Wiring. It’s how we make it all work!
Boat projects tend to run in cycles, longer ones that anyone wants to think about.
The main May project was getting Calypso back in the water, which was accomplished in style on May 15. Perfect timing since we'd paid for half the month in the yard. Now she's in her slip at FBYC, waiting for hard work and some sailing days.
We seem to be on a cycle of one weekend at the boat, one weekend at home. Since the beginning of April, there have been speech contests and political events, the Annapolis spring show, and work travel conflicting with our need to get to work on Calypso.
There are house projects too. Jeremy's built scaffolding to fix some rotten siding pieces before we hire a painter to paint the house.
True to form, there is more than one photo in this post titled "Photo of the month".
It's hard to limit it to just one!
Jeremy turned off the oscillating cutting tool* and the Shop Vac and looked at me. "There isn't tabbing on the underside too, is there?" I could hear him, barely, over the toilet paper we'd both stuffed into our ears as the best ear protection we could muster on a weekend we thought we'd only be working on the outside of the boat.
I nodded. "Unfortunately."
Yes, the shelf that needed to come out as the next step in PROJECT MAIN SALON BUNK was tabbed with multiple layers of fiberglass not only on the top, but also on the bottom. Half inch plywood sandwiched between layers of fiberglass that was close to 1/8 of an inch thick. ON BOTH SIDES. Sheesh.
The BCC has the reputation of being built like a tank. Lin and Larry Pardey talk about boats being priced by the pound, like a good steak, and this one must be a freaking filet mignon.
(Lest you get any ideas, let me tell you we bought the boat in 1992, from the 2nd owner, and it was NOT priced like a filet mignon. If we’d bought a new one, from the factory, it would have been. This one . . . luckily for us, it was more like hamburger. Good grade burger meat, but burger meat nonetheless.)
The Sam L Morse yard was one where standards were high and the finish quality was superb. Ours was finished off by a yard in San Diego, I believe – Bill Clark Custom Yachts, if I am remembering right – and I’d have to imagine the finish quality was on par with Sam Morse.
Unless it’s common to tab in a shelf with multiple layers of fiberglass tape and roving on BOTH SIDES? Maybe it is.
But damn we need to buy stock in an oscillating cutting tool company, or at least the blades. Cutting through fiberglass is hard work!
When the original owners had the boat finished off, at least as much as they did that anyway, they probably had no idea anyone would ever rip out the work they put time and money into. They felt that way, I am sure, about the gorgeously finished, mahogany sided cabinet for the stainless steel lobster pot that served as the boat’s first head.
The first of many admiring curse words were flung at the builder at that demolition project, I can tell you.
And we’re right back at it as we tear out the port side shelf, once the proud base for our single sideband radio and bookshelf as well as kids’ clothing, games, and a whole bunch of spare batteries.
I’m not advocating going cheap or easy when you’re constructing any part of a boat. After all, even a lowly bookshelf has to be able to withstand forces and twisting we can only calculate if we’re mathematically (and doomsday) inclined. But it may be worth remembering, as you zealously craft perfection, that someday it's possible you’ll want to tear out whatever it is you are building.
Or maybe it’s just better to buy stock in those tools you’ll need to destroy your work now.
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We’re in the process of moving our double bunk from the forepeak, where it’s been since we “finalized” the interior in 1993. The initial thought around not putting it in the main salon was that I wanted to have a bunk I didn’t have to make up every night.
That space, as you can see in the video, is also where the head is. Where the main tool storage is. Where the extra food is stored. Every single night I had to make up the bunk, reworking sheets and blankets. For a “that bed must look gorgeous before I get into it every night” person like me, this was not what I had thought would be the case.
The “factory finished” Bristol Channel Cutters have this ingenious pull out pilot berth on the port side. By day it masquerades as the back to the settee, a book-less bookshelf, if you will. By night, it slides out to form a comfortable double bunk. Call it a Murphy bed for the vertically challenged.
Our boat, hull number 6, was built before the yard was even offering finished interiors. The original owners (we are owner #3) had it taken to San Diego from Costa Mesa to get her ready to sail; the man we bought her from had never really gotten around to doing the rest of it (other than removing the diesel stove). In 1992, we had basically a clean slate to work with, and putting a v-berth in was high on the priority list. That the head would be under the insert for the bunk was not a great worry; who needs to use the head in the middle of the night?
Ahem, that would be the almost 50 year old me, with her almost 50 year old bladder. No judging.
