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Wednesday

Continuing with the removal of the old steering system, I turned to the quadrant bolted to the rudder shaft.  This was held in place with a machined keyway, and the two-piece aluminum quadrant was secured together with four machine bolts plus two through bolts.  Fortunately, all six bolts came out without major effort, releasing the quadrant.  The key was well stuck to the quadrant and came out on its own.  I sprayed some penetrating oil on the stuffing box nuts to let them soak for a while so I could eventually service the packing and/or drop the rudder for some needed repairs.

The lack of proper rudder stops (as I mentioned earlier, the rudder stop assembly I recently removed had been installed apparently upside down) was directly responsible for the damage at the top edge of the rudder, since the rudder, even with the pedestal steering, could be turned too far to each side.  This caused the rudder to hit the  hull at its inward edge, causing, over time, the damage seen to the top of the rudder blade.  I’d have to install some sort of proper stop system for the new tiller-driven steering later, and hoped to drop the rudder at least partially out in order to effect the repairs to the top of the blade.  All this to be determined in due course.

Since I was in the cockpit lockers anyway, I finished up the removal of several through hulls, including the engine exhaust and bilge outlets and yet another transducer.  I’d already cut off the tops of these fittings, but now I worked to remove the remainders and the backing plates, when installed.

I drained the icebox of its moldering contents, and quickly cleaned up the interior a bit.  The two icebox lids were beyond salvage, full of disgusting moldy saturated wood and foam, and I threw them away rather than worry about attempting to rebuild them, as their construction was hardly worth emulating anyway.

Meanwhile, I removed the galley sink drain through hull, a small through hull from the engine room, and yet another transducer located beneath the port settee in the main cabin.  I’d patch all these openings later once I got into the repair stage of the project.

The cockpit scuppers and galley sink drains featured bronze mushrooms and that were fiberglassed to the hull from within.  The easiest way to remove these fittings was to drill them out with a hole saw, but first I needed a way to center the bit in the opening.  To this end, I masked over the outsides of the openings, then filled inside with a thickened epoxy mixture, leaving it to cure.  This only had to provide a solid-enough plug for starting the hole saw once cured.  My epoxy was a little looser than I’d planned and wanted to run out of the steeply-angled scupper fittings, but a little masking tape helped stem the flow.

In the main cabin bilge, I wiped out as much gunk and chunks as possible, then decided to add cleaner and soak the bilge for a couple days, hoping to loosen the accumulated grime.  The detergent didn’t suds as much as I’d expected, but with some agitation on and off during the rest of the week the soak might have a positive impact.

Finally, I disassembled the propeller shaft stuffing box, which I’d removed with the shaft still stuck inside earlier, and tossed the remnants of the shaft.  I expected to clean up and re-use the stuffing box assembly later.

With most disassembly chores now behind me and at a logical stopping point for the moment, I decided to grab the opportunity afforded by better-than-expected weather outside to work on an ongoing mast project and enjoy the fine spring-like conditions for the remainder of the afternoon.

Total time billed on this job today:  4.75 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  32°, cloudy.  Forecast for the day:  Rain or snow shower, then mainly cloudy, 40s (it ended up being sunny and mid-50s in the afternoon)

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Tuesday

Getting started in the main cabin, I removed the door trim  from the opening between the main and forward cabins, removing the trim from both sides and maintaining the pieces for reference in creating replacements later.

This freed up the old Formica covering on the bulkhead, and now I removed this, as it was poorly adhered and generally in poor condition.  The plywood bulkhead beneath, made up of two layers of plywood secured together to cover the large space, looked to be in sound condition.  This bulkhead does not carry rigging loads, and was not tabbed at the overhead or otherwise secured there beyond a pair of wooden blocks bolted through the coachroof at the corners, and to which the bulkhead was bolted.  This, along with the trim when installed, held the top edge of the bulkhead more or less rigid.  The after bulkhead at the forward end of the engine room was similar in its installation.

I removed the baseboard trim from the main cabin, then turned to the head area and removed all the trim from within, including the final piece of the original companionway ladder trim that I’d attempted to remove before, which I found had additional screws securing it from behind one of the head trims.

I was more than ready to be done with the steering pedestal.  It cluttered up the cockpit and didn’t allow good access fore and aft, as the wheel was large enough as to prohibit access around the edges without standing on the seats, and it was about the last major installation standing in the way of other progress.  Before I could remove it, though, I needed to remove the steering cables.  In the starboard side locker, the original fiberglass fuel tank stood in the way, and needed to be removed anyway, so I decided to go ahead with that.

First, though, since the owner and I had talked about creating an access hatch through the large poop deck, both for better light and access to the aft part of the boat as well as for increased convenient storage, I decided now was the perfect time to cut an opening.  After inspecting the deck from below to locate anything that might stand in the way of or limit the size of the new opening, I marked out a rectangle on deck, staying a few inches aft of the traveler location.  I cut out the hatch with a saw, revealing plywood core in sound condition though with some top-skin delamination at one edge.  I might enlarge the opening later, but for now it allowed in light and air and made continued work in the aft lockers more enjoyable tolerable.

