General Repairs – Page 4

Two Steps Forward…

…and one big step back. *sigh*. ain’t it always?

In the ‘step forward’ department, I’ve now got all of my lights installed and wired! This is a huge step; I’ve been bragging to friends and – well ok, anyone who’ll listen, really – that I can finally brush my teeth without the use of a flashlight. Not that light is really an absolute necessity when brushing one’s teeth, but it’s nice to be able to visually gauge the amount of toothpaste used, spit accurately into the basin, etc. You know, the little things.

I think I’ve written about the lighting here before, but I’ll recap anyway. The lights are custom 12v bulbs that I found at Lee’s Electronic Components on Main Street up around 29th Avenue. The owner (Lee?) assembles the bulbs by hand; each one contains three 1w LEDs (read: bright) fresh from China, each having the interesting property of throwing by far the warmest LED light that I have seen yet. The bulbs are around $20 each, though he dropped the price a buck or so each when I ordered eight of them at once.

more LEDs - Ikea ran out of white "Beryll"s

As for fixtures to put these bulbs in – I searched long and hard for appropriate mounting fixtures, and had actually resigned myself to hacking together manufacturing my own fixtures from dollar-store components. The fixtures I wanted would need to be articulated, so as to point the light where I want it, and they’d need to be made of a material that wouldn’t corrode in the marine environment, so stainless steel, brass or plastic. Ideally, they’d also have a switch mounted on the fixture so that I could turn the lights on or off individually. After searching for the ideal fixtures for a couple of months to no avail, I finally stumbled upon the Ikea ‘Beryll’ fixture, which met all of my specs, and weren’t crazy expensive at $24 each. Better yet, the Ikea fixtures actually used a 12v wall adapter, so the bulbs they came with were already 12V and the LED bulbs fit perfectly with no modifications at all!

So, pricewise – thirteen bulbs at $19/ea, thirteen fixtures at $24/ea – simple math says I’m into these lights for a grand total of $559, plus taxes. Let’s call that an even $600 and promptly forgot that we ever did that math – honestly, if you keep too close a track on how much you spend on a sailboat you’d very likely have a nervous breakdown. I placate myself with the knowledge that I’m saving about $1000 on rent, though who knows how long that’ll last. Nothing on a boat is cheap – but having to subject everything to the harsh marine environment certainly makes you aware of how much cheaply made, disposable stuff we use in our daily lives. I’m starting to notice a growing disdain for things that aren’t built to last – my upper lip curls a bit when I see, say, a door handle made from polished but not stainless steel. Why cheap out? That’ll rust in a matter of weeks if you leave it outside. Oh, you, uh, aren’t planning to ever leave your bathroom door outside? Well, I guess that’s ok then…

As for my second step forward, both of my furnaces are now working! The furnace in the forward cabin, aka the ‘bedroom and bathroom’ cabin, has been working for about two weeks, while the furnace/stove in the aft cabin shuddered to life this past weekend just in time for Halloween. I had planned to install a low-pressure fuel pump to supply diesel to the two furnaces, but after running the furnace in the forward cabin over the span of a few chilly nights, I realized that my little twenty-gallon main diesel tank might be better left to supply just the engine, and decided to reinstall the respective gravity-feed tanks instead.

the diesel stove poses with the propane burner

The diesel furnaces are equal parts fascinating feats of engineering and twitchy, sullen, temperamental old grouches. With no moving parts, they work by heating up a “superheater” element, which vaporizes incoming diesel fuel on contact. The vaporized fuel is then drawn upwards by the flue draft into a second chamber, where it is fed fresh oxygen from an intake port and burns clean and hot – these machines were clearly designed by someone who really paid attention in physics class! The twitchy part comes mostly from the nature of the task at hand; the ambient temperature, the ambient humidity, the viscosity of the diesel fuel (which can vary greatly from supplier to supplier), the amount of carbon buildup in the burners – hell, for all I know, the phase of the moon – can all affect the superheater performance. Using this equipment is an organic experience, with several knobs, levers and dials to adjust the burn.

