Having a few soft spots in the balsa-cored deck of your 50-plus-year-old sailboat is neither uncommon nor all that concerning. However, last season I noticed a not-to-subtle flex in the foredeck of our Newport 41 when I was retrieving the anchor from particularly sticky mud. We’d had the foredeck reinforced from below in 2008, when we’d upgraded our anchor windlass after buying Kate, but now there were spongy areas underfoot.

We decided to tackle the project ourselves. We bought an oscillating saw, a circular saw and a wet-dry vacuum. Then we booked a haul out at Penuwasa Shipyard in Kudat, Borneo, Malaysia. We took a deep breath, and we opened a proverbial can of worms.

Demo Day

Balsa wood has been the preferred material for cored deck construction for decades. It’s light, but extremely strong. It can be laid as small tiles adhered to a scrim (an open-weave material) and can serve as a sandwich between layers of fiberglass, with the grain running perpendicular to the outer skin. The 2-inch balsa tiles are flexible enough to conform to the gentle radius of the deck, and the end-grain application provides superior compression strength because forces are exerted down the length of the grain rather than across it.

The downfall of balsa-cored decks is when water finds it way below the fiberglass skin. Most commonly, this happens when deck hardware is improperly sealed, or the sealant breaks down. Balsa can absorb a lot of water before it begins to rot, resulting in a soft spot. It can be years before damage is noticed, making it difficult to pinpoint how the water ingress occurred.

We first had to determine how much of our deck was affected. We tapped on the deck with a hammer and heard a dead hollow sound, rather than a solid thud. My husband decided that most of the foredeck sounded suspicious. Our problem was larger than we’d first thought. 

To preserve enough structural strength to support the weight of two people while working, we had to open the deck in sections. We removed the anchor windlass, deck hardware and pulpit, and then we marked out our cuts.

Steve used the oscillating saw to cut through the top layer of the deck. He started with a large triangle section that extended from the bow roller to behind the windlass. Then he pulled the crust off the sandwich, removing the fiberglass with as little damage as possible;  we wanted to reuse the piece during reconstruction. Our original fiberglass had no major imperfections and fit the cutout perfectly.

With the top skin removed, we got a look not only at the balsa, but also into the history of our boat. We discovered that a piece of marine plywood ran down the middle of the foredeck under the sail track. Curiously, we found a pair of wires running through the balsa core on the starboard side of the plywood. The boat’s electrical system had been updated long before we took ownership, so we had no idea that the original wiring had been concealed within the deck. Now, the defunct wire provided a conduit for moisture to flow through the balsa. 

We needed to follow the trail, to see how far the wires and the rot went. Steve cut a larger section that covered the starboard side of the foredeck from the toe rail to the centerline, ending about 20 inches from the first cutout. Not only had the wires funneled the water ingress down the starboard side, but we also found a mass of what looked and smelled like tar. The sticky puddle had been injected through holes drilled in the deck. A shortcut solution by a previous owner that disguised the soft spot.

Next was the dirty task of removing the rotten balsa. Armed with a scrapper, a chisel and a lot of determination, Steve spent several hours filling buckets with bits of soggy wood. Some areas peeled away in chunks that resembled canned tuna, juice and all. Others crumbled into a paste and easily scraped away. A few balsa tiles on the outboard edge were dry, so we left them intact.

The injected areas were difficult to move and worrisome. We’d seen injection holes peppered across other parts of the deck when we’d had the boat painted in Fiji several years before. How much of a mess had the earlier DIYer left in his wake?

With rot removed, we sanded the areas to fair the surface, and left it open to the blistering tropical sun to dry any remaining moisture. Steve cleaned the bottom of the fiberglass skin using a flap disc grinding wheel, removing any stuck-on resin and leveling out the surface. 

The New Core

In an ideal world, we would have used end-grain balsa tiles to reconstruct the deck. That wasn’t really an option because importing balsa was difficult and costly. However, because of a nearby wooden-boat fishing fleet, good-quality marine plywood was readily available. 

Marine plywood is strong, but there are trade-offs. Because of the multilayer construction of plywood, the grain runs horizontally. This makes it prone to wicking moisture across the layers if it’s exposed to water. To achieve the correct curve across the deck, the plywood needs to be cut into several small pieces, with each piece coated in resin for waterproofing before installation. This adds time to the project. And, since plywood is heavier than balsa, there will be weight gain. 

We figured a few extra pounds and a little more work were better than a rotten deck. Using the fiberglass as a template, we patterned the plywood by tracing each skin, then divided that shape into rough 4-by-4-inch blocks. We labeled each column and row before making any cuts. I sanded the edges of each block, removing any rough spots.

Then it was time for a dry fit, which is essential. Blocks can be modified to work around any obstructions or high spots. Believe me, when working with a handlaid fiberglass boat, there will be a few irregularities. 

With the dry fit done, we marked a border with a red line that we could match up during the final installation. Some of our edge blocks fit under the existing deck, and the red line let us know exactly how far to knock the blocks into the void.

I sealed the blocks with a coat of polyester resin on all sides. Many boaters go with epoxy, but we were working on the cusp of the rainy season, when midday temperatures stretched towards 95 degrees Fahrenheit and rain clouds hung on the horizon. It is possible to slightly adjust the amount of catalyst added to extend the cure time of polyester, which is also advantageous the tropics. Epoxy, on the other hand, requires precise measuring, mixing and temperatures. Epoxy is also less UV-stable, more prone to develop hairline cracks under stress, and cannot be covered with gelcoat. 

