Cloth and copper

Lee cloths on sail. Also seen is the small but intense future forepeak vacuum.

Part of the preparation to move back aboard is in the attempt to make living aboard in actual sea conditions safer. That's why Mrs. Alchemy is sewing up lee cloths for our respective bunks. There's nothing dramatically difficult about this: you cut them, hem them and put in grommets for the light line to secure them overhead. They keep sleepers from rolling out of their berths in a seaway when the boat might heel enough to impart motion.

This was donated from the Genco Marine loft. A small boat owner never picked it up years ago and it was sitting in a bag, unloved and unused. Well, now it will (after the plague recedes) get to go on a nice trip snuggling sailors.

Mordor on the Lake.

The dark and stormy nature of the day didn't deter me, although snow down the forepeak hatch was a little chilly. I completed (for now) the paralleling of the two Group 27 batteries dedicated for the windlass on deck. They are now charging as one bigger battery, and it will therefore be easier to keep them healthier longer.

Wire of this gauge (2 ga.) is more than is strictly necessary for battery interconnects, but I have a fair bit of it and the rest of the forepeak windlass and battery bank setup is comprised of it. I can't abide line loss, I guess.

As previously discussed, paralleling similar batteries is pretty straightforward: link pos to pos and neg to neg with same-sized "patch cords", and then put the charging wires on the positive of one battery and the negative of the other.  Both batteries are pretty new and should charge similarly over time and taking care to keep the electrolyte monitored.

Not marine-grade, but a nice addition to the forepeak in that if I ever have a problem with inverting the main bank, I can run a power tool forward if I wish.

My late sister did not know much about sailing or the gear involved, but she did give us some thoughtful presents over the years, and I've finally installed this one. It's a 2000W inverter meant to allow a car (presumably with its engine running) to supply inverted AC power to, say, a small, intense vacuum cleaner or other tool or string of LED lights when a regular outlet is not available. I'm under no illusions that this is marine-grade gear; for one, it's a modified sine wave inverter and probably not super-efficient, like, for instance, our Victron inverter for the main bank. But it's comparatively sheltered and can use the windlass bank in a pinch to do quick jobs when we're on the hook and I don't care to fire up one of the Hondas. Besides, with three AC outlets and a USB slot, it's "nice to have".

An outbreak of boat jobs

Can't. About to move aboard!

The above request is courtesy of Marina Quay West, which has several dozen liveaboards in residence and where the good ship Alchemy is being readied to being a floating home once again, and, it is most devoted to be wished, a sailing home by April 30th, which is when our apartment lease and our marina dock lease expire.

There have been many, many changes since the last post. A major one was the offer of our boat club, National YC, to offer us a dock (good thing we never "cashed in" that dock right, right?) for the summer, which means going "up" the membership status ladder from "crew" to "senior"...which will cost us money. Given the extremely tentative nature of our plans to leave Lake Ontario this season, even to get just to Nova Scotia and get our hull recoated and our standing rigging redone, leading to the possibility that not only might we cruise in circles this summer, but might also have to haul out (because the antifoul paint will be rather tired at that stage) in Toronto, our plans scuttled for another years, we decided to rejoin the club and get a dock, a course both providential in terms of timing, but a little bitter in terms of dreams deferred.

The underside of the wind generator "body" has a compressing collar and Allen bolts. I believe it is happiest with a 1.875 OD pipe.

Nonetheless, while there remains even a glimmer of hope of leaving on May 8th (the first day of what was the "suspended until further notice"  aspect of locking down the Seaway for boats such as ours), we press on with the refit just because we should. One long-postponed project is the installation of an Air-X wind generator on the stern to supplement the solar panel portion of the shore-independent power regime. This 12 VDC model is not necessarily the best or the quietest, but I traded it for a 24VDC acquired at a yard sale from the people who sold us our solar panels, and it seems reasonably robust, although it needs a paint job. Andrew Barlow, fabricator extraordinaire, is going to make up a pole for it and a footplate on which said pole will be mounted, which in turn will be bolted onto the flange off the stern of Alchemy fit for the purpose. Its role is supplemental to the solar panels, and we'll see if it earns its keep in that regard on, for instance, night passages when we'll presumably want radar and AIS chewing amps on the night watch.

