I thought about simply playing these photos like a montage. I believe it will tell the story just fine. It’s easy to see what happened, how I tried to fix it with only the most permanent marine adhesive known to man,
and how epicly (that’s a word today) it failed. Let’s see how far we get. Let this play in the background:
Then: “Roll that fabulous footage!”
Now, here’s where things get interesting. (Not to say that busting out the 5200 to try and glue your cheap, Chinese-made wedge heels back together isn’t interesting─especially considering the three dental picks we demolished trying to punch through the dried glob in the neck of the tube and all the white sticky streaks I got on my hands, nails and hair in the process (yes, something AGAIN in my hair). But, it gets even better …
Once I stuck the shoe flap to the wedge bottom, I then thought it would be good to stand on it to maintain the pressure while I worked on the second shoe. But, standing in a shoe is not something you really think about, it’s just something you do. Every time you wear a shoe, you’re standing in it. It’s like looking at your watch─you always turn your wrist to do it, without really thinking about it. And, what do you often do when you’re standing? You shift around! Not three seconds after I stood on the shoe did I pick my foot up to take a small step to shift my weight. There goes that cup of coffee in your lap as you check your watch. I did it without even thinking about it. And that 5200 must take more than three seconds to dry, because the wedge bottom remained planted on the floor while my glue-covered sole came up and planted back down on the teak. Yikes!
Let’s just say the Captain was not pleased.
Thankfully I stopped myself short and barely touched down, but the toppling of the wedge and my teensy toe touch did result in some 5200 on the cabin floor. Many more yikeses!
With some quick wipe action, we were able to get it up, but can you imagine explaining a shoeprint of 5200 on the floor to all newcomers on the boat? “Uhhh, yeah, that’s from when I tried to glue my crap shoes back together with super-bondo-death adhesive. Just ignore it.”
What a mess. And, what a waste! Sadly, the floor-toppling incident lead to a hideous amount of 5200 on the actual “pretty” part of the shoe which I’m sure would have never come off. I had given it a hearty go, but it was time to scrap it. These shoes would never be boogeying again!
And, I’m not sure I’ll ever “bust out” the 5200 to glue anything again either. Trying to get some fresh glue out of the tube was a nightmare. We had only used that tube once before. It costs $20.00 and you only get one use?! Bollucks! A fellow boater recommended to me to keep the tube in the freezer in between uses, so we’re going to try that next time. But, beyond that, it’s Butyl tape for me. Yes … even on the shoes!
Thanks to my Patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
I know it every time I hear it. The gurgling sound it makes is unmistakable. It’s like Shrek slurping soup or swamp stew or whatever it is ogres eat. Sllooo-gurgle, gurgle-oop! Phillip is working the Thirsty Mate again on the dinghy. We keep a small one in the dinghy bag for just such an occasion. But every time we would pump the bottom out, it wasn’t but a few hours later and we had another two inches of water back in it. We knew it was time to do a bottom job on the dinghy. What we didn’t know was how many patches it would take and where the duct tape would end up.
And, you might be thinking: duct tape?! Are they seriously trying to patch their dinghy bottom with duct tape? Amateurs! Alright, we didn’t try to patch with duct tape, although they do say cruising knowledge comes from experience! We went and got the fancy hyphalon patch kit from West Marine, where everything costs $12.00 more. We just used the duct tape to mark the location of the leaks─during our first attempt at patching. But, how it ended up where it ended up, I can’t tell you.
Our initial idea for finding the leaks was to fill the dinghy with water and lift the bow while the other member of the Patch Team kneeled below to look for leaks. Then we repeated the same process with the stern, with each Team member serving once as lifter and once as kneel-and-pointer to ensure double inspection. We then marked the leaks we found with a sliver of duct tape.
We located four leaks but two were close together so they could be covered by one patch.
Once the locations were marked, we set to laying three patches.
Now, anyone notice anything out of place here?
Not yet? Okay, we’ll continue.
The patch kit mandated we “rough up” each patch area on the dinghy as well as the patch itself to ensure good adhesion. We then had to apply a thin layer of the magic glue to each and let it dry for twenty minutes.
Gluing is such fun!
We had to repeat this process twice, letting three layers of glue on both the patch and affected area dry for twenty minutes (so, a one-hour project total) before we could stick the patches on and let them dry for twenty-four hours.
It wasn’t until we wrapped her up for the night that we found the missing piece of duct tape. Did you spot it?
‘Twas in mee hair! [And, yes, I always employ a colloquial Irish accent to note the discovery of things in my hair.]
We were hopeful my hair hadn’t snagged an all-important leak mark but if it had, the damage was done. The three patches were on and drying for the night, so we would find out tomorrow. We came back the next day to repeat our fill-lift-kneel program (patent pending, for leak detection.
Despite our promising patch efforts, we were disheartened to find a few more leaks. Perhaps it was due to my snatchy hair. Personally, I think we needed supervision.
Cue Dan─our dock neighbor and purveyor of all solutions obvious.
He is wise with the drink.
Dan had the great idea to set the dinghy up on two dock boxes so it would sit flat and even while we filled it to look, yet again, for leaks.
That Dan, he’s a smart one. Using his method, we found many more leaks.
There were so much easier to spot with the dinghy up overhead and with sufficient time to allow and watch each droplet form. Can you see them here?
There are two leaks forming.
We located each leak and marked it, this time, with a Sharpie circle─way more effective than the duct tape. Sorry old friend.
Try to guess how many leaks we found!
Sheesh! This called for another three rounds of glue-and-wait─this time with eleven patches. While it may not be a dozen, the song is still fitting. Here, sing along while I work:
I cut the larger patches into smaller ones to stretch our hyphalon repair kit as far as it would go. The magic marine stuff gets expensive quick!
Another hour of gluing and drying (such fun!) and the patches were on─all eleven of them.
We did another fill-and-kneel test (this time using the advantage of the dock boxes – thanks Dan!) the following day and things looked good. We’ve taken her out one time since this patch job and all seems to be holding well … so far. I haven’t yet heard any ogre-slurping from the Thirsty Mate. We’ll let you guys know how she holds up. Hopefully she’ll last another “Eighteen years and a dozen islands … ”
Have any of you been dealing with a leaky dinghy? Got any thoughts on a better way to repair? We’ve also been thinking about trying out one of those Port-a-Botes. We’ve been seeing more and more of them around. Any thoughts or pros and cons on those? Feel free to share.
Thanks to my Patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
As good as that stuff is (tis me!), that’s not the really “great stuff.” We’ll get there.
