Jeff Brown . . . the next Julia Roberts?

 Thank goodness my cub photographer was on site to take these photos of the filming that happened in the Red Shed, known in the film as just "the boat house" I suppose. I asked Paul what the scene was about. He said that the character (I don't know if he's the main character/star, but he could be) is getting Jeff Brown ready to launch.

Ahahahahahaahahahahahaha!

Wouldn't that be nice?

And for those of you who are now captivated by this tale, please make checks payable to the Noank Historical Society (www.noankhistoricalsociety.org) so we can raise the 5 billion dollars necessary to make the old geezer pass his insurance survey. 

Here's the crew getting ready to shoot a "boathouse scene." The star is at left; note the bespoke opened toolbox at the bottom of the photo. Donated by Paul I suspect.

Down by the Town Dock is where they are filming a scene of a Jamboree; hence . . . yes, it really is there . . . a Ferris wheel.

Looks like a kinda crappy day to film a Jamboree, but there will possibly bee more shooting tomorrow, which is supposed to be nice.

Did I mention I filled out a form to be an extra? Sadly I did so too late, or I would probably have been cast, as "Waterfront Hag." Every movie needs one.

Hopefully more photos will follow. The producers said they'd give some to the historical society, and I'll post em here.  

Interestingly, some scenes from "Mystic Pizza" were filmed about 200 yards away at what used to be Ford's Lobsters, where--yes, you guessed it, Uncle Jack kept his dragger Star at the dock, and Sea Mew out on the mooring. I will have to find a photo  of them.

Hey, here's Star, in oh I don't know . . . 1985?  At the Seaport. All Jack's boats are destined to be movie stars!

Jeff Brown--Soon to be a Hollywood Star

 Geez, I  hope it doesn't go to his head!

So I learned last week that the Hallmark Channel is filming a movie in Stonington, Mystic and Noank called "Sand Dollar Cove," and one of the scenes, of a guy fixing a boat, will be filmed guess where and featuring you-know-who.

Here's an article on it. You too could be an extra.

https://patch.com/connecticut/madison-ct/hallmark-channel-movie-looking-hire-extras-shoreline

Come to think of it, so could I. What's to lose? You have to send 'em a photo though. I will be cast as "Seaside Hag."

Anyway, the production company has promised to send me photos of the filming of that scene (apparently I am not allowed to do it myself) so I will post them here once I get them.

What I'm hoping is that a) someone from the cast or crew falls in love with JB and writes the historical society a big fat check to repair him enough to pass his survey and get insured again, b) the buzz from the movie will help me with a grant to a maritime history preservation foundation, c) I can start a GoFundMe page (because believe me, it will take more that Paul and my ministrations to get Jeff out of the shed and back in the water, and d) well, I don't know what "d" is but it involves lots of money being thrown at my best wooden pal.

Stay tuned!!!

A year has come and gone, and with it, a promise of more help next spring . . .

Not much to report of thrills or derring-do in Jeff-land this summer, although I never did get a photo of the beautiful sanding and varnish job that Paul’s friend Dave did on the boom, bowsprit and jib club this year. Just as well; I clipped the boom on the wire shroud of a boat at anchor on my way up the river; we were trying to protect Jeff from the upcoming storm.  Sounded like someone had taken a pickaxe to the inside of a Steinway. Suffice it to say, I did more damage than the storm did.  It was not my finest hour. Paul was philosophical, although a bit silent. He then proclaimed that Uncle Jack would have shrugged it off as a sort of “live and learn” moment in sailing too close to someone else.  Someone else who was thank god not present to witness it. I tell you, friends, I wanted to die. Worst of all, I made a 3” gouge in Dave’s beautiful varnish work. Paul went back later and assured me that the other boat didn't suffer even a smidgen. Wire is resilient like that. I, as you might expect, did not return to the scene of the crime, even in my kayak. 

