Repairing a shore power cable is a straightforward project that can be tackled comfortably while seated—either indoors or aboard your boat. Shore power is a marina luxury that keeps your batteries charged and powers AC (alternating current) appliances when a “ring main” is installed in the cabins or galley, not to mention another desirable AC acronym, Air Conditioning, if your boat has it fitted. Most marinas provide power pedestals at each dock, typically offering 30-amp, 120-volt outlets. Some also have 50-amp connections for boats with higher power demands, as well as 15-amp outlets intended for light use, such as running a single tool. However, these smaller outlets are usually marked “not for shore power” and shouldn’t be used to handle a boat’s heavier electrical load.

The heavy cables that are needed to connect a boat to shore power can be bought on the web or at chandlers.

The most common type in the US is made by Marinco Inc., but there are also others with the same terminal connectors. All have a male and female plug at each end of cables that are available in various lengths. It’s also possible to buy the wires and the plugs separately to make custom lengths to suit a boat that is always moored in the same dock space. It’s better to use a length that is not overly long, to reduce resistance and overheating of the cable that is exposed to the elements day-in and day-out.

The actual plugs on the ends of these cables are a special configuration that consists of power (black), return (white) and ground (green), and they only plug into a receptacle one way.

They may also have a black locking ring that enables them to be securely attached to a pedestal or a boat that has corresponding threads.

Some pedestal receptacles are angled downward to reduce the incursion of rainwater that could short out the plugs.

If there is no locking ring facility, this type of angled connection is very susceptible to working loose due to the movement of the boat or even the wind. The only remedy is to tie the plug to the pedestal. If there is no locking ring facility on the pedestal it is still useful as a ¼-inch rope fits nicely between the ring and the boot that can then be tied to the pedestal.

If, through a bad connection, the plug overheats inside the receptacle, it usually trips the contact breaker, but if it continues to short out, it can start a fire inside the pedestal. Over time the plugs also become corroded due to the environment they operate in, making it necessary to replace the entire plug or the outer plug connector part of it.

Note: If either plug of a manufacturer’s shore-power cable still has the original plugs attached, they cannot be dismantled because they are one-piece molded assemblies.

The only way to fit a new plug to these cables is to saw the old one off, then fit a completely new male or female plug in the manner described here. This is not at all difficult and much cheaper than buying a new shore power cable set.

The male and female plugs at each end of the wire use different boots and the spare parts are not interchangeable.

A single 1/4” inch thin flat blade screwdriver is all that is required to do these repairs because the Phillips screws all have one open slot across the head of the screws.

Dismantling A Female Plug

To replace or rebuild a failed female plug, first pull the boot away from the plug and slide it a few inches down the wire—because it need not be removed from the wire unless a new boot is to be fitted. Next, remove the three screws in the end of the plug, and loosen the two on the side of the body—but do not completely remove these two, as they only clamp the cable in place. The white plug part can now be pulled out of the body exposing the wires inside.

Move the body back down the wire a few inches. (If this is difficult, the two side screws may not have been loosened enough.) It should now be possible to see what has caused the failure of the connection and there may even be signs of burning on a wire.

To remove the wires, simply loosen the three side screws and the plug can be pulled clear of the wires. The screws are colored red, green and white to match the wires.

Dismantling A Male Plug

Unscrew the three screws in the front of the male plug, and the boot can then be drawn back down the wire. On the male plug, there is no inner body and the plug screws directly into the boot.

This exposes the three wires attached to the plug that can now be unscrewed from the plug and repairs made in the same way as the female end.

Reassembling Both Plugs

Depending upon what is discovered when the plugs are dismantled, Marinco parts may need to be ordered. If the wire shows any signs of burning or brittleness, the cable should be cut back until the wires are clean. This is usually only about two or three inches and is best done with a hacksaw in a vice.

