The Re-rig, Episode 2:
In which a rower gets shat on, Roger throws a tantrum, a painter says, “Don’t paint”, a demonic child is exorcised, a secret clue is discovered, and a skipper gets high.
Joe and I. I just couldn’t operate my camera well enough to get him smiling.
This was always going to be a big job but could no longer be avoided. A couple of the local Seabreeze Forum guys recommended Joe Walsh at Woolwich as a good and less expensive rigger. I had a chat to him about what I needed done and he seemed like a down-to-earth guy so I headed down the harbour to drop the boat off. [If you don't read to the end of the post, I was pretty happy with Joe and his team]
Feet up, motoring to Woolwich
A few days later I picked the now mastless Bob up and motored back. I was quite surprised how good a mastless yacht looks. It looks like one of those super-fast power boats… until you hit the 6 knot hull speed limit.
I was planning to do a lot of internal work on Bob while the mast was off – rewiring and that sort of thing. I was under the false impression that without the weight aloft (well, without any aloft at all) she would rock a lot less on her mooring. Well, I was completely wrong; the rolling was attrocious! Every small and large wave made her pitch and roll like she was a roller coaster ride. “Tickets! Get your tickets! Craziest ride on the harbour! Only several thousand dollars a ride!”
What a load of shit!
The other thing I hadn’t expected was how effective rigging is for dissuading gulls from living on deck. The following pictures show what I came back to after maybe a week. Time to drag out all that annoying netting the previous owner had stashed below. Additionally, there are some gulls nesting on a couple of neglected boats near us and they’ve been dive bombing us and screeching as we row the tender to Bob.
Roger’s dodgy dodger
The other week when rowing out, I saw one ‘protective’ (read ‘aggressive’) gull heading straight for me at about 6 feet off the water. At the last moment he swooped upward and dropped a bomb of white poo right on me. Since reading Jonathan Livingstone Seagull as a teenager I have loved gulls. I have envied their flying abilities and dismissed anyone who says they’re annoying, picnic-ruining scabs. I now regard them as arseholes with wings. I’m considering buying a slingshot.
Learning to paint; boom!
Before dropping the boat off to Joe I took the boom home so I could get my painting technique down before starting on the mast. The plan was to sand them back and repaint with a 2-pack paint for a shiny, glossy, white finish. I sanded the boom back, treated it with an acid-based metal prep gel, then undercoated it. I then sanded and undercoated again to get a smoother surface. That wasn’t quite right so I sanded and undercoated again.
Okay. Time for the 2-pack. Here’s where I discovered how difficult 2-pack paint is. It’s really meant to be sprayed on. That requires special equipment and is dangerous, so brushing was the next best option. I just couldn’t get it quite right. I think I did three coats by the end. Rather than get better at it I think I got worse.
At the time of the final attempt I was incredibly stressed about a number of things I had going on in my life and, when I stuffed up the painting again, became enraged and ended up smashing the damned boom with the brush, destroying it and throwing hairs all over the paintwork, although ‘paintwork’ is a very generous term in this case. I just had to take a photo of the very worst area. I’ve discovered that painting does not come naturally to me. My main problem is trying to get too much paint on at once so that it sags. I blame the kindergarten staff who never let me do finger painting with my toes like some of the other kids got to do. I think I might get better results using my feet.
Choose your poison
Meanwhile, at the boatyard, I was busy sanding back the mast. Joe let me use his sander and paper and gave free advice; that’s my kind of boatyard. I was fairly aggressive with the sanding, going back to bare metal quite a bit. When Joe’s painter, Gus, came past we got into a conversation about what I was doing. He asked me why I wanted to paint it. I was taken aback. What other options were there? “If it were my boat I’d take it back to bare aluminium and treat it.” He explained that once corrosion begins, the paint bubbles and holds moisture in, looks ugly, and needs repainting.
Gus worked for 30 years painting cars so he knows a thing or two about it. Imagine the rigger’s painter convincing me not to paint, doing himself out of a job! He showed me yachts with bare masts and I could see that they didn’t look too bad. Additionally, I wouldn’t have to purchase all that expensive paint, spend many, many hours on the job, or learn to paint with my toes. I was sold!