The fuel tank was tabbed to the hull along its two exposed edges (outboard and forward), and while the gauge read nearly empty, I decided to look inside, since there was a little access port there, which had only one screw securing it along with (what else) silicone sealant.  Clearly this hatch had leaked over the years, as the top of the tank showed plenty of leakage evidence.  Removing the hatch, I confirmed there was just a small amount of fuel in the tank, so I could proceed without having to pump out the contents.  With a reciprocating saw, I cut the fiberglass nipples for the vent and fill hoses at the aft end, then cut the tabbing along the hull, releasing the tank.

The tank was just too large, it seemed, to twist out of the cockpit locker opening, but fortunately it fit over the divider bulkhead and through the head, and I gladly removed it down to the shop floor.  With the tank gone, I found my two sets of Vice-Grips that I’d lost in the inaccessible void beneath the tank when I was removing deck hardware back in September.

With better access now, I turned back to the steering system.  A hefty plywood platform was secured across the two structural members just above the steering quadrant, and served no purpose now; actually, it had served no purpose ever, that I could tell, since it appeared to have been installed upside down.  I think it was meant as a support for cast iron rudder stops, to prevent overturning, but these faced upwards and did nothing to limit rudder movement.   In any event, the platform limited access to the quadrant, and while access was possible with it in place, since it served no further purpose I decided to remove it. The platform was secured with angle brackets on both sides, and with the fuel tank gone I could easily  (using the term relatively) access the starboard side bolts and remove them.

Moving to the other side, I removed the nuts from the bracket, but couldn’t easily remove the bolts since the long bolts hanging down from the platform itself were in the way.  So I cut through the platform just inboard of the bracket, making it easier to remove in two pieces.  This exposed the steering quadrant to make additional work more convenient.

The steering cables were attached with fussy little half-hidden eye bolts, which in the original installation allow for tension adjustment of the cables.  After working on one of these for a few minutes, my impatience got the better of me and I cut through both cables with my saw, just so I could get the pedestal out.  I’d come back later and work on removing the two-piece quadrant from the shaft (though it caused no particular harm if left in place), but for now I was ready to unbolt and remove the pedestal itself.  The four nuts securing the pedestal guard bases were easy to remove, and I pushed the bolts up from beneath.

I couldn’t remove the large aluminum nuts from beneath the pedestal from beneath:  the bolts turned.  So I clamped the nuts with Vice-Grips and tried loosening from above, using an impact gun on the slotted heads.  This worked for  two of the bolts, but on the other two the aluminum slots spun out.  I drilled out the remaining two heads, which was easy enough since they were aluminum, then snapped (in one instance) or cut off (t’other) the bolts and nuts from beneath, releasing the steel bottom plate and bronze cable sheaves, and then allowing me to remove the pedestal from above.

What a nice openness the pedestal removal gave the cockpit.  It’s a small cockpit well, and the helm dominated the space.

Total time billed on this job today:  7.5 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  12°, clear.  Forecast for the day:  Mainly sunny with increasing clouds late in the day, around 50°

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Monday

Hoping to disassemble the top part of the steering pedestal, I removed the compass to expose the innards.  The long screws securing the compass binnacle to the top of the pedestal–stainless steel into aluminum–were heavily stuck in place with corrosion and I couldn’t budge them, so I soaked them in penetrating oil for the moment.  Meanwhile, I failed yet again to pull the wheel off the shaft despite massive pressure on the gear pulling tool.  I abandoned the disassembly for now and, while I was in the cockpit, removed a few last bits of hardware from the cockpit well, including the locker latches, the old manual bilge pump, and the engine stop cable.

Earlier, the owner and I had discussed the fate of the pedestal, and he indicated a possible interest in converting to tiller steering rather than attempt to revive or replace the wheel steering.  Given the current state of the pedestal, I decided it was time to confirm this choice, and some other pressing questions, and later, after a phone conference, he made the decision that the tiller conversion was his choice.  Fortunately, this looked to be a straightforward conversion, since the rudder shaft already extended above the cockpit seat, where it had been covered with a nice little teak seat, and there was even a keyway machined into the shaft, ready to accept a tiller head.,

Since I now knew the pedestal wouldn’t be reused or require more work from me, I abandoned the disassembly and planned to soon remove the pedestal entirely from beneath.  In the meantime, I got back to work in the cabin removing the rest of the trim.  I discussed the condition of the trim with the owner, and he agreed that since much of the old teak was dark, stained, and dirty, as well as damaged in several places and generally nothing special to begin with, it made sense going forward to consider replacing the trim with a new wood of his choice rather than expend extensive effort carefully saving each piece of trim in the boat, then refinishing and reinstalling it all.  While I planned to save any trim pieces that were worthwhile for another use, many of the small, thin pieces would require more effort to remove than to replace, and this streamlined the dismantling of the interior since I didn’t have to spend a lot of time on great care.

