Lackey Sailing | tim lackey

Tuesday

The old electrical system was decrepit and no longer needed nor desired, so I started the day by removing what was left of it–all the wiring, connectors, wire clamps, and electrical panels. (After I took these photos I removed the 12-volt outlet still in place, which needed a smaller screwdriver.)

The port cockpit scupper fitting was also damaged, so I removed it, like its counterpart to starboard. Then I removed the hoses and, finally, the old valves and through hulls, all slated for replacement.

The sink drain, with an old gate valve, was slated for replacement as well, so I removed the old fitting and hose.

An obsolete knotmeter impeller in the keel sump was next to go. Later, I’d patch this hole.

With everything of substance removed from the deck and interior, I moved on to the old toerails. The owner requested replacement, so I removed the old rails, along with the stem fitting and taffrail sections. I chiseled out the bungs as needed, and unfastened the rails, which went without issue. The vinyl hull-deck trim pieces would remain in place on this boat, and during a later stage of the project I’d replace the teak rails in kind. I found a group of tiny little bugs beneath the stem piece; they’re too small to show up in the photo, but they were contributing nicely to the dterioration of these pieces. During deck work later I’d clean up the old sealant where the rails had been.

I’d already removed the cabintop handrails, which I’d replace with new, and I thought that the companionway trim could be restored as is, but the cockpit coamings were badly weathered and slated for replacement, so I removed them next. For the moment, I kept all the old pieces of trim for later reference.

The final bits to remove before continuing with the next stages of work were the two deadlights, which I’d reuse and reinstall later in the project.

With the disassembly complete, and an appointment in the afternoon, it seemed a good time to stop for the day

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 4.25 Hours

0600 Weather Report:
65°, partly clear, muggy. Forecast for the day: clouds and sun, increasing chance of shower by evening, 70s

< Back to Aventura

Monday

After a break, it was time to get into the project for real. The scope of the project was mostly well-defined, and certainly included full restoration (and, as needed, repair) of the hull and deck, so as usual I began by removing deck hardware. After documenting all the existing installations around the boat, I started at the stem and worked my way aft during the course of the day, removing all the hardware and retaining it mostly for re-use. The bow and stern pulpits and stanchion bases would not be reinstalled.

I removed an old knotmeter instrument (later I’d be removing its through hull impeller also), as well as the compass (no fluid) and a depthsounder instrument, which might be reinstalled. I also removed a wooden filler/backing plate around the depthsounder, since I preferred to patch the large square hole along with the knotmeter hole beneath, then reinstall the instrument properly as need be.

I hadn’t planned–nor wanted–to remove the overhead panels that someone had installed in the main cabin, as the initial scope of the project didn’t include major cosmetic work on the interior. Unfortunately, these panels had been installed over the nuts securing some of the cabin top hardware, so I had to remove the panels for access. The panels were installed with some strips of polyester-soaked mat tape, most of which peeled off without much effort, though some of the tabbing had actually stuck and would require more work to remove. The panels themselves were poor quality plywood covered with vinyl material, and while they’d looked OK before I had to touch them, it seemed clear that they were not worth salvaging.

When I removed the port genoa winch, I was amused to find the base full of small rocks. Apparently a child (or a very bored adult) had had a fun afternoon dropping these through the winch handle opening in the winch. There was only one rock inside the starboard winch.

The owner requested I remove the fresh water tank and related plumbing, so with all the deck hardware now off the boat I continued inside. The tank was secured minimally with some tabbed-in blocking that I removed bare-handed, then removed the tank and its fill and vent hoses and deck fitting without issue.

Renewing the cockpit scupper drains and through hulls was on the list for the project, and a good thing too. The port hose was virtually nonexistent with deterioration, and while the starboard hose was in better shape, I found that the plastic drain fitting broke at the cockpit when I tried to remove the hose, leaving nothing worth saving on either side. I’d continue work on these fittings’ removal presently.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 6.5 Hours

0600 Weather Report:
50°, clear. Forecast for the day: Partly sunny, low 70s,

< Back to Aventura

Now that Aventura was in the shop, I took some time to go over the boat more carefully to help determine the most appropriate work list. The boat featured what appeared to be mostly original finishes inside and out, and, while a bit tired, dirty, and neglected, she wasn’t in terrible overall condition.

