To Baltimore!

It was after 3 before we got underway. Condor had been launched about noon on Friday afternoon. We had watched her be lowered into the water then quickly jumped aboard to check for leaks. Through-hulls weren’t leaking. Stuffing box was dry, as was the stuffing box on the rudder. Condor was floating with no problems.

We fired up her Westerbeke 27 and motored clear of the travel lift slings. With only ideas as to how she would handle, we put her though her paces under power. With her off-set propshaft and folding prop we weren’t quite sure what to expect. Somewhat surprisingly, she quickly came to a stop when put in reverse, and with very little propwalk. We turned a circle to see how she would respond and to get a feel for her before we maneuvered into the inside of the fuel dock where Lenny had told us to go.

We decided to back down into the spot. Condor handled herself well as we slowly came to a stop with another boat just astern of us. We needed to get the new main on, get some water in the tanks, and inspect the non-functioning steaming and anchor lights.

A trip up the mast showed that the lenses were crazed and the fixtures corroded. We could walk the mile and a half to West Marine to get new and go back up the mast to install them or just head out. While Solomons is nice, we didn’t think we wanted to spend another Friday night there. Our last experience was the week before. Party seemed to go on forever and the restrooms reeked of vomit the next day.

The decision was made. We bent on the new main, filled the tanks and headed out. There were a few boats coming and going as we left. Most were fishing boats, heading out with their patrons eager to land the prize rock fish or coming back with either elated or dejected passengers. The fish that had been brought in that morning were between 3 and 4 feet. Nice prizes for those who had been lucky enough to land one.

As we passed cleared Drum Point, we hoisted the main to take advantage of the Southerly wind. We cranked on the halyard and the main went up and stopped. The brand new slides bound in the track. With a little alternating pressure of pulling down on the main and up on the halyard, the main went up. We turned north, shut off the Westerbeke and let the sails take over.

The light ten knot wind and the chop from the powerboats made for a rolly ride. Our course was almost due north. We had the Genoa out to port and the main to starboard for a wing-on-wing run up the bay. We knew we had no anchor or steaming light so we would sail all night or find a quite anchorage where we could get away with just hanging a flashlight from the spreader halyard.

With little need for navigating, I went to work on other repairs that we hadn’t yet finished. Suzanne was properly coated with sunblock and had plenty of water to keep her hydrated. I turned to rebuilding the manual foot galley pump. The foot pump gurgled when pressed rather then actually pumping water.

The previous owner had the foresight to buy a rebuilt kit and stow it on the boat. Later I would understand how important this was. So, with the dozen and a half new gaskets and “O” rings, I went to work disassembling the pump. Rebuilding the pump is a challenge unto itself. Reassembly requires four hands in the space of one. Pressure on one side of the pump to hold that gasket in place pushed the opposite gasket out of place. Compound that with the rolling of the boat as the screws and nuts run across the navigation table as soon as they are needed. But, with much persistence, the pump rebuild was completed and the pump reinstalled. At least we would have water to use for washing.

Now it was dinner time. We had missed lunch as we were scrambling to get underway. The warm sun was giving way to the cooler evening breeze. Hot soup would be good. We reconnected the CNG (compressed natural gas) tank to the line. With the stove off, we opened the tank, watched the gauge go up to 2200psi, and shut it off. We then employed the complex fume detector know as the human nose, and sniffed for leaks. With the stove and tank both off, the gauge held the 2200 psi for about half an hour. We figured we were okay especially since CNG is lighter than air and the fumes should dissipate out of the open cabin.

If you are into this kind of stuff, you may have heard that CNG is less efficient than LP gas. With that in mind, I proceeded to heat the soup in the one pan we had aboard. (I didn’t feel like installing the inverter so I could run the microwave). Within a minute and a half, the soup was steaming hot! Our 1000 watt microwave would have taken 5 minutes to get it up to this temperature.

With warm full bellies, we contemplated our trip and the closing darkness. Should we make for an anchorage or marina, or just keep sailing. We decided we would just sail. This was fine until about 10 p.m. and our light breeze went away. Tired by the flapping sails, we decided to take them down and motor to a quite bay to anchor. Just east of Thomas Point Light, it would be about a 5 mile motor to White Hall Bay.

With the sail not willing to move either up or down, we knew the only way to persuade it was to go up the mast to the offending slide and gently work it down. Not a big deal since it was stuck just above the lower spreader. This would be just a little more complicated since it was dark and there was the gentle rocking motion which is amplified 20 feet above the deck. I strapped on the harness and tied into the halyard and got Suzanne situated to hoist me up. Yeah, it seems a little backward for the 125 pound person to hoist the 225 pound person up the mast, but this is the way it was going to be. Suzanne is not fond of swinging freely from the mast, especially in the dark.

Since there was nothing around and we didn’t want the engine noise to be yet another barrier to this task, we decide to just drift while we did this. Just as she got ready to hoist, we heard a powerboat. It was moving pretty fast and seemed to be heading our way. Maybe we should just hang on a second. Yep, the lights were headed right for us. A white, a green and a red light glowed. Wait, what is that? The boat slowed and a figure on the foredeck called out to ask if we were okay. I explained that we simply had a fouled slide and was just about to go up the mast to free it. The figure asked if we were able to get underway, to which we replied to the affirmative. He suggested that we get underway to the north directly. I explained that it would only be a minute to free the slide – ten minutes at the most. He calmly informed us that in ten minutes there would be a cargo ship dropping her anchor in our exact spot – whether we were there or not.

