Hasn’t sunk yet!

I feel a bit bereft.  There’s this hole in my yard where a big boat used to be.  Too much space.  Bruce and Red came this morning and away went Jeffie down to the marina and over the side, where it sat in the straps half the day but then was deemed un-sinking and so is now resting quietly at the dock until the spars are finished.

 

Started on them today, in Paul’s warren of a shop.  Boy they are huge!

I am using lots and lots of 80 and 120 grit sandpaper, just trying to get the shine off them.  It’s taking longer than I thought.  Saved the biggest for last (tomorrow).

Take a look at that bowsprit, willya?

I’m getting really scared.

Also quite territorial and protective.  What if other people now want to go on it? It’s not fair, I tell you . . . and yet it is.  I just wish I was a better sailor.  The nautical types are going to come out of the woodwork now.

I guess I just want to be counted, instead of patted on the head and then ignored. 

Feeling a little post-partum depression, I guess.

The little birdie is ready to fly the nest . . .

. . . and now all there is remaining is to wait for Bruce to get back from wherever he’s hiding, come on over with his big truck, and drag Jeff Brown to the boatyard.  Paul says that he may not launch it that day (which we pray is tomorrow), but I’m hoping I am there when he does.  I’m feeling rather motherly.  Paul was a blaze of activity yesterday and today, despite the heat, making adjustments to the “worm shoe” and setting up the two (count ‘em) bilge pumps.  I’ve been watering Jeffie 3 times a day for a week, like a flower, trying to swell up the planks from the inside.  He looks like he’s weeping.

Before

 The cockpit and deck are all painted now—and boy did I learn some lessons about trowel cement and what to do different next year to get the edges smooth for a better line.  Also, perhaps next year we can take off some of the brass parts and sand them so all the old paint comes off.  Paul says Jeff will look better and better each year.  Who knows where ‘ll be next year.

 

 After

I know where I’ll be next week, though, while Jeff is at the dock—in his barn, sanding and varnishing the spars. Cousin Jennifer has donated a dinghy so we are all set.  I am sure Paul has some oars hiding somewhere.

Before

After

And of course there is the transom—finally the letters arrived and I practically made a customer service rep cry; I could not understand the application instructions for the life of me.  Frankly I think they made ‘em too complicated.  It’s just basically peel and stick.  I almost got 'em centered.

I’m told of a new, enthusiastic helper for the spars.

We’ll see!

Jeff is looking spiffier . . .

. . . but boy have we got a ways to go.  My goal is the end of August, but I just don’t know if I can get the deck all caulked and painted by then.  Although I am about ½ way done.

Paul put the cotton in the stem last week, and I did my now-favorite trowel cement trick, and a coat of epoxy (the yellow stuff, also called fairing compound I guess). 

You can hardly tell the bow was hacked to pieces.

Well, from 10 feet, anyway.

Painting the bottom took most of the day--and I've done it before so I am no stranger to this boat's bottom.  Still, what a $#@! pain.  But thanks to "Frog Tape" and a really well-scribed waterline, I think it came out okay.

Paul says next year they will re-install the worm strip below the keel; it's mostly gone now.  Geez, I hope the worms stay away!

I’ve started applying, or finishing, the trowel cement with the plastic yellow blade I was using for the fairing compound, with great results—it’s a lot smoother and uses much less goo.  Paul apparently has an endless supply of trowel cement in his magic basement, which is good since I’ve already gone through a can of it and as I mentioned, Interlux doesn’t make it anymore.

Here are the tricks of the caulking trade—three little irons, which Paul showed me how to use and which I’m using on the deck, where mistakes don’t exact such a high price, like sinking.  But fortunately on the deck there aren’t that many gaping holes all the way down.

After the trowel cement is done on the deck I think I will paint all the white, and then possibly sand and paint the cockpit (yawn-inducing gray). Then on to the deck (light tan) while Paul wrestles with the (ulp) keel under the cockpit, which he says has gotten a little “mushy.”  Will this poor boat’s trials and indignities know no end?  And for this we have to drill out holes and put brass pins in there along with epoxy, which apparently will do the trick until such time as Jeff gets a complete keel transplant.  Or sinks.  Or both.

The boat-letterer, who does it every year, just told me she won’t be able to do it this year, so I’m going to see if a $15 gold boat stencil will do the trick.  I can do it but it’d cost me my sanity, I think, and several hours.  This is the best one I could find. I wanted gold but all this company had was dark yellow.  Other companies had the gold but the letter choices sucked, and the one in England was going to charge over $50 so forget that.

The yellow will be just about fine, I think.  Unless it should be white.  I dunno.

Here's the transom:

And here's the letters (42' wide, 4' high:

When it goes into the water, I have about 2 weeks to sand and varnish the spars. Ad then of course we’re into September.

It’s funny; I now know just about every plank and nail and peculiarity of this boat, but I cannot picture myself on it under sail.  I stand on the deck and look down toward the bow, trying to gauge whether this is a small boat or an incredibly huge one, sailing-wise.  I have no idea.  I keep getting the feeling of this immense power, and all that old wood, everything straining in the wind, and the big keel and all those rocks in Fishers Island Sound just waiting to get a crack at it . . . I want Jeff to get in the water but I fear the next step.

Especially if I’m involved in it.

poco a poco . . .

Although I took a trip to Mexico, the days I was gone were not marked by idleness.  Paul came by a put in a big fat Dutchman, which Don helped me plane and sand so it now looks like this with primer—pretty good even for a 5-foot paint job.

And I painted the port side and the stern—and ran out of green.  So tomorrow more green will come.

Paul also finished reefing out both sides of the stem and will put cotton in there, as well as parts of the deck, which I have started to fill in with trowel cement. Which I am going to run out of.  Paul says there's more . . . somewhere in the bowels of his cobwebby basement, no doubt.  I can only do this after 2pm when the sun stops beating down on the deck, so I get about 1.5 hours in per day.

Still no helpers.

But the only other awful part is the reefing of the keel, which judging by Paul’s deflated “oh, it's you” whenever I call him, will be the worst part.

The gold leaf turned gray, which I think means it soaked in, so I gave it another coat and will put some varnish on it.

Also started cleaning the bronze rub rail (which you can see lying on the deck in the photo above), with Brasso and a scotch brite, just to get the gunk off.  It’s gonna be brown, like bronze is, but at least it will be clean.