If a new boot is to be fitted, it will be necessary to trim one of the rings off at the end of the boot to be able to slide it onto the 5/8-inch diameter cable. Now, using a box cutter (Stanley knife), a scalpel (X-acto knife), or a similar knife with a new sharp blade, carefully trim the outer cover back 1 5/8-inch and remove it along with its inner strings until only three new wires are left. One method of doing this is to place the cable in the vice and slice into the top half of the outer cover, which is normally quite thin and flexible, but not so deep as to nick the wire insulation. Then, score a straight cut from the circular cut back to the end of the cover, peel it open, and it will then be easier to score around the rest of the cover. Now trim 5/8-inch of the wire insulation to expose the copper conductors and twist them to stop them from fraying.

Now push each wire end into its corresponding colored hole in the plug until the insulation fits inside the little raised hole, then tighten the locking screw. It is important to do this correctly: green wire goes into the green hole, white into white and black into black. If done incorrectly the polarity of the plug will be wrong. On the female plug, push the plug end into the body that locates with a small square keyway, and tighten the screws to fasten the plug to the body. Then, tighten the two clamp screws to secure the plug to the cable and pull the boot back over the complete plug.

This completes the installation of both male and female plugs—with a DIY cost saving of approximately 200 percent over the cost of a new shore-power cable set.

The post DIY Shore Power Cable Repair: Keep Your Boat “Plugged In” appeared first on Cruising World.

In 2020, our friends purchased a 1980 43-foot Hans Christian, Remedy, that had a compromised bowsprit. My husband, Chris, had reinforced it for the previous owner, but it was time to replace it entirely because it was suffering from severe termite damage and was the weakest link of the rig. Chris was asked to tackle the replacement job too, based on his reputation here in Southern California for delivering excellent results, even if it means putting projects aboard our own Cheoy Lee 41, Avocet, on the back burner. 

Hans Christians are pretty easy yachts to spot; many of the designs have a substantial bowsprit, carrying the lines of the large bulwarks that make for a stout bluewater cruiser. The rigs differ from ketch, sloop and cutters, but they all get as much sail area as possible, utilizing the bowsprit. For example, the 33-foot Hans Christian has a relatively small footprint on deck but sports the rig and sail area of what you might see on a 40-foot yacht, to compensate for the heavy displacement.

Forty-one-year-old Remedy had never had the bowsprit removed and inspected—hence the termites, along with wood rot at the base, where water pooled easily. 

There also was the issue of the samson posts (the physical stopping point for the aft end of the bowsprit) having separated from their lateral support underneath the deck. And we noted a classic case of stainless-steel crevice ­corrosion that had claimed all of the bowsprit hardware, which had hairline cracks, pitting and bent tangs. 

A total rebuild was necessary, and there was a lot to consider about the way to go about it, given how much materials and technology have improved since Remedy splashed decades ago. We could stick with wood and re-create what was there, or make something like a fiberglass bowsprit. Using the old bowsprit as a mold, we could build something that was impervious to rot, and that was stronger and lighter than its wood counterpart. Or we could build one out of aluminum. It wouldn’t sport the exact same design, but it could be better in many ways. 

Our friends decided to stick with traditional wood, which led to new considerations. Since materials like old-growth wood are simply not available these days, we couldn’t carve a new bowsprit out of a single piece of timber like the original. Instead, we would have to utilize techniques such as laminating. Having just finished our bulwark aboard Avocet, we knew that we liked cumaru wood (sometimes called Brazilian teak) for its strength, but finding a piece that was a minimum of 8½ feet wide by 14 feet long, and kiln-dried, turned out to be more difficult than we anticipated. 

Remedy’s owners found a lead on sapele, a type of mahogany with higher tensile strength than teak and better gluing adhesion. It lacks the oils that teak has for fighting off rot and bugs, but given the general lack of wood on the West Coast, we decided that sapele was our best option. 

With the wood ordered, Chris set out to translate measurements from the old bowsprit to paper so that he could dimensionally see how Hans Christian had done it, and where he could improve the design. 

Hans Christian had made the original bowsprit quickly and efficiently, leaving details such as perfectly straight lines, 90-degree cuts and appropriate spacing as an afterthought. Chris added notes where material needed to be added and taken away to create an upgraded version. He then laid out his tools and got busy turning the 5-by-5-foot boards into a bowsprit. 

