Low-Buck Arts & Crafts at Stately Jones Manor

      "In the meadow, we can build a snowman..."
                                              -Felix Bernard



    ......  or not.


      As I write this, the temperature outside has nosedived to around -23 celsius.

      I am not nearly masochistic enough to calculate the windchill.

      If one is a skier, skater, ice fisherman, snowmobiler, snowboarder or snowshoer, one might enjoy freely frolicking in this frozen frontier.
 
      I, however, am none of the above.

      I am a sailor.

     And I am NOT going outside into this fucking frozen freakshow unless I absolutely have to.

      Luckily, I have a punchlist of off-season boat work to keep me occupied  until the lake ceases to be a solid mass entirely, and utterly, incapable of floating a boat.

     Doing something with our wobbly and plain saloon table was near the top of the "Boat projects that can be accomplished from the comfort of SJM" list.

     I've got some ideas for this project, boldly going where I had never gone before, but first: a warm-up project, an  aft cabin amuse-bouche if you will:

     Fixing the TV wall.


      The previous owners installed a small flat screen TV- its removal prior to sale has left an ugly blight in an otherwise very pleasant  aft cabin.

     SWMBO and I ruminated over this disfigurement throughout the season, and finally came up with an idea:

     A piece of scrap luan, some wood glue, and a cheap spreader to quickly, evenly and economically spread the adhesive....

      Then, trim a chart to size...

      Apply the chart to the very sticky board....

   Slather more glue on top, recalling skills vaguely remembered from elementary school art class decoupage projects.  While waiting for all that glue to dry, construct a frame from scrap mahogany trim...

Assemble  and varnish......

 ...and install (right side up) when the weather warms up.

  Right, so, feeling cocky, I got back to that saloon table....

     My initial thought was that we needed a larger table that would tie into the stripper pole, er, compression post. Upon further measuring and headscratching I realized that bigger is not better in this case.  Enlarging the table would make our current expansive and inviting recroom feel like  a cramped and cluttered cell, with a table that would be difficult to move around  and would prevent the locker door under the stove from opening fully.

So, the table can get no bigger.
Okay.
It does, however need to be more stable, so I lengthened the collar underneath, that fits over the post.  Now, no wobble.

But, there is a crapload of winter left, and it is a rather plain table, so I might as well try to figure out marquetry.

     Marquetry, as defined by the OED: "Inlaid work made from small pieces of coloured wood or other materials, used for the decoration of furniture."

     So, a supply run to Lee Valley Tools  was in order.  I needed glue, veneer.... that was pretty much it.

     I still managed to spend damn near $200.

     It's that kind of store.

     I bought a "box of veneer" which was exactly as described- a pizza box full of very thin sheets of a variety of different woods:

Like, 80-100 square feet of the stuff.

The table in question is about 3 square feet.


I quickly cobbled together a low-buck veneer cutting jig- a piece of scrap ply for a bed, some aluminum angle and scraps of luan trimmed to create 90 degree, 45 degree and 22.5 degree guides to simplify the math...

   

 ... and discovered the tricks to cutting very thin, very brittle pieces of wood...  after destroying a bunch of very thin, very brittle pieces of wood.

Luckily, I had a lot of it.

After marking the center on the table, and the half way polints on all four sides, I laid out a simple geometric design, and proceeded to cut and tape and glue and clamp and swear my way to an end result;

   

       It still needs some sanding and a few more coats of varnish, but I'm not completely embarassed by the end result.

    And I still have a crapload of veneer left over.

   And a crapload of winter.

   I rummaged through the scrap pile and did some sketching and came up with a plan for a simple cockpit table.  A little ply, some reclaimed teak trim from DonorBoat, and the basics are done:

 

   

   the rough work is done, now it's just a matter of mortising and installing the hinges, final sanding, and finishing.  I'm saving that until next weekend.

   It looks like there's still lots of winter left.




Thanks for checking in, and don't forget to "Talk the Dock!"

New Year Gear and Tool Review: Bonding with Bondic

"Now you oughta make it stick together..."
                                   -Wilbert Harrison


   As you know, Constant Readers, I basically have three modes- building stuff, breaking stuff, and sailing.

   (No, Smartass Reader, "drinking and eating" is NOT a mode.  It is an integral part of the Three Modes.)

   Intrinsic to successful functioning in any mode is the necessity to keep things from falling apart all around, you...

  .... and putting them back together when they inevitably do.

     Thus, I am  always looking for better, faster, easier, stronger ways to build what is needed and fix what is busted.