So, we had been having a little trouble with our fridge for quite some time. Beads of condensation would form around the lid during the hot summer months and we were always battling a thick wall of ice that would form on the freezer after 4-5 days, which told us we had an air leak around the lid. We bloggled™ it and tried some commonly recommended cruiser remedies–a yoga mat on top of the fridge lid, a solar blanket inside the fridge, etc., which helped some but made access to the fridge a bit trickier and noisier. (The solar blanket was a complete crinkle fest!) This also did not slow the ice ring around the freezer, which was forcing us to empty the entire fridge and defrost it after every weekend trip. That was the real hassle, but, this was just for our condensation problem.
Knowing the fridge was likely going to be our next boat project, we threw a handy, dandy little fridge thermometer in during our Bon Buffett Voyage to see if we had a temp problem as well. Sadly, our suspicions were confirmed. It seemed our beloved fridge was struggling to maintain “fridge temp” (35-38 degrees Farenheit). Honestly, though, I wish we had never gotten that dastardly thermometer. Perhaps our chilled items weren’t quite 38 degrees, but they were perfectly chilled for me. We never had anything spoil before it’s time and we never got sick from any insufficiently-refrigerated poultry, so why mess with a good thing? “Because you want to catch a problem before it arises,” Phillip tells me. But, I’m still on the “if it ain’t broke,” wagon …
But, when we started monitoring the temps in the fridge, it was pretty appalling. We usually would click our fridge back on 24 hours before we planned to stock it for an outing. 24 hours later it always felt chilly, had a bit of ice forming already on the freezer, so we would throw in our provisions, thinking we were good to go. That is, until we started in with this whole thermometer business. With the thermometer in there, we learned even after 24 hours of running, the fridge would only get down to about 50 degrees. Yes, fifty. That made even me a little nervous.
So, we called in a professional. Cue Bill Nye the Fridge Guy. (Okay, that’s not his real name, I just like calling him that). It’s Bill Costello with Sea Air Marine and he’s awesome. He came highly recommended by several of our boat buddies as the most trusted marine fridge guy around, so we were happy to have him and his son come aboard and take a look.
He checked the temp in the fridge with a super handy laser thermometer.
Whatever you shoot the beam at, it registers the temperature. I wish he would have let me borrow that. I would have spent the afternoon taking the temperature of my eyeballs, tonsils and toenails. I wondered if the ricochet beam off the mirror would register temp. I was captivated by that little contraption.
Then Bill pulled out his wizard machine!
This was equally fascinating. You watch the bubbles in the cylinder to determine the level of freon in the fridge and how much freon has been added. Our fridge only holds 4 ounces of freon, and Bill, with his magic machine, determined two ounces needed to be added. Meaning, our fridge was running on half the freon needed to cool it. Bill advised that amount could have been lost over a long period time (we have no idea when the freon level in the fridge was last checked) or we could have a freon leak. He told us we would know we had a freon leak if the fridge still struggled to hold temp after he added the additional two ounces. We were hopeful Bill’s bubbles and lasers solved our temp problem, but we also wanted to fix our condensation problem as well. What was Bill’s suggestion?
Great Stuff.
Bill said he had seen this issue a lot when the top of the fridge is not sealed well to the cavity (or the seal has deteriorated over time), this causes an air leak around the seam. He suggested we spray some Great Stuff along the seam to stop the air leak. It sounded simple. It was anything but. To even see the seam, you essentially have to get inside the fridge and look up. And that’s just seeing it. That speaks nothing of actually aiming and spraying foam into it.
We followed the instructions on the spray can:
HANDLE RESPONSIBLY. PLAN, PREPARE, PRACTICE.
After running a quick practice line of foam on a paper towel, I set to it.
The seams where I could actually get halfway into the fridge to do the spraying were easier. The ones along the port side of the boat required some wicked circus bending that I’m pretty sure ripped my pancreas.
It took some maneuvering, but I finally got a solid bead around the seam. It wasn’t pretty, but I doubt any air will be getting through.
I’m lucky I didn’t get any of that stuff in my hair. I’m sure it would have to be cut out. That would not be so “great.” Phillip somehow managed to get some on the ceiling. Don’t ask.
Thankfully, we managed only a few extra swipes and puffs of Great Stuff in places we didn’t intend in the fridge, but I don’t think they’re going to affect our enjoyment of any chilled items. If anything, I take comfort knowing we’ve always got some great stuff in there!
And, we accomplished the fridge project just in time for another trip over to Pirate’s Cove. This time in full costume. Next up, a swashbuckling rapscallion adventure. Stay tuned!
Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
I’ll bet you’re curious now, as I get ready to divulge my secret negligee habits. Do I always keep a few lacy numbers stowed away in the v-berth? Or just pack a pretty pair for special occasions? Truth is, I keep one key piece of lingerie on the boat at all times and use it every night we sleep in the v-berth. What piece you might ask? We’ll get there!
First, we have to talk about the sheets. While the Captain and I don’t like to readily admit this, it’s sad but true. Since we bought the boat back in 2013, we had been using the same tired out v-berth sheet the previous owners had used. It was a regular flat cotton sheet, threadbare from years of wash and wear, that was simply cut in a few places to help it “fit” around our oddly-shaped v-berth mattress.
That’s it. Isn’t she a beauty?
This nice ratty slit here was where we tucked it on either side to fit around the indention at the head of our mattress.
Real fancy-like. And, I hate to say, as long as we used that thing on the boat, letting it stare Phillip and I straight in the eye the second we stepped down the companionway stairs and scream to any newcomer aboard–“Hey! Check out our old, ratty sheets!”–I never really captured a good picture of it. I guess if you don’t really like the way something looks, you’re not really inclined to photograph it. This was the best I could find.
Notice how it’s all bunched up in places and how that ratty tear sits right in blaring view? No matter how many times I would pull and tuck and pull and tuck, the sheet would always work itself back into bunches and split at that tear, revealing a big hunk of bright, yellow memory foam and our old grandma’s couch upholstery (which you can see on the settee cushions in the picture above). When we had the upholstery on the boat re-done back in 2013, we only did the saloon settees and the aft-berth, not the v-berth, figuring it’s always covered with the sheet, so why bother?
Well, bother we didn’t. For years. We just kept washing and tucking and pulling and cursing that tired blue sheet until we decided enough was enough. It was time to get some new sheets. And, having gone several years with the low-rent slit-and-tuck routine, we wanted to have a set expertly fitted to our v-berth mattress. I got a few recommendations for boat bed tailors from friends and finally got a drapery gal on the phone who claimed to have some experience tailoring fitted sheets for v-berths. We took some measurements of our mattress and I sketched out a pretty good mockup of our mattress for her.
After review, she said we should buy two king flat sheets (just in case one wasn’t enough) and she would create one fitted sheet out of those that would fit our v-berth mattress to a tee. The drapery gal said she would need the mattresses to do it, though, to be sure the fit was right, and she expected it would cost around $50.00 in labor. Not bad, we thought, other than the somewhat tedious mattress haul-out, but, aside from trying to do the sheet tailoring ourselves, it seemed to be the only option. So, our next mission was to find some sheets.