With his gentle persuasion, we decided to fire up the Westerbeke and motor north. After motoring about a half of a mile, we figured we were free of the anchoring cargo ship and went back to the flogging mainsail. Suzanne hoisted me up and with the same up and down on the sail and halyard in addition to an outward pull, the slide was free and the sail came down.
We flaked the sail and headed to White Hall Bay, settling in on the anchor about midnight. And of course, as soon as we turned in, the wind picked up and shifted and provided us with a couple of bumpy hours when what we really wanted was some sleep.

Bright and early Saturday morning, we were up and about. A look around the anchorage showed a distant ketch as a neighbor. We had seen his anchor light when we came in, but it disappeared as we prepared to anchor. Meanwhile, our little LED flashlight had burned all night.

We opened the gate to let the slides out and dumped out new main on the deck. The handy leatherman was put to use filing and smoothing out the rough casting of the bronze slides. Reluctantly, Suzanne went about half way up the mast to clean the track and sand any corrosion or rough areas. The sail was fed back in and a liberal coating of Teflon grease was applied to the track and the bronze slides. Once up, we dropped it about halfway just to make sure it would come down. No problems.

It was about 11 by the time we headed out of White Hall Bay. We scrubbed the mud from the anchor as we pulled it up and put it back in the locker. Condor needs a bow roller if we’re going to be anchoring. Lifting that Danforth 22 and her chain around the pulpit is no fun.
Once clear of Hackett Point, we hoisted our sails and headed north. The Annapolis NOODs were underway just to our south and it was quite a sight to see over 70 boats out racing. We spotted a boat on an intersecting course and figured it would be under the bay bridge long before we got there. I have to admit that I was a little surprised as we closed on this boat and were soon overtaking the Beneteau 47.7. I knew Condor should be fast, but to pass a much larger boat downwind, was a little more than I expected.

The sail to Baltimore consisted of the same southerly and we sailed wing-on-wing all the way up the bay with little excitement. Our only real entertainment was wondering why the young child was being towed in the dinghy behind the sailboat. Was it a time-out? Was that his way of sailing? Did Dad just need a little time away from junior? We’ll never know.

With the genny poled out, we were able to carry the wing-on-wing sails all the way to Fort McHenry. Turning a 180 just past Domino, we dropped the Genoa on the deck and tidied it up. The southerly wind allowed us to gently drift up to the dock at the DSC. Condor made it to Baltimore.

Condor’s Story

It was fall of 2002. Condor was being hauled out just like every fall since 1985. She expected to sit out the winter in the comfort of the marina yard alongside the other boats. Little did she know that things were changing. Spring came, but her owner didn’t. He had come every spring and had sanded her bottom and put on fresh paint. The other boats’ owners came and prepared them for the season and one by one they went back in the water. But Condor sat patiently waiting for her owner to come and get her ready.

The summer came. She could feel the warm winds and hear the sounds of other owners and friends enjoying their boats on the water. She knew he would be there soon. As she waited, she thought back to the fun she had in the past 17 years. Daysailing with her owner and his co-workers, non-spinnaker club racing on Wednesday nights, and even some trips to participate in Sabre events. Those were good times when she was able to reunite with sisters and cousins. Even as she relived those memories in her mind, she realized that more of her memories were of years ago and fewer were recent.

It was late fall when he finally showed up at the yard. He checked her over, made sure that she was still winterized and left. She had spent the whole season setting on her stands and hadn’t been able to enjoy the rush of water against her hull or the warm breezes in her sails. But she still had her memories to get her through the cold winter. And she knew next year would be better. Her owner had recently retired so they would have lots more time to spend sailing.

Spring came again and she eagerly waited for her owner to come. Once again the other boats’ owners came and prepared their boats. And again, one by one they went in. At least she had a few other boats to keep her company. The old wooden ketch right in front of her had been out for many years. Her owner was completely rebuilding her. While the tent around kept her warm in the winter it also prevented her from enjoying the sun and the breezes. Condor pitied her. But at least the ketch’s owner came and spent time with her. Condor was feeling lonely.

Condor spent another whole season sitting in the yard only able to hear the sounds of summer around her. With her stern to the water and the tented wooden boat in front of her, she couldn’t even enjoy watching the other boats. Two years ago, when her owner first retired, there were a few weeks when she would bob in her slip as she watched the other boats enjoying time with their owners. A few times he came down and spent the evening just sitting there. He had commented that finding crew was getting harder since he didn’t have co-workers any more.

The seasons came and went. The sun was burning her sail cover and fading her teak. She could feel herself getting old. The sun had dried and cracked her mast boot and she could feel the rain water trickle down her mast to her bilge. At least her owner had left her battery charger plugged in so she was able to run her pump and pump the water out.

She didn’t like it, but still hoped for the best when he put a ‘for sale’ sign on her stern rail. She had seen other boats get new owners and it seemed to breathe fresh wind into them. And, she was pretty proud of the price he had listed. A few people came by and poked and prodded her. Which one would be her new owner?

