A Break

Things were moving along on the boatwork front.  I’d just picked up a new crewmember.  Things were slowly returning to normal, and I was starting to get the itch.  I’d met a couple of new friends and reunited with a guy who I’d helped out in The Rosarios a couple of months ago.  These new/old friends told me about a party the coming weekend.  Great timing.

A Break

To make a long story short(er) – I managed to get the dirty work done in the ratty marina.  Then I moved the boat back to the anchorage near Club Nautico.  Then I picked up my new crewmember, Lauren, on the dock at Club Nautico.  The next couple of days were minor projects and cleaning.

The weekend was coming quickly.  We did a couple of provisioning runs.  A friend, Kenny, went on a round-the-city boat-parts-search with me.  Then, suddenly, it was Friday and I had a Colombian guy, one Californian girl, and two girls from Sweeden onboard.  We pulled anchor and headed to Cholon/Baru – just South of Cartagena – for a party.

In Cholon, there’s a small spit of sand that pokes out into the channel leading into the bay.  On this small spit of sand, there are a few tiki huts in the water.  This little spit of sand, with it’s tiki huts – are the main attraction around here.  That sounds crazy, but everything – from sailboats to powerboats to megayachts come to play around this little place.  I wanted to play too.

To Cholon

The motorsail to Cholon was uneventful.  It took a couple of hours, and I played with the sails – but we never really had enough wind.  And we were loaded down.  That many people – with enough food and water to support them, is quite a bit of weight.

As we pulled into Cholon on Thursday afternoon, the party was already in full swing – though it was going to get much bigger as the weekend progressed.  The deeper water, at the entrance, is closer to the boats/tiki huts – so we passed only a couple of feet in front of a bunch of powerboats with Colombian girls dancing on the bows.  Though the party wasn’t for us, I couldn’t have asked for a better welcoming committee.

I wasn’t ready to get into full-blown party mode quite yet.  So we anchored a mile or so into the bay, but we could still hear girls screaming and music blaring.  We had a couple of beers and practiced different ways to jump off the boat.  Mani (my Colombian buddy) presented me with a great bottle of Colombian rum, to say thanks for me helping him in the Rosarios – and letting him and the girls jump onboard for the weekend.  He teared up a little, then we killed the bottle.

The next morning we saw Kenny’s Formosa (Makai) sail into the bay.  He pulled up alongside NOMAD and we had a quick chat as we drank our coffee – me reclining on the back deck of NOMAD, him steering Makai.   Then he moved on, anchoring even further from the craziness.  Later in the day, we headed over to the party – there we made a few friends and learned how quickly the Colombian guys migrate to blonde girls in bikinis.  The girls handled it well, but if I were female – I’d dye my hair a different color rather than put up with the harassment.  A couple of times Mani and I had to, politely and with smiles, step in.

New friends

Back onboard we continued our own small party until the wee hours of the morning.  We all crashed heavily and slept well – a day full of rum in the sun will do that to you.  The next day we woke up very early and moved NOMAD into the middle of what would be a giant, rum-fueled, mess of boats and bikinis.  We were the first ones there, dropped anchor, dove the anchor, and then proceeded to start our breakfast.

Things picking up…

By 9AM things were picking up.  The Colombian powerboats were moving in, all working very hard to play music louder than the others. We just sat on my back deck and watched it happen.  By noon things were getting a little nuts, and I had vowed to not have a sip of alcohol before 2PM.  I knew the folly of starting early when you’re in the middle of a party like this.  So Kenny and I escaped – we went to look for a converted Bertram 31 (converted from inboards to outboards).  We both love the Bertram hulls, and we both love when they’ve been converted to outboards – they’re fast, stable, and efficient… We didn’t find the boat.

More people showing up…

When I got back onboard NOMAD it was near lunch.  We ate a bite, and then shortly the party really started.  We put our music into the mix and soon everyone was dancing with a beer in hand.  Boats kept piling in.  All day and all night we partied.  We were invited on other people’s boats, we made friends, we swam, we danced, and we made a Hell of a day of it.  A bunch of fun, with a bunch of people, who know how to party.

Cholon!

Winding down in Cholon

The next day was a little rough. The party had wound down, the only evidence of it was scattered around NOMAD in the form of beer cans, glasses, and sunscreen stains on the decks.  But the real kicker is that I’d become horribly ill.  Some kind of stomach bug had me and it wasn’t fun.  Mani was leaving with the Swedes, and it was all I could do to come upstairs and see them off.  My whole body hurt, and I couldn’t keep anything down.  Add to that a fever and a hangover the like of which most have never seen…   I was hurting.

I spent the day curled up below decks sweating and shivering and trying to keep (at least) water down.  Toward the end of the day I gave up and took a couple of drugs – which helped me keep food down and reduced my fever and aches.  Of course, that’s when Lauren got sick.  This continued for two days.  We just laid around and sweated and complained and occasionally we’d hear the other crawl out from their respective cave, grab some water, and head back down.  We were a pretty miserable crew, but we managed to move NOMAD out of the center of the party into a more tranquil area of Cholon Bay.

I came to the conclusion that this sickness was some sort of party-karma.  Something to punish us for having a better time than everyone else in the world that day.  I’m still not feeling 100%, so I can’t say “it was worth it” – but I can say that we had a great time, and it was well deserved.

Now, though, it’s back to reality and boatwork.  Let’s see how that feels.

A Break

All Work, No Play

I promised a list of boat work thus far in another post – after a couple of questions on the subject.  Bear with me, if you’re reading for entertainment, as this is a little slanted toward the technical and probably not entertaining.  Unless, of course, you find the idea of me doing all of this crap entertaining, in which case you could be a sadist. 

There are a variety of sayings about boats/boat maintenance and the expense and time involved.  A boat buck is a thousand dollars, for example.  I can’t remember them all, but here are a couple of my favorites:

“A boat is a floating problem which is never fully solved”

“Cruising is boat maintenance in exotic locations”

“If it ain’t broke, give it a week”

“A boat is a giant hole in the water, into which you throw money and time”

“There is no such thing as a boat without issues, just broke boat owners who insist otherwise”

Maybe that will set the tone for this post.   Let me preface this with the fact that nobody can, truly, understand the amount of work, sweat, tears, and frustration which go into refitting a cruising sailboat – until they’ve actually done it.  And God forbid you want things done correctly.  That’ll cost you much more money and many more hours on every, single project.

Engines

A buddy from Austin (who will probably read this) asked me the other day why I spend so much time with the engines if it’s a sailboat.  I did my best to remember that he lives a very long way from the ocean and didn’t have much experience doing what I’m now doing.  Remembering that helped me to not be a complete jerk and remind him that day-sailing isn’t even in the same ballpark as cruising around between countries, across the goddamn ocean.   It’s not even apples and oranges.  It’s grapefruit and soccer balls.