Now, I would like to say that we did some research, poked around on some other cruising blogs and forums to find out which sheets really perform best in a marine environment. But, we didn’t. We just went to Bed, Bath & Beyond one day and started meandering around. Phillip at least knew he wanted to try to find a high performance, synthetic blend as opposed to 100% cotton, to reduce moisture and odor retention, in other words, the wet and stinky factor. Knowing very little about their reputation in the boating realm, we stumbled upon this Sheex brand that peaked our curiosity. They were synthetic, durable and felt like cool silk. We zipped open a package and couldn’t stop fondling them. The product insert also showed they were engineered to meet all of the Captain’s high performance points.
And, with a marketing pitch like this, they were hitting all of my high performance points, too.
I was really starting to wonder about the power of these sheets …
Most importantly, though, for whatever reason, on the day that we decided to pop into Bed, Bath & Beyond, the Sheex sets were 40% off. How fortuitous! We snagged a complete king set (flat and fitted sheets and two pillow cases) which typically would have been over $200 for around $130. And, I was pleased to find after our purchase that the Sheex brand seems to be a pretty proven bedding product among boaters — Cruising World Sheex article HERE. Score! The stars were really lining up for us on this sheets project. I couldn’t wait to get them to the boat to try them out. My head was filled with visions of Phillip and I drifting away on cool, silky dreams.
“How do you like the new sheets, Annie?”
Why they’re just dreamy, Captain. Positively dreamy.”
I decided I couldn’t wait on drapery gal to see just how heavenly the new sheets would feel on the boat. I had to whip them out for a test run, and I’m glad I did. When I pulled out the fitted sheet on the boat, I noticed the elastic fitted rim went all the way around the entire sheet, not just at the four corners. I started to think it might just fit on its own without any need for an involved and costly tailor job. Even better! I tucked and pulled and stretched the fitted sheet around, hoping for a small miracle, and I have to say, I got real close.
The sheet stretched out smoothly everywhere except for the one oddly-placed indention at the head. This one nagging little setback was ruining my whole dreamy vision. I just needed something to pull the excess flap taut at this point to make it work.
Of all the things we have troubleshooted and repaired on the boat, surely this was going to be an easy fix–just one little cinch point. I went back to my old bag of tricks and started running through various hot-glue and staple options in my mind. I kept thinking if I could just attach an elastic strap to the flappy part that would pull underneath and fasten to a button or hook or something, that would do the trick. I was confident I could do this! I didn’t need drapery gal or her magic sewing contraption. I could do this! I mulled over it, stewed on it, even dreamed about it, and then it came to me — lingerie! The minute the idea struck me, I couldn’t wait to get back to the boat to try it out. I took my one little key “piece” with me and set to it.
Shhhh … don’t tell Captain! I’m going to surprise him with lingerie on the boat!
So, what was the key piece? The stretchy little clip-fasten device that I was sure was going to save our dreamy day?
A garter clip!
Yep, this little guy. I mean, he’s designed on one end to attach to hosiery without damaging it. I figured that he would probably be able to do the same with Sheex. Why not, right? Plus, he’s stretchy and even has a hook already built in on the other end. The grandma’s couch upholstery on the underside of our v-berth mattress has a lot of thick threading that I was sure a little bra hook could latch onto. If not, there was the plastic webbed mold-prevention underlining that I could try to hook to as well. All things that were already there on the boat, just waiting to be utilized. So, I gave it a shot —
Just cinch and pull,
then hook underneath, and
Voila!
A little bit of expert ruching and bunching and I thought it looked just about intentional. Better than drapery gal could do I was sure of it! I mean, look at that custom Sheex bedding!
And, it all was made possible with a little piece of lingerie! Thank you Monica Midnight for your vixen-like and versatile lingerie line!
How about you all? Any of you out there a fan of the Sheex? Or, have come up with some fancy bedding fixtures of your own? Do tell!
And, thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
Okay, so it was $3.76 after tax, but the part–the one itsy bitsy, tiny little part that made our whole engine run–was three dollars and forty-nine cents.
How long did it take us to figure that out? I’d like to say it was only three hours and forty-nine minutes. That would have been great, but it wasn’t. It took weeks ….
If you recall, we were having occasional trouble getting our engine to crank after we installed and began using the new flexible solar panels on the bimini.
Our “boat buddy focus group” surmised that perhaps the solar input from the panels was confusing the alternator and causing it not to re-charge the starting battery while we were motoring. For this reason, we installed two handy on/off switches in the aft berth locker to turn the panels off while we were motoring in (HIGH!) hopes it would prevent the alleged “alternator confusion.”
Apparently, though, our alternator isn’t the brightest part on the boat. Sometimes it was confused; sometimes it was not. The frustrating part was that the problem was intermittent. Sometimes the engine would crank fine, other times it would not–inexplicably. Like when you take your car to the shop so the mechanic can hear that ominous “clunking” sound and it won’t make it. Bullocks!
The next time we took the boat out (after the on/off switches were installed and after we had turned them “off” while we were motored), and the engine again would not crank to bring us home, the Captain decided he’d had enough. “We’re going to fix it today,” he said bright and early one Saturday morning, and I knew he wouldn’t stop until we had. We donned some cloaks and pipes and decided to really roll up our sleeves to solve this mystery.
What’s the best way to start troubleshooting?
Start taking crap apart!
We traced every wire from the:
1. Engine to the alternator,
2. The alternator to the combiner (the device that decides which batteries (the house bank or the starting battery) need and get a charge from the engine),
3. The combiner to the starting battery,
4. The starting battery to the battery switch plate (where we turn on the batteries we want to use — house, starting or both combined, which is what we had been required to do when the starting battery alone wouldn’t allow us to crank),
And finally:
5. The switch plate to the starter.
Everything seemed to look good. None of the wires were corroded, split or compromised and the connections looked solid. We couldn’t understand why our seemingly “good” starting battery was not starting the engine. If it was the battery, that was going to be a couple hundred bucks to replace, which was a better prospect than the alternator. So, we decided to have the battery checked yet again. We disconnected it and hauled it to three different battery-check places (Auto Zone and the like), where every time a highly-qualified battery specialist would come out and hook his or her little gismo machine up to our battery to run the necessary gismo calculations.
I felt like I was watching Al from Quantum Leap bang around on his Ziggy handheld. Beep, bo-dum, boomp.
Each time, though (and three times total), the little Ziggy gismos came back showing our starting battery was good.
And, I’m not sure what “EXP DECISION” means exactly other than “Expert Decision.” I guess if they’re the alleged “experts,” (particularly when the consensus was the same among all of them), there’s really no reason to question it.
