Winter Storage

Freshly rested and full of new energy, we return to Mabul from our vacation in Colombia. But in addition to beautiful memories, we also bring back a far-reaching decision: after three intense, exciting, and at the same time exhausting years, we need a longer break from life at sea to finally find peace again. So the Pacific Ocean and the Panama Canal will have to wait another six months until we and Mabul are ready for the next adventure. To prevent further mishaps, we decide to park Mabul in the dry dock of the Panamarina during hurricane season – at least there she can’t sink herself. The coming weeks will therefore be dominated by a special task: putting our sailboat into winter storage in the tropics.

Back in Panama, we are greeted by oppressive, humid heat on Mabul – a sharp contrast to the cool mountain regions of Colombia. At first, this isn’t particularly motivating, but we have a plan: over the next six weeks, we want to complete the last remaining projects and prepare Mabul so that it can manage on its own for almost half a year. To do this, we need to finally finish unfinished work, remove the traces of Jack’s nighttime rescue mission, clean and tidy Mabul thoroughly – and last but not least, eat or give away all the provisions.

We start with the bigger items on the to-do list. First up is the electric genoa winch on the starboard side, which needs to be reattached. While we were away, Nelson, our favorite mechanic, repaired the drive shaft between the winch and the motor, including the bearings, and made it work again. First, I mount the aluminum base plate and carefully seal it with Sikaflex 295 UV adhesive – after all, there is a huge hole in the boat here so that the electric motor can be flanged on from below. Before attaching the other parts, I generously coat all components with grease to protect the damaged aluminum from further corrosion. Next, I install the motor and 90-degree gearbox before inserting the connecting shaft from above. This had seized up so badly due to corrosion that the motor could no longer move it and we needed an 8-ton jack to drive it out. Now, however, it slides effortlessly into the new bearings and turns again as if nothing had ever happened. A new oil seal on the top also ensures that no more water can enter this sensitive area of the mechanism.

The winch itself takes ten minutes to assemble, thanks to its simple design and also because I’ve done it often enough for maintenance purposes. Then it’s just a quick matter of cleaning the electrical contacts, connecting the wiring, and everything is ready to go. The first test with the hand handle goes smoothly – how could it be otherwise? But the decisive moment comes with the motor: one press of the switch and the winch turns powerfully and quietly as never before. Done! I also treat the port side to a new oil seal at the deck opening and a dose of grease. Now both winches should serve reliably for the foreseeable future.

We are glad that we allowed ourselves plenty of time for preparations. This means that, in addition to the work on board, there is also room for activities away from the boat. We regularly head out to the nearby mangrove canal in the late afternoon and just drift along. We also treat ourselves to some culinary delights, as all food should be used up before we leave Mabul behind. We have had too many unpleasant encounters with bugs in our provisions – a scenario that, fortunately, is easy to avoid.

As the weather is currently dry and stable, we are venturing into a particularly unpopular project: sealing the cover of the companionway hatch. The old sealant had long since disintegrated, and I had already removed most of it weeks ago. However, it became clear to me how difficult it would be to replace the seal, as the cover cannot be completely removed. It is clamped in place by the permanently mounted sprayhood, so I can only move it about 30 centimeters forward and backward. Karin has spent hours over the last few days scraping away the stubborn remains of the old sealant, and now the time has finally come: we get down to the actual work. We both spend almost two hours bending, pushing, squeezing, smearing, and picking so that I can apply Sikaflex with the cartridge everywhere. In the end, even the thicker joints are cleanly finished, and the result is quite something. Even in rain and waves, it should now stay dry behind the instrument panel – and just two days later, a heavy tropical shower confirms the success of our efforts.

Karin is now preoccupied with another issue. Since our return from Colombia, there are practically no bananas left to buy in Panama. Karin asks the fruit and vegetable sellers why this is: because the banana workers on the Chiquita plantations are on strike. Karin senses a bigger story and decides to investigate on the ground. Together with Martin, she sails on Amelié to Bocas del Toro, where the large plantations are located in the hills north of Changuinola. The report has now been published in the NZZ and can be read here and listened to as a radio report on SRF. Meanwhile, I’m staying on Mabul and taking my time to take care of the remaining projects. Karin will be away for about ten days – and when she returns, at the latest, we’ll have to start the actual preparations for putting the sailboat into winter storage in the tropics.

Fortunately, the remaining projects are manageable. First, I install the end cap of the toe rail on the starboard side – now all the holes in Mabul’s deck are completely sealed again. The old bolt had snapped off, and the nut was buried deep in the laminate. Fortunately, the problem could be solved pragmatically: drill completely through the deck, bolt through, and seal it. Next up are the break-in marks left by Jack, who fortunately proceeded with surgical precision. I glue the finger strip, which broke into three pieces, back together and put it back on the front of the sliding hatch. I had actually planned to replace the old strip with a new one, but that would have been much more complicated and the original material is almost impossible to find. So now the repaired strip fits almost flawlessly into the picture—more beautiful than expected and, above all, more authentic than a new part in a different color.