The dirty little secret of cruising is that you use your engine(s) much more often than most people think.  I remember, before I started cruising, thinking that I wouldn’t use my engines much, simply sail or not.  And if I needed to sail slowly, I would just do that.  Of course, all of the things I thought before cruising weren’t based on experience, so they were usually wrong. 

Make no mistake, the engine is the heart of a cruising sailboat.  Yep, I said it.  It gets you in and out of anchorages – you can sail in, but you risk losing your yacht – something that I’ve seen firsthand.  Too many cases of boats running into reefs in San Blas had to do with engine failure and engine trouble followed by a crappy decision to sail into an anchorage.  In short – very few cruisers risk their boats by trying to sail into and out of anchorages.  And if they do, they may not be cruising much longer.  Especially small or tricky anchorages. Lose wind, you’re screwed.  Get a gust, you’re screwed.  Miscalculate, you’re screwed.  When the wind switches angles, guess what? 

Your engine(s) also help when there is no wind, or when the wind is at an unfavorable angle.  Engines help get you to your anchorage before dark.  Engines help fight currents and tides. 

They also help charge your battery banks – remember you need VHF, lights, autopilot, fridge, a freshwater system, a GPS, a depth sounder, a wind instrument (the list goes on and on and on).  You have to create that energy somehow.   

Engines help set your anchor. They’re absolutely necessary in the case of a yacht drifting into you or in the case of your own yacht pulling anchor.  And in the case of a real storm when you’re at anchor, you better have the ability to push your boat against the wind.

Basically, engines are very, very important on a sailboat.   Paramount to both safety and comfort.   You can get away without them, but in reality – you don’t.  With that in mind, here’s what I’ve done in Cartagena with the engines thus far:

• compression test both engines. When they turned out OK (all three cylinders very similar in compression results), I was alright putting in more preventative maintenance.


• remove, clean, test, repair injectors


• remove, clean, test heat exchangers


• remove, clean exhaust manifolds


• clean, scrape, sand, acid-wash, and paint engines


• adjust valves and timing


• replace a long list of corroded bolts and nuts


• removed crappy engine electrical boxes, replaced with higher-quality boxes and mounted to bulkhead


• wire in new engine room blowers


• wire in lighting in engine rooms


• wire in new sensors, sensor wires, and gauges


• rewire engine control panels


• replace exhaust hose


• replace all fuel lines


• replace gasket on engine room hatches


• Add LED striplights to engine rooms (shit always breaks at night…)

Left to do:

• thermostat replacement, fresh water pumps cleaned and serviced


• paint engine rooms


• install small shelves in engine rooms


• rebuild starboard saltwater pump


• replace seals in saildrives (haul boat)


• replace pneumatic hinges for hatches


• replace soundproofing in engine rooms

Here is a before/after, note this is superficial – most of the real work happened on the inside.  Before the engines were that horrible Volvo Penta green. The soundproofing was falling all over the engine room, leaving a mess.  The blowers (the tubing) were installed in a very inconvenient place, and they didn’t work.  There was no lighting in the engine rooms.  They were rusty.

Before…

 

These pictures were actually taken at night.  Just the other night.  It looks like daylight because there are two LED lightstrips in each engine compartment (they are those glowing strips in the lower pics) that light up the engine rooms very well.  That’s a big deal when you’re rocking and rolling at night and trying to tighten an alternator belt…

Lagoon 380 Engine Room LED lighting

LED lightstips

LED lightstrips

Electrical

Modern cruising boats have a remarkable amount of electronic gadgets onboard.  It could certainly be argued that there are too many.  You need pumps, and alarms and lights and navigation equipment.  There’s no easy way around it – you’ll want/need most of these things, and if they’re onboard, they better work.  You can’t afford to have a bilge pump not working if you’re holed – for an extreme example.  And your autopilot, GPS, wind and depth are pretty important too.  Don’t forget your radar, your VHF and the host of other electric nonsense.  It’s staggering, really. 

Here’s what I’ve done so far:

• wired in four additional 1100 GPH automatic bilge pumps (two in the engine rooms, one in each hull).  If holed, I need to be able to make it to somewhere safe, and have at least one bilge pump in all but the front crash lockers.


• wired in two LED worklights over the dingy davits (handy at night when you’re working/drinking/cooking/cleaning fish on the back deck)


• replaced and rewired my main A/C electrical panel


• replaced and rewired my main D/C electrical panel


• rewired all of the major systems (with the correct wiring)


• replaced all navigation lights

Left to do:

• add LED’s to cabinets


• fix remote windlass switch


• fix wind gauge


• wire in two 75W solar panels, one on the outside of each hull (total solar 710W)


• wire in a saltwater washdown pump


• wire in an LED spreader light


• decide on radar (this is an expensive and tough decision)

Here’s a picture of the old AC/DC panel.

Old Panel – Lagoon 380

Here is a pic of the new panels, the additional bilge pump switches, and my water-tank gauge.  I went with a Paneltronics panel, WEMA gauges, and a pretty standard bilge pump switch from Rule.

New A/C D/C Panel, bilge pump switches, water level gauge

Behind the scenes…

Sails, rigging, etc. 

Surprisingly, this is an area that I haven’t had to pay much attention too.  There have been a few small things, but overall – my sails and rigging are in good shape. I do sail a fair amount, it’s just that sails aren’t mechanical/electrical and thus aren’t as prone to failure.  The real enemy here is saltwater in furling systems/winches and (most importantly) sail degradation by the sun. The next real “investment” here will be a downwind sail – I’m hoping to get into a roller-furling Code Zero style sail that I can leave on my bowsprit semi-permanently.  Naturally, those are very expensive. Same story, different day I reckon.

So far:

• mainsail luff repair


• minor gennaker patch


• rigging tensioning


• replacement of lazy jacks, rerunning them to spreaders


• replacing batten cars on sail track

Plumbing, etc

Plumbing is another one of those skills you have to understand to cruise around.  Not in great depth, but a little.

Here’s what I’m up to:

• fixing the watermaker (I hope)


• improving the connections, etc of the watermaker


• rewiring the watermaker (maybe this is electrical)


• saltwater foot pump at kitchen sink


• plumb saltwater washdown and run hose to fish-cleaning table


• finish rainwater collection on new bimini (see previous post)

 

Welding:

I’ve had to do more than a couple of things that involved welding.  So far:

• replaced rear lifelines with stainless tubing to support side-solar panels


• strengthened bimini supports with additional stainless tubing


• increased seating on the back of NOMAD (see previous post)


• strengthen my dinghy-engine lift (it’s an intelligent idea but was built very lightly, which was unintelligent)


• new dinghy davit system (see previous post)

 

Carpentry, cushions, etc:

• replaced cushions on captain’s chair


• backrest made for new seating


• dinghy cover made


• stackpack alteration


• shade enclosure for rear seating area


• Eisenglass for cockpit (for bad weather)

I need a spot to store tools and other commonly used items without having to tear apart my boat.  Especially when things break at night, shorthanded, or when I’m underway.  Pulling up cushions with greasy hands is dumb. So I decided to convert my chart table to drawers to solve this issue.  So far, so good – though I have to make some minor modifications to get it the way I want it.  Check it.

