Boatshops: Sharing fairing and sanding space

The 2012 mast varnish project continues.  Thickest layers of old varnish are now off, 80 grit work is 90% done and final prep includes removing a few more fittings and detailing the hardest to reach nooks and crannies.

My heat gun and scraper leave a pile of shavings below the sawhorses. Bubbling varnish and oozing sap from the old fir send vapors into the windowless space. The Festool sander and vaccum make noise for hours. The hand sanding pads send particles into the air, settling on every surface - varnish coated sawdust from the 80 grit to powdery dust particles of fir from 220 grit. 

Grateful to be indoors through the spring summer rain transition at Haven Boatworks, I'm also awkwardly smack in the middle of at least seven boat projects and a half a dozen skilled staff. Regardless of whether my shop mate is male or female (about 60/40) a recent boat school grad in their 20s or a local legend at 60 and up, boatshop etiquette clearly transcends age, gender and experience. 

Boatshop space rules: Respect, common courtesy, tidiness and safety

• Be sure your work doesn't poison you or anyone else
• Check in often to coordinate sanding, drying and cleanup times
• Clean up after yourself and put tools back in the place you found them
• Keep the owner/manager up to date on your general work task timeline
• Lend a hand if someone needs help
• Don't sand or even think about sanding when someone else is painting or varnishing
• Brooms, vacuums, ear gear and ventilators make happier, healthier co-workers

Good wood: What's under the varnish

Less than a week ago, Pax's wooden mast was still in the boat, peeling and looking bruised from wear spots and UV damage that had caused 10 layers of varnish to finally give up and let rain soak and stain start to rot the old growth fir.   Or so I feared. 

Five days of work later, the gorgeous straight lines of old growth native Fir emerge from behind the varnish, mold and surface stain.  After 8 hours of heat gun and scraper and 5 hours of Festool 80 grit the good wood emerges - clean and clear and warmly red beneath the sand paper. 

Hand sanding with a variety of pads and another day of careful prep before I can put away the power tools and pull out the brushes.  

People walking by stop and stare at the wood now. Marveling at the tight, long, straigth bands that show the long life of the tree and the care of the builder.  Pax's mast is shaped beautifully and joined with skill, but it's the wood that stops people in their tracks.  Respect, awe, beauty is in their eyes and most cannot resist touching the wood like a Talisman, like a child, like a heart.  

Mast Must-Do List

A couple of years ago, I saw the first sign of varnish decay on Pax's mast - an amber bubble of moisture popping up like a blister - where halyards leading down from blocks high on the mast twanged the mast while PAX rested in her slip during the winter.  Ferocious winds during cold fronts routinely whip lines and strum them like a guitar. The tighter the line is cleated, the higher the note and the harsher the thud on the mast.  Over time, that drumming wears the varnish (and the line) so all but two lines are always pulled over and tied off inelegantly, but prudently, to turnbuckles.  This saves the line, saves the varnish and saves the sanity of adjacent moorage neighbors or crew hanging out below deck.

The main sail cover protected a four foot section of varnish, but above and below were signs of wear. Above, was mostly sun damage. Below were darkened patches where winch handles and other gear had nicked and damaged the varnish causing cracks. Cracks lead to water and water leads to rot, if left too long. 

Knowing this was a threat and hating the bruised apple look now evident at eye level from dock and cockpit, I spot sanded and varnished the exposed, raw wood patches between squalls.  One coat of varnish is no match for 7-10 coats built up on other parts of the mast, especially in the two rainiest winters ever recorded in the Northwest.  Thirsty as a sponge, the fir continued to absorb water through the thin coat. Not as much water as it would with no coats at all, but some water nonetheless.  Beneath the varnish, the dark patches slowly drew like spilled cola spreads in a paper towel. 

Away from the boat for almost 6 months, I returned to Port Townsend to find not only the bruise spots, but now the full length of the mast was starting to peel along the main sail track.  I realized the layers of varnish applied so perfectly almost 15 years ago were finally wearing out.  Could I go up the mast and revarnish or did the entire mast need to come down?  A few queries around the boatyard confirmed that no fool would climb the mast for the weeks of work it would take to strip, sand and revarnish the spar. The only fool who would consider it was me and without the comfy padded Brion Toss Bo'sun Chair I'd sold to pay bills after the circumnavigation, I knew it would be painful, virtually impossible and honestly, stupid.

Down came the main and jib. Off came the boom. 

The mast refinish project begins! 

Kauai to Oahu: First ocean overnight, Part 1

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Written by Kaci Cronkhite  Winter 1992  All rights reserved.

Nawiliwili Harbor,   Kaua’i, Hawai’i
Alaska was at its darkest, coldest decrescendo.  Perfect time to head to Hawaii.  I wanted to think about sailing and set a course  for my next ten years with a warm clear mind.

As fate had forseen, the friends who introduced me to sailing in Port Townsend had been struck and successfully weathered Hurricane Iniki on Kauai.   From Oahu, I called to check in with them and they invited me to come visit and help, as long as I could camp. Backpack loaded with food and tent, I hopped a flight to Lihue and walked to the marina. Palm trees were stripped, houses roofless, power poles and other debris still littered the island. Most people still didn't have water or electricity. Aboard their voyage ready boat they were stocked for two months.  When I arrived they were mired in Plan B, something to keep the fire stoked on much bigger plans. Plan B was a tangent indeed. A tack to the north of their previous course, an interisland interlude day sail from Kaua’i to Oahu.  They invited me along as crew.  I knew little more than I had in Washington, but they didn’t seem to care. I was little trouble to feed, had a stomach of steel and was handy with tools in emergencies.  It was a short trip and one they could do with their eyes closed.

The chilly morning of my first ocean sail began at 0400.  I throbbed with enthusiasm and could hardly sleep,

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Honolulu to Seattle: First Ocean Passage

Honolulu to Seattle: My first long voyage, 1993

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Written by Kaci Cronkhite  March 2012  All rights reserved.

"So you serious about doing an ocean passage," asked my buddy Bruce as he walked up to C Dock in Ala Wai where the boat I was varnishing was moored.

"You bet," I said. "But I know how to cook, Bruce. Sort of. You wouldn't want me for a cook. Would you teach me how to navigate, use the weather fax, sail in the ocean?"

"Sure," he said with the impish grin I'd come to love in this Kamaina guy who'd been one of my first friends in Hawaii. "I need crew that will work!"

A few weeks later, we were headed out of the channel and west into the cooling sun in a 40 foot Gulf Star whose almost unpronouncable name meant sweetheart. In an hour the sun would set and we'd still be in the lee of Oahu. This part of the journey I'd sailed a couple of times already. Twice at night the year before and a half dozen times as crew for the man who owned one of the boats in my care. I knew this part was a pretty easy cruise in the lee of the island. No big waves. No big wind. As we passed close to Ko Olina, wisely tucked in the last of our shelter, the two guys who'd signed on as crew drunk their last beers for awhile (or so I thought) making grand claims about the surf, the women or the fish they'd caught along these shores. 

"Hang on boys (I'll call them #1 and #2)," I whispered. The channel in the islands could be rough and we were just entering the zone. That beer was likely going to reappear if the channel was anything like my other trips. Bruce just smiled at them and listened.

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