Lackey Sailing | tim lackey

Early Informational Update

Wednesday

I hate when I have to do this. I’ve uncovered some unanticipated issues with the coachroof that are going to complicate and extend the repair work beyond expectations. I’ve prepared this treatise for you to try and explain the situation and a proposal for properly repairing it. Let me know all your questions and thoughts.

Beginning the repair work on the forward coachroof this morning, I proceeded in the usual way. Given the obviously poor condition of the deck, and the softness underfoot, and the fact that we knew that the coachroof hadn’t been recored during the Tristan project 10 years ago, I was pretty confident in my process for this repair: many boats, many Tritons, and figured I knew what to expect, so I made my first perimeter cut through the top skin, following a transverse line a few inches forward of the bumpup in the coachroof. As usual, I had the saw set to a shallow depth, approximately 1/4″, which should have been enough to cut through the top skin and perhaps just into the core beneath. I knew the coring would be 3/8″ thick, and the skin would be under 1/4″, and I always err on the cautious side with the first cuts till I confirm my expectations.

So imagine, upon completing the first cut, my surprise I thought I saw light (coming from belowdecks) through the saw kerf.

This did not compute, so I immediately went below, to discover that indeed the saw had come through the bottom skin in the center portion of the head, just forward of the passageway opening. I was horrified, but still couldn’t–and didn’t–understand how that could have happened. But OK, I could and would deal with the mistake, and no substantial harm.

The cut line disappeared on either side of the passageway, which cheered me up a bit, so I carefully proceeded with additional cuts to release the top skin for removal. To my horror, I found a few more sections of cut–now with the blade even less exposed out of an abundance of caution–where the kerf had gone through the inner skin again. How could this be? Eventually, and carefully–though the deck had to come apart one way or another–I removed enough of the top skin where I could begin to piece together what was happening beneath.

First of all, the old core was the balsa planks used in the earlier Tritons, before they switched to end-grain blocks (the type which is still used today). I’d forgotten about that particular bit of Triton lore, but it didn’t explain the other things I was seeing and experiencing.

Apparently, some person (and I use the term generously) had done some horrendous work to the area from below (I should have guessed, given the lumpy bumpy mess on the head overhead, but then again Tritons have lumpy bumpy overhead laminates anyway, so it never struck me, last year, as being unusual–just downright sloppy, but again, not unusual). The previous “repair” apparently had replaced some of the core (from below) with solid glass, so there was now a newer inner skin applied directly to the underside of the original top skin. This previous repair person had just removed whatever core was bad, left the rest in place, and put on some fiberglass from beneath. Now, exposing things from the top, the picture finally began to come together. I suppose I should have anticipated some weirdness, but honestly, who could anticipate this level of poorness and incompetence? (OK, I still should have, as I’ve seen this level of work before, but there wasn’t an outward sign of it that would have truly made me understand what I might find.)

After some more careful, but still necessary, demolition work, I exposed most of the area and removed the old coring. There was indeed some solid material in way of the mast step itself, and I slowly cut towards it till I could remove all the surrounding core, and then peel back, with effort, the fiberglass over the top. Any new work to repair this area would of course have to properly incorporate the mast step area, and I now just needed a real sense of what was going on, and to help me come up with some means of repair.

With the detritus cleaned up, it’s pretty clear to see the geography of the “repair”. The “solid” part of the deck (the part badly repaired from below) extends along the basic centerline, aft of the mast step. You can see how the bottom skin contacts the remaining top skin between the ports, and then the exposed edge of the core on either side outboard (the way the whole deck should be). then there’s the solid stuff beneath the mast step. It’s not fiberglass, but some kind of filler.

Some of the saw cuts came through in the head, which I already knew about, and the old inner skin (part of the original, forward of the mast beam) was damaged during the removal processes above, poking through a bit into the forward cabin just forward of the mast step.

After some thought, and as the whole picture finally started to come together, here is what I am thinking for the repair. This is early and some of the details may change as it gets underway.

