Anchored in Sines

Sailing is like sex: a lot of foreplay and short ecstacies. After a long time of abstinence I'm at it again...sailing that is.

Left Peniche early on Tuesday, motored for 3 hours and then, when a bit of wind picked up, sailed to Cascais. Anchor down at 6:30 pm (44 miles).

Woke up the next morning and pretty much repeated the same thing - motored for 4 hours and then sailed the rest of the way. The conditions were nearly ideal; the sea was calm, the wind pushing us (me and Jakatar) at 2 to 5.5 knots. It was so smooth it felt like I was at the marina when making lunch down below. Arrived in Sines at about 6 pm. (more distance, but got an earlier start).

This is my second night in Sines. Guess what? They're having their annual international music festival and I'm anchor right in front of the stage. Before you start thinking "oh, wow, great," let me tell you that it's hell. I mean this is Portugal for Chistsake, an incredibly loud band was still playing at 5:30 am. No wonder we need an economic bailout.

Set the alarm to 5:00 tomorrow morning, so I'll probably be leaving the anhorage to the sound of guitars and bongos on fire.

Tomorrow it's a long haul to Sagres. Hope it's not foggy.

More details and pictures to follow. Right now I'm on my fourth glass of wine hoping that it will enable me to fall sleep. Hell, the band might as well be playing on my boat...it's that loud.



 

Are You a Boat Person

When I drove to Nazaré to sail back to Peniche, I left the Jeep at the boat yard. My original plan was to take the bus there the next day and drive back home.

But plans and boats aren't very compatible. 

It just so happened that Manuel was sailing to Nazaré the next day and invited me to tag along. I mean, what would you rather do: sit for 90 minutes in an air-conditioned bus with a flat-screen TV showing action movies or sit on a hot rolling boat for 5 hours? The answer - the real answer - is the litmus test that determines whether you're a boat person or not.

The added bonus is that I got to talk to a like-minded sailor for 5 hours. Funny how when two sailboat owners get together - regardless of the fact that they may have read a thousand books each, have all kinds of opinions about politics, and so on - will nevertheless spend 99% of their time talking about boat-related issues. Is boating a disease, or what?

This year's winter storm really walloped this beacon in Nazaré. Beware of the submerged rocks seen next to the wilting beacon. The light was replaced by the skinny metal one farther back.

To change the subject - which I always do in just about every post, a bad habit I must give up - the next day I had the pleasure of watching three buddy boats leave Peniche in thick fog.

For me, watching a boat disappearing into a cloud of fog really turns me on. Call me kinky, I don't care. Don't get me wrong though, I hate sailing in fog. Even so, there's something magical about watching boats being slowly engulfed by it on their way to some other port of call.

Leaving me behind...good thing because you wouldn't catch me in that soup without a radar.

See the flag, he's French...that explains it.

Working on a translation about a famous ship.

Sailing Home to Peniche

Thursday, June 27

It's dawn and I'm on the road to Nazaré. I've got a bag of sandwiches, apples and bananas and I'm hoping the IPTM staff hasn't gone on strike, like a lot of other civil servants. You see, the yard and travel lift are government-owned.

On arrival, I cleaned up the huge mess - piles and piles of stuff everywhere. The boat looked like it had done a 360º and disgorged all it's storage compartments. I gave the transmission and stuffing box one last inspection and hoped for the best.

At about 8:40 I heard a magical sound - a forklift - which meant somebody was working...followed by the unmistakable rumbling of the travel lift coming my way. Hey, I'm not ready yet, I thought. But they only came for the skiff beside me and hauled it off into the water.

I talked to Alberto and he said I was next. In no time Jakatar was dangling from two straps, Jefferson was removing the supports and I was right behind him slapping on some antifouling. In a wink we were in the water.

Going back where it belongs.

Once Jakatar was floating, I fired up the engine, quickly prayed to all the Gods in the world and shifted the new gearbox into reverse. It clunked loudly into gear, like it should, and I was out-of-there (it also clunked into forward just as sweetly and loudly).

I motored over to the fuel dock at low RPM's smiling to myself, remembering how the old transmission had gotten so bad it sounded like the devil rattling inside a tin box. I botched the first docking attempt - didn't get close enough - but got it perfect on the second try. 

