Workshipping (2)

Six bolts ought to do it.

When last we gathered, I had had welder/fabricator Andrew Barlow make up one of his simpler efforts, a three-piece steel frame for the starboard side of the forepeak "workshop", so I could better allocate spares, tools and other items, such as line, cable and wire.

What Mrs. Alchemy gets up to whilst I am swearing at the bow: a much-needed repainting of the pilothouse interior.

Given the size of the forepeak, however, construction within is largely a solo effort; besides, given that I have a touch of tendonitis in one shoulder (which is better than a torn rotator cuff, according to my "tough love" physician), no one needs to hear that much vile sailor talk when I am bearing down on a Makita drill.

Moving a couple of toolboxes elsewhere on a boat is predicated in large part on keeping things from moving. To date, I've relied on eye straps and shock cord. And certain mechanical aids, such as the chunk of wood meant to confine the spares box.

The box is cheap, but fit for purpose. It's half spares storage and half tools I want to hand in this work space.

The lashing down of fairly heavy boxes is provisional at the moment. I may put further chocks or hold-downs to keep said containers in place should the sea prompt quick action. Or if I have to access something while we are flailing about. The point is that the above toolbox, which weighs about 18 kilos, is now about 30 cm. aft of where it was on the port side. Which, from a boat trim point-of-view, is desirable.

This box contains a couple of sanders and some hardware odds and ends. It's light and can therefore go forward without much penalty.

There's a small work area left free of stowage. A bigger area now exists on the "heavier-duty" port side. Beneath both workbenches are eye bolts for stowing line, anchors and any appropriately sized gear capable of fitting in the space. Should this gear amount to significant weight, I can remove or reposition trim ballast (lead ingots) off the boat or further aft.

Where the eye bolts go. There's a fair bit of space here in which spare/specialty lines can be kept neat and ready.

Clearly, I'm not finished yet. Some sort of coating to preserve that fresh plywood would be advisable, but one calm, warm day this coming spring can see that completed. Also, there's a foredeck full of gear and line wanting stowage in this currently unstowed space. This, too, shall pass.

The underside. Lines/gear can hang on carbiners or just via loops on these eye bolts. If I need chafe gear, I'll install it.

There's room at the end for sail stowage. Currently, there's a spare main, which will go in newly made space in the aft cabin (yes, more on this shortly); a storm jib of ridiculous heaviness; a smaller staysail than the one rigged, just acquired today; and a cruising spinnaker. The last three sails are light, or rather, lightish, and at perhaps 12 kilos in total, can sleep in the pointy end, especially if I move several dozen kilos of chain down and aft.

Behold "the closet". It's where pointy, light things will live.

The last portion of the new construction is "the closet". You'll have to visualize that worklight cord and the anchor windlass conduit cleanly secured on the outside of the little length of wood on the hinge. The reason for the hinged wood? I have a lot of pointy, awkward objects, such as oars, plastic Portabote thwarts, Alchemy's 2.2 metre tiller, nesting dinghy mast parts, and mostly et cetera, which, while not particularly heavy, take up some space, particularly vertical space. Being tall and not alive, they tend to fall down, even more often at sea. So I need a place to stow them, either on a series of hooks and loops overhead, or in this snug spot seen above. That little piece of wood is not strong enough to keep anything truly set in motion in place, but it is enough to stop things from tipping out of that space, especially when lashed down.

Or so I hope. Like most of my ideas, "provisional" is the keyword.

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.

Aft to the future

The slight bit of corrosion on that frame will be converted chemically and recoated with two-part top paint.

Behold the underside of the bed platform we've removed in the aft cabin. The black hoses are excess hydraulic feeds for the autopilot and hydraulic actuator that steers Alchemy. The bed platform, more or less two pieces of surfaced marine plywood cut to fit the the hull shape, was on the port side (looking forward). We typically slept (at dock or underway) with our heads at the forward end.