One late fall storm shredded her sun damaged sail cover. The fact that he had left her sail on had always given her hope of getting back in the water. Now she was beginning to think there wasn’t hope. The shredded sail cover made her feel neglected. Then he lowered her price. She was a mark down. She had seen this before. There was a boat over at the edge of the yard that had been there as long as she could remember. That boat had been a mark down. And now it just sat there and no one ever came or looked at her. Condor was beginning to feel guilty and sorry for some of the thoughts she had about that boat.

Even though her charger was plugged in, she could feel that her batteries just didn’t have the energy they once had. The sun and neglect were making her feel old. The fitting on her deck scupper broke and the rain water ran down into her quarter berth. At least her pump could still get it out.

The sun had once been her friend, but she was beginning to resent it. Its warm rays were now burning every part of her. She used to love the cool rain pouring down on her. It cooled her deck and washed away the dirt and salt. Now she hated the rain. It found more ways to get into her bilge. It was getting harder and harder to pump it out. She could feel the rot in her quarter berth shelf from the rain water sitting on it.

How could this have happened? Her owner had ordered her after seeing one of her sisters at the boat show. He had traveled to Maine to see her being built. He had owned a smaller cousin, a Sabre 30, and wanted to bigger boat. He had taken good care of the other boat and had even found a new owner to take care of her. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be! How could he do this to her?

It was no longer a tickling trickle of rain coming in. It ran in. With each rain the batteries got weaker and finally died. She could no longer pump the water out. Now it filled and overflowed her bilge. She could feel the rot growing in her plywood subfloor. It was leaving a mark on her wood work. Who would want her now?

Another lower price and a few more people to look at her. She almost didn’t want them to come. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. One person seemed interested in her. Maybe there was hope after all. A surveyor came out to inspect her. These people must be serious! These would be the ones to take care of her and put her back into shape.

As the surveyor poked and tapped and tested, she knew he could see past her leaky ports and rotten floor. He got her pumped out and even started her engine. It felt good to have her engine run even though she knew the algae in her fuel wasn’t good for her. She coughed and sputtered until the algae clogged her fuel filter. Then her engine wheezed and died.

She couldn’t believe the report! Corrosion in her keel, engine died and would need to be replaced, rotten subfloor, leaking ports, broken deck drains. Anyone would back away from her with that report. And that is just what they did. Her potential new owner ran away from her and never looked back. She was alone again.

It had been seven years since she had felt the water on her keel and she knew now that she would never feel it again. Another lower price. Another gawker to point out all her faults. She wished they would just leave her alone. The words from the survey report were still burning – engine needs to be rebuilt/replaced, leaks on all port windows, chainplates need to be rebedded, flooring beneath the mast step is "spongy" with rot, mast/deck joint needs to be resealed to stop rainwater from entering the boat, keel needs repair, all running rigging needs replacing, hull needs faring, sanding, and repainting.

Condor was done. It was just as well that she couldn’t see the water. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. It would be better if she were in the corner of the yard where no one could see her and she wouldn’t have to see anything. Now she longed to be under the old wooden ketch’s tent. She wanted to die in peace. Even her for sale sign had gotten destroyed by the sun and had fallen into her cockpit leaving just the cable ties on her stern rail.

More people. Why can’t they just leave her alone? There was no hope left. Only a fool would want her now, especially after the surveyor had written those words. She didn’t want people looking at her keel. She didn’t want them in her cockpit. She didn’t want them poking at her floor or looking at her engine. Just leave!

Why are they back? Haven’t they seen enough? Do they need to ridicule her more? Couldn’t they see she didn’t want them? What do they mean they are her new owners? Can’t they see that she doesn’t want an owner? And the offer they had made was an insult, though inwardly she knew it was really more than she was worth at this point.

They took off what was left of her old sun damaged mainsail. They changed her fuel filters and cleaned her fuel. The pried up her floor and replaced her rotten subfloor. She had to admit that it felt kind of good to be getting some attention after all these years, but didn’t they know they were wasting their time? This time when they started her engine, it felt good; it purred the way it used to. It also felt good to have the corrosion ground out of her keel.

What probably felt the best was having her leaks stopped and her deck drains repaired. No more water running in when it rained. Now the rain could just wash away the dirt and not run into her bilge.

By the time they had buffed and waxed her topsides and sanded and oiled her teak she was beginning to feel like there may be hope. Her floor had been repaired and all her teak inside had been cleaned oiled. Her bronze seacocks had been rebuilt. Her cushions had been cleaned. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed the warmth of human touch. And then they spent the night with her. Did they really care about her? She hoped they would stay forever.

The old chunky anti-freeze had been flushed out of her Westerbeke and many of her hoses had been replaced. Now it felt really good when they ran her engine. They had replaced her cutlass bearing and had her dripless stuffing box rebuilt. They had even given her a new stainless prop shaft. She could barely wait to spin her prop in the water.

Then the day finally came. The travel lift came over and straddled her. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to be lifted off her stands. The gentle swaying in the slings heightened the anticipation of getting back in the water. The driver slowly positioned her over the water and began to lower her. What was that feeling on the tip of her keel? Water! It had been almost eight years! And now, fully lowered and floating on her own. She had almost forgotten how to float.