Things I have learned since getting my main furnace/stove running again:

the cast-iron stovetop is lovely for cooking, but very slow. I’ll still be keeping my Coleman propane burner around.
cooking eggs and/or pancakes directly on the stovetop is AWESOME.
post-halloween blueberry and Twizzler™ buckwheat pancakes are AWESOME. maybe I’ll post the recipe soon.
just because you season a stovetop grill with lard one day doesn’t mean it’s still non-stick the next day.
the stovepipe may have been cool to the touch all summer, but now it’s VERY HOT. see the toonie-sized burn on my forearm for details.

Probably my favourite thing: the stove stays gloriously warm for an hour or so after I turn off the diesel burner. Gotta love cast iron!

As for the step backwards – apparently my engine is dead again. I’m not sure what’s wrong with her this time – I noticed a little drop in power the last time I had her out to get water, but hoped that it was just a momentary glitch. This, you may realize, is absolutely not the sort of thing one can afford to do when one lives aboard a boat, especially if one is noticing some fundamental change in one’s only method of locomotion. Realistically, it’s the boating equivalent of smelling a gas leak in your kitchen and hoping that it’s just a forgotten egg rotting under the counters or something.

Actually, I have a pretty good idea of what’s wrong – the main diesel tank is made of aluminum, and the temperature has been fluctuating quite drastically for the past month or so. Temperature changes and a not-quite-full metal tank mean condensation, which in turn means it’s very likely that there’s water in the fuel lines. This isn’t too difficult to deal with, but it does mean that I’m going to have to drain the fuel-water separator and bleed the fuel lines, which on my engine is an eleven-step process requiring three different sizes of wrench. I’ve watched a mechanic do it once – several months ago after having almost the exact same engine death happen to me – and with any luck I’ll be able to duplicate his work myself. I hope so anyway, because the last mechanic visit cost me $180 or so.

Of course, there’s no reason for me to have noticed such a problem while sitting at anchor in False Creek, as I don’t often run my engine – my house battery bank isn’t hooked up to the alternator, and I have a fantastic Honda EU2000i generator to charge the house bank up to handle my day-to-day work electrical needs. So of course it took a voyage for me to notice; I had been out of water in my potable water tanks for a day or so, and I needed to travel down to the underside of the Granville Bridge to dock and refill them from the public hose.

Normally when I go for a short trip like this, or head out for a daysail or something, I leave my anchor firmly attached to the bottom of the ocean floor and tie the anchor line off to my dinghy, leaving the dinghy to mark my “spot” in False Creek and saving me the hassle of re-anchoring upon my return. Re-anchoring can be a real hassle, as you don’t really know exactly how your boat is going to swing until you’ve gone through a tide change or two, and if you’ve screwed it up you might end up bumping into other boats. Scratching up your neighbor’s paint isn’t really a great way to maintain a nice neighborly friendship.

So without hesitation, I tied off my anchor line and set off for the Granville Bridge. I hadn’t even made it a hundred meters yet when my engine began to slow down, just a little at first, but then more and more and finally she came to a shuddering stop. I raced down below to restart her, and threw the gearshift into reverse to avoid drifting into a neighbor’s sailboat. The best plan of action at this point would clearly be to turn her around and get back to the anchor, so I could figure out the problem without the stress of drifting, powerless, through the busiest bay in the region! I managed to get her turned about somewhat, but the engine was having none of it, and while she would start she’d die again as soon as I gave her any throttle.

As an aside I have decided that, like my autopilot (“Steve”), the engine is a separate entity, in cahoots with but distinct from “Tie Fighter”, the sailing vessel under which she serves. As such, the engine deserves a separate and unique name; I believe that any machinery that is given great responsibility must have a name in order to have the pride needed to take on that responsibility. I have decided to name my engine “Maude”, a fine Teutonic name meaning “mighty in battle”. “Maude” is also my mother’s middle name.