Beginning in the forward cabin, I removed the large fiddles around the edges of the berth, then removed the ceiling strips from the hull, a laborious process with many screws.

At the after end of the space, I removed the trim from inside the forward hatch (which was to be replaced with a new, modern deck hatch), and removed all the trim from around the aft end of the berths and hanging lockers.  The plywood main bulkhead was covered with high pressure laminate, which seemed largely loose and, once I removed some final trim around the large door to the space, looked to be relatively easily removable.  This would be required since the existing surface was in poor condition and not worthy of re-use.

Later, on deck, I removed the forward hatch trim, leaving the raw opening in the deck.  The exposed core in the cutout was in good condition to the extent visible.

In the main cabin, I removed the two sliding doors from the opening to the forward cabin.  I’d remove the rest of the door trim in the near future.  For now, I noted details for future reconstruction.

In mid-afternoon, the new bronze garboard drain I’d ordered arrived, and I spent a few minutes installing it right away, to give the sealant time to cure and so I could move on with the full-soak bilge cleaning later in the week.  After removing the bottom paint and other coatings from the area, I expanded the small drain hole I’d created earlier, keeping the new hole as low as I could, then prepared fastener holes, drilling and tapping for #10 machine screws.  Then I installed the new fitting with plenty of polyurethane sealant (4200), securing it with four bronze screws.  Inside, since I had access, I added nuts to the insides of the screws.

I spent the remainder of the day removing most of the trim in the main cabin, including bulkhead trim and fiddles.

Total time billed on this job today:  7.25 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  14°, clear.  Forecast for the day:  Sunny, 41°

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Friday

Before pulling the engine from the boat, I had a little setup to  finish up, starting with moving my large gantry crane from the other shop bay, something I usually liked to avoid but in this instance there was no option.  With the ground frozen overnight, moving the crane outdoors from one bay to the other was at least possible; soft ground makes it impractical.  I shuffled staging horses and other stuff in the shop to make room for the crane to roll back above the companionway.

Inside the boat, I built a simple ramp, made from an old plank and some blocking, running from the engine room door to the head door beneath the companionway.  I’d  use this to slide the engine forward once I had it out of the engine room.

To lift the engine, the only direct overhead access was through a little recess in the cockpit seat, designed for a compass or, on this boat with a pedestal compass, to twist one’s ankles unexpectedly.  I drilled a large hole through the center of the recess, which allowed me to drop the hook from my hoist right through.  The hole would be easy to patch later.  I attached a short chain to the two lifting points on the engine, and I was ready to go.

Pulling the engine was actually much less of an issue than I’d anticipated.  With all connections to the boat already severed, it was a cinch to lift the engine, and fortunately there was ample room in the overhead hole as well as overhead clearance to allow me to pull the engine sideways and forward till I got it balanced on the plank, at which time I could slide it safely into the head.  I had to twist the engine slightly through the engine room door to accommodate the mounting flanges, but the process was quick and painless.  After unhooking, I slid the engine forward down my plank till it was beneath the companionway opening.

Moving the crane and rehooking the lift chain, I prepared to pull the engine out the companionway.    I knew the engine couldn’t fit directly through the doorway opening, and my first inclination was to remove the two wide mounting flanges from the port side of the engine.  Lifting the engine till it hung,  and I could turn it to access the bolts, I made an attempt to release the rusty fasteners, but to no immediate avail.  I imagine I could and would have succeeded, but eyeballing things now it looked like I might be able to twist the engine through this opening too, as long as I did it backwards (transmission first).  This worked!

Now it was straightforward to lift the engine up and over the companionway, and I lowered it to the floor and a waiting cart.

After taking advantage of still-frozen (barely) ground outdoors to move the crane back to the other side, as I didn’t want it cluttering up the main work bay, I got back to work in the engine room.  I threw a mess of rags into the bilge to soak up the remaining water, and focused on removing the old engine foundation.  Inspecting this now that the engine was out of the way, I saw that there had been a repair/reinforcement to the port side of the rig, though even this had failed, with the steel foundation cracked through just forward of the port forward mount.

The steel foundation was secured to the boat with three bolts through the forward bulkhead (the forward ends of these bolts were completely inaccessible, so I hoped the exposed nuts would come off without spinning the bolts), plus two lags driven through the tops of the foundation into a structural member attached to the hull, plus two carriage bolts securing a vertical flange to the same member.  The lags came out easily (they were wasted down to thin stubs), but of course the carriage bolt heads spun when I tried to loosen the nuts.  Fortunately there was ample screw length beyond the nut to allow me to clamp on with some locking pliers and loosen the nuts for removal.

Two of the three forward nuts came off with ease; for the final nut, and final fastener, I pried the whole foundation loose elsewhere, creating pressure on the stud that allowed me to loosen and remove the nut and remove the old foundation from the boat.

With decent access now, I cleaned up the ooze from the bottom of the bilge.  As soon as my new garboard drain arrived and I could install it, I planned to thoroughly soak and clean the bilges to remove accumulated oil buildup.