So, we hauled our alleged “good” battery back to the boat still stumped by our crank problem. We decided to replace the ring connectors on each end of the positive and negative wires to the battery just for good measure, and that’s when we discovered it.
When Phillip was putting the post terminal connector back on the negative post he noticed it was loose. No matter how hard he tried to tighten down on the nut, the connector couldn’t seem to achieve stable contact with the post.
Apparently, it had been so worn from age, jostling and electric current that the center of the ring had been (for lack of a better word) eroded out so that no matter how tight we cranked the nut down on the bolt, you still couldn’t get a good, solid connection, particularly when it was lowered onto the post one way as opposed to flipped over and put on the other way. By some stroke of luck, Phillip had put it back on the “other way” this time, which revealed the loose connection. That’s when we had our Aha! moment. We dropped everything and headed back to Auto Zone.
“One post terminal connection, please.”
Three dollars and forty-nine cents later, we were mounting a snug new connector on the negative post certain this was going to be the easiest and cheapest fix we could have imagined.
And, what happened next?
Mmmhhh-hmmm. A mighty fine crank indeed! We could tell instantly from the solid *CLICK* of the glow plugs that our starting battery was finally cranking out some solid juice. Our engine roared to life!
Now, why share this? A simple post terminal connector replacement? (Something we likely should have found pretty quickly.) Because sometimes you just can’t see the simple fix initially. With the new solar panels and the MPPT charge controllers, the new on/off switches and suspected alternator confusion, we were thinking the problem had to be more complicated. But, lesson learned. Most of the systems on the boat really are simple when you break them down and dissect them. You just have to remember to “think simply” when troubleshooting. I’ll never forget when we were trying to tell this ten-minute story to our buddy, Bottom-Job Brandon, and not three sentences in, he says:
“D’you check your post connectors?”
Sharp guy, that Brandon (but a total story killer!). Good thing I have a captive audience here! Ha!
In all, we were pleased with the simple $3.49 fix (not counting our “labor” which I felt we earned the “loss” on for having overlooked something so basic — a boat will humble you real quick). And, with the problem solved, the afternoon remaining and the wind picking up, we decided it was high time for a reward. A last-minute run to the beach that day offered up one of our best impromptu kite sessions of the year against one of the most exquisite sunsets I have ever seen.
That’s the thing about sailing, though, living near the water, which can be deadly one minute and overwhelmingly serene the next, and owning a boat. You can start the day out cramped, coated in gunk and sweat and cursing everything about your bleeping boat, but once the project is complete, the accomplishment of it serves as your unparalleled reward and wipes away all of your previous frustration. Suddenly the job is done and the day is still young. Suddenly, nothing can bother you. Life is still, and always will be, good.
Many thanks to the patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
After our racy rendezvous with the Sundowner crew in NOLA we were itching to get back out on our boat. Now that we had our slick solar panels installed and (presumably) working, it was time to take them out for a test run, and what better time than the Pensacola Blue Angels Homecoming Show in November! Several of our boat buddies were planning to get out for it, too, so it was quickly decided we would all get together for a massive raft-up. We were five-deep at the Fort baby!
From left to right:
1. s/v Edelweiss, a well-kept 34′ Sabre, is often packed to the brim with the Armanis — two veterinarians with (now) three little ones in tow. Did anyone call for a doctor?
2. s/v WindWalker, a 38′ Morgan, belongs to our trusted diesel engine mechanic, Johnny Walker (yes, that’s really his name, feel free to make all the associated Jim Bean, Jack Daniels jokes you’d like – he’s used to it), and his beautiful wife, Cindy. (While this is my absolute favorite picture of Johnny and Cindy, don’t doubt it, rain, shine or cold – these two are always smiling!)
3. 5 O’Clock, a 45′ Gulfstar, being the largest boat in the bunch often plays the role of “mothership” and is Captained by the only and only (you know this guy, he’s practically a celebrity in our world), Bottom-Job Brandon! His rocking wife Christine and their (now) two little salty sailors round out the Hall crew.
4. s/v Plaintiff’s Rest and it’s fine-looking crew need no introduction, really. Admit it, it’s only the best-looking boat in the bunch.
5. And, last but certainly not least, s/v Pan Dragon, a classic 36′ Pearson, is the pride and joy of our Broker-turned-Boat Buddy, Kevin, along with his incredibly entertaining wife, Laura, and their (now) two little ones seen here doing what they love to do — just “hang around” on the boat.
I will say Phillip and I are exceptionally lucky to have fallen into such a fine group of sailing comrades when we purchased our boat back in 2013. All of these Captains are sharp, talented sailors, each with a different area of expertise and each having proven their willingness time and again to help us out when we’ve found ourselves faced with a difficult boat project, and vice versa. It’s also great to see the lot of them (which with all of the “nows” you might have recognized has recently grown – three new additions in 2015 alone!) get their boats out just about every weekend they are able with the whole crawling/cradle crew in tow. I wouldn’t trust myself to keep a potted plant alive on the boat and here they bring their actual living, breathing, arms-and-legs munchkins aboard and show us all it can (and should) be done. Families can cruise too. They’re really impressive.
Having all five of us lined up for this phenomenal weekend was a pretty epic feat. But, when the Blue Angels come home, folks in Pensacola tend to get together for the event. And, because the Blue Angels fly over their home base, the Pensacola Naval Air Station, for the homecoming show, we knew we would be right under the flight path anchored out near Ft. McRae.
Here comes one now! Zzzwweeehhhhh!
See? They flew right over us! I kept trying to snap a cool shot of them coming by the boat but they kept breaking up, zipping around, looping and coming out of nowhere. Those suckers are fast! (And loud.)
After about 84 missed shots (give or take), I finally caught them right where I wanted them. Just overhead. Check out the money shot! BOOM.
Hull No. 193, baby! That’s us! It looks like they’re only 20 feet above our mast. While I can assure you, they are much higher, it doesn’t sound or feel like it when you’re watching them zip overhead. Zwweeehhhh!!
(Thank (and like) the Blue Angels Facebook team for the wicked pics!)
The show was jaw-dropping. “Hold on to your drink, Cap’n!”
First Mate rockin’ the rubbers!
They even put on an evening show (which they had not done in years) at the Naval Air Station. We could catch glimpses of it (and hear the roar of the flaming big rig) from our boats.
In all, it was an incredible weekend spent out on the boat with an amazing group of friends.
And, best of all, the solar panels performed beautifully. While we felt good about the Velcro adhesion, just to be safe I had taken some time back at the dock to manually stitch the panels on through their corner grommets with some green sail twine.