After work, I usually go to the dry dock, check on how Tintamare is progressing with the installation of the hydraulic autopilot, or sit down with Jack over a cold beer and ponder how best to attach his swiveling electric motors to his catamaran. After spending so much time in the small marina, I now know everyone personally and follow their boat projects closely. Back on Mabul, I devote myself to one or two cupboards or storage compartments every day: I empty them completely, wipe them thoroughly with vinegar to prevent mold, and critically check the contents. Everything is re-inventoried, also cleaned with vinegar, and carefully put back in place. I work my way through the entire boat piece by piece – from bow to stern, from top to bottom. As a reward for this work, we end up with a thoroughly cleaned boat that will hopefully have no, or at least significantly less, mold when we return in November.

Since our generator is often moody when starting, I go looking for faults. If I’ve learned anything in the last three years, it’s that in cases like this, the cables or electrical contacts are most likely to blame. To get immediate clarity, I measure the voltage with a multimeter directly at the generator’s starter motor. With a 12-volt electrical system, the voltage may drop briefly to just under 10 volts during start-up due to the high current flow. But my meter shows an alarmingly low 5.2 volts, while the starter motor turns slowly and laboriously. No wonder, then, that the generator regularly aborts its start attempts with a “low battery” message. On the battery itself, however, I measure a solid 10.5 volts. It is only two years old, was installed in Martinique, and is in perfect working order. This means that over 5 volts are “leaking” somewhere in the cables – caused by excessively high line resistance. No wonder, because the existing cables only have a cross-section of 25 mm², are undersized for their length of four meters, and are also made up of two separate pieces. So I replace them with continuous, thick 50 mm² cables. When I test it again, I measure 10.1 volts, and when the starter turns, I almost take cover – it has never been so fast and powerful. The generator starts immediately. It couldn’t be clearer: problem solved.

The clearing out and rearranging on Mabul is beginning to bear fruit: I have already given away or disposed of a whole lot of useless stuff. Everything that is allowed to stay now has a fixed place. Spare parts for the stove? Right at the bottom, that’s not critical. The spare bilge pump and the putty epoxy, on the other hand, are now in easily accessible places – after all, in an emergency at sea, such things must be immediately at hand. This also saves space and gives us some more free room on board. Meanwhile, Karin has finished her investigation and is already on her way back to Linton Bay. ETA: two days.

Then I make an unexpected discovery. Since we had already stowed the genoa, I can inspect the furling system more closely—especially the aluminum profile on which the sail is normally furled. This profile is pushed over the forestay, is almost as long as the stay, and reaches almost to the top of the mast. A rotating swivel runs along it, which is used to pull the sail up. If the profile were too short, the swivel would slip out at the top and get stuck there. It would then be almost impossible to stow the sail – and that can quickly become a serious hazard at sea. As I check the furling system, I notice that the aluminum profile can be moved up and down. It should actually be firmly fixed in place, but here it is simply lying loosely on the turn buckle – i.e., as far down as it can go. The set screw that should secure it is already half out of its crumbled thread, and the clear pressure mark on the profile tells me that it was originally fixed about twelve centimeters higher. Twelve centimeters! We were really lucky that the swivel never slipped out at the top.

At first glance, the repair sounds simple: remove the set screw, drill out the old thread, cut a new thread, and insert a Helicoil. And just like that, you have a brand-new stainless steel thread that fits the old screw again. But one problem remains: when drilling and cutting, I have to go deeper into the material with the tool than is actually possible – because the aluminum profile is right behind it. As a solution, I push the profile on the forestay as far up as possible and secure it there with a rope. This gives me enough space to work, but at the same time I have to be extremely careful not to hit the stay itself while drilling – that would be a disaster. After some swearing, the Helicoil is finally in place, the set screw holds the profile at the correct height again, and the stay is intact.

The next day, Karin arrives and finds Mabul cleared out. The saloon table is covered with all the food, only the perfectly sealed and extremely long-lasting Travellunch is allowed to stay. After a joyful welcome, a brief discussion of the situation follows. All projects completed, all food taken out, half of the cupboards done. Now we can concentrate on the actual work of putting the sailboat into winter storage in the tropics. I have created two lists for this – one with tasks that need to be done before we lift the boat out of the water and one for afterwards. We spend the first few days stowing the sails, dismantling, cleaning, and stowing the lazy bag, removing lines from the running rigging, and securing what remains. Anything that is packed away cannot turn green. We remove all reefing and auxiliary lines, sheets, and adjusters. Only halyards are allowed to remain.

I fill the diesel tank up to the very top again so that as little air as possible remains in the tank. This prevents condensation from forming on the inside wall and getting into the diesel. I sell our remaining diesel and gasoline reserves in jerry cans to Hernando from SV Tintamare at half price – at least diesel doesn’t keep indefinitely in a tropical climate. The gasoline in the carburetors of the outboard motor and compressor also has to be drained. If it were to remain there for months, it would stick and clog the fine nozzles and channels inside. Since I have to open the carburetors for this anyway, I treat them to a thorough cleaning with brake cleaner before reinstalling them on the respective engines.