The topsides were as expected, and refinishing them was part of the project that was already determined. The hard vinyl hull/deck joint trim, which covered the seam between hull and deck and on which the teak toerail sat, was in fair condition cosmetically but otherwise in good shape and complete. I tried a couple methods on a test area to see about cleaning up the vinyl’s appearance, and had decent success. (first photo)

The bottom was in fair condition overall, with not too much paint and which was still mostly well-adhered to the hull–in other words, better than most. The ballast keel, as seemed to be typical on these boats, was a poor fit with the molded hull–substantially narrower, which required a heavy layer of fairing filler over the top from the factory to fair it in with the hull. This material had failed in a couple spots, leaving large voids of a cosmetic nature, but which would require repair/refairing nonetheless. Structurally speaking, there were no apparent issues with the ballast pig.

The decks were original gelcoat and molded nonskid, with a few cracks near hardware or stress points, and some evidence of core softness in the cockpit around the rudderpost, and on the port seats forward. Other deck areas, at casual inspection, didn’t immediately alarm in terms of potential core issues, but I’d do a more thorough inspection as part of the overall deck preparation process. The lazarette hatch was in poor condition and would require recoring, and the exposed core at the edges of both aft openings was soaked; these areas would require repair. Really, who thought that leaving the core exposed here was a good even remotely acceptable idea?

The cover for the outboard well, along with the hull plug, was not on board.

The woodwork was original teak, heavily weathered and darkened by time. There was a split in the toerail on the starboard side, just aft of the aftermost chainplate. Otherwise the woodwork was sound, if unattractive. Whether to salvage or replace had not yet been determined.

The interior showed its age, but wasn’t in terrible condition for all that. Someone had installed cork or similar type material on the cabin trunk overhead, which was painted to match, and which looked pretty good. Certainly some cleaning and sprucing up was in order, the scope of which would be determined in due course. There was some water damage to the chainlocker bulkhead, the extent of which I didn’t determine at this time.

The bilge had a lot of water in it, with no drain plug, so I drilled a hole in the deadwood to let out the water and start to dry things out. I’d install a garboard drain later. There was a fresh water tank and plumbing, and a rudimentary slapdash electrical system on board. Through hull fittings and hoses were in poor condition.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 1 Hour

< Back to Salty

To hold the engine securely for storage and eventual transport to the rebuild facility, I put together a simple but strong stand for the engine, reinstalling the forward mount I’d taken off earlier. Once the engine was secured to the new stand, I reinstalled the coolant hose, alternator, and engine belt that I’d removed in order to get the engine out of the boat.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 1.25 Hours

< Back to Aventura

With the restoration project about to begin, I moved Aventura into the shop. My first step would be to assess various areas of the boat so the owner and I could come up with the final work list. I’d begin this soon.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 1 Hour

< Back to Salty

Working now from the forward side of the engine, I continued to disconnect wiring, hoses, and control cables, including the alternator (which I had to remove in order for the engine to clear the narrow hatch). I documented the engine in various stages for my own future reference, as well as for this log.

I could also see that I’d have to remove a cooling hose line that ran along the port side of the engine, as it extended beyond the confines of the hatch. I took care of its removal (tucking it into the aft end of the engine) once I’d removed the alternator above. I was also quite sure I’d need to remove the forward engine mounting flanges for hatch clearance; the after flanges were integral with the aft part of the engine housing, and were not removable, but I had my doubts that they’d clear the hatch either.

I removed several grounding wires from the bolt securing the lifting eye, and removed the alternator wiring, labeling each wire with its proper location for my reference now and later.

With all the ancillary connections disconnected, I removed the nuts from the engine mount studs (I planned to leave the flexible mounts in place, at least for now) and prepared to hoist the engine out. I moved the boat forward so I could use my crane to lift out the engine. Once I lifted it off the mounting studs, I halted so I could check out the clearances and work on removing whatever else needed to be removed. In the end, I found that removing one of the two forward mounting flanges (secured to the engine with four bolts) that there’d be enough–barely–clearance to squeeze the engine through the hatch.