So, drifting free in False Creek with Maude disabled and cranky, I felt justifiably stresssed – though without much reason as it turned out. The sun was shining, the temperature was lovely, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the incoming afternoon tide pushed me slowly eastwards in a straight line directly back towards my dinghy! When I came within reach I leaned out and grabbed the dinghy with my boat hook, tied off Tie Fighter to the anchor line and breathed a massive sigh of relief. I didn’t have to call the Coast Guard for a rescue!*

(*: well, technically, last time this happened I didn’t have to call them either – I broke down directly in front of their outpost, and they came out of their own accord…)

a rainbow at sunset - one example of why I'm still out here

Anyhow. I have now enrolled in a five-week marine diesel engine maintenance class with Cooper Boating on Granville Island, beginning next Monday evening. Maude is one of the last big ‘mystery’ systems on Tie Fighter, and if I’m planning to do any long-term cruising (more on that soon), I need to become both her master and her servant – or at least her family doctor. Maybe just her trusted friend. Regardless, we need to able to count on one another to perform adequately when needed, and the first step towards that is for me to learn a lot more about what to do to keep her happy.

Overall? The nights are getting colder, but the natural scenery is still stunning. My windows have proven to be mostly weatherproof, and the odd day of sun here and there has allowed me to patch up the remaining leaks as I find them. My list of needed boat “repairs” grows steadily shorter, though the list of needed/wanted “upgrades” stays pretty much the same length no matter how many I knock off. The diesel heat is warm, if a bit smelly, my pantry is full and my bed is dry. My internet works, I’m (mostly) keeping up on my bills, and for some reason I’ve been a lot more musically productive over the past few days.

I believe I will survive this winter.

Windows

Once again I’ve been caught in the trap of putting too much effort into a long blog post, only to run out of steam and set the post on the shelf for later completion. Three times now I’ve updated the first paragraph of that post, from “in the past day, I…”, to “in the past few days, I…”, to “last week, I…”. I will return to that post, but I can’t keep letting it prevent me from other writings.

Much boat progress has been made! I’ve finally replaced all of my windows, a non-trivial task to say the least. To do so I had to remove my former windows for a full day – not all of them, but a few anyway. There are three different types of window on my boat, but seven windows overall; four of one type, two of another, and the final window is the front “windshield” window, which for some reason looks directly in to the bathroom. I would remove three, to be used as pattern blanks by the plexiglass window cutting guys.

The downside of removing the windows was of course that it is now Fall in Vancouver and the temperature has been dropping pretty sharply. I have been able to see my breath lying in bed at night, and that’s with the windows installed. Without the windows, I would essentially be spending my workday camping without the smores, and since I’ve been more or less camping all Summer, the novelty of the idea was somewhat lost on me. A call to the window fabricating guys told me that they had the time and the materials, and so Thursday morning I pulled out the three windows and dutifully strapped them to my backpack.

After I rode my bike over to the fabricators’ shop near Hastings and Commercial, they told me that they’d have them finished in one business day, ie Friday, so I would have to spend the night essentially sleeping outdoors. This worried me somewhat, but whatever, I’m an able-bodied man in reasonably good health. Despite my broken furnaces I do have a little Coleman propane heater I could use, so while I was a bit choked I figured I could handle it, flu season be damned. The guy told me he’d call back with a quote in an hour or so, but by 4:30pm he hadn’t called and I was starting to get a little bit worried. I called him back and asked for the quote, which he called me back with, but during that call he also mentioned that there would be a good chance they wouldn’t have them done by Friday evening.

Now, let’s reiterate; I’m essentially sleeping outdoors. It is Fall. More to the point, it is Canadian Thanksgiving, which not only means turkey and pumpkin pie, but also that this would be a long weekend. The man was telling me that I would not have windows until Tuesday?!

In the interests of brevity, I’ll spare you the details. A little wheedling, a little explaining of the situation, and the guy managed to make the windows appear by 5pm Friday. On my way back home I realized that three 1/8″ plexiglass windows weigh approximately 1/5th of seven 1/4″ Lexan windows, and that perhaps I shouldn’t be riding my bicycle with 80lbs of sheet plastic strapped to my back.

One thing I learned while installing the new windows: I am terrible at installing windows. Sikaflex 295 is horrible, horrible stuff.