     Which is why I have an assortment of tubes and vials and bottles of various adhesives, of varying efficacy,  taking up real estate on my workbench and locker space aboard.  By and large, my go-to solution for most bonding jobs is epoxy of some sort, but one challenge with epoxy is that it has a LONG cure time, which makes it unsuitable for quick, clamp-free fixes.  Even quick curing epoxy isn't all that quick.

     Cyanoacrylate, the Krazy Glue-type stuff, IS instant, but that presents it's own brand of problems, because once two objects are stuck together they are stuck, like, NOW.  No repositioning, no time to get your fingers out of the way, or your sleeve, or to remember that you're working on a freshly refinished uncovered table...

     What if there was an epoxy that had the fast cure time of cyanocrylate, but only when you wanted it?


   Enter Bondic.

    The  folks at Bondic describe it as "the world’s FIRST liquid plastic welder."  There's all sorts of super-secret proprietary sciency stuff involved that makes it unique  but basically it is an ultraviolet cured adhesive.  What really makes it unique is how it works.

     The Bondic kit consists of an adhesive cartridge and a 6 volt UV light..... packed in a cigar sized shiny case.

packed in a cigar sized shiny case.

 

    It's as foolproof as an adhesive can get- clean the objects to be bonded, and sand shiny surfaces- this stuff likes a little "tooth, just like glue....

 apply a bead of Bondic to one surface, by gently squeezing the cartridge, just like glue...

Then, here's where things get different. Shine the UV light on your work for 4-8 seconds...

BOOM!  Cured, like a true believer at a tent revival.

 
  Because of the fast cure time, Bondic can also be used as an effective filler for small jobs, applied in layers, curing each layer.  Busted the corner of your cell phone case?  Sand,  apply Bondic, cure, sand, apply Bondic, cure, sand, apply Bondic, cure, etc.  as needed.

  Downsides?
 
  Because of the application system and UV light size, Bondic is best for SMALL jobs.

    And not many of them.  This review almost exhausted the cartridge.

    Tensile and shear strength is not Bondic's, er, strong point.  I bonded two scrap pine battens...

 

Then pulled them apart...  easily.

I then tried again, thinking that a thicker layered "fillet" might be more effective...

... it is...but not much.  The battens still came apart easily.

  Bondic IS waterproof, but, just like epoxy, it is sunlight sensitive- outdoor applications will need to be topcoated

  It's not a great structural fastening adhesive, but it has potential for effective, quick small repairs aboard- broken sunglasses, cracked vhf radio housing,  broken tangs on light lenses,  that sorta stuff.

  Cost?  The kit cost about $20, refill adhesive cartridges are about $12, a replacement UV light about $7.
   Not cheap, but cheaper than a new Otterbox for your iProduct.

Bondic likely won't be the first adhesive you reach for, but it might just be what you try when nothing else will work.







Talk the Dock!

New Boat, New Gear, New Reviews, Part One.

     "You got me coming up with answers...."
                                            -Duran Duran

A new (to us) boat means new projects and new, or new (to us), gear.

Refitting is a sailor’s excuse to go shopping…

….So, a-shopping we went.  

We needed to replace our no-longer-generating generator.  We had put off this purchase since halfway through Bottom Paint Season 2013, but the idea of sanding bottom paint by hand, on a deadline this year, thrilled neither SWMBO nor I. 

It was time.

Our old 3.5 kW Hyundai generator was  more than adequate, powerwise, but big, heavy and loud.   This time, we wanted a generator small enough, and portable enough, to make the occasional trip down the Dock to  put the power in power tools, and hang out on NextBoat’s* aft deck if we ever needed 110 power aboard when away from the Dock. The  Honda EU2000i was on our shortlist, and the Yamaha EF2000is was on our shorterlist, because it was slightly lighter and had all of the controls on the same face as the starting cord.

   The candidate tapped for a longterm test was neither of the above.  We opted to purchase a Champion 73531i 2kW generator.

Honda.

Yamaha.

Champion?

Here’s why:

     Both the Honda and Yamaha generators were $1200 and change. The nearest dealers are at least 25 minutes from the Dock, if we need parts or service.  If we decide to cruise with a generator, the nearby-parts-service-availability drops precipitously-most of the ports on the north shore of Lake Erie do not have either Yamaha or Honda dealers.  So,  if parts are needed, we’re gonna be pointing and clicking through the interweb and waiting for a delivery…

…  just like we would with an off-brand genny sourced from a department store…

… which we bought for under $600.