At the aft end, I couldn’t see how the fixed rear flanges could pass through the opening as is, so with a saw I carved out a small area on one side of the hatch to allow a critical extra inch of room, after which the engine was free. I swung the engine over the side and down to the floor. Soon I’d build a little shipping crate for the engine, and reconnect the things I’d removed so that everything stayed whole for its journey to the rebuilding shop.

The pan beneath the engine was disgusting with oily residue (fortunately only a small amount of oil; most of the liquid was antifreeze) and, beneath an oilzorb pad, an inch-thick layer of indefinable sludge. I’d leave a more significant cleaning for later, but for now I had to get the worst taken care of, leaving the engine pan and foundations relatively clean. I pulled the shaft out from the inside, and my work there was done for the moment. After fruitlessly searching the bottomless bilge for a 3/8″ wrench that I’d dropped earlier–I didn’t have the heart to go digging through the greasy hoses and detritus down there at the moment–I abandoned the wrench to await a later surprise discovery. It’d be easier to buy a new wrench for now.

Before moving the boat back to her outdoor storage spot, I removed the stanchions and lifelines, storing them in the cabin. These needed to be removed to allow the winter cover to fit properly. Then, I repositioned the boat in the yard, where she’d wait till the actual project began sometime in 2016.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 3.5 Hours

< Back to Salty

Although work on Salty wasn’t scheduled to begin till sometime in late spring or summer 2016, one of the significant portions of the project was to assess and rebuild, as needed, the existing Universal diesel engine. The owner had been in contact with a rebuild shop, and rather than wait till the project began many months later, I wanted to get the engine on the ground and to the rebuild shop sooner than later.

So, taking advantage of the natural shift between two other projects, I decided to work on removing the engine, and to that end I moved the boat into the shop temporarily. I shuffled another boat (on its own trailer) into the main work bay for the moment, so I could put Salty in the bay containing my gantry crane. I didn’t even take her off the trailer, as her time in the shop would be short and she’d then be going back outside for storage. It took a while to pick the boat up on my trailer, since the hauler who delivered here here a week or so earlier had blocked the keel oddly, obviating installation of my crossbeam; I had to temporarily lift the boat with some straps so I could reblock the keel and leave room for the forward beam.

The first thing I did was to remove the bilge plug, which I’d not even noticed before–and immediately wished I’d done this outdoors, but alas. It was neither the first nor almost certainly the last time that I’d poured oily water all over the shop.

I began by removing the propeller, and noting various aspects of its original installation for later reference (mainly shaft clearance to the rudder (5/16″) and how much shaft was exposed behind the Cutless bearing (5″) The propeller was a 2-blade 12RH9. With my puller, the propeller came off without issue, and I set it and its component parts aside.

In the cockpit, I removed the cockpit sole hatch–essentially the entire sole–which provided access to the engine room beneath. I took a number of pictures of the original installation for reference purposes.

I started with the shaft and coupling, and unbolted the coupling from the engine. Other than the challenging access–top access like this seems at first like a great idea, till one realizes that when the hatch is gone there’s nowhere from which to work–the coupling bolts came off with ease, and I slid the shaft back enough to clear the engine. Once the engine was out, I’d pull the shaft out from inside.

Continuing from the aft end, where access was most uncomfortable, I began to systematically disconnect what I needed to in order to remove the engine, documenting the original situations as I went. In this way, I removed the fuel lines, exhaust hose, raw water bypass, coolant overflow lines, engine wiring harness, and gearshift cable, all the things I could reach from the after end of the compartment. Then I removed the battery from the forward end.

This brought me to the end of the day; I’d continue on the ‘morrow.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 4.5 Hours

< Back to Nomad

With the “pressures” of summer winding down, and the prospect of unscheduled weekends ahead, I began to prepare the boat for the next task ahead: painting the hull. I chose to get this out of the way first so that I could snuggle the boat into a corner of the shop for most of the winter, leaving room indoors for some other projects and storage of other things. Once the hull paint was done, I’d have little need to access the boat from anywhere but inside, where the bulk of additional work would occur, so I could live without access all around.

