Life is for learning

14/8/2016

 

A boat is a microcosm of stand alone systems  – mechanical, electrical, mathematical, navigational, meteorological, aeronautical, and many other mysterious wonders ending  with the suffix  “–cal”  - the running of which involves the mastering of an array of diverse skills before even thinking about the actual sailing. 

Therein lies its unique challenge and interest, quite unlike anything else.  It can be frustrating and rewarding, elating and deflating, a micro roller-coaster of highs and lows, and above all else, lessons in patience.  But life is for learning and where else are so many lessons piled up each day, after finishing school?

Get this wonder of wonders:

My fridge lid is now hinged instead of having to lift it out completely at great risk to life and limb.  No more wrestling it out and stowing it temporarily on a sliding, shifting, rolling, bucking surface nearby and hoping it doesn't become airborne at the next wave. 

Yesterday I fitted one of those spring hatch supports, that bends down when closed and sproings up into a solid rod when open. I love it.

(Note how the front edge of the lid had to be cut back to allow it to close).

Next job, solar panel:

 

 

 This picture shows the old solar panel connectors, which were never soldered properly, with the tang on the far left just flapping in the breeze.  Luckily an easy fix with a tiny screw and so now I have 3 x 100W panels including the new one sent up from Melbourne as a good customer service freebie.

New challenge: where to put it?

 

The replacement solar panel is now mounted on top of the dodger, (canvas canopy where cabin meets cockpit for “dodging” oncoming waves) making it effectively almost a hard-top, much more robust with the extra bracing. It took me nearly all day to mount it. (Colin had been roped in to another job so left me to my own devices). 

First was a trip to the local Chandlery for fittings, then to Bunnings to buy a couple of one metre lengths of rectangular aluminium tube for the supports between the front and rear stainless steel bows (thanks to Cam and his car). It's great being here with friends with wheels.

Then a bit of contemplation, measuring, drawing, more contemplation...

As with any first-time attempt at anything, mistakes are made (not enough contemplation). The solar panel and aluminium supports were positioned and marked in black texta,  lifted off, turned turtle on the deck for drilling –and,  you guessed it – now upside down with front and rear reversed.  Oops. Luckily this was discovered before too many holes were put in the wrong places. 

Another silly error was to awkwardly mark the undersides with only half an inch clearance above the canvas, when all I had to do was open the zip and peel it back for full access. The tolerances were small and potentially compounding, so a mm out could misalign everything.  Again, with more good luck  than good management, they lined up pretty well precisely.

It was necessary to drill holes in the front bow to bolt the supports to.  This is never easy;  for starters, the bow being curved and polished makes the drill slip off, for seconds, stainless is a very hard metal to drill. Friends Tom & vivienne off the yacht “Imajica” lent me a spring loaded centre punch to get started.  I bought a special Tungsten drill bit and used a few drops of their cutting oil to stop the bit getting too hot and melting, but it seemed like it was going to take the rest of the month to make more than a slight pinprick.  In the end, one of the local yardsmen came with the right drill and zapped it like it was a block of cheese. (A bad tradesman blames his tools and mine are just toys).

Out with the rusty (that's rusty, not trusty) hacksaw next to shorten the bolts and cut the aluminium tubes to the right length.  One thing I have learnt is to always do a “dry fit” before assembling, especially where goop is involved.  My new favourite goop is Selleys "3 in 1 Ezi-Press”, which comes in a small cartridge with a cap and lever to pump it.  It keeps well  in the fantastically wonderful brilliant new fridge for ages without going off and seems to stick anything to anything like the proverbial.

 

 

 I realize the boom will shade the panel some of the time, but this one is going to be wired to the engine cranking battery, so not so critical.  Colin has fitted a two-way VSR (Voltage Sensitive Relay) so power will go between both battery banks when one is full.

 The next challenge:

Time to run the cable from the panel to the battery. How could this job take the best part of another day?

This is how: 

1. Locate the preferred (waterproof) site for the cable to enter the interior of the boat, in this case, on the cabin top under the protection of the dodger, an area directly above the galley
2. pull everything out of the cockpit locker to make room to climb into the black hole
3. climb in and examine all possible avenues of ingress for the cabling to run where required
4. find there is only one very tight gap into the ceiling cavity through which an old cable goes to the light above the stove
5. poke usual long skinny poky thing in the gap, only to hit the right angle turn where hull meets deck
6. increase the already existant chaos down below hunting for other less/more flexible long skinny poky things
7. try them all, to no avail (if you’ve read this far, you’ve got the general idea, and are probably as much of a lost cause as I in all things nautical/practical/methodological.....)
8. realize the only solution is to use the existing light cable as a mouse, pulling it through with another string attached, then pulling it back into its original hole, being very mindful of potential to lose the only light above the stove
9. dismantle the light above the stove to access its wiring
10. the other end of the cable is in a scarcely reachable nook behind the new fridge compressor in the cockpit locker
11. (it’s hot enough in there before adding the heat of the compressor)
12. confirm, the cable has been gooped with what looks like a slurry of ancient cement.
13. climb back into the cockpit locker (for perhaps the hundredth time) with various tools of attack - hammer, screwdrivers, scraper, etc
14. not enough room to get two hands into the nook, so bash and scrape for an hour or so with one hand, taking care not to damage the existing cable to the only light above the stove
15. get it free enough to use wire coathanger to hook it by its upper half inch where it disappears into the impossible gap
16. tug gently, then not so gently, enough to realize it has been further cemented inside the ceiling when the boat was being built, before they put the “lid” on and rendered it all forevermore inaccessible
17. concede defeat (for today).