Additionally, I liked the stackable cube design- on the aft deck of Nextboat,  that flat surface could come in handy as a support for a cutting board, beside the bbq.

Upon opening the box, I was pleased with the fit and finish, and the feel of the plastic panels.

Nothing felt inordinately “cheap.”

The bib around the gas tank cap is a nice detail...

       As is the  well-marked "on-off " cap vent.    A closable vent is a nice benefit if (like me) you drive a station wagon that (like me) you do not want to smell like gasoline on a hot day with a generator in the wayback.

      It came with a well written manual in both official languages (okay, it was well written in English, at least;  mon ne pas parlez francais well enough to know how bon it was in French, eh?) and an easy-to-follow "quick start" chart, along with the ubiquitous stamped steel/crimped tube spark plug wrench and a funnel.  A funnel?

   Before starting, as the manual made clear in 118 point boldface, YOU MUST FILL THE ENGINE WITH OIL...  or void the warranty.  So I filled it, with oil, (not included) with the help of the (included) funnel, a requirement due to the location of the crankcase filler:
Behind a cover...

and, appropriately enough, at the crankcase:

    Preliminary prep out of the way, I opened the vent on the gas cap, turned the fuel valve to "on", flipped the ignition switch to "on", set the choke to "start" and pulled the starting cord.

    It started.
 
    Good.
 
     I pushed the choke in  and the generator continued to run.

     Also good.

     As promised, it was much quieter than our old generator.

     How quiet?

   
      That quiet.
     Carry-on-a-conversation quiet.
      SWMBO was impressed.

      That quiet.

      The next weekend we put our new box o' power to the test, and sanded Whiskeyjack's  bottom prior to rolling on a coat of antifouling paint.  SWMBO and I ran two palm sanders continuously for over 4 hours and used less than 3/4 of a gallon of fuel.  Further, our ears didn't ring, and we never had to yell at each other.
     Not yelling at each other is a real bonus, one not to be overlooked.

      I have no unrealistic expectations of longevity that rivals Champion's more expensive motorcycle manufacturer rivals, but...
 
       If it lasts more than 50% as long as the expected lifespan of the others, we will be money ahead.

      I will revisit this review next spring, and see how the Champion 73531i  has held up.


      Thanks for stopping by, and remember to

     "Talk the Dock!"


*NextBoat is currently named Take Time.  It is a nice name, but the experience of her acquisition begs for a name change.  More on that later.

Low-Buck Launch: Splash 2013

       "She's as pretty as she's ever gonna get..."
                                         -Living Color

     
      Brazil, Buenas!

      I've been parsing the percentages here at D6C Mission Control, dissecting the demographics, noodling on the numbers, always looking to get more people to Talk the Dock!  and have discovered some cool stats:

      A significant percentage of readers are from outside of North America- UK, Australia, Holland, Brazil, Russia, Romania, Nigeria...

     Okay, some of the hits might be actual readers, not searchbots.

      Yeah, I might actually find a way to make some money from this gig, too.

      Diddling the data, I realized that it's entirely possible that some of the rituals and requirements of Great Lakes sailing are completely foreign and incomprehensible to many from outside of North America.

     Like the spring sweat-equity extravaganza known as "splashing."


    I figure a little background info might help.  Locals, feel free to skip to the good stuff.

    Okay, if you can't find any good stuff, just skip to the average stuff.

    Shut up, smartass.  Just scroll down to the part that says "SKIP TO HERE"

    Background:

       This is four-season country.  Here on the South Coast of Ontario, Canada,  it gets cold in the winter, warm in the summer, and rains in between.   The water often freezes all winter, and the marinas, by and large, are not equipped to allow boats to stay in the water year-round.  So every fall boatyards are busy hauling boats out and storing them on the hard, then each spring the process is reversed, and the boats get relaunched, or "splashed."

     As spring is a time of renewal in the natural world, so it is in a boat owner's world as well.  The weeks, days, and hours of spring prior to a boat's splash are filled with scraping and sanding and painting and patching and fixing and varnishing and swearing and yelling and drinking.  The "Northern Nautical"  version of the 80/20 Rule becomes the practice in boatyards far and wide:  80% of the maintenance a boat will receive all year is accomplished in the 20 days prior to her being splashed.

   Then you do it all over again next year.

  It's worth it.

   SKIP TO HERE

      In splash seasons past, we have painted the deck, painted the topsides, stripped the bottom, rebuilt the top end of the engine, installed electronics, refitted the galley and cabin, varnished our asses off and generally made improvements  and revisions that were cosmetic or convenience related, not critical  to operation.