My new tool chest

I needed a couple of new wooden panels created to replace the old ones (around the electrical panels), where there was a hodgepodge of equipment thrown by previous owners. 

Finally, for my ground tackle I had to make some decisions.  In the South Pacific, there are many anchorages that are very deep.  Assuming a 3:1 rode/depth ratio (in 10M of water, I only use 30M chain – the minimum) – if I’m anchoring in 30M of water (common), I need, minimally, 90M of chain… Right now I have 45 meters of 3/8″ chain.  The usual advice is to simply increase that 45M to 80-90M.  

But that’s not ideal.  It puts a crapload of weight in the front of NOMAD.  Catamarans are super weight-sensitive.  My girl is already on the heavy-side.  So that additional weight is a problem. After thinking, talking, researching – I’ve decided that I’m going to run 5/16″ chain (smaller, lighter) in Hi-Test (from ACCO).  This chain weighs quite a bit less, and is stronger than the 3/8″ BBB from ACCO.  As a plus, it’s also cheaper.  Better and cheaper really don’t go hand-in-hand, but in this case I kinda got away with it.  I say “kinda” because that change in chain-size means I have to replace my gypsy on my windlass, which costs money.

This is far from an exhaustive list, but it’s a solid start.  I would say it represents the majority of the work I need done, but I am remarkably adept at creating more work for myself.   I hope to be done in the next month or two, considering what I’m able to actually procure in CTG.  From there, I’ll just sail and fix things along the way.   This is a couple of months of mostly working, and not mostly playing.   A couple of months of living in a boat that’s a project, but is supposed to be mi casa.  It’s stressful to live with your boat like this:

Living in a project…

Hopefully this shows the amount of actual work that’s involved in preparing for this kind of voyage. It’s not for the faint of heart or light of wallet.  The question – is it all necessary?  – is a good one.  The thing is – there’s nothing in the South Pacific.  Once you start heading West, from Panama – you’re out there on your own.  You have to make do with what you have onboard and hope it works.  So, getting this work done now – hopefully – will provide me with more cruising and less boatwork in the future.  Hopefully.

Upon rereading this, I realized I used the word “hope” more than I usually do. That’s another good indication of what cruising and boat maintenance can be like.  Lot’s of “I hope” and “hopefully.”  Alas.

All Work, No Play

First, here are a couple of quick pics that answer some questions.  My dingy comes up directly behind the seat and ties in there.  I tried a variety of ways to tie it in, but ended up running two lines, with stainless snaps, back through the clutches that were on my old davit system.  The snaps clip to the bottom of my dinghy, and when pulled through the clutches – they secure the dinghy and keep it from moving even an inch. They are stainless snaps and the dinghy is aluminum – so if I left them there for 37,984,341 years – there could be a problem with galvanic corrosion.  That’s not a huge worry for me right now though.

Lagoon 380 Dinghy Davit System

Lagoon 380 Dinghy Davit System

Lagoon 380 Dinghy Tiedown

It’s far, far more secure and stable than it’s ever been – though it took some noodling (and I chafed through my dinghy cover in a couple of places as I tried to solve this little riddle).  Onward, to the subject at hand. 

Did You Get A Good Deal On Your Boat?

I get asked this question frequently.  It seems that since I’m doing boatwork, improving and repairing systems – people want to know if I still think I got a good deal.  To be honest, it’s a dumb question.  We’re supposed to be a little more politically correct and never admit that there are dumb questions – but I’ve largely given up on political correctness.  The question in question doesn’t seem dumb, if you’re the person asking it.  It seems like an intelligent question.  Especially for those people out there dreaming about a boat or in the market for one.  And I would love to help.  If there were a way to give an accurate answer, I’d do it.

BUT

The question presupposes some kind of boat-market-omnipotence.  I can’t (nor can anyone else) know of every boat for sale in the world.  I also can’t tell what every seller would actually take for their boat.  I also can’t tell the actual condition of the boat in question, even if there is a very descriptive online ad.  Add to that large differences in gear and outfitting on every boat – and you can see why it’s next to impossible to accurately compare these kinds of boats.  Especially when you don’t keep track of the market 24/7.  The best person to ask would be a boat broker, but they rarely speak plainly about deals – good or bad.  I would use a broker again, but relying on them for “good deal / bad deal” isn’t intelligent.  And even they wouldn’t know until after they’d purchased the boat and sailed/cruised/repaired it.  And by the time they’d done that, the market would have changed again…   

The truth is, the point is absolutely moot.  I have this boat.  I’m not selling this boat.  I’m not buying another boat.  And I have absolutely no way, based on the current information and my available time to determine if there is a better deal out there.  Even if there is/was a better deal out there, it would make no difference to me – so my time is much, much better spent figuring out what else I need to buy/fix/install/maintain/learn, so that I can get my ass to the South Pacific. 

On the other hand, I can say this:  I was very ignorant getting into this.  I have learned a ton.  I don’t know if I would have purchased this boat if I knew then what I knew now.   But with all things:  motorcycles, dogs, girlfriends, trucks, real estate, etc – you often change your mind after you’ve lived with your decision.  So – you live and you learn, and it’s only through the screwups that we really learn, me thinks.

Not to say this boat was a screwup.  Though the previous owner did hide quite a bit from me, that I never would have let slip – were I looking now. But that’s pretty common too – some kind of minor/major deceit from a seller to the buyer.  Thinking about it now, I’ve only ever heard complaining about previous owners.  So, even if I were to have purchased a different boat – it’s highly likely that I would have uncovered some fairly serious issues as I sailed and repaired and maintained said boat.

This boat was beneficial for me for several reasons, but the largest is the amount of trial-by-fire experience I’ve gained. I can diagnose and fix problems on the fly that most boat owners can’t.  I’ve learned specs, how to (and the importance of) actually measuring things.  I can handle mechanical, plumbing, carpentry and electrical issues – all without freaking out.  I can tell you the right solution to an SSB grounding problem, or fill your refrigeration system with the right freon (which I have onboard), or plumb and wire a wash down pump, or fix most problems on simple diesel engines.  Want to talk electricity management?  Water makers?  I know where to buy the right gear and know how to decide what the right gear is.  I still get stumped from time to time, but I know who to ask.  I still screwup, but I fix those screwups. Overall, this confidence in and understanding of my onboard systems is super-important – especially considering what isn’t in the South Pacific (see: civilization).  As far as purchasing a Lagoon 380 being a good decision?  I don’t know.  I’d love to sail faster, but I’d hate to have any more sensitivity to weight or give up any space.  I’d love to have more waterline, but with more boat you have more expense as you upgrade/repair.  I’m satisfied, usually, with the Lagoon 380.  It’s the most popular sailing catamaran in the history of sailing catamarans.  That says something. 

