The Blue View - A Couple of Screws Loose

On passages, one of my morning rituals is to do a deck 'walk-around'. My morning watch starts at 0900, and after my morning cuppa, I take a walk around the boat, tossing the night's catch of flying fish overboard and checking for any potential problems. Any lines chafing? Are the dinghy and anchor still lashed and secure? How do the sails look – any issues? The stays and shrouds and other parts of the standing rigging are looking good? … and so on. On one morning's walk-around during our Trini-Puerto Rico passage I found two screws lying in the port side scuppers. Not a good sign and something that required immediate investigation. I had visions of the radar module coming loose from its mounting and self-destructing or the whisker pole coming apart and folding in half – after ripping a large hole in the yankee.

I remember talking to an avid racer who said that during a close race, one of his crew mates would sometimes use a slingshot to fire a screw or two into the mainsail of the boat they were trying to beat. The screws would drop to the deck, making enough noise to be noticed. At the very least, the crew would be distracted while trying to figure out where the screw came from and whether they were about to lose the rig. I'm not sure if it was BS or not, and even if it wasn't, I can't imagine the ploy working more than once, but it was a good story. At any rate, there were no boats within sight, so unless the screws I just found came from a drone, they were most certainly from Nine of Cups.

There were a few clues. The screws were just aft of midships in the port scuppers. This eliminated anything further aft, since it was very unlikely they rolled uphill from the place on deck that they landed. They were 5/16” diameter screws, eliminating stanchion screws. They were also coated in Tef-Gel, a substance I use to prevent galling and corrosion when I attach a stainless screw to aluminum – like the mast and boom. So, the most likely places to check were the mast, forward end of the boom, inboard end of the whisker pole, and the furlers. That's still a lot of possibilities.

I had removed the forestay in Trini so that Cups would fit on the Travelift, and this required partially disassembling the jib furler. I thought maybe I had neglected to tighten everything when I reattached the forestay – but everything looked good there. I checked all the screws on the boom and the lower part of the mast – all present and accounted for.

In the old days, the next step would be to lie on the foredeck with the binoculars and try to spot any missing screws further up the mast. Now, with digital cameras and great zoom lenses, it is much easier. I sit on the deck, zoom in and focus on a fitting, then shoot half a dozen photos. Next I review the photos, zooming in as much as possible to try to locate the screw-less hole. I spent a half hour or so carefully checking the possibilities, but still couldn't spot any missing screws.

As I was pondering where to check next, I grabbed the staysail furler to re-position myself. There, just below my hand, and not two feet from where I had been sitting for the last half hour, was the furler collar with an empty screw hole. I checked the other side of the collar, and sure enough, the second of three screws was missing. The third screw was partially unscrewed, but still in place. Had it come out, the result wouldn't have been catastrophic, but we wouldn't have been able to bring in the staysail when it was time. It took but a few minutes to put the screws back in place and tighten, and add a note in the log sheets to remove them, re-coat with Tef-Gel and tighten back in place once we arrived in Puerto Rico.

Later, as I was pondering how these three screws could have come loose, it occurred to me that last December, when we were getting ready to haul-out in Trini, I had loosened them in the event we had to remove the inner stay in order to fit into the Travelift at Power Boats. This is sometimes necessary, and we once tied up a haul-out facility for an hour or so while I worked on removing a seized screw - because I hadn't prepped the furler ahead of time. Not only had I forgotten I had loosened them, I had neglected to add it to my to-do list at the time. They weren't loose enough to notice during all my pre-passage checks, but were loose enough to work their way free. My bad.

I will make a note to add this to our splash checklist – if I can just remember where I put the damn list.

The Blue View - Decanting Propane

One of the chores to complete before leaving Trinidad was to fill our propane tanks. Running out of propane on a passage, while not exactly life threatening, would certainly be a hardship. Actually, if I went a few days without my morning coffee, the first mate might be ready to jump overboard - or throw me to the sharks – so, truth be told, it might very well be a life threatening situation.

We have three tanks aboard Nine of Cups; two fiberglass 10 lb. (4.6 kg) tanks that fit down into our propane locker, and a standard 20 lb. (9.2 kg) steel tank that sits on deck inside a nice, made-to-purpose ditty bag. When one of the smaller tanks becomes empty, I refill it using the large tank.

In many parts of the world, it is expensive and/or quite difficult to get our tanks refilled. There are often places that will swap filled tanks for empties, or refill the local tanks, but just as often, either the tank fittings are different, or local codes prohibit the filling of any but their approved tanks, or there isn't a refill station within walking distance of Nine of Cups. So, we usually buy or borrow a local tank, and use it to fill our tanks.

Decanting propane isn't difficult. A full tank contains mostly liquid propane with a little propane vapor at the top. To move the liquid propane from the full tank to the empty tank, I connect the two with a hose, set the full tank upside down and higher than the empty and open the valves on both tanks. The liquid propane runs out out of the full tank and into the empty. That's the principle anyway – in reality there are a few complications.

• The liquid needs a little help to flow into the empty tank once the vapor pressure builds up in the partially filled tank. Most tanks have a small bleed screw that allows the vapor to escape as the tank fills up. I can hear the flow of liquid as it moves from one tank to the other, and once I hear the initial flow of liquid slowing down, I loosen the bleed screw until the vapor begins to escape from the partially filled tank. I watch the escaping vapor - it will be clear with spits of white liquid until the tank is full. Once the tank is full, the escaping propane will turn white, and I know it's time to tighten the bleed screw. Some propane is lost using this technique. If there is no bleed screw or I want to avoid losing any propane, the liquid from the full tank will eventually fill the empty without loosening the bleed screw, but it sometimes takes 24 hours or so.

