The Cockpit takes shape

It was a bit of an act of faith to go ahead with installing the foot well.  Once in place, it was going to be difficult to do anything else major in the lazarette.  I will have to run wires from the solar panels and possibly one for a stern light, but there is actually quite a lot of room to move about.  If you are a hobbit.

 It was going to be quite a business getting the foot well into place without getting epoxy everywhere. I put the sole down first, on a small saw horse and some pieces of wood.  Then I used masking tape to force the sides towards each other, which made it a bit easier, but there was still a fair bit of epoxy to clear up. 

I had carried out this manoeuvre several times without too much difficulty, but as I have come to expect, it was much more recalcitrant once I needed it to go into place easily.  There was a lot of hitting with a mallet and bad language required to get it where I wanted.

 Finally it was screwed into place and the additional framing fitted around the base to give a large gluing area where sole and sides come together.

 There are a few little gaps around the edge, but overall it went in reasonably well.  And the teak looks and feels very pleasant.

 It's funny how large it looks until someone is sitting there.  However, my offshore instincts kept kicking in whenever I thought about the foot well, so I've ended up with a roomy after deck with lots of places to sit, but with a small well from which to steer.

 The next stop was to trim off the excess.  The plywood for the bridgedeck is yet to be glued down. I haven't quite finished the floor by the companionway and it's a lot easier to do things with natural light.

With the foot well in place, the next issue was getting backrests set up. Because my seating is at two levels, there was a certain amount of measuring and mocking up to be done to achieve what I wanted.  The well is wider that I'd have chosen, dictated by the cutout for the outboard motor so there was also the trade off between wider and more comfortable seats next to it, and being able to brace myself when the boat heels.  It will be nice to sprawl out on the seats at anchor, but as long as I don't get any fatter, I think I'll end up with something that works both sailing and in harbour.  I'm really pleased to have such a spacious cockpit, because it will be nice to have room for people to sit round in comfort. Cockpit backrests tend to end up a bit low for comfort because of the need to be able to move around and tend to the sails, but a closed-cell foam cushion helps make them more comfortable.  I spent a bit of time with various pieces of wood trying different combinations and finally hit of a compromise that seems to work.

 Finally, I could cut out the surplus bulkhead which has been puzzling my visitors for a long time.  It felt like a big step forward.

 

 I then cut out a long strip of 9mm ply for the backrest, pulling it into place and trying it for size.  I also used the same strip to check that the upper seat was going to work.  It seems as though it will.

 I have agonised for ages whether to go for painted backrests, or to have some nicely varnished teak.  In the end the teak won.  It didn't take that long to cut it up and stick it on and made good use of a heap of offcuts I had kicking about.

 From above, the after end is finally starting to look like a boat.

 And here is a view with the other bulkhead cut down to size.

 Both seats slope from aft forwards.  This is not only to ensure the water runs off, it also means that as you move aft you get a better view, which can be an advantage when you are coming in to pick up a mooring.  The sheer in the seats also reflects the (rather splendid) sheer in the bulwark and I love the overall feel of it.

 The backrests were another thing that have been in and out dozens of times while I fitted the framing along the top and checked and measured other things that needed to be considered.  There has to be space for the laundry basket, which appears in several photos: this will hold the kedge anchor, chain and warp and I want to be able to lift it all out and lower it into the dinghy, if needs be.  It's a lot easier to handle in a basket.

 Fitting the framing along the top of the backrest.  This is for the locker lids to land on.

 Finally, I could glue in the backrests.  I didn't want to screw through to the frame on deck, so I screwed the backrests at each end and used slightly springy lengths of wood to hold them firmly at the base.  The glue squeezed out in a very satisfactory manner.

 I've given a certain amount of thought to additional ventilation in the boat.  While the Air-only dorade that I fitted should be adequate most of the time, I am concerned that in winter, with the boat shut up against wind and rain and the fire lit, there won't be sufficient air coming into the boat.  I have added a sort of dorade arrangement within the deck box.  Under the locker top and well inboard, it would take a catastrophe for water to enter - and I would probably have more to worry about than a few litres of water in the lazarette at that stage.  I used skin fittings - the pipe is very strong and glues into place with epoxy.  I just put them in temporarily for the moment, to make it easier to paint out the lockers.

With the backrest in place, I could fit dividers for the lockers.  I used 12mm ply, to help stiffen up the deck.  The reason for their being so unsymmetrical is that the forward, smaller locker is there to take the tail of the sheet/halliard.  The middle one is for the kedge basket and as I don't know which side it will end up, I made it the same size both sides.

Now I need to paint the lockers, finish the aftermost ones, make lids, put down teak and, probably, put some teak slats in the lockers to reduce water being trapped by gear.

Just a few little jobs

I wonder if it's just me, or does everybody find that "I'll just do this ..." jobs are the ones that take forever.  Its seems to be the silliest little jobs that take the longest.