There’s also an immense amount of gear that I would have purchased and installed regardless of the boat I purchased.  And because I (arguably) paid less than market value on this particular boat, I was able to customize it and make it fit me without spending too much more than necessary. 

There’s the argument that if I had bought a different boat, I may have had to replace less.  That’s probably true, but then I’d be living with the mechanical/electrical decisions of another human with different goals.  My boat is a reflection of the things I value and the way I want to live – which is the way it should be.  And everything I replace is now new, meaning (in theory) it will be a while before I have to replace it again.

An example of the difference in priorities between boat owners is that I have a small marine diesel generator onboard that rarely works.  But it’s wired and plumbed and sometimes it works.  Most guys think that’s a problem when my genset doesn’t work.  But most guys need a generator to supply their energy needs.  It’s not a huge problem to me, because I installed a bunch of solar, with the correct wiring, on an arch that doesn’t get shaded and it all runs to an MPPT controller.  The vast majority of my energy needs (like 99%) are supplied by the solar – which doesn’t burn diesel, doesn’t eat impellers, doesn’t overheat, and doesn’t make noise.  It starts every morning when the sun comes up without me having to even leave my bed.  I don’t “need” a generator.  But another owner would probably have replaced this one, and passed on that cost to me – the buyer. 

Here’s another example:  Maybe another owner would have put a wind-generator onboard.  They’re ugly, loud, and dangerous.  They shade your solar.  Oh, and they’re expensive.  You can put up a ton more solar for the cost of a single POS wind-generator.  It’s not pleasant having a yacht pull into your quiet, tranquil, anchorage with one of those noisy wind-generators.  Or God forbid, two of those wind-generators.  But sellers buy them, and then try to pass on the costs to buyers.

So.

Did I get a good deal?  I have absolutely no way of knowing that.  If really pressed, I’d say that it’s close enough to a good deal that I don’t feel robbed.  I’d also admit that if I had been more patient and more knowledgeable, I probably could have purchased something with a higher market value without putting in much more money.  But if we all wait until we have all of the knowledge and we wait for the perfect deal… Well, we die.  NOW  has a monetary value too. 

Another approach

Because I know some people are going to be unhappy with this answer, allow me to explain this another way, outside of monetary or perceived value.  Simply to illustrate how this “did you get a good deal” question serves to add no value.  Here goes. 

Most of the people who ask me this have a wife/husband.  If asked by married man whether I got a good deal on my boat, I would respond with, “Did you get a good deal on your wife?”

Seriously.

Maybe there is a better wife for you out there. Maybe there’s one that works out more, or is a hellcat in the sack.  Or younger.  Maybe your better deal won Miss Alabama when she was 23.  Maybe you’d even be able to stand your mother in law if you got a better deal.  Maybe there’s one out there that can cook a mean lasagna.  Maybe the best deal would have been the daughter of some oil tycoon and had a whole fleet of boats that she was just waiting to bequeath to someone.  Someone like you.

Or maybe it’s a moot point.  Because until you divorce this one (see:  sell your boat), you’re not going to get another one.  And we can all agree that divorce (selling your boat) is a messy and costly process.  And the truth is – it’s really hard to know who you actually married (see:  the shape of the boat you bought) without dating for a long time.  The facades can take a while to break down. 

In the boat world, you don’t get to date for two years before make the big decision.  You’re lucky if you get a month. You may buy sight-unseen.  You may only get to see your potential match once. 

This kind of boat, for this kind of journey, is a long-term relationship.  You buy the boat, then you fix/outfit it, then you go on your journey.  You have to put in (too much) time, money, blood, sweat, and tears.  And when you get to the point that you’ve purchased the boat – what is or is not a good deal makes absolutely no difference.  In 90% of circumstances you’re stuck with what you have.

So, before you go and ask someone if they got a good deal on a boat…  Think about whether you got a good deal on your significant other.  Or if your kids are the “right” kids. 

Afterall, maybe there’s a better deal out there.  If only you’d waited and watched the market…

Did You Get A Good Deal On Your Boat?

Sorry for the radio silence.  If you’re wondering what could possibly keep me from posting, I’ll give you a couple of scenarios and let you pick. 

1)  Maybe I was abducted by a local drug lord and imprisoned in a room without outside contact.  Maybe then I was held for a week or two until the daughter of said drug lord stumbled into the room by accident, immediately fell in love with me, and she convinced the drug lord to release me.

2)  Or maybe I was just neck-deep in boat projects, treading water, and didn’t have the time or mental energy to post. 

Pick one of the above, whichever floats your proverbial boat. Whichever option you choose, I did manage to get some work done on S/V NOMAD.  Quite a bit, really.  It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you have a buddy who has been refitting boats for 30 years, some cheap labor, you’re not drinking, and you’re working from dawn to after dark.  It hasn’t been cheap, it hasn’t been fun, but it has been productive. 

Lagoon 380 Improvements

There were two major accomplishments over this week and a ton before.  One was metalwork, the other was cleaning diesel tanks. I’ll go back and list the other work that I’ve had done shortly.  But I wanted to answer a couple of emails/questions about the recent metalwork.  Two things prompted this metalwork – an attempt to use the unused space on the rear of NOMAD, and the need to lift my larger/longer dinghy without getting caught on the interior of my hulls as I raised it.  With that in mind, here are some pictures. 

Lagoon 380 Rear Solar Arch

I’m gonna start with the arch, because I’ve been threatening to do a little write-up on it to answer some previous questions.  The arch is super, super handy.  It’s the bees-knees for unshaded solar production, which is it’s main purpose.  It has all of my antennas, it has my dinghy engine lift, it has my LED work lights on it.  It has my fish-cleaning table, and it has a couple of fishing-rod holders that allow me to troll a nice spread.

The arch spans the inside of my two hulls and is slightly higher than my bimini-hardtop.  It’s attached to my hulls at four points, two on each hull – which slope downward.  It was very stable, even when we hung on it or swung from it.  Now it is much, much stronger as we’ve tied it into the old davit system and the rear-seating.  Here’s a rear view, with some fancy arrows.

Lagoon 380 Rear Arch View

Lagoon 380 Arch Attachments

The dinghy engine lift is a handy contraption that I use very frequently, it’s attached to the upper part of the arch on my starboard side.  It makes removing the outboard a one-person job and I don’t have to stress about dropping my outboard in the water.  That’s a real concern in a rocky anchorage, shorthanded.  And I love my outboard, so I’d likely be pretty unhappy if it went swimming.   The lift swings out, I drop the block and tackle and then raise it and drop the outboard on the outboard holder-thing (the white piece of starboard).

