Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

It was just the coolest thing.  I’ve just got to share this one.  Yesterday, as I was saying, I did a damn fool thing with a really powerful tool.  And truth be told, anything that can punch a hole through a steel I-beam, can certainly have a nasty effect on the soft tissue of a 68-year old hand.  I thought maybe if I wrote about it, maybe somebody else might somehow manage to avoid a similar fate.  Maybe.

As a clinically-confirmed introvert, I naturally don’t have a large list of friends.  And, social gatherings are something of a challenge.  So, to avoid becoming a complete boatshop-hermit; I do maintain a rather extensive correspondence.  I sent the text of my riff about getting smashed by a high torque drill motor to a handful of folks that I felt would have some sort of resonance with that sort of thing.  The responses have been truly quite wonderful.  Not the way we most of us bond via this particular milieu.  Perhaps, we should from time to time.

I’ll excerpt a few, without names.  See what you think.

"… we couldn't very well say anything critical as we both either have or can see ourselves doing the same thing…"

"Ouch, sorry about that. Men who work with their hands (real Men) do these things. This is another of those lucky-unlucky things. Glad you are still with us and with two hands. Pushing harder on the dull bit, utilizing step up bits, this sounds like me. And, sometimes I think that I am the only meat head around. But, how many times do we get away with it, before.. bang?"

"I recall an older Montgomery-ward 1/2" drill we had that was the same way. Thing would beat you like red-headed step child if you weren't careful."

"Innywho... just as you did, I had both handles firmly placed, both hands were gloved w/ elk skin ropers, goggles in place, wearing jeans not shorts AND I was down on both knees for bracing 1/8", 1/4", 3/8", 1/2" & now for the biggie... the 5/8" (which I had to go back to town for since I couldn't find the one I thought I already had and that new one was fresh & sharp) as the D*#@ thing got to that infamous spot it grab'd and sent me spinning the handle pressure was so strong on the inside of my hand it broke the bone connecting my wrist & my ring finger green stick, splintery fracture that was pooching out on the back of the hand I duct taped it in the glove & finished the project, 5 more holes & mounted all 6 tie down anchors. I SHOWED IT! Did I tell you I was @ the barn, 36 miles from home by myself? Went to my orthopedist the next day and the x-rays confirmed my suspissions - he wrapped it in an ace bandage and I had to wait 2 weeks for the swelling to reside so he could go in and put it back together w/ 3 little tiny screws on the weekend in between the accident & the surgery I rode my sidecar rig (attached pic) to a rally in Galveston. I NOW have one of those very expensive tapered drill bits w/ steps that makes this type of operation much safer"

"It is like that country song ... I knew what I was doing ... but what was I thinking!"

" I like the 1/2 inch drill. It makes for exciting times. Rated a number 7 by the Darwin Awards Committee. Mine is a Bosch, a more sneaky innocent green instead of the OSHA Yellow. Unlike the chop saws, the half inchers have no safety items you can remove."

"I remember hanging in a bosun chair drilling holes in 3/4 inch steel on the back side of the lock wall. We had a drill that looked much like a drill press but it was held in place with a very powerful magnet. The thing weighed about 50 pounds. Try to handle that from a boson chair…"

We do, in fact, travel with a very colorful group of boatfolks.  Now, don’t we? 

I’ll try to get the Kathleen project back on track, without further masochisitic tendencies displayed.  We’re a long long way from being done.  But after the night shift, tonight, I can report that the trailer is painted, and the bunks & keel platform are close to the right position and shape.  Close.

In a bow toward safety, I set the hull down on the keel-stub while working on the trailer.  I discovered that the nominal draft will be just a hair over a foot and a half.  Not too bad.  If she floats like I think she will, anyway.

I’ve already been caught sitting glassy eyed in the cockpit, daydreaming about getting this little girl underway.  And, now that we are on a probably-operational trailer; the next step is to go on down to the launch ramp and see if she can float off.

And, continue floating.  That would be a good thing.

0500:

Ok, I’ll admit to being at a sort of nexus this morning.  It’s almost dawn.  The sky over the trees to the east is just starting to lighten.  I’ve been up for about an hour.  And, I suppose the expression, “All dressed up, and no place to go” has some relevance here.  In about the past week or so, I’ve managed to bring a disregarded old sailboat hulk from a pine needle-collecting device perched on a rusty old trailer out in the woods, to the matrix for something much better.  There was considerable effort, bruises, and blood involved.  A lot of hurry-up. 

The big push was to get something ready to float test.  Maybe even to sea trial a bit.  Before relegating it to the shop for further complete renovation during the fall Building Season that is close upon us.  Part of that test is to check for leaks, while the bilge is completely empty - before any ballast, tankage, and internal supports are added.  To do that, effectively, I need to get the boat off the trailer and into the water.  At this point that leads to a couple what-if’s. 

What-if I set the bunks and keel supports too high and the hull won’t float off without a lot of shoving, cussing, and wading on my part?  There’s no carpeting or rollers installed yet.  I may still have to grind, sand, saw, or remove sections of the rather intricate web of steel and red fir 2x6 lumber.