Because it wouldn't be a passagemaker without a load of gear off the arse.

Other improvements include the resurrection of Alchemy's original 20 amp charger, which I found was made not only for Westmarine, but in versions labelled by StatPower and Xantrex (as the Truecharge model). Manuals are available still, and this is a pretty straightforward unit suitable for keeping two Group 27 deep cycle batteries of about 210 Ah capacity and wired in parallel topped up.

Does the job and so did the 5200 in sticking the board to which it's screwed to the collision bulkhead.

The idea here, which I consider not overly crazy, is that if the main house bank fails or otherwise requires service (or simply needs to be moved out of the way for access or repair of the tankage and plumbing beneath it), I can have two Group 27s at the ready to "become the house bank" or the start batteries as needed. After all, the windlass can also be worked manually, if onerously. Belt and suspenders thinking at work!

The energized windlass breaker and solenoid box: This is tidier than it looks.

Part of the prep of moving aboard is sending things into storage. To that end occassioned a socially distanced visit from my nephew Ryan Dacey and his still-under-warranty missus, Alex. The two of them brought some of my late parents' records, old photos and other "treasures from the basement" of their mother, my late sister. Off to Trenton it shall go.

Try not to cough.

Onward to the construction of the bed platform, which, being 90° rotated from the original, needed accessorizing to serve as an athwartship double berth. First up was constructing a crosspiece on which the hinged "bed flap" could land smoothly and capable of supporting the weight of two dozing admirals. This required an aluminum backing plate for the inside of the hanging lockers.

Why, yes, the vacuum cleaner got a workout in this process.

The flap itself is 1/2" marine ply, reinforced by stiffeners underneath and hinged with a stainless steel piano hinge and two SS strap hinges at either end. It will be held just past vertical when not in sleep mode by a peg set into the bookshelf surround, backed up by an eye-and-hook.

The underside is shimmed 1/4" to make the whole thing level. There will be a strip of gasketing material to keep those bolts and screws from chewing at the wood and metal. Stowage is below.

The upper side will have, at first, thick closed-cell foam as a Velcro'd on base, with memory foam as a mattress. We will have to improvise to get the hinge covered for comfort, but expect to get fitted mattresses and a Froli-type substrate sometime down the road. Mrs. Alchemy is already planning out lee cloths.

Prior to strap hinges and, you know, the bedding.

Imagine, if you will, that we are on either starboard or port tack, at night, with Cabin Boy on watch. We can shift our head or feet to either end, and our weight is farther forward than it would have been. A simple movement gets us into the pilothouse (there's a new handrail just out of shot) and there's also new stowage (the rectangle cut out of the former port berth) for light items, such as fenders. We hope it serves us well. 

Moved logbook rack, restored 24-hour ship's clock and freshly repainted port-side helm area suitable for chartwork.

John Cangardel was kind enough to give us some anti-chafe gear that wraps itself around line, such as our "cross-channel" bow spring to the docks opposite. Handy, this.

Yes, our son finally cleaned the deck. Well, somewhat.

Lastly, I spent a couple of hours yesterday tracing some wiring glitches and restored the radar's power circuit and that of the AIS. This involves taking down the pilothouse wire loom secured on the forward part of the pilothouse just below its roof and getting busy with the heat shrink. When I deselect the B&G plotter's internal GPS for that of the Vesper XB-8000 AIS unit, which has its own GPS receiver above the radome some seven metres up the mast, the positional accuracy was improved...the big scribble in the second slip was "before" and the boat running its forward-looking sonar was "after": we are in fact in the first slip of this pier.

But not travelling at 0.1 knots.