You can see it on the corners here:
Those flat little panels were expensive! While it was highly unlikely, I wasn’t going to risk them flying off in some heavy winds. They also proved extremely productive during our weekend out, pumping in (just about as we had expected) approximately 8 amps/hour.
It was truly gratifying to watch our amp hours go DOWN during the day. We were definitely pleased with the input and thrilled with the results of a long and tedious project. Life was good … for a brief moment. I swear that dern boat likes to toy with us sometimes. Right when you think everything is running smoothly and everything about boating is awesome, the boat likes to throw a little wrench in things just to, you know, keep you guessing. After our amazing weekend out on the boat, we woke Sunday to an awe-inspiring sky, sipped on coffee and decided we would ease the anchor up about mid-morning to enjoy a beautiful sail home.
That was the plan anyway, until we tried to crank the engine and ——— Nothing, nada, flat line. We couldn’t even get a click to turn the glow plugs on. Our starting battery was completely dead. The boat seemed to think it was funny.
It’s not funny, boat.
Luckily, on our boat, we can flip a switch to combine the house batteries with the starting battery, in situations like this, to pull from the house bank in order to crank the engine. It’s not really good for the house batteries because they’re intended primarily for deep cycle use, but if you’ve got to crank, you’ve got to crank. So, that’s what we did, and she started right up, which was a good sign. That meant it wasn’t an engine problem just a battery problem, but it was still baffling. What gives, boat?
Thankfully, we had a whole host of boat friends nearby to help us run through some things and troubleshoot. Assuming our starting battery was still good (which, being only a year old, it was pretty safe to assume it was) the primary difference was the solar panels. Once installed, they were essentially “on” all the time. Meaning, any time they panels were in the sunlight, they were pumping in juice. While the MPPT charge controllers regulate the influx of power to make sure the house batteries do not get overwhelmed by the solar input, one option kicked around the group was the possibility that the solar input may have overwhelmed the alternator and caused it not to re-charge the starting battery while we were motoring over to the Fort on Friday.
Back home, we took the starting battery the following week to several different Auto Zone type places to have it tested, and each time it passed with flying colors. The battery was good. That left the panels. We decided to install switches under the aft locker next to the MPPT charge controllers to allow us to turn the panels off when we were running under engine power so as not to confuse the alternator and allow our starting battery to re-charge.
It was a pretty simple job and (we hoped) would be a pretty easy fix to our crank problem. The next couple of times she cranked fine, and we were sure to turn the panels off when we were under motor and turn them back on again once we killed the engine if we wanted solar input. Life was good again. Until …
Yes, again. Such are the joys of owning a boat. Seemingly randomly, after several times cranking without incident, the minute we had some family in town and invited them out on the boat for a beautiful, brisk day sail, she wouldn’t crank. It was clear we
had a serious boat battery mystery to solve. And, I swear the boat thought it was funny.
It’s not funny, boat.
Captain Sherlock and I were hot on the case. It simply had to be “elementary.”
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This is it. The drums beat — Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Brdrdrdrd, bum-bum. (Then the trumpets come in) Duh, duh-nuh-nuh! Okay, that is supposed to mimic the dramatic 20th Century Fox movie intro.
If you heard me sing it (yes, I sing both drum and trumpet), you would recognize it immediately. But, don’t worry, you’ll get the privilege. It’s all waiting for you, in the big REVEAL!
Throughout the solar panel project, we’d spent many an irksome evening at the boat, running wires to check length, holding gizmos in place to make sure they fit and were actually the best place for mounting, etc. We had even invited some boat buddies over to run things through with us before we actually started drilling holes and, you know, making things permanent (oooohhhh … scary). Being the great boat friends they are (and loving any excuse to get to mess around on a boat), Kevin and Brandon gladly pitched in and helped us double-check everything and make sure we didn’t burn the boat down during this whole solar install business.
As I mentioned, we had to install two MPPT charge controllers (which I now understood to be the devices that control the amount of “juice” coming in from the solar panels to make sure they don’t overload the house batteries–kind of like a flow regulator if you will). After pondering several potential locations, we finally decided to mount our MPPT controllers (two – one for the large 100 watt panel and another for the two 50-watt panels combined) in a locker under the aft berth, right by the nav station.
This way, they remained down below, protected from the elements, but were fairly easy to access to check the wires, make sure juice was coming in, etc. Well, fairly easy once mounted …
Those circus skills were still coming in handy. But, we did eventually get them mounted and wired side-by-side in the aft berth locker:
Then, all we had to do was run wires from the panels below deck to these controllers, and then from these controllers to the house battery bank in the bilge. Simple, right? You might be starting to sense a pattern here. Generally, when I say something is going to be “simple,” or “easy,” it turns out to be anything but. I’m sitting here trying to think what would be the opposite of a ‘piece of cake.’ A bowl of barley perhaps? Much harder to process and not near as much fun to do.
We decided to run the wires from the panels flush down a pole on the bimini frame, cut one hole through the deck on the outside of the cockpit coaming for entry, then lead them through the engine room, into the aft berth locker to the charge controllers, then under the floorboards to the house batteries.
You see? Barley. Not cake.
And, everywhere the wires went, Annie was sure to go!
Once we got the panels connected to the charge controllers and the charge controllers connected to the batteries, it was time to see if we had some juice coming in.
And the survey says …
DING! That second little green light on the left tells us everything we need to know. Power is coming in baby! Feels like a shot of B12. BOOM!
Yes, it is that exciting. When you spend weeks on a project, pore over reviews, online forums and product descriptions, cramp yourself in dirty, oily places running wires and fumble with the tiniest of screws in the hardest to reach places, that little green light that comes on and tells you it’s working–all of your hard work is working … you feel about like that. Like you could bust up a hard-core gangster in a fight. Take that!
Once we knew everything was working correctly, it was time to do it for real, i.e., actually cut the wires to length, run and affix them where they would actually go (which meant cutting a hole in the deck) and seal everything into place. You know, really make it final. * Gulp *
We ziptied all of the wires around the panels as neatly as we could and ran them down through the hole in the bimini canvas where the backstay protrudes.
While our boat buddies (being a bit more confident in our rig-it-up skills than we) encouraged us to go at it alone, when it came time to actually drill a hole in the deck, we enlisted our buddy Bottom-Job Brandon to help us make sure it was placed, cut and sealed correctly. Having lived and worked on boats nearly all of his adult life, Brandon through his company, Perdido Sailor, Inc., has the solid reputation of always “over-doing” a job, meaning doing it the right way not the easy way. When you’ve got a friend like that, it just makes sense to have him look over your shoulder on projects like this to make sure you don’t make stupid, can’t-be-undone mistakes.
Brandon made sure the hole was placed in a part of the deck that wouldn’t cause additional crazing or cracking and that the fitting was the right size to ensure a watertight seal to prevent water intrusion.