Another think I learned: duct tape residue may be awful stuff to deal with, but the residue from the new clear duct tape – which, I might add, specifically says on the label “No Residue – Easy Clean Up” – is twice as difficult to remove. I had my previous windows held in and patched against the rain with clear duct tape, and will not use that stuff again for that purpose.

Anyhow. The priorities for the boat have shifted rather dramatically from “make her pretty” to “make her survive the winter”, followed by “make her comfortable”. The windows are in, though the caulking handiwork looks a bit like that of a seven-year-old with Play-Doh. The new Lexan windows, unlike the old, opaque Plexiglass ones, are completely translucent – so now I also need to consider some form of curtains if I want anything approaching privacy.

It never really stops, does it?

Long Overdue Update!

Wow. Three of the craziest, busiest, happiest months of my life. How to compress them into one post? WHY compress them into one post? This seems silly, but I think the best way to re-jumpstart my blogging is to get this all out of the way in one post, and then go back to more regular updates. *sigh*.

At my last major post, I was about to speak at the Open Web Vancouver conference at the Vancouver Conference Center. My talk went pretty well, I guess – I mean, I definitely didn’t win any awards, but nobody walked out either. I met some great new folks and had a good experience overall. I know now that speaking at tech conferences is almost exactly like doing live-pa techno in front of a big audience – the more prepared you are, the easier it is to let go and just be yourself.

Since then, there’s been… God. Seriously, where to start?!

I’ve had repeated, profound musical experiences on the boat, jamming with friends. Picture if you will a mirror-smooth False Creek, with the boat anchored about fifty feet offshore. Dan Ross playing guitar and singing, Chad Taylor playing muted trumpet and providing some percussive backup and myself on mandolin and backup vocals – folks walking past, double-taking and sitting down on the seawall to listen, applauding between songs. Making music on the boat with friends has given me far more joy than I ever imagined it could. Actually, making music on the boat at all – I’ve been spending on average about eight to ten hours per week sitting on my deck, playing my guitar and singing. If there is a greater peace than playing music on the water, I haven’t found it yet.

I’ve gone on three epic sailing adventures, the third of which is still ongoing – as of this writing I am anchored in this lovely little bay, surrounded by million-dollar waterfront houses and a beautiful cliff infested with rock climbers. More on that in future posts – but suffice to say this ongoing solo-sailing adventure is not without its trials and tribulations.

The first of the three epic sailing adventures was with a beautiful woman named Miya who I met at Burning Man in 2008, and who had come to visit me several times over the past year. Her confidence in my sailing ability was appreciated, though perhaps unwarranted, as we left Vancouver and immediately ran into eight-foot breaking swells just off Point Atkinson, enroute to the Sunshine Coast. The sailing got a lot better after the first day, but we still had to spend a few days on Bowen Island with engine trouble – mostly waiting around for a mechanic, until we tackled the problem head-on with the manual and some elbow grease, finally solving it ourselves and getting the engine back up and running. We then cruised up the coast to Secret Cove and Smuggler Cove, where we spent a night before returning to Vancouver. It was an amazing trip; the ocean opened my eyes and put a good fear into me, and the company was exquisite. The parting of ways at the end was wistful to say the least.

Drew and Laurel spinning fire on Tie Fighter — Drew and Laurel spinning fire on the boat at Diversity

The second sailing adventure was with yet another beautiful woman, Carrie, who joined me on a trip to the Diversity Festival on Texada Island. Technically we were supposed to sail with a crew of six, but Vancouver being the city of flailers that it is, the crew slowly called in to cancel until it was just the two of us. The winds were against us the whole way there and back, forcing us to motor around 90% of the tip, so it’s debatable whether or not we actually saved any money travelling by “sailboat”. We did get the sails up once or twice, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. The festival itself was excellent, with us arriving in full pirate regalia to great fanfare, spending a weekend surrounded by beautiful people and great music, and rolling out again on Monday with a grand exit. Sunday was a bit crazy, as the wind suddenly went from 5kn up to 25-30kn, and Tie Fighter danced in four-foot swells for the night – I now have a lot more faith in my anchor than before. Another boat nearby actually did slip their anchor, and came within a few feet of hitting us, but we held steady and Monday was much calmer. Another thing learned: rowing a dinghy in calm waters is one thing, rowing through four-foot waves as they break on the beach is another thing entirely! I made very good use of the drybags my sister gave me for my birthday.