I think I should remove the mast beam to expose the deck through the passageway to the forward cabin, which will allow me to integrate the new work as well as possible with the existing structures.
I will remove the existing inner skin (i.e. the overhead) in the head, stopping short of the existing structure all around to leave room for bonding. As needed, I will continue this cut through the centerline/passageway to the forward cabin, to ensure that the mast step is well-supported. This will create a large hole in the deck. Grind and prepare adjacent areas to allow for new work and bonding.
My current thought is to laminate, on the bench, a new inner skin of fiberglass, thin enough to remain flexible. Then, once the panel is cured, I’ll cut it to size, and install it from below, spacing it as needed to allow for new coring and solid glass at the mast step. The details of all this will work themselves out as the process gets underway.
Once the new bottom skin (new overhead) is in place, I can fiberglass it to the existing/adjacent structures, then, from above, add new core and top skin to complete the structure. This part is not unlike what I was planning for the recoring in the first place, so once the new bottom skin is in place, the work will proceed roughly as planned all along.
Cosmetic work and repainting from below as needed

While this is unanticipated and will add time to the whole project, I don’t think it’s terrible in terms of cost and time. It adds more work because it will affect some of the painting and cosmetic work that I did in the cabin last year, and the head isn’t the funnest place to work, with tight confines, but if the plan I’ve outlined works as I think it will, I think it will be about as streamlined and efficient as possible, and minimize the worst work in the tight space.

Anyway, this is where we are now, mid-day on Wednesday. I will not do any more substantial work on the coachroof for now, though timing requires that I begin some of the planning for my chosen repairs, and obviously these repairs, in one form or another, must proceed. Let me know any and all questions, thoughts, concerns, and we’ll go from there. We can also discuss tomorrow morning when I drop off the woodwork, probably between 8:30 and 9:00 if that is OK with you.

Wednesday

Beginning the repair work on the forward coachroof, I proceeded in the usual way. The condition of the deck seemed clear enough–extremely soft underfoot on either side, with paint damage and surface cracking to confirm the softness in a visual way. I’d already laid out my general cut lines, designed to leave ample deck surface at the edges for tying in the new work with the old, and now I set my saw to an appropriate depth to cut through the top skin and made the first cut along the aft edge of the deck, a few inches forward of the bump-up to the after section of the doghouse.

Finishing the cut, I was aghast to see light (coming from belowdecks) through the saw kerf. How could I have cut all the way through the deck?

The cut line disappeared on either side of the passageway, which cheered me up a bit, so I carefully proceeded with additional cuts to release the first section of top skin for removal , a large piece on the port side, the area where the deck had been softest. To my horror, I found a few more sections of cut–and I’d even exposed less of the saw blade for these cuts out of an abundance of caution–where the kerf had gone through the inner skin again. How could this be? Eventually, and carefully–though the deck had to come apart one way or another–I removed enough of the top skin where I could begin to piece together what was happening beneath, keeping the saw cuts a bit further back from where I’d originally intended to cut, and with the blade set as shallowly as possible. In this way, I exposed most of the structure throughout the part of the deck I’d intended to quickly cut open and dismantle.

First of all, the old core was the balsa planks used in the earlier Tritons, before they switched to end-grain blocks later in the production series. I’d forgotten about that particular bit of Triton lore, but it didn’t explain the other things I was seeing and experiencing. The core planks were generally dry, but the adhesion between both top and bottom skins was poor to nonexistent, which had ultimately led to the overall structural failure. All normal and expected, and still unrelated to the way the saw had gone through the deck in the center. But now I could see that the inner skin, as it were, came right up and met the top skin in the centerline area where I’d had the kerf problem. It’s notable that the top skin here peeled away cleanly and with only minimal bonding to the fiberglass below, highlighting again the inadequacy of the previous work. The only place I had any trouble removing the top fiberglass was over the mast step, which area featured some sort of solid material directly beneath the step (some sort of prefab material, as yet undetermined).

