Boatjobs on the hard

Boat projects hurricane season 2024 part 2

This blog entry was actually supposed to appear in December. But as is so often the case, life got in the way – or more precisely: Mabul, with ever new projects. Writing was low on the list of priorities. Now, six months later, it’s finally happening. Better late than never, as they say….

I have spent six weeks on home leave – time with family and friends in my home country of Bavaria and in Switzerland. After such a long time, I was particularly pleased to see Karin again. For weeks it was just phone calls and messages, and now we’re finally in the same room again. No screen, no time difference. Simply real. But I’m also experiencing absolute culture shock at being back in Western society after such a long time at sea. I can’t really cope. Reintegration? Not so much. I haven’t been to Germany in any significant way for over five years, so I see everything from a new, unfamiliar perspective. Above all, the nature with mountains, mixed forest, lakes and rivers is simply incredibly fascinating. Then, after beautiful and exhausting weeks, it’s time to say goodbye again. We part ways again and I return to Panama, to Mabul, to start the dry dock projects in the hurricane season 2024.

If you haven’t read the first part yet, you can find it here.

My luggage is outrageous. I have a backstay, generator housing cover, windlass gypsy and coupling, half a winch and countless small parts with me, a total of around 80 kilos of boat parts. Of course, so much metal in my luggage arouses the curiosity of customs and I have to drop my pants, or at least open my bags. A little drama is brewing, as the officials have almost finished work and I don’t have a single bill with me. I hear “mañana, mañana” too often again, but then I manage to buy my way out with two random bills in German. The deal costs me 200 dollars, and it’s hard to say how much of it is a bribe. But it’s still better than spending a night in Panama City and paying almost as much the next day… So late at night I finally reach the Turtle Cay Marina, where Mabul is actually still floating.

During my home leave, I also rethought my relationship with Mabul – and how I spend my time on the boat in general. I want to create more space: for myself, for Karin and for things that have nothing to do with repairs. I want to prioritize in a more structured and relaxed way so that the boat projects don’t dominate everything again. The first question is: Is water coming in? Is the boat sinking? If not, the issue goes on the list and not immediately on the table. This helps me to keep an overview and not chase after every little thing.

I also want to do one thing at a time in future. No more multitasking. That only leads to restlessness, delays and frustration. When I finish one thing, my head is free for the next. And I stay motivated. I also try to incorporate regular days off, something like a weekend. I don’t start anything new on them. Instead, I tidy up, cook, take care of small things or simply leave everything lying around. It feels good and Mabul can cope with it.

Shortly after my return to Mabul, I also decided that when Karin comes back, the boat should be in a finished state. By far the most important and time-consuming project is the worn-out rudder bearings. They have to be removed, measured, remade and reinstalled. With Mabul, however, this is only possible on land, as the steering tube ends below the waterline. So it’s clear: before Karin returns, the boat has to be taken out of the water again – and back again. I am actually also planning a trip to Colombia. But the risk of running into time pressure or losing sight of the project is too great for me. So I deliberately postpone the trip to make sure that Mabul is ready when Karin arrives.

However, before I set off for the Panamarina to haul Mabul ashore, I want to complete a few unfinished projects in the Turtle Cay Marina. Because as long as the boat is afloat, life on board is much more pleasant: the toilet works, the fridge runs and the temperatures remain bearable.

With fresh energy, I start the first steps – completely relaxed and without rushing, one thing at a time. I calmly pull up the new backstay, fit the repaired winch, replace the broken lifeline and take care of a few other side projects. It feels good. No new projects, no unexpected problems, just putting everything back together.

The first big project I’m tackling again is our leaking generator. It has been lying untouched in the cockpit locker for months, disassembled and with a crack in the housing cover. Of course, as is so often the case, it turns out to be worse than expected, even though I have actually brought all the parts I need from Germany. But the outer rotor of the oil pump has also disintegrated into three individual parts, so a replacement is needed. On top of that, I realize that I overlooked some special plugs and dowel pins when ordering. At least I can repair the crankshaft with a thin stainless steel sleeve so that the oil seal on the water pump drive runs on a clean sealing surface again. Now I have to wait until the missing parts arrive. The generator goes back into the cockpit locker for the time being – until the next attempt.