Dinghy Engine LIft

Then there’s the fish-cleaning table, which is attached about belly-height on the portside of my arch.  It folds out and is really solid – solid enough that I often attach a vise to it when I’m working.  People have used it as a diving board, but that’s dumb.  It’s in rough shape now as we’ve been working on other things and not worrying much about cosmetics. Check it.

Folding Fish Cleaning Table

Fish Cleaning Table Foldout

Lagoon 380 Rear Seating

Moving on, the rear seating.  If anyone actually wants measurements, I can make that happen.  Just lemme know.  The first thing we did was remove the upper and lower lifelines off of the rear.  The we moved the lower lifeline down a bit and made it a single stainless tube.  Next, we decided on the height of the seating platform (also stainless tubing) and then figured out how to tie it all in.  The goal was to tie the seating platform to the arch and the old davit system.  We accomplished this, and I have to say I really like it.  The seat is Starboard, which is a PITA to work with, but is solid and great in a marine environment. Finally we added cushions for both the lower lifelines and backrest of the seat, which in effect gives me two seating platforms with cushioned backrests. 

Lagoon 380 Seating Rearview

Lagoon 380 rear seating

Old davits, new seating attachment

I would change two things about this design – I would slope the seat upward as it goes forward to create a natural incline keep everyone in the back of the seat.  I would also hang the Starboard over the metal tubing on the bottom of the seat about two inches, giving a bit more seating surface area. 

Lagoon 380 Davit System

The davits that come with the Lagoon 380 are, in my opinion, sub-par.  They aren’t as strong as they could be, and they leave the dinghy relatively low over the water.  To be fair, they do work – they just don’t work as well as they could.  In addition, because of the way they hang between the hulls, you’re restricted in dinghy-length to what can fit between the hulls. 

I fixed these problems with the new davits, but I didn’t tackle this project by choice.  I tackled it after finding my new dinghy a little too long for the previous davit system.  A matter of an inch or two. 

The new system is better, stronger, higher, and it extends far enough over the rear of NOMAD that the dinghy does not come up between the hulls.  That, in turn, allows you to put whatever length dinghy you want on the davits.  Winning. 

Again, the goal here was to tie the davit system into the existing stainless structures to make them all stronger.  We succeeded.  Of course it needed to be very, very strong as it is inevitable that I’ll end up smashing through rough seas with the dinghy on these davits…

Triangles are very strong shapes.  We used them effectively to stabilize the davits both up and down, and left and right.  Even when the dinghy (with the outboard on it) is swinging back and forth on the davits, it creates no movement on the davits themselves.  In fact, you can now stand in the dinghy – a thing I wouldn’t have dared to do with the old system.

There are three main supports on each side of the davit system, and a top bar between each side.  The long bar that extends at an angle downward actually connects to the remnants of my old davit system.  It provides vertical and horizontal stabilization and is the thing that really tied the whole system together. Here’s a repeat pic, but it helps.

Lagoon 380 Seating Rearview

The only issue that I have with this system now is that I have to raise the dinghy very high, and tie it down very well to keep it from rocking when we catch a beam wave.  This is more an issue of me being a bit lazy than it is a design flaw.  All-in-all, I think the metalwork is done.  And done well.  Overall I can think of no downside, except that it wasn’t cheap and that it added weight.  Alas, everything is a compromise.   There are two things I would improve aesthetically too, but that’s for a later date. 

Lagoon 380 Fuel Tank Inspection Port

In the next post I’ll outline all of the work I’ve done on the engines.  Let me just say – they’re completely overhauled and are, in many ways, as good as new.  They crank up, cold, without even making a complete revolution. For older diesel engines, this is great. 

BUT 

I kept having problems.  With fuel.  Over the last few months I’ve flushed the tanks twice, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.  Every once in a while, usually when I’m pulling into a crowded anchorage, I’d lose an engine due to a clog in the fuel lines.  My fuel filters were fine, and I have an additional electric fuel pump that helps move plenty of fuel – so it was a matter of fairly large crud blocking my intake lines (inside my tanks). 

There are two fixes for this:  1) flush the tanks again and hope for the best  2) pull the tanks out, cut them open, clean them, and then weld an inspection port on the top of them so I can clean them and never, ever have to remove them again. 

Being of the mindset that I would rather do things once and do them right, I chose what was behind door number two.  This presented plenty of problems and some additional expense, but it was the right decision – of that I am completely sure.

The first step was getting the fuel out of the tanks. This isn’t fun, but we did it with a small 12V pump.  Then we had to get the damn tanks out.  Lagoon did an excellent job here, they made it very simple (compared to almost any other boat) to remove the fuel tanks.  We had only to disconnect some hoses, remove a door and some paneling, and then do some angle-magic with the tanks to remove them. That is, though, where I stop giving Lagoon credit on the fuel tanks. 

Lagoon 380 Fuel Tank Removal

ALL MARINE FUEL TANKS SHOULD HAVE (LARGE) INSPECTION PORTS.  That’s a fact.  I can’t understand, for the life of me, why anyone would make a marine fuel tank without a large inspection port allowing the user to see and clean the inside of the tank WITHOUT REMOVING THE FUEL TANKS. 

Anyways.

We pulled the tanks and cleaned up the area around/under them. 

Then the fun started.  I needed to find the baffles (divisions in the tanks that keep the fuel from sloshing when you’re bouncing around at sea), and then center a large cutout over the baffle(s).  Come to find out there is only one baffle in the tank, which is almost centered.  I then needed to decide how large the cutout would need to be. 

Of note here – you shouldn’t create any kind of inspection port with corners on it.  Sharp corners are a point of failure and a point where the tanks will leak.  A 2” radius corner is the minimum.  So I created a template from some stiff paper, then centered it on the baffles on the tanks, then outlined it with a marker. 

Then I taped the line I needed to cut with blue masking tape.  This is almost mandatory for an amateur (like me) to keep straight lines.  With this complete I drilled a hole near the line, and started cutting with a jigsaw.  I broke one blade very quickly, but managed to do all of the other cutting without breaking another blade. 

Lagoon 380 Fuel Tank Inspection Port

With the first tank cut open, I was very happy I made the decision to do this.  Here’s what the inside of your diesel tanks should never look like.  Incidentally, this is also what the inside of my diesel tanks looked like.  Not cool and not my fault – but definitely my problem.  15 years of abuse led to this. 

Lagoon 380 Fuel Tank Cutout

Anyways.

The next step is filing down the sides of the cutout so you don’t have to take a trip to the emergency room after cleaning the tanks.  Next, we washed, scrubbed, and sanded the inside of the tanks until they shone.  We literally polished them.  It was nasty work that hurt one’s back, but we did it and did it well. 

