Archive for the ‘Kuani’ Category

An Art Project Begins

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

When we bought Kuani, I realized that we were entering a long-term relationship with a boat that needed some overhauling and general TLC prior to taking to the wind. Some may wonder, why invest in a project boat? Why not buy a boat that is more ready to cruise? Fair enough questions. One answer is that by the time Kuani is ready for cruising, with all the work we are putting into her I will know everything about her, inside and out. And that’s an important resource to recall when we’re miles from land and dealing with some system failure or repair. Our first hand experiences in refitting her will help us manage and troubleshoot systems in the long run. And we gain valuable hands-on skills as we learn what is involved with repairs and upgrades.

For me personally, this means getting down and dirty with a part of the boat that is key to its design, but is rarely seen: the keel. Kuani has a 6200-pound, cast iron fin bulb keel that is bolted to the hull. When she was hauled out in June we began the time-consuming and tedious process of stripping, grinding, faring and repainting this iron monstrosity. In an apparent stroke of kismet, the boat had been placed on stands and blocks just high enough for me to stand beneath the hull without stooping. I acknowledged this fact to my 6-foot tall husband Ken, which sealed my destiny for the upcoming weeks. So began my evolving art project with Kuani’s keel.

Rusty, peeling patches on the keel begging for a grinding.

We began by attacking the areas of rusty, peeling paint with a grinder to expose the metal. This was no small feat as it took Ken and me a day each to strip the areas of compromised barrier coat. We ended up exposing the metal along much of the keel/hull joint and a good portion of the bulb along with a few “islands” in the main body of the fin. The ground keel now showed either shiny metal (exposed cast iron) or black spots (Rust pits? Previously filled dimples? Leprosy? We suspected the latter).

Exposed cast iron with areas of "black pox"

The morning following an application of rust converter paint, we noted some areas were seeping rusty droplets. (As cast iron is somewhat porous, it absorbs water. Dissolved oxygen in the water reacts with the iron to produce rust, which is one of the reasons your mom told you to dry cast iron cookware after washing.) Despite (or maybe with the help of) the rust converter, these areas on the keel continued to seep over the course of several weekends. Kelly, one of the boatyard workers, told me he had seen much worse. An astute observer reminded me that it would take 10,000 years for Kuani’s keel to rust away to nothing. We decided not to sweat a little rusty sweat.

Rust converter Rorschatz test--what do you see? (notice exposed keel/hull joint at top of frame)

Forging ahead I applied one coat of Interlux Interprotect 2000 barrier coat over the exposed parts of the keel to seal the metal from further oxidation. Of course, this also served to seal in any remaining moisture, but after taking into consideration the limited area of seeping rust, we elected to seal the keel rather than wait. Interlux is a two-part epoxy paint (with microplates that overlap to create a barrier!—let’s hope so anyway) and basic math skills are required when mixing. My math skills were apparently as rusty as a cast iron keel that day, because the first batch I made only had two parts paint to hardener instead of the recommended 3 to 1 (these areas still did not seal well, as rusty sweat had appeared by the following morning). Knowing that several more coats were in order, I continued with the first application until the bare metal had been covered while I repeated an old construction axiom to myself, “measure twice, cut once.”

Poorly mixed Interlux is no match for a rust-sweating keel.

The next step was fairing the dimples and pock marks in the areas of new barrier coat to smooth out the keel’s surface. We used another two-part product called Quik Fair, which looks like soft serve ice cream that hardens instead of melting. This fairing compound is fun to work with but takes diligence in removing air bubbles that form during its mixing and application.

With this step completed, the keel had noticeably transformed, from a peeling hunk of iron to an eye-catching curiosity, an abstract art form emblazoned with a strange map depicting red oceans, white continents and tan population centers. Who knew that boat work could allow for artistic expression? I realized I was becoming attached to this project, one that after completed I would not see again until the next haulout. And I would have to wait until that future date to find out whether I had painted a masterpiece or a dud.

Kuani vlog – Aft deck and keel prep – part 3

Monday, August 16th, 2010

 
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Kuani vlog – Aft deck part 2 and Keel prep

Tuesday, August 10th, 2010

 
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Fowl Ball

Monday, August 9th, 2010

One of the benefits of a haulout at the Napa boatyard is its location: nestled amidst river marshes and sloughs, ranch lands and vineyards. Not only are the boatyard surroundings picturesque, but they provide abundant habitat for local and migrating birds. Bird watching has become wonderful entertainment during our weekend warrior work at the boatyard.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." A fat Muscovy duck at the no-name dock.