Apparently, some person (and I use the term generously) had done some horrendous work to the area from below. The previous “repair” apparently had replaced some of the core (from below) with solid glass, so there was now a newer inner skin applied directly to the underside of the original top skin. This previous repair person had just removed whatever core was bad, left the rest in place, and put on some fiberglass from beneath. Now, exposing things from the top, the picture finally began to come together. When I did my interior work to the boat during phase 1, I’d certainly noticed the lumpy-bumpy characteristics of the underside of the deck in the head, but it wasn’t anything unusual as far as Tritons go: the older ones, especially, all feature that sort of sloppy and rough glasswork, and there were no signs that pointed to this sort of issue. Because the deck had never been repaired from above, there were no signs of this weirdness from the surface either. Given the known history of this boat, and some of the previous repair work (under previous ownerships) for which we have documentation, there were other strange and semi-catastrophic things that had been dealt with previously, so from that perspective these findings made more sense than they might have otherwise, but this still hadn’t been enough to actually “expect” to find this sort of atrocity.

After some more careful, but still necessary, demolition work, I exposed most of the area and removed the old coring. There was indeed some solid material in way of the mast step itself, as I’d suspected, and I slowly cut towards it till I could remove all the surrounding core, and then peel back, with effort, the fiberglass over the top. Any new work to repair this area would of course have to properly incorporate the mast step area, and I now just needed a real sense of what was going on, and to help me come up with some means of repair.

With the detritus cleaned up, the geography of the previous “repair” became more clear. The “solid” part of the deck (the part badly repaired from below) extended along the basic centerline, aft of the mast step. In this area, the bottom skin contacted the remaining top skin along the center portion between the ports; on either side, as the deck extended outward, the normal contour of the construction, with space for the standard 3/8″ core, became visible once more.

In addition to the first, largest, saw kerf that came through the inside, right along the aft side of the head at the passageway opening, there were a couple other places (also along the center area where there was no longer any core, just the roughly 1/4″ of fiberglass) where the saw had cut through, and some damage through the inner skin forward of the bulkhead in the forward cabin, caused during removal of the core from above.

These findings put a damper on my intended progress for the day, and I immediately got in touch with the owner to notify him and begin discussions about what it meant for the overall project. Meanwhile I tried to think about the best way to go about repairing this area properly. Clearly the miserable old work would have to be removed, which essentially meant cutting out this portion of the deck (i.e. head overhead), and rebuilding the inner skin (overhead) as well as new core and top skin above. There were various limitations, practical, financial, and otherwise, to how this might be accomplished, with an eye towards minimizing collateral damage, working within the spaces defined by existing structures (bulkheads on either side), and successfully tying the new bottom skin (overhead) in with the existing and adjacent structures. The change in elevation of the cabin top right at the boundary of the repair complicated things as well, because the deck requiring repair literally ended as it raised itself to the upper level. So there was limited room for tying the new in with the old as a purely physical thing.

What I thought I might do was to actually build a new inner skin panel off the boat, flat on a bench, then, after cutting out the old deck as much as possible (leaving ample material at the edges for bonding and to avoid the bulkheads) mold and adhere the new skin from below, re-creating the proper 3/8″ depth for the new core. My reasoning for this approach was that I could bond the new skin panel from underneath, epoxying and tabbing it along the edges of the cutout; otherwise, there was no clear way to incorporate the new bottom laminate in with the existing structures. Once the new inner skin was in place and bonded, rebuilding the rest of the deck would be normal, basic, and quick. To bond the new material sufficiently beneath the mast step, the critical structural element of this whole space that made the repairs that much more important, I figured I should remove the mast beam so I could bond through the passageway, which was directly beneath the step. This would afford the opportunity to clean up the mast beam installation, which was sort of a sloppy mess anyway.

The exact mechanics of this process would make themselves better known once I got going. For now, it was an idea, and I’d continue to mull and refine it over the hours and days to come.