And our boat was hand laid in 1973. It is totally constructed with polyester. We figured if the stuff endured the past 53 years, then it is strong enough to use for a few repairs. 

We dried the wet plywood blocks on sheets of baking paper, whose nonslip properties don’t just apply in galley. Dried resin lifts right off it, making it easy to clean up and move the dry, but still tacky blocks. I simply stacked the sheets like a layer cake.

Reconstruction

With more than 100 plywood blocks to organize, pots of resin to mix, and a growing pile of spent gloves and sticky brushes to keep tidy, the process of putting the deck back together was a two-person job. My role was to mix the polyester resin in batches and hand the blocks to Steve. He put them in place, making sure everything was level, sealed and properly fitted.

First, we used resin on the deck cavities and the underside of the original pieces of deck that we had removed. This sealed the surfaces and provided a sticky canvas. The “glue” we used to adhere the blocks in place was polyester resin thickened with fumed silica. It’s a food-grade fine powder that adjusts the viscosity of paints and polyester resin to prevent sagging. I mixed each batch to the consistency of a stiff peak meringue; it needed a little encouragement to plop off the brush. Working in small batches meant we avoided resin setting up before we were able to use it.

When all the blocks were in place, I mixed larger batches to act as a filler and as an adhesive for the top pieces. This layer was thick enough that it smooshed out of the seams just slightly when we laid the original fiberglass deck pieces back down. Using jerry cans and buckets filled with water, dive weights and heavy pieces of timber, we weighted down the two top pieces, making sure the cut seams were as even as possible and there was no buckling or gaps. 

All we had left to do was clean up, cross our fingers and wait. Forty-eight hours later, we removed the weights, and we were delighted that the deck felt more solid underfoot than it had in years.

The next step would be to grind down the seams and reseal the cuts with a few layers of fiberglass mat and more polyester, before a final fairing—but all of that would have to wait. Instead, over the next several weeks, we replaced almost all the balsa core in the foredeck. We also found soft spots farther aft on the starboard side deck, and repaired those as well. 

With each section, our confidence in our abilities solidified, and we thought about all those injection holes we’d seen.

As the rainy season loomed, we bought a tarp to drape over the boom, grabbed the saw and prepared to open the next can of worms.

Heather Francis is originally from Nova Scotia, Canada. She and her Aussie husband, Steve, have been living and sailing on their 1973 Newport 41, Kate, since 2008.

They’re currently in Borneo, Malaysia.

Follow their adventures at yachtkate.com.

The post Balsa Core Decks: Repair Tips for Sailboat Owners appeared first on Cruising World.

High-Temp Red: This paste, rated to 650 degrees Fahrenheit, will dry in one hour and is fully cured in 24 hours. I’ve used this for general sealing applications for 40 years. It resists coolant, water, automatic transmission fluid and oil, and comes in a squeeze tube. It can be used to make or replace a pre-cut gasket. Permatex Ultra Blue is very similar to Red, but is rated to 500 degrees Fahrenheit.

Ultra Copper: This bronze paste is rated to 700 degrees Fahrenheit. It will dry in one hour and is fully cured in 24 hours. Well suited for high-temperature applications, such as exhaust manifolds and turbocharger flanges, it too comes in a squeeze tube and can be used to make or replace a pre-cut gasket.

After applying a bead of either product, the parts should be immediately assembled finger tight, allowed to sit for one hour then fully torqued. Don’t apply too much sealant, because it tends to squeeze out into the assembly; a 1⁄16-inch to ¼-inch bead is sufficient. Be sure to surround all bolt holes. Don’t expect paste gasket material to fill large gaps or irregularities (certainly nothing more than 1⁄16 inch, and less if under pressure).

It’s worth noting that, other than in threaded applications, few if any paste gasket-makers are rated for continuous immersion in fuel. For instance, fuel tank sender gaskets should seal without the need to be augmented with sealant. Highside Chemicals’ Leak Lock — a blue paste dispensed from a brush-in-lid bottle or squeeze tube, is a thread sealant that is designed for use with fuel as well as many other onboard liquids, including potable water. It’s a must-have for your gasket kit.

High Tack is a purple liquid (with brush-in-can lid) that’s rated up to 500 degrees Fahrenheit. Cure time is almost immediate, but surfaces can be coated in advance and allowed to dry to a tacky film. It’s effective on threads as well. This product is designed to be used with gaskets, as a dressing, rather than in place of them. I’ve used High Tack to adhere gaskets to surfaces where they may otherwise fall off or out of place during assembly. I learned the hard way that it’s called High Tack for a reason: It is a tenacious adhesive, so use it sparingly if you ever intend to disassemble the part.

In addition to the above gasket-makers, there will be times where you’ll want to duplicate an existing gasket that has failed. Rather than using the cover of HO249 or a chart, it’s best to stock a generic gasket material kit. These are available online and in auto-parts stores; they include a selection of gasket materials, including rubber, paper and cork (but don’t use cork with fuel applications).

To make and install gaskets, the necessary tools include a heavy-duty set of scissors and a gasket-cutter kit. The latter includes a series of round punches that allow you to cut circles in almost any gasket material. Failing to completely clean away the remnants of the previous gasket often leads to leaks. This can be accomplished using a proprietary gasket scraper, which is available in two types, with and without a replicable blade. I prefer the latter because they can be sharpened over and over again using a file. They are also less delicate, and you can lean into them on stubborn gaskets without fear of breaking them. These are available in several widths.

