Life on the Hard

It's a hard life “on the hard”. Living on land is usually a pleasant treat for us once in awhile, but not when the boat is hauled out of the water and we're living aboard. Many times when we've hauled out for big projects like in Ecuador and Uruguay, we've rented an apartment or a little house locally to make life a bit easier and we'd bike back and forth to the marina. This time, however, we're only planning to be out for week or so, and we've opted to live aboard ... on a boat out of the water, 12' above the ground, propped up by stands strategically placed around the hull to prevent us from tipping over, accessible only by ladder. This is not the ideal life and certainly not one to be envious of. We climb up and down a vertical ladder to get on and off the boat. This is not an easy feat when 1) your hands are full going up or coming down or 2) you really have to go to the bathroom. The hands-full thing is easy. We use a line and heave or lower as necessary or even place things in a bucket for easy transport. Forgetting something up above or needing a tool down below in the middle of a project sometimes elicits curses.

Having to go to the bathroom, on the other hand, is a real pain. We can't use the holding tanks when we're out of the water and thus, every time we need to go (which seems to be quite frequently at our age), we climb down the ladder and walk quite a distance to take care of our business. I counted 270 steps to the toilet block. David counted in yards and we compared measurements to determine that we're ~606' or close to 1/10 of a mile from the toilet. That's a long, long walk when you've really gotta go. We travel down the ladder, down a hill, across the slipway tracks, up a hill and, if it's rainy, through the mud, just to get to the toilet. I confess, we use a pee bucket for middle of the night needs. I'd rather carry the bucket to the toilet block in the morning and empty it out, than climb down the ladder at 2am.

Another issue, of course, is cleaning up after cooking. Where does the water go? Gray water usually just drains back out into the sea. On the hard, we can't do that. We usually stick a hose in the galley sink through-hull on the bottom of the boat and move a large bucket underneath. I use water sparingly to wash and rinse dishes, brush our teeth, etc and we empty the gray water bucket regularly.

There are new and different sounds. Gone is the gentle lap of water against the hull and the usual boat sounds like the eeeek of the docklines as they stretch and strain or the crunch of the fenders between us and the dock. Instead wayward halyards are slapping or plastic tarps are flapping on nearby, unoccupied boats.

Everyone else here lives locally. There are no other liveaboards, so we're quite by ourselves in the evenings. When the wind whips through the boatyard, the boat shakes and shivers. She's well balanced and supported in her cradle, but she still shudders when the wind gusts and it's an unnerving feeling.

Only a week on the hard is planned and it'll go by quickly with so much to do. There's nothing like a little inconvenience to make you appreciate what you usually take for granted.

On the positive side, our new altitude provides us with an absolutely commanding view of the boatyard. When we're not down on the ground working ourselves, we can watch all the activity going on around us from a front row seat, high above it all.

And, we now have three bars on our mobile phone.

Haul-Out Day

Boats aren't meant to be out of the water. That's probably the reason why hauling the boat once every year or so is always met with a bit of trepidation. Like anything else, once you've done it a few times, you at least know what to expect, but still we're hauling a 21 ton boat out of the water supported only by two huge heavy-duty slings. Each marina does things a little differently. Everything usually goes just fine; we've never had a problem. Sometimes things do go wrong, however, and we've seen the results. Not pretty. Fingers are always crossed. The main reason for hauling a boat is to handle under waterline repairs, repaint the bottom with anti-fouling and generally inspect all the parts that usually sit under water. We have our standard list of what needs to be done plus new chores always pop up. We've given ourselves a pretty tight schedule for getting everything accomplished. Being “on the hard” here in Australia is an expensive proposition.

We “kissed a bommie” (read that nudged up against a coral head) in Fiji last season. It wasn't extensive or serious, but the keel will need some repair. David wants to repaint the bootstripe. My job is usually painting the bottom while David is doing the other chores on the list. The boat bottom is never so big as when I'm painting it...three times. Antifouling paint ostensibly keeps things from growing on the bottom of the boat, like barnacles, worms, reef plants, etc. In order to be effective it has a high anti-sea critter growth content and is pretty toxic to humans. I wear my Pillsbury Doughgirl disposable Tyvec coveralls and a respirator. Fashion doesn't count here, thank goodness, plus no one would ever recognize me.