The Napa Valley Marina has several covered docks, long sheds that protrude from the shore, each named after local waterfowl: Widgeon, Mallard, Pintail, Honker. It’s a quaint, yet illustrative means to identify each dock while at the same time paying homage to the area’s feathered inhabitants (who were, afterall, here before the marina invaded the river bank but who now make the marina their home). In addition to the name on each shed is a larger-than-life, faded wooden cutout of the shed’s namesake, which helps the unknowing boater to differentiate a widgeon from a wood duck if they’re so inclined. Although the colors of these painted likenesses have become muted with sun exposure, with a little imagination it’s pretty easy to match up the species waddling around in the yard with their names. What is so surprising is that the live ducks appear to have recognized the shed designations themselves, as Ken and I have noticed that the mallards congregate on the shore near the Mallard dock while the widgeons stand guard near, you guessed it, the Widgeon dock. I can only suspect that this observation is the coincidence of timing: we only pass by these docks a couple of times a day. I like to think that the ducks intermingle when no one is watching.

Widgeons at the Widgeon dock

One evening at dusk, a mournful cry lifted over the vineyards to the marina. A few moments later the cry came again, a wailing sound that made my skin crawl. It reminded me of a housecat in distress and I cringed at the thought of a wounded animal crying out for help. We heard the cry a few more times that evening and then again the next morning. The longer I listened, the more I realized that I wasn’t hearing a feline; it was definitely a bird. The sound reminded me of a nighthawk, but one with an unconventional call, one that I felt I had heard before but couldn’t quite place. Bird calls are not my forte, but I had become very familiar with the nighthawk call in my youth. This eerie sound couldn’t be a nighthawk. Over the course of a couple weekends as we continued our work on Kuani, the haunting cry would greet the beginning and end of each day. One morning as I stood on the aft deck overlooking the vineyards surrounding Carneros Creek, I heard it again and my memory banks suddenly recovered the missing file: it was a peacock! Yes, the rich man’s rooster: the glorious, cacophonous peacock.

I was sitting in the cockpit admiring the view from 14 feet off the ground. The July sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows and polishing the river’s surface.  Suddenly, a ruckus interrupted my reverie and I spun around to see what the fuss was about. The sky above the harbor was a mass of movement as a swarm of bank swallows circled around a small bird of prey perched on a crow’s nest a hundred yards away. I couldn’t make out the colors of the predator, but its size suggested an American kestrel or sharp shinned hawk. The little swallows swooped and dove at the intruder like fighter pilots, screeching their warnings and displeasure. But the bird remained unmoved, statuesque, the deft flyers darting past it within inches. As I stood watching this scene, I heard a whoosh behind me and spun about as hundreds of red-winged blackbirds took to the sky in a synchronous choreography. Like a school of fish, they wheeled and circled in unison, evoking an amorphous organism greater than its sum of parts. The flock continued to fold and furl, tearing itself apart and reuniting in graceful display. A band of birds departed the whole and curved across the nearby field heading toward the boatyard. They whizzed past me, carving an arc between the masts of Kuani and the neighboring boat. Turning again, their red epaulettes flashed in the sunlight like brake lights during rush hour traffic. Beyond them, a line of Canada geese honked its arrival and a lone great egret headed toward the setting sun. The peacock howled and I realized it was time for dinner.

-JJ

A pair of domestic geese hang out with the natives.

Kuani vlog – Welcome to the Napa Valley Marina, we begin at the bottom

Monday, July 26th, 2010

 
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Up the Napa River without a Paddle

Saturday, July 24th, 2010

There is something quaintly romantic, sometimes even dramatic, about navigating a boat on a river, something that evokes nostalgic yearnings. Rivers are the life blood of the planet, vital green arteries coursing through the musculature of the earth, nurturing the land in some seasons and ravaging it in others. For humanity, rivers have endured as avenues of discovery and conquest, sources of abundance and destruction, and havens of contemplation and inspiration. It is no wonder that writers throughout the centuries have woven tales starring rivers as main characters.

Until our trip up the Napa River, I had only been down a river in a boat, a boat equipped with only paddles or oars for steerage. I had never been on a vessel navigating in the counter-current direction, an effort that requires much more than paddles; it means having a reliable motor. And, despite our efforts, that’s something that we don’t have yet onboard Kuani.

After replacing cooling hoses and the fuel filter, we discovered that the engine would sputter and die, especially when idling. By pumping the manual fuel pump, we could bring the RPMs back up and keep the motor from dying. However, this action requires the grand piano sized engine hatch, which happens to be the salon cabin sole, to remain open, effectively rendering everything forward of the companionway inaccessible. Knowing that the existing fuel in the tank is least three years old and assuming that it most likely came from Central America where fuel quality is reportedly less than primo, Ken decided to have the fuel polished and an inspection port installed on the tank. Nathan from MarineLube came out to clean the tank and polish the fuel; $500 later, he assured us that we have sparkling diesel onboard.