Final surface preparation often benefits from scouring with a 3M Scotch-Brite pad followed by cleaning with a solvent such as brake cleaner, mineral spirits or 3M general purpose adhesive remover.

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post Make Your Own Gaskets appeared first on Cruising World.

Reaching out of the channel in a moderate breeze, Quiver leaned on her big, overlapping genoa and accelerated up to hull speed. Surrounded by a fleet of vessels of similar speed, we had managed a clean and conservative start to our first Friday night beer-can race on my new-to-me cruising yacht. The headsail was eased and furled slightly before we reached the final red channel marker. As I turned up, the mainsail was trimmed in and the now-smaller jib sheeted home. Quiver powered up, heeled over and took off upwind. The Doug Peterson-designed 34-footer was clearly in her element when going uphill, and I looked forward to working our way through the fleet on the long port-tack beat toward Oahu’s Diamond Head.

Mere seconds after going hard on the wind, there was a loud bang. And then the headstay went slack. Without enough time to contemplate whether the mast was going to stay upright, I quickly evaluated the situation and decided to turn up into the wind instead of bearing away to a run. Once in irons, I handed off the helm and ran two spinnaker halyards forward to help secure the mast. Amazingly, we were still able to furl the jib. Motorsailing back to the dock with just a mainsail up, I played every possible scenario through in my head, unable to diagnose exactly what had happened or what had broken.

Back at the dock, there was ample daylight left to pull the headstay and furler down to investigate — much more easily done with the presence of a few friends. At first, nothing appeared to be broken at the bottom or the top, making it that much more confusing as to what had failed. Once I pulled the furler drum apart, however, I quickly found the smoking gun. The toggle at the bottom of the headstay, which connects to another toggle and effectively lives inside of the furler, was extremely corroded and had failed catastrophically. Fortunately for me and the boat, which I had purchased just five days earlier, the failed toggle could not fit through the furler’s aluminum foil; that was all that kept the headstay from physically separating and the boat potentially dismasting.

The entire experience was a shocker, to say the least. I had sailed the boat on a sea trial with the previous owner as part of the purchase. In 20 knots of trade-wind breeze, we sailed into the channel all powered up, with a reef in the main and a partial jib, with not a care in the world. Back at the dock, I had a friend help crank me aloft to complete a rig inspection, something that was very common for me to do in my years of working as a professional yacht rigger and as crew and preparateur on high-end racing yachts in the San Francisco Bay area. When all looked satisfactory up the rig, I bought the boat for $10,000 cash and sailed her back to Waikiki that day. Five short days and a couple more daysails later, the one rigging component that was out of sight during my visual inspection nearly brought the entire rig crashing down on my first Friday race with the boat.

After a trip to the chandlery and an afternoon work session with a friend, I had the blown-apart toggle replaced with a shiny new one, making the boat, in theory at least, perfectly sailable. Without fully knowing how old the standing rigging was, however, I decided that now was the time to fully rerig Quiver. I had planned on doing this before I did any serious sailing with the boat, but after our early mishap, this expensive yet basic maintenance project took on a new urgency. While rerigging the boat, I would also inspect the chainplates and make sure that all was structurally sound with them. I had dismasted a boat before, and as much fun as my time fixing that boat had been, I sincerely didn’t need to dismast another.

First things first: I needed to measure the rig for new stays, so I grabbed my mast-climbing gear and got right to work (see “Going Up,” at the end of this article).

As I headed aloft, I took a minimum of tools and cranked myself up the mast, taking the butt end of a 100-foot tape measure with me. With a helper at the bottom, I held the zero mark on the tape measure tightly against the center of the clevis pin at the top of each shroud (depending on how your stays are attached to the mast, look for the center of the load-bearing point at the top).

Standing on deck with the spool end of the tape measure, my helper pulled the tape tight and measured to the center of the clevis pin at deck level. Once he called out a measurement to me, we would take our respective ends of the tape off of the shrouds and then measure again. Once we were confident that we had it measured as accurately as possible — down to one-twentieth of an inch — we recorded the measurement and moved on to the next. In some cases where there were slight differences between port and starboard (only a couple tenths or a half inch) we just averaged the two sides and took that as our measurement for the new shrouds.

Following the old handyman’s adage of “measure twice, cut once,” my helpers, Mike and Kristen, and I all took great care to get the measurements right before placing our rigging order.

Getting boat parts and work done in Hawaii can often be a challenge because there are fewer marine facilities and resources in the islands than there are on the mainland, and everything is an expensive and slow ship or plane ride away. As a result, a bit of resourcefulness is always of benefit when cruising or living in a remote place. In my case, the resourcefulness was measuring the rig myself and ordering all of the parts from an outfit that I knew could fill the order in a timely fashion, give me great service and get me better deals on parts than I could achieve locally. I called up my old friend Logan at Rigworks in San Diego. He was pumped to get the opportunity to help out and got right back to me with an invoice, all ­done up with some good-guy pricing. Everything was in stock, and they could have my shiny new rigging to me in a week. Perfect.

Comparing apples to apples, it’s interesting to note that the rigging for my Peterson 34 was right at about double what it was for my Cal 27 and Cal 29, owing to the nature in which boats get exponentially more expensive as they get larger.

