The winter of our content rent

 

He's got a fine head of hair, my nephew. And a very nice wife, too.

Time certainly flies when one is having boat. It's been a rather busy time aboard, abroad and ashore, with blogging updates deferred...but no longer! First up was nephew Ryan's wedding to Alex. Despite a bit of drizzle, a very good time was had. Logistics were tricky for us, however, what with retrieving dress shoes from Trenton and me needing a smaller suit thanks to The Boat Diet Plan: Eat less, move more, preferably on a 32C vessel.

A rare shot of Alchemy's two skippers, not giving conflicting orders.

After that pleasant duty came a scramble to secure a winter berth; to secure insurance for said berthing; to secure shoreside accommodation; and to feel more secure about some neglected sailing skills. So we buggered off to Niagara-on-the-Lake, as one does.

Foofy wind, however.

 ...and to Port Darlington for dinner with sailing pals Matt and D-L...

Sunset and rum, a good combination.

 On a rainy day, I even fit in another trip to see HMCS Haida, of loving memory...

In case one wishes to construct a WWII destroyer.

But other needful things beckoned. Our friend and agent for our now-sold house Suzanne Manvell found us a boat-club-proximate flat in late 2018 in which we stayed for 11 months until we moved aboard in June, 2019. Faced with an unexpected winter stay-over here in Toronto, and not Halifax, we asked her again if she knew of a downtown apartment in which we could stay short-term (we expect to move back aboard Alchemy at the end of March, 2020 with the goal of [finally] leaving Toronto circa April 15).

Unexpectedly, she said "how about my house?" Suzanne had a tenant leaving a first-floor flat and we could start renting October 1, which suited us perfectly. Her house is only slightly farther away from our winter berth than was the last place, and there's a corner of the garage suitable for sailbags, bicycles and dinghy sail rigs.

From stair to door is sufficient for clearing out most of the forepeak, plus bikes.

 The place is spacious and bright. We'd best enjoy it as it's likely to be our last "house" for some time.

Available spring 2020!

 Even the Cabin Boy got his dungeon, suiting his slightly Gothic bent.

He eventually got a bed, firm not cruel.

Meanwhile, we had to wangle insurance. Our carrier insisted that "floating, non-liveaboards" needed a canopy, tent or other covering to cast off snow and ice and discourage top-heavy turtling. Now, we have never done this for Alchemy: we've just shovelled off the decks when needed. But I knew where to go: the good crew of the steel ketch Goshawk, Jay and Rob, who live on Frenchman's Bay and who know their business as they are winter liveaboards.

This is from where I took my design cues, but, as will be seen, I didn't go to quite these sturdy lengths.

Jay and Rob do an impressive, generally bulletproof job because they would know right away were it to fail and because a proper covering makes for a warmer boat.

They run PVC tubing to the decks and packing tape as transverse supports. Then they shrink the cover on with a propane torch both impressive and, if not wielded carefully, destructive. See next post...

The bow of the boat need not be covered.

Everyone has the approach that works for themselves.

This "boom attachment point" I pretty well copied directly.

Having received the collective boat-cover wisdom while we were still at National YC (we moved gradually into the apartment during October as we wanted to sail as long as we could)...

Cobourg looking like a mill pond after a fairly gusty passage and a decision to bail out of a straight shot to Waupoos.

...we learned we weren't going to get approval to stay in the water at our club (it was a longshot) and so confirmed our berth at a nearby marina. 

The weather held until late October, save for some weirdness.

 Our slip was wide, but short. Good thing we had plenty of lines.

This was actually helpful when constructing the boat cover. I put together the Portabote and worked around the perimeter.

We also had an unusual 50-foot powerboat in steel from the 1960s opposite, cutting the breeze somewhat.

I don't see many steel boats on Lake Ontario larger than ours that aren't on the job.

 After some exotic maneuvering, we were ensconced.

Note the sails, bagged, tagged and garaged for the winter.

 This was Hallowe'en. The next post reveals what came next.

Have you never seen a horny teenager?

.And it was scary!

Going somewhere?