Anyone who has been to sea in proper sea states can figure out the problems with a fore-and-aft berth that lacks a) lee cloths; and b) sleeps two. The function of a lee cloth is to keep the sleeping sailor in the berth; a boat on any kind of a heel is likely to throw or roll said snoozing crew out of the bunk and onto the sole, a situation unconducive to rest. The old-school sea berth therefore featured a wooden half-wall of sorts, but this, which functional on larger sailing vessels, did not easily allow said berth to be used as a settee when it wasn't a bed. Fore-and-aft double berths, meanwhile, required a bunk board (see photo), plus a lee cloth, so that two people could be kept still, or at least, could roll only so far, and remain safely asleep.

Bunk board and lee cloth to make a safe "double" while underway. Photo (c) Practical Sailor

The pipe berth can be wood or metal-framed. Photo (c) Sailing Anarchy

The fuss and yogic exertions to leave that hull-side berth in a lively seaway aren't worth picturing. Similarly, the 19th century solution of a well-secured hammock takes up a lot of room and can be problematic on a small yacht in terms of rapid swinging.

Pipe berths have some advantages in that they can fold or roll up in the day watch and can either be locked into a safe angle of heel or, via rope tackles, can be secured at any angle. And this might be a future project for the saloon, although we already have proper sea berths above the settee seating only requiring lee cloths to be made up to be fully usable in a seaway. Lee cloths, by the way, are commonly bolted to the berth platform and folded away when not in use. We also have two pilot berths in the pilothouse itself, but these are being used for gear and tools at present.

We've decided to move our sleeping platform across, or, in nautical terms, athwart the forward part of our aft cabin. This will accomplish several objectives, including a) gaining us about 15-20 cms. of bed platform width; b) moving our body weight forward, which is desirable for trim and comfort purposes; c) freeing up a fairly impressive amount of otherwise "dead" space opposite the hydraulic ram suitable for large, if light, stowage, such as fenders, while at sea; and d) meaning we can sleep "head on the high side" irrespective of whatever side the boat is heeling. Lee cloths would still be needed for the aft side of the newly angled double berth, however, in case the boat was to pitch uncomfortably in the off-watch.

Lastly, it puts the sleeping crew mostly out of the way of the footwell on the aft deck, which is about one centimetre lower than my crooked knee, as I found out this summer while living aboard.

Quick 'n' dirty hack just to give the general idea. The bunk, of course, will run straight to the curved portside hull.

In the above crappy, rushed diagram hacked from my "electrical layout" schematic, note that the bed extends right across the hull from the port side to the hanging lockers on the starboard. The depth of the lockers here plus the narrowing of the hull aft of the pilothouse means all that width aft of the cabin's built-in bookshelf (and future SSB installation) is needed for adequate sleeping length. However, this means using up all the floor space in the aft cabin, which, when it is deployed, will be under the bed's "flap". Stowed when not in use, the flap will be on a sturdy hinge and will be supported by cross-braces and beams through-bolted to the existing lockers and cabin furniture.

The present clothing shelving for socks, underwear and T-shirts will be shifting to fore-and-aft stowage in heavy-duty plastic drawers on a platform under the flap. Further stowage space will be "liberated" under the platform and some wiring will be more easily routed under here.

Those wooden "floors" are actually two triagular access ports to the aftmost bilge through which the prop shaft runs.

I'll post up further discussion as this project, which I hope to finish before the end of March and our move back aboard.

A flood of infinite labour vs. finite time

The above shots show the progression of the rising waters at our club between May 6 and May 14 this year. It's a rerun of the destructive flooding of 2017, and while our club, by virtue of having floating and not fixed docks, and the building itself built on a low podium of sorts, is in less trouble than many other lakeside operations, things remain tense.

The bridge over excess waters.

While our previous experience has given us as a club some expertise, even a mild breeze from the wrong direction can send waves against the lawns and brickwork, much of which is now sporting algae and waterfowl and even small fish.

Why, yes, this has made getting masts in problematic.

Trouble is, there's no evidence that this will stop soon. At its exit to the St. Lawrence River, Lake Ontario's outflow is controlled by a series of dams, but there's a hard limit to how much water can be sent downstream to Montreal, which has had arguably worse flooding this year. So the rest of the Great Lakes in a very wet winter and spring continue to gush, via Niagara Falls, in our general direction.

