Bottom Job!

There are several questions to ask yourself before buying a forty year old sailboat.

Is the Keel intact?

Is the hull structurally sound?

Are you prepared to spend one beautiful spring day sanding until you turn blue?

Have you lost your mind?

For good or bad, our answers to the above questions were all 'yes'.

Except for the sanding part.

That information was withheld.

The hull, or the underwater portion, of our fixerupper is fiberglass – layers and layers of it.

The Keel, the big fin underneath, is lead.

Both are covered with marine grade paint to protect them.

Or in our case, were covered.

Over time and exposure, that paint peels and no longer protects sufficiently.

Just like a house.

Except you can't put aluminum siding on a boat.

At least I don't think you can...

Anyway,

The normal person would pay to have the boatyard powerwash and repaint. Or, as the Ozark Yacht Club calls it, a Bottom Job.

But, from those original questions, we have established that we are, in fact, not normal.

Plus, we spent the 2018 boat budget on a new propane outboard and a port-a-potty.

Which is why I found myself, on a lovely April afternoon, sanding the bottom of the boat, which is up on jack-stands on a parking lot right off the Bagnell Dam Strip. There is no electricity. There is no running water.

Just a whole lot of gravel and sun.

Sure, I am in the shade...

This is after 10 minutes. Ten. Minutes.

Truthfully, the sanding wasn't terrible. It took a couple hours but we got the worse of the peeling paint off. Sure we inhaled a moderate amount of fiberglass and lead dust. But you know, live and learn.

The sanding was followed by a vigorous brushing with a stiff, long handled broom and then an alcohol wipe down.

Rob chose the alcohol wipe as

1. there was no water to rinse the excess dust off
2. alcohol dries very rapidly.

Oh, and

                       3. inhaling all those alcohol fumes just added to the amazing quality of the                                    day....

Once we regained consciousness, the boat was taped off and Rob rolled while I edged and painted the smaller areas around the jack-stands where the roller wouldn't reach. (Sorry about the paint on those straps, guys.)

Blue tape. Blue Boat. Blue paint...

Fancy Hull Paint. Only used about half the can!

Goes on smooth...

Clean up was a little dicey.

It was a toss up between being 'green' and trying to wash all the rollers and paint containers in the bathroom at the yacht club or remaining members of the yacht club.

At the end of the day, everything went in the trash.

Looks brand new! And to think, this will be underwater the next time we see her.

We brushed off as much blue dust and paint as we could before heading down the hill to clean up a little.

With the lake three hours from home, and our 'lake house' on jack-stands, we opted to stay the night at the Quality Inn.

It says a lot about the desk clerk that she never mentioned my interesting blue tan or the homeless quality of my clothes.

Sunday was spent taking Blue Skies, our wooden sloop, out on the big lake. She was neglected all last year in favor of the fixer-upper.

We set her up in the parking lot, with one good reef in the main as it was fairly windy, even in our cove.

In the land of power boats and fiberglass, this is a sight for sore eyes.

And if anyone doubts that a boat has a soul, they should have been holding the bowline as she hit the water.

The minute Rob pulled the trailer away, she strained at those lines, just begging to sail.

It was an amazing feeling, holding her back, sails still down and no tide or current.

You get a much neater reef when it's done on the parking lot.

We had a fantastic afternoon, even with one reef. We did put the jib up after a bit and even ventured out into the main arm near the dam, where the wind really picked up and Blue Skies soared!

Wing on Wing. Don't get to do this very often.

The weekend wrapped up with that three hour drive home.

We were slightly sunburned, pretty stiff and sore and not a little exhausted.

But it was so worth it.

Cool Change was ready for an exciting new year of sailing.

Blue Skies had her water fix for a bit.

And we learned a little more about sailboat ownership:

1. I look good with blue highlights in my hair.
2. Alcohol plus paint dust = permenant blue paint on your hands.
3. Eagles get a kick out of watching people attempting to get their photograph and instead coming about in a complete circle. Twice.

Nest and Eagle

Fuzzy as it's from my phone. We have seen this guy out and about early in the morning.
Can't believe he lives so nearby!

Next time the boat hull needs painting we will opt for the professional Bottom Job.

But only after they buy us dinner first.

*As it so happens, this is a possibility. I just got an email from the Ozark Yacht Club offering Dine and Detail – you order up your boat work and your dinner from the Lakeside Cafe. You have a lovely waterfront meal and the boatyard does the work!

https://ozarkyachtclub.com/lakeside-cafe

You had me at Torpedo Tacos...

