How to unstick a stuck zipper

I know, zippers are not a usual topic for a live-aboard, sailing adventure blog site. It's just that they're driving me crazy right now and I thought you should know about it. If you've got any notion at all to live aboard a boat, zippers will become an issue for you. Like everything else metal on a boat, zippers, like the kind on your backpacks, jeans and zip-up fleeces, tend to corrode. It's not the zipper teeth themselves, but rather the metal slider and pull tab. They corrode in place on the nylon or metal zipper teeth. We left one backpack aboard when we headed to the States this past summer. I went to use it the other day to go walking. Not one of the five zippers on that backpack worked. All were frozen shut.

Here's a line from Wikipedia on the subject:

“A zipper costs relatively little, but if it fails, the garment [or backpack] may be unusable until the zipper is repaired or replaced—which can be quite difficult and expensive.” What a revelation! Not only is it unusable, but you can't retrieve anything that's been left in it!

Granted, the backpack is beat up. I've been using it for years. However, since $75 backpacks don't grow on trees and we've run into this same situation a number of times, David has become pretty efficient at repairing/rejuvenating zippers with this particular problem. Here's the solution.

1.  Free the zipper slider. Repeatedly spray with WD40 and work the slider with needle nose pliers until the slider can be moved on the zipper teeth. You can't be too aggressive in your efforts or you'll break the slider and/or the tab pull. An even pressure, more WD40 and patience will eventually free the slider. (The patience part can be an issue … but that's just me.)

Open the zipper and lubricate. Once the slider can be moved, open the zipper all the way and apply a zipper lubricant/preservative along both sides of the teeth. Our well-worn teflon lubricant is in a solid bar form and made by Pelican Canvas Products in San Pedro, CA. We've had it since we moved aboard the boat. I couldn't find a website for Pelican, but we have used MaxWax as well. The same product can also be used for wetsuits, luggage, etc. We're sure other brands will work just fine. In a pinch, we've even used an unscented, white candle.

3.  Work the zipper all the way up and down a few times to make sure it zips smoothly. In a perfect world, with a perfect crew, we'd lubricate all of our zippers on a regular basis (as if!), but since we don't, these extreme measures do the trick.

So, while David was unfreezing zippers, I happened to have internet access and got these key facts about zippers from Wikipedia for your personal pleasure while you're waiting for the WD40 to work:

Elias Howe, who invented the sewing machine (in Spencer, MA right next to my hometown of Leicester) received a patent in 1851 for an "Automatic, Continuous Clothing Closure". His sewing machine was evidently doing so well, he didn't market it and lost his window of opportunity.

A Swedish-American electrical engineer, Gideon Sunbäck, is actually credited for this invention c.1917. B F Goodrich used it for its rubber boots and coined the word “zipper”because that's the sound the slider makes when it's doing its thing.

Zippers were first used for boots and tobacco pouches and didn't really “take off” till the 1930's when zippers were used on kids clothes and marketed as an easier way for kids to dress themselves.

French fashion designers declared the zipper the ultimate in fashion for men in 1937 when it won the “Battle of the Fly” over traditional button-flies Here's my favorite line: “Esquire declared the zipper the "Newest Tailoring Idea for Men" and among the zippered fly's many virtues was that it would exclude "The Possibility of Unintentional and Embarrassing Disarray."

Ah, the virtues of zippers, but there's something to be said about a man in tight Levi 501s.

Do you use Wikipedia? I do... a lot. It's free to use, but you might want to consider contributing a little into the till. They're asking for the price of a cup of coffee (Starbucks not a senior McDonald's). Help them out. We did.

So much for the gentle nature of Neptune

What did I say about this calm, placid anchorage? Did I say it was mill-pond smooth? Did I say we barely hear the gentle whir of the wind gens cranking out amps? Did I say David figured out the problem with VHF mike? Did I say it was warm and sultry? Well...I take it all back! Yesterday morning, the wind gen started making a creaking, squeaking sound...not good. David took it down immediately and found a loose magnet was the culprit. He epoxied it back in place, but it had to “cure” before the wind gen could be put back together and remounted on its starboard pole.