There was yet another transducer mounted in the hull directly beneath the old engine; this boat has more transducer fittings in the bottom than I’ve ever seen, at least 4.  I planned to remove them all and patch the holes later.

The waterlift muffler was bolted through a little wooden platform behind the engine.  With no future plans nor need for this, I sawed out the platform and removed the whole assembly and its remaining hoses.  At the same time, I removed three old frozen through hulls from the space, including the scuppers.  The old fittings were threaded on to bronze fittings glassed to the hull, and replacement of all these fittings, as required for future needs, was on the list, so for the moment I simply cut through the fittings near the hull to clear the way.

The aperture for the propeller was quite small, with barely 1/4″ tip clearance at the tops of the blades, and little room between the shaft and the rudder.  There was no way to pull the shaft out from here, as the rudder obviated a clear passage.  Hoping to remove the propeller, I set up my puller, which barely fit into place (my other puller designed for 2-blade props wouldn’t fit in the tight confines at all).  Using only two of the three bolts intended, I still thought I could pop the prop free, but instead one of the bolts sheared almost lengthwise, a sort of failure I found quite amazing.

With the prop still firmly stuck in place, and no anticipated need for this propeller in the new configuration anyway, I decided to cut the shaft from outside, which would allow me to remove it from inside the boat and get on with things.  The old stuffing box hose–a very long length that had extended from the bronze stern tube forward of the exhaust platform to give access to the stuffing box–was in poor condition, and I had to cut the after clamps and hose in order to remove it along with the remains of the shaft.

That was about it for the engine room for now, except for the old engine control cables dangling from the pedestal above.  I’d address that and the steering system in its entirety soon.  For now, I made an attempt to remove the wheel for better access, but so far this was firmly stuck in place on the shaft and with plenty of tension on a gear puller I still didn’t seem to be making progress.  I left this set up and hoped that continued pressure would help pull the wheel off the shaft.

Finally, with just a little time left and no desire to get into anything big, I decided it was a good time to remove the stem fitting securing the bobstay.  Access to the inside of the bolts was through a small hole in the chainlocker bulkhead, which wasn’t too bad to get to through the large storage area below the v-berth.  I clamped on vice-grips inside and removed the fasteners from outside without issue.  This fitting, like many others so far, was bedded (or not) in white silicone.

Total time billed on this job today:  7 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  20°, clear.  Forecast for the day:  Sun and clouds, 40°

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Thursday

My earlier work in the engine room above the deep and dirty, water-filled bilge had identified a pressing need to drain the water to make it easier to retrieve the tools that I seemed to to continually drop.  So to begin, I made a simple measurement to determine the depth of the bilge:  I measured from one of the scuppers down to the bottom, which enabled me to easily recreate the measurement outside the boat, where I drilled a small hole to release the bilge contents into a bucket.  I planned to install a bronze garboard plug in this location soon, which would help me soak, scrub, clean, and drain the bilge more easily.

Back in the engine room, I continued removing whatever ancillary parts I could in order to reduce the width of the engine for removal.  During the course of the morning, I removed the bracket for the heat exchanger, the bolt-on pulley-driven raw water pump (along with the raw water filter and extraneous hoses), the starter and solenoid, and the oil filter (which I had to remove for better access to the starter).  Elsewhere in the space, I removed the cockpit scupper fittings, which increased headroom, and the fuel filter and fuel lines.  This left the engine pretty well stripped down and about as small as it was going to get, though I reserved the possibility of removing the engine mounting flanges later if need be.

With access now pretty clear, I worked on the shaft/transmission coupling.  As usual, the biggest issue in removing the bolts on the coupling was the fact that clearance was so tight near the nuts that it was difficult to get a true purchase with a wrench, which caused slippage and rounding.  With some penetrating oil and plenty of elbow grease, I eventually removed three of the four bolts successfully, but the fourth nut had rounded badly so I cut it off with a reciprocating saw.

The last thing to do before the engine was ready to come out was remove the mounts.  I could have unbolted the flexible mounts from the steel frame that served as the engine foundation in the bilge, but I’d have to juggle two wrenches–one held awkwardly beneath the frame–to release these bolts, and there were eight total.  Instead, I thought I’d first try to remove the nuts holding the engine flanges to the flex mount studs–just four, and more readily accessible, though they were all rather rusty.  But with good access, I had quick success removing all four, which meant I could leave the flex mounts for later removal once the engine was out of the way.

I did a rough measurement of the width of the engine from widest point (the starter recess in the bell housing on one side) to widest point (a protrusion on the engine block on the other side), and it looked like about 17-1/2″.  The little door into the engine room was just barely wider than this, about 17-3/4″, but the opening to the head behind the companionway ladder/door was narrower.  This was poor design on the original builder’s part, since the fiberglass molding could easily have been made a bit wider to allow engine passage, without remotely compromising any of the other functions it served in this area, but so it was.  However, there was enough room between the center part of the structure and the settee itself to allow the engine through, though I might have to make a relief cut to expand the opening enough.