But we had many other disaster-free adventures, and then Jeff got his rig taken off, as usual, and he is now hauled out waiting to be brought to a (gasp) indoor location this winter so I can get a jump on repairs (listen to me--repairs, as if I know what I'm doing), which I’m hoping will include attention to the deck that I always run out of time to take down to bare wood and make nice and smooth and crud-free.

 Jeff waiting to get hauled out. I can't believe this photo was taken just 3 weeks ago. There's now 6" of snow on the ground. You can sort of see the snazzy varnished bowsprit--I haven't destroyed that yet.

 

But what do we hear?  The faint whisper of potential help this coming year?

Yes, we have heard it before, and it materializes briefly, then disappears like a spring mist, a will-o'-the-wisp.

But the potential helper showed himself today, and enthusiastically discussed the sad state of Jeff’s rail, and the need for it to come off, get repaired or rebuilt I’m not sure which, and then re-fastened onto something that did not equal rotting wood.  Which would be fabulous.  You know how I have complained bitterly about those scupper holes and that whole sorry mess between the deck and the rail.

So, vamos a ver, as they say. Help may show up . . . and then again, it may not.

But hopefully I’ll be a little better about documenting the progress this year.  In truth, though, how many more photos of painting and fairing the hull could you stand?

The 3rd year’s the charm . . . so they say

 Jeff Brown arrived in my yard a little late this year, what with the rain that wouldn’t stop and then 14 minutes of spring that kept Bruce hopping until Jeff and I couldn’t stand it anymore, and convinced him to step away from the travel lift and drag Jeff down to my house for his 3^rd year of refurbishment.

Paul says it takes 3 years of paint on the hull before the planks don't show through and the topsides look all smooth. I am willing to believe that.

There’s a couple of spots of rot on the hull but apart from that, it’s back to business as usual.

See that little dark spot about 8" to the right of the bowsprit chainplate (or whatever it's called)?  That is the hole. Not awful, but still unnerving. Bring on the epoxy!

Sanded and painted the bottom last week—before more rain set in.

 

 Louisa from the Historical Society has a knack of making me look about as dorky as I can get--someday I'm gonna make her photograph me with my hair down and in an evening gown--but still with a paintbrush in my hand.

 Jeff has a new pal—Dave the pilot, who helped us step the mast last year. He took the blocks home over the winter and refinished them—snazzy!  He’s also doing the boom and the jib club so all the spars will be done this year.

 

I still would like to take the deck down to wood but who knows when I’ll get around to it.

Barnacles the size of buffalo teeth.  Jeff no longer has a worm shoe so this is what shows up to party during the summer.

The rudder looks like crap, and I took all kinds of gook out of it, but Paul says he has heard of a new remedy, recommended by "the boys at the boat yard,” wherever that is, it’s not like we have a limited supply of 'em around here.  The miracle unguent is, apparently, (wait for it) Crisco cooking fat. You can fill the cracks with it and it makes a nice water-tight seal between one piece of wooden crud and the other, and it expands and contracts with the wood.  Plus, it’s organic so doesn’t hurt the fishies.  I have my doubts, but who can argue with the boys at the boat yard? Praise be unto them if this works.

If you can't join the party from the mooring . . .

. . . watch it from the shore, that's what Jeff Brown will be doing.  Bruce (my new idol) got this idea yesterday, since he feared a quick descent to the bottom-o-the-cove if we just threw Jeff in the water and dragged him out to the mooring.  He has to sit in the straps for a few days, for the electric pumps to do their work.  He normally has three solar pumps  but Bruce made that sort of waterfront-skeptical face that I am learning to recognize in these old maritime types, and I trusted his judgment.  Was just abut to give up when he shows up at the house and outlines his plan: why not bring it down to the town dock, where there is going to be a celebration for Emma C. Berry's big 150th-birthday weekend--and the 50th anniversary of the Historical Society, and the two old things could attend the party together.
So that's what we did.

Here's Emma all refurbished and coming down the Mystic river to Noank, ready to go through the bridge.  Louisa Watrous took this great photo.


Louisa was also standing on the original railway where Emma was launched when she took this photo.
 

