Kai O'hana
05/29/07 - May Haulout
-A word from Captain Bach
Once the forward chainplates had been installed on the water, we knew that we would have to pull the boat out of the water to attach the aft chainplates. They were just too close to the waterline to safely get any tools that low so we would have to haul her out once again. I wasn't too disappointed as we were going to have to eventually do something to the bottom paint that had washed away at the water line anyway so now was as good a time as any to handle all our out-of-the-water projects.
I negotiated with the owner of the boatyard to get the same price to haul her and put her back in the water as I had paid the year before (in dollars as opposed to Euros), and that I would pay the same daily rate on the hard as I paid on the seawall. But for some reason (that wasn't totally unexpected), he told me that if we weren't back in the water in less than a week, he'd triple our storage rate, which made no sense because the yard was less than half full -- a condition totally attributable to his lack of business etiquette and charm, I'm sure.
Preparing the boat for the maiden voyage to the Travel Lift slip was a big deal since the boat had not moved under her own power in at least four years. Chad spent days tinkering with all the systems for the journey of 100 yards, but things were going so well once we got off the seawall that we decided to take her a half mile south to the turning basin off the French draw bridge. After completing a 5 point u-turn, we made our way back to the slip and backed into it, dropping the anchor first to control the bow in the building Westerlies.
Though I've never gained any comfort with my boat swinging up in the air on a Travel Lift, the event happened flawlessly. I've always had complete confidence in the yardbirds, and as long as you are patient and not screaming and yelling, they will do whatever you want as long as it is possible. For example, I asked them if they would put the straps outside of the chainwales because I was afraid the force would crush the frames supporting them. Though it was very difficult to pull the straps around them as they were being lifted and tightened, they were persistent and all went according to plan and with minimal damage to the paint.
Once the keel was resting on blocks and the stands had been set under the hull, we jumped on the projects immediately considering we only had a week on the hard and plenty of projects to fill that week. But as we've learned with boats, the projects multiply like rabbits once you start start taking a closer look at everything. So we weren't too surprised when our friend and boat guru, Lindsay came around and looked at our prop shaft, jiggled it up and down a bit and said, "I'd replace that cutlass bearing before she goes back in the water." That was absolutely the last last thing I wanted to hear other than "I'm sorry sir, we've discovered what's ailing you is the eboli virus and you have exactly two hours to live." As usual, my first instinct was to ignore him and hope that the prop shaft would miraculously tightened itself overnight, but it didn't. Then the next day, while still in complete denial, our friend and St. Martin legend, Captain Crunch (Doug) from Sindbad came for a visit and jiggled the prop shaft up and down a bit and said, "I'd replace that cutlass bearing before she goes back in the water." and added, "It shouldn't be that difficult or take too much time."
Aaagghhh! Now I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. He offered to help, and said we could use his puller. I asked him if this was going to be like every other "simple and quick boat project" that turns out to be a complete train wreck once the thing has been dismantled that takes months to put back together if it ever goes back right at all. He said he thought it could be done relatively smoothly and I have to say, he was absolutely right. Within a few days, and with his expert guidance, we had the old one out and to a fabricator who made a new one (Doug handled all of that for us) and back in without one problem. And the most amazing part, Doug wanted no compensation for his time. We remain indebted to him as with many others in the sailing community who have been equally generous.
And while Preston, Sara and I hammered out all the projects we had planned and the few we hadn't, Daniel installed his chainplates while Alexis and Lauren finished the chainwales. Chad was busy replacing anodes in the sea chest and other projects he could do without the boat being in the water including putting a polish on the prop that it hadn't seen in 45 years, and Tracy continued on all her projects in the galley though the work was slowed significantly as she now not only had to negotiate The Bog of Eternal Stench to get to and from the shop, but also had climb a twelve foot ladder to get into the boat as opposed to just walking up the passerrel straight out of the entrance of the shop.
As our week was running to an end, we had to start focusing on what was left to do to launch her once again. For two days prior to putting her back in the water, we started applying the bottom paint. The particular type of paint we have does better if it hasn't hardened off completely, so we kept on applying coat after coat until the wee hours of the morning of the launch, and after only a couple of hours of sleep, we were awakened by the Travel Lift rolling up behind the boat.
Without breakfast, everyone scrambled to their appointed stations and duties and we had the boat in the water within an hour of our waking up. Once we had her out of the Travel Lift slip, piloted over to our reserved spot, backed into the seawall and secured, we had a big meal and toasted to a successful week with champagne. Then I gave the crew the rest of the day off, which created an erie silence and stillness on the boat that I had not experienced before during daylight hours. It wasn't quiet because they had all gone to the beach or into town, it was because they had all unexpectedly, yet wisely invested the rare opportunity in sleep.