This was a messy project. Not only were we dealing with a large amount of dripping resin, but there was also a fair bit of dust and shavings that wouldn’t be appropriate to manage dockside. Fortunately, our friends at Ventura Harbor Boatyard allowed us to set up shop there. Chris created a workspace encapsulated with a tarp to control the dust and temperature. Inside, we used box fans for air circulation.

 From the initial concept, we knew that the hardest part of building the new bowsprit was going to be cutting an 8½-by-8½-foot cube with a taper. So, instead of trying to cut an entire solid piece of timber, Chris instead cut 10 planks into the shape of the bowsprit, with the intention of gluing them together. When he cut the boards, he purposely left about a ¼-inch of extra material on all sides to act as a buffer while gluing everything together, and to allow for enough material to be planed away during the shaping process. 

Once the boards were cut into their desired shape, it was time to glue them together. 

This process of laminating wood with many layers introduces an incredible amount of tensile strength, if you can keep the layers well-bonded for the life of the beam. There have been horror stories about laminated beams on ships coming apart, but if the job is done properly, the result will be stronger than it could be with a single piece of timber. 

After speaking with a few experts about lamination materials, Chris used Smith’s Oak and Teak Epoxy Glue, which turned out to be by far the stickiest, strongest and goopiest epoxy we have ever seen. Chris did a quick run with the orbital sander to raise the grain of the wood, and then a wipe-down with acetone, before he and one of the boat’s owners began applying the glue with a 4-inch filler spreader. 

This was among the most stressful parts of the entire project—and not just because we needed it to work. At that time, there was a nationwide epoxy shortage, so we were trying to conserve epoxy at the same time that we were liberally applying it. And we were racing to make sure all the boards were clamped before the epoxy “kicked off” (entered the initial cure phase). 

When the last clamp was placed, the old bowsprit was placed on top of the laminated boards for more downward pressure. With the epoxy curing, we draped a tarp over the whole ensemble and plugged in three space heaters to increase the ambient temperature to 95 or 100 degrees Fahrenheit, to assist in the curing process. To be safe, we checked on the heaters continually, and we removed them from our workspace the following day.

Two days later, we removed the clamps to get a good look at what was now one cohesive piece of wood. We were pleased with the results (whew!). It was now time to shape the laminated wood into a proper bowsprit. 

The first tool Chris grabbed was his trusty grinder with a 5-inch sanding-pad attachment, to get rid of all the epoxy that had squeezed out between the boards. This step left a flat surface that was suitable for a hand planer. 

Chris struck a centerline and started marking the sides of the bowsprit where the final dimensions would be. The least amount of material he had to remove was about a ¼-inch, and the most was about 4 inches around where the bottom edge of the bowsprit tapered from the middle section up to the very front. This exercise confirmed that his initial cuts in the individual planks were correct, leaving enough material to shape. 

After lamination, the bowsprit weighed more than 300 pounds—yikes, indeed—but that figure decreased with every inch of material that Chris shaved away. The final weight was around 270 pounds. This is why a lighter material such as fiberglass, carbon or aluminum would be great to consider.

Once the bowsprit was between ⅛ and ¼ inch of the original spec, we relocated our project to the dock, where the final shaping would make a minimal mess. 

To say that we were ­nervous at this point was an ­understatement. Chris worried that the monster he had crafted might not gracefully replace the previous bowsprit, and his worrying made me anxious. There was only one way to put our nerves to bed, and that was to lift the bowsprit and see if it fit. 

At first, it didn’t—but that was OK. We had anticipated an improper fit, which is why Chris had left enough material to continue taking it away, finely tuning the bowsprit’s shape to the boat itself. Using his wood planer and contractor square, he shaved another ¼ inch off the sides. He repeated the process about three times, with the fourth time being the golden ticket. The bowsprit slid with no resistance into place, with a very rewarding thunk into the samson post notches. 