And from the sublime to the fairly-ingenious: here's Jeff getting towed down to the Town Dock:

and here's Bruce sliding Jeff into his temporary party spot (the sunbathers were mildly amused.  You can see the Argia going by in the background.)
















 
Party time! Emma C. Berry is to the left.  And the weather is perfect-- they're both ready for their close-ups.

I just hope Paul doesn't have a cow.  We couldn't find him to ask if this was okay, but I've got oatmeal cookies ready, to soften the surprise. Paul was on the crew of the Berry when she was sailed from New Jersey to the Seaport after she was donated in 1969.  This is a very big day, and I'm so glad Jeffie gets to be part of it.

Queen of the Parade

Paul says this year we should put Jeff in the Memorial Day Parade.  Which should be a hoot, since here the parade goes through the village, which consists of three streets, and people just march in it. Or run in it, or walk,  It’s pretty laid back.  I think there’s a fire truck.  And of course the Historical Society marches, so that’s why Paul wanted JB.  Bruce will pull it on the trailer.  It'll be festooned with bunting, I’ll bet.  Apparently Jeff Brown’s done the parade route before. But everyone who is not walking in the parade will be sitting in their lawn chairs at much closer than my “10-foot paint job” of last year. But there’s only a week to go and things have been slow with all the rain every weekend. 

Last week I tackled the bronze rubrail.

And for those of you who think that you can shine bronze, think again.  I tried everything: vinegar, salt, flour, ketchup, then back to straight vinegar, and while it got off a bit of the goo with a good scrubbing from bronze wool, it was right back again the next day, minus the green bits, which was what I really wanted to get off. 

Now, this year I have two tricks up my sleeve in re: Fooling the Public. One is the bizarre paint I got from the same hardware store guy who threw the bronze wool across the store when I asked him why it was better than steel wool if it was heavier grade.  He’s a bit of a drama queen.  But I told him what happened last year with the gold leaf that I used on the wood rubrail (turned to crap overnight, even after I varnished it) and he led me to an odd little item by Rustoleum called “hammered gold” which he used on his lawn furniture. Now, it turns out that when applied, the mottled patina of this paint almost matches the nasty-ass job I did on the bronze rubrail.

So I was so darned pleased with myself I painted the lower part of the bronze chainplates that hold the shrouds tight (they’d always been painted to match their topside color) plus the whatsis at the bow that holds the bowsprit on.
 

Should I look up what that term is?

Sigh.

Be right back.

Well, the closest I can find is a blog called “First Time Wooden Boat Builder—Sames Sound 12 1/2” by a guy named Paul in Ireland who is building a sailboat and he put in an eye bolt so he could pull the boat onto a trailer. You can see his fancy whatsis here.

But my whatsis does not hold the boat to the trailer, it is more like the stem chainplate for the . . . um . . . whisker shrouds? I think that's it. The bronze wires that attach to the bowsprit. Yup, I'm going for that.
.

This year, I fear that Jeff Brown will look like the maritime equivalent of a drag queen.

Reefing the garboard seam, or, "rank amateurs with sharp objects"

So Paul brought back all the old friends—the 3 sanders, the sandpaper, the scrapers . . . and two new visitors, called reefing irons.  Now you may think, friends, that I would instinctively know what to do with these things, but I assure you I did not. 

 




Here are my three new buddies. As you can see, it’s nothing but the most modern of equipment for me! On the left is my grandfather’s scraper, then what I call “the hoof pick," then what’s cleverly called the “reef hook.”  It has many interesting edges, and darned if all of them don't have a purpose—and I used ‘em all.

This is Jeff’s keel . . . looking okay from far away, but up close was another story.

At the end of the day, however, I had progressed from novice to acolyte, if only by virtue of being able to do the limbo under the axles of the trailer to twist my body into the right angle to whack the iron with the hammer and push the rubber caulk out of the seam.

Tapping away was rather satisfying, only Paul has implied that I have to get a flashlight and look to see if any more caulk is left there.  Then you have to scrape some more, which I did with what I began calling “the hoof pick,” because I cannot find what this particular one is called.   