While I was laying the deck, the intention had been to 'pop' down below and finish off all those little jobs that hadn't been done, while I was waiting for glue to dry.  Great idea, but failed in practice because there were always so many other things to do while the glue was drying.  No worries, I said to myself, I'll just knock them over and get on with the cockpit.  That was three weeks ago and last week I wrote out the list of what still needs to be done.  I don't think I'll be starting the cockpit next week, either.  I seem to have spent half of the past few weeks going in an out of Whangarei looking for bits and pieces.  Most of what I've been doing is hardly worth photographing (finishing the wiring to a 12 volt plug in the saloon, which involved trying to find decent cable clips - Paul at All Marine ended up giving me some nice copper ones he had left over from one of his jobs; cutting hose for the 'plumbing' to exactly the right length, etc, etc,)  However, there are one or two photos that might be of interest, so it's probably worth writing my blog today.

 Many moons ago, I tried to purchase the most wonderful little woodburner, only to find it was no longer in production.  So I bought Raoul's Flick which was almost as nice, but was black all over.  I like a bit of colour and as the poor wee thing was a bit scratched from having been ordered long before it was required, I decided to paint it in two colours.  So part of it is a sort of dark sage colour and the rest is black.  It looks pretty good, actually, but more so in the flesh than in the photo.

 However, when reading the instructions (yes, I do!) I saw that they suggested firing it up before installing it, because the paint has to be 'seasoned', so to speak, like a good frying pan.  What fun!  I've been desperate for an excuse to see how it goes.

 Well, as you can see, it goes very well indeed.  It was the easiest thing to light and went off like a little rocket.  The damper is just amazing: close it off and the fire almost goes out, open it a wee crack and it comes back to life: wide open and you have a little blast furnace going.  As so many people have told me that I'm installing the fire all wrong, it's nice to know that I can shut if off so effectively.  It should reassure them.  Anyway, I left the damper wide open and sure enough, once the stove had got good and hot, I could see fumes rising from the surface.  I just hope it was hot enough for long enough.

 A lifetime of being short of cash has made me somewhat chary of throwing things out and sometimes this pays off.  Again, many moons have passed since I cut out the holes for the port holes, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them away, so stacked them under the bench.  Well, I had cut out two 127 mm holes in my deck (for the decklight and chimney) and needed spacers around these holes between the headliner and the deck.  Not only were my cutouts the ideal size, but the hole up the middle allowed me align them perfectly.

 I then took the 127mm hole saw (thank you, Norsand) and cut out the correct size hole.  Clever, eh?

 In the meantime, I had got out varnish for some reason, so could put some on the brass and finally fit the remaining portholes.  (Or starboard holes as one wag would put it.)  Finally, they are all in.  You might think it's extremely idle of me to try and put off polishing these.  Correct.

 Neurotic as I am about leaks and rot, I did the WEST thing on the machine screws for the chimney.  The red thing in the background is (inexplicably) known as a chimney jack and is of a very special silicone rubber that is supposed to tolerate a higher temperature than is normally the case.  It comes in red, red or red, to differentiate if from the less heat-resistant type of  'jack'.  I dare say I can live with it.  The best thing I can see with it is that it can move up and down with the chimney, as it expands and contracts.  From past experience, the vertical component of this can be disconcerting to say the least.

 This is one of the holes in the deck.  I think the one for the chimney, but they all looked much the same.

 And here I am fitting the Air-only ventilator that goes in the heads.  They are complicated things to fit, and being somewhat dumb about these things, I had to print out the instructions to ensure that nothing was forgotten.

Having fitted it, I am entirely convinced that it will keep the water out (watch this video if you want to be reassured); however, I'm not entirely convinced that it will let any air in!!

 Still, it looks very seamanlike on deck, next to my lovely little decklight.  (Davey's via Classic Marine)

 These chimney jacks are a wonderfully snug fit, but my copper downspout (yes, I know it will probably melt) has a seam on the back.  I had to go and buy some bolts for it from Steelmasters because the ones that came with the jack were (a) magnetic stainless and (b) the wrong length.  While I was there I saw they had this (apparently) magic silicone tape, which bonds to itself and is very heat resistant.  I could press it into the seam, and rolled up a couple of little sausages of the tape to put on either side.  I hope it works!

And finally, I have just about got all the trim cut and fitted.  These fiddly little bits of wood are enough to drive me into a nervous decline.  Dry fitted, they certainly made a big difference, however.  Once they are all varnished they should finish off the deckhead very neatly.

A bit more teak - and then back inside

I was, I think understandably, quite keen to get my teak decks laid; I still had interior trim, lights and hatch trim to fit, but I thought I'd do it 'when I had some spare time'.  Whatever induced me to come up with this flight of whimsy, I wot not because, needless to say, there was no spare time. So, the teak was laid and the interior had not been touched.  The first job in the cockpit is going to be fitting the bridgedeck.  This is going to make going in and out of the cabin a lot less easy than it is now, so commonsense dictates that I get the interior completely finished before I commence work on the cockpit.