Her Westerbeke started and her prop spun. She was moving on her own! Freedom! Free from the stands that had held her for so long. She motored over to a dock and was tied up. It had been so long since she had seen or felt the water. This might be even better than the her original launching. Her water tanks were filled. It felt great to have water in her where it belonged rather than running though her and into her bilge.

What was this? A brand new mainsail made especially for her! So white and crisp! It even had her number and the Sabre 36 logo. Once again they started her engine. She never had any doubts about it running. Okay, she had to admit that she had had her doubts and she had once given up. But those doubts and feelings were washing away as they motored away from the dock. And now they were heading away from Solomons, the place she had called home all her life. They had even removed that from her transom and replaced it with “Baltimore, MD”.

After they motored through the channel they raised her sail. The wind filled it and it pulled her gently forward. She was sailing! Just her and the wind and her new owners. Was this real? It felt so good it had to be a dream! But it wasn’t. She was sailing to Baltimore. She was soaring! Living up to the name her original owner had given her – Condor.

We're Back!

Blogger, forgive me for I have sinned. It has been 45 days since my last blog post.

I suppose some of you may have wondered what has been happening with Condor. “Did they get overwhelmed and give up?” “Did they finish it and go sailing without telling us?” Well, the truth is that we’ve been busy. I have been busy working at the Downtown Sailing Center. Suzanne has been busy picking up the slack, working on Condor. Yes, I was able to make a few trips down to work on things, but Suzanne has been faithfully making a trip of two a week to try to chop away at our to-do list.

And, yes, we kind of did get her done and sail her away without telling you. So, I’m filling you in now. We finished the top priority tasks last Friday and Saturday. We spent our first night aboard last Friday night. Granted, she was still sitting on the hard, but we were aboard.

So, Matt had finished the sail. He was a little behind schedule because of the great blizzards of 2010. Suzanne, with a little help from the kids at various times, replaced the rotten subfloor. We got the seacocks rebuilt and finished the engine cooling system. We even rebuilt the head (and we used all the parts in the kit – no left over red parts). We’ll try to back up at some point and try to get some documentation of these project s for those interested.

The plan was to have Condor launched on Wednesday. We had noticed when we were at the boat yard on Friday/Saturday that there was a boat waiting to be hauled that did get hauled. Turns out the travel lift was broken. Lenny assured me that he would get it fixed. They put a new distributor on and it ran well, but wouldn’t hoist. What good is a travel lift that can’t pick up a boat? Yeah, I know a couple of people who wouldn’t care. They think it would be neat to have one to drive to work.

Lenny reassured me again that they would find and fix the problem. Tweaking and jury rigging the hydraulic system should allow it to hoist Condor. Sounds kinda iffy to me. But, I suppose if it can pick he up, what’s the worst that could happen? Don’t answer that!

Lenny avoided my pestering calls because he wasn’t sure of the answer he could give me. Finally, 6p.m. on Thursday evening he calls to tell me that it will work. He had hoisted another boat and would be able to hoist Condor Friday morning. Now we just had to get there. Sam had class Thursday night, but agreed to drive us down after class and drop us off so we wouldn’t have to make another trip to get the car back.

We got to the boat late Thursday night, and before settling in for our second night aboard, I decided to torque the keelboats. You may have read about the condition of the keel. Many people believed that the keel bolts had rusted away and that was the reason for the corroded spots in the lead. Much to my relief, I was only able to put about a quarter turn on the bolts. They were good and solid.

Jimmy showed up about 9:45 Friday morning – I rebuilt a winch while I was waiting. He maneuvered the hoist around and picked Condor up. The keel stayed on! A relief, but after re-torquing the keelbolts, I wasn’t really too concerned.

He lowered her into the water and we quickly jumped onboard and checked every through hull, the stuffing box and the bilge to make sure nothing was leaking. No leaks! We motored her over to the fuel dock where we could bend on the main, fill the tanks and make a few last inspections then we headed to Baltimore. But that’s another story.

And I promise I won’t make you wait 45 days to hear it.

Making a big To-Do.

We’re making a big to-do, but I can’t say it is a big to-do about nothing. Sure that has happened before. Everyone has witnessed an instance where someone has made a big commotion about something which turned out to be pretty minor.

But, this is big to-do about something. And that something is Condor. As mentioned before, we have a self-imposed deadline of March 31 to get Condor to the point where she can be launched and sailed from Solomon’s to Baltimore. The deadline is not 100% self imposed. The PO (previous owner) has paid winter storage through March 31. Being cheap, we decided that it was worth the extra push to get Condor in the water before having to pay more storage. And besides, what good is a sailboat sitting in a yard. We want to get her out and sail!

So, we made a big to-do. And a big to-do it is. Close to 40 things. If you haven’t realized, we’re talking about a to-do list. Close to forty items on Condor’s to-do list. Rather, our to-do list for Condor. In a sense, making this big to-do should really help, though at times looking through it can be overwhelming. Suzanne thinks it should help keep me focused. ADD, you know. All too often, she has to call me back to task because I have found some other issue that requires my attention. For instance, while rebedding the deck plate for the water fill, we had to move the whisker pole. She commented that the spring loaded jaw for the pole wasn’t moving freely. Steve to the rescue! I ran and got some lube and spent fifteen minutes getting it moving while Suzanne stood, glaring at me, holding the deck fitting and waiting for me to apply the caulk. She had to remind me that rebedding the deck plate was on the list and freeing the jaw of the whisker pole could be added to the list – after we finish the deck plate.

