Up early again to get to Napa by about 8 am. Contrary to the forecast, it was drizzly, so I wasn't going to be able to do the electrical work on the mast as I had hoped. Instead, I checked inside for leaks and smells. I rejoiced in the odor-free atmosphere of the main cabin. My purging of the head and cleansing of the fridge had done the trick. The plastic sheeting had also worked. The only leak was, naturally, above a berth. It was most likely coming from imperfect sealing of the hole left by removal of the portlight above the berth. Because everything was wet outside, there was no way to cover it with plastic and duct tape. If it ever stops raining, I'll give it a try.
I spent the next hour or so off-loading sails and doors, making measurements for other projects and checking out what I could on the mast. I also met a fellow boat-restorer named Chris. He's got a little Flicka on the hard near Circadian as well an Alberg in Sausalito that he restored. My first sailboat was a Flicka, so it was fun to go onboard his and wax nostalgic. I gave him a tour of Circadian too, of course. He's a very knowledgable engineer, and seems to be a nice guy too. Imagine that!
I decided I might as well make it a short day, grab lunch and head home so I could do some work in the shop. I drove around town a bit looking for a little Mexican dive I remembered from my last Napa boat yard marathon 10 years ago. After one false start, I found it pretty easily. It was pretty much as I remembered: good cheap food, which is not easy to find in chi-chi Napa!
With more than 3 hours of driving behind me, by the time I had gotten home and unloaded everything my ambition had significantly diminished. Besides, I told myself, it was getting late and I needed to do laundry. So, all I did was a little grinding on the new fiberglass windlass base and put a fairing layer of glass on the top.
January 19, 2010
I added one more layer of resin and roving to the mold and cured it in my antique Chambers oven. 
It’s the perfect oven for it. It was designed and promoted to “Cook with the gas turned off!” It’s constructed with lots of heavy iron and insulation, so it stays hot for a long time after turning off the gas. I heated it up to about 100 degrees, shut of the gas, and put in the polyester-and-glass lasagna. By the next morning it had cured perfectly. 
It’s the perfect oven for it. It was designed and promoted to “Cook with the gas turned off!” It’s constructed with lots of heavy iron and insulation, so it stays hot for a long time after turning off the gas. I heated it up to about 100 degrees, shut of the gas, and put in the polyester-and-glass lasagna. By the next morning it had cured perfectly. 
January 18, 2010
Boat work was limited today by a host of unrelated errands and obligations. Nonetheless, I dropped off the propane tanks to get them tested, certified, and new valves installed so they can be refilled. I also picked up resin, fiberglass, mold release, and a baking pan to mold a 2-inch-thick solid fiberglass platform to raise a new windlass into proper position. After dinner, I cut up the woven roving into a dozen or more 12 x 14 inch rectangles, layered them into the baking pan like a lasagna (two or three at a time), then mixed and poured several batches of resin into the mold. It got a bit hot, but ultimately cured fine.
January 17, 2010
I was anxious to find out if the windlass was repairable, so as soon as my morning cup of coffee brought me to consciousness, I was in the basement poking, prodding and dissecting. I connected a twelve volt current directly to the motor supply wires, but it still showed no signs of life. The dissection began in earnest. It quickly revealed a burned solenoid terminal and motor supply wire. Not a good sign. 
Testing with the ohm meter showed zero resistance through the motor, confirming it was fried (or is it “toast”?) as a result of an internal short. Motors can be rewound, but unless everything else was perfect, it wouldn’t be worth it in this case. Further examination revealed that all four of the cast iron mounting flanges for the motor/gear/gypsy assembly had broken. The patient was definitely terminal.
I spent the rest of the day fabricating and assembling a new teak louver and rabbeted trim piece to repair and replace broken parts on the aft cabin hanging locker door.
Testing with the ohm meter showed zero resistance through the motor, confirming it was fried (or is it “toast”?) as a result of an internal short. Motors can be rewound, but unless everything else was perfect, it wouldn’t be worth it in this case. Further examination revealed that all four of the cast iron mounting flanges for the motor/gear/gypsy assembly had broken. The patient was definitely terminal.