A few fuses blown last year (perhaps during the October "thrashings" we administered while racking up sailing hours) were replaced; some legacy circuits at 2 amps or under have glass inline fuses, which is a better solution in some ways for small draws than endless five amp circuit breakers. So back on came the helm reading lamp.

Maybe too many pens, pencils and loose cable ties? Can confirm.

Mrs. Alchemy is prepping the saloon floor with a vigorous belt sanding so that our freshly purposed roll of Lonseal Marine teak and holly flooring can spruce the joint up a bit. It had better: it was impressively expensive, even for something with the word "marine" in it.

Wiring to be confined better before we actually leave, which could be in either May or 2021...sigh. The boxes are full of watermaker parts.

More to do, of course, but we are clipping along nicely, despite the dour circumstances. More to come soon as the seacocks are opened for business...after it snows this week.

That Chelsea clock is keeping near-perfect time now, thanks to Mr. Del Rosario's ministrations.

Refitting in the year of the plague

The windlass battery bank is in place, and so are the new Honda 2200 gensets, which are making us look prescient in some respects, despite the fact that I've wanted a new pair for several years so we can fully charge at anchor...or weld things.

A realistic review of our situation has to allow that we may not be able to leave Lake Ontario this summer. This is because the situation at the American locks (and indeed, the Canadian locks on the St. Lawrence in regard to "non-essential travel") is at present unknown, and if I even bothered to ask some official, events unrelated to the toxicity of our boat's crew could overtake and alter policy quicker than we can whip out valid passports. I know we have to identify ourselves to the operators of American locks as Canadian boaters, but is chucking a line to a lock staffer crossing a border? If we never leave the boat? Can't say right now, but it's waking me up at night.

Mrs. Alchemy, who stopped being a wildlife rehabber last week, thinks she recognized the trumpeter swan in the foreground. We were measuring the templates for the chain plates for the drogue bridle when these two rolled up.

We are in our apartment until April 15, at which point we expect to be out of the marina and on the wall at National Yacht Club for a few days to finish up some jobs at the club workshop and generally prep for imminent passagemaking. There's a few personal matters to attend to, but we may be out of luck when it comes to any services or docks available on the trip down, which could make things...well, not impossible, but difficult in some respects, particularly given that it's still very early in the season to live aboard.

Found the prop puller! Now I want to stow it, greased up, in the Ghost Tank just because I hope not to need it for some time.

For instance,  our club, due to the "social distancing" aspect of the current pandemic, is considering delaying the club's boat launching, scheduled for April 25-26, until...who knows? The club is already largely closed for business, although the washrooms and the workshop is open and people are roaming about doing the usual commissioning jobs, but with no sure outcome that the crowds and the cranes will arrive at the end of April.

Another U-bolt firmly placed through the pilothouse roof...it will also serve as a tie-down for items such as the whisker pole.

Of course, we hope to be in Kingston or so by the end of April. We have to continue to work as if that's going to happen, if for no other reason than we will be living aboard, come viral hell or Lake Ontario high water, which, naturally in this year of the plague, is totally also a thing.

The keen-eyed will note that the current water levels  of March 18, 2020, are at the same height as those of April 21, 2019, meaning "high, indeed" and potentially record-breaking.

This adds several considerations to our departure plans: 1) High water levels may threaten yacht club and marina operations severely: fuel docks may be shut and electricity turned off to docks still clear enough of the water to use. Our early start may get us past (if we can clear the locks to more or less sea-level past Montreal), but we can't count on even marinas being open for business if the pandemic is cancelling boat launching plans; 2) The high water is increasing currents in much of the St. Lawrence river and estuary. While this is not necessarily dangerous, it is a consideration that may make getting in and out of marina and YC facilities tricky.

Took a trip by train out to our chandlery of record last week. Had no problem getting a seat as I am The Last Sailor on Earth.