• When I set the full tank upside down, I keep it at a small angle rather than positioning it completely vertical. It likely has rust in the bottom which I don't want transferred to my tanks.
• If I am not using the bleed screw, before opening the valve on the empty tank, I loosen the connection between the tanks so any air in the line will be purged and not forced into the empty tank. When using the bleed screw, this step is unnecessary since air is lighter than propane and will be purged via the venting process.

• Many countries have a different fitting on their propane tanks than what we are used to in the U.S. It seemed like every South American country we visited had a different standard. Part of the adventure was visiting hardware and plumbing stores until I found a fitting (or combination of fittings) that would allow me to connect the local tank to the hose and pigtail connection for my tanks. I have a ditty bag chock full of adapters from around the world.
• I always secure the full tank in its upside down position so it can't fall over or overboard if there is an unexpected wake or surge.
• Propane is heavier than air, and any propane that leaks or is released inside the boat will collect in the bilge. If enough collects down there, an explosion and/or fire may result. We had acquaintances on a French boat that blew a hole in the side of their boat after a propane leak. The boat was partially sunk and the wife was badly burned. It happened in a remote part of Patagonia, and they spent a week or so surviving ashore until the Chilean navy found and rescued them. I always make sure any escaping propane vapor is blown overboard – or better yet, I do my decanting ashore when I can.
• Obviously, the escaping propane vapor is highly flammable – I make sure there are no open flames, sparks, etc. anywhere near.

Our three tanks give us enough cooking fuel for 3-4 months – a little less in the cooler climes when we bake more and a lot longer in the tropics when we avoid baking. We no longer have a BBQ grill which seemed to be less efficient. That's been enough propane to keep the crew happy between refill opportunities, whether a long ocean passage or extended gunkholing in Patagonia or the nether regions of Tasmania.

The Blue View - Replacing a Seacock

Nine of Cups has 16 thru-hulls – holes in her bottom. A couple of these are for depth and speed transducers, but 14 are used to allow water into or out of the boat. For example, one is used as an engine cooling water intake, another is connected to the galley sink drain, another serves as the water intake for our desalinator, and so on. Since it could be a real disaster if a hose connected to one of these thru-hulls broke or came loose, each of the 14 thru-hulls is fitted with a shut-off valve - or seacock in sailor's parlance. As part of our annual haul-out chores, we check, lube and exercise each seacock, and examine all the hoses and hose clamps.

This process is more easily done with two people. In our case, Marcie is outside the boat equipped with a q-tip taped to the end of a screwdriver and a pot of either vaseline jelly or a silicone based lubricant, while I am on the inside of the boat. We start with the most forward thru-hull on the starboard side, and I work the seacock half a dozen times or so to limber it up, then close it and tap the hull a few times. That's Marcie's cue to grease the ball valve with a dab of lubricant, after which she taps on the hull. We repeat this three times for each seacock, then move on to the next seacock. While she is greasing, I examine each seacock and thru-hull for corrosion, make sure the bonding wire is still attached and intact, then check each hose for signs of deterioration and each hose clamp to make sure none have broken or begun rusting.

The whole operation takes about a half an hour or so, and is well worth doing. There are always a few seacocks that are quite stiff, but which are soon operating smoothly again after working and lubing them. Invariably, I discover a few hose clamps or a hose that looks questionable, and it goes on the list for replacement before we splash again. And every few years, I find a seacock that has totally frozen up and which will also need replacement before going back in the water.

This time, the seacock for the port cockpit drain was seized. It has been with Cups since she was built, and after 30 years, it finally seized up. This particular one is located behind and below the engine, right next to the large engine exhaust hose – probably the most difficult-to-access seacock on the boat.

The usual steps involved in removing a seacock are to remove the hose clamps and hose from the tailpiece, then, using the biggest pipe wrench that will fit into the space, unscrew the seacock from the thru-hull. These parts are made of heavy bronze, and were sealed with a copious amount of bedding compound 30 years ago, making them somewhat stubborn. I got my biggest pipe wrench out, wriggled my way down to the seacock, then spent the next hour pushing, pulling, grunting, sweating and cursing trying to get the damn thing to budge. After several new cuts and abrasions, a few bruised knuckles and absolutely no movement of the seacock, I went to find Raymond, the boatyard mechanic.

Raymond is a big, strong guy, and his helper is even younger and stronger. I was sure that between the two of them, the seacock would give it up, but after half an hour of concerted effort on their part, it still wouldn't move. We had a brief conference and decided that the only way to get it out would be to grind off the bottom of the thru-hull, and push it up and out of the hull. I was quite apprehensive – it would take some finesse and care to accomplish this without damaging the hull – but Raymond assured me he could do it. Sure enough, after another twenty minutes or so, the thru-hull and attached seacock were free with no collateral damage at all.

Installing the new parts was much easier. The new thru-hull was pushed into the hole from beneath, and a backing plate was installed and the nut screwed into place on the inside of the hull. I did a dry fit first to make sure everything fit, then took it all apart, applied bedding compound to the hole, under the backing plate and onto the threads, then reassembled everything. I tightened the nut moderately tight, making sure bedding compound was oozing out from under the backing plate and around the end of the thru-hull, then let it sit overnight. The next day, I tightened the nut as much as possible. This ensures that not all the bedding compound gets squished out from the mating surfaces.

Next, I applied bedding compound to the threads on the tailpiece and screwed it into the seacock. Then the sea cock was screwed onto the thru-hull, again, after a light application of bedding compound to the threads. It was tightened down, making sure it was oriented so that the handle could be operated. Finally, a new hose and two new hose clamps were fitted into place.

All done, and just in time for a beer while I admired the finished job. All that's left is to check it when we splash to make sure there are no leaks. With any luck, it will last another 30 years, which is just about how long I want to wait before I have to repeat the job.