 

And the internet is no help—do you know there is not one video about reefing?  Noooooo, only filling the nice, perfect seams with nice, perfect caulk.

I have no idea if I did this right.  I will have to wait for Inspection.

 “Don’t touch the cotton or the oakum,” Paul warned.  Two problems.  First, what the $#@! is oakum? It sounds like a nice warm breakfast beverage but it is not, oh no, it is in this case a mass of wet, stringy greenish-brown goo resembling what’s in the bottom of a hash pipe—not that I would know.

Second, the oakum at times was so close to the surface that chipping out the caulk means yanking out the oakum.  What to do?  Stuff it back in the hole? I know that cotton (which was also up there in spades) needs to be rolled, and then twisted just so, and pushed up with a talent reserved for only the virtuosos of the maritime repair world. But I confess, I just stuffed it back up there. However, I still don’t know how we are going to caulk this seam if oakum is level with the wood.  There’s just so much stuffing of that crap you can do after 50 years.

Did you know that a lot of prison labor in Victorian times included the making of oakum, or the separating of the strands of rope to create it?  Doesn’t seem so bad of a job—beats working on a chain gang—but I guess it was pretty nasty. Contemporary oakum is made from hemp or jute and usually has some type of tar on it.  But if my oakum had tar on it at one point, it has long since abandoned ship.

Anyway, this is what it looked like coming out of the seam of Jeff Brown.

 

What not to do: oakum wants to escape, but you must not let it.

Here’s a bit of what the crevices look like, post-reef.

I admit I did not do the greatest of jobs on the bottom last year—it really needs a good scraping. Well, cadal, cadal as they say in Kosovo (a land not known for boating); little by little.

Just found a YouTube video of what may lie in store for me, and I think I will take to my bed with the vapors:

Commodores Boats caulking garboard seam with hawsing iron and beetle

Shipwrights Terry & Dwight working on the classic tug "Viking King" owned by Harken Towing. Location "Shelter Island Marina" in Richmond BC Canada.

Just kill me now.

 

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.

Jeff Brown and Bob Marley: Separated at Birth?

This weekend I worked my butt off to paint the part of the starboard topsides that I could while staying out of Paul’s way so he could fasten the planks to the stem.  But I didn’t mind it because I was laughing the whole time.  Paul had dropped off some paint, and it was the most marvelous stuff I had ever painted with (Interlux, I love thee), especially the gold leaf.  It was so bright I had to keep the can out of the sun because it was blinding me.

These photos are after one coat.  I did the second coat today.

Still have more to do on the deck but I really wanted to see how this looked.

Frankly, I think it looks like a Rastafarian pirate ship.

Hope Uncle Jack is not rolling over in his grave.  Or twisting with the tide around Ram Island, where he technically is.

Mario the cat’s new favorite sunning spot.

I have to put more fairing compound on the transom and then sand and paint it quick so the name can be painted on.  Paul says there’s a woman who loves to paint boat names.  She can have at it.

Perhaps gold leaf this time . . .

The incantation of whining has forced progress on the deck

I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday.

It looks as if nobody else is going to help with Jeff Brown.  There he sits in my yard, waiting to go into the water, and the days have been gorgeous!  So much time he could have spent on his mooring, being the envy of tourists, fiberglass boat owners, and lovers of old Noank sloops.  (the Mysic wooden boat show is this weekend—he should be out there at the mouth of the river showing off!) As a matter of fact, Chip Anderson’s boat Winsome just got an article published on it in the paper. Chip and I are in the same boat (ahahahaha) in that Winsome isn’t in the water yet either.  Chip says that the designer of Jeff Brown (back in 1888) was also the designer for the plans for Winsome, which makes sense since they are both the “Noank sloop” model, quite famous here.  But who gets the glory?  Not Jeffie and I, noooooooo.