What-if the hull does in fact slide into the water, and refuse to reload without radical efforts with strategies like disconnecting the trailer (probably 1,500 pounds empty)?  Or heaven forbid; what-if it’s necessary to back the car into the lake to get the axle deep enough to get the hull back on?  And, while I’m fooling with those issues - working alone, as per normal - what-if the boat begins to take on water through someplace I only think I have sealed up?  Stuff like that.

In the meantime, it’s started to rain.  And, rain is literally a Godsend around these parts.  We’re in the midst of the worst wild land fire season in the history of the state.  Rain is such a good thing, nobody in their right mind would do anything but cheer.  Except for the not-so-small matter of needing a dry hull interior for the leaktest coming just as soon as I can see my way to the lake.  All just a bit confusing.

0530:

The rain has quit, and blue sky is poking through.

We are hooked up, and ready to roll the half mile up the road to our local launch ramp.  Somehow, it doesn’t look or feel a lot like the week BEFORE Labor Day.  About 40 degrees out, this morning.  The neighbors’ tomatoes are still all looking pretty green, as we head up our gravel road for the pavement.  Gonna’ get down to freezing tonight.  This leaktest is getting more time-sensitive all the time.

0540:

At least, there isn’t anybody else down here, to get impatient with me for hogging the ramp.  I still don’t know if we’ll float, leak, even sink…

0545:

Huzzah!  We’re floating.  Miss Kathleen, this is water.  You haven’t been here in a long, long time.  Not a proper launching.  Not a proper christening, no way.  But, you are floating.  And.  And, leaking…

0605:

Back to the barn.  And, back to the drawing table.  It was running pretty solidly from someplace in the toe of the keel stub.  Outa’ sight behind a rotted old plywood partial bulkhead.  Up where I kinda’ wondered about when I was splayed uncomfortably under the trailer frame attempting to glop ‘pox and heavy bi-ax cloth into a keel bottom shoe.  Up there, someplace. 

There should be several more opportunities for a leaktest, float test, before the ice forms.  I hope.  Probably.

1330:

This morning’s fast cruise was pretty instructive.  I wanted to know if M/K would in fact float free of the homebrew trailer.  And, I’m pretty sure she will.  Probably.  Dunno for sure.  Maybe.  We’ll see, when she’s loaded, and ballasted, and rebuilt.

I also wanted to know if she was gonna’ leak from my battle field amputation and stitching-up job.  And, I’m quite sure that she did. 

While, I could say for a fact, that both tests were completely successfully; I did come home a bit hang-dog.  It was hard enough getting that bottom patch onto the keel stub while the trailer hull supports allowed enough space to actually crawl in and do stuff.  Now, that there is actually NO clearance, things require a degree of greater creativity.  I’ll credit Mississippi Bob for breaking my stall-out.  His advice is direct, and to the point.  “Goop on some more thickened epoxy, and try it again.”  Yep, that’s the stuff.

I was fresh out of the official thickening stuff - getting to do this job over again, is pretty thinkening all by itself - but I do have a whole bunch of that 17 oz. bi-ax cloth, and a small dab of ‘pox.  And, since the final layer of lamination on that stub had smoothed out pretty well before; I figured I could try something like that again.  The genius-thing about this process is a sort of one-sided burger press that I invented on the fly.

The first time around, a “squisher board” was forced into place from below with jacks, wedges, and a high degree of wishful thinking.  But, after some helpful hints about Darwin Awards, and a few close calls with things like drills and hammers and such; I’m pretty reluctant to work on the hull when it’s not on the trailer.  And, there is now a 10 foot long keel tray on the trailer that involves a bunch of steel weldments that I had to remodel forcibly with grinders, Sawzall, and plain old fashioned metal fatique.  Not the sort of thing a guy wants to take apart again.

Soooooo, what if I used a double-sided burger press?  One, where one side is the boat, and the other side is the trailer.  Where, the weight of the hull provides the squish.   Of course, a lot can go at least slightly wrong.  That’s what keeps this project interesting.  For starters, the bottom surface of the keel stub isn’t even close to flat.  When I folded the cloth around the ends, things sort of bunched up there, more than they did in the middle.  And, since I was cutting and shaping and generally using methods learned from watching re-runs of Monster Truck Demolition Derby, where I could only really see parts of one side, and only actually touch even less than that at one time; we’re not exactly parallel with the waterline, either.  A bit wavy, and a bunch twisted.  That makes getting a board covered with trash bags and ‘pox-soaked bi-ax cloth exactly positioned and squished uniformly almost outa’ the question. 

1430:

And, the scene of the crime is so hard to get to, that I’m surprised enough photons could squeeze through the rails to allow a picture to come out.

The burger press and all the gooey, glumpy stuff is waaaaaaaayyyy back in there.  Someplace, that my tired frame was promised not to have to go, anymore.  A promise I was never gonna’ be able to keep.

All this effort is to somehow staunch a probably #6 sheet metal screw sized hole someplace on the underside of the keel.  I’d like to think that the rest of it isn’t quite this crude, rude, and socially unacceptable - and that some of the surplus photons rattling around under there, over-emphasize the bi-ax strands.  At least I hope so.  Because, I don’t think I’m going to be able to get Bosun the attack poodle to crawl under there and do the fairing.  Even though he did promise to do it.

This is the starboard side, with squisher board wedged and cajoled into place to put pressure on the inherently wavy underside. 

“Stir, simmer, allow to cool…”

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