So I sanded the mast back to bare aluminium using the technique Gus showed me for getting a nice straight pattern. I suppose you could redo it using finer and finer grades of sandpaper to get a super smooth finish, but it’s a lot of work and I quite like the end result; it looks so much better than a worn paint job.
When all the corrosion had been removed from all holes where fittings had been and from the inside of the base of the mast, and the entire 12m x 0.5 m mast had been sanded back, Gus treated it with a metal sealant. This is poisonous stuff, not for sale in NSW, so I was happy for him to apply it.
Gus treating my mast with poison
Poison #219 (metal sealer)
Lights at the end of a tunnel
New anchor light and VHF aerial
Of course, with the mast down it was a no-brainer to have the anchor light, steaming, and deck lights replaced with new LED units. Our old anchor light never worked so I would have to leave the deck lights on. I do think deck lights are probably more effective in most situations I find myself in; however, a working anchor light is a legal requirement so I could be found negligent without one (despite the fact that they can be mistaken for background lights on a calm night in Sydney Harbour).
New steaming and deck light unit
All these lights are supplied with new wire which leads me to highlight the BEST part of all this re-rigging. Okay, I take your point – not having the mast fall down is obviously the best part but besides that. We installed a length of conduit inside the mast to hold the wires and coax; NO MORE CLANGING NIGHTS!!!
If you’ve never slept on a boat with loose cables inside a deck-stepped mast I’ll help you; imagine you are a tiny person lying in an amplifier box which is attached to a metal cylinder – think tubular bells or wind chimes. Imagine a gigantic, demonic, child insomniac with a bad caffeine habit is striking just one note repeatedly and incessantly. This child demon has a rough idea that rhythm exists, so approximates it, but he likes to change it just when you’re dropping off to sleep. Hallelujah conduit the maritime exorcist! Praise the Lord for PVC extrusions!
Time to step up
Old deck plate
At some point soon after the rig came down I set about the task of removing the compression post which sits underneath the mast so I could take it home and repaint it. The compression post sits on a block of hardwood on a metal grid at the base of the hull above the keel, and is bolted to the mast plate with the deck sandwiched between the two.
I noticed a small fracture line on one of the corners of the mast plate. When I turned the bolt on that corner the metal cracked right through like a Chocolate Digestive at afternoon tea time. Bad news. The metal looked compromised right through; like when you dunk your biscuit for that fraction too long and it flops into your lap before you can get it to your mouth. Joe confirmed that it belonged in the junk heap and an alternative should be sought.
The spar company that made the mast no longer exists (Joe actually used to work for them at about the time Bob was built). As no suitable alternative could be found and a new one would cost a bomb, Joe had one fashioned from a small section of a larger mast, welded to a couple of thicknesses of stainless steel plate, holes drilled and countersunk, then powder coated.
I think it turned out nicely, especially considering the price.
Whilst the mast was down it was time to pull out the compression post and tend to that. I pulled it out, brought it home, sanded it back, ground off any rusty spots, and repainted it a lovely blue to match the decor. I don’t have a photo of that but trust me, it looks nice. Why? Because I used enamel rather than the evil 2-pack.
I discovered an interesting thing while doing this job. Someone has written a name on the bare compression post. I assume that this is the name of the original owner who had this post manufactured. So, if your name is “D Rothweil” or similar and you once owned an Adams 31, drop us a line – we’d love to hear from you.
Gosh, I’m exhausted just thinking about all the work involved in this project! Em was down for the count with a torn tendon so I was all on my lonesome with this one. Anyway, once everything was done Joe, Sam and the others put the stick back up. All shiny, new leather ends on the spreaders, new halyards, reconditioned furler, etc – a full re-rig. Many thanks to Joe and his team.
You may notice in the photo above that we now have steps all the way to the top of the mast. Joe actually chose to manufacture some old style steps for the first section to replace a few that fell apart; that way he would be able to reuse the existing holes rather than drill new holes and risk compromising the strength of the mast.
I had these installed so that I can do my own work aloft. Sure, you can get someone to winch you to the top of the mast, but personally I prefer the idea of climbing than dangling. So here we have it; the climax of the re-rig – the skipper getting high…