I supervised.
I had to shut my eyes, though, when Brandon actually fired the drill up. I mean, he was about to put a hole in our boat. Intentionally! Close ’em … Squeeze ’em tight … Whrrreeerrrrr
Thankfully, Brandon was quick and merciful. A few seconds, and then it was done.
Brandon also had the good idea to run the four wires (a positive and negative from each of our “two” panels) through a large heat-shrink wrap to protect them from the elements and make one nice, clean black “wire” to run down the bimini frame and through the hole in the deck.
Voila!
Now, the panels were secure, the wires were run, everything was officially (and permanently) in place, hooked up, mounted and operating. It was actually impressive to see how sleek and slim our installation job turned out to be. The panels and wires were almost unnoticeable.
Looking at the before-and-after, you kind of have to squint and cock your head to the left to actually notice the panels:
Didn’t see them? You have to cock to the left. It doesn’t work when you do it to the right.
In all, we were incredibly pleased with the job. The panels were streamline, virtually unnoticeable, mounted, wired and (most importantly) working! And, not counting our own labor, research and toil (which as the owners is expected but, thankfully, free!), we were in the whole thing for about a grand and a six-pack of well-earned brewskies for our boat buddies for helping us out with it. Not too shabby considering this will give us, likely, another 2 to 2.5 half days on the hook and prolong the life of our hard-working diesel engine. Easily worth it in our book.
So, having slapped ourselves on the back and considered the job well done, it was time to finally peel back the plastic from the panels and film for your viewing pleasure a cheesy yet hard-earned SOLAR PANEL REVEAL!
Cue the intro again. The drums beat — Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Brdrdrdrd, bum-bum. (Then the trumpets come in) Duh, duh-nuh-nuh!
And, it just so happened, around the same time, I finished choreographing my first aerial silks routine for performance and had filmed it for review. Do know my super-talented silks instructor, Garrett, just jumped in for fun to perform it with me and was just following me along (yes, he makes it look that good just “winging it”). So, to wrap up this silks-and-solar bonanza, I give you – MY FIRST SILKS ROUTINE. Enjoy!
Next up, we take this show on the road! A raucous trip to NOLA involving more aerial acrobatics, chains, whips and an unlikely encounter with another blogging couple you may know well … I can’t give it all away! Stay tuned!
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Grommets, snaps, witch stitchery … Now that we had our solar panels and knew where we wanted to put them, we were debating all the different ways you can possibly attach them. I kept trying to break out the old hot glue gun, and Phillip kept vetoing it (for good reason). After some debate and research, we finally decided on Velcro. I was thrilled with the decision. I love velcrow. Back in the day, it was all I wore! Who wants to waste time tying laces when you can rock those Velcro flap shoes?
Nailed it! (Me and the Bro always brought it at the annual Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon Fiesta).
I considered myself a bit of a whiz with the Velcro. I had used it often to rig up nifty little things on the boat. You recall the Chair-Wow and my various Velcro/hot glue creations:
Velcrow for the solar panels was going to work just fine. So, we got up with our regular canvas guy — Tony with Coastal Canvas — and started laying out the panels and determining the attachment points. Recall we did have the issue with the Eisenglass window pane over the helmsman’s head that we had to work around:
However, Tony said it would not be a problem at all. He would simply reduce the size of the opening for the pane on top to accommodate the two square panels on either side. I like that guy. Seems for him, nothing’s a problem! We provided Tony with the bimini and our panels and he set to work.
In the meantime, I kept at it with the silks,
and eventually learned my first drop trick! (We call this the reach-and-grab … for obvious reasons.)
Phillip, however, seemed to think my new acrobatics could be put to better use on the boat.
“You like to climb, huh? Well, up you go!”
The Man runs a tight ship! Remember that steaming light we crushed during our trip to the Keys when we attempted our first (and hopefully our last) mid-sea mast climb to retrieve the main halyard?? Well, while we were waiting to get our bimini back from Tony, we picked up a new one and Phillip sent this little Cirque de Soul up the mast to fix it.
Maybe some silks skills do come in handy on the boat.
At 50 feet up, it’s hard to say which “sport” is more fun!
A few new tricks and projects later and it wasn’t long before we had our bimini back outfitted perfectly for our panels.
Tony reduced the size of our Eisenglass pane to open easily between the two square panels on the back.
And, his craftsmanship proved to be a vast improvement from my hot glue jobs.
With the Velcro outlines in place, we were ready to slap some panels on the bimini!
While the decision to stitch the Velcro onto the bimini was an easy one (it’s canvas, that’s a no-brainer), how, exactly, to attach the Velcro to the panels was another story. Although the panels we bought (the Renogy monocrystalline) are technically “flexible,” that really only means up to 30 degrees. The “flexible” panels could actually be considered pretty rigid when you start trying to stick a needle through one.
For an equivalent, I would say they feel about like a thin sheet of PVC. While there is a little white lip around the edge that we could have had Tony try to stitch through, there was no guarantee the needle could punch through or that, if it did, it wouldn’t crack the panel and ruin the monocrystalline cells. This time, Tony had a problem. He was understandably hesitant to crank up his heavy-duty industrial sewing machine and run one of our brand new expensive panels through. Can’t say that I blame him. Tony suggested we simply apply adhesive-backed Velcro to the backs of the panels to stick them on the bimini and even supplied us with a roll of industrial strength adhesive Velcro to use.
It was probably the right call. Having used that type of adhesive Velcro before, we knew it was pretty strong and risking the panels in a sewing machine catastrophe was not worth the added comfort of having the Velcro stitched onto the panels. Plus, the panels came pre-made with grommet holes at each corner if we wanted to do some hand-stitching to the bimini later for added security. We applied a thin strip of Velcro on each edge of the panels to match up with the Velcro outlines on the bimini.
We set them in place on the bimini and were pleased to find the Velcro gave a good, solid hold.
Absent gale gusts or a hurricane, we didn’t feel like the panels were going anywhere. But, now they were only attached. That was the easy part. They were not yet wired in.
Each panel has a positive and negative output — positive to pass the solar energy through, negative to ground the panel. We had three panels, a large 100 watt panel in the front and two 50 watt panels in the back. We were planning to wire the back two square panels together to basically have two panel outputs coming in (the 100 watt and the combined 50s). As I mentioned previously, we also had to install two MPPT Charge Controllers to regulate the flow of each solar “panel” into our house battery bank.