What definitely needed to happen, though, was to remove some or all of the trim from around the opening–and I also had to deal with access to and from the boat and the head/engine room now and throughout the project, not only to avoid traipsing up and down the teak ladder during the dirty phases of work, but also because there was no access in or out of the boat when the head door was opened–and this would be necessary for the next stage of engine removal.

I repurposed an old 2×4 construction ladder I’d built for some other project, and with minor modifications to the top end fit it in place over the head door and companionway to the cockpit.  This allowed me to remove the head door and companionway ladder for safekeeping, and the new construction ladder was easily moved as needed for access to and from the after part of the boat.

Now I removed the small trim from the outboard side of the doorway.  Drilling out the bungs and removing the screws was uneventful, but I found the trim was glued in place with silicone, though this didn’t cause any real issues here.  I ‘d not planned immediately to remove the inboard side of the trim–the heavier piece to which the door hinges had been installed–but I decided I might as well, to improve the width that much more.  After removing the bungs and screws, though, I found the piece was immobile, apparently glued in with more silicone.  I didn’t want to destroy the trim, so for now I just left it alone and determine what else needed to be done later, once I had the engine ready to come through the opening.

Total time billed on this job today:  7 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  31°, clouds and windy with intermittent light snow.  Forecast for the day:  Light snow in the morning, coating to a couple inches predicted, around 32°

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Wednesday

Finishing up some last hardware installations, I removed the port deck prism from above the galley.  Like its counterpart to starboard, the prism had some damage, and the deck around and spreading widely from the opening was badly deteriorated.

Beneath the galley, I clipped off the wiring harnesses and removed the remaining water supply hose and little electric pump, mainly clearing the space for now.  I’d pull out the wire and hose remnants from the engine room a little later, once I got to work back there.  The galley sink drain seacock was frozen closed, at least without a tool to move the valve, and in any event through hull replacement was on the work list for the project.  Despite the general appearance of the space, the bulkheads and tabbing, at least at first inspection, appeared to be sound with no immediate issues apparent.

On the coachroof, I removed a solar vent.  The exposed core in the cutout appeared sound overall.

To get it out of the way and prepare for upcoming replacement with a modern hatch, I removed the hinged part of the wooden forward hatch.  I’d removed the framework in due course.

The large wooden companionway sliding hatch was secured in place with two metal plates, which rode in grooves in the side rails.  I removed these, and removed the hatch.  The wooden hatch appeared to be built from a plywood base with teak overlay, and the external teak planking was in marginal condition.  The solid teak rails and related trim was in weathered but generally sound condition, with some minor damage noted.

In the cockpit, to free up access to the lockers, I removed the locker lids, which were barely secured with simple hinges.  The hatches themselves were fairly flimsy and could benefit from some reinforcement, but were otherwise sound enough, but the means of attachment to the boat would require some work.

At the forward end of the cockpit, beneath the bridgedeck, was an expansive display of ancient electronics, including the engine control panel, all covered in an elaborate frame and smoked acrylic cover.  I removed the cover and frame, then removed all the instruments.   I’d already clipped the wires from the other side during earlier work.   I had to drill out the screw heads on the anemometer, as this unit was bolted in place and the nuts inside were too close to the instrument itself to  get any sort of wrench on.  I’d no idea how someone managed to tighten them down in the first place.

Now I turned to the engine room, located beneath the cockpit and accessed through a door at the aft side of the head or through the cockpit lockers.  The cockpit locker areas, while generally expansive, were difficult to work in because of a series of tall, narrow dividers well-glassed in place–handy for securing locker contents, but tough to work around and surprisingly limiting of access to some areas.  While access to the engine itself was basically good and offered far more room and availability than the tiny engine rooms on many boats, there were still numerous impediments to the space, and there was no direct–or even close to direct–overhead access to the engine for lifting and removal.  All the while, however, I was turning over the process in my head, and though removal would be challenging, I was pretty sure I had a workable plan.  The owner planned on repowering with an electric motor, so at least I’d only have to get the old engine out and not worry so much about shoehorning in the replacement.

On the starboard side forward were two existing batteries, battery switch, and related wiring, and starting here I systematically cleared out the space, removing the batteries, clipping cables to the engine, and dismantling the wiring on this side of the boat.

While I was there, I also removed the nuts from a final chainplate set located here and removed the bronze chainplate from the hull.

Moving over to the port side, I removed all the old wiring from this side, and cleared out anything else I could, including removing the fasteners from the manual bilge pump and removing bilge and exhaust hoses from the space.   I’d expected to be able work on the port side of the engine while on this side, but found that the configuration of the cockpit locker dividers was such that access was nearly impossible from a practical standpoint, and I figured I’d have better luck coming in from the other side and lying atop the engine as needed.  Here also, I removed the after chainplate.  I see that I forgot to get an “after” photo of the bulkhead when I’d removed the wiring.