    This season was different.

    Climbing aboard to compile this season's punchlist of projects that we couldn't afford to do but couldn't afford to ignore, I checked the steering gear, and found ...

   ... blocks that were in bad shape.

    Okay, looks like steering R&R just moved to the #1 position on the "To-do" list.

      Upon further inspection, it looks like the blocks themselves are in decent shape- it's the wood under them (the block blocks?)  and the mounting hardware that is shot.

     So, the usual drill ensues-

1.  Measure

2.  Remeasure

3.  Cut scrap wood (for new block block blanks)

4.  Trim and shape

5.  Sand

6.  Cover in Epoxy

7.  Sand

8.  Varnish

9.   Test Fit.

10.  Utter Profanities

11.  Re-remeasure.  For Sure.  This Time.

12.  Repeat steps 3-9.

13.  Install

   Ahhh, step 13- that is always where it falls apart.  

    To bolt on  the new block blocks I have to UNbolt the remnants of the old block blocks, and the operative word here is bolt, which implies a nut, of which none can be seen in the pictures above and you know WHY? 

     Because they are hidden down HERE, that's why!!

   Oh, you can't see the nuts in question?  That's because they are waaaaayyyy back there- behind the engine, and above the fuel tank:..

    

     ...About 5" out of reach from the quarter berth, and I am about 4" too fat to slither in there.  

     (Yes, Astute, Critical, ABYC-versed Reader, all of the hoses leading to/from the tank and the cockpit drain hoses should be double-clamped.  More on that in a minute.)

     So, obviously I need to make another large hole in my boat.

     My new Matrix drill/driver/saw earns it's keep:

      Drill a hole, snap off the drill head and install the jigsaw head, turn a small hole into a bigger hole, snap in a cover plate...

     

    Snap the drill head back on, drill some smaller holes, swap out the drill bit for a Phillips head bit and drive some screws.

     

           Last time I had to drill a big hole in my boat and install a deck plate it took 40 minutes.

          This time it took less than 10.

     Now I can reach the nuts  AND the hose clamps.

      With the old block blocks removed and the well cleaned up, I threw some paint at it, installed new blocks  and put it all back together:

     

     Clean up the displaced caulk and the paint slop and she's as good as new.

    Not a moment too soon:

     

   When I inspected the blocks last season, I figured they would last until the end of the season.  They did...barely.

  That wasn't the only Whiskeyjack wood that had seen better days.  The swim ladder treads could no longer be tread upon.  

      I figured I'd repurpose Whiskeyjack's old galley locker doors into new treads.

     Splintery mahogany wouldn't be an ideal choice if the treads were to be left bare, but since they are going to be finished bright, I wasn't worried about slivers.

      Turns out I didn't have to worry anyway.

       I lit up the table saw and made the first cut and discovered...

     The doors weren't solid wood.

     Without missing a beat, I immediately resort to Plan B, and in hindsight, a Better Plan:  Cut up a couple of the companionway boards from DonorBoat.

       (Y'know, you'd figure that if I am able to seamlessly adapt to Plan B when Plan A gets in the weeds thanks to years of failed Plan As, I'd have learned to just turn my Plan Bs into my Plan As. 

        Hasn't happened yet. 

         Likely won't. )

       A couple of trips along the router table...

       Chuck a spade bit in the Matrix, measure the spacing, drill each tread, cut to fit the swim ladder rungs, shape...

      Varnish, and install.

      Here's the deal:   Preparing the boat for spring splash starts immediately after the boat is hauled out for the winter.  But the early stage, say, oh, October through March, is devoted largely to planning and procrastination.   Once the snow melts off the deck, effort is expended on exploratory sanding and scuffing  of  brightwork and hull.  

     Weather is both a factor  and a convenient excuse-  if it is too cold or too wet to paint or sand or varnish, one can rationalize taking a day off.  

      Upon setting the splash date with the yard, however, the clock starts ticking rather loudly, and excuses are no longer an option.  Nothing less than an ark-construction-inspiring deluge, or surprise snowstorm  will interrupt the -every-spare-moment pace of  splash prep, culminating in a late night/ early morning frenzy of  effort that doesn't end until Whiskeyjack  is in the slings.

      And each year, as I watch Whiskeyjack settle into the water,  I promise myself that next year, I'll be more organized, better prepared, and procrastinate less.

     Yeah, right.

    And then, it's done.  

     And it's all worth it.

   "Talk the Dock!"