So now I guess we have a Fleet...

My sanity has always been a tiny bit on the questionable side...

It took a turn for the lunatic in 2008.

I didn't realize it at the time.

Of course, that's what they all say.

What happened in 2008 you ask?

Well, my husband decided it would be fun to build a small sailboat from a kit.

Never mind that we neither one know how to sail. Or that we live in the middle of the country where there is very little sailing, compared to, oh say Maine or the Caribbean. 

Nothing But a Breeze was built in 2008 and took it first trip to the Gulf of Mexico in the back of a rental truck in 2011 where we were the entertainment for everyone in Destin harbor.

And a sea turtle.

It was a short keel-haul to phase two: 

A 15 foot sloop built from plans. Blue Skies took a little bit longer to build, beginning in 2009 and launching in June of 2013. Later that year she got her first taste of salt water, again in the Gulf at Destin where we entertained everyone in Choctawatchee Bay.

And some dolphins.

And a guy in a HUGE yacht who thought it was funny to cruise really really close to us, causing us to surf down his wake...

Fast forward to 2016.

We have been sailing for 8 years now. We both have US Sailing 101 certifications. Rob has ASA Sailing 103-104. We have rented and sailed 24ft to 39ft mono-hull boats on both fresh and salt water.

And in December of 2016 we kicked off the holiday season by purchasing this:

Cool Change. Thankfully an acceptable name. It is a whole big deal, not to mention bad luck, to change it. And that isn't cool...

Cool Change.

A C&C24.

A 24 foot mono-hull sailboat with a v-berth built in 1976.

A fixer-upper.

We pondered the purchase of this boat for nearly a year -http://www.coastofillinois.com/2016/06/middle-age-couple-checks-out-fixer-upper.html, first taking a glancing look at it in the fall of 2015 then again in the Spring of 2016. I was against the purchase while Rob was for it. Then I would be pro-boat and he would be against.

We both knew that owning a boat, docked 3 hours away, would mean many weekends away from home working on projects. But it could also mean owning a boat 3 hours away from the hub-bub that is staying home on a weekend.

It was on the drive back up US 1 from Key West to Miami last November, coming home from a vacation where we sailed several days with friends on our own 'personal' sailboat that we both, nearly simultaneously said – 'remember that old sailboat...'

And after much negotiating and a fortuitous price drop we became the proud owners of a floating project.

I am still not sure if the seller was more excited that he had unloaded the boat or amused that we actually bought it.

We spent the first few hours of ownership taking turns climbing in and out of the hold, unloading everything that would fit in the back of our car for the trip home. The plan being to spend the cold winter months beginning the rehab project.

Things have moved along quite nicely. 

We brought back the table, companionway doors and tiller. 

The fold up table is going to get a re-design. Hopefully with a little storage and a more efficient, modern style.

The companionway door. In serious need of refinishing rebuilding. Unfortunately, the bottom is rotted away. Rob has cut a new door of some poplar and is currently debating which color stain to use in order to match the remaining good wood on the boat. His preference would have been oak, but there was none to be found when he was at the wood shop and he is itching to get things moving.

Tiller, sanded down with one coat of varnish. We weren't sure what sanding would uncover - the wood was sadly neglected and a very weathered grey.

A SCREEN DOOR!! We jokingly commented what a good addition a screen door would be. And then we found one on the boat!

My only contribution so far has been to help unfold and refold the sails and convince Rob to replace ALL the slugs on the two main sails. The boat, for reasons unknown to us, came with FIVE sails - two main, one jib and two genoas. Genoas being extra huge jibs, for really catching a lot of wind, especially should you wish to race...

Here is what FIVE sails in a family room look like: 

Sails

Sails, cushions and a sunshade in need of dying.

Sails, sail bags and cushions.

 My other contribution has been to over-dye the cushion fabric. Originally we thought about completely re-doing the upholstery but on closer inspection the fabric, while faded, was in pretty good shape. The cushions are firm and not at all musty. This is a huge savings this year. Upholstery fabric is a little pricey and cushion foam is crazy expensive. Eventually I have plans for a Pintrest worthy fabric re-do. But for now we will be happy with Navy blue.

The original v-berth fabric. Had to tell in the pic but it was pretty faded, especially after washing.

To our surprise, this is the original fabric, found under the navy material. Quite stained, but the fact that is was not smelly and still pretty much in one piece does speak to how well the boat had been maintained in its day.

after washing. before four bottles of Rit navy blue dye.