The bowsprit was at that point dry-fitted to Remedy,but the work was far from over. Chris had intentionally left the mating surface (where the samson posts and bowsprit made contact) proud so that he could strike a final line on the bowsprit once it was in place. This step in the process ensured that the bowsprit would be fully supported by the samson post while ­avoiding point-loading.

After this step was ­complete, it was time to install the hardware, which you might think would have been easier than everything else we had done so far. Nope. 

By far, the most intimidating part of this project was drilling for the fasteners. Chris had thought about using a mobile drill press, but the holes he had to re-create in the bowsprit needed to accommodate the original hardware (like the pulpit), and those holes were not all uniform in where they went in and came out of the sprit. 

For example: The two ½-inch bolts that go through the staysail chainplate went into the wood at about a 60-degree angle. So we took the process old-school and laid the hardware down on the bowsprit exactly where we wanted it. We then marked both sides of the hole, and used a handheld ½-inch drill to cut the holes in both sides until they connected in the middle. This technique ended up working pretty well—but there was a level of guesswork involved that, while it did not affect the quality of the finished product, just felt wrong to us after so much attention to detail in the project thus far. 

Once all the holes had been drilled, Chris oversized them slightly and inlaid G10 (prefabricated epoxy-based fiberglass laminate) tubes for the bolts to go inside. Adding this upgrade to the original design meant the hardware didn’t need to be bedded because the G10 was epoxied in place. This upgrade to the design also meant the bolts couldn’t oval the wood over time, a problem that would lead to water ingress and put our friends right back where they had started. 

After the tubes had been installed and bedded with thickened epoxy, the entire bowsprit was saturated in Smith’s Clear Penetrating Epoxy Sealer, and then finished with nine coats of Awlgrip’s Awlwood Clear Gloss. If we do say so ourselves, it looked quite lovely.

In the end—with all new hardware, a beautifully varnished bowsprit, and a bluewater cruising boat that was ready for adventure—our friends set a course south for Mexico in October 2021. 

When we last checked, Remedy had covered more than 1,000 nautical miles, with the bowsprit we created proudly leading the way.

Marissa and Chris Neely are currently refitting their Cheoy Lee 41, Avocet, prepping to cast off their lines and go cruising.

The post A Bowsprit Reborn: A DIY Renovation Story appeared first on Cruising World.

Updating the standing rigging on our Stevens 47, Totem, wasn’t an intentional part of the 40-year refit that we recently completed. We had re-rigged in 2019, anticipating our departure to the South Pacific in spring 2020. The pandemic scratched that, and we embarked on a significant refit in 2021 that instead left this rig on saw horses for a year and a half.

Putting the rig back up was among the last tasks during our extended stay at Cabrales Boatyard in Puerto Peñasco, Mexico. As we neared mast-stepping day in November 2023, my husband, Jamie, busted out his rigging kit. That’s how we refer to the 10X loupe that serves as the key for scrutinizing components at a level that human eyes just can’t do without magnification. 

Some halyards showed age and wear, but we already knew this and had a replacement Dyneema/polyester double braid replacement line on hand. The one surprise? Totem’s backstay.

Our Backstay’s Weak Link

New in 2019, the wire still looked fine, as did the swages. But two Sta-Lok insulators on the backstay—an assembly that enables that aft wire to be used as an antenna for single sideband radio—didn’t. Surface crazing on the black nylon portion of the insulators, which were added in 2008, suggested ultraviolet degradation.

During our 2019 rerig, we chose to reuse the backstay insulators. The fittings inspected well. Some people consider mechanical rigging terminals such as Sta-Lok, Hayn Hi-MOD and Norseman to be indefinitely reusable. They’re not. Jamie considers their lifespan at two rigging cycles (or about 20 years) maximum. Our old insulators met safe criteria, so we saved money by keeping them.