Back on the other side, and with most of the wiring out of the way, I began cleaning out the rest of the space, removing scupper hoses (these were pleasantly easy to remove) and stripping various parts from the engine to reduce its size for removal, including the heat exchanger, exhaust elbow and riser (these were nearly new and were easy to remove), control panel wiring harness, gear and throttle cables, and the alternator.  This began to open up the space considerably, and considering the condition of the rest of the boat, the engine itself seemed surprisingly well-maintained given its age, though starting from scratch in this space was most definitely the only answer.

I’d continue work in the space next time as I strove to get the boat cleaned out as soon as possible.

Total time billed on this job today:  7 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  18°, mainly clear with some high clouds.  Forecast for the day:  Increasing clouds, mid 30s.

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Tuesday

Continuing in the main cabin, I removed the ceiling strips from the starboard side, setting them aside for later attention.  I was still considering how much of the remaining trim to remove–fiddles, bulkhead trim, and the like–but for now I kept my focus on the major hardware and systems removal.  I was leaning towards removing all the trim for ease of interior preparations and trim refinishing, but I’d come back to that in the near future.

The full molded fiberglass deck liner was slightly different from side to side in terms of how much it hid the upper reaches of the hull, and on the starboard side access was a little better, so removing the ceiling here gave me the first good look at the hull-deck joint, which featured a molded inward hull flange, with the deck molding secured atop the flange.  There appeared to be adhesive or fiberglass between the hull and deck, and bronze bolts every 12″ or so.   Outside, the wooden toerails appeared to sit over the raised deck edge, hiding it from view, and the toerail fasteners looked to be screws that were not crucial to the hull-deck joint itself.  More on the toerails in due course, but as I worked around the boat it became increasingly clear that they were worn out, with exposed fasteners, gaping seams, and other issues, and that it would ultimately benefit the project to remove them for access to the hull-deck joint and for later replacement, possibly with a non-wood product to ease future maintenance concerns.  More on this coming up soon.

Now the chainplate fasteners were visible on both sides, and from inside the boat I removed the nuts, which mostly came off without spinning the bolts.  Where needed, I used locking pliers on the inside, then, from outside the boat, I removed the fasteners and the chainplates themselves.  The chainplates, made from cast bronze, were in good condition and would be reusable with only the most minor modicum of cleanup.

It was interesting to note that the port side was different from the starboard here.  There were multiple signs that the boat had been damaged on the port side, with easily visible repairs to the hull outside and at the toerail, and the fasteners and backing plates were different from side to side as well, with fiberglass backing plates to starboard (apparently original) and thin stainless steel backing plates to port.  None of this was a real surprise, but I found the differences interesting and worthy of note.  Obviously dealing with the previous rough repairs to the port side would form a significant part of the hull preparations to come soon.

The fowardmost set of chainplates on each side were located inside hanging lockers in the forward cabin, part of the molded interior structure that formed the basis of the entire interior layout.  For better access here, now and later, I began by removing the wooden cabinet doors from the lockers.

These lockers were deep and narrow, and the hull was at–or just beyond–the extent of my reach, one arm only as there was no way to get my shoulders through the locker openings.  To ease access on the port side, I started by removing the water fill hose, which was directly in the way of the chainplate bolts beyond.  Despite the long reach, I didn’t have too much trouble unclamping the hose from the deck fitting and pulling it free from the barb, but from there it got harder for a while.  The hose disappeared through the base of the locker, and reappeared in the bilge aft of the mast step.  Logically, I thought I could just pull the hose from one end or the other to remove it, but I soon discovered that it just wouldn’t move beyond a point, and I couldn’t pull it in either direction more than a few inches.

At the aft side, the mast step and compression post were in the way, and so since I thought the mast step would require work anyway, and since the compression post was a major impediment to fore and aft access, I decided to remove it now.  I started by unscrewing a wooden cover on the forward side of the boat, exposing the wiring leading up to deck level and allowing me to pull out the remaining wires.  I thought this might let me pull out the post–note that I’d already unbolted the top portion of the post back when I removed the mast step from the deck in September 2017–but I found there was a little wedge and screw holding the post in place beneath the cabin sole.  After removing that, I could pull out the post and set it aside.  From there, it was easy enough to unscrew the four lags holding the plywood to the fiberglass mast step on the bottom of the hull.  This improved–or at least sort of allowed–access beneath the forwardmost part of the sole so I could see what was going on with the water hose, though the space between the cabin sole beam and the hull itself was just about wrist height and no more.

With the post removed, the cabin seemed much more open, and access to the forward cabin was much easier.  Sailboats and their pesky rigging.

Back to the water hose, now I could see that there was a 90° plumbing elbow just behind the main bulkhead, causing the fill hose to turn to port and up into the locker.  There was not clearance for this to pass through the limber hole in the bulkhead, which was why I couldn’t pull out the hose from the bilge end.    There was no immediate access to the forward side of the bulkhead–it was beneath the forward cabin sole with no hatch–but I found that I could at least see the area if I got down in the large storage area beneath the v-berth.  I couldn’t reach that far back, with the molded protrusions in the way, but now I could see the hose not only had the elbow, but also dipped through a smallish opening, which made it difficult to pull from the forward side too.  Eventually I got the hose out, grabbing it with a long-reach tool that I keep on hand for these situations.