Then I start troubleshooting the bow thruster. It just doesn’t do anything any more. It quickly becomes clear that the bidirectional high-current relay has been worse affected by the salt water shower on the way to Cayo Albuquerque than initially thought. The bolts that move in the two solenoids and close the electrical contacts are completely corroded. The real problem: I can’t simply open the solenoid housings to make the bolts move again. They are welded and cannot be reassembled without a welding machine. And there’s simply no room for screws or anything similar. But then there’s Jaco. He has been welding his own boat with stoic perseverance for weeks. Maybe he can help me.

Jaco takes a quick look at the whole thing and immediately says: “Sure, I’ll do it – it’ll only take a few minutes!” So I grind up both solenoids with the angle grinder and start the complete restoration. At this point I should mention that the entire relay unit costs a hefty 500 dollars from the manufacturer – so it’s worth putting some work into it. First I thoroughly remove the rust from the parts with muriatic acid, then I carefully reassemble everything. The steel bolts now slide smoothly back into their guides. Finally, Jaco reassembles the housings cleanly and precisely in just a few minutes.

To test, I connect the individual lifting magnets directly to the on-board battery: CLACK – CLACK. The bolts have never hit the mechanical stop with such force. Fantastic. I reassemble the complete unit, make a splash guard from an old jerry can and mount the whole thing back onto the bow thruster motor. The final test: does the motor turn reliably in both directions? Yes! That concludes this chapter – and Mabul has one more functioning system. A reassuring feeling, especially for the upcoming passage through the Panama Canal.

Before I sail with Mabul to the Panamarina to replace the worn-out rudder bearings, there is one last task on the agenda: the propeller needs to be cleared of fouling. And after more than four months of standing still in the water, a small reef has formed there. Fortunately, the water is reasonably clear for once and I can borrow a long hose with a regulator from Matt. The scuba tank can stay on deck and I have all the time in the world to give the propeller and shaft a good scraping.

Matt accompanies me on the passage to the Panamarina. The trip is short, but it’s much more relaxed with two people – especially when mooring at the buoy or if something happens on the way. We cast off two days later. Mabul glides slowly through the narrow channel of the marina, out into the open sea. There is hardly any wind, so we sail under engine power for almost three hours. It picks up briefly and I set the genoa. It’s good to see a full sail, even if it’s only for a moment.

The passage is calm and smooth, and shortly before noon Mabul is safely moored at the Panamarina’s waiting buoy. Matt and I have a relaxed lunch, then I buy him a taxi-ride back to Turtle Cay Marina. As soon as Matt is on his way back to the marina, the Panamarina crew appears. Two guys jump on board and take over the lines, while the third stays in the dinghy and helps me maneuver. Together we bring Mabul precisely onto the trailer waiting under water. Less than five minutes later, she is ashore and getting her belly washed.

Before Mabul can be parked in her place in the dry dock, the rudder has to be removed. It weighs around 170 kilos and is huge. To create enough height to remove it, the crew maneuvers Mabul backwards over the embankment at the edge of the mangroves. I set about dismantling it: first I remove the quadrant – a massive, crescent-shaped aluminum part that sits directly on the rudder shaft, just above the steering tube. It is connected to the steering system via two cables and transmits every movement of the steering wheel to the rudder. As soon as it is removed, only the safety pin at the top holds the rudder in place. It is already free to turn. The crew then secures the rudder with a net and two lines so that it doesn’t suddenly crash into the mangroves with full force as soon as the safety pin is removed. We lift the rudder slightly to take the load off the pin and I remove it. Then we relax the lines, let go slowly and nothing happens.

The safety pin actually only holds a stainless steel ring at the very top of the rudder shaft – and it is precisely this ring that bears the entire weight of the rudder. But even though the pin is out, the ring is bombproof. The question immediately arises as to why the ring does not come loose: Is it screwed onto a thread or simply stuck due to corrosion? Gentle persuasion doesn’t help, so phase two follows: brute force. Anything that promises leverage is used. We hit, squeeze, twist and hope. But the ring hardly moves at all; after more than two hours of exhausting work, it has only moved a maximum of two millimeters. At least it is now clear that there is no thread. Then the crew call it a day. We’ll continue tomorrow morning. There’s nothing I can do on my own now anyway, apart from regularly dripping rust remover onto the joint and hoping that it does something overnight.