The v-berth cushion after dyeing and re-upholstering. Sorry the pic is upside down. The computer is fighting me.

As we get closer to Spring, we are both getting more excited to get down and actually spend some time inside and out. Rob has a first hand, splinter to splinter knowledge of the two boats he has built. This one remains something of a mystery. The owners manual, while extensive, is no match for hands on living. I have only been inside twice, the second time while the boat was on stilts - not very conducive to planning. My dream is to have a beautiful, functional albiet tiny living space where we can retreat on weekends.

Next big project is restringing the sheets to the mainsail. 

And repainting the hull prior to putting her in the lake. 

Stay tuned for more This Old Boat!!

Sailing and the Tropical Depression formerly known as Hurricane Bill

You would think, as long as I have lived on the Coast of Illinois, that I wouldn't be surprised by anything that happens around here. But then, this happened: 

To quote Bob, from What About Bob: I'm sailing!

I know. I have been talking about sailboats ever since the Coast came into existence. But I have to be honest. While I knew the reality of our wooden boat was inevitable, I really never believed that one day I (capital, italics, bold, exclamation point) would be steering anything larger than a modified bathtub.

Huh.

Rob, who clearly has way too much time on his brain, has nurtured the idea of learning to sail these big boats in preparation for round two of our lives where we charter and sail every body of water out there including but not limited to Gulfs, Seas, Oceans and Sounds. Oh, and Lakes of Greatness. Being the supportive wife, I have let him ramble on about boat types, mooring balls, tidal maps. I was more than happy to take a trip to Tortola and earn my Sailing 101 certification. But the thought of taking the more difficult 102-103 classes, where you learn things like navigation and diesel engines gave me a strong desire to go shopping and have pillow fights.

Using the 'Gilligan didn't have all that book learning' argument, I bowed out of round two of classes, which he opted to take at Lake of the Ozarks, a mere 4 hours away. And, because one must practice what is learned, I found myself the proud renter, for 24 hours, of a 26 foot sailboat.

Only that boat was not available when we arrived. So I found myself the proud renter of a 32 foot sailboat.

Only that boat was drenched, thanks to the tropical depression formally known as Hurricane Bill. It seems that an elderly boat's window gaskets won't hold up to one week of torrential rain. This interesting turn of events landed us in a 36 foot Catalina sailboat. 

The Mariposa

For those measurement challenged out there – 36 feet is the length of a telephone pole, twice the height of an average giraffe or five times the height of Shaq – that would be 5 Shaqs, laid end to end.

This was one big ass sailboat.

We rented the boat through the Ozark Yacht Club. (Okay. I know. Brings to mind a group of those Baldknobbers People in overalls with one strap, a hat with a hole in it, a corn cob pipe and a whole bunch of bass boats. Well, stop it.) The Ozark Yacht Club is just off the Bagnell Dam Strip (where there ARE Baldknobbers in overalls plus nearly as much neon as Las Vegas and the largest population of salt water taffy west of the Mississippi. The club is nestled in a wooded cove, down a frightening hill. It offers several beautiful rental cabins as well as a wine bar, an award winning cafe, a small beach, a swimming pool and a full service marina. 

The Lakeside Cafe. Yummo breakfast, lunch and apre-sail snacks. Also, lovely shower facilities upstairs.

It is also the home of some enormous, expensive boats. All of which I was certain would zoom from their slips and into our path as we maneuvered our boat for the day out of, then back into it's slip.

I am hiding in the cabin so as not to see the huge, expensive boats we are not crashing into.

After Bert from the marina gave us a tour and run down of the boat's controls (it had a diesel engine and AC/DC power although the galley and head were not functional for our visit) we grabbed some big ass sandwiches from the cafe and prepared to cast off. Once out of the marina and in the main channel, I put the boat in irons and Rob hoisted the main sail. 

This is when it started.

I was at the helm, the boat pointed directly into the wind. As the sail went up the boat began to gently, but firmly move. I made constant adjustments to keep our direction. We wanted to start off slowly to get a feel of the boat's capability. It was quite clear. Mariposa wanted to sail. The power of wind and vessel is impressive. It demands respect.

It had taken hold of me.

Sails from the bow.

Rob took the helm and turned us to a close reach, wind over the port. I hoisted the jib and we were off. Not too fast, but moving.

No motor.

Just wind.

There is no feeling like it.

More sails. I can't help it.