With the rigging on the way, I needed to have two chainplates made locally. The smallest chainplates on the boat, for the forward lower shrouds, needed replacing as the starboard one had a crack in it. My quickest and most convenient option ended up being a general machine shop located in an industrial zone in an alley in Honolulu. Ed Dang Machine Works custom ordered 316 stainless-steel stock and, using the originals as patterns, built two custom chainplates and backing plates for a reasonable price. Built in the afternoon on a Friday, they came out a bit off and had to be remade. The machinist fully owned up to his mistake, apologized for the inconvenience and remade the chainplates the same day, for the original price, which was greatly appreciated because I was on a mission to get Quiver back on the water on time and on budget.

Installing the new chainplates, backing plates and cover plates was straight­forward and simple. I also made a point to pull a couple of other chainplates out for visual inspections. Like the headstay’s lower toggle failure that easily could have dismasted the boat, it’s usually the hidden part of a chainplate, where it passes through the deck, that poses the biggest potential risk. Corrosion can develop there because of a lack of oxygen, causing the metal to fail.

Once the new rigging arrived, it was merely a job of installing nine shrouds one by one and then tackling the hardest, the headstay, last.

Slacking off all four lower shrouds before going aloft, I cranked myself up to the first of the two sets of spreaders and locked off my block-and-tackle harness with a double slipknot. Carefully unpinning one shroud at a time, I tied a tag line through the marine eye fitting and slowly lowered each shroud down to my helper, who would then remove the old wire and tie on the new one. Pulling the new shroud into place and then untying it from the tag line, I could then pin each shroud to the mast.

Carefully unpinning one shroud at a time, I tied a tag line through the marine eye fitting and slowly lowered each shroud down to my helper, who would then remove the old wire and tie on the new one. Pulling the new shroud into place and then untying it from the tag line, I could then pin each shroud to the mast.

Installing the new shrouds with the rig up, in the slip, is a surprisingly easy job, especially when you have competent help and no major hiccups. With proper techniques and a thoroughly planned, safety-first approach, it is well within the scope of many cruising sailors to measure, remove, replace and potentially repair their own rigging.

With the nine new shrouds in place, it was time to move on to the headstay, which would be by far the most difficult and laborious task. Tying an 1⁄8-inch Dyneema messenger line around a rigging component at the top of the headstay and then securing it to the masthead, I ensured that I could not drop the headstay while unpinning it, which was critical because the headstay weighs so much more than any other shroud due to the furling unit and its aluminum foil extrusion.

After unpinning and lowering the entire unit to the dock, we chopped off the swageless eye fitting at the top. There are methods of splicing an old headstay to a new one to help pull the new headstay in place, but with a foil that looked fairly large and easy to work with, we just pulled out the old wire and fed the new one up the foil, jiggling it around each time it got stuck at a joint between two sections. With the new headstay now in place, I measured it and used a hacksaw to cut it to the proper length. Next, I picked apart the strands and carefully installed a Hayn Hi-Mod swageless fitting, making sure to use anti-corrosion Tef-Gel where needed.

Once everything was ready, I went back aloft, pulled up the new headstay and pinned it back in place. It wasn’t exceptionally easy to pull the shroud up and install it while 50 feet in the air, but again, with a thoroughly planned, safety-first approach, it was quite a manageable task.

Though I still plan to pull the mast and give it a thorough overhaul before any long-distance cruising, Quiver now has brand-new standing rigging and a couple of new chainplates. A few weeks and a few thousand dollars after nearly dismasting my new vessel, I sailed Quiver out of the same channel, hung a left at the last red marker and turned hard on the wind again. The drama of headstay failure was replaced with the sheer pleasure of sailing a good and powerful 34-foot tiller boat upwind.

Over the next 19 hours, the breeze eventually went light, and died altogether a couple of times, but my thrown-together crew of four sailed to Lahaina, on the island of Maui, for Quiver‘s maiden voyage with the upgraded rig.

Power-reaching into Lahaina at 0100 with a stiff offshore breeze, I had my first epic bit of night-sailing on the boat. I had sailed to Maui to attend my close friend “Uncle” Tony’s wedding. He had sailed his previous Kaufman 47 Knot Tide Down to New Zealand from Hawaii, alongside my old Cal 2-27 Mongo. The night before the wedding, Quiver served up a picture-perfect sunset whale-watching tour for the bride and groom and some of their close friends, complete with numerous humpback sightings. It was a fond new memory to add to my collection from the past.

While I still have many more projects to complete before taking off on my first long bluewater cruise aboard the 34-footer, the unfortunate gear failure just after purchasing Quiver turned into a valuable experience that signaled the beginning of another good old boat’s resurrection. Quiver was already in better nick than she had been in years, and the dream of voyaging to distant lands was well and truly back alive after months of boatlessness. After a ripping sail home to Oahu via the north shore of Molokai, Quiver had proved herself. Only one question still remained: Where on earth will you take me, boat?

Going Up: Ascending a Mast

Before working on any mast — unless it’s a crewed race boat with lots of muscle to haul me aloft — I much prefer to assemble my own rig-ascending setup as opposed to being dependent on a helper to help crank me up and down the spar. To do this, I use my bowman’s harness, which is essentially just a rock-climbing harness, and attach a block and tackle to it.

I use a 3-to-1 purchase, meaning that I need roughly four times as much rope as the mast is long. In the case of Quiver, that meant buying about 200 feet of 5⁄16-inch double-braid polyester line. A 4-to-1 purchase is also quite useful; it merely costs and weighs a bit more, along with the additional rope required. There are many other ways to ascend a mast, but for performing work aloft by one’s self or pulling rigging jobs on the side, the block and tackle attached to a harness or bosun’s chair is my preferred method. Once I reach the desired height, I use a double slipknot to secure myself in place.