It should be pointed out, for those of you with little firsthand experience, that ADD is not the inability to pay attention. Rather it is the ability to pay attention to many things. All too often, those of us who benefit from the effects of ADD are called abruptly back to the task that someone else thinks is more important than the many things we’re focusing on. And so, Suzanne calls me back to her deck plate and we complete that task. By the way, the whisker pole jaw works perfectly now.

Armed with our list, we head to Condor. Please remember that she is about a two hour drive away. With our massive list we jump to work. But where do we start? Time to back up again and prioritize our list. This shouldn’t be too hard. We read through each item and quickly decide if it has to be done before launching. For example, apply bottom paint. That generally works much better if the boat is on stands in the boatyard rather than in the water. So bottom painting is a ‘1’ job. Not all tasks are so easily decided. Rebuild and lubricate the winches. Okay, the winches, all eight of them, function, though not as smoothly as we would like. So rebuilding winches is a “2” job. But have you ever disassembled a winch while the boat is in the water? There is always that one spring that likes to jump overboard. Much safer (read ‘cheaper’) to do while the boat is on the hard. Maybe this should be classified as a “1-2”, meaning it would ideally be done before launch, but can wait.

I mentioned the benefits of ADD. In all truthfulness, I’m still looking for them. So if any of you can offer ideas as to the benefits of ADD, please do.

So, the list? In no particular order:
Fair keel
Sand bottom
Paint bottom
Replace cutlass bearing
Buff/wax topsides
Overhaul seacocks
Rebed chainplates
Replace halyards
Tighten toe-rail bolts
Clean/rebuild winches
Replace rotten cabin subfloor
Clean water tanks
Replace water system filter
Sand/bleach cabin sole
Replace engine zinc
Replace impellor
Replace engine coolant hoses
Finish cabin sole
Lubricate spinnaker and whisker pole ends
Replace all other running rigging
Install radio
Replace Loran
Replace gunwale scuppers
Rebuild manual bilge pump
Replace float switch for auto-bilge pump
Replace batteries
Rebuild quarter berth shelf
Refit doors and drawers
Reattach trim at companionway
Make mainsail cover
Purchase mainsail
Clean fuel tank
Replace prop zinc
Replace fire extinguishers
Replace flares
Replace PFD’s
Replace rotten wood in anchor locker
Clean/replace anchor rode
Replace scupper in anchor locker
Replace fixed ports
Install opening port in quarter berth
Clean and oil interior
Replace stern lettering and hailing port
Check all nav lights
Install bimini

And there you have it. At least until our next visit when I find more stuff that needs to be completed right away and Suzanne gently reminds me to add it to the list.

Making it fair

It’s not fair! Boy, how often do we hear that? Parents hear it all the time. “Why do I have to do my school work when Isaac does't have to go to school? Why don’t I get snow days? It’s not fair!” This is heard frequently in our home where Anna is homeschooled and Isaac goes to public school. She has a point. It isn’t fair. It also isn’t fair that she only spends a couple hours a day doing school work and Isaac has to spend all day, and then has homework. It isn’t fair.

Nobody said that life is fair. But that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about keels. Some keels are fair, some aren’t. Condor’s isn’t. Or wasn’t. I don’t know if it has always been that way. I really kind of doubt it. In fact, I’m sure it wasn’t that way when she came out of the Sabre factory in 1985. Obviously, her keel was attempted to be made fair, but there were imperfections that they tried to hide. But something else had happened.

Condor’s keel had been neglected. Several layers of peeling bottom paint attempted to cover her not so fair keel. Apparently, high copper content bottom paint applied director to lead can cause galvanic corrosion. Some of these areas looked like blisters with chalky, crumbly material left inside. What exactly it is and how it got there is a bit of a mystery. But there is one thing that is clear. It isn’t fair to leave it unfair.

If you’re wondering what I mean by fair, let’s take a look at it. Fair (‘fer) from the Middle English fager. Does that help? Yeah, I didn’t think so. So how about, fair, as in “he inherited a fair estate”-ample, large. Well, Condor’s keel does hang down to 6’4” below the water. While you could call that ample keel, I don’t think that’s fair. Or at least it’s not the fair that I’m talking about.

Fair, as in impartial? I will be the first to tell you that Condor is about as impartial as one can be. She seems to treat all equally. Well, except that surveyor she didn’t like. Apparently he said something unkind so she wouldn’t let him hear her Westerbeke purr. Again, this isn’t the fair I’m discussing. While her gelcoat is bright white, fair, as in fair skin, isn’t it either.

So, how about this? "Pleasing to the eye or mind especially because of fresh, charming, or flawless quality." Hmm. Seems right. Condor’s keel was not of flawless quality. And it isn’t fair to leave it that way.