It's odd to hope you never see this deployed in earnest, or in the absence of the main vessel, really.

Having a freer hand with the boat gear purchases made the recently visited Toronto Boat Show reviewed last time a lot more fun than usual. But I've spent a lot of time in research/review mode, as well, trying to make the best choices in gear for our vessel's voyaging. First up of the "big buys", if just about the last to arrive, is the Viking RescYou six-person liferaft. Last to arrive, because the clock starts ticking on the service schedule from when the raft arrives, and we don't need to mount this until after we launch in late April. We also got the rail-mounted cradle and the "hard" container, as this isn't something I want to muscle out the companionway if things go pear-shaped. We already have a ditch bag and are debating its contents, but a handheld watermaker is already in there.

Now, to rig jacklines and bolt padeyes in all the right places.

Continuing on the safety front, we now have a pair of Wichard ProLineR 2m/1m safety tethers. I picked this version for flexibility as I plan on installing Kong Tango carbiners on jackline webbing as needed and snapping onto that. This allows the smaller shackle to be used on "static" clip-ons, such as padeyes on the mast tabernacle or wire. A shout-out to Attainable Adventure Cruising, which has been, as in so many other areas of offshore sailing, a source of great value.

Self-rescue the better way.

Now, tethers keep crew on the boat, when used effectively and without exception. But you'll see the problem inherent in the system: human behaviour, plus simple misfortune of, say, tripping off the boat. There are a number of ways to address this, starting with "always wear your PFB on deck. Always." Now, after that, the options multiply. We've had PLBs (pictured is the successor to ours), and we have liferings and throwing line slings and danbuoys and assorted means to retrieve a COB (crew overboard). But the device pictured above is a step beyond.

Arguably, the most dangerous time for a crew is watchstanding at night; smaller crews, as ours will largely be unless we pick up crew, will have the nightwatch hours split into two or three shifts, at least one of which will have only a single crew, tethered on deck, awake. Should a crew fall off the boat, this AIS MOB1 will not only transmit to the AIS receiver on board, it will also send a DSC alarm to the VHF, which is going to wake up everyone on board. Lastly, it's got a strobe. Save for survival conditions (stay aboard, kids), in which case the crew would almost certainly be awake and tethered and ready for anything, this seems like a game-changer for self-rescue, a topic that has interested me for some time. Fact is, in most cases, save relatively near to shore, the boat from which the crew has unexpectly departed is best placed to get their crew back alive. Search and rescue not only take time, they are generally not available more than a couple of hundred NM offshore. So this is a helpful advance.

Hello, hello? Dinner is ruined!

Now, what about the boat? We could have a medical emergency, a dismasting or a small fire that cripples our ability to make passage. We needn't be sinking. We needn't be taking to the liferaft. But we may have to call in outside help. That when you trigger the EPIRB. I selected this model for its balance of features, and because we also have a functioning PLB and will also have a satellite phone and handheld VHFs with GPSes (as does my watch). We are making it hard to get lost, frankly.

Slightly less capacity, greatly less corrosion, much easier to haul to shore.

Speaking, more or less, about cooking up solutions, we have now a fibreglass propane tank to replace the steel one that came with the boat, which is at least 13 years old and probably uncertifiable. This one will be easier to haul ashore empty or filled.

I can see clearer now and can correct for variation.

These were not strictly necessary as I possess fairly good, if vintage, Kurt Muller circa 1940s 7 x 50 binoculars. But these Steiner Navigator ProC binoculars have a built-in compass and very impressive optics, making buoy spotting or bearings to landmarks very simple, once I figure out how the steel deck affects them. Experience suggests "a lot" for my compact wife and "not at all" for my loftier son and myself...the steel seems to bother compasses to about the 165 cm. mark above deck and then hardly at all.

If you're going to pump with enthusiasm, go hydraulic.

The quest to install the autopilot has taken a great leap with the ordering of an Octopus reversing piston hydraulic pump and a Navico NAC-3 "core pack" and some associated gear that will make helming, we hope, a doddle. More on this as the pieces arrive.