Trenton shed number 2: Oh, this was annoying.

Meanwhile, work proceeds on the time-honoured labour principle of "you can sleep when you die". The newer of the two sheds in Trenton was, at some cost to temper and knees, completed by my father-in-law and myself despite some clear issues at the plastic shed plant. Never again. Wood and planks for me, or steel. Yeah, steel's the ticket.

I don't even know what will go into this yet. But something will

The new tenants are working out fine, despite their discovery of some house-flipper mischief that dogged their enjoyment regarding certain plumbing and electrical half-assery. So bills have been paid.

Main post lazyjackings.

 The mainsail is on, and the lazyjacks (including a bosun's chair rereeving by Mrs. Alchemy) are lazyjacking. From a distance, Alchemy's starting to look functional.

Those empty slips are now occupied.

 Beneath decks, improvements continue. The new hydraulic lines are installed (autopilot to come) and "anti-chafe" applied.

There's not the rub.

In the same vicinity, I chopped the floor in half and added handles to make the "aft bilge" accessible. It's not a huge space, but it's dry and awkward objects, such as the storm shutters, can nestle there comfortably.

That's the propshaft log down there.

The anchor's on again. Yes, I need to "borrow" the swim deck of the powerboat ahead of us to safely do this job.

The rustier chain is to the Fortress "lunch hook"; the main anchor chain is partially in the lashed black bucket.

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The arrival of the monster Loos Gauge permitted a provisional tuning of the rig.

We hired three labourers at short notice to help us hump this thing into place. Never have I paid cash so happily.

One of my tenants is a contractor and very kindly drove our ridiculously heavy boat cradle off the club property and to the somewhat damp Trenton backyard "depot".

Padeye through-bolted for preventering.

Meanwhile, back aboard, some long-standing safety matters were in play. We've never had reefing or preventers rigged on Alchemy, but that's changing. The reefing's pretty straightforward: we're going with two-line "slab" reefing for simplicity and because it's easy to work at the mast for us. Another advantage is that dacron-covered Spectra/Dyneema line means less weight aloft with no loss of strength. String theory in action.

The padeye above is the terminus of the Spectra-core line that goes on starboard side about the length of the boom and which is secured on a horn cleat near the gooseneck by a loop of shock cord. Running from the cockpit to beefy blocks either side of the bow and then outside of the forward shrouds are two 1/2" Dacron lines, which are stretchier than the Spectra-core. Tying or shackling the boom line to the bow line and cleating off means that downwind work is made safer (and easier on the rig) by "preventing" crash gybes. We are still considering a boom brake, but our mainsheet tackle, at 6:1, is already good at controlled trimming, so we'll review later on.

I call it "Frasier".

The stern was adorned with the remounting (after the SS base finally turned up) of the deck crane, which is used to bring aboard dinghy motors and provisions of unusual size, delivered by tender.

Stairway to heaven.

I "fabricated" (using a length of wood, a shop vise and main force) a third tabernacle step for Mrs. Alchemy to be able to reach the top of the mainsail cover, the mainsail halyard shackle and other areas a little too out of reach for a 160 cm. skipper. Don't let the size fool you: that little tab can take my weight. The angle is on purpose...it just needed a quick filing of the edges.

Lexan, stainless steel: two things tricksy to drill.

A salvaged sheet of 3/8" Lexan shall serve as storm shutter material for the aft cabin portlights and the pilothouse windows forward. We really don't need them elsewhere.

Shifty, if you ask me.

A long-time ambition to have an outside throttle-shifter is about to be realized this week as the existing Morse cables to the engine will be paired with two more similar to special Teleflex fittings which allow either the aft deck throttle-shifter or the pilothouse shifter, assuming both are left in neutral, to operate the diesel. This avoids having to purchase "yokes" for 2 into 1-style cabling, which saves money for us and reduces complexity inside the boat.

I like to keep the engine clean, it's a clean machine.