I spent the rest of the day fabricating and assembling a new teak louver and rabbeted trim piece to repair and replace broken parts on the aft cabin hanging locker door.
January 16, 2010
Up early and headed back to Napa Saturday morning. The weather forecast called for rain for the next two days, which was unfortunate since I had Monday off for the Martin Luther King holiday. Clearly it wasn’t an auspicious time to unwrap the mast and start on the mast wiring and radar installation projects. So, armed with my trusty volt-ohm meter and a big set of wrenches, my goal was to determine if the non-functioning windlass was getting current, and if so, to dismount it and bring it home for further diagnosis. Since it had been taking a beating from wind and sea on the bow of Circadian for some 35 years, it was no surprise that it wasn’t working. I just hoped it was something simple and cheap, since the manufacturer in England was long out of business and parts were pure unobtainium. 
In order to determine if current was reaching the windlass, I had to remove it from the deck to access the terminals on the bottom. Thanks to its previous removal when the decks were recently redone, it was surprisingly easy. I was thankful that Jessie was experienced enough to know not to use 3M 5200 as the sealant. It is such a strong adhesive that it is impossible to remove something bonded with it without a chisel and saw. 
It didn’t look too bad underneath where the electrical connections were housed, but the meter told me that current was getting past the switch and to the solenoid, so I knew something was wrong with either the solenoid (minor) or the motor (major or even terminal). 
I disconnected the wiring from the supply battery and then from the windlass so I could dismount it and bring it home. The damn thing was just as heavy as the gas-powered emergency pump, so I lowered it to the ground the same way I had the pump two days before.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning up, removing old foodstuffs from the galley, and off-loading the loose locker doors to bring them home for refurbishing. I covered up the holes in the deck resulting from the removal of the windlass with plastic sheeting. Having found a head manual online yesterday, I had brought a couple of gallons of pure water to flush down the head to push all the stinkies through the hoses into the holding tank. I did that and a few other minor chores and I was on my way home. As tired as I was when I got home, I had to get the heavy windlass and locker doors down into the basement before the rain arrived, so I found myself still a beast of burden well into the evening.
In order to determine if current was reaching the windlass, I had to remove it from the deck to access the terminals on the bottom. Thanks to its previous removal when the decks were recently redone, it was surprisingly easy. I was thankful that Jessie was experienced enough to know not to use 3M 5200 as the sealant. It is such a strong adhesive that it is impossible to remove something bonded with it without a chisel and saw. 
It didn’t look too bad underneath where the electrical connections were housed, but the meter told me that current was getting past the switch and to the solenoid, so I knew something was wrong with either the solenoid (minor) or the motor (major or even terminal). 
I disconnected the wiring from the supply battery and then from the windlass so I could dismount it and bring it home. The damn thing was just as heavy as the gas-powered emergency pump, so I lowered it to the ground the same way I had the pump two days before.I spent the rest of the day cleaning up, removing old foodstuffs from the galley, and off-loading the loose locker doors to bring them home for refurbishing. I covered up the holes in the deck resulting from the removal of the windlass with plastic sheeting. Having found a head manual online yesterday, I had brought a couple of gallons of pure water to flush down the head to push all the stinkies through the hoses into the holding tank. I did that and a few other minor chores and I was on my way home. As tired as I was when I got home, I had to get the heavy windlass and locker doors down into the basement before the rain arrived, so I found myself still a beast of burden well into the evening.
January 14, 2010
I awoke at 4:30 am, partly due to nervous excitement, and partly to arrive at Napa Valley Marina early in the morning. I knew the yard crew would want to get the boat off-loaded and on the stands right away, and Thomas would want to be on the road as soon as possible. I had heard from the marina that the truck had arrived the previous night after having some brake problems. I had also gotten an email from Thomas telling me he had arrived safe and sound, but had narrowly averted disaster. He said he would tell me about it when I arrived, so I was eager to get the full story and see for myself that Circadian was okay.
As I pulled in the drive at Napa Valley Marina, there was Circadian on the truck, with Thomas removing some of the securing straps. The whole scene was dramatically painted by the light of the rising sun as it burned through the morning fog. Thomas was just the tall, slim Texan I had imagined.
