Bare-bottomed girl

I suppose this really should read 'bare-bottomed lady', as she is 38 years old; but it got attention.

This status is the product of about 2 seasons of scraping and sanding (with everything else I have to do).  I began using Stryp-Eaze but I had a very bad scraper and made little progress.  I changed to Pettit's Bio-Blast, which I found did not respond to following the directions as they were given.  It's supposed to stay on 15-25 minutes without drying; but I found that on a moderately-warm day, not even hot, it went from gel to utter varnish in much less time than that.  The best tactic was to apply it, using a brush from a cup, wait about 5 minutes and then go at it.  I got a really good deal on a scraper-- with two sets of blades-- at Harbor Freight for $2.99.  No complaints at all with this-- it worked great; but I did rotate the 4-sided blade several times before sharpening it as it did jam up pretty quickly.

I also found that the chemical stripper, having to soak into the paint in order to work well, does not work overhead!  On surfaces that were more on the bottom than on the sides, apparently the stripper merely hung on the paint, softening the very outer layer but doing little else.  So all of the bottom (read that: hardest-to-work-with) places were done mechanically, with 'Dusty' the orbital sander, 50-grit discs and hard work.

Here is a pic from earlier in the season which shows the very bottom layer of paint.  There were, apparently, three layers, all of old-school hard-shell antifouling.  This one was, of course, hardest to remove.  The chemical stripper did not permeate this paint, no matter how many times it was reapplied-- the greenish places are dried Bio-Blast which did not cut it.  For the most part it came off with the orbital sander (which meant that, for the most part, I wore my work home).

(May-Be is my cousin Mike's Capri 26 which was sold in the middle of this summer and relocated to its new home in New York.  This freed up plenty of room to work on mine!)

The black stripe came off well; apparently it was just standard enamel and the stripper ate it easily.  It was always too small and I will be redoing it completely more in keeping with the lines of the boat.


I am sure to have more on this later; but here I will add a reminder that the boottop stripe always has sheer, in both top and bottom edges.  Nothing looks worse than a perfectly-straight boottop, like how this one was.  The top, of course, reflects the sheerline of the boat.  The bottom edge does too; but much less conspicuously. For a boat of this size the bow end might be 2-1/2" above the actual floating waterline, the middle about 1-1/2" and the stern about 2" (I'll post my actual dimensions when I have worked them out). The bottom paint is exposed to the stripe (there should be NO hull color showing, ever).  Without getting too metaphysical you might think of the revealed bottom paint as that thin line of not-yet tanned skin that the woman shows just beyond her swimsuit at the beach.  It looks like vulnerability (a boat at rest should never show her bottom paint to strangers!) but it also indicates strength and hardiness, that she can and will endure whatever these elements hand out.  No one admires a boat that looks like it can barely stay afloat!

This view shows (albeit only slightly) some of the patching I did to the bottom.  The old through-hulls were removed and filled (the two larger circles below and beyond the stand pad).  Below them are seen the new through-hulls, which my daughter helped me install (it's always a two-person job).  The forward one is for the old SR Mariner speedometer-- I got a new fitting from them and almost too late realised it had to be aligned fore-and-aft to ensure the paddlewheel works properly.  I had expected the alignment was done by the paddlewheel itself.

I have since faired the very top of the keel in front-- it looks awfully big here but it's not really.


The other blotches are places where the gelcoat was chipped, not from blistering but just from age.  I filled these using Microlight most of the time, just whenever I had some extra from fairing the deck or keel blade.  This is not the best stuff to use under the waterline; as the filling compound will soak up water; but this bottom will all be sealed in barrier-coat epoxy and so it'll survive just fine.

I also mean to carry the barrier coating up above the waterline in some places, merely to seal some cracks there; so as yet there is no paint-to line or masking involved.

It is important to note that these ancient-gelcoat cracks are not moisture blisters.  One task I had long feared to attempt was to get moisture readings on this hull; but Jerry was checking his C44 in the yard and I borrowed the meter for Diana.  Being so long out of the water it now reads a very respectable 6 and below (out of 22) just about everywhere.  The place along the port side of the keel, where I had detected some delamination and then repaired, now reads under 10.  This might even account for standing bilge water.  The starboard side, however, reads about 16 which is alarming.  I will probe this from inside when I get the chance (before barrier coat) but it may reflect bilge water as well.

(The rudder reads well over 22-- with loud pinging from the detector meter! --which I will address in another place.)

Poor Diana, of course, is understandably embarrassed to be laid so bare and undignified before strangers' eyes.  I told her she has nothing to worry about, that at least it's a very good-looking bottom; but she was very prompt, as soon as I had taken these photos, to rap me in the head with a bit of stray line and then to lash out at my leg as I vaulted out of the hatch--

By the way this still hurts (wearing long pants is like sanding it with 80 grit all day); and I have promised the boat to get the barrier coat on as soon as possible.  At least then she'll be in her pewter-gray underwear, not a bad look for any hull.

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Some inconveniences are beyond counting

I once told my young brother-in-law, as he was building some plastic model airplane and complaining about glue on his fingertips, that to do a good job sometimes you have to love your project more than you care for your self.  This is especially true when it comes to convenience-- after all, most of the things we love are patently inconvenient.  And yet we pursue them anyway; and in this pursuit is how we acknowledge their value to us.

This photo is not great; it's intended to show the nice fat mahogany splinter I got in my foot.  (How? --I wasn't even barefoot.)  In this one week I got this splinter and another as well, tore my fingertips on a jigsaw blade (it was not running), jammed the meat of my hand in the drill-press chuck and mysteriously gashed my leg which bled all over the project in process.

The West Marine sticker is on my daughter's laptop.

Here is the top of the cabin, with no hatch or hatch shroud in place, the day I was fastening down the new hatch-slider rails.  The green tape along a piece of wood is a dam to keep epoxy from coursing down the side of the cabin and over the windows (already let that happen once, so never again!).  I had noticed a stickiness whenever I was kneeling a certain way but in the semi-mad rush to get the sticks into position and screwed down I attributed it to something stuck to my leg.  Only when I was done the most urgent part of it did I happen to notice the red stuff, which I then concluded was blood.

That's the foredeck's hatch coaming in the distance.  At the time of this photo the hatch shroud was being used to cover up that opening-- that's it even farther beyond.

Below you can see something of the main cabin, the compression post, the settee and head trim, and whatnot.


So I took this photo downwards at my leg, probably just to record the solution to the mystery.

Here I am standing up on the quarter berth, my other foot on the ladder step.  The quarter berth is (at this time) the current lumberyard.  The gap below my foot is the 'wet locker,' the one place inside the accommodation that goes straight to the hull skin itself.  Over this I would like to make a panel of slats, like the white-pine ceiling we make for C44s.  On the side of the ladder, behind my leg, goes the stainless-steel double hook to hang up wet foulies.  On the teak cabin face behind me is already another of these hooks.


You can see the cooler under the bottom shelf of the ladder; its cover is accessible when you lift the shelf.  A Fastpin stuck through a hole in the ladder side holds it up.  It's made so that if one should descend the ladder while the shelf is up the shelf won't stick out so far so as to catch a heel and break off-- although it does mean there won't be a second shelf in place for the one coming down.

Also two sections of the three-part cabin sole are visible here.  At the time of this photo the center section is just rough plywood-- it'll be varnished mahogany later.

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