Meanwhile, things are getting altered, improved or fixed. The "outside" throttle shifter was very balky and eventually seized in the shifter part for reasons that remained unknown even after a forensic review with the manufacturer's service tech via phone in Florida. So, not wanting to plate over and redrill fresh holes for something different, I invoked the warranty and got a replacement. So far, so good, but I won't actually hook up the Morse cables of the outside throttle shifter until we "dewinterize" circa the end of March and move the boat to a finger-end for coming and going, which will be after we remove the gradually failing boat cover this coming week. As will most boat things, creating an orderly action plan is part of the deal.

New shifter is identical to the old, save that this, you know, shifts.

Another job of some import is to fabricate and install chainplates for the series drogue. As discussed earlier, this involves cutting and shaping stainless steel bar stock and through-bolting the resultant plates to the hull at the stern.

Crosby G-209A 3/4" shackles with 7/8" pins and a seven-ton working load. I was told that a pair of 5-ton shackles would serve, but the size of these goes nicely with the closed thimble of the Dyneema bridle.

Because the five-inch wide, 1/2-inch thick SS plates are awkward to hold against the sternquarters on a windy day, I hit upon using some much lighter alu stock at 2 1/2" wide, which is what the SS will be cut down to, to measure out where the various holes should go. The idea is to actually make four 2 1/2" wide chainplates out of the two five-inch pieces and to drill all of them with matching bolt holes. Inside the boat, the "spares" will be rotated 180° and will serve as backing plates. The two will sandwich the hull and will be bolted together with six 1/2" SS bolts and locknuts per side.

Apparently, I was holding my phone upside down. The shackle end will be rounded off smoothly to lessen the slight chance of damaging the bridle. The dotted line represents the angle of the stern just below the pipe gunwales.

Meanwhile, back in the boat, I've started to saw this and reinforce that to swing the bed platform in the aft cabin athwartships, as described before, but I also did a small job to aid and abet the new shifter. That was to cut the compartment top for the hydraulic ram area so that the Morse cables for the outside throttle shifter, which also wend their way through there to get back to the engine, could have as few curves and therefore as little opportunity for friction or related hang-ups, as possible.

This involved some fun measurements and a hole saw to make a decent-looking slot. I've saved the cut-out and may tidy this job by restoring it so the cables just emerge from the hole and go straight to the shifter body.

The bed platform will feature a hinged portion that will "go up in the daytime" and will give us about four extra inches of width. More to come on that project as I do some more reinforcements.

The swans persisted. They were curious and unafraid, suggesting the dreaded bread supplement to their diets.

Every day is busy now, and last week saw the arrival, courtesy of a friend driving down from Barrie, of a replacement solar panel for our solar arch, which I will install once the plastic's off and I have easier access to the aft deck.

Now with five extra watts than its predecessor!

Workshipping (1)

That's possibly too many lubricants.

Four years back, I sketched out a vision of what I wanted to do with the workshop in the forepeak of Alchemy. The first seven feet of the boat is a a snug, utilitarian room forward of the collision bulkhead that is reached by ladder beneath a strong steel hatch on the deck. I had ideas of putting a bicycle seat on a post in there, and having a fold-down cot for extra crew on the starboard side, and of having the windlass over the anchor well. I even wanted to cut a big, doggable hatch (above the waterline) into the saloon with an eye to ventilation and even working on the boom down there.

Well, a lot of that thinking has gone by the wayside. The ladder down into the forepeak is not a big deal and it is a compact solution to egress and the thought of engineering a square hole into the saloon...without compromising the deck support...seemed unnecessary. So did the idea of a folding cot down there. We've determined that we can stow storm sails and the light, if voluminous, cruising spinnaker in the available space if it's better laid out. The windlass was ultimately positioned farther aft so as to drop the anchor chain farther aft (better for weight out of the ends). The batteries powering the windlass are at the foot of the ladder (covered, of course) and on the centerline. The charger is on the bulkhead and there is now 12 VDC and 120 VAC (20 amps, too) outlets in this little compartment. Little bright lights to follow.

The heavier things are now farther aft and the tools and spares aren't all on the port side now. Trug is still misspelled.