Then, with both tanks out, with both cutouts complete, and with both of them clean, we designed the inspection port.  The top plate of the inspection port needed to screw down tightly, with a gasket to prevent leaking.  That means we needed to weld a lip on the tank itself, then drill and tap some holes in said lip, then find and cut the gasket, etc.

Since I had plenty to do and I haven’t learned welding yet – I farmed this out.  My welding guy is good.  Really good.  And though not cheap, he’s remarkably fair in his prices.  Compared to anybody in The States – he is a bargain.  I felt confident in his abilities so I sent the tanks home with him when he was done with my davit system. 

He screwed the pooch on this one though.  I guess you can’t expect perfection, but this was a disappointment. 

I got the tanks back a little later than planned, that matters because I’m paying to keep the boat at a marina that I hate, staying on a friend’s boat, and my boat isn’t secure at this spot.  But we got the tanks back. 

When I got them back, I clearly asked if they had been cleaned inside.  I was told they had.  I asked the gent to open the inspection ports and show me.  This is where everything went to shit.  We used aluminum screws to prevent galvanic corrosion (something I’ll never do again, rather I’ll use stainless screws and coat them with a compound that prevents galvanic corrosion).  The aluminum screws began falling apart.  Before we had both tanks open we had four screws that were completely unusable.

The issue wasn’t really the screws though.  The issue was the crappy job of drilling/tapping the top plate, the gasket, and the tanks.  The holes just weren’t aligned.  I called the welder, I wasn’t happy.  He apologized and told me he was rushing to get them to me on time. 

I was pissed, but that wasn’t helping so I settled in to the tedious task of retapping 40 different holes in the tanks.  Of course, I’d never tapped a hole – but trial-by-fire has always worked for me and this was no exception.  Then, of course, the tanks weren’t clean on the inside – so we cleaned them again. Then we had to install them.  I had crew coming in the next day, so there was schedule pressure – but we got it done before 9PM, at which point we ate and immediately fell asleep. 

The finished product wasn’t pretty, but it is very sturdy and very functional.  The tanks can now be inspected, cleaned, and re-sealed all by removing a single floor panel (and the inspection port).  In the future, this will be a quick job.  Truthfully, though, I doubt I will have to clean the tanks again – I’m religious about using a Baja filter and the tanks are very, very clean right now. 

Lagoon 380Fuel Tanks w/Inspection Port

Long story short?  We (me and a couple specialists) kicked ass.  The boat is in better shape than it’s ever been.  I’m ready for a vacation.  And I promise to update more when I’m not neck-deep in boat projects and treading water. 

Until then, salud.

Lagoon 380 Improvements

Mo Dinghy, Mo Problems

I had a dinghy.  It was a decent dinghy.  It had lost air only once in the history of me owning it and only leaked a bit of water.  Not a big deal.  It didn’t look great, but this isn’t a fashion show.  All that said, I am very skeptical that it would last another four or five years.  To me, my dinghy and dinghy engine are almost as important as the mothership S/V NOMAD – because I explore, dive, and fish from my dinghy.  As a matter of fact, it’s the source of the most fun and entertainment I have onboard, hands down.  Oh, and it hauls water, food, fish, people, workers, equipment, tools… You get the point – everything that comes to S/V NOMAD, comes via my dinghy.

Knowing that my current dinghy was iffy (for the next five years) it made more sense to me to buy a new dinghy now – and get the benefit of it now – rather than buy one later after I had patched and re patched and fought with my old dinghy.  So I decided to replace my old dinghy while I could still sell it.

Buying a New Dinghy 

There are a myriad of choices in dinghies now.  I wanted to dive with mine.  Meaning that it needed to be easy to dive from, stable, lightweight, and tough.  Most cruisers simply use their dinghy to go to land occasionally.  For me, I use the dingy for everything fun.  That really leaves me with two options:  a large hard dinghy or a large RIB inflatable.

I looked at a variety of dinghies, got quotes from everywhere and talked with a thousand different people about dinghies and designs and options.  I would have preferred a good hard-dinghy (because they never deflate) but they are remarkably heavy when compared to inflatables, and one thing I don’t need onboard is more weight.  I was specifically looking at the Livingston boats, they still appeal to me, but again – the weight was the issue. Weight stresses davits and adds weight to my catamaran, which is already a heavy boat.  This left me with only once design choice:  RIB.

Within RIBs (Rigid Inflatable Boats, a combination of a hard-bottom and inflatable tubes as sides) – there are a myriad of options, brands, etc. The newest development in this marketplace is the use of aluminum as the material for the bottom of the RIB.  This has several advantages:  it is very light, it is very strong, and it is resistant to scratching or holing if driven over a reef or when pulled up onshore.  Basically, they’re one step closer to bulletproof, while being extremely light.  That appealed to me because I needed a lightweight, tough dinghy that is larger than the one I am replacing.   The problem here is that they are very, very expensive.  The more economical option is the fiberglass dinghy but it is heavy and not as tough, given the same size. 

So this was my dilemma.  When I began my research, it looked like the 11 foot aluminum dinghies would be out of my budget – many of the prices coming in around $7K, which is absolutely outrageous.  I was set on the 11 as I felt like I needed more room for diving, and (in the AB line) the 11 footer had a much thicker hull than the 10 footer – while being lighter than my current 10 foot fiberglass dinghy. 

I talked to enough people and eventually found out that AB Inflatables (who is the leader in aluminum RIBs) actually has a factory in Colombia, where I would soon be.  Through a friend I was able to get in touch with the factory sales rep and start questioning him.  The quotes he provided were very reasonable, compared to prices elsewhere for AB aluminum dinghies, which made me seriously consider the aluminum again.

Of course, there were issues.  I had a brand-new Yamaha Enduro 15 HP outboard.  The problem is that it was short-shaft and the AB 11 foot aluminum (AB AL 11) required a long-shaft outboard.  I considered buying a long-shaft outboard, but the prices in Colombia were astronomical compared to Panama, when I finally got a quote.  This made me balk. The last thing I wanted to do was cause more problems for myself.  Bear with me though, as that’s exactly what I did…

After thinking and talking and a million different emails I decided to not get the AB AL 11, due to the issue of the short/long shaft outboard.  I conveyed this to the sales rep, he quickly replied that they would make a custom version of the AB 11 AL for me, so I wouldn’t have to buy a long-shaft outboard.  This was great news, and it pushed me toward buying the dinghy.  The downside was that it would take 6-8 weeks to get the dinghy and it would be delivered in Colombia – meaning I couldn’t have it right away and I would absolutely need to get to Colombia if I did, indeed, buy the dinghy.

To make a long story short, I hemmed and hawed and eventually decided to pull the trigger.  This was an “investment” in my future trouble-free freediving, spearfishing, and exploring.  It wasn’t too hard to convince myself, except for the wallop my pocketbook would take. But I did it.  I placed the order.