In just a few days, the time will have come: Mabul will be hauled out of the water. The flights to Colombia have been booked and Casa Pajero has been rented. We are well on schedule, and yet everything is taking an astonishingly long time. We should never have planned for less than six weeks. Mabul is visibly emptying – we are giving away a lot of things that we know we will no longer eat. And now even the last, most inaccessible storage compartment has been thoroughly cleaned and refilled.

Then we have another birthday to celebrate at sea! Or rather, in the mangroves. Today, I’m spoiling the birthday princess with all kinds of culinary delicacies, and work can rest for a while. Instead, Karin can devote herself to the many congratulations and phone calls, and I spend the morning in the galley cooking and baking. In the afternoon, we dinghy with Martin into our beloved mangrove canal and toast with a gin and tonic from a thermos behind the reef. Karin has invited everyone to the Panamarina restaurant for the evening – and sure enough, everyone comes.

Two days later, we empty the fridge and take the essentials to the small room we have rented in the marina. Then the time has come: Mabul is hauled out of the water and we disembark. Life on board would be almost unbearable on dry land anyway – the toilet and fridge are unusable, there is no breeze blowing through the boat, the heat builds up and mosquitoes gather in swarms. The lifting itself goes smoothly, now a routine – it’s already the third time here. And yet it feels different: for the first time, it’s not for repair reasons, but only for long-term parking. A glance at the underwater hull brings relief: everything is intact, no new damage, and even the last repair to the keel has held. A short, deep sigh of relief.

Once Mabul is safely parked in her berth, we take care of the most important tasks. We place the anchor and chain on a pallet under the boat. This allows the chain to dry after every rain, keeps it out of the permanently damp anchor locker, and should help it survive its time on land better. I rinse both toilets thoroughly with fresh water and then dry them completely. That should make the pumps happy. In the meantime, Karin takes care of all the textiles on board. Everything is washed, dried, and sealed in large vacuum bags with our handheld vacuum cleaner. This should reliably prevent mold. Even the freshly washed bimini and lazy bag are packed away in airtight bags. We are curious to see whether all this effort will really pay off in the end.

Then we thoroughly rinse both our propulsion engine and the diesel generator with fresh water. This is primarily to protect the heat exchanger and lift muffler from unnecessary corrosion. I probably spent far too long pondering the best way to do this – in the end, it’s surprisingly simple. A hose is sufficient; in our case, even the cockpit shower was enough: simply spray into the open seawater strainer and start the engine. It is important to close the seacock beforehand so that no water runs off unused. The amount of water flowing through is, of course, significantly less than when Mabul draws the cooling water directly from the sea, but it is perfectly adequate when the engine is idling and cold – in this case, it is more a matter of lubricating the rubber impeller of the water pump than cooling. We flush both diesel engines in this way for around three minutes each. Now all the salt water should have been reliably replaced by fresh water.

To keep Mabul completely mold-free, we have a dehumidifier on board. However, it only runs on 110-volt shore power – and consumes quite a bit of it. But there is no power at all in the marina’s storage area. So another solution was needed: the dehumidifier had to be powered by the service batteries, despite the fact that around a quarter of the power from our PV system would be covered in storage. I solved the problem in Daniel Düsentrieb style: I bought a 110-volt inverter that is controlled by a relay from the Victron MPPT solar charge controller. The charge controller has a load output that can be switched on and off in a variety of ways. After weeks of fine-tuning, I set the parameters so that the load output is activated as soon as the on-board voltage exceeds 14.2 volts. In Mabul’s setup, this means that the batteries are almost fully charged at this point. Then the inverter kicks in – and with it the dehumidifier. It draws an impressive 100 amps on the 12-volt side, which should not be underestimated! This is why the voltage immediately drops to around 13.5 volts. If the on-board voltage then falls below 13.0 volts, the charge controller automatically switches the load output off again. The batteries are then still about 75% full and thus have enough reserve power even for several rainy days in a row. Since almost all systems are switched off, consumption on board is very low. If you want to know how I implemented this in detail, please feel free to contact me by email: [email protected]

After three exhausting days on land, the job is done: all surfaces have been thoroughly wiped down with vinegar, all textiles vacuum-packed, the cupboards opened, and small cups of chlorine distributed throughout the boat. In addition, three fans will circulate the air in Mabul over the coming months. Together with the dehumidifier, this should hopefully keep Mabul mold-free until we return in mid-November after almost six months away. Until then, Jack will check on things at regular intervals and keep us up to date.

We spend one last night at the marina and the next day we are sitting in a taxi early in the morning on our way to the airport. Colombia, here we come! This time, I don’t find Mabul’s keys in my bag. They are in the marina office, where they should be. We have also learned from all the other mistakes we made last time. Whether that will be enough for Mabul to forgive us for our absence this time, we will only find out when we return.

Our thoughts are already in Colombia: Should we buy a motorcycle—or just rent one? What people and animals will we encounter? A new chapter is beginning, and we are looking forward to getting back down to earth after so much water.

Related Boatcast episodes: