Today's forecast: Sun and upper 80s, chance of 90. Time to take the fiberglass paneling off, see just how far in the damage goes, and dry things out. Last night I unscrewed all of the flashing and prepped things, and this morning I drilled out the rivets and removed the ladder screws. Naturally the ladder is rust-welded on at the top, so that won't be coming off, but I was able to slide the panel out from behind.
Here's the entire thing with the rotted front plywood panel pulled off.
So there we were, all ready to re-paint the stateroom. We went to Lowe's and purchased the paint (two lovely shades of blue that escape me at the moment), got some snazzy new flooring to put in, and had things plotted out. Saturday rolled around and I got to work removing the crappy patio rug and other accessories that were in there. I extracted the rear step and discovered something strange and wet.
No, it wasn't Delia's nose hiding in the dark. It was, in fact, wet wood.
Alrighty then. There's about ninety photos in a gallery now available for your viewing pleasure here. I figured that was a few too many pictures to put in a single entry, especially since some of you are still on dial-up, so instead it opens a gallery with thumbnails that you can click to view larger images. If you're a sadist or really want a poster-sized copy of a picture, the original 4 megapixel images are also linked.
It was a dark and stormy day, and it shows in how wet we are by the end and how many drops found their way onto the lens. Enjoy, because once it was afloat and the engines fired up, we certainly enjoyed it. There's lots to come, including more sagas of a catty nature and the myriad improvements we've already done (such as putting things back together and adding lights!)
Sorry about the lack of access to the site yesterday. We had a lot of people worried that the server was on the boat and ten feet under water or something!
It was actually just a wireless router kerfuffle at my house, and a quick swift kick took care of things.
There's about 923743 pictures and videos from the launch to be posted in the very near future, but for now you can rest assured that the boat is safely at dock, and Delia is already over her ten seconds of panic about moving to a new place and has discovered all the tiny hatches and pass-throughs so she can scrub the bilge for us.
Right.
Oh yeah, and there's a few odds and ends to properly tie up, such as the boat itself (which only came with two lines, so we quickly had to obtain an additional pair...)
More... MUCH more to follow, including Alex's fine video footage of the boat backing into the water and cruising along the lake in the pouring rain.
Okay as my compatriot previously pointed out (he beat me to it!), today is moving day. We are awaiting word of the boat's arrival in Olympia, WA, which is something like halfway between Raymond and Seattle. Everything is going swimmingly, including the marina manager calling to offer assistance and "round up some of the boys" if we need help. Not a totally selfless act; he said in a kind of worried tone, "You've got someone moving it for you, right?" and then offered his services with the qualifier, "so you don't smash into anything." Granted, our slip is about 20 feet wide, and it lies between a $600,000 house barge and a restored 40' wooden sailboat. Well, help is help, and we're grateful.
I had a series of detailed, lucid nightmares last night. All of them involved sinking boats. Mostly, I found myself alone on the dock, wondering why the Octopus of Love was sitting so low in the water, and then watching in horror as the water began flooding in through the windows. I jumped into the Lake and was attempting to hold the boat above water until help came. I had on SCUBA gear and was underneath the boat (I remember looking at the zinc plate we nailed onto the transom in approval), trying to figure out what was wrong. The boat was going down so fast, and it was so heavy... I woke up sweating and panting and practically strangling my cat. When I fell back asleep, a similar nightmare started, except this time I was not alone -- it was some Hawaiian holiday and people were partying on the boats next to ours and on the dock. And likewise, the boat began to sink. But then I realized it was not our boat, it was someone else's that looked exactly like ours. I still tried to save it, and no one else was trying to help, they just stood there in their grass skirts, drinking out of coconuts and watching the Cruise-a-Home sink like the Titanic into the bowels of Lake Union.
It's going to be fine. I'm sure.
Unloading in T - 1 h 50 min.
It's delivery day. Naturally, it's raining and the forecast doesn't look promising.
We've got confirmation the boat was picked up in Raymond, so now it's the long, slow wait.
There's the remains of one of the blisters mentioned in the survey, now ground out and about to be filled in with epoxy and re-painted. Gary's been great about doing some of these last few things before the boat gets trucked up here. The following few images show the repairs done thus far...
Yeah, that's us hard at work last weekend. Actually, this was the first time we've taken the opportunity to pull out my shiny new Go board to play since Kristin got it for me last Christmas. She played black, I was white. This is a very impressive showing, considering it's only her second time playing, and first time on a full-sized board! I'll leave it as an exercise to figure out the score, but for reference I went first, so she gets the 6.5 extra points. (I won 186 to 181.5, but don't tell anyone.)
Actually, there was some real work done as well...
I have no idea if the marine survey of our boat will be of any use or interest to anyone, but if it is, read this entry. If you don't care about federally required safety equipment and starboard transom moisture readings, continue about your daily business. There's nothing to see here.
... even though Lake Union is fresh water. (Must be my overactive imagination.)
We have a completed survey! We have insurance! We have someone to haul the boat to Lake Union! We have someone to drive the boat to the slip! Our beloved boat seller Gary, Man of the Year, is finishing repairs today. Steve is at the department of licensing as we speak. All systems are go!
I can hardly believe it. I wish you could understand how many phone calls I've had to make in the past 3 weeks. It's ludicrous. I dealt with 12 insurance agencies and about 14 marine surveyors until I could convince one to give us liability and the other to journey all the way to Raymond to have a look-see at our vessel.
The survey last Wednesday went splendidly. Gary, who has little respect for surveyors, always refers to them in quotes. The "surveyor" said this needed to be fixed. Or that guy came to "survey" the boat. Gary builds 150 foot catamarans for a living. I trust his judgement.
We'll follow up with an in-depth detail of the survey results. The issues were all minor, and almost all of them will be remedied by the end of this week. (propane system, flares, fire extinguishers, other assorted shortcomings)
The wonderful woman I work with offered her services to help us move the boat on Monday. (Next MONDAY!) She's an angel. She says, "Why aren't you moving the boat?" and I said "Um, we can't drive". And she said, "And you got a FORTY foot boat?" and I said "Um, yes."
She also informed me that B.O.A.T. actually stands for "Bring on another thousand." My dad used to have a bar sign that had the definition: "Boat: a hole in the water into which one pours money."
I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a raise in July.