While waiting to hear back from the owner, and not wanting to delve too deeply into the next steps of whatever repair till I had approval to proceed, I decided for now to start with a pattern of the head overhead, which I could use to start my rebuilding process. With some basic measurements of the space, I cut a paper template slightly smaller all around; then, with the template taped in place, I marked the exact shape of the space all around, using a flexible 1-1/2″ wide ruler (and, in the tightest spot, a compass) to draw the offset directly on the paper template.

With that, for now I called it a day on this project and focused in other directions. Later in the day, I heard back from the owner with approval to continue the repairs as necessary, so I looked forward to continuing the overall deck prep–as well as effecting this unexpected repair–in the coming days.

Total time billed on this job today: 4.5 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Mostly cloudy, 18°. Forecast for the day: Drizzle, freezing drizzle, then rain, 45°

Tuesday

With a short day planned as I had to leave early for an appointment, I picked up where I left off and removed the smaller opening ports and/or trim rings. There were two different styles of bronze opening ports: an older. smaller style in three locations, which I found I could easily and safely remove completely once the trim rings were removed; and three “newer”, slightly larger, and superior versions (located in the forward-facing side of the main cabin sides, and on the starboard side of the forward cabin) where I found that just removing the trim rings was sufficient as the port bodies were well-adhered and sealed in place and I felt that removal was not only unnecessary, but might cause damage to the interior paint.

In each removal, I catalogued the screw length from each trim ring hole, as these varied based on the cabin thickness and trim ring profile (on the older style ports), and knowing which screws needed to go where would greatly streamline reinstallation later on in the project.

The last hardware to remove was the mast step and mast wiring conduit on the coachroof. Neither posed any particular removal challenges.

I removed most of the excess sealant from the port and deadlight openings, then, to protect the cabin from the worst of the dust and debris to come as the deck work got underway, I papered over the deadlights from the inside and, similarly, covered the forward hatch with masking for protection as well.

Next, I removed the stainless steel rubrail from the seam around the hull/deck joint, an unnoteworthy process except for one screw with a stripped head that I thought was going to pose a major headache, but fortunately and with great care I was able to coax it out on its own.

With a short time left before I had to depart, I went over the coachroof–both the lower section (known to be bad) and the upper section (unknown condition) to better determine my recoring course over the next few days. As anticipated/known, the lower forward section was in poor condition and clearly soft underfoot, with many cracks and crazing visible. There were hints under the paint of a more solid/possibly-previously-repaired section beneath the mast step, and the hole leftover from the mast wiring conduit seemed to reinforce this notion. So the bulk of the recore and repair looked to encompass the vast remainder of this part of the deck, at least as far forward as the hatch. I made some markings for the cuts and removal ahead. This would be a straightfoward repair.

The upper portion of the coachroof sounded better than expected when tapped with hammer, and with some brief memory aids from my work in this area during phase 1, I remembered that the core had mostly seemed bright and clean when I’d drilled and potted fastener holes for the companionway and some of the hardware. I did locate a small area on the starboard aft side, near the winch and cleat locations, with suspect soundings, and I’d investigate this further presently. I planned to leave the companionway hatch in place for now to limit dust ingress into the cabin, but would remove it later for its own surface prep and painting.

Finally, on the starboard side of the hull was an old fuel tank vent, which the owner had plugged with a vent fitting to fill the existing hole temporarily. Now, with hull work to come and the opportunity to patch the obsolete hole, I removed the vent fitting.

Total time billed on this job today: 3.5 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Fair, 4°. Forecast for the day: Sunny, 25°

Monday

Preparing for the deck work ahead (mainly a thorough cosmetic overhaul, but the forward coachroof was soft and required recoring), my first task, as usual, was to remove deck hardware. In this case, I’d only just installed the hardware six or seven months earlier, during phase 1 of the project, so removal went smoothly and quickly since the fasteners were still new and access was quite good in most parts of the boat; even areas with blind access were easy enough to reach.