So yesterday when Paul came over I gave him an earful about not having enough time (which I don’t), and it being too hot to sand the deck (which it is) and that none of the sanders worked well enough to get it smooth (which they don’t) and the heat gun wouldn’t get the paint off easily enough (which it didn’t) and that I was just about as sick as I could be with this project (which I am) and what was he going to do about it.

Actually the coup de grace came the day before yesterday when, fighting with the 8” disc sander, it flew out of my hands and bit me on the leg.  That was the end of the 8” disc sander.

Or so I thought.

Paul is an old water rat and nothing fazes him, especially a hysterical woman whining about a boat.  He then said “Well, if it were me I would have just slapped a coat of paint on it and put it in the water, but you wanted it all smooth . . .” at which point I wanted to smack him but I refrained, and said “Is that really okay?  To just paint it even if it’s lumpy?”  He said “Fine with me.”

I also asked if I could sand and prime in sections so I wouldn’t get too discouraged, since the frigging paint peels right up again if you leave your nice sanded work for a day without priming.

He said sure.

He also said he’d come by this weekend and “see what he could do” in re: the 8” disc sander which he thinks will work like a charm on this deck.

I followed him down the driveway vowing that I could undo his cheery and positive attitude if I tried hard enough, but he just chuckled and got in his truck.

So last night I dragged all 3 sanders, Papa Bear, Medium 5” Bear, and Detail Bear, up with me on the deck along with the primer, a broom, and a dental pick, and, holding all VERY firmly, sanded the bejeezus out of the area from the prow to the whatsis—the metal bar that holds the jib line and lets it slide back and forth.

Bow not so bad.  Note the whatsis.  What IS that thing called???

You can see what kind of a fun time Jeff is going to have with me at the tiller, can’t you?

Anyway, when I was done I was quite proud—the sanding job proved way smoother than I thought it would be (I made sure to use "Mr Green"--an 8" disk so nubby I thought it was going to cut right through to the hold), a section was done, and I am looking forward to section #2—all the way to the front of the hatchway.  Then on to caulking, which I am getting quite good at, and doesn't involve any round 8" discs leaping out of my hands and aiming for my shins.

Paul has also promised to bring paint soon so I can do the parts he is not farting around with (like the stem).

I realize that I do this a lot, this response of mine—it has been a lifelong habit—scream and kick and whine and say I  can’t do it it’s too hard, then breathe a little, look at the thing again, wade in, and it’s never as bad as I think it will be.  But why do I still need the screaming and kicking part?  It’s almost like a ritual, a spell.  The incantation of whining, to insure a positive outcome.

There must be a pill for this.

Transom almost done . . . and a visit from the Master

It has been a rainy week, but a Sisyphus-like despair more than anything has kept me from picking up the enormously heavy Bosch 5” sander and re-sanding for the millionth time the battered hull of poor Jeffie.  However, this weekend brought progress, if not joyful things.

I finally stripped, sanded and primed (1st coat) the $%$#@! transom (thank you Maynard Bray and the how-to book of Sanding and Painting for the Truly Anal-Retentive), and now the trowel cement must do its magic. 

Paul has reversed his earlier dictum of “no sanding after the trowel cement goes on,” which I ignored anyway since I found that there were spots I had not alcoholed off that could be sanded/feathered right out.  Plus, I had to put another wad of it in all the seams.

 The four errant planks have been re-fastened to the stem, but Paul now has to put the cotton back in and apparently do it on the other side—which I conveniently troweled right over.  He tried to teach me how to “listen” for loose planks with a plastic (electrician’s) hammer, but I did not get the hang of it (apparently safe-cracker is not a good choice for me for future employment).

After I fill up the cracks in the transom, there’s nothing left for it but to tackle the evil deck, since I have been deserted by my one helper and my tentative second helper has only given me a “maybe” on Facebook.

The good thing about the deck is that gravity can do some of the work, and the sanding should not be so bad.  Except for the bulwark.  That way madness lies.

Paul has been vacuuming out the keel, which in my mind points to a reefing out of the keel soon.

If Jeff does not go in by August I’ll fill up the hold with water and drown myself.

But wait! Time for more epoxy!