The next morning, the action continues with renewed energy and even more violence. After hair-raising scenes, the ring finally comes off. No thread, hardly any corrosion, but rough, scratched surfaces were the reason. And then it goes very gently, we let the rudder sink slowly and in a controlled manner into the mangroves and it’s out. Wow, what a struggle. But it was only supposed to be the prelude…

Once Mabul is in its place in the dry dock and the rudder is next to it, I start setting up my little construction site. I connect the water hose and shore power, unpack the folding bike, pump it up – and sort everything out of the freezer box. The contents are quickly given away to other cruisers, as the box will have to serve as a fridge in future. Our regular fridge doesn’t work on land as it is cooled by a water heat exchanger – efficient at sea, useless on land.

And then the rudder bearings can finally be removed. These are not ordinary metal ball bearings, but simple plastic sleeves. Mabul has three of them – and they all fit snugly in their bearing seats. So the first step is to build tools. I construct a simple puller from scrap parts and a long threaded rod in the center, with which the bearings can be driven out in a controlled manner and without brute force. It takes a whole day. The upper and middle bearings are particularly tricky: they are located directly next to the rudder quadrant, which can only be reached through a narrow opening in the aft cabin. The access is so narrow that I can just about fit my shoulders through it. After a few adjustments and test runs, the puller finally works as planned and I get the bearings out without destroying them. It’s hot, tight and takes ages, but at the end of the day I have the first two bearings in my hands. The lower bearing is done quickly the next day – the tool is ready, access from the outside is easy. Almost a no-brainer.

The old bearings must now be measured and the new ones adapted. The upper bearing should be slightly longer to make full use of the existing bearing seat. For the lower bearing, I change the position of the O-rings slightly, as the steering tube shows slight signs of corrosion at the previous position. The biggest challenge, however, lies in the correct dimensioning of the inner diameter – the bearing must be able to withstand temperature fluctuations and still not be too tight, otherwise the rudder will become stiff or block completely. What’s more, the material used, Delrin, swells slightly if it is in permanent contact with water. My friend Christian, who has a PhD in mechanical engineering, calculates a professional bearing design for me. His result: 0.45 mm bearing clearance – at a temperature difference of 30 °C and a shaft diameter of 90.0 mm. To be on the safe side, I obtain empirical values from an old hand on site. Nelson, the mechanic I trust, comes up with almost the same value: “At least 0.40 mm,” he says, “but not much more.” Perfect – theory and practice are in agreement. I draw the new bearings with exactly 0.45 mm clearance and decide on an outer diameter that is 0.7 mm too large so that I can press them firmly into their seats.

I then hand over my hand drawings and the raw material to Nelson, who takes care of the production on a CNC machine in Panama City. This is the only way I can be sure that my required tolerances are met.

While I wait for the new bearings, I take care of another major project: the old crack above the keel joint aft is back. I had it repaired in Bocas del Toro – at the time I was fully occupied with aligning the engine. Now it’s paying off. Once again, it turns out that “having things done” is rarely a good idea with boats. So I grab the angle grinder and turn the laminate into dust until the crack is no longer visible. I go deep into the material to really remove all the weakened areas and deliberately work across the width so that the new structure has as large an adhesive surface as possible. The old repair was much smaller and used a lot of filler – not a good combination in such a critical area.

I don’t want to go into too much detail here – the work is the same as always: clean out the damaged area completely, then rebuild. I laminate with a high quality epoxy resin and woven 400 glass fiber mats to achieve maximum strength. In total, the build-up takes three days, as I can’t apply everything at once. Too much material at once would get too hot during curing and could cause stress cracks. Finally, I sand the new laminate layer smooth and seal everything with Coppercoat.

In the course of the laminating work, I also tackle smaller areas on the bow: around the bow thruster, I repair a few incipient osmosis spots. And I also touch up the coppercoat – wherever the layer has become too thin over the years and the primer is already showing through. After all, Mabul’s coppercoat has been around for over 20 years.

After I’ve given our bitchy autopilot a new, much thicker cable and done a lot of other little things, Nelson brings me the new rudder bearings.