During the course of the day, I removed all the deck hardware, starting in the stern and cockpit with the pulpit, cleats, winch bases, and cockpit coamings. I was surprised at how well the thin strip of butyl tape I’d installed behind the coamings held: With all fasteners removed the coamings didn’t budge from their curves. It was quite stretchy when finally released. I also found that the sealant I used on the bulk of the deck hardware held firmly as well, but released well enough once I got it started. Since on this boat the existing deck paint was in poor condition with serious adhesion problems–the main reason for the work ahead–the paint often failed when in way of the hardware removals. I’d actually never had opportunity to dismantle anything I’d installed over the years, so it was interesting to gauge the efficacy of the various sealants.

Moving on, I went to the bow and started working aft from there, removing the bow pulpit, anchor roller, mooring bitt, chocks, cowl vent, and spinnaker pole chocks. Then, I finished up the bulk of the deck hardware with the genoa tracks, stanchion bases, chainplate covers, and main halyard gear on the coachroof (winch, cleat, and fairlead). In all cases, I could easily remove the nuts from belowdecks (none of the fasteners spun in place, thanks to the combination of newness, good sealant, and the threaded deck holes), then remove the fasteners from above. This all made the process go inordinately quickly. I saved all the fasteners I could for reuse, as most were in like-new condition; I’d specifically chosen not to cut off any excess bolt length during the original installation so that I might be able to reuse the fasteners now.

Next, I removed the deadlights from the main cabin, taking care to note any fasteners that were different from the rest. Most were of consistent length, but there were a couple shorter ones, and one longer one, plus two bolt/washer/nut combinations I’d had to use on the starboard forward light since I couldn’t get the machine screws to grab otherwise. I hoped and planned to correct these during the fresh installation ahead. All four installations appeared well bedded once I’d removed the inner frames.

Removal of the outer frames was not difficult; I planned to leave the lenses in place and intact for the reinstallation, as all were well-installed from a few months earlier and there was no reason to think of replacing them.

Still ahead were the small opening ports, and the mast step, but for now the day was done.

Total time billed on this job today: 6 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Fair, 17°. Forecast for the day: Sunny, 20°

Friday

To finish up the cabin sole, I removed and cleaned up the excess bungs, after which I could button up the interior.

To finish up the work, I installed the new winter cover for the first time, securing it as need be and adding soft chafe gear where necessary. Afterwards, with the project complete, I moved Arietta outdoors for storage.

<Back to Arietta

Total time billed on this job today: 2.75 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Overcast, 29°. Forecast for the day: Patchy freezing drizzle, rain showers, 37° (actually it was nice and clear all day, but hey, they were close)

Thursday

I removed the masking from the top surface of the sole for now, after removing a few drips of epoxy from the edges, though I’d want to remask it before installation for protection from the sealant; however, I didn’t want the crusty tape to contend with during final installation, and in any case I needed to lay out the screw holes for installation.

With a router, I trimmed the overhanging teak plywood from the bilge hatch, then cleaned this up and trimmed slightly more as needed for a good fit in the opening. Then I did one more dry fit in the boat to make sure the sole still fit as expected.

Using the old sole as a rough guide, I laid out screw holes in the new sole, slightly changing the position of a couple sets since the originals had not been placed as well as they could have been near the aft end and near the smaller opening at the forward end. I bored for 3/8″ bungs, and drilled pilot holes for the screws. Afterwards, I remasked the sole, covering the entire thing once more for protection. The owner planned to leave the sole bare, and sealant could easily stain the wood without protection. Up in the boat, I masked a double-width around the entire perimeter as well, to make cleanup easier.

Before installing the sole, I took care of one small job. The buss bar in the electrical locker had come free sometime after I’d installed it in epoxy a year earlier, and though I’d re-adhered it (this time with polyurethane sealant), and it seemed secure, we decided to add some insurance, since if this buss happened to hit an exposed positive terminal on the nearby panel, it could be a dangerous short situation. Earlier, in preparation, I epoxied small teak blocks to the fiberglass above and below the buss, and now, with those cured, I added small blocks to overlap and “pinch” the buss at each end, screwing these to the wood beneath. There was no way to directly screw the buss to the fiberglass since there was inadequate thickness. I also added a plastic buss cover, which protected the terminals and probably should have been in place long before.