I don't favour Gill particularly, but we've ended up with Gill gear because we've had very few issues with it and it's good value for our money, particular if you buy last year's wonderfoulie. But then we have a dry boat.

Lastly, Mrs. Alchemy is off to Brittany this week to take an RYA course in (very) tidal waters. So in our traditional mode of seeking bargains in discounted foulie gear, she picked up a rather nice set of Gill OS23 jacket and offshore pants at a good price. I didn't make a sound when she got some long-sought-after duBarry sea boots (not pictured as they were closeouts). I remain stuck with Canadian Tire wellies, as nothing else fits me.

And that's enough for now about how we spent our Christmas money!

Why the new year is, hopefully, the last year

I'm pretty good with weather, but this cloud waterfall is both baffling and ominous.

Amid the lowering clouds of December I toiled to get the boat further in shape for a late June/early July 2019 departure; hence the title referring to the last winter of refitting, which I realize is probably hubristic. There's a lot left to do, including moving out of an apartment and stowing the contents 160 km. to the east, along with purchases from the upcoming boat show of an EPIRB, a life raft, water tanks, and the finishing of various welding/fabrication jobs.

Ah, speed wheel, you're yesterday's news.

To that end, out came the old speed wheel. This hole will be plated over. Zincs are also to be added. Plus a big change I'll cover off in future weeks. Plus Christmas happened. Goodness, it's a busy time.

Although not without its upsides: Can't take it with me!

After a very pleasant Christmas and New Year, during which the wine cellar was liquated with enthusiasm, we are getting back to work. But we didn't really stop: December saw a lot of progress.

This is not as disorganized as it looks, although with the hydraulic hoses out, I can tidy up and cable-tie the wire runs better.

The hydraulic setup to the helm, as the surveyor remarked last spring, were requiring more pumps to effectuate rudder action. While the hydraulic fluid was sufficient, there was evidence that the hoses themselves were starting to "sweat" and needed replacement. Job one, then, is to remove them and take them to a truck shop or something not "marine" to have them made up to the same gauge and lengths. The fittings are in good shape and may be reuseable. Here's a lucid link for the perturbed to the wonderful world of hydraulic pumps in general, but a lot of this is marine-orientated.

The back of the first of two Marol HRP-38 helm pumps.

It's a messy, cold job, I won't lie. Out of shot is Mrs. Alchemy, down in the engine bay with a bucket to catch the spills.

As I removed the retaining nuts on the couplers, I swaddled the ends in paper and tape to catch the leaks. Spinning the wheel squirted out a lot more into a handy cup.

Pretty clean back here after 30 years. Good.

The mounting system is four Allen bolts and a nut. Easy and secure.

The rare shot of the skipper at work.

If heavy and awkward (see: 90% of the refit process). These are fishing trawler-grade helms and they are about 15 kilos in weight minimum...and empty.

Perhaps Cabin Boy can polish the entire wheel spoke area now!

The rest of the draining exercise took place on deck. Just visible is the "sailing" helm, as opposed to the "pilothouse" or "downstairs" or "power" helm. A secret of sailorly exclusionary language is that a lot of it is completely made up to be difficult.

Needs a paint job as the outdoor life is a hard one. The insides, however, are in good shape. The brown ring is a fibreglass spacer.

The second helm was easier to remove because a) there's direct access behind a metal plate in the binnacle, and b) its wheel is much smaller and lighter, which is easier to handle with an Allen key in one hand.

Also wanting a paintover, but essentially in good shape.

The helm will have some TLC. The nearly rotten wooden box atop it will go to be replaced by a HDPE caddy for beverages, sunglasses and the like. Wood on a steel boat is fine...inside.

That's leaked hydraulic fluid. I'd swab it out, but it will keep the rust at bay until it's warm enough to paint. Or so I maintain.

And some very nice AWAB T-clamps, for the discerning boater's BWL needs.