We listened yesterday afternoon as the radio weather forecast called for 10-15 knot winds and “no wind warnings for the Derwent Estuary” as we were nearly blown away by 40 knot winds, not gusts, but winds, that kept the boat rocking and reeling as it kept up with the bay waves. Today's forecast called for 20-25 knot winds. Aha...that accounts for the 55 knot gusts and 40 knot winds we experienced throughout the day. For you landlubbers, 55 knots is 63 mph winds or 100+ kph. That's a whole heap of wind. With the wind has come cooler temps. Goodbye, summer! It was good while it lasted.

We waited for a slight lull to mount the wind gen again. David has to straddle the mounting pole while standing atop the stern rails and lift it up over his head to remount it. It's tough enough when the boat is still; a rocking boat adds another dimension of excitement, but he managed. Then, of course, there's been too much wind to turn it back on!

And then there's the VHF cockpit radio mike. Juan, at Standard Horizon headquarters in California, has been excellent, e-mailing back and forth with David.

“It's a fuse.”

“Nope, checked it out, the fuse is okay. Next?”

“It's probably the widgit.”

“Nope, I checked the widgit already; it's okay.”

“What about the whats-it? “

“Checked the voltage there...the whats-it is just fine.”

“Unfortunately, you'll have to send it back.”

BZZZZZZT! (read that as the wrong answer buzzer sound you hear on quiz shows!)

Moving right along...this placid, smooth-as-a-mill pond anchorage has been transformed into a white-capped, foaming, spray-strewn bay. Cups is swinging back and forth on her anchor and probably thinks she's at sea. I had just commented in an email that Neptune was being gentle with us on our first days out. So much for the gentle nature of Neptune. He and Aeolus have taken us to task for being away so long, I think.

We are thankful, however, that we're able to regain our sea legs without having to go to sea.

Life on the Derwent River

Despite the fact we're concerned we won't find a berth in Hobart for the holiday season, we've remained at anchor up the Derwent River in Cornelian Bay for the past few days. It's not like Life on the Mississippi, but it's definitely pleasant here. We're pretty much alone though we see people walking on the shore and a kayaker once in awhile. It took us two days to launch the dinghy. We're in no hurry. The Derwent River, by the way, is not technically a river at all. It's an estuary. The difference between the two, I've recently learned, is that rivers are fresh water and estuaries are inlets of the sea, salty and tidal, the estuary being a transition zone between land and sea. We're anchored in the Derwent Estuary, but it seems just like a river to us.

There are trains that run along the shore night and day and sound close enough to run right over Cups. The loud rumble and vibration startled us the first night, but since then we've become accustomed to the whistles and train noises. We can hear the muffled sounds of traffic over the Tasman Bridge and along the coast road by the Queen's Domain. City sounds affect us only minimally. Some guys on jet skis played around near us for a couple of hours yesterday; they finally left. We think of them as gnats. Sorry if you really like jet skis. We find them particularly annoying with their noise and the wakes they create. Mostly though, we hear the gentle whir of the wind generator cranking out amps with its silent solar panel partners. We haven't had to start the engine since we arrived.

There doesn't seem to be much river traffic although perhaps it's cyclical. The span width, height and interval of the Tasman Bridge tell us that some pretty large vessels come through from time to time. The charts show an LPG storage area and an oil wharf up river a ways, but we've seen no ships nor many boats of any kind except the ferry to MONA which passes by a few times a day.

We've been reading and writing on these quiet days. We take long walks along the coast track. The temperature is warming up now and it feels like summer although that can change in the drop of a hat here. There are lots of terns and gulls around and when David's working on deck, they must think he's cleaning fish because they all swarm around looking for tasty fish guts. There's been a full moon and we're enjoying the night views of the bridge and the twinkling lights on the river.

David has repaired the cockpit GPS. The bilge pump was an easy fix and seems to be operating just fine now. The cockpit microphone will take more effort, but he's been in touch with Standard Horizon and they seem to have sussed out a bad fuse as the potential problem. They've agreed to let David fix it himself without voiding the warranty. Oh, joy, another chore on the list. As you can see, we've only changed locations in order to perform boat chores in a new place.