This is the new look going forward. Experience actually sailing with a bunch of long/tall bits of gear have persuaded us that a sort of "rack" in which to stow the tiller, oars, PortaThwarts, and the sailing rig, rudder and centerboard of the nesting dinghy. Most of this gear is light and will, if restrained by shock cord, stay put even in rough seas, but the keyword is "restrained". The rest of the starboard side of the workshop space is now ready to have another 53 inches of working surface. This is, on most boats, an unheard-of luxury.

Working the grinder meant putting a fire blanket over the batteries to even nod in the direction of "to code"

Once again, welder/fabricator Andrew Barlow was enlisted to weld together three lengths of 1.25 x 1.25 x 3/16th inch L-bar mild steel into something strong enough to take a marine plywood top (that's my job to obtain and cut). The foredeck is covered in boxes of line, shore power cords, a few sailbags and other bits and pieces formerly loose on the starboard side and bungeed into lumps. As soon as the weather crests freezing, Mrs. Alchemy will coat the exposed metal and the weld beads I've now ground down to keep this stuff from rusting.

As can be seen, some of those tools and spares on the left would be better on the right.

I discovered, too late, that there was no 15 amp outlet on the marina's power posts. We've used 15 amp service successfully in the past via one of my 12 ga. contractor-grade extension cords, but this time, I had to take power from the 15 amp outlet inside the boat, powered from the 30 amp shore power service.

Stick around, you'll learn something.

Unfortunately, this circuit breaker kept tripping, and the irony is that I knew I was receiving two Honda eu2200i gasoline generators the very next day. Combined, these two beasts could have easily supplied Andrew's welding rig with enough juice to get the job done.

When sparks fly...you vacuum the entire compartment the next day.

So I spent quite a bit of time waiting for the breaker to trip and then flicking it back on. Andrew started to do shorter beads and eventually got full penetration of the welds, but it was an annoying few minutes and I was feeling the AC breaker board for any signs of warmth. There wasn't any.

So simple, but it will be so useful.

So we paint, and then I cut the plywood top to fit and then I bolt said top to the metal and rearrange the tool boxes and spares stowage. I have SS eyebolts so I can hang spare line more neatly, and eyestraps to keep everything lashed down. Lastly, I'll add a few more lights down there and get a larger "trug" for the anchor chain.

These are locked to the mast, so no funny stuff.

More fun to come soon as we ramp up to moving back aboard.

Good grief, we are aboard!

Had to come down at dark o'clock to secure this on deck during a gale: Thus is boat life.

My apologies for the long delay in blogging, but boat jobs, moving jobs, the appalling need to downsize and a severe time crunch involved in all of the above have hampered my "free"time and, ironically as we are supposed to be in semi-retirement, I have never worked so hard in my life, and I suspect Mrs. Alchemy would concur.

Replaced the fridge compressor. It's doing well.

Rather than list my domestic horrors trying to ship half of our possessions into storage and realizing the remainer equalled three boats' worth of stowage, I will simply list the jobs done, approached or best avoided.

Hatch strut for forepeak. Stayed up in 25 knots.

 Some jobs have manifested on the basis of deliveries or even weather. In the inevitably severe "culling of the gear", a few items were obviously and quickly done, like putting handholds in tricksy spots.

Needs further protection, obviously.

 Other jobs relied on outside contractor enthusiasm. These welded-on SS bars make the three-inch bollard horns four inches...a small but real improvement suggested by Mrs. Alchemy.

"Barlow's Bollard Extenders"

Other mods/additions were literally a decade in coming. I acquired these Lewmar 44 winches in 2009 or so. They required very precise measuring to get them in place where they would a) not interfere with each other and b) could be effectively bolted onto the deck. They are the new primaries, with the Andersen 40s relegated to staysail heavy weather sheeting and/or drogue retrieval. I spoke to Angue of Ocean Brake who suggested their switch to all-Dyneema leader in the fall means I should defer a drogue purchase to the winter.

Brought to you by trig and ADD.