Ronnie Simpson, a frequent CW contributor, is a sailor and writer living in Honolulu while he pursues a degree in integrated multi­media at Hawaii Pacific University. He is the co-founder of a wounded veterans sailing nonprofit.

The post Rigging Rescue: DIY Headstay Repair and Upgrade appeared first on Cruising World.

While it’s easier to check the following items with the boat still on the hard, you should be able to inspect and service critical systems even if you’re a full-time liveaboard and the boat’s in the water. Here then, is the fitting out to-do list I use on a ­periodic basis.

Through-hulls should actuate smoothly. The older cone-shaped valves can be easily disassembled and greased, while ball valves respond well to some grease applied from the outside while they are closed (be sure to work them until they turn smoothly). If the boat’s out of the water, be sure to close any nonessential through-hulls before launching. We usually launch with just the engine’s intake open.

Every hose connection below the waterline should have two hose clamps in good condition, and any hoses should be free of cracking and inspected for weak spots or chafe. Also, be sure that an emergency plug is either tethered to the hose or in a very obvious and quickly accessible location.

Bilge pumps ought to test normally in both automatic and manually switched-on mode. Our ketch, Lyra, also has a high-water alarm, simply a float switch wired into a siren. Consider adding an alarm if your vessel doesn’t have one — ours has gone off twice in the 10 years we’ve owned the boat, saving us our engine and, in one case, a possible sinking. Manual bilge pumps should be crack-free and checked to make sure they are working properly.

Steering gear will operate smoothly if inspected and maintained properly. In the event that the boat’s out of the water, hold the trailing edge of the rudder firmly and throw your weight back and forth on it. There should be little to no play or vibration in the rudder shaft, tube or shoe at the base of the skeg (if your boat has one). Look for any stress cracking around the rudderstock, both inside the boat and on the rudder.

Cable steering should have no wear on the chain or sprocket. Tension should be not quite tight enough to thrum if you tap the wire. Any burrs can be found by running a paper towel along the cable — look for any bits of paper that are left behind. If there is any metal dust below the chain sprocket or any sheaves, it indicates that abnormal wear is occurring, and there may be an alignment or bearing issue. Wiping a light coat of motor oil on the chain and cable will complete the inspection.

Auxiliary power is, in many cases, a modern cornerstone of safe and enjoyable sailing. While many of us prefer to think of ourselves as intrepid sailors battling the elements and braving the salty brine in the grand tradition of Joshua Slocum, the sad fact is that most of us tend to rely on the trusty iron genny rather more than not as we battle tide, weather or simply stay an extra couple of hours at anchor before moving on. It behooves us to ensure that the engine is in tip-top working order.

One of the most important tools at your disposal is a comprehensive maintenance log. Update it frequently and as thoroughly as possible. This will provide a detailed history of the work you’ve done but should also include contact information for parts sources and mechanics, and commonly used part numbers for quick troubleshooting and maintenance later.

Hopefully, your engine oil and fuel ­filters were changed in the fall. With the motor still cold, the motor oil, transmission oil and coolant should be at the manufacturer’s recommended levels, and any clear bowl, such as that found in the fuel filter, should be clean. Place fresh white oil-absorption pads under the engine to show any drips that occur both before and after running the engine. Each fluid in the engine has a distinct color, scent and feel — be familiar with each as it comes new from the container.Engine oil will typically discolor within a few hours of run time, but should never smell like soot or fuel. If there is any cause for concern — or just for peace of mind — an inexpensive way to glean an amazing amount of information about the health of the engine is to send an oil sample to a lab. There are a number of kits and companies, such as Blackstone Labs, that will analyze the engine’s lubricants for about $30 per test. They will check for unwelcome things like water, antifreeze, carbon and fuel in the oil. The lab will want at least 20 hours on the fluid change for accurate analysis.It is time to change the coolant if there is discoloration or you find sediment in the reservoir. Always use the recommended coolant type for your engine; mixing different coolants can cause major problems associated with precipitates or acid.Before heading out for the season’s shakedown run, make sure the intake through-hull is open and the strainer is clean.

While it’s fine to change the impeller on the manufacturer’s recommended schedule, consider removing the water-pump cover and checking for any wear, cracking or missing paddles. Also look for any sign of salt trails or dripping seals, which can indicate a problem. I recently had a virtually new impeller burn up when it lost its prime due to a rushed cleaning of the gasket surfaces. There was a clear salt trail down the face of the water-pump cover. If the motor has a zinc, be sure it’s been replaced.

When I first start the engine after a prolonged period, I like to warm it gently while still at the dock. I’m careful to listen for any unusual noises — tapping valves, squeals, clunks when shifting, etc. Are there fluid drips or seeps on or under the motor? Are the batteries charging?

Also check for normal water flow out the exhaust, and watch for smoke or a sheen on the water.

This is also a good time to check your stuffing box to make sure that it’s functioning properly. There should be about a drip per second on the older-style packing boxes and none at all on the dripless variety. The dripless glands should never be hot to the touch (Take the motor out of gear to check this!), and the ­accordion-style cover should have no cracking. Hose clamps mating either type of stuffing box to the shaft log should be robust and in perfect condition, and the shaft should spin with little or no vibration.