I still had some teak to lay - on the deck box lids, so decided to do that first, because they would need teak plugs and there were a few to be fitted on deck, too.  Besides, my mind finds it difficult to move from one mode of building to another, so it seemed sensible to carry on with teak before I lost the thread, so to speak.

 The deck is laminated, you may recall, from one layer of 6mm ply and one layer of 4mm.  I doubted anything was going to be fitting to the nearest millimetre, so reckoned 9mm ply would be fine for the lids.  These were duly cut out and coated.

 Additional framing had to be added along the sides for the lids to land on.  Much cogitating took place while I decided whether to hinge them inboard or outboard.  Gordon, (Tystie's new owner) mentioned that if they were hinged inboard, like his are, there is a possibility of stuff falling out of them, if you are heeled well over and have forgotten to fasten them down.  Or so he has been told ...  I decided put the hinges outboard, so this also required some more wood fitting around the boxes.

 Then came the fun bit of fitting the teak.

 While I was at it, I took some of the narrower stock (which will get used up in the cockpit) and trimmed along the edge of the cabin.  I raised this to obtain a little more headroom, and as I want the (upper) rubbing strake to run in a fair line along the sheer, it can now run under the teak, which will be varnished.  I trust it will all look as though it was intended from the start, when the boat is completed!

 The deck box with the extra bits of wood fitted around it.  Thank heavens for epoxy, is all I can say.  It is so good for this sort of 'retrofitting', which would otherwise require high levels of joinery.  I'm not quite sure how I could even fasten things together, if I were building conventionally.

 Meanwhile, back on the bench, the deck boxes get their teak glued down ...

 and then sanded smooth.

 Then a 'dry fit' before sealing the edges.  However, even I didn't find these too challenging to fit.

 And for once, I didn't struggle with the (simplest in the world to fit) hinges.

What you may not have noticed, but I shall point them out to you in case, are the 308 teak plugs that have been fitted in the screw holes.  I was astounded that I need so many!

 I hope that the lids will rest at a slight angle against the guard rails.  If they don't I shall have to make some sort of hook and eye arrangement to keep them in place.

 OK, back to the interior.  The piece of kauri is to hold the light fitting.  It couldn't be put in place until the beading was fitted and so the wires have been sticking out of the bulkhead for what seems like months.  (I tested them and was relieved to find that none of the zillion screws that went into my deck had cut through them!)

 None of my kauri is long enough to go right across the cabin.  The camber, as you will note, is pronounced and it is exceedingly difficult to force even these dinky bits of quadrant into place with out fastening them permanently.  I am hoping that I can fit one properly and then cut the second accurately to length.  I would reckon the odds at 10:1 at best!

 Fitting the mounting for the lamp.  The wiring isn't just hidden because I'm precious (although of course I am): it's hidden because there is no appropriate groove in the base of the lamp for it to run down.  It's going to be fun and games when I finally come to fit it, I fear.

 Meanwhile, interior trim will need to be fitted around exterior openings.  The hatches are fitted, but still to go are a decklight over the heads, a dorade ventilator ditto and the big hole for the pram hood.  The first two can be dealt with by using hole saws and I went and borrowed one for the decklight. It was intensely traumatic cutting a hole in my beautiful deck!

 I had to go back and complete the job from inside.

 All so that I can fit this.

 Ah yes, another hole - I need one for the chimney for my wood burner.  I thought the black lacked class, so have repainted a nice green.

 The flue is to be made from copper downspout.  Some teeth have been sucked about this being too thin.  Time will tell, but the price was right, seeing as how the kind people in the shop found me a damaged length.  Of course, it won't look nice and shiny like this once the fire has been lit.

Because the stove was built with the intention of fitting something totally different, the hole for the flue was a completely different size from the downspout.  After much head scratching, I went into Whangarei to see if I could find some sort of reducer.  To cut a long story short, with helpful people passing me along to other helpful people, finally a gentlemen called Carl lent me his dad's crimping tool, saying 'that's how we used to do it'.  I managed well enough, even if I did have to use both hands and was right impressed with the result.

 I reckoned I'd better fit the bit of copper that will be used to protect the bulkhead, while I was at it.  Paul, at All Marine had the brilliant idea of using copper roves to provide for a nice wee air gap.  I felt like a real boat builder, hammering in copper nails!

The +/- 150mm copper strip had been given to me, cut from a wider length.  I could hardly plane it smooth, so took to it with a file: good enough, I think.  (The reason is looks a funny colour is that it still has its plastic film over it.)

Before I can fit the wood burner, I have to light it to 'season' it as it were.  The paint gives off fumes on the first occasion.  Definitely a job for outdoors, fine weather and a calm day.