After final cleanup and preparations, I installed the sole by applying a good bead of sealant all around the edges of the recess, then pressed the sole into place and secured it with 15 screws. I cleaned up the excess sealant, smoothing a clean line at the seam between the sole and the fiberglass, then removed all the masking. A little later, I returned to install teak bungs in all the screw holes; these would require trimming, but I’d await that till the next day to allow the sealant time to cure.

I removed the bronze lifting ring from the old hatch, and installed it in the new one to complete the sole.

With the work list essentially complete, during the afternoon I lifted the mast back aboard and secured it in the position it needed to be for the winter cover, adding a little support amidships at the mast step to keep the mast from bowing there when under cover. I removed the protective sheeting from the cockpit and cleaned up the boat, leaving things ready for the final steps on the morrow.

Total time billed on this job today: 5.25 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Overcast, 28°. Forecast for the day: Patchy wintry mix, 35°

Wednesday

Preparing for the imminent commencement of the real work on this project, I took advantage of a quiet afternoon to set up the staging all around at deck height.

Total time billed on this job today: 1 hour

0600 Weather Observation: Partly cloudy, 26°. Forecast for the day: Sunny, 33°

Wednesday

Now that the laminated cabin sole had cured sufficiently, I unclamped it from the bench and with a router trimmed the teak veneer around bilge hatch opening, matching the accurate cutout in the substrate. Then, I prepared the underside of the sole with a tapered edge all around to allow it to fit comfortably into the molded recess in the boat.

After several rounds of back and forth and fitting and additional sanding to fine-tune the sole and its fit in the boat, I eventually got it to sit properly and flush all around.

Now I worked on the hatch opening and the hatch cover, starting with lining the opening with strips of 1/4″ teak to cover the edge grain. Then, I cut a piece of the 1/4″ substrate to fit the hatch accurately and, after some layout to line up the striped wood colors on the teak veneer top layer, cut and epoxied in place a section of the top plywood, leaving it slightly oversized along the edges for final trimming later.

Using the old teak support cleats as a guide, I built a new cleat support from materials on hand, in this case white oak, and glued the assembly together, maintaining the opening size the same as the original. The side pieces are slightly longer than the cross pieces because I realized after I cut them to the original length (based on the old teak) that my stock was slightly less wide than the original and therefore the overall length should have been correspondingly shorter. The only net result of this was that for the opening to remain the original size the cross pieces had to be slightly offset from the cut ends; there was no reason to bother recutting the side pieces since this assembly would always be invisible till some future version of someone like me 40 years from now puzzled over it when replacing the sole the next time.

In the event, later, when the glue had cured enough, I set the assembly in the molded trough in the boat, and with the sole installed over it made reference marks all around on the supports so I could align them properly during installation down on the bench. I used thickened epoxy adhesive to secure the cleats to the underside of the new sole, clamping it securely and cleaning up the excess all around, but particularly inside the hatch opening.

To round out the work for the day, I epoxy-coated the edges and bottom of the plywood and new cleat system for protection.

Total time billed on this job today: 4.5 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Partly cloudy, 26°. Forecast for the day: Sunny, 33°

Tuesday

A week or two earlier, Jason, the canvas contractor, had come by to get some basic measurements of the boat in order to make a new frame. With the frame built, but with the legs intentionally a bit longer to allow for some final height adjustment on the boat (we’d not had all the information about boom and owner height during the initial consult), the first real step towards building the new dodger was to finalize the frame height and position. I happened to be the same height as the boatowner, which was handy for helping determine the final frame height, and along with some boom height measurements provided in the interim, it took two tries, removing a bit of the frame legs each time, to lower the frame appropriately and to its final height, after which we could install the bases on the coachroof and secure the frame in the correct position, with the main (aft) bow just a bit higher than the forward bow, and confirming the position visually and with measurements for symmetry, inasmuch as possible.