I have been able to obtain, at reasonable cost save for the detective work, the seal rebuild kits for both helms and for the Marol MRB-75A rotary actuator controlling the rudder ram. Because it's the hoses that were near end-of-life, and not the seals, I will likely save the seal kits as I am not sure Marol makes this helm pump, beefy and capable as it's seemed to us, any more. I know they make the actuator, however, but I have no evidence yet that it's leaking or needs the service. Might be a "Halifax" job for next winter, then. We'll see. Now the job is to find a truck place to replacate these hoses in a bulletproof fashion. Truly, I'm not sure if "rubber" hydraulic lines are not sufficient, given the comparatively low pressures these helm pumps create. Comments on this are welcome.

Doesn't look like much, but it promises a great deal.

Lastly, I received the Lars Thrane LT-1000 heading sensor I need to orient my radar and to improve my plotter's accuracy. I foofed around on this decision for a long time; originally, I wanted the Comnav Vector 2 GPS Compass, but this item is a third the size, half the price and works with both NMEA 2000 (the plotter/AIS net) and NMEA 0183 (what the Furuno radar likes). Adding it will unlock the radar's full suite of features and will, in effect, make the radar a second plotter capable of showing the AIS target information, SOG, COG and all those other data points of interest. This thing even gives baro and temp. Getting one involved some effort; once again, I find my needs are somewhat rarefied at the pleasure boater level.

More to come soon!

Rack, not ruin

If this cradle is rocking, you're in trouble.

This is the cradle I put up a couple of days ago in anticipation of haulout, provisionally at the crack of dawn on Saturday. I am not precisely sure what will happen to this cradle if, as we fervently hope, we mosey down the St. Lawrence to overwinter in Nova Scotia. I'll have to see about the logistics and costs of shipping it, an object as bespoke as the boat it fits, to Nova Scotia as I imagine we'll haul there for the winter to complete some projects and live in a furnished apartment. Or something. We haven't really planned that far.

The mast was pulled yesterday. This took Mrs. Alchemy and myself about two half-days to manage, involving as it does the removal and packing away of sails, mainsail/vang tackles, removing and coiling down of cables, halyards, spares and assorted strings, plus the sometimes fraught process of getting a line over the first spreaders to make a loop for the mast crane to hoist the heavyweight (I estimate 200-250 kilos) mast out of its tabernacle. And it was windy (25 knots) yesterday. And there are 12 stays. And we removed and disassembled the SPADE anchor, a non-trivial job when the boat's in movement and you are trying not to scratch the neighbour's swim platform. Anyway, no time for pictures, and I'm sure my shoulder will heal.

Inside that jellyfish-like blob is the radome, wrapped in both bubble-wrap and heavy-duty plastic sheathing. The yellow and orange bungees kept it from flopping in its journey to the mast racks.

I removed the spreaders today, again in wind that gusted to about 30 knots, took off the Windex and the AIS and VHF aerials, padded the Furuno radome, cable-tied and bungeed all stays, shrouds, wires, cables and the forestay foil snug to the mast, and then used a jib sheet to hog-tie (think "parcel wrap" the mast from bottom to top.

I then helped several other club members to do the same. It's the nature of the club deal.

I had an update go wonky via wi-fi, so I prefer cards now. It's significantly faster, too.

Elsewhere in the floating world, my plotter has, in the fashion of what could only be a 21st-century problem, been nagging me to accept an upgrade. Fair enough. My usual habit, as the Wi-Fi signal to the end of the dock is sub-optimal, is to download the requisite files to a micro SD card, insert said baby's fingernail-sized object in the slot at the back, turn the plotter on and wait for the old blue bar.

All went well. I quite enjoy the AIS info my Vesper unit feeds to the plotter.

I wanted the upgrade for the best shot at trying something I've wanted to do for some time. In August, I got a new phone as my basic but functional Windows phone, a Nokia Lumia 625, had a cracked screen due to some thoughtless boat gymnastics on my part. When the salesperson at the mall kiosk (a place I rarely tread) learned my birthday was the same as his, he threw in an LG Android tablet into the deal. All I wanted was roaming, for fairly obvious reasons. Prior to sailing away, we are moving about more.