So the work began. And a fair amount of work it was. Tool number one: our trusty Paint Shaver. In this case, it would be renamed Paint, Lead, and various other garbage Shaver. This trusty tool is basically an electric 4” grinder with a cutter head attached. The cutter head holds three carbide triangles that scrape the surface as it rotates, sending paint, lead, or whatever else flying. Okay, we’re not so environmentally irresponsible as to allow lead and copper paint to freely do their damage. The Paint Shaver has a hood that doesn’t allow the particles to escape except through a 1-1/4” hole. And guarding that hole is a hose leading directly into our HEPA lead vacuum. This is tool number two. It is probably worth pointing out that Suzanne got herself certified as a lead paint removal contractor and thus, she make sure things are correctly.

Why would she do such a thing? Some of you may recall that we live in a restored (mostly) 1860’s farm house. The house was covered in multiple layers of heavy lead paint, and then wrapped in asbestos. Lead paint inside and out. Have you priced the removal of lead paint? It was cheaper for Suzanne to become a lead paint removal contractor and remove the lead paint ourselves. Hence the Paint Shaver and lead vacuum. And who knows how many pounds of lead paint were removed from the inside and outside of the house.

Okay, so donned in gloves, lead dust approved respirator, goggles, and ear protection, she went to work. The idea was to get the surface somewhat leveled out. The Paint Shaver quickly ate through the paint and high spots of the lead. A little sanding finished things up and got into the depressions. These depressions are the imperfections in the keel. Not the depressions that come from dealing with lots of snow (with more in the forecast) and a deadline for completing work on Condor fast approaching. Those depressions are best treated with something other than an orbital sander.

Then came the fun part troweling on the filler. We used an epoxy filler and trowled it out. First vertical, then horizontal, then diagonally. Once cured, ridges are sanded off with the orbital sander. More filler with a wide trowel. Then sanding with a longboard just the way the material was applied – vertical, horizontal, diagonal. A longboard is a long board that sandpaper sticks to. It keeps you from making low spots as you sand. This longboard has nothing to do with surfing. Well, that is unless you were using it to fair the bottom of a planning dinghy.

I don’t know if it’s fair. Fair to Suzanne to do all this work? Fair to have to do this work to Condor? Fair to have let Condor get into this condition? Fair to have to do school work while Isaac has a snow day?

But, it is safe to say that Condor’s keel is fair. And not just the kind of okay fair.

Valentine’s Day

I’m torn. Not literally, but figuratively. Being literally torn would probably be accompanied by a great deal of pain. While I am enduring a small amount of pain in the way of sore muscles from skiing, I’m certainly not torn. Actually, thinking back a great number of years to microbiology and anatomy and physiology, I may be, in fact, torn. Isn’t muscle pain primarily the result of small tears in the muscle fibers? Okay, so I’m literally torn a little bit, but more so, figuratively.

You may ask, why am I torn? As I mentioned, Suzanne and I are New Jersey for a romantic ski weekend. And while I am greatly enjoying the time away, I’m also contemplating the list of required work for Condor. And now you may ask, why am I contemplating the list of required work for Condor when I should be enjoying the time away with my wife. Well, that’s an easy one. Since Suzanne was 100% behind the idea of buying Condor, it’s a joint project. Since it’s a joint project, it makes sense that when we’re together, Condor should be part of the thoughts and conversations. Plus, I was told I’m not allowed to think about that nasty, four-letter word this weekend. That’s right, the “w” word – work.

So, in between trips to the mountain, I think about all that needs to be done. With a somewhat self imposed deadline of March 31, we’re quickly running out of time. And the two blizzards this year haven’t helped. Yesterday, I heard some mention the three blizzards this year. I was able to restrain myself and not correct them. I see that it might be easy to think that we’ve had three blizzards this year. If you think back (and possibly look at a calendar), you’ll discover that our “first” blizzard this season was actually in December, and therefore, it was the last blizzard of last year. So, we’ve only had two blizzards this year.

But these blizzards and cold temperatures aren’t helping the cause. Condor sits patently waiting for the care she has been promised. Perhaps the kids could take notice of her patience and learn by her example. “When’s dinner?” “In a little while. I’ve got to take care of the chickens first.” “I’m hungry. Why isn’t it ready yet?” “Because I had to clean up your laundry and clean the cat boxes first.” Okay, I admit, this was actually a conversation between Suzanne and I, but it just as easily could have been between one of the kids and Suzanne.

Because I can’t be working on Condor, as she waits patiently, I’m writing this entry in the blog. This answers the question, why are you making another entry in the blog, if you haven’t done any more work? I know how you guys think. I had one reader pose a similar question. I use the term “reader” rather loosely. If a person who, while driving along the highway, reads a billboard, one might label them as a billboard reader. You are reading this and thus, I label you a reader.

And so, this reader asked, “Why did you make a blog for a single boat? Why not just a general blog for all your boats, or all your experiences? You will now be limited to talking about one boat in particular. What happens when you start working on another boat?” This reader (and the four of you will have to argue over which of you this was) has a good point. We have, in fact, restored over thirty boats in the past 15 years. But why would this blog not be able to relate some of those experiences?

Another reader asked if Condor brings the number of currently owned boats to a even half a dozen. I find I am torn with this question. Not only am I amazed that I have more than one reader, but that this person would think that I am a hoarder of boats. Of course we don’t have six boats! We only have five. We sold a Laser and the skiff. My 1975 pea-green Laser isn’t a project anymore. She’s solid and light and has upgraded rigging. I just need time to sail her.