Next was to determine the landing point of the forward edge of the dodger, which defined the essential shape and appearance of the product. The angle of the forward edge was to approximate that of the forward end of the doghouse, which we eventually accomplished visually, and used this information to lay out and locate the first of the deck tracks required to form and secure the forward edge of the canvas: There’d eventually be three tracks, one each on the sidedecks (curved for appearance), and a third section on the sea hood. These plastic tracks could be manipulated with heat and curved to suit, and after a while we landed on the correct shape and position for the port track and secured it temporarily to the deck. Using this as a guide, Jason made a simple template, with some key reference points, to transfer a line for the curve to the port side, and repeated the installation process there. Then, mainly by eye, Jason located the third section of track on the sea hood; this also formed a slight curve to match that of the frame above.

The final photo in this series attempts to show the eyeball view from the cockpit, just skimming the top of the dodger frame at my height. This view would be good for distance visibility; for closer views, one need only duck an inch or two down to look straight through the dodger itself.

With the frame and all key attachment points in place, Jason moved on to the plastic pattern, beginning with the top, then the starboard side, and finally the port. With a 12″ long (vintage) winch handle that I keep on hand for these sorts of things, we made sure there was ample clearance to the dodger wings at the primary winches, and inside the dodger, there was ample clearance for a handle for the main halyard winch as well, at least for a 10″ or 8″ handle, which are common these days (the 12″ handle just interfered with the frame on the side). Note that the end of the plastic shown here forming the wings does not represent the final position of the canvas; instead, there are some tick marks on the plastic, visible particularly in the photos of the port side, that roughly signify for Jason the final, slightly-curved shape of the wing.

Afterwards, we removed everything, and the process would continue some weeks in the future once my main work list for the boat was complete, and she was reassembled.

Total time billed on this job today: 4 hours

0600 Weather Observation: Snow showers, dusting overnight, 24°. Forecast for the day: Snow showers, freezing drizzle, but improving, 36°

Monday

The owner had built a wooden sea hood for the companionway, for all the reasons one might want one but also specifically to provide a fixed landing point for a new dodger, construction of which was to begin this very week–this very day, initially (but rescheduled for Tuesday). However, he ran out of time before the boat was delivered to the shop, and couldn’t complete the woodwork, so the sea hood was still in a rough, just-glued-up condition. To prepare for accurate dodger patterning, I needed to do some minor work to the sea hood, though I kept my involvement to an absolute minimum so that the owner could have his intended pleasure of finishing the new construction and finishing himself during the winter.

The top overhung the sided by small amounts in some areas, so my first step was to use a router and a straight bit to trim these flush with the sides. Then, I used a 1/2″ roundover bit to create a smooth edge, which I finished up as minimally as possible with some light sanding to create a decent profile. I left the bulk of the surface prep and smoothing for the owner; I did only that which I felt was needed for the dodger work to come.

I positioned the sea hood as needed above the companionway, then made some reference marks so I could drill a fastener hole on each side, through the deck and to accept a pair of screws from below that would secure the sea hood for now. Final installation, when it happened, would continue in this way with additional screws all around, but the pair near the aft end was sufficient to hold the sea hood in position for the dodger patterning to come.

When Jason called to reschedule the patterning for the next day, I continued with some other preparatory work on board. The cockpit, which I’d repaired and repainted the year before as part of a limited scope project at the time, had some dirt and leaves from when the boat was stored outdoors before she arrived at the shop several weeks back, so I began by cleaning that up enough so I could mask off all the seating and stepping surfaces with diamond plate plastic sheeting for protection throughout the project. I covered the cockpit lockers separately, as I’d need to lift these lids to access some of the adjacent deck hardware that I’d soon be removing as I prepared the remainder of the decks for paint.