The next weekend after Diversity was the Emrg-N-See Festival just outside of Salem, Oregon. I went to this festival with Trent last year, and it was probably the best festival I’d been to to date – it was as though someone had sent a personal invitation to every single gorgeous, blonde, dreadlocked, dubstep-loving yoga instructor on the west coast. I cannot express how many times I had to stop and shake my head at the sheer beauty surrounding me. This year was similar, though somewhat diluted, as though every guy who went last year went home and explained the situation to every guy he knew. I know I did, which is why I was surprised that the crew going down fron Vancouver was much smaller this year. Regardless, I definitely got my fill of amazing dubstep and bassline music, on very excellent soundsystems. I also got to take a tablespoon of dancefloor dirt out of my nose every morning, which I am choosing to look at as preparation for this year’s Burning Man expedition.

The weekend after Emrg-N-See was Sequential Circus 5, an electronic music event that I guess I’m sort of in charge of. I say that with some reservation, because the show couldn’t happen without every one of the seriously talented and driven people involved – we’ve got the whole thing pretty much down to a science now, and even with six live acts on a small stage, we continue to be efficient and competent, and we still have a good time doing it. This SeqCirc was probably the best music to date, though we were up against some very stiff competition. The capacity of the venue is about 180 people, and we had about 100 people, so while it was never packed, it never felt empty, and nearly everyone who was there at midnight was still there at 3am when we turned the lights on, so I count that as a win. The next Sequential Circus, SeqCircSix, will be in January.

After recovering from SeqCirc, having a few sailing missions out and around English Bay, and basically settling down and focusing on dayjob work for a while, I took off on my first big solo-sailing trip, headed for Victoria…

Monday, Again

Ok, five days since the last post. Wheeeeere to start.

I survived the rains of last week without incident. Actually, the rains are a really good thing, as they help by pointing out any spots where the cabin still leaks. I *think* I’ve got them all now, and it’s almost time to start painting! I have to admit, the boat is looking better and better and better – I mean it goddamned well better be, given the amount of hours and money I’ve been pouring into her. Still, I needed a good project and every hour that I work on her she becomes more “mine”.

I spent the whole weekend working on her, again – third weekend in a row of two solid eight-to-fourteen-hour days fixing, upgrading, grinding, fiberglassing, sanding, sanding and sanding. I’m starting to run out of things to fix which is a really, really good sign.

Thursday was a bit odd though – I basically wore out my Mastercraft random-orbit sander. The bearings just “went”… I went back to Canadian Tire to see what they could do about it, and they said not much without a receipt or at least a transaction number. Of course, I can’t remember when I actually bought the sander, I think it was around two months ago. Two lessons learned: keep your receipts, and don’t buy the cheapest power tool just because it’s on sale. A hundred dollars later, I have a new DeWalt sander.

When I returned from the store with the new sander, I arrived at my rowboat and looked out to see a large, shiny, expensive fishing boat tied to mine! Obviously I jumped right in my boat and rowed out as fast as I could to find out what was going on. Apparently the guy lost one of his two transmissions, and wasn’t able to get his boat out of ‘forward’ to steer back into his marina properly, so he quickly dropped anchor and called his mechanic – but apparently where he dropped anchor wasn’t the best place, so he drifted right over into my boat. He put out his fenders so there wasn’t any damage, but he was still bumped right up against me. He explained the situation

“So,” he said, “I thought I’d just tie off to you for a while until my mechanic got here…”

Which he had – his docklines were now tied to my boat, and my docklines had been untied and lay on my deck. Now, I’m a pretty friendly and gracious guy, so I didn’t lay into him – still, I’m pretty sure that boarding someone else’s vessel without permission is considered a hostile act under maritime law, so at the very least it was very poor manners. I glowered at him some and hurried him along until he realized that he was utterly unwelcome to stay tied to my boat for any longer than absolutely necessary. He made some noises early on about leaving his boat there overnight, but I think my derisive snort got my point across.