This is where the Tropical Depression formerly known as Hurricane Bill comes in. You see, Missouri, Texas and it's Hurricane are only one panhandled state apart. Which means the Coast of Illinois hosted tropical depression rain for five days straight. Including the Wednesday we were planning to sail. In fact, it rained on us for the entire 4 hour drive. I kept repeating 'rain before 7, stop by 11'.

And it did.

Until 3pm.

Maybe 1pm, I really have no idea. By this point I was so wet my eyeballs were blurry. Thankfully, there was no lightening and the wind was quite gentle which was a good thing as we were already under sail. (Safety Police alert – Rob had done his captaining work and triple checked the weather, reviewed our plan with the marina people. There was a radio on the boat. We had raincoats and life vests at the ready.)

For nearly four hours we shared the lake with two other sailboats and a couple of jet skis. The lake was calm, the wind fairly steady but gentle. We topped out around 3knots. Not very fast, especially for a big boat with it's sails full out. But plenty fast enough for someone who is incapable of judging distance on the water and has an over-heightened fear of destroying someone else's very expensive boat, dock, house on the shore.

As Rob pointed out many many times, I can drive a car. If something is coming at me in a car, I turn. Same with a boat. But here's the thing. A boat doesn't have a break. I can't slam on the pedal with both feet and STOP. Sure, I can turn the boat into the wind (in irons) or just drop the sails and it will stop (nearly)dead. I have had a lot of experience doing this, by mistake.

I spent an equal amount of time grinning like an idiot because I was so happy and wishing I had a prescription for 1million Xanax because my anxiety over destroying something was higher than the 40 foot mast.

This is something I may need to come to terms with.

The desire to continue on past one more cove, around that next corner was strong. So was the wall of rain we could see further down the lake.

We returned to the marina without incident. Unless you count my sudden urge to BUY the boat, which just happened to be for sale.

I got over that as Rob listed the number of things needing 'upgrading' and the cost of each.

Our hope had been for a full live-on-a-boat experience. 

interior shot. sort of a floating camper in need of a little love.

As the boat was not outfitted for showers and cooking, we used the club facilities. (No. Not an outhouse and garden hose.) The Ozark Yacht Club provides it's members, and boat renters, a fully equipped club house. We had our choice of several private bathrooms – each extremely clean. The club also has a full service kitchen and a club room connected to a long balcony with tables and chairs. (These amenities were not part of our access, which is not to say I didn't 'investigate' them. All very clean and void of anything made of corncob.)

We had dinner at Lil' Rizzo's, an Italian restaurant about 15 minutes away. We have eaten here several times on trips to the lake, each time finding the place completely by accident. I can only believe that Lil' Rizzo's is actually a mobile figment of my imagination which just pops up when I am starving. House salads, light, flaky, herb-y dinner rolls, spaghetti with meatball, supreme pizza, a glass of wine each – yum!

On the way back to the boat we stopped and grabbed desert at Pete's Market– chocolate covered graham crackers.

Rob and I both spent time in the Ozarks as kids. We have both skied the lake behind power boats until our arms were ready to fall off and our hands couldn't let go of the tow rope then passing out dead asleep in shared cabin bedrooms or tents.

That was the kid us.

The grown-up us spent the remainder of the evening on deck with a glass of wine, reading and just enjoying the quiet lake. Oh, and this:

 And this:

And for about 30 seconds, this:

Because of the threat of rain overnight, we opted to sleep on the fold-down table bed in the center of the boat where we had a fan. We chose to ignore the fact that the metal mast (lightening rod) ran through the corner of the bed by Rob's feet.

Our morning looked like this:

Rob went on a coffee run and I sat on deck with my book, watching a fish jump and a duck quack its way around the shore. One of the best mornings ever.

And that's when it really happened.

I know now. Deep down, so much that I actually read and enjoyed an article about installing a water maker on a sailboat, that this is something I want to do. Not because someone else wants it.

But because I want it.

That is an amazing feeling.

Sort of like sailing.

Of course on the way home, this happened:

The Mississippi Ocean. The Arch can be seen mid-right, if it were SUNNY.

Who knew the Coast of Illinois would actually become a real Coast...

For the purpose of full disclosure – I have no financial gain to be made from any of the mentions above. Sadly. I would even be willing to be paid in boat rentals. And those flaky, herb-y dinner rolls.

Check out the Sailing Page – there is an awesome video documenting our evolution to sailors, courtesy of my Dad. Thanks Dad! Oh, and one of my favorite songs – Morning Coffee - by my brother, musician, Karl Schloz.