Of course once I saw that Circadian was fine, I had to hear the story of what had happened.
It had been raining as Thomas was going over the notorious Grapevine pass in Southern California. One of his wipers wasn’t working properly, so he stopped to fix it. To access it, he had to move a control bar below the dash that was part of the air brakes system. When he closed up, he failed to move the bar back completely. That caused, unbeknownst to him, one of the brake shoes to drag on a drum on the trailer as he went down the long steep incline. When he heard the distinct bang of a blown tire, he recognized what it was and stopped to investigate. What he found was a left rear brake drum glowing orange hot. It had melted the tire rim, which caused the blowout. It was so hot he was afraid the tires might ignite. If the tires went, everything went. He knew his fire extinguisher would be useless, and frantically tried to find a source of water to cool the drum. He remembered the cooler full of drinking water he carried, and used that to gradually cool the drum. When everything cooled down, he changed the tire, repaired the brake and continued on his way. Disaster averted.
Now that the tale had been told, and questions from curious “yard rats” had been answered, it was time to get to work. The dinghy was put back on its davits, and the mast off-loaded with the crane.
The travel lift straddled the truck and Circadian, and the big lifting straps were threaded under her belly. She was lifted off the truck, and the truck pulled out from under the boat. 
Ten minutes later, Circadian was resting on jack stands in the spot where she would remain for at least the next month or two.
My first priority was to look things over to make sure everything arrived intact and to find the items Cindy and Jessie loaded aboard after I had left for home. The forward cabin stank due to the closed up fridge and the disgusting unidentifiable slime growing in some water in the toilet. I opened all the hatches and tried pumping out the head. When I met some resistance on the pump handle, I decided I better not force it, but should wait until I read a manual to make sure I didn’t blow a hose and create a real disaster. As a stop gap, I poured some Pine Sol into the bowl and covered it with a sheet of plastic. I cleaned the fridge with the Pine Sol and took out all the removable bits for a good soaking in Clorox at home.
When the atmosphere was again breathable, I started surveying the cabin. The only casualty appeared to be the glass chimney and inverted oil burner from the hanging trawler lamp. I bummed a broom and dustpan from the chandlery and cleaned it up. The stripped out aft cabin was stuffed chock-a-block with gear that had been hastily stowed for Circadian’s move. There was barely room to stand inside, but it seemed everything was there. Because it was impossible to get to much of it, I won’t be able to determine just what I’ve got until I clear it out.
I was ready for a break, and it was lunch time, so I headed for my favorite local spot at Cuttings Wharf on the Napa River. No obnoxious wine tourists, good food and a great view. To top it off, there was sun and blue sky for the first time in more than a week. Surprisingly, it was even warm. I was enjoying the meal on the deck and casual conversation with a local architect, a couple who worked in a winery tasting room, an elderly woman from Sonoma, and three dogs, but it was time to get back to work.
Back at the yard, I decided to junk the old and musty, albeit “custom spring,” mattress in the v-berth, jettisoned it unceremoniously over the side, and hauled it to the dumpster. I found the gas-powered high-capacity emergency pump and associated hoses in the aft lazarette. It was a bit rusty, but looked like it might still run. It was also very heavy. Nonetheless, I decided to take it home, both to get it out of the way and to test it at my leisure later. I secured it to some half-inch line, wrestled it to the cap rail, and slowly lowered it the 10 feet to the ground using a belaying technique I had managed to dredge out of my old mountaineering memories. Lugging it to the truck and loading it was just plain grunt work.
I spent the last couple of hours of daylight covering the leaky hatches with the plastic sheeting and duct tape I had brought just for that purpose. I did some final tidying up, locked the companionway doors with new combination locks, and climbed down the ladder carrying a saloon cushion cover that was the victim of spilled oil from the trawler lamp. I took down the ladder and made a last visit to the “facilities” before wearily climbing into the truck for the hour-and-a-half drive home.
As I pulled in the drive at Napa Valley Marina, there was Circadian on the truck, with Thomas removing some of the securing straps. The whole scene was dramatically painted by the light of the rising sun as it burned through the morning fog. Thomas was just the tall, slim Texan I had imagined.
