It’s been kinda crazy around here.  Some work, some play.  My phone was stolen but it was in the middle of a night out;  I shared some fault in the ordeal. With no phone, I also have no internet access. And then, after I was without the phone for a couple of days, I realized how nice it is to be completely disconnected – so I decided not to spend money on a new one just yet.  The price of peace was my smartphone. 

But that’s not really worth writing about. 

Reality

If you’re one of those, here to be inspired – you might wanna skip the next month or so.  It’s still boat work.  The next month will be posts on gear and technical crap and me whining about the heat.  Of course, when I get real all the dreamers complain.  It goes like this:  Nate, you spend too much time talking about the boat, too much time talking about working on the boat, too much time talking about boat gear and installation.  Not enough time telling us about the dream.  Bullshit.   The dream turns out to be moments:  a sunset over an uncluttered horizon, a day of spearfishing fun, a daysail between two off-the-beaten path islands.  These dreamy moments stitched together with longer periods of challenge and hard work.  

Speaking to other folks that have prepared for similar voyages – the common thread is that preparation is two people working on the boat, full-time, for a year before they complete the refit.  Read that again:  it usually takes a year of full-time, unpaid, strenuous work to get a boat like this ready.  Some folks took two years, if they did it all alone.  Some it took a little less.   The cost of the boat is hardly the price of admission, it will amount to a single line item on a long receipt.  Don’t forget to count the blood and sweat and tears and countless hours and endless gear purchases – all following the purchase of the boat. 

So that’s the reality – this shit is technical sometimes.  This shit is dirty and sweaty sometimes.  This is about knowing what gear to buy, how to install it, and where to source it as well as (sometimes more than) sailing.  It’s about what spares to have onboard.  It takes tons of work to get set up for big crossings and sailing in remote locations.  Every time somebody tells me I’m living the dream, I can look down at greasy hands and filthy clothes and wonder what strange dreams they heave.  But any dream takes work. 

Since we’re being real today, let’s talk money.  It costs real money to buy this kind of boat.  It costs real money to refit this kind of boat.  It costs real money to sail and maintain this kind of boat. Defender.com doesn’t take IOU’s.  I tried to convince both the grocery store and the marina that they should let me pay with pocket lint.  The guys at the diesel dock just said “No entiendo” when I told them that I needed diesel but that I didn’t have money.  When I have to pay for visas, the officials become sullen when I explain that I’m paying with my goodwill.  

About as often as somebody tells me I’m living the dream, I get a request from a stranger to come onboard… (wait for it) …without any money. They want to come and sail with me, without paying for the place they sleep or what they eat or what they drink.  It’s like standing in line at a theme park without having the money for admission.  In short, it’s foolish.  They say they’ve always dreamed of sailing around the world – as if their dream is an established currency in their dream world.  I’ve taken two people without money onboard – one stole thousands of dollars from me and the other added money-problems to my already long list of things to think about.  Fooled me twice, shame on me.

The dreams of so many people are so far removed from reality.  You learn, as time passes, why harbors and boatyards are stocked full of derelict boats. Unfinished projects serving as gravestones marking the harsh reality behind the facade of idealistic dreams. 

You can do this with less money but not at this level.  You can do this with less work but you better be able to cash that check.  That’s the reality.  It’s not as shiny as the dream.

The Last Month in CTG

Back to the present. 

When I first got back to the boat it was with great relief.  The States just isn’t home anymore – the language of job worries and commuting and mortgages and weddings and insurance and baby showers is now foreign.  The longer that is foreign, the better I’ll feel.  Back in CTG I had a week to get stuff settled.  A week to decompress and prepare for a visit from a friend.

Look how nice the water is…

Said friend visited from the States and we took a short trip to the Rosarios.  A trip to Cholon, lots of rum, late mornings and long nights.  She left.  Then it was singers at bars and drama at beaches.  Then it was back to boatwork.  Weeks of sweating and bleeding and cursing boats in general.  The heat oppressing, we pray for cloudy days that rarely manifest.   A moment of humor and clarity – yesterday when I went to the dock I received a standing ovation:  it was the first time they’d seen me clean in months.  This work is dirty.

The good news is that I accomplished a fair amount.  I’ll start in the engine rooms. 

There was a final repainting of the engines.  This is my third shot at painting the damn things in the last year. The first time I used a Volvo Penta paint, assuming it would be a quality paint.  It was not and it began flaking and rusting within three months.  The next shot at painting the engines I used this stuff:

Engine Paint Fail

Word to the wise:  don’t use that stuff.  It may be good for high-temp, light-duty stuff.  It is certainly not good for heavy-duty or marine use.  Rubbing that paint with a soapy rag removed the paint.  So about two months after the application of that paint, I decided to scrub and scrape it off the engines again.  A-freaking-gain.  

I reckon the third time’s the charm. 

The third time around I vowed to never, ever use a single-part paint on the boat again – at least not on anything I care about.  Single part paints just don’t cut it.  Single-part paints are for hobbyists.  This time around I wanted an epoxy-based paint.  The epoxy-based paints adhere well and provide a heavy-duty barrier that prevents corrosion.  Unfortunately epoxy-based paints don’t do very well in high-heat applications.  But with a bit of searching I found a local, epoxy-based paint that tolerated heat – a two part paint of course.

So we spent another two days on each engine – scraping and cleaning and repainting in The Sauna (the engine rooms).  Eventually we got it done.  Then we needed to replace the sound barrier in the engine rooms.  I searched and searched and finally found what I wanted – in the States.  Getting it here would be a problem though.  The cost and trouble of getting my hands on it, though, bordered on ridiculous. 

So.  I made the damn soundproofing.  It’s two parts:  one piece of a heavy lead or rubber sheeting that serves to absorb the sound/vibration and another piece of mylar-coated insulation.  Lead sheeting was near-impossible to find here, but I found a heavy rubber (gasket material) that turned out to be a great substitute.  The process sounds simple, but it took a week.  We  removed everything mounted on the bulkhead, cleaned the surface, glued the two parts together, cut it, fit it, glued it to the bulkhead, and then sealed all the edges with the right tape.  It turned out well and it cost a fifth of the commercially available products Stateside.  The real investment was time.  You can see the result, behind the fuel filter below. 

Griffin Filters

Next up was replacing my old-school Racor fuel filters with the turbine fuel filters from Griffin.  I opted to go with Griffin over Racor based solely on price.  In the words of a good friend:  Racor’s not the only game in town.  For the price of one turbine Racor fuel filter I got two Griffin’s from John at dieselfitlersdirect.com.  For any and all fuel filter needs, these are my guys.  I added the vacuum gauges on top as a means of telling when I should replace the filters.  The vacuum gauges are a nice-to-have, not a must-have.  The turbine filters are a big upgrade over the twist-on Racors that I replaced, if only for ease of replacing the filter cartridge.  In addition I picked up 36 fuel filter cartridges – 36 of the new cartridges cost less than 6 of the old and occupy less space as well.  With freshly cleaned fuel tanks (and new inspection ports), properly treated fuel, and the new fuel-filtration system – I think the majority of my fuel problems are in the rearview. 

And that’s enough for today. 

Next up is the radar/transducer/GPS system installation.  New toys.  It’s just money, right?

Reality