I prefer to run up the engine in steps to full throttle once underway, checking everything each time I increase rotations per minute. Diesel motors need to be run hard from time to time to clean out soot deposits. Doing so will help keep your injectors and turbo in top condition. Also, a few minutes of hard running early on will ensure peace of mind when you need to open it up to make port on an outgoing tide on a windy day. If all is well, cool the power plant down and check all the fluids again before its next use.

A few other items that are often overlooked merit some attention before loading the family aboard and merrily pointing the bow toward the next adventure.

Freshwater systems in cold climates will have antifreeze in the lines and often in the tanks. The quickest way to clean them out and prepare them for use is to add just a few gallons of fresh water at a time while running all of the water-using appliances. Run the tank dry and repeat until water runs clear, and smells and tastes clean.

While the hose is out, spray down ­traditionally leaky areas to locate any new drips. The mast boot, portlights and anything that is through-bolted (particularly over bunk areas!) are all good bets.

Check anchor chain and line for overall health. Are all the shackles moused or zip-tied? Is the rode’s bitter end attached to the boat with a piece of line that will hold the boat but can be cut?

Treat canvas. Sunbrella recommends (we do too) 303 Fabric Guard. This is best done with the canvas laid out on the dock or grass, but can be done in place. Annual treatments will waterproof and protect the fabric, often extending its life by years.

Green Brett spends his sailing season as a charter captain aboard the family’s Reliance 44 ketch Lyra in Newport, Rhode Island.

The post Spring Fitting Out Checklist for Your Boat appeared first on Cruising World.

Corrosion

Inescapable and ever present, corrosion remains among the most misunderstood of all onboard phenomena. And no wonder; sailboats are built using a wide range of metallic components, from bronze seacocks and iron engine blocks to stainless-steel and aluminum deck hardware and copper wiring. Add water to this mix, especially seawater — or electricity — and the results can be heart-achingly unpleasant and jaw-droppingly costly.

Still, despite misperceptions about the causes of corrosion and how to prevent it, it’s not especially difficult for marine-industry professionals and boat owners alike to gain a working knowledge of this seagoing malady.

Corrosion is found in many varieties, each of which is specific to different metals. It can range from simple rust on cast iron to aluminum’s poultice corrosion and the crevice corrosion found on stainless steel. But in general, there are two overarching mechanisms that affect most cruising vessels: galvanic decay that takes place between dissimilar metals and damage caused by stray electrical current.

Tip: Sacrificial zinc anodes are attached to underwater metals, such as propeller shafts, through-hull fittings, struts and rudders, as well as heat exchangers.

Galvanic corrosion occurs when dissimilar metals are placed in contact with each other, are otherwise connected via a wire or other conductor, and exposed to an electrolyte, which in this case can be fresh or salt water, or even high humidity. Of these, seawater’s abundant conductivity predictably accelerates the process.

Galvanic corrosion is electrical in nature, though it will occur without an actual power source. Instead, electrons flow naturally between dissimilar metals, much like in a battery, albeit at a very low rate, typically measured in thousandths of an amp.

While virtually any two metals will interact with each other in this scenario, those that are further apart on the galvanic series, or scale, will interact to a greater degree, or more aggressively. Metals that are located at the most noble end of the galvanic series (least prone to corrosion) include exotic materials such as graphite, gold and titanium, as well as 316 stainless steel, and nickel-chrome alloys used for propeller shafts. Those toward the least noble end of the scale, magnesium, zinc and aluminum alloys, are significantly less corrosion-resistant, but can be used to protect the metals around them.

Dissimilar metal combinations that are especially problematic include copper (and copper alloys such as bronze and brass) and aluminum, and to a lesser degree, stainless steel and aluminum. In fact, because of the nether region it inhabits on the galvanic scale, virtually any metal placed into contact with aluminum, and in the presence of moisture, will cause the aluminum to corrode. In 1895, before this phenomenon was thoroughly understood from a boatbuilding perspective, the Herreshoff-designed and -built America’s Cup contender Defender was assembled using a nickel-aluminum alloy hull above the waterline and bronze plate below, laid out over steel frames, with bronze rivets throughout. This created a batterylike galvanic mélange, and it wasn’t long before the boat had to be scrapped because the hull plating had pitted so heavily it was no longer seaworthy (but not before it fulfilled its intended purpose: winning the Cup).

Aboard Your Boat

Examples of galvanic corrosion that can be found aboard the average cruising vessel include brass hydraulic steering cylinders or bronze seawater strainers supported by aluminum brackets; aluminum hydraulic cylinders (often used with outboard motors), which utilize brass hydraulic fittings; and to a lesser degree, aluminum deck hardware or masts and booms that carry stainless-steel fasteners.

However, the very best example of galvanic corrosion is one that’s intentional: Sacrificial zinc anodes are attached or otherwise electrically connected via a bonding system to underwater metals, such as propeller shafts, through-hull fittings, struts and rudders, as well as heat exchangers. Ignoble zinc is one of three sacrificial metals that can be used for cathodic protection aboard vessels; the other two are aluminum and magnesium. Of these, zinc should only be used in seawater; magnesium is suited only to fresh water; aluminum can be used in fresh, brackish or seawater. All three corrode while protecting the metal to which they’re connected.

