Photos by Bill Monticone
Mention boat ownership to almost
anybody and you’re almost certain to be bombarded with platitudes
about the constant cost and/or drudgery of maintenance. A few
examples:
- B.O.A.T. stands for “bring out another thousand!”
- Boating is grand. And then another grand. And then another…
- A boat is a hole in the water into which the owner pours money!
- The two happiest days in a boat owner’s life are the day he buys the boat and the day he sells it!
- “Sailing,” according to The Sailor’s Dictionary, “is the art of getting wet and becoming ill while going nowhere very slowly at great expense.”
- Before buying a boat you should stand in a cold shower with all your clothes on, tearing up $100 bills!
So why bother, you
might ask. I guess it’s because when we think of our boats, we
tend to dwell more on those rare few isolated moments when we’re
out underway and everything is as it’s supposed to be. The weather
is balmy and clear. There’s just the right amount of wind and from
the right direction at that. The engine starts when you need it to
and purrs like a well-fed kitten. All systems are working perfectly.
The bilge is dry and free of flammable/explosive substances. All of
your passengers are in good health and spirits (or, perhaps better
yet, you’re single-handing).
If we were honest
about it, those moments may only exist in our dreams, but it’s
thinking of them that loosens our grip on our wallets (and reality).
For most of us,
the major hassle and expense falls in the spring when it’s time to
go to the boat yard to haul the boat ashore to prepare it for another
season of mostly sitting idly at an expensive dock slip oxidizing the
paint, blistering the varnish and cultivating a healthy garden of
marine growth on the bottom.
What the typical
wealthy yacht owner does is to take his boat (or have Jeeves take it)
to a nearby yacht yard where it is handed over to a professional
staff of highly paid specialists who clean, sand, prep and paint
everything before returning the vessel to its owner along with a
staggering bill. Very expensive.
The rest of us
always seek out “Do-it-yourself” yards which are also very
expensive but allow you to do grueling, filthy, back-breaking work on
your boat while exposing your lungs, skin, eyes and ears to highly
toxic dust, fumes and liquids in hopes of saving a few bucks. This
seems to be just another illusion with which we poor boaters delude
ourselves.
After a long
winter of basically indoor weather, I was feeling the need last week
to have one of those spiritually uplifting boating experiences. The
forecast looked not-so-bad for sailing across the sound on Thursday,
hunkering down for a rainy blow on Friday and then punching back
across on Saturday.
Then, as Thursday
approached, the extended forecast began to go south on me so I
decided to give up my cruise in exchange for a long, leisurely day
sail. I packed some sandwiches and invited my friend Bill along.
Although the
weather was pleasant enough, the experience was disappointing. On
starting the engine, I discovered a dead battery – not a big deal
since there are three others in the system, but enough to create some
doubt about the condition of the others. Would there be enough juice
to fire up the diesel when it came time to drop the sails?
Then we cast off
the lines and put her in gear. The boat oozed out of her slip at
about half her usual speed, a clear indication that the propeller was
fouled with barnacles. When we put up the sails and stopped the
motor, the boat’s continued sluggishness confirmed what we’d
already suspected: that the hull itself was badly fouled.
On the bright
side, a pod of dolphins decided to tag along and they hung around
with us for three solid hours which I believe must be some
sort of record, due no doubt to our slow pace. The engine started
when needed and we finally called it a day. But as soon as I got
home, I went online and ordered a battery and telephoned a boat yard
to arrange a Monday morning haul-out. I had, after all,
skipped last year’s haul-out by diving under the boat and scraping
the hull a couple of times during the summer.
The forecast
looked promising for sailing (O.K. motor-sailing) down to
Beaufort on Saturday, but even so, I donned a wet suit Friday morning
and gave the prop and waterline a quick cleaning. I’d decided to
try a boatyard I’d never been to before, Ted and Todd’s, partly
because it was down wind and partly because it had been highly
recommended to me for years by boating friends who were regulars of
theirs.
As usual , Bill
was up for it so we laid in provisions and headed out Saturday
morning at first light. The hull and prop cleaning had made enough
of a difference that we soon realized we could make Beaufort before
dark, but rather than spend all day Sunday in the industrial side of
town, we opted for dropping the hook in a beautiful wooded anchorage
in Back Creek at about 3 p.m.
On Sunday morning
we had the kind of breakfast that makes cruising such a pleasure: hot
coffee, orange juice, mixed fruit, eggs, country ham and English
muffins as we watched the fog lift in the sunrise. A bald eagle flew
over. We sat for a while in total silence, appreciating the fact
that, peaceful and quiet as Ocracoke is, if you just shut up and
listen for a minute there’s always sound. Someone’s heat pump,
traffic on the road, a barking dog. Even the surf.
We motored down
the waterway and arrived at the boat yard well before noon, tying
alongside a commercial fishing boat at the yard’s service pier. We
had an interesting chat with Kevin, a crew member staying aboard
while the captain took some shore leave. He told us a bit about life
200 miles out long lining for swordfish in the previous week’s icy
weather. No thanks!
Monday morning we
met Ted, the owner, and his father Gary as the yard crew began
showing up at around 7:30. This is a no-nonsense commercial yard.
Although there were a few sailboats, mostly under 40 feet, they were
vastly outnumbered by large trawlers. Sitting high and dry on the
yard’s marine railway was an enormous steel commercial fishing boat
which was about half-way constructed. A busy welding crew worked on
it the entire time we were in the yard.
We backed my
schooner into the slipway and disconnected the backstay to allow
clearance for the travel lift. Ted operated the lift and out she
came. A friendly chap named Milt did a superior job pressure washing
the hull and scraping the barnacles (all included in the very
reasonable price of the haulout). The schooner was lowered onto
large wooden blocks and supported with prop stands. By eleven
o’clock the boat was dry enough to paint. I ordered new
sacrificial zincs which Gary picked up for me at the local supply
house. These were attached to the propeller shaft and rudder
gudgeons to protect them from electrolysis.
Bill replaced the
zincs while I applied the copper antifouling paint to the schooner’s
bottom with a roller. The boat was lowered back into the water at a
quarter past two and we were on our way! That was undoubtedly the
shortest time I’ve ever taken on a haul out. We had time to visit
the Morehead City yacht basin to take on fuel and motor the 15 miles
to our anchorage in Back Creek before sunset.
On Tuesday we were
once again away at dawn for a long slog into a cold NE breeze and a
nasty chop on the Neuse River and Pamlico Sound. But with the chart
plotter and auto pilot (to say nothing of a smooth, freshly-painted
hull) things could have been a lot worse. We arrived home at 2:30,
now loyal converts to Ted & Todd’s fantastic boatyard.
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