As I sit here, torn, but ready to go back to the mountain to tear up the snow, I think about all the work on Condor that is not getting done. I think about Condor waiting patiently. Perhaps I’ll send her a Valentine’s Day card.

Condor’s new clothes

As I mentioned in a previous post, Condor’s mainsail was toast. Okay, it wasn’t actually toast, as toast might be something useful. While it had no holes, it was badly UV damaged and very stained with mildew and mold. When the finger test was applied, its weakness was exposed. More accurately, my finger was exposed as it easily punctured through the cloth.

So, picture this: Condor clothed in a bright, white garment, crisp and almost blinding. Brand new and freshly put on today! Untouched by human hands. Isn’t it beautiful? Not really. Actually, I’m quite sick of it. We’ve had almost 4’ of this garbage in the past few days. My back is aching from the little bit of clearing I’ve done around here. Now I have to shovel the white death off poor Condor.

Back on point. Condor’s mainsail is shot. I was hoping that it might be salvageable, but alas, it is not. Being cheap, yes, cheap as anyone who knows me will confirm, I’ll strip the battens, and slugs off the sail and donate it to Seabags or Ella Vickers. In return, they’ll give me a nice bag. Not that I need another bag. I think we’ve accumulated about a dozen various totes and duffels. The last duffel I got from Ella is so huge, it can’t be moved when filled.

Wow, it is so easy to wander off point. I suppose it’s the ADD. So, I’ve got to come up with a new main. The jib and Genoa are both in great shape. The PO only club raced the boat and I don’t think he did that often. He always raced non-spin, so the spinnaker is virtually untouched. I think he said he hoisted it once.

You would think that being cheap, I would go to Bacon’s and find something that would fit. Well, the thought did cross my mind. Nothing was close that was any good. I can’t see paying a grand for a used sail then paying to have it recut to fit. So, my desire for quality and performance choked my cheapness and prevailed. So a new mainsail it would be.

Have you ever had to choose a manufacturer for a new sail? There are, what, about 75 sail manufacturers out there now? And everyone you talk to says to use their guy because all the others are worthless. But then the cheapness reared its beautiful head (you thought I was going to say “ugly head”. But no, I think cheap is beautiful. Sailrite! Yeah, that’s the answer. I can buy a kit for $1200 and come out with a brand new sail. I’m sure I can handle building the sail. After all, I’ve been repairing and rebuilding sails for years. The DSC has the great old singer from 1930. With the DC repower, it has no problem punching through multiple layers of cloth. Hmm, but with no reverse, it is kind of a pain to use.

Scott! He’s the answer to the machine. He’s got a Sailrite machine. It actually has reverse. And thinking about it, Scott built a main and a Genoa from Sailrite kite. If he can do it, certainly, I can.

So, I’ll order the kit and spread it out . . .Where? The garage attic, while it would make a great 24X36 sail loft, it’s a little packed full of stuff and it’s rather cold these days. Hmm. Maybe this kit isn’t such a good idea. Besides, when would I have the time?

Okay, back to sorting through sail manufactures. I can pay top dollar to have the sail maker come take measurements and build the sail, then test fit it. There are a bunch in the area. But, while I want the performance, I’m probably not going to do a lot of racing. So, most of these guys have a cruise branch that builds the sail to specs in a third world country. That would be cheaper.

A couple of on-line quote forms later, and I’m looking at spending at least $2500. Oh, there were those guys in FL that would build it for $2k. But wait, I’m missing something. Rather someone. Who’s that guy I’ve been stringing along about building Sonar and Impulse sails for the DSC? Ah, yes, Matt. Clarification – I’m cheap, but not a jerk. Okay, I admit, I am, at times, a jerk. I haven’t really been stringing Matt along. I seriously want to have him build sails for the DSC. I just can’t come up with the money to get it done. He made me a really good offer, and he’d build exactly what I want.

So, I contacted Matt for a quote. His quote was closer to the $2500. Being cheap, I had to ask if he would meet the $2k FL quote. Lo and behold, he said he would! Great! The best of both worlds – lower cost and he’s local (well, somewhat). And better yet, he’s going to measure Condor and make sure they fit. So, Matt, the check is in the mail (it really is, folks). I can hardly wait.

So what are Condor’s new clothes going to be? Hopefully, not like the Emperor’s. You all remember the story? The guy wants new clothes, but the sail makers, oops, I mean weavers pull a fast one and after spending his money, he ends up with nothing but is too dim (and prideful) to realize it. Wait! Are you trying to say that I’m shallow and pretentious? This is my story and I inflict my own doubts and worries. (Seriously, I have no worry or concern about the quality of sail that Matt’s building for me.)

I sent him the specs for the sail. How did I get them you ask? Well, I do have the old sail to spread out and measure. And, this is, after all, a Sabre. Condor’s owner manual, though 25 years old was filled with almost every detail needed to build her. And, this includes the specs for her sail including set-backs, set-ups, off-sets and other sailmakerly things.

My cheapness gets the better of me and I decide we’ll build the mainsail cover. Matt says it makes sense for me to do it.