Example diagram of the combined 50 watts:
You having fun yet? While we like to research and troubleshoot and try to figure things like this out for ourselves (because no one’s going to be there to help us when these systems break in the middle of the dadgum ocean), when we’re faced with something completely new and do have the collective knowledge of our fellow boat buddies to pool from, we like to invite them over to the boat at times like these to “have a few beers.” That’s boat code for “I want your help with something.” We’ve been lucky to fall into a great group of boat friends in Pensacola, and they’re always eager to lend a hand or an opinion. Bottom-Job Brandon and our Broker-turned-Buddy Kevin came over and we all started scooching panels around, running wires and scratching our heads.
(Don’t they look smart?) What can I say, there were beers involved.
Decisions were made, though, as to where to mount the MPPT controllers, how to run the wires from the panels on top of the bimini, down the bimini frame and through the deck of the boat and how to connect the charge controllers to the main house battery bank. Up next, the real work of the solar project begins!
These circus skills really do translate. Perhaps I need to take up contortionism next … Stay tuned!
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Everyone likes power, right? Edison knew it. Torches, lanterns and candles are great, but bulbs are just way cooler (and much safer on a boat). We love the silence of the sea, the serenity of being at anchor and are pretty frugal with our amp hours. But, our trip to the Keys in 2014 told us there are a few electric gizmos we consider a must, and that we must find a better way to power them. Some of our more Edison-esque priorities are …
Lights:
Laptops and phones:
The radio and, most definitely, the fridge!
Ice just puts the “happy” in our hour(s) if you know what I mean.
But, if you want to enjoy all of these fun electric things, you must find an efficient way to POWER them. On the Niagara, our house battery bank consists of four (4) 6 volt Trojan T-125 wet-cell batteries, wired in series and in parallel, which charge on either shore power or the engine via the alternator (much like a car battery). We did replace the batteries in the fall of 2013, so they’re solid.
And, we do have a handy eMeter, which helps us monitor our usage and the remaining “juice” that we have left to enjoy our power-driven amenities.
But, with the engine as the only option to charge the batteries when we are away from shore, this meant we often had to crank the engine while on the hook and let it run idle to give the batteries some juice.
Now, there are a LOT of things we like to do while at anchor:
(Total gratuitous shot of Phillip, I know. It’s my blog. I don’t care.)
Sitting around watching the engine run so we can charge the batteries, however? Doesn’t really rank very high in our “fun” category:
Not to mention, it’s just hard on the engine. Diesels do not like to run idle without a load.
So, one of our primary projects after returning from the Keys was to install some solar panels on the boat that would allow us to use power from the sun to charge the house batteries while at anchor. Sounds simple, right? Well, it wasn’t. Thankfully, Phillip bore the brunt of the research end of this project. (Because let’s face it, he is definitely the brains of this outfit. I’m the brawn. We’ve got a great thing going.) There were so many different types of panels, manufacturers, installation techniques and set-ups to consider. We were debating between rigid panels versus flexible panels:
The high-end Italian-made panels versus the much less expensive Chinese “knockoffs.”
Think real Gucci versus what the guy is selling out of the back of his trunk around the corner. But, who’s going to know, right? Maybe there really are three “c”s in Gucci.
Without venturing too far outside of my meager solar knowledge (I’m sure Phillip is cringing at what I might be about to say right now and how far it might be from reality), one of the primary concerns for solar panels is their efficiency–that is, how much of the sun’s energy do they convert to solar power. While the fancy Italian models (Solbian) were boasting 22%, the knockoffs (Renogy and Aurinco) were still clocking a good 18% for a third of the cost (roughly, for purposes of our project, about $900 versus $300). We checked out a lot of cruiser’s forums discussing the Renogy flexible panels (mostly with good reports) and debated to no end about the pros and cons of each:
“You mean there are eight different products I have to choose between and everyone’s got a different opinion about each of them? Who ARE these boat people with all of their complicated decisions?”
The great solar debate quickly became exhausting. I felt like we needed one of those Don Draper decision trees (if you have not seen this – don’t rush it – it may help you make every important decision in your life going forward):
Finding the magic problem-solving power of the drink to be futile in the face of our dilemma, I decided in the meantime to take up another vice/hobby to help relieve some solar stress — the AERIAL SILKS!
A good friend of mine had been encouraging me to take it up for quite some time and I promised to give it a go when we got back from the Keys. The minute I started, I knew …
I should have done this years ago!
It was way too much fun to even remotely be called “work,” and I was trained by the best. My silks instructor, Garret, is (sorry, but there’s really no other way to put this) a total silks badass:
It was also the perfect outlet for my inner circus!
With regard to the solar project, though, we found my new hobby quite emPOWERing and inspiring. After a few weeks of silks training and further solar debate, we decided the Renogy flexible panels were the right choice for us.
The reviews were encouraging, the price was better, and the flex (up to 30 degrees) would allow us to mount them on top of our curved overhead canvas without having to add the stainless racks that would be necessary for rigid panels. The flex decision, however, did not end our debate. (We referred back to the Don Draper chart, but sadly found a drink and a nap didn’t solve this problem either.) We now had to decide how many panels to buy and whether to mount them on the dodger or the bimini or both.
The dodger:
The bimini:
Unfortunately, if a solar panel is shadowed, even if only partially, it greatly hinders the solar power output for the entire panel. While the dodger offers a wide canvas area for mounting, it’s sun exposure would be partially blocked by the boom, which meant output from panels on the dodger would be limited. We were also unsure where we would feed wires in from panels on the dodger down below deck to the charge controllers. (Solar panels require separate MPPT controllers which regulate the amount of solar power coming in to ensure it does not overload the batteries and/or burn the boat down, in that order. Don’t worry, we’ll get there. That’s a-whole-nother solar dilemma. It will require two Don Draper drinks and repeated insults to fellow crew members).
The bimini, while offering a large canvas area for mounting, unfortunately had the “window” to contend with. Our bimini has an Eisenglass cutout in the center, right above the helm, to allow the helmsman to view the sails and the windvane, which is mounted at the top of the mast, from behind the wheel. We certainly didn’t want to block this, but it’s large rectangular shape made fitting two panels on either side of it very difficult.
Needless to say, the decision had our heads spinning … I reverted to more silks therapy,
and Phillip took a nap. Both seemed to help.
Eventually, we decided to mount the panels sol-ely (no solar pun intended!) on the bimini. This would allow maximum direct sun exposure. It was also the largest canvas area available and the most protected, being above our heads and out of range of lines, sheets, gaffs, boat hooks, falling tools or other objects that could potentially damage panels mounted on top of the dodger. Our plan was to reduce the size of the Eisenglass window to accommodate two square panels on either side.
We measured the available space on the bimini, allowing a sufficient opening for the “window” above the helm to see the sails and wind vane, and decided to buy one large 100 watt panel (approximately 42″ x 22″) to mount on the front of the bimini:
and two (2) 50 watt panels (approximately 22″ x 21″) to mount on the back on either side of the Eisenglass window:
Like so!