Dove below and checked the stuffing box. Not a drip of water. I was so happy, you'd think I had just won a lottery. Gotta laugh out loud (lol) when I think of the peculiar world inhabited by boat slaves and the little things that make us rejoice. If I had anything other than water to drink, I'd have raised a glass and proposed a toast to all sailboat owners worldwide...at least to all the ones that get their hands dirty...the ones with clean hands can't join the slave club.

So I pumped 150 euros of diesel into the tanks (about 107 liters) only to realize that the fuel level barely went up at all - big tanks!

By 11:00 I was motoring out the port entrance and hoping for some wind, with the mainsail and staysail ready to be hoisted. I eventually hoisted the boomed staysail just for something to do, but ended up motoring all the way to Peniche.

Lifeline at midships. With a harness and short tether I can safely walk up and down the deck. Lifelines running along the edge of the deck are pretty much useless unless another crew member with a bit of experience is aboard. If you fall overboard attached to your harness, what in the world are you going to do? Die, that's what, because you'll never climb back aboard.

The boat rolled in a nasty crosswell that got a little tiring after a while. But hey, better a rolling boat than a static office chair.

Funny thing is I couldn't get the engine temperature over 65º C. I had also changed the antifreeze/coolant to a 50/50 mix as opposed to my previous 10% mix. Could that be it? Theoretically no. 

I realize that the prop and bottom were clean, but the temperature always goes up to normal operating temperature: 80º C. Another problem to worry about. At least it's better than an overheating engine.

Some sort of exploration ship near the Peniche entrance.

Sleek transient sailboat docked across from me. Notice the TV dish and other antennas.

If you want to know why I sailed back to Nazaré the next day, you'll have to read the upcoming post.

Gelcoat Crazing

Boat slaves never sleep. We're either working on the boat, busy making money to keep the boat running, researching about boat stuff or lying in bed thinking about the damned tub. The fact that non-boat owners can live a fulfilling life is a mystery to me.

Take note Corbin 39 owners, don't paint your overly thick gelcoat in a dark dull color. It will get really hot in the sun resulting in gelcoat crazing or cracking.

I already knew the paint would not fill the cracks, but I have no time to fix it properly. However, the new lighter glossy paint reflects sunlight and hardly warms up at all.

Up close it looks as though it was painted with a broom. From a distance it looks great, even the boat looks clean, which it isn't.

Ready for some action out on the ocean.

Not having any translations lined up for Monday, I drove to Nazaré early in the morning in an attempt to get Jakatar ready for the splash.

Had to cut new bolts to size for the dripless stuffing box collar. A tidy work environment is not my forte.

I aligned the shaft to the engine and re-positioned the stuffing box collar per instructions. Lacking spacers to align the shaft, I invented a new and perhaps better way.

Here are the instructions:

• attach the propeller shaft flange to the transmission flange with two bolts (one at the top, one at the bottom); 
• Then hand-tightened them just enough to keep the flanges touching;
• Next, rotate the shaft 1/4 turn and check if either bolt is slightly loose, and repeat for all positions.

In my case, the top bolt was a touch loose when it reached the bottom position. To correct this, I raised the back of the engine a wee bit and got it almost perfect...almost so I'll give it another go when I'm in the water again.

I scheduled to launch on Thursday morning, after I clean up the unbelievable mess in the boat and cockpit.

The port

How much is this boat worth? Looks bankrupt to me...in other words, negative worth.

Boat Without a Tail

You may be interested in a great blog about another sailor working toward the escape plan.

I finally removed the Voyager windvane that was heavily damaged last year when a 12 m sailboat crashed into it at the marina.

Jakatar looks kind of funny without its tail. All that's left are four holes on the canoe stern. Yup, the boat is slowly getting more naked; pretty soon I'll be eligible to join the minimalist club.

The stripe paint job (first coat) looks good from a distance. The edges look sloppy because I haven't removed the tape yet. From this perspective Jakatar looks like an elongated egg. Can you believe it? I went home and left the windvane carcass lying on the ground - The removable parts are on the boat.

I also slopped on the first coat of enamel paint on the hull stripe. I think 2 more coats will make it presentable, at least looking better then the lifeless deteriorating dark blue that absorbed sunlight and got really hot in the sun, which caused the gelcoat to craze (fissure).