So, picture this: Condor clothed in a bright, white garment, crisp and almost blinding. Brand new and freshly put on today! Isn’t it beautiful? No! Not snow! A beautiful new mainsail! I can hardly wait!

She Bangs!

She bangs! She bangs! She moves! She moves! The Ricky Martin tune resonates through my brain. I think the words even escape through my grinning lips. Suzanne interrupts my glorious moment, "You know when you say it that way, it doesn't sound like a good thing." Okay, so the words aren’t the best. But can I still do my happy dance? She concedes and lets me express some of my jubilance.

Condor's Westrerbeke 27 had been declared dead by a marine surveyor. That's a fairly large engine to remove from a sailboat sitting on the hard. 434lbs dry. Not like the little Yanmar 1gm that Sam hauled out of the J29 by himself. This was a real engine. Four cylinders; fresh water cooled. With the halyards deteriorated by 25 years in the sun, we weren’t easily going to lift this beast out.

The previous owner told us that the surveyor had said it ran for a little while and died. Hmm. What exactly does that mean? He wasn't able to offer any more insight. He did say that he had never had any trouble with it. He even topped up the tank when he put her away for the winter.

Okay, so she ran a little. That means she was at least getting some fuel and must have had some compression. But why would she die? Well, this was going to take some investigation. And besides, if Sam was going to work on her, he’d probably have to do it in the boat.

She cranks! She cranks! Okay, doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? But the broker had said she cranks, and the surveyor said she ran and died. So she’s not seized. Next step is to get some batteries there and see what’s going on.

I’m not an idiot, though at times it takes some work to convince others of that fact. I wasn’t going to crank the engine with who knows what for oil. We took our handy vacuum oil changer and went to suck the oil out. Westerbeke added this neat hose to the bottom of the oil pan which when attached to my handy vacuum oil changer thing, allows all the oil to get sucked out. Yeah, kinda black, but not too uncommon for old diesels. Four quarts of fresh oil back in.

Now on to the fuel. It ran, then died. That sounds familiar. Flashback to the Pony days. Pony Express was our 1984 Express 30. Great boat that left many fond memories. Among the favorites was the trip with Scott to the start of the Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race. I knew that Pony had developed some scum in her diesel tank. And I knew the best way to get it out was to take the tank out and clean it. But what’s the rush? And being cheap, I couldn’t just waste the good fuel. So, the plan was to run her almost out of fuel, then pull her for the season and remove the tank. Scott’s plan was to go watch the start of the schooner race – on my boat. We headed from Middle River down the bay under sail. With the wind from the north, we hoisted the spinnaker and sailed to the rendezvous just south of the bay bridge. With the schooners congregating there, we dropped the sails and motored around them. This was the year of the no breeze start. And how exciting it was! After the start, schooners dropped anchor to keep from being pushed north by the current. Crew abandoned ship for a swim rather sitting around with nothing to do.
We motored around them, careful to keep out of their way. After all, they were racing, even though they weren’t moving. The excitement was killing us and we decided we had seen enough of the non-race, so we started making our way toward the bridge. The engine surged a little then sputtered. I knew in an instant that I had found the sludge in the tank I had been looking for. I shut the engine down and we drifted. A tiny breeze from the south registered about 1 knot on the anemometer. The current was pushing us north at about one quarter knot. We quickly hoisted the quarter ounce spinnaker with the 3/16” light air sheets. The previous owner had called this the “deli wrap” chute because it was so light. But we were moving and out of the way of the schooners. At this rate, we would make it back to middle river by noon the following day. Fine by me, but Scott needed to get to work. Hmm. I seem to be digressing again. To wrap up this little mise-en-abyme, the wind clocked and built, bringing rain and a breeze up to twenty knots. We made it back to the slip and docked under sail. I pulled the tank a few days later and cleaned the sludge.

This little meander down memory lane was brought to you by a clogged fuel filter. Sailboaters (I can’t speak for powerboaters) have this wonderful habit installing a 2 micron filter in the primary filter. Think about it, if it is primary why do we put the finest filter in there? Anyway, it would make sense that Condor’s primary filter was clogged. After sitting for over six years, allowing all the wonderful flora and fauna to grow in the fertile fuel, it wouldn’t take much to clog a two micron filter.

And into the filter we dove (not literally, or course). It was black as night. We removed the filter element, bowl and separator. It took some work, but we were able to remove the black scum that had been deposited. With a West Marine just down the road, we were able to get a new element for it. And, of course, being sailboaters, we opted for the 2 micron.

Westerbeke has all kinds of neat features including an electric fuel pump which makes the system self-bleeding. A few seconds of the ignition switch being on and the system is filled with nice clean fuel. The Westerbeke manual recommends 20 seconds of preheat from the glow plugs for the 38 degree air temperature. A little prayer, a cross of the fingers, and a push of the start button and Condor’s Westerbeke whirs. A sputter. Five seconds more of the glow plugs, and another push of the starter button. She bangs! More precisely, she purrs. The old Westerbeke purrs like a kitten. She responds to the throttle with no hesitation. No cloud of smoke. No strange noises.

Incredible! There’s $9k we won’t be spending! And the Happy Dance! She bangs! But in a good way.