Of course once I saw that Circadian was fine, I had to hear the story of what had happened.It had been raining as Thomas was going over the notorious Grapevine pass in Southern California. One of his wipers wasn’t working properly, so he stopped to fix it. To access it, he had to move a control bar below the dash that was part of the air brakes system. When he closed up, he failed to move the bar back completely. That caused, unbeknownst to him, one of the brake shoes to drag on a drum on the trailer as he went down the long steep incline. When he heard the distinct bang of a blown tire, he recognized what it was and stopped to investigate. What he found was a left rear brake drum glowing orange hot. It had melted the tire rim, which caused the blowout. It was so hot he was afraid the tires might ignite. If the tires went, everything went. He knew his fire extinguisher would be useless, and frantically tried to find a source of water to cool the drum. He remembered the cooler full of drinking water he carried, and used that to gradually cool the drum. When everything cooled down, he changed the tire, repaired the brake and continued on his way. Disaster averted.
Now that the tale had been told, and questions from curious “yard rats” had been answered, it was time to get to work. The dinghy was put back on its davits, and the mast off-loaded with the crane.
The travel lift straddled the truck and Circadian, and the big lifting straps were threaded under her belly. She was lifted off the truck, and the truck pulled out from under the boat. 
Ten minutes later, Circadian was resting on jack stands in the spot where she would remain for at least the next month or two.
My first priority was to look things over to make sure everything arrived intact and to find the items Cindy and Jessie loaded aboard after I had left for home. The forward cabin stank due to the closed up fridge and the disgusting unidentifiable slime growing in some water in the toilet. I opened all the hatches and tried pumping out the head. When I met some resistance on the pump handle, I decided I better not force it, but should wait until I read a manual to make sure I didn’t blow a hose and create a real disaster. As a stop gap, I poured some Pine Sol into the bowl and covered it with a sheet of plastic. I cleaned the fridge with the Pine Sol and took out all the removable bits for a good soaking in Clorox at home.
When the atmosphere was again breathable, I started surveying the cabin. The only casualty appeared to be the glass chimney and inverted oil burner from the hanging trawler lamp. I bummed a broom and dustpan from the chandlery and cleaned it up. The stripped out aft cabin was stuffed chock-a-block with gear that had been hastily stowed for Circadian’s move. There was barely room to stand inside, but it seemed everything was there. Because it was impossible to get to much of it, I won’t be able to determine just what I’ve got until I clear it out.
I was ready for a break, and it was lunch time, so I headed for my favorite local spot at Cuttings Wharf on the Napa River. No obnoxious wine tourists, good food and a great view. To top it off, there was sun and blue sky for the first time in more than a week. Surprisingly, it was even warm. I was enjoying the meal on the deck and casual conversation with a local architect, a couple who worked in a winery tasting room, an elderly woman from Sonoma, and three dogs, but it was time to get back to work.
Back at the yard, I decided to junk the old and musty, albeit “custom spring,” mattress in the v-berth, jettisoned it unceremoniously over the side, and hauled it to the dumpster. I found the gas-powered high-capacity emergency pump and associated hoses in the aft lazarette. It was a bit rusty, but looked like it might still run. It was also very heavy. Nonetheless, I decided to take it home, both to get it out of the way and to test it at my leisure later. I secured it to some half-inch line, wrestled it to the cap rail, and slowly lowered it the 10 feet to the ground using a belaying technique I had managed to dredge out of my old mountaineering memories. Lugging it to the truck and loading it was just plain grunt work.
I spent the last couple of hours of daylight covering the leaky hatches with the plastic sheeting and duct tape I had brought just for that purpose. I did some final tidying up, locked the companionway doors with new combination locks, and climbed down the ladder carrying a saloon cushion cover that was the victim of spilled oil from the trawler lamp. I took down the ladder and made a last visit to the “facilities” before wearily climbing into the truck for the hour-and-a-half drive home.
January 12, 2010
Thomas sends me pictures from outside of Tuscon. No snow. 
He expects to arrive in Napa (the final destination) on Thursday, January 14 th.
He expects to arrive in Napa (the final destination) on Thursday, January 14 th.
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