But due to intermittent internet access, some strange credit card rules with AB, and the reputation Colombia has – I didn’t actually place the order for two weeks after I originally sent in my credit card info.  Typical cruising problems.

Mo Dinghy, Mo Problems

The good news is that I got the dinghy the other day.  It’s beautiful, I love it, and it really does making diving and exploring so much better and more fun.  Adding to my cruising experience is something best done at the beginning of this adventure, i reckon – so this is all good. 

AB Inflatables Lammina 11 AL

The bad news is that after I got it out to the boat, because of the arrangement of my arch, the closeness of the hulls, and the design of the davit-system – this dinghy is very close to working in my current setup – but doesn’t.  I could make it work, as is, but it would require two people to lift the damn thing – and that’s just not intelligent.  There are many a time when I lift the dinghy alone. 

This was heartbreaking, but could have been avoided.  I’ve become fairly adept at kicking my own self in the ass.  The real kicker is that I would now not be able to raise my dinghy at night.  And there’s nothing more appealing than a brand-new dinghy and a brand-new Yamaha Enduro 15 – to the thieves in this part of the world.  I was able to borrow a heavy chain to lock the dinghy to the mothership while I sorted out my davit issue.

AB Inflatables Lammina 11 AL

The davit issue was a real one.  Even as I write this it’s not totally sorted.  But we’ve made some progress and welding began on the solution already. 

The solution was fairly apparent, but the devil is always, always in the details.  Especially when you’re talking about welding heavy-duty stainless onto an existing structure in the hopes that it will not only lift your dinghy – but take shock loads when the dinghy is slamming around back there in bad weather.  This had to be absolutely, totally correct. Overbuilt should be an understatement.

And since I’m having this done, I might as well correct another issue that was designed into the construction of the boat – a low-hanging davit system.  A low hanging davit system can mean real trouble if you have a following sea and you catch a breaking wave, into your dinghy hanging on said davit system – that means the whole structure on the back of your boat get’s ripped off.  You don’t just lose your dingy – you may very well lose your boat.  A fairly serious concern.

I was lucky (?) in that I had an existing heavy-duty arch which I could add onto.  That’s a big deal and most people don’t have this heavy-duty of an arch, especially on catamarans.  I lucked out. 

Since this needed to be 100% correct, I went into town, bought a 2×4 and cut it into two pieces. Then we mocked up what I thought would be the right solution and then I brought out the welder and other people smarter than me to help me with the solution.  After an hour or so of playing with things, we came up with a rough idea of the materials needed and a sketch of the solution.

Then it was up to the welder.  This guy is pretty damn good and I trust his instincts on welding and structural strength – he proved that to me when he strengthened my dinghy engine lift, my bimini support structure, and my additional seating on the rear of NOMAD.  The welder made his measurements, gave me a quote, and we were off to the races.  This was going to take some time and we needed to cut and weld and support and tie everything together and it couldn’t look like shit.  It needed to look good (though I like the look of stainless on catamarans, almost without exception).  Not a small job, not an inconsequential job – but we got it started.

So how did my dinghy buying go?  Great.  I have the dinghy that I want, it even has my boat-name on the side of it.  It was delivered directly to Club Nautico, where I was anchored. I’m having a dinghy-cover made.  The only issue is that I really, really opened up a bag of worms when I decided to increase the size of my dinghy.  That was, though, a perfectly rational response to the problem I was presented with – an aging dinghy that had proved too small for my freediving/spearfishing/exploring/fishing. 

The end-result of the dingy davit debacle is yet to be seen, but as soon as I figure it out – I’ll post up some pics and let you know how it went.  I have high hopes, but these things rarely go as planned.   After it’s all tied together, I’ll also take some pictures (maybe some video?) of the arch and davit system.  I’ve had a couple of requests for this (sorry guys!) and will comply. Eventually. 

Mo Dinghy, Mo Problems

I was just back from a wedding in Costa Rica.  For the first night I stayed on Disneyland, a friend’s yacht on the dock at Club Nautico in Cartagena, Colombia.  I arrived late, tired, and hungry. S/V NOMAD was still in a ratty marina down the road in a ghetto in Colombia – having some surgery done.

Boatwork in Cartagena

The amount of work being done on NOMAD here in Cartagena is staggering.  Though I’m enlisting help, it’s still enough to keep me and several other people busy, nearly full-time.   It’s a common question when a meet a landlubber here:  “so you don’t have a job?  What do you do all day?”  The answer is always the same:  “Work on the boat.”  It blows people’s mind to think that a guy (and several other guys) can spend all day working on the boat and still have a million boat projects.   Let me set your mind at ease – it’s possible. 

The truth is that I am doing as much as possible here in CTG.  The reasoning is fairly simple – the boatwork here is fairly high-quality and fairly cheap.  Here I can have a high level of service  for a fraction of the price that it would cost in The States.  I’ll list everything in a follow up post, but suffice it to say – it’s an immense amount of boatwork.   The issue is what it always is – every cent I spend is a cent that I can’t spend sailing around.  I’m shortening my cruising time by spending money… 

Living in the City

With S/V NOMAD in said ratty marina, it wasn’t practical to stay onboard.  The boat was a construction zone, the marina was difficult to get to, and I would have to call a relatively expensive taxi to get around the city.  I chose, instead, to stay at a cheap hostel in the heart of the city.  This was a good, though slightly more expensive choice.   Here’s NOMAD in the marina, docked next to a sunken boat and a tiny wooden pirate ship that sailed every couple of days. The name of the sailboat in the second picture always made me laugh…

NOMAD docked

The pirate

Sunken Boat

The fiberglass and welding work was supposed to take 10 days, maximum.  And before then I’d drawn sketches, figured out pricing, engaged the right guys, and paid half upfront – so they could buy the material.  Staying in the marina was about $25/day and my hostel was about $15/day for a private room.  Add to that the cost of eating out and the inevitable increase in consumption of alcohol that comes with wandering around CTG – and you can see how this would get expensive.  It did get expensive, but it was nice to walk “home” through the plaza and see familiar faces and drink cheap beer and eat good hamburgers.  Living on a boat while it is in project-mode sucks.  It really, really sucks.

So when, as I suspected, the boat work ran over schedule – I decided to begin my next project without the other previous projects being completed yet.  The next project was to clean the engine rooms, clean, sand, and scrape the engines, and then paint the engines and engine rooms.  Not too difficult, but hot, filthy, and tedious.  I enlisted the help of a local guy named Fernando, at the recommendation of a very good (and relatively new) friend in CTG – let’s call him Kyle.  Kyle has some epic stories, and get’s most excited telling the ones where they ran contraband from the Bahamas to Florida, or his treasure hunting stories, or the stories about the long list of bands he did lighting and sound for.  The list, printed on some very old and very yellow paper – contains all of the greats of the 70’s, 80’s and a couple from the 90’s.  All of the greats, really.  Kyle is an interesting, and very helpful, human being. 