In practical terms, the most effective means of preventing galvanic corrosion is to avoid using dissimilar metals in scenarios where they will come into contact with each other, or where they are otherwise electrically connected. Where this is unavoidable, an insulator can be inserted between them, either a nonconductive material or, in some cases, another metal that is benign to both. Nonconductive materials include prefabricated fiberglass or epoxy-based sheets (but avoid using nonreinforced plastics in highly loaded structural applications).

Stainless steel is often used as an insulator between aluminum and copper-based alloys, say between aluminum fuel tanks and brass (a copper alloy) valves. While aluminum and brass are technically still connected, the stainless-­steel bushing provides the necessary degree of spatial isolation; however, this approach would not be acceptable for submerged or continuously wetted components.

The Boats Around You

While galvanic corrosion is typically a localized event affecting the dissimilar metals on a given vessel, it can also occur between boats that are in close proximity. This concept can be somewhat confusing, and is understandably the source of a great deal of misinformation, including the “hot marina” myth.

Inter-vessel galvanic corrosion occurs when, for instance, two boats berthed near each other both plug into shore power. In doing so, the green alternating-current safety ground wiring for each vessel becomes connected regardless of whether or not the shore power is energized. (The AC safety ground is tied in with the boat’s direct-current ground wiring and bonding system that’s used to connect underwater metals such as seacocks, struts and shafts. More on this in a moment.)

Tip: Galvanic isolators work by blocking up to 1.4 volts DC (which is above the typical galvanic corrosion-voltage threshold) on the AC shore-power safety ground wire.

To reiterate, as soon as shore power is plugged in, AC safety grounds and bonding systems between vessels are interconnected. When this occurs, intact sacrificial anodes — or less noble underwater metals such as aluminum saildrives — on one boat may begin inadvertently protecting underwater metals on other vessels whose anodes are depleted. Except for the fact that the shore-power cord must be connected, this phenomenon has little if anything to do with the marina, or shore power per se; it remains a galvanic phenomenon.

As insidious as this scenario is, it is easily thwarted using either a galvanic isolator or an isolation transformer.

Galvanic isolators work by blocking up to 1.4 volts DC (which is above the typical galvanic corrosion-voltage threshold) on the AC shore-power safety ground wire. The isolator still allows AC fault current to flow freely, which is critical from a safety perspective. Because galvanic corrosion involves DC current, the electrical interconnection of adjacent vessels is prevented by the galvanic isolator.

Isolation transformers take this a step further by isolating all shore-power connections, including the AC safety ground, between a boat and the dock, thereby blocking any level of inter-vessel conductivity. Every vessel equipped with a shore-power system should utilize one of these devices.

While it is a potentially serious and costly phenomenon, galvanic corrosion occurs slowly, typically over the course of weeks if not months and years. With proper alloy selection, isolation and cathodic protection, it can be minimized if not eliminated.

Stray Current

Stray-current corrosion differs from galvanic corrosion in that it only occurs in the presence of an outside source of electricity, most commonly a boat’s own DC electrical system, battery or battery charger. Shore power, or AC voltage, does not typically cause stray-current corrosion. If it did, the DC-voltage-blocking ability of a galvanic isolator would be ineffective. Rare though it may be, when it does occur, AC-induced stray-­current corrosion is of greatest concern for aluminum-hulled boats, as well as boats with aluminum saildrives.

The typical stray-current corrosion scenario involves a faulty electrical connection that is located in, or close to, bilge water, or one that makes contact with a submerged metal. Contrary to popular belief, electricity does not seek ground; it seeks a return path to its source. In the case of a boat, that’s the vessel’s battery. Current leaking into bilge water may travel to a through-hull fitting, then into the water in which the vessel is floating, then on to other underwater metals, which are grounded to the DC-negative system via the engine block, and thence back to the battery.

Tip: The typical stray-current corrosion scenario involves a faulty electrical connection that is located in, or close to, bilge water, or one that makes contact with a submerged metal.

When this occurs, underwater metals will almost certainly suffer from severe and rapid damage. Unlike galvanic corrosion, which occurs comparatively slowly, stray-current corrosion moves with startling rapidity, potentially destroying a propeller, shaft or saildrive in a matter of days.

Sacrificial anodes, galvanic isolators and isolation transformers offer little if any protection against this electrical scourge (isolation transformers can be beneficial for preventing stray-current corrosion that originates on vessels other than the one equipped with the transformer). Isolation transformers prevent stray current that reaches or leaves a boat via the shore-power grounding conductor. However, they do not block current or corrosion in a vessel sitting in the path of a stray current flowing between two boats. This current can pass through a metal hull or its bonding system on the way back to its source, causing corrosion.

The most effective means of preventing stray-current corrosion is by observing sound, American Boat and Yacht Council (ABYC)-compliant wiring practices, particularly in and around bilge areas.

Bilge-pump and float-switch connections should be made no less than 18 inches above the base of the pump. The primary reason for doing so is to improve reliability; however, this approach also reduces the likelihood of stray-current corrosion. If this is impractical, then connections should be made waterproof using heat-shrink butt splices or stand-alone heat-shrink tubing. If necessary, apply silicone sealant around the connections, and never allow them to languish in bilge water. A detail as seemingly innocuous as improperly crimping, and thereby piercing, a heat-shrink butt splice can create a stray-current pathway.

While particular attention needs to be paid to electrical junctions made in the vicinity of bilges, stray-current corrosion can occur virtually anywhere aboard a vessel where a positive DC conductor makes contact, directly or indirectly, with a submerged metallic structure.