To top it off, my anchoring permit, with my cellphone number written on it in sharpie with a message saying “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, PLEASE CALL:” wasright there, posted in the nearest window. If running into someone’s boat and having to tie off to it isn’t an emergency, I’m not sure what is.

Anyhow. Within an hour his mechanic got there, and they got the boat untied and moved along – I’m not sure if he was fixed or if the mechanic was just a better pilot, but whatever. Barely a thank you, and no hint of an apology. I don’t know whether he was just a newbie boater, or didn’t consider live-aboard squatters to have the same rights as people from an expensive marina, or if he was just utterly oblivious. Still, I have half a mind to borrow an RV from someone and go park on his lawn for a couple of hours with ‘engine trouble’.

The weekend was mostly calm, with twenty-odd hours of hard work in the sun putting a new layer on my tan. I got a tonne of work done on the deck, spent way too much money at the marine store again, and finally installed my LED lighting system. I had gone to Ikea mid-week last week to find the fixtures, and managed to find the perfect fixtures – these ones to be precise, in white plastic. They have a fixture-mounted switch, they accept the LED bulbs perfectly, they have a long cable, and they’re mostly plastic so they’re ideal for the marine environment. I am incredibly pleased with these lights! I had purchased five, with the intention of putting two in the salon, one over the navigation table, one in the bathroom and one over my bed – but instead I installed all five in the salon and will have to purchase more. WOW though – I do not at all regret the purchase, nor the decision. In one step, the salon at night has changed from “camping” to “home”. The light is warm and pleasant, and the difference in the general “feel” of the place is staggering. I will be purchasing another five of these lights, at least. The best part is that even with ten lights installed, I will still only be drawing a total of 30w of electricity to light the entire boat – just about half the draw of a *single* regular lightbulb!

Today, it’s back to the grind. We’ve committed to having one of the gossip sites live and launched in the Amazon cloud by Wednesday. Just in time, the weather has turned sour, and later today and tonight it promises to rain. I’ve still got a few holes in the front of the boat, so I’ll need to cover those with garbage bags or something for Tuesday, but then Wednesday and on through the weekend is supposed to be bright and sunny, so I should be able to get that job finished this coming weekend.

Just in time, too – coming up, I have a speaking gig on cloud computing at the Open Web Vancouver conference, an open offer of a live-pa set in Victoria, a possible second live-pa set at a music festival out on Texada Island (plus I can sail there!), and a third offer of an acoustic live set over on Vancouver Island. Furthermore I have a lovely young lady coming up from Michigan for a ten-day epic sailing adventure in June, a hacker conference in Washington the weekend after that, and I am putting together a live electronic music show on the only weekend in July without a three-day outdoor festival to go to. It never stops!

I have to pick and choose between the musical bookings, because I frankly don’t know how much free time I’ll have to practice up between then and now – but it’s all very flattering nonetheless. 🙂 Public appearances come with a thrill of adventure, but also with a dark sense of foreboding which drives me to work much harder on my music and performance so that I don’t suck. It’s one thing to play badly in your living room, it’s another thing entirely to play badly in front of hundreds of people!

Fake Monday

Today is Tuesday, but it’s technically the start of the week since yesterday was Victoria Day, a statutory holiday here in Canada.