So Fernando and I were in the engine rooms.  The process of making the engine rooms habitable wasn’t easy, but it was straightforward.  We were repairing 15 years of abuse and trying to prevent any additional corrosion. 

Here was the process:

• Clean the engine rooms in their entirety.  Removing all water, all oil, all diesel, all dirt and grime. 


• Scrape and peel the cheap soundproofing off of the bulkhead on the engine rooms,  which was falling apart and causing a mess in the engine rooms.


• Clean the engine rooms again.


• Degrease the engines.  (Simple Green, mineral spirits and gasoline)


• Scrape the peeling paint off of the engines.


• Pick and scrape and sand as much rust off of the engines as we could.


• Clean the engine rooms again.


• Apply another coat of Simple Green.


• Apply a coat of Ospho – a phosphoric acid compound that converts rust.


• Sand, pick, and scrape again.


• Clean the engine rooms again.


• Apply another coat of Ospho.


• Apply High-Heat Rustoleum to the engines in three coats, about twenty minutes apart.

Mind you, this was done on two engines.  There were five days spent covered in grime and sweat, in cramped quarters, in tortuous heat, and without much of a break.  There were plenty of harsh chemicals, and even some acid.  It wasn’t fun.  In fact, the only time I’ve sweated nearly as much was the time I spent in Iraq – walking around the desert with 100 pounds of gear and body armor.  Regardless of how much water I drank, I simply couldn’t stay hydrated.  In short – it sucked. 

It took two of us five full days to clean, prep and paint the engines.  In fact, it took so long that I ended up taking the boat back to Club Nautico without the engines being painted – but they were fully prepped. 

So I was back in the anchorage in Club Nautico with most of the heavy-lifting done.  What was supposed to take 10 days (giving a 3 day margin for error) took 15 days.  And even then we weren’t finished. 

The reason I was moored at said ratty marina (which was perfectly safe and reasonably priced):  I was having my bimini fiberglassed, some deck-rot repaired, and having some welding done to add seating to the deck area.  We took the bimini off in Club Nautico, so they could make a mold. 

Removing Lagoon 380 bimini

NOMAD Sans Bimini

Previously on NOMAD the bimini was cloth.  Cloth biminis are OK, but they have more than a couple of downsides.   They chafe, they wear out, they get holes, they don’t retain their waterproofness, etc.  And Sunbrella, the stuff we use to cover biminis is very expensive material.  So when my cloth bimini started to go, I did some math and thought about how much I hate replacing things – and decided to splurge a bit and have it fiberglassed – which is a near-permanent solution when done correctly.  The beauty of this is that I had complete say over what was done.  So I was able to install a hatch so that I stand and put my head through the bimini to navigate if I needed to.  I was also able to have the bimini constructed with a lip on it – so now I have a rainwater catch-system up 24/7.  That’s a very, very important improvement.  I could go into the details, but I’ll just show pictures and tell you that there were a million tiny things that we hadn’t quite thought of that came up along the way – despite having some pretty experienced and sharp people on the job. 

Lagoon 380 fiberglass bimini

Lagoon 380 fiberglass bimini water catching spout

Lagoon 380 bimini water catching lip

Lagoon 380 bimini hatch

The deck rot wasn’t too serious, but did need to be repaired quickly.  Deck rot is what happens when water gets in between the sandwich of fiberglass (it’s two pieces of fiberglass with a balsa core), from which the boat is constructed.  In my case, the culprit was an improperly installed snap that a previous owner had installed on the deck.  The snap allowed water to penetrate the fiberglass sandwich, and that caused the balsa core to rot.  That made the deck soft and spongy, which is a problem.  The longer you leave it, the worse the problem.  I noticed it in San Blas but opted to leave it to CTG – where I could have a pro tackle the job.  It’s another straightforward but tedious process.  This was in a part of my deck that got a lot of traffic, so it needed to be done correctly and needed to look good.

Here’s what we did:

• Guessed how extensive the area of rot was by what was soft underfoot.


• Figured out how to cut the deck out (top or bottom) to make it look good and hide any lines that would be a result of cutting through the deck. 


• Cut the top part of the deck out.


• Scraped the rotted core out.


• Used epoxy to completely fill the void.


• Replaced the cut-out and finished it so that it looked good.  Really good.

Deck Rot Repair

Finally, the other thing that was being tackled was some additional seating on the back side of NOMAD.  I wanted another seating area for parties and for when we sailed.  The truth is that if you’re sailing, everyone wants to hang out outside.  I’m running around trimming sails and tightening lines and checking fishing poles – and whoever else is onboard is typically relaxing on the back deck.  That’s fine, but that puts them directly in my path when I’m moving from one side of the boat to the other.  That doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when you’re in a hurry (for instance:  tacking) – it’s a massive pain in the ass and adds a little friction to what should be a fun and enjoyable day sailing.  I chose to remedy this by removing the rear lifelines, and welding a structure that extended out over my davit system with a bench-seat.  Anyone sitting/laying/relaxing there is completely out of the way.  And now I can fit more than 28 people onboard for a party :)

Lagoon 380 Additional Seating

There were a myriad of concerns in this process, but the end-goal was straightforward:  tie all of the stainless structure at the rear of the boat together to add strength as well as seating.  We didn’t get it right the first time, but we got close.  Here’s a picture of the new structure, the seat itself was made from Starboard and attached to the stainless tubing with (wait for it…)  zipties.  I could have attached it with stainless fittings, but the truth about stainless is that it rusts in the marine environment.  So I opted to go with plastic zipties  and replace them every couple of years.  Cheap, easy, and they don’t rust. The mistake we made is that we opted to use a piece of stainless tubing in place of the old lifelines, but this created a footrest for the bench that was uncomfortably high.   So, after all was said and done, I had to take NOMAD back to the ratty marina and have the stainless cut off, moved down, and re-welded.  Not the way I would have preferred to do things, but you don’t always get it right the first time. 

That’s a small taste of the work going on on NOMAD right now.  Just a taste.  In the next few posts I’ll outline the projects completed and the projects left to be completed.  The goal, right now, is to have NOMAD ready to cross the Pacific when she leaves port in Cartagena.  No doubt, things will go wrong between CTG and my next port in The Pacific.  No doubt.  But I’ll be much more and better prepared and there will be fewer things falling apart around me. The value of doing less boat work, of having less moments of panic when things break, and of being confident in one’s yacht, cant’ be overstated.

The voyage across the Pacific isn’t one to be taken lightly and, if I can slow the monetary hemorrhaging that is boat ownership, it will take a couple of years.

Boatwork in Cartagena