Yet another means of preventing or diminishing the effects of stray-current corrosion involves the use of a bonding system (their installation guidelines are detailed in ABYC Standard E-2, “Cathodic Protection”).

Bonding systems are one segment of a vessel’s overall grounding system, which encompasses the DC negative, AC safety ground and lightning ground systems, all of which are interconnected.

In brief, a bonding system electrically interconnects underwater metals and many metallic machinery components, including through-hull fittings and seacocks, rudder and propeller shafts, struts and strainers. It does this by maintaining all underwater metals at the same voltage. If all metals are of equal voltage, no current can flow between them, and there will be no stray-current damage.

Tip: Stray-current corrosion can occur virtually anywhere aboard a vessel where a positive DC conductor makes contact, directly or indirectly, with a submerged metallic structure.

There are two primary benefits to bonding. First, it can mitigate stray-current corrosion. In the case of voltage leaking into bilge water from a defective bilge pump connection, if the under­water hardware through which the fault current flowed was bonded, all or most of the current would return to its source, the battery, rather than through the water in which the vessel floats, thereby eliminating or minimizing the damage to other underwater metals. It’s the un-bonded hardware that will corrode in this scenario.

The second benefit of a bonding system relates back to galvanic corrosion and its prevention. Bonded metals are nearly always dissimilar (silicon-bronze seacocks, stainless-steel alloy shafts and manganese-bronze propellers, for instance), which violates the aforementioned guidelines on galvanic corrosion. Bonding systems, however, include one additional component in this metal cocktail: a sacrificial hull-, shaft- or rudder-­mounted anode.

Connecting underwater metals to each other and then to an anode follows the “bond-and-protect” protocol, a proven approach that works, provided a handful of guidelines are followed. Chief among these is ensuring low-resistance connections are made between bonded components and hull anodes, the standard for which, established by ABYC, is stringent indeed: a maximum of just 1 ohm.

Aboard the vast majority of vessels I inspect, bonding systems, and specifically, their connections, are in ­abominable condition: They are green, crusty, loose or ­broken altogether.

Like any other system aboard your sailboat, the bonding system should be periodically inspected and maintained. Corroded or otherwise poor connections should be cleaned or replaced. If doubt exists about the integrity of the system, resistance between components should be checked by using an ohm meter while the vessel is hauled out to measure the resistance between the anode and the metals to which it is connected.

Corrosion — and preventing it — need not be mysterious. While its analysis is often deemed a black art, it is in fact anything but; its causes have been studied and are clearly understood. In most cases, efforts to keep corrosion at bay are within the skill sets of the do-it-yourself sailor. But while the guidelines I’ve outlined will help prevent the most commonly encountered corrosion problems, if you find yourself in over your head, make sure you call in an ABYC-certified corrosion specialist.

Steve D’Antonio is author of CW’s Monthly Maintenance column and offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

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Something special unites the three boats gathered in our gorgeous anchorage off New Zealand’s Great Mercury Island. All three are small and modest but sturdy vessels; our 1981 Dufour 35, Namani, is the newest of the three. It also has the biggest cockpit — a rare thing in today’s cruising society, where popular misconception seems to hold that anything under 40 feet isn’t suitable for leaving the coast. Yet two of those three boats have sailed halfway around the world from Europe (with children aboard, no less), while the third is crewed by two brothers from North America.

It isn’t just the size and age of our vessels that brings us ­together in an unofficial club of sorts. None of us have a working anchor windlass either (not to mention refrigerators or functioning shower heads). Namani’s windlass gave up the ghost back in Tahiti, Saltbreaker’s sputtered for the last time at around longitude 160, and Sea Bright — well, her crew can’t recall the last time they weighed anchor with anything but man (or woman) power.

It’s not that our crews don’t have capable, self-taught mechanics on board. We’ve all tried, tried and tried again to fix our stubborn windlasses, along with other gear. But persistent quirks, a lack of accessible parts, or limited cruising kitties prevent us from checking that one item off the to-do list. A key characteristic of our special fraternity, however, is that we don’t allow hiccups to stop us from achieving our cruising dreams.

Twenty thousand miles of cruising away from our starting point, we realize that we’ve developed a new outlook when it comes to equipment on board. If something breaks — no, when something breaks (gear failure being one of the few certainties of the sea) — we might get angry and frustrated, but not disheartened. At least, not for very long. We quickly move on to a more constructive stage in the emotional process and try to fix it. But if the device in question still defies our best efforts, we find creative solutions. And sometimes, the best solution is to just live without.

Yes, I mean it. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that the only thing as satisfying as a job well done is a job not done at all. It works even if it doesn’t work, so to speak. Happily, we’ve claimed victory in enough repair battles to counterbalance the few defeats. Certainly, there are things we’d never leave port without. However, there are plenty of things we can — and happily do — go without, and never feel as if we’re roughing it.

The moral of the story is not that you shouldn’t try to fix anything that breaks; it’s just that you don’t necessarily have to fix everything that breaks. The key is knowing when to give in and get on with your cruise.

On a recent night, all three crews gathered in our snug cockpit to sip a fine New Zealand wine and dine on scallops harvested from the bay. We watched the sun set behind a promising new horizon, bringing a close to another unrushed, satisfying day. We didn’t bemoan what we lacked, but toasted what we did have: good company, sturdy vessels and twinkling stars to steer them by.

And that’s the point, of course. Isn’t it?

— Nadine Slavinski

The post If It’s Broke, Don’t Fix it appeared first on Cruising World.