the new gimballed radar GPS mount, plus, of course, making a hole in the mast large enough (and smooth enough) to take the radome's cable. There's sufficient slots in the mast base to accommodate all these new cable runs, but it will complicate putting the stick in when that happens.

I was gratified to realize this was a near-perfect fit.

Like many local sailors, I have a few examples of the well-built Blue Performance cockpit and bulkhead storage bags aboard. They've stood the test of time (perhaps because we've kept them essentially below decks) and they are very useful for keeping various bits of equipment in place. The bag pictured above spent a few seasons (well, since it was put in) on the back of the pilothouse helm seat, but this prevented the seat from rotating 360 degrees. So it struck me yesterday that the companionway hatch might work. Did it ever. With a series of drill bits, the torquey Makita, and some cutting oil, I made two holes, tapped them and put in two 1/4" hex head 3/4" bolts in the SS "lip" behind the hinge in the companionway hatch's top flap. I like the fit and I can stow a VHF, a couple of winch handles, sunscreen and maybe a pair of binoculars to hand. Most of the time at sea, this hatch will be secured in the open position; in following seas or moderate rain, the top flap will be open. Only in heavy seas or driving rain will it be fully closed, so this small change will allow us to retrieve a small list of items without leaving the "sailing deck". Nice.

Port side, reporting! (That rust is from grinding, not deck corrosion...). The whole boat needs a good wash after winter.

Speaking of nice, the new transverse exhaust installation is, to my deep satisfaction, working properly (and the boat isn't filling up with stinky water, either). The exhaust "note" has changed slightly, which I'm guessing is a function of the reduced back pressure. I am thinking of putting in an exhaust gas temperature unit with an alarm to warn me if I'm seeing the higher exhaust gas temperatures that would suggest, indirectly and without actually peering over the side, reduced cooling water flow (or that I've sucked a plastic bag into the circuit or thrown a couple of vanes from the impeller). Such a device can also provide data about how hard the engine is working with a given prop pitch, which, having a VariProp, I can remedy in the water.  But for now, I am content with the winter's labours.

Motoring on a heel will tell me more, of course, but for that, I'll need the mast in. Watch this space.

...and the starboard exhaust is exhausting nicely, too.

Return to the floating world

Still to replace: the cracked shut-off hose under the actual sink. It's complex down there.

Behold the (mostly) completed new galley drain. That four-piece AWAB opposing hose-clamp set-up is the apotheosis of belt-and-suspenders sailing, given that it's a ridiculously short piece of hose...but then I was the one who specified a taller pipe nipple, meaning the PVC elbow and the nipple on the Marelon ball valve very nearly meet in the middle. Oh, well. It didn't leak from there on the day.

Still life with bicycle and boat. Yeah, she's a bit hefty, that boat.

The day in question was Saturday, April 28th, cool, windy and frequently rainy. Sub-par in most respects, save that a big push from Mrs. Alchemy (painting a specialt) and myself (wrenching the same) got the job(s) done.

The bottom paint this year was once again Pettit, but of a delightful Hunter Green not unlike the cove stripe (which also got touched up by my fastidious co-skipper. Next year, we grind back to the bare metal in Nova Scotia, but that's a future post.

The new outlet for the head drain is behind the redone caulking for the forward-looking sonar.

There was a little bit of water ingress from the depth transducer last year, so Mrs. Alchemy took charge of "dissolving the old 5200", a stinky and labourious process, and applying "fast cure". She was more careful inside and out than was possible with last year's rushed (and bloody) process, and nothing is leaking as of yesterday's dockside inspection.

"Fire Escape", owned by a fire chief, naturally.

Unlike previous launch days, the crane position dictated we were to go in quite early, as the second boat in the east yard, shortly after 7 AM. It was calm, however, and not yet raining...

The "sling crews" step from boat to boat to do their work.

That fibreglass hull needs a touch more TLC than ours.

The front row of what we call "The Inner Basin" is full of alarmingly large powerboats: Alchemy is far from being big in such company, although at about 15 tonnes, we are not insignificant.

Sling marks obtained!

The head of hair belongs to the owner of the next boat after us.

Note the "cinch belts" holding the slings in place. This keep the slings from "creeping" up the slope of the keel, as I am never sure if my moving things about in the boat all winter has altered the ideal place on which to put the slings in terms of a level hoist.

People never fail to take a step back at this stage. Note the nice job done on the keel bottom. That plate is 3/4" thick.

You can never have too many fenders for this gig.

The lift this year was quick and efficient; compared to the more methodical haulout process, launch is usually faster.

Putting pennants on moorings in better weather earlier in the week. At launch, it was too wet and busy for photos!

After docking, however, I was crewing on the club workboat and we had the highest number of "splashed with dead motor" cases I can recall...so it was a very busy morning on that boat.

Maybe I should shift the sling marks aft a little bit?

Long morning story short, the engine fired instantly (I had done a static test in the cradle the previous day) and we docked without further incident, although there was slight leaking beneath the new Marelon ball valves that needed a bit of tape to cure, no pun intended. I may have to spin them off next fall and be more generous with the pipe dope. As of yesterday, however, the damp has been banished. We will monitor for further issues. The dual exhaust is also, gratifyingly, dual exhausting, and the engine "note" is slightly changed, suggesting that there is, in fact, reduced back pressure.

The benefits of being (nearly) first in is getting an unobstructed beauty shot.

Next up: Manifesting the radar love and readying the mast with new VHF and AIS runs.