Between that and wanting any visitor to have more head privacy, plus the desire to have a place to shower down below, plus knowing that we’re cruising as a couple this time around (no kids), plus the realization that actually, Lyle Hess (the designer) knew what the heck he was doing when he figured out how the accommodations would work on this boat . . . we’re changing the interior to more closely mirror the factory finish, and we are so excited about it!
There are a couple of big things we won’t change. Our galley is to starboard, not port, without the oh-so-smart aspect of the sink bumped out more toward the centerline (for easier drainage!). Our floorboards are about 2 inches higher than on the yard-done boats, giving more room for larger water tanks but minimizing headroom for Jeremy.
The work on the bunk has begun in earnest as of this past weekend, when we had a chance to really sit and look and scheme and measure. Boat geometry is complicated in any case; it feels more complicated with a small boat.
We need to make the bunk as wide as it can be when it’s pulled out. Allow for as much head room on the outboard (under the side deck) side as possible. Make sure the backrest of the settee isn’t too low for comfort. Ensure that someone sitting on the settee to eat can do so without having to crunch his knees. And make sure there’s bulkhead room for lounging with your back to the bulkhead. All this while making sure the pullout section is supported. That’s a lot of different things to think about in one small space.
We’ll mock it up a few different ways before committing to anything, of course, but one thing that stood out as we were measuring and talking and trying things out.
Like literally, an inch will make a huge difference in comfort. It might mean between being able to sit up in bed or relax against the bulkhead – or not. It might mean the difference between a comfortable backrest while sitting or a contortionist’s nightmare while eating.
It’s incredible to be thinking in terms of inches. When so much of my life as a landlubber is consumed with more more more, when we talk about faster internet and acres of land and how much MORE can we have, there is something so satisfying in focusing on where to find one more inch of space.
It’s precision. Priorities. Looking and thinking outside of the box. Careful attention to detail. And a certainty that it can all work beautifully well together.
Where can you find your inches?
It's still winter here in Central Virginia, though the blooming forsythia and the industrious robins helping themselves to bugs or worms or seeds in the backyard are working to convince us otherwise. The calendar and the lengthening days tell us that spring is on its way, and so is sailing season.
Or maybe it's closer to reality to say that "boat work season" is on its way. I'm not sure exactly how much sailing we will get in this summer and fall. Here's hoping we can sneak in a few gorgeous afternoons on the Bay!
Why no sailing? Simple. We have boat projects galore. We've got a few things that have to be done before we can set sail, and the discussion of how to organize said projects is ongoing. There is no right way to organize projects, but I will say that organizing them is really important. Pick a way that works for you and get moving!
One way is by "Things to buy". This is pretty concrete, though the list is deceptively simple. (And lest you think this is all there is, let me assure you it gets added to all the time.) There's no column for the associated projects. The solar panels, for example, involve hiring someone to do stainless work and stanchions and solid lifelines. The windlass doesn't mention the wiring, or the below-decks work, or the battery upgrades.
Another way to organize projects is to think of the things that MUST be done before we leave. There's a bit of this inherent in the "CRITICALITY" column in the "things to buy" spreadsheet, although I'd argue that adding the windlass is way more important than the fish finder*, and personally I'm lobbying hard for the refrigerator to be a pretty high priority (okay, we COULD just use the ARB we have right now as the fridge if we don't have it installed before shoving off . . .). This list is limited to items that are required for safety and comfort: finishing the bed down below, and dealing with reefing gear for the mainsail. Seacocks, especially while the boat is out of the water, are also critical.
This list, though? It keeps being affected by project creep. While we are working on a new bunk for ourselves, we might as well deal with the chart table. And the galley. And the batteries. And cushions. And lighting. And the table will likely need to be modified. And oh, let's finish the hull "ceiling" please, so our home is pretty and cozy.
Project creep. Gotta learn to be diligent in avoiding it, or embrace it. If you've got ideas as to the former, please let me know!
Then there's the "brain dump" version of project lists. Can you tell who makes which list?
Sometimes it feels like project lists are a bit like loading a cannon. Put it all in there and light a fuse and hope for the best.
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You want your plans to flex, but not your hull.
You want your muscles to flex, but not your head.
If the word "flex" can mean twist and turn, how is it that sometimes that's good and sometimes it's bad?
We're working on changing the interior of Calypso, moving where we sleep from the v-berth area to the main salon, putting in a pull-out pilot berth like is on factory-finished boats. It is requiring flexibility in thinking, and flexibility in maneuvering. Flexibility in sourcing a mattress.
Where there's no flexibility is in the need for 4 berths, even if those berths aren't always available. I know we're going to want our kids to visit and stay on board.
Sometimes you flex, sometimes you don't.
See you out there.