The weather has been seasonably pleasant and sunny the last few days. And then today, when we wanted to haul out, it turned stinky. The wind howled through the night and it rained buckets. It seemed to lighten up a bit around 0800, but a quick trip to the toilet block and we were soaked. I looked at the weather and thought “Nah”. David looked at the weather and said “No worries...ready to go?” There's definitely a major difference in our wiring.

We backed out of the berth around 0930. David finally got the hydraulic fittings he needed and was able to replace the hoses, so we even had steerage as we headed into the TravelLift bay. The rain alternated between drizzle and downpour and the temperature dropped. We were wet, cold and shivering.

The haul-out was a long process. David thought the forestay would need moving. He usually has to do this, depending on the size of the lift hauling us out. But the TravelLift operator thought not. That's a bonus. But then of course, after getting the boat in the slings and hauling her up, it was determined that yes, he would have to detach the forestay in order to raise her high enough to lift her onto land. Another 30 minute delay as he coaxed cotter pins out of place, snipped seizing wire, loosened backstays and finally bound the forestay to the port lifelines to give us enough clearance in the lift. Back up in the lift and still not quite enough clearance. This time, they readjusted the slings and up she came.

Remarkably, after sitting for several months, unmoved in her berth here, her bottom was quite clean. Slime prevailed, but very few barnacles or other growth. We had expected a mini-reef, but were pleasantly surprised. David used the marina's power washer and got most of the slime off. What looked like a black-bottomed boat was indeed still blue without the slime overcoat. What few barnacles there were, we attacked with a putty knife and they popped right off.

Next, wet sanding. Preparation here is important as with most painting jobs. We wet sanded the bottom, roughing it up and removing any other surface debris to insure good anti-fouling adherence. We probably won't haul her again for another 18 months to two years, this has got to be a good job to last us. We were both blue with old bottom paint by the time we were finished, but a good job done. David finished out the day by masking the bootstripe. Painting will begin tomorrow. We're hoping it will warm up so the epoxy work can begin. It's a small area to be repaired and I'll paint around it while David is working or just paint right over David. Depends on my mood!

Update: progress with boat chores

Yes, even with all of our gallivanting around this week, we (by "we" I mean "David") managed to get several chores done aboard the boat. The leaking starboard portlight has been replaced and the three other pieces of acrylic have been cut to size and shape and are on the list for installation. This is a perfect example, by the way, of how frugal David can be. At Plasticene, the place where we bought the acrylic, they cut the general rectangular size pieces we wanted at minimal cost, but to cut the curved portlight shapes we needed, they wanted an additional $60 and two days. David opted to cut the shaped pieces himself and save the money and time. Speaking of leaks, our keel-stepped mast has been leaking as well. Whenever it rained, a small cascade of water would drip down the mast through the deck fittings and into the salon. The water ended up in the bilge, but it was definitely an irritant to David. He tried several different mast boot configurations, but with the next rainstorm, we'd see the water streaming down the mast once again. This time he removed the stainless collar around the mast on deck and re-bedded it. No more leaks based on the last few days of rain.

Ah, the batteries. You'll remember the seemingly endless process of load testing and equalizing the batteries. The four good batteries which were on the starboard side of the boat have all been moved to the port side and rewired. The “ballast” dead batteries have been removed from the boat which was no easy task considering they weigh 150 pounds each. We brought the main halyard through the salon hatch, attached it to each battery in turn, and slowly winched each of the four up and off the boat to a waiting wheelbarrow on the dock. A local fellow recycles them and whisked them away. Farewell, ballast! We replaced one of the bad batch with a new one for use as our starter battery, using the reverse process to lift it off the dock and lower it down and into place. David wired it up and it's good to go. We're feeling good in the battery department.

With removal and relocation of the battery bank, the boat is much more in trim and no longer listing to starboard. That meant however, the stove was no longer level and required another go at the leveling process to keep the cook happy.

Midst all this, David managed to repair some fiberglass gouges in a friend's hull. Not a bad week AND we managed a bit of recreation between all the chores. But alas, the hydraulic fitting saga … yet to be resolved.