To begin, I removed the winch and bow roller assembly from the trailer to open up access to the stem for masking and prep work.

After removing the tools I’d left on the boat after my last session, I prepared to mask off and cover the decks with plastic, the first step towards hull preparation. The boat’s construction featured an outward hull flange and shoebox-type hull/deck joint, covered with and protected by an aluminum toerail. With hull color on the underside of the outward flange, I’d need to paint that area; plus, the bow sections featured a raised bulwark that, on this boat, was hull color, so I’d need to mask off both the aluminum rails as well as the deck within, slightly complicating the masking and covering process.

There was a teak molding at the juncture between the hull and the outward flange; this molding, while noticeable while the boat was on the trailer, was not something that would be visible when the boat was in use, and rather than fuss with masking it and dealing with its appearance in some other way, I decided it would be fine to simply prep and paint it along with the hull. In the areas at bow and stern where teak trim extended beyond this sheltered area, I’d treat the teak normally, with varnish.

I masked the lower edge of the aluminum toerail to protect it while working on the underside of the outward flange, then masked various teak trim bow and stern as needed to cover it before draping plastic sheeting over the deck and taping it to the decks and toerail as required, leaving exposed the bulwarks forward.

The outboard well at the transom featured some cracking (as per usual) in the seam between hull and deck moldings, and since I wanted to repair and lightly reinforce this joint I masked the plastic inside the transom, leaving the top and edge exposed.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 3.5 Hours

< Back to Nomad

Earlier, in some quiet moments around the shop, I put together a simple yet strong stand for the outboard, using old yard scraps.

Removing the old engine controls and cables earlier had highlighted the condition of the boat’s original (I think) wiring. The space beneath the helm console was a nasty-looking rat’s nest of sloppy wire, and in beginning the process of sorting it out as I removed the unwanted power cables from the old engine, I soon realized that I’d have to clean up the wiring more than I’d originally anticipated. As much as I hoped to keep the project scope minimal, and although everything on board currently worked, I wasn’t content with the way the wiring looked now. The battery cables were poorly done, with lousy crimps, and all in all it was time for some maintenance.

When I started to really get into it, however, I found that the original wiring was solid-conductor household wire, sometimes known as Romex. This was unacceptable to me, and it was clear that I’d have to start over to satisfy myself. Later, I also found several daisy-chained connections made with those cheap plastic clamp-on connectors that knife into the wire to allow an easy addition of another fixture.

This wasn’t a major setback, as my goals for the boat were to keep the electrical system extremely simple and straightforward, and anyway, there was always something satisfying about tearing out old, poorly-executed systems and starting fresh. So it was out with the wire nuts and Romex, out with the sloppy mess behind the helm, out with everything unnecessary. There weren’t many fixtures on board–only a few lights, which I’d planned to replace with new LED fixtures anyway, and the water pump.

I planned to reuse the original electrical pane at the console, which incorporated an AC panel (which I didn’t plan to use at this time), battery switch, and enough breakers for the vessel’s minimal needs. So I unscrewed the panel and cut the wires as needed: later, I’d remove the remnants of old wire in preparation for reinstallation, but for now I just wanted to clean things out.

Starting at the helm, I systematically removed everything, from the messy bundles to the unwanted searchlight controls to the old buss bars and clamps. I worked my way through the boat, removing the old bundles bit by bit as I went, and cutting things along the way to ease how much wire I had to actually pull through access holes and the like. A few of the fixtures, like the running lights atop the pilothouse and the overhead light in the cabin, had their wiring–stranded copper of appropriate type here–run behind or beneath panels that obviated its removal, so I left these in place for reuse. I removed all the AC outlets and their metal boxes that I didn’t like, and all the lighting fixtures, leaving (for now) only the bilge pump in place for some later time.

In the head, some dismantling of panels was required for appropriate access to the wiring–a panel along the hull on the outboard side, plus some access panels on the aft side, which allowed me to get to the wiring for various lights and the exterior mast. The aft panel was full of seeds apparently stolen by the rodents that had also made a huge foam and paper nest beneath the galley. I left the VHF cable in place because there was no reason to replace it.