Still, we knew to look out for trouble. In the past few years, friends on two different cruising boats had rig failures due to broken insulators. Both crews practice good seamanship and don’t skimp on safety. Melissa White has written about losing the backstay on Galapagos (in her blog, Little Cunning Plan, and also in 48°N magazine), three weeks into a passage from Hawaii to the Pacific Northwest. With only 500 nautical miles to Cape Flattery, Washington, their insulator snapped in half in the rolling swells of the North Pacific Ocean. They were in conditions that allowed them to stabilize the rig, and they altered course to a closer point of landfall.

The crew of Miles wasn’t so lucky: When their insulator failed, their rig came down. Never mind the fact that they’d had a rigging inspection only months before, and no faults had been found.

When they dismasted, they were in degrading conditions approximately 100 miles east of Eleuthera, Bahamas. In an admirable effort, they secured the wreckage and bashed overnight to the nearest safe harbor in San Salvador.

So, Jamie took another look at our setup last November, and he condemned Totem’s insulator. The conclusion was easy, but the decision about next steps was not.

We were days from putting Totem back in the water, looking for a weather window to sail south. Five family members were flying to meet us in a bay 800 nautical miles south of the boatyard. Any delay in stepping would make us late for the family Christmas. Could we get to Puerto Vallarta with the existing backstay, or could the rig be compromised on our trip south?

And, in the time between putting insulators on the new rig in 2019 and wrapping an extensive refit in 2023, we had changed our stance on single sideband use. Once our only offshore communication, the hardware no longer earned a place on Totem because multiple satellite options are available today. Since we weren’t installing the SSB, we didn’t need new insulators. This opened options to consider in replacing the backstay.

One of those options was Dyneema, which is a strong, lightweight line made from synthetic ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene fibers. Dynex Dux is Dyneema that’s put through another cycle of heating and stretching to get every fiber in every yarn bundle to be exactly the same length. It’s lightweight, super strong and has virtually no stretch, making it a great alternative to wire for rigging.

We knew this because in 2008, Jamie had installed a Dynex Dux solent stay and inner forestay on Totem. He had also installed a Dux backstay on a friend’s boat in Puerto Rico in 2017, and loved the results.

With Totem now our focus, we reached out to Colligo Marine, the US distributor for Dynex Dux, rebranded as Colligo Dux. Colligo’s founder, co-owner and lead engineer, John Franta, helped us. Picking up the backstay became a perfect excuse for us to drive to Southern California for Thanksgiving with cousins. (Shipping into Mexico is fraught with issues.) Barely a week later, we were on our way back to Mexico with the new backstay in hand.

Shifting forward a few weeks, Totem was in Banderas Bay in time for family Christmas, after a conservative sail south with the old backstay in place. The new one was installed in the slip at Marina Riviera Nayarit. The hardest part of replacing the backstay with the mast up? Detaching and lowering the old backstay, because it was so heavy. The new stay was in place minutes later.

Wire vs. Synthetic Rigging

If Dux is so great, why didn’t we replace all of our standing rigging with it back in 2019?

Well, we did think about it. At the time, Jamie chose wire because of the cost of additional hardware necessary in the shift to synthetic rigging. We simply didn’t have the resources to consider the upgrade.

There are other considerations for a switch to synthetic rigging, too. They include abrasion, chafe, ultraviolet longevity and thermal expansion. Stainless steel wire has just as many issues and is harder to inspect well. Our new backstay was an easy choice this time around because of the weight savings, ease of installation and absence of chafe points.

We’re now getting ready to sail around 2,000 nautical miles from Hawaii to Micronesia. We aren’t sure yet if we’ll make landfall in Tarawa, Kiribati, or sail the slightly shorter distance to Majuro, Marshall Islands. Ideally, we can visit Tarawa first (it’s harder to get there later), but the weather will make the decision for us.

Meanwhile: Totem Talks will be on again before we sail west. For this next free livestream, we’ll have a circumnavigation roundtable with our friend and neighbor here in Hawaii, Dustin Reynolds. He didn’t just circumnavigate: Dustin holds a Guinness World Record for the first solo voyage around the world by a double amputee (arm and leg).Bring your voyaging questions, and sign up to be notified by email for the date of the livestream.

The post Rigging