With the disgusting hose out of the way, I went on deck to remove the deck fill itself, which was easy.  This revealed some wet plywood core around the opening; it appeared this sidedeck had been repaired in the past (poorly), since the overall core material in this boat is balsa, but I’d be into this part of the project in the near future anyway.

My access to the water hose and forward lockers also gave me a chance to check out the tabbing securing the main bulkhead in place.  Like most production boats with deck liners, the bulkheads in this boat were tabbed only to the hull, not to the deck above, but at least what I could see of the tabbing for now looked sound and had proven apparently sufficient over the 40-year life of the boat so far.

So all this was more or less a precursor to the continuing removal of the chainplates.  With access clear, I found I could just barely reach, as necessary, the nuts on the starboard side, either with a long socket extension and, where needed, to clamp on some locking pliers on the bolts that spun beneath the nut.  Reinstallation later would be its own issue, but for now at least the removal was complete.  Again, on the starboard side the molded deck liner did not impede access–visually or otherwise–to the uppermost bolt on the chainplate.

On the port side, however, the way the liner sat meant that I couldn’t see the uppermost bolt, and this made accessing it nearly impossible.  Plus it seemed this locker was juuust enough deeper than its counterpart that I couldn’t adequately reach the nuts–or maybe it’s because my left arm, which was how I had to access this side, was shorter than my right.  In any event, I didn’t see how I could remove this chainplate without creating an access hole in the forward side of the locker molding.  This led to a long and tangential process.

On both sides, in addition to the regular bulkhead trim pieces, there was a larger trim piece extending down from the edge of the cabin trunk to the berth top.  I thought that I could remove that trim, then cut an access hole in the front of the locker behind it, making for a relatively simple and easily-hidden access hole.  The teak trim was just 1/4″ thick, but was secured with bunged screws.  I drilled out the bungs, exposing the screws, but soon found that the trim was also secured with silicone sealant from behind, and in short order I decided that not only could I not save it, it wasn’t worth saving, so I pried off the trim to expose–I thought (if briefly)–the molded panel behind.

What I found instead was a mess of cheap and delaminating plywood covering an ugly rough edge in the molded panel, with an auxiliary plywood panel beneath it all.  This part was glassed from inside the locker, and while I’d noticed the glasswork before (it was painted to match), I’d not thought much of it.  Of course I had no idea what had happened here, but the pieces were all falling into place and suggesting some accident that had damaged the deck on this side, leading to the myriad repairs to the toerail and deck edge and the hull as seen from the outside.

Whatever the case, it was what it was, and better repairs were on the way soon.  The liner and locker area itself were not inherently structural in any event, so for now I just removed the last of the plywood detritus and cut my access hole–finally–in the forward part of the locker, which allowed me to better access the chainplate and remove it.

There was a huge bronze opening port above the galley, facing aft into the cockpit, and I removed this now without any particular difficulty, though the spigot was an extremely tight fit through its opening.  As always, I secured the fasteners in order for future reference, since there were several different lengths used around the perimeter.

In the forward cabin and in the head, there were small round bronze opening ports, and I removed these next with no issues of note.

Finally, I removed a light fixture and some hoses from the head area (fortunately there was no old toilet nor holding tank to deal with here), along with an overhead deck prism that had leaked badly (along with its counterpart over the galley), and which had both caused obvious core damage to the wide bridgedeck in the cockpit.  I’d soon get to removing the galley deck prism, but I found the glass on the one above the head was broken in two corners before removal, perhaps from the significant deck softness and flexing caused by the rotted core.

Total time billed on this job today:  5.75 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  6°, clear.  Forecast for the day:  Sunny, near 40°

< Back to Scupper

Monday

After finishing up some work on an unrelated small project in the woodshop, I got started on Scupper again  by setting up cords and lighting, and collecting some tools so I could work on preparing the boat for the substantial work list ahead.  During an earlier brief work session some months before, I’d removed most of the deck hardware, but there was plenty of dismantling remaining before I could get into the repairs and surface preparation required during this phase of the project.

I’d not done much in the cabin, other than crawling around to remove the deck hardware, so things were pretty much as I left them, and showcased the boat’s existing condition, at least on the surface.   The interior was worn and tired, though to a far lesser outward extent than the decks and hull.  Still, work here would be comprehensive, as all surfaces would ultimately require refinishing and more.  Most of the cabin structures were part of a molded interior liner, including the galley, settees, and forward cabin, offset with teak trim.  The owner didn’t anticipate much in the way of major changes to the layout or function of the cabin.

Everything easily removable had to go to open up the space and provide access to all the lockers and outer surfaces for preparation and refinishing, and in any event most of the accoutrements here were junky and needed to be removed regardless.  Starting in the main cabin, I began to systematically strip the interior, removing the settee backrests (attached with hinges to access the lockers behind) and any loose gear that remained in those lockers.   The main cabin table was secured with two bolts to the cabin sole, and I removed it to improve access throughout the space as well as to gain access to a screwed-in bilge access panel beneath.