A friend, Paulo, also working on his boat at the yard invited me for lunch at his home on this gorgeous street.

This is the real Nazaré. I took this picture about 50 m from the beach.

José, an anthropology professor, also joined us for some delicious fried sole fish and "açorda," a concoction of mashed bread, garlic, pepper, olive oil, parsley - and whatever you might feel inclined to throw in - that was really good, accompanied with perhaps too much red wine.

During the meal we found ourselves in an animated conversation about the difference between "having, doing and being" and Paulo even sang a Fado song that was somehow relevant to all this. Lunch ended at 4 pm, and I went back to the boat yard feeling that socializing with the right people is what it's all about.

Replacing a Hurth Gearbox with a ZF 12M

I'm pooped. Every muscle in my body is aching. Please do not try this at home under any circumstances!

I spent nearly the whole morning removing small screws with stripped heads from the pressure ring of the Duramax stuffing box. I tried every trick in the book. I even went out and bought a set of special allen keys - the ones with blades for more traction. What an idiot, all the time I had what I needed in a tool kit I bought long ago at Lidl.

Once I got the pesky little screws out, I got into mission mode and nothing was going to stop me - not even blood!

Looks like fake blood. Good thing my tetanus shots are up to date. 

Got the screws off the stuffing box collar, which enabled me to pull the propeller shaft back.

Since I was working solo, I enlisted a couple of lines for support when I removed the bellhousing. You have to remove the bellhousing and then loosen the bolts from the inside. There's no other way.

Shot showing the bolt heads on the inside.

After 13 years in operation, it's history. Very tight fit getting it out of the engine compartment - another 2 or 3 cm and I would have had to slide the engine forward. What luck!

All the springs on the damping plate are intact, otherwise...don't even want to think of "otherwise". Gave it a few shots of WD40, also known as holy water.

And there it is. If it lasts another 13 years I'll be happy.

Now I need to align the engine, change the anodes, paint the bottom with two coats, scrub the topsides and a few other minor details. Easy, right? Non-boat owners must think we're completely nuts.

Oh yeah, one last thing: when I was trying to bolt on the new gearbox (holding the bellhousing with my teeth and right foot, thus leaving my hands free to hold the wrench and bolts), the silly thing refused to mate with the gearbox. I glanced over my shoulder at the old gearbox and my whole body, mind, soul and any hope of a fulfilling life crumbled into total despair...they weren't identical!!!!! But they were, it was an optical illusion. What a day.

RM Sailboat Called "Horatio"

Recently it was brought to my attention that somebody named their brand new RM 1060 sailboat after me. That's right, me HORATIO. Either the new boat owner has been reading my blog or he has a dog named Horatio. Take your pick. 

You can find the "Horatio RM" boat at the RM Yachts website in their blog section. While you're at it, also check out their main site. 

RM sailboats come in various sizes, feature really amazing panoramic pilothouses and have attracted a cult following. Did I tell you they're made of plywood? We're talking about an epoxy plywood shell reinforced by a galvanized steel structure. Unfortunately they also cost a small fortune. I thought plywood was cheap.

But what I really like about them is that they have twin keels and a very long rudder, enabling them to stand up like a three-legged dog at low tide. That's really useful for scraping the hull, changing a zinc or having a picnic in the shade under the boat. 

The new RM 1060 called Horatio fresh out of the factory. May you live up to your (my) name!!!

Here's another crappy film shot sailing to Nazare on my Corbin 39, a more traditional boat. I seriously need to take film lessons.

Lastly, and sadly, I ran into a problem replacing my gearbox. To remove it, first I need to pull the prop shaft back. To pull the shaft back, I need to loosen some screws on the Duramax stuffing box. A piece of cake right? Wrong, two of these screws have stripped heads.

So I spent a couple of hours watching Youtube films teaching me the fine art of removing screws with stripped heads. Problem solved, right? Wrong. Where am I going to get new screws of the exact same size. I think I'm screwed and it's no laughing matter.

I emailed Duramax today urgently asking/begging for new screws. The problem is that they also manufacture stuffing boxes and many other parts for large ships, so I'm not too optimistic they'll pay much attention to my tiny screw predicament. Time to think like a Cuban in need of unavailable car parts.

On some occasions being a boat slave is a bit of a hassle and an impediment to a carefree life.