There was a Force 10 kerosene cabin heater behind the helm, and I knew I didn’t want that. It had a tank located beneath the galley, and a long fuel line connecting the two. All must go. I found at once that the galley tank didn’t fit through any of the openings in the cabinet. Perhaps it was installed through the sink hole in the countertop, but I couldn’t properly access the nuts securing the sink in place, so eventually I decided to slightly enlarge the opening in the access door to allow the tank–with some effort–to finally come through. By the time this was done, I was so irritated at the heater, the stupid leaking tank, the disgusting rodent nest beyond, and the faceless, uncaring people that installed such a thing in so ignorant a fashion, that with great indignation I decided to throw the silly heater and all its parts in the trash rather than try and sell it and subject anyone to one of these ridiculous, fussy, inept, foolish things.

Meanwhile, I removed the old plumbing, electric water pump, and accumulator tank, along with the bladder water tank from beneath the dinette and its fill hose. I suppose I could have left this be, but the locker in which they were installed was a mess, someone had used so many oversized clamps to secure all the hoses, and I just wanted a fresh start. Plus I might just install a nice easy foot pump. I found the desire to rid the boat of the old and decrepit and start anew as overpowering, as usual.

By the end of the day, I’d removed all the old systems, along with the dinette table, helm chairs, cushions, cockpit doors, and whatever else I could. I needed everything out of the way so I could eventually start to deal with the interior finishes, which were in need of refreshing. Most of the plywood paneling along the cabin sides had been badly stained from water leakage from the windows, but I hoped I’d be able to clean it up and save it. The starboard side of the pilothouse, however, was going to be unsalvageable, with several rotted and damaged areas, and a generally terrible appearance. The numerous large holes and basic construction of the helm console also started me thinking about whether I should just rebuild that too. And so it goes.

The cabin sole would require replacement, and the old was weathered and in poor condition, and the overhead would require sanding and painting for improved appearance. I’d need to rebed all the windows and ports, and refinish the exterior doors and swashboards (along with the other minimal exterior wood).

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 5.25 hours (including building the stand)

< Back to Nomad

The first order of business now that the boat was in the shop was to remove the old outboard. I planned to get going on the hull work as soon as I could, and the outboard was in the way, and was annoying me since I couldn’t straighten it out thanks to the non-functional steering at the moment.

During my earlier test-run, I’d already removed the fuel line leading to the boat’s own fuel tank, and I’d removed the steering hoses from the outboard’s cylinder earlier also. So the only things still attached to the motor were the control cables, and the electrical cables. These were all straightforward to remove.

There was an add-on Kort nozzle on the outboard’s propeller, presumably to help focus thrust. I’d no idea whether this was something useful or required for this particular boat, but in any event I thought I’d remove it and keep it on hand should it be useful someday–and I didn’t plan to sell it with the old engine. Removal was a matter of six bolts along the top of the lower unit, and four more on the lower unit’s skeg.

Next, I removed the locknuts from the four bolts securing the outboard to the transom, and loosened all the remaining nuts. Then, I prepared a lifting harness from a pair of chains, one below the forward part of the motor and the other aft to form a bridle. I added a strap between the chains to prevent any chance of the aft one slipping.

Because of the way my gantry crane was stored in the shop, it was easier to pull the boat forward on her trailer to the crane rather than move the crane aft. Once I had the stern positioned beneath the crane, I hooked up the lifting hook and took a strain, which allowed me to remove the four bolts completely and lift off the engine.

I’d need to build a simple stand for the engine, but for now I rested the skeg on the floor and held it with the chain hoist, and returned the boat to her original position in the shop. Then, I removed the old throttle control, cables, wiring, and steering hoses from their run in the boat–all would be replaced during the repower. I used one of the cables to pull through a messenger line to make future new runs easier.

With the outboard and its related detritus out of the way, I’d soon be ready to start some work on the hull–my chosen first task.

Total Time Billed on This Job Today: 2.25 Hours

Aventura 4

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Nomad 5

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