In the galley, it looked like previous owners had replaced the flush stovetop and never used it, as it looked brand-new other than some rust staining from a drip somewhere or another.  I removed the stove for safekeeping and access.

I stripped the rest of the galley, removing drawers and locker covers, a rusty old folding countertop extension, a rickety storage unit, and the old electrical panels, along with that green pipe (function unknown) and some of the plumbing and wiring beneath the area.  The icebox was half full of dirty water and I’d have to pump that out soon.  All the locker spaces were disgusting, with years of the dirt/water/salt/oil/grunge/mold buildup that is de rigueur with neglected boats.  Any remnants of the old systems would be removed just a bit later in the process.  I removed various trim pieces as I went and if the situation called for it.

Now I opened up the bilge access panel that had been beneath the cabin table, and another access hatch in the galley, providing the first view of the bilge.  There was a flexible water tank located in the main bilge, which I promptly and messily removed and threw away (the bilge was, of course, filthy).  This revealed the tops of the keel bolts, various internal structures, and the mast step beneath the compression post above.  The mast step, built of plywood, would require thorough inspection later; there was certainly plenty of compression of the plywood around the lag screws securing it in place, but whether I’d have to rebuild it remained to be seen, though it seemed likely.  I didn’t see any other immediate issues in the main bilge, though the first order of business there–and everywhere–would be to thoroughly clean it up once I got through with the basic dismantling.

Moving on and working inside the settee base lockers, I had to halt dismantling progress for a while so I could investigate a seeming (and hopeful) quirk in the construction.  While removing part of a wiring harness on the port side, I noticed several resin-filled holes in the bottom of the locker, and further investigation quickly revealed that the lockers on both sides were lined with a cored bottom, which of course was ruined and worthless on both sides.   I could easily rip away some of the laminate on the port side, revealing blackened (ruined but dry-ish at this point) core beneath.

My consternation here, requiring immediate investigation, was whether or not this cored area was part of an overall cored structure in the hull or just something in these lockers, so I inspected other areas of the boat where I had access to the hull to look for signs of coring anywhere else, and sounded the outside of the hull in way of the lockers, hoping I’d not get the same dull thud of death that I’d found inside the lockers.

While these locker bottoms were ill-constructed and would require removal, fortunately they seemed to be just that:  liners, perhaps to help insulate the hull and reduce condensation and ruining the locker contents.  Who knows.  The  boundaries of this cored area on each side were clear to see, running from just below the settee top down to the bottom edge of the locker (top edge seen in the final photo above, just above the shadow line where I’m pointing).

In the event, I decided that, while this problem would require some extra work later, I could move on for now and continue my dismantling.

Continuing mainly in the main cabin now, I turned to the ports, or deadlights if you prefer.    These featured fiberglass trim rings on the inside, which I removed first.  Because the openings in the cabin liner were not exactly aligned with the openings in the molded cabin side, and for other reasons, some of the screws securing these trim rings were backed with little bits of wood in the gap between the liner and cabin side.

The lenses themselves were secured to the cabin side with sealant (silicone) and through-bolts from the outside, where there were slim bronze trim rings.  These elliptical ports were handsome and important to the overall appearance of the vessel, but the installation was strange–but the one constant in old boats is that there seems no end to the variety of installation techniques.

The misalignment of the openings in the liner and cabin side meant that some of the nuts securing the lenses (and outer trim rings) were easily accessible, while others were partially or fully eclipsed by the interior liner.  I used a nut driver (9mm) where I could to easily remove most of the nuts, but the ones below the edges required laborious turning with an open-end wrench, since there was no direct access for a driver or socket.  But with minimal difficulty, if not free from frustration, I removed all the nuts inside, and moved outside to remove the screws, outer trim rings, and lenses.

By the end of the day I’d removed all six ports, lenses, and trim rings.  The smooth silicone residue left behind after I removed the lenses looked like it’d be enjoyable to remove later, especially given the tight access in the space.  The lenses, once broken free from their sealant, had to be jockeyed around inside the space between cabin and liner till I could angle them out appropriately and remove them; one of them, the port forward, was quite difficult to remove in this way, though I eventually succeeded.

Working on the sidedecks highlighted the general condition of the deck areas, particularly on the port side, which seemed to have been just savaged by some previous person armed and ready with cheap gelcoat paste and a putty knife but devoid of any inkling of talent, among other issues.  The challenge–and therefore the fun–in projects like this is taking something so awful and turning it back into something nice (or maybe even better than nice) again.

Finally, to round out the day, I removed the trim and ceiling strips (hull liner) from the port side above the galley and settee.  This exposed the after two main chainplate fasteners (the chainplates were bronze mounted externally to the hull), with slim stainless steel backing plates.

Total time billed on this job today:  6 hours

0600 Weather Observation:  2°, clear.  Forecast for the day:  Sunny, 30°