In my experience, installation is almost always easier than removal. But not this time. As the new bearings have to be pressed in with a slight oversize, I first convert my puller into a press-fit tool. I start with the middle bearing, but immediately realize that it doesn’t work that way. The central threaded rod of my tool causes the bearing to tilt slightly again and again – it tilts away and threatens to wedge in the seat. So the next modification: I replace the central threaded rod with six threaded rods, evenly distributed on the outside. This allows me to make specific adjustments as soon as the bearing starts to tilt. The second attempt goes better, but it still doesn’t work. I just can’t get the bearing to sit straight in the seat.

Perhaps I meant a little too much with the excess? Probably. But I already have an idea: the bearing goes into the restaurant freezer. At around -25 °C, the outer diameter shrinks by around 0.5 mm according to Christian, enough to almost compensate for the oversize. This should at least allow me to fit the bearing cleanly – even without tools if necessary.

24 hours later, I get the bearing out of the freezer and hurry back to Mabul as fast as I can. Then I crawl back into the narrow quadrant dungeon. I actually manage to push the frozen bearing a few millimetres perfectly straight into the seat by hand. I then carefully drive it in further with a nylon hammer – before it expands again due to the heating and no longer moves. The modified press-in tool is then used for the last 20 millimeters. This time it works perfectly. Of course, with six threaded rods it takes six times as long – but the bearing fits perfectly and survived the installation undamaged. I follow the same procedure for the other two bearings – and this time everything goes as planned. At the end of the day, I’m sitting happily in the restaurant, telling my stories over a beer.

The next day, I ask myself the obvious question: How accurate is the inside diameter of the freshly pressed-in bearings now? It’s difficult to get close to the low-lying bearings with the caliper gauge – so a reliable measurement is hardly possible. After pondering for a moment, I go to Jack, who owns a 3D printer and offers his services to other cruisers. That same day, he prints me a test disk with an outer diameter of exactly 90.45 mm. This should – in theory – slide into the bearings very easily. But what can I say: the inner diameter has narrowed considerably as a result of the press-fit. The disk doesn’t even come close to going in. I suspect that the diameter is now even less than 90 mm, making it impossible to fit the rudder!

Now the question arises: What to do? Remove all three bearings again and have them reworked in Panama City? Not an option, that would take weeks again. That leaves the idea of grinding the bearings by hand. But the very thought creeps me out. First I have everything made to an accuracy of a tenth of a millimeter, only to then fiddle with it with sandpaper? Not really an option either.

Until Jack’s 3D printer comes back to my mind and my brain immediately starts designing a new tool. An attachment for the drill with which I can grind out the few tenths evenly, cleanly and in a controlled manner. The idea: a rotating rotor with minimal undersize, into which I clamp sandpaper. Plastic lips press the paper lightly against the inside of the bearing. By clamping several layers, I can even fine-tune the resulting diameter.

I draw the tool on the computer in 3D, and Jack starts printing the same day. The next morning, he hands me the finished part. It looks good, now it just has to work. I start carefully with very fine sandpaper and quickly realize that the principle works. I work my way forward bit by bit. For two full days, I spent what felt like thousands of new sandpaper sheets – and sanding, sanding, sanding. Then, finally, the time has come: my reference disk glides through all three bearings without any resistance. The insides feel polished and are absolutely even. And even if I don’t like patting myself on the back, the result could hardly be better.

As is so often the case, the whole operation ends up taking much longer than planned. The planned week turns into four, and the trip to Colombia is finally canceled. Day after day, I work against the clock, because Karin will soon be back in Panama. Just two days before her arrival, everything is finally done: the rudder bearings are in, the antifouling at the repair points is dry and the boat is prepared.

Mabul returns to the water just in time for Karin’s return on the same day. The rudder is installed immediately beforehand so that Mabul only has to go on the trailer once. A final moment full of tension: does everything fit? Does it move smoothly, but not too much? And above all – is it tight? The installation works perfectly, the rudder turns easily and no matter how hard I tug on it, there is no more bearing play. Then Mabul slides into the water and I take a closer look at the steering tube. Not a drop, everything stays dry. I sit in the cockpit, relieved, and enjoy the gentle rocking of Mabul. Karin arrives just three hours later and I take her onto Mabul in our dinghy.

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