Just when Nora and I thought we were ready to get out the big guns (8" disc sanders and white paper suits) Paul comes along and starts poking holes in poor Jeffie.  Granted, they were holes that needed poking, and now I am filling them up properly (if one can properly fill a hole instead of replacing the entire plank, but wouldn't that be a treat) and in the meantime Nora continues to chip away at "her" section (the deck).

Then it's time to screw some loose planks in near the stem, and after the first sanding of the sides . . . more bondo!  Apparently one has to make the sides "fair," and in some places, the  only way to do this is to cheat.
So be it!

Today it is raining so no sanding for us.
We only have to strip the stern, and then the topsides are free of the heat gun.
Poor thing looks quite "shabby chic" now . . .

Caulked and ready to sand (for the 5th time)

Today I am on the prowl for 8" sanding discs. The hull sanding will send me straight into the pulmonary ward, I am sure.
Nora has been scraping the deck.
Paul promises doing something technical to the place where the hull meets the keel and the stem.  It involves cotton, and a tool that looks like a hoof pick.
Apparently it is an art, and though I have become an Acolyte epoxy and caulk applier, I really need the hazing ritual and the secret handshake to repair this particular seam.
Which, since it's the part that keeps the thing afloat, is probably a good thing.

It’s hell on a manicure

  Today Paul showed me how to caulk the spaces between the bulwark and the first rubrail/rail strake.  There were some honking big cracks. Which I filled. Then you have to go over the caulk with paint thinner to feather it in and make sure the caulk gets in the cracks.

 Even though I wore rubber gloves the thinner wore right through them--thank goodness I did not like my new nail polish.  Now there is just a little more epoxying to do, thanks to some holes I missed, and Paul has to make a Dutchman for the big mother all holes, and then it’s time to prime the top.

Paul has some gold paint which I am going to paint the lower rubrail with, instead of sanding it down and varnishing it—I will never get all that black paint out.  Paul is being genial but you can tell he does not think it is a great idea.  “It’s a WORK boat!” he keeps telling me.  Well, yes, but a work boat can have a little sparkle.

Nora came over today and scraped the deck a bit.  I was heat-gunning more green paint, and realized that the boat should be re-named the Bondo Brown—the hull is 1/3 epoxy, and do you know how hard it is to get paint off of epoxy without shearing off half of it?

But here it is (on the side I did not heat-gun today), caulked and bulwark/sheer strake sanded.  This had better end soon!

 

I [heart] the heat gun

 Merciful Jesus the heat gun portion of our show is over, at least for the time being. It has taken me this long to hack all the paint from the bulwark and the moulding below that, and then I had to take off the brass rail strakes (how I did not break them is a miracle) and whack off all that crud underneath (and did you notice how cavalierly and with what panache I am now slinging about the nautical terminology? Who knew I would ever get to use the phrase “rail strake” in a sentence?).  Anyway, Paul brought over the detail sander and I must say it is a dandy thing, and so much easier to sand now that 90% of the paint is off.  I can tell that the lower rub rail was varnished, and if I am feeling frisky I will try to get all the paint off that and see if it can be re-varnished. Paul just looks at me with one eye shut and a snide grin when I say these things. 

I'm trying to scrape off to about 5" below the last rub rail just to have a space to work in on the black 

(and soon to be red) part. It was coming off so easy here I just went down one whole plank.

But Maynard Bray says in “Painting and Varnishing” (which Don sent to me last week) to not let the wood sit too long before you prime and paint it, so I’m stopping here and sanding what I’ve done, then painting it before I tackle the topside.  Which I have to say is scads easier than the black stuff was.  The paint just peels right off.  Which may not be saying a good thing about the previous green paint job.  But the black part--phenomenal.

Boy, it looks like crap now but I think it will feel much better when all this is over!

Before any painting gets done, though, Paul has to come over with about 5 gallons of epoxy and a million wood plugs, since I seem to keep knocking them out of the planking.  I do hope Uncle Jack is not rolling over in his . . . mud flat, I guess, off of Ram Island.