So even a cheap tablet fitted my plan, which was to download a bit of software so I could use the tablet as a repeater screen for my plotter at the outside helm or elsewhere on the boat. In the appropriate waterproof case, naturally.

Well, that's damned handy.

The reviews of this software weren't good, so I fired it up with a bit of trepidation. But making the plotter into a "hot spot" allowed me to log into it and to even control it remotely from the tablet. I think it helps that I have been setting up networks since the evil days of DOS and just assume I can get devices talking to each other, but really, this was a doddle and unless the latest version of this software is vastly superior to the bitchy comments I was reading in the reviews, I'm not sure what the problem was. It took me four minutes to set up. I went outside and the steel of the pilothouse created a tiny bit of lag, but it appears I can use the tablet at the outside helm to control the plotter without running wires. That's a big plus for me.

Now, to get the boat on land...

Comms 'n' sea

The baffled cat, "Shadow". Much as I would like to bring her, she's not coming on the voyage. Wouldn't be fair, and likely would be fatal for the cat.

Leading with a cat photo should not only get me some cheaply earned hits, but also suggest I am capable of whimsy. Which is true, but not often when it comes to the boat. However, I'm willing to make an exception when it comes to my cat, who only goes into the entirely wild yard under supervision.

The Vesper XB-8000 AIS transceiver booting up. All the wiring is loose (and the holes in the pilothouse unsealed) until I can route said wiring back into the pilothouse roof, which will be thereafter fastened down to the pilothouse frame for the first time in ages.

I, on the other hand, tend to work solo on the boat. This is because Mrs. Alchemy works at a distant wildlife centre for stupidly protracted hours, particularly in fertile spring, and I work from home upon request as an editor. Which means, in practice, plenty of work some days and bugger off  by 1100h others. That's condusive to boat work, which is why I haven't worked in an office since I got into boating in 1999. Sincerely, what have I missed? Oh, yes: NOTHING.

Had to download some USB drivers, but otherwise, this installation of Vesper Marine's software was a doddle.

Anyway, in a week that saw, as part of our house-sale process, the acquisition of a stackable washer-dryer and the transport of same about three kilometres by hand cart and shoe leather (we lack a car and rarely miss one, save for when we have to do this sort of First/Third World transit), I was able to drill some strategic holes and get both the radar and AIS cabling inside the pilothouse. The cabling is sloppy and excessive because I have yet to decide where to mount the AIS module and the radar display...to think I thought "I wonder if it's big enough?"...damn, it's huge from 45 cm. away.

From marinetraffic.com, evidence that Alchemy can both see and be seen, at least in terms of AIS. And yes, I turn it off when I leave the boat. I actually have no interest in pointing out where I keep my tools.

The AIS setup was pretty straightforward, save for the usual search for the USB drivers and the paranoia surrounding the correct inputting of the MMSI number. However, all went well and, as seen above, we are now transmitting a Class B AIS signal, complete with some related data attached to our MMSI number. Huzzah! I didn't screw up the mast connections!

Boat, as seen from the boat. It's all a little meta, isn't it?

Sure, English, but just this once.

The Furuno 1815 manual and related guidance (note the "quick start" flip cards to the left of the above photo) are excellent, if densely detailed. Because I tend to learn by doing, I will likely take the now rigged-for-sailing boat out tomorrow to play with the radar controls and see what I (literally) see from a few miles south of Toronto.

The first sweep. Of course, inside a basin next to about 300 condos, plus a tree line, it's a dog's breakfast.

The radar is complex in terms of the variety of tunings, ranges, guard rings, and display options, but not dauntingly so, and on first glance it seems very much what the skipper ordered. What remains to be done is linking the plotter via a to-be-purchased NMEA 2000 patch cord to the AIS unit, so that AIS targets (and their calculated distance away) are visible on the plotter. I may also link via the secondary NMEA 0183 wiring the radar to the AIS, so I can have AIS information available on the radar screen. What I won't likely do is have radar "layover" on the plotter...I think that would be visually too distracting and I want to keep radar church and plotter state separate for now. Still, a good few days' work.