With the anchor ready to set in case of engine failure, we set out from Richmond to the Napa Valley Marina, where Kuani would be hauled for bottom work and where we would enter a new chapter in our relationship with our  boat. We timed our departure so that we would reach the Napa River during a 4.6 flood tide. Captain Ken called the boat yard to remind them of our scheduled haulout for which he found they had no record. The boat yard office stressed that we needed to arrive by 4pm to meet the day’s haulout deadline; otherwise we would have to wait until Monday. We decided to go for it. Ken estimated we would be there by 3:30pm. With a sense of nervous anticipation, we pulled up the dock lines and headed out of Marina Bay.

Shortly into the trip, Ken noticed a small cooling line leak, which he promptly addressed. Five minutes later I opened the engine hatch to discover a steady stream of water squirting from the gasket of the main heat exchanger. Not daring to stop, we kept an eye on the exhaust to make sure water continued to circulate through the system, and I triggered the manual bilge switch every 15 minutes or so.

A couple hours into our journey Ken noticed the RPMs periodically dropped from 2000 to 1800 to 1600. By jiggling the throttle, the engine would recover and we would climb back up to cruising speed (about 8 knots). With our fingers crossed (but also ready for action), we were doing what we could to coax Kuani along to an important destination.

Finally, we rounded Mare Island and headed north up the channel towards the mouth of the Napa River. I called the bridge tender for the Mare Island Bridge and notified him of our passage. He replied that he would raise the drawbridge when he got a fix on us. We motored along, steering ever closer to the bridge and waiting for the ascent of the bridge deck. A hundred yards from the bridge, we had to abort our planned undercrossing, as the bridge remained unmoved. Ken called the bridge tender again, who then began raising the drawbridge. Like a railroad crossing, bells rang out as the final cars passed over the water. Slowly, the bridge deck lifted and we headed toward the crossing. As we neared the bridge, my heart started to race: I wasn’t sure that Kuani’s masts were going to clear the deck. I stood on the bow trying to compare the height of the main mast with that of the bridge (a difficult estimation from that angle). Luckily, the deck continued to rise, and we scooted underneath as I cheered jubilantly and Ken’s blood pressure returned to normal.

We continued past the next two landmarks: the Highway 37 bridge and a set of high power lines. The next landmark proved to be our undoing.

When you think about it, doesn’t every journey have something to teach us? We can second guess ourselves all day about which way to go, but it isn’t until we make a decision that we learn from it. Well, we had heard about beacon #7 in the Napa River from several boaters. Just that morning, a live-aboard neighbor had advised us to give beacon #7 a couple hundred yards of leeway based on his personal experience. This advise was somewhat contrary to Napa Valley Marina’s instructions, which suggested a 50-yard distance from the buoy. Kuani’s skipper, who weighed in favor of local knowledge, swung wide around buoy #7 and we slowly ground to a halt as the keel bore into the soft river bottom. We were stuck in the middle of the Napa River. Two miles from our destination. It was 3pm.

Still hoping that we could somehow make the 4pm deadline, I called Napa Valley Marina, who sent Jeff to tow us in. Within 15 minutes we had secured his tow line to our bow and he had pulled us free. We were once again on our way. We might still be able to make the 4pm “curfew.” We signaled to Jeff that we wanted to release the tow line and follow him in. As soon as I tossed the line free, our engine died and hesitated to restart! Jeff swung back around and I retied the tow line. By this time, Ken was able to get the engine revived, but not wanting to chance it, we followed Jeff’s lead like a reluctant dog on a leash the final mile to the marina. We pulled up to the dock as our motor died one last time. It was 3:50pm. By miracle, happenstance or plain dumb luck, we had made it!

We looked up the ramp to see the boat yard crew pressure washing a beautiful Hans Christian 43 that had just been hauled. Ken headed for the office while I talked with one of the workers. He suspected that we would not be hauled that day, as they had to finish washing then move and secure the Hans Christian on stands.  His suspicions proved to be right. Despite my attempts of beer bribery, the yard manager matter-of-factly stated that we’d have to wait at the dock until Monday to be hauled.

I believe that the saying is true: it’s the journey and not the destination that matters. I know with certainty that the romance continues. And I still have a soft spot in my heart for rivers.

-JJ

Kuani vlog – Repairing the aft deck, part one

Monday, July 19th, 2010

 
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Kuani vlog – Moving to Napa, California

Monday, July 12th, 2010

 
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Kuani vlog – odds and ends from Richmond

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010

 
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Kuani vlog – removing the fuel tank (cont.)

Monday, June 28th, 2010

 
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