The holiday long weekend was gorgeous. I technically took Friday off of work also, so it was a four-day weekend full of sunny boat repair work. I got so much done! Where to begin…

Thursday night I went out to the Anza Club to catch a show – Tarran the Tailor was playing upstairs. Excellent time, great music as usual – afterwards I biked back to my rowboat, but as I approached I noticed a couple of bicycles abandoned at the top of the dock ramp. As I arrived, I found three 20-something folks sitting in my boat, drinking bourbon – they mistook me for a fellow Midnight Mass rider and invited me to join them. As I explained that I was actually there to kick them out of my boat and go home, they were shocked and extremely apologetic, but really, it’s not like they were hurting anything. The boat is always locked up with a padlock, and there’s nothing left in it to steal. I mean, if they’d thrown my oars in the water or tried to damage the boat in some way, it would have gone much more sourly – but as it was, they were nice enough folks, geeks even. We exchanged names and URLs, so Adam, Andrew and Rebecca, if you’re reading this, feel free to drop me a line. 🙂

Friday and Saturday I got up at 8am and worked hard on the boat – I finished a bunch of epoxy work, got hinges onto all the storage hatches finally, and made progress in getting the hinges and hasps onto the cabin hatches – that project still needs more work, of course, but the end is finally in sight. I spent a bunch of time in the engine compartment working to get the kill switch in place, and finally succeeded – but when I went to test it, it didn’t work, and in fact I’ve apparently damaged the cable to the point that I need to go and find a new one. Boo – at least now, after two visits to the marine store and one visit to Canadian Tire, I know that the cable is called a ‘utility cable’ and that I should be able to get a new one from LloydCo Auto Parts.

I also removed the traveler on Friday – ie the seven-foot-long pulleys-on-rails thing that the boom attaches to – so that I could fix a few leaks in the bedding hardware. The leaks were directly over the stove, which meant that every time it rained I’d have to use steel wool on the cast iron stove grill again to get rid of the big patch of resulting rust. The leak had, over time, caused some of the roof to rot; this led to the first cutting of a large hole in the boat roof, and the bulk of the 1/4″ of sawdust that covers everything in the galley at the moment. The hole is patched, the surface is fiberglassed, sanded, faired perfectly with epoxy and fairing compound, and the traveler is now ready to be rebedded – perhaps this afternoon, if the weather clears up for a while.

Sunday I had a few guests over helping me work on the boat – it seems unfortunately that adding more people to a project doesn’t necessarily make the project go any quicker. Still, it was nice to have the company, and a few projects got nailed down properly – though when I removed the trampolines to fix a few small cosmetic problems on the center bow of the boat, we discovered a few patches of rot that quickly grew into a huge seven-foot hole in the boat. The rot wasn’t structural, which was a relief, but all that wood still needed to be replaced. I got a bunch of the wood in, but then Sunday was mostly rainy, so I had to cover the work site with tarps and pray for the best, spending the day curled up, drinking rum and watching movies with a friend. Sunday night was more rain and a lot more wind, which picked up the tarps and blew a cold wind through the boat, though as far as I can tell not much rain got in. It’s supposed to be rainy today and tomorrow, but then it’s supposed to be calm and sunny for another five or so days in a row, so this coming weekend I should be able to completely nail down the problems in the bow, and be done with it for the foreseeable future.

Today, however, I’m back to the day job. I’m working to figure out why the bottleneck in our EC2 migration appears to be network traffic – the frontend webservers seem to handle my load testing without a hiccup, but the database server spikes to a load of over 50, even though it’s an “extra large” EC2 instance. It doesn’t appear to be file I/O wait, nor a lack of CPU time, so I’m stuck. I’m not sure what I can do about that – I’ve always been under the assumption that network bandwidth between EC2 instances would be incredible, seeing as they’re virtual instances on more or less the same physical hardware. This week I have to solve the problem, but I’m not sure how just yet.

There’s still a few holes in the boat. I still don’t have clean water, though that’s just a matter of time – a reasonable amount of time actually, because filling the tanks takes a good fifteen minutes, then the bleach should be left in for an hour or so, then fifteen minutes to empty the tanks, then fifteen minutes to refill, fifteen minutes to empty, fifteen minutes to refill, fifteen minutes to empty, and finally a final refill. The traveler is still sitting a few feet away from where it should be mounted, and I still have more research to do on epoxy compounds before I can put the hatch doors properly back on the boat. The work is tiring, but very fulfilling, and a few long days of working in the sun have topped up my stores of vitamin D and left me with a positive outlook and a fantastic tan.