Measuring up the preventer geometry, I found the existing mainsheet was too short to allow the boom to get fully "over" in order to be preventered. So I sewed a second line onto the first to see how much more I'd need. Turns out 25 more feet was the answer. Remember, at 6:1, that gives me only four more feet or so extra swing. I took the opportunity to reduce the mainsheet diameter from 1/2 inch, which was binding a bit when wet, to 7/16": the loss in ultimate breaking strength was tiny in such an otherwise robust setup, and while my hands prefer 1/2" (which are the diameters of the halyards and sheets), this is easier to coil down in such a long length.

Full and by.

We had the Dacron cover of our spare halyard fray off for a number of feet: turns out that some of the necessary clearances of our busy halyard configuration allowed some chafing to occur. I (again) sewed a new line onto the old and rove it fairly easily over the sheave. The former halyard will become spare docklines of unusual strength once the cover is lashed back into place and whipped.

This is less confusing than it looks.

Lastly, our old Easyblock double block, used for the portside combo leading aft of the port jib sheet and the furling line, was taken off active duty in favour of the HARKEN DOUBLE BLOCK, in all caps because of its expense and terrifyingly competent appearance.

Block apps.

 Meanwhile, it's getting Biblical out there.

Yesterday (May26, 2019) on the access road to the club.

The storm drains are reversing and lake water is creeping onto the road. We've heard rumours, which Mrs. Alchemy wisely discounts, but still...that the massive current in the St. Lawrence seaway system may complicate locking down this summer, as is our intention. So we will keep out the customary weather eye. I'm glad I pushed the masting as fast as I could at the beginning of May. Seemed prescient.

Falling into winter

It was the jib's time, actually.

For Canadian sailors on the Great Lakes, October can be a sad time. The same weather that brings exciting sailing in the form of cool, windy days great for long trips also heralds the five months of the year (here inland at Toronto at least; it's different on the east and west coasts) that our boats are, generally, cradled on land. Decommissioning, which involves at our club demasting, is a fair bit of work and preparation to avoid damage or even injury (our mast may be 200 kilos to judge by the grunting five adults make to get it off the dolly and into a rack).

The naked foretriangle is shocking!

This year, however, is (I certainly hope) the last year we'll be in Toronto for some time, and we are crowding the boat with all sorts of spares and tools we've previously kept in a garage or a related storage space. Making room for every sail we intend to bring has involved a fair bit of planning. And there will be more to come.

I was able on a relatively light air day to take off the yankee-cut jib by myself and to bag it and the staysail in the forepeak. The mainsail removal required Mrs. Alchemy, as the day selected was very breezy (20-28 knots) and only the favourable WNW wind direction that made "head to wind" at dock over the deck, more or less, allowed a reasonably crisis-free stripping and folding away. No pictures, alas...I'm sure it was dramatic from shore!

The pensive Mrs. Alchemy did not, evidently, fancy being in this shot.

Because I need to prep the inward-turning pilothouse flange to restore its roof, I needed to have a look-see. I want to clean up this flange and put a wide strip of HDPE plus butyl tape for sealing purposes all the way around to separate the steel from the aluminum prior to bolting it down; the bolts will have coatings and nylon bushings to keep them from reacting electrically with roof or hull. The roof, although it's aluminum, is a well-built, heavy thing, so I rigged the boom to work with the topping lift to hoist it up.

Needs a clean, but the two-part's intact.

Unfortunately, the imminence of the haulout this coming weekend means I may have to wait until the spring in order to finish this job (paint not kicking well in mid-winter), as without the boom, I would either have to rig a gantry to lift the roof or, as has been the case in the past, find four men willing to lift the thing gently to one side or to find a Polecat crane.

That "polished" part is where the old fluxgate compass sat, and where the new heading sensor will go.

One outstanding task is to regasket the pilothouse roof's opening hatches. Both drip a bit in the rain, and as a stop-gap, I've taped them up.

The sharp-eyed will note I went from the straps to the line. More secure.

Lastly, I brought down the Honda 2 to sit on its designated workshop mount. One-armed lifting and shifting is a beautiful thing. Tomorrow, the mast comes out.

There's a newer 2.3 HP Honda, but I'm not tempted. An air-cooled, 15 kg. 3.5 HP? Perhaps.