The larger 100 watt panel promised an approximate 5 amps/hour input in direct sunlight and the two 50 watt panels combined promised another approximate 4 or so, for a (hopeful) total of 9 amps/hour going in. To be conservative, we estimated 8 amps/hr input. For anyone interested, here’s where you can earn your shooting PBS star for the day. As a general rule of thumb, we use approximately 4.5 amps/hour on the Plaintiff’s Rest while at anchor. With a 480-hour capacity battery bank (which we do not like to drain past 50%, or 240 hours), we could generally make it about one and a half days (~ 180 amps used) before we had to crank to recharge the batteries. With an estimated input of 8 amps/hour during ten (10) peak sunlight hours from the solar panels, this would offset our amp hour usage by about 80 amps per day, allowing us to go an approximate 4, if not 5 days, without having to crank the engine to recharge the batteries.
Four and a half days without having to run the engine would qualify as a pretty significant improvement to our lives on the hook. And, wasn’t the learning fun?
So, we finally had our panels and, presumably, we could make them fit around our Eisenglass window. Now came the simple task of mounting them. How do you go about doing that? Like everything else in the boat industry, it seemed there were eight different ways to do it and everyone had eight different opinions about it. We knew we were going to get those darn things on there somehow, but it would require more research, more therapy and another debate — snaps versus grommets, velcrow versus stitching. On and on. The possibilities had us tied up in knots.
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To a certain degree, every passage is a shake-down passage. I mean, it’s rare cruisers pull up to a dock or anchorage after a trying-but-successful passage and say, “Yep, we did everything exactly right. All of our equipment worked just as we intended and we executed everything with unquestionable precision and skill.” Please. If you know cruisers like that, unfriend them. Nothing ever goes exactly as planned. There’s always something to learn or take away from a passage. That’s the beauty of sailing. It’s all about shaking–shaking things up, shaking them down, keeping the dust and cobwebs off. There are a million things we learned during our trip last year to the Keys. We’ve forgotten half of them by now, but most of the important lessons stuck. There were also many things we learned we wanted to do to the boat to better prepare it for our next BIG trip. We started keeping a running tally as we were going and then prioritizing–which projects were musts, and which were luxuries. One of our higher-up items on the list was replacing the old leather cover on our steering wheel.
Yeah, that ratty thing.
While a leather steering wheel cover for the boat may sound like a luxury, we consider it a necessity. If the auto-pilot will not hold and you’re forced to hold that thing for hours on end, anything that keeps your hands comfortable and less prone to cramp and ache while you’re doing it is anything but a luxury. Our leather cover had served us well since we bought the boat in 2013, but had suffered a few holes and missing chunks over the years.
And, if I had to hear Phillip gripe one more time about this flap, I was going to rip it off and throw it overboard.
That thing drove him nuts. Heck, it drove me nuts. I’m one of those that can’t leave a scab or a wayward cuticle alone. If it’s snagging and catching on things, or just bugging me in general, I’m going to pick it until it’s a big, infected bloody mess, but at least the flap is gone! Take that flap! Phillip had to watch me closely during the Keys trip to make sure I wasn’t tempted to rip this obstinate little piece off (because it would have caused the whole cover to unravel and fray). Luckily, I didn’t. This worn, ragged cover made it back home in, well, a couple of worn and ragged pieces, so it was high time we replaced it.
Thankfully, our previous owner, Jack, was meticulous in his care of the boat and he kept all of his receipts, manuals, instructions, etc. While we weren’t surprised to find he kept the receipt from his purchase of the leather cover, we were surprised to find that he had bought it in 1992!
So, that the ratty cover we were cursing had been on the boat for 22 years! TWENTY-TWO?! Do they make anything these days that lasts that long? Other than diesel engines, I can’t think of much. When it came to replacing it, we really had no reason to branch out. We were pleased with the product and it had clearly proven its durability. It was an easy decision. Another Boat Leather steering wheel cover it would be. Tom, with Boat Leather, even had Jack’s old records, so he already knew our wheel size, making the order a snap to refill. Within minutes, our new Boat Leather cover was on its way, along with a detailed instruction guide to show us how to accomplish the specific herringbone stitch needed to secure it around our wheel.
Tom has also published a very helpful video on his website which shows, in real time, his perfected method for installing the wheel cover. Armed with our instructions, the new wheel cover and a thick needle, Phillip and I picked a sunny August day and set to it.
I have to admit, the first final RRRrrrrip! of the old leather cover off of the wheel felt good. “Take that flap!”
Our wheel sure was pretty underneath–all polished and shiny!
We are the original gangstuhs.
We didn’t let her breathe for long, though. The next step was a thin layer of double-sided tape to hold the leather cover in place while you wrap it around the wheel.
(That’s my pretty work face)
The Boat Leather cover comes pre-sized specifically to fit your steering wheel and, you can see here, it has holes pre-punched into the leather to make the stitching easier.
Ahhh … the stitching. That was definitely my favorite part! The taping and wrapping was followed by about three hours of super-fun stitching.
I’m smiling here because I didn’t yet know how much “fun” the stitching was going to be. I felt like Forrest Gump experiencing all the different “directions of rain” in Vietnam. We stitched backwards, sideways, upside down.
It honestly wasn’t too bad, though. A nice sunny day, some good Gordon Lightfoot playing in the background and I could have stitched all day. Before we knew it, we had made it around full-circle and were putting the last stitch in!
And, then she was done!
Wheeeh-whoo! Ain’t she a beaut? One hot afternoon of stitching, and she was on there–a new Boat Leather steering wheel cover, ready to take us cruising another 20 years. The Captain was obviously pleased with my stitchmanship.
“Why thank you ma’am.”
And, the best part? No more flap! Our wheel is now soft and smooth and a true joy to hold. We were so impressed with the product, we knew when we saw Boat Leather listed as one of the exhibitors at the Strictly Sail Miami show this past February, we were going to have to stop by the Boat Leather booth and tell Tom ourselves what an awesome job he has done putting out such a quality boat product for so many years.
Tom was incredibly humble and grateful and asked us only for one small favor in return … a live testimonial from yours truly for his soon to be updated website.
Me?? Have something to SAY about something? Never!
I didn’t hesitate (although perhaps I should have–I could have planned my giddy teenage spiel a little better, but alas … it is done). Tom clicked his phone on video and I took off, talking ninety miles a minute, raving about his twenty-year product, throwing in a blog mention and ending the whole thing with a wicked thumbs up. YEEEAAAH!
Remember when I become famous, you saw it here first …
So, replacing the wheel cover? Done. Next time, we knock off another biggie of our Post-Keys Project list. That’s right followers, it’s time to do some sol(ar) searching. Join us!
Many thanks to the folks who make these posts a little more possible with PATREON.