Biggest winch handle versus working clearance.

It's down a bit, but not more than six inches. There's a shallow beach on the seawall beneath the waves.

 Meanwhile, flooding proceeded apace.

He's usefully taller now, about three cm. shorter than me, which makes him able to reach pretty well everything aboard.

 Cabin Boy completed his secondary school education.

Water tank frames completed.

The water tanks were measured, ordered and prepared for.

Huge pain in the ass, this job, but necessary.

The pilothouse roof was hoisted, strips of electrically isolating HDPE were secured between the mild steel flange and the alu roof, butyl and sealant and bolts restored and rubber leak-stop was sprayed.

Bonus: It holds the hatch open for brief, calm-wather egress.

The Lofrans Tigres windlass was installed. Still facing some wiring issues and a hard short to find, however. If it wasn't raining today, I'd have it apart on deck today instead of blogging about it!

Bit of a saga choosing 2 ga. wiring.

 

Every journey needs a map, right? Most of the jobs I do are first-time for me. The windlass is more like rewiring a starter motor, so not completely weird or novel.

So many holes in the steel deck makes me nervous....

The job took a couple of days and a couple of hole saws. I've gotten pretty efficient at putting holes, however, in steel decking, by necessity.

HDPE standoffs insulate the windlass body from the steel deck, as recommended by the Italiate instructions.

Looks good, but I have to trace a short.

Other ridiculously varied tasks followed. We had a custom table support made for the saloon. It lowers so that the table forms a bed platform if one is not overly enthusiastic.

 Windshield wiper finally found. I had to fab the link in the shop...

And wire it up...later...

We had to get out of our rental apartment by June 30. June 27, a truck with three burly Bellevillians showed up and hauled our "stuff" to the Trenton rental property. Said stuff filled a basement bedroom and about 60% of two sheds. We should have, in retrospect, given away even more, because too much crap came aboard and we are still culling, although the sole is visible in places now and other club members are benefitting from our compelled largess.

So many...heirlooms?

Mrs. Alchemy questions the logic of materialism.

The older, wooden, more tool-orientated shed features limited electricity.

Books, beds and toaster ovens?

That Pelican cooler is great, but too big for the voyage. We brought the beat-up Koolatron as an auxiliary fridge.

Behold the spare main...at least it's not stuffed into the forepeak.

 Once again, despite having significantly reduced our belongings last year, we gave away/Freecycled/curbed a vast amount of surplus things. Apparently, one is richer than one thinks!

The ubiquitous "Billy" bookshelves. Six of these were successfully curbed in the alleyway.

Well, that's nice.

We got aboard, although it nearly broke Mrs. Alchemy and made us uncordial at points, and started to experience life aboard. But more was to come...

Another case of loads of measuring and planning and interior alterations to get this, pun intended, in gear.

 Behold the second, "outside helm" throttle shifter. This allows us to correct a real shortcoming of Alchemy and to operate the engine from beyond the pilothouse.

I did not know one could purchase a 2 3/8" hole saw a close match for an Italian spec. Now I do.

 

Took some adjustments, but it works as advertised and we've practised docking with it. A fine mod.

Mast, moon and mainsail.

The "sundowner" has become a fixture of the day, but so have very early nights (2130-2200h) and rising with the dawn. Mainly due to exhaustion. 

Wait until you see the plumbing this requires...oy!

There's doings on the autopilot front, but I will save that for a later post. Needless to say, it's deferred our departure (again) and I'm doing it myself.

Foot plus switch.

Yes, that's a fused negative. Buy me a pint and I'll tell you why.

Further progress on the windlass. Nearly there...

This seemed a reasonable spot, semi-protected yet near the end of the vessel.

Lastly, or rather, lately, as in yesterday, I mounted the EPIRB, the emergency beacon designed to alert search and rescue folk we've got trouble aboard, or no board at all.

Goes off both in water or if buttons are pushed.

Belt, meet suspenders.

May we never, as with the liftraft, need it.