The first night we were on the boat, I named the heater Jimmy Hendrix. The haze that came out of the ducts smelled like dirt and engine-like. The haze subsided, but the smell never truly did.
Shayne decided after talking to Ev about some engine matters that if we were going to move the hot water heater, now would be the time. This heating system is basically ripping apart the entire boat as we pull out ducting and install new ducts and wiring.
We scheduled the heater system and water heater to be replaced with a really awesome hydronic heating system. Of course, it started getting cold at night the past few nights, so we are all bundled in the master cabin, emerging in the morning to a pilot house and boat that could keep veggies crisp and has condensation on the windows. Couldn’t be better motivation to get this done.
Alex and Raquel from Seattle Boat Works installed the system itself, taking out the old Webasto heater and adding some squelches and yells to the wood grains of that particular part of the boat during install. He somehow folded his very large frame into a cabinet I got stuck in just yesterday near the new! amazing! Hurricane. He’s truly a superhero.
Shayne and I took it upon ourselves to pull the old ducts ourselves and install new smaller ones. Although the overall systems’ registers, main source, and ducting take more space, it’s being better distributed. I already got super excited that there will be one cabinet in the galley where I’ll win back a ton of space. I’ve yet to squirrel away food in this boat, so every time I find more space I get excited about a new place to stash things.
We gleefully pulled the first and probably cleanest diesel smelling blue ducting from the boat on Thursday. There was a discussion about reusing the ducting after a hard cleaning, but they all smelled like a truck stop. Not the area with the chicken dumplings and the Elvis music, but the area where everyone fills their tanks, cleans their boots, and drops long-hauled trash to be ground into bits by the passing of tons of trucks and time.
After pulling all of the ick soaked ducting on Friday and throwing it onto the dock, we’ve been racing against the clock, more particularly the weather, to get the new pretty red ducting in. It’s snaking pretty much all the way across and around the boat. We are getting an up close view of almost the entire boat, which is a great thing to do before winter and we won’t be cold. That’s what I say to myself when I’m wondering why we did this. We will be thankful later.
It’s been a few days of drilling holes and running heavy wiring. We learned a few things so far.
Buffer zone for scary cuts/drills: Shayne got a little nervous drilling toward the hull of the boat to run wiring, so I threw a piece of plywood between the boat and the area that the drill would go through as a buffer. Worked great.
Clean in prep for trashed: We are trying to always put everything away, realizing that we might have to take it all apart to do a project. The cleaner the overall boat, the easier it is to trash it quickly to get something done.
As it is in living on a dock, everyone knows what we are doing with the boat. This knowledge of your life increases of course, by how much you speak of it and how many people see the action. Shayne tends to be the talker, and we are at the end of the 1/4 mile pier to land. I try to factor in 2x for timing of an up and back trip since there will be a series of hellos and catching-ups along the way.
It’s not so fascinating here to see a small woman haul batteries or ducting a 1/4 mile, usually people are more intrigued by how you are installing it. There aren’t enough manuals in the boat world, apparently, so the villages just have to share this data. It’s, like, a community and stuff.
There are the typical responses of ‘I need to do that’, ‘I wish I could do that’, or ‘Oh, I did that. Have fun!’ when a project is going on. I’ve yet to run into a ‘I’d never do that’ or ‘that’s idiotic’. I’m sure it’s been thought, just not said. Unless it’s Ev, the awesome Russian guy that works on the engine.
Ev will call anyone an idiot, including you, while you are standing there. Because you probably were for making a bad decision about layout, air flow, or access points. He will explain your idiocy to you while waving his oil smudged hands about. He’s the brother I never had. I love him to pieces.
The world would be a better place if there were more people that pointed out idiocy in others and backed it up with data, particularly when delivered with an accent.
I’ve learned that there is a level of admiration and appreciation you must show to any work someone is doing on their boat. It’s like when you ask after a person’s mother in Nepal or Puerto Rico, or you bow in other cultures to greet and wish goodbye. It’s just what you do.
I realized you show admiration because it’s HARD WORK, regardless of whether you even understand what it is (me, most of the time). We have never really worked on the boat before now. We moved in, cleaned it, paired down. That was it until the last few days. We were still busy and tired.
This is a real project, though. I’ve been folded into the craziest situations to clean and move wiring. I’ve gotten stuck. I’ve had a few Indiana Jones moments where I had to stick my hand into places unknown. I know there aren’t tunnels of spiders on this boat, but I thought of it every time it happened. Stupid movie. Gah.
Any yoga teacher would be honestly amazed at my skills. It made me wonder why boat yoga is not something that’s taught up at our little yacht club.
I can totally see yoga made into boat projects.
Ok class good job, now we’re going to from a fuel tank painting squat post, back into instrument panel stretch, then into a downward facing engine hatch lift. I want you to breathe into the pose as you also lift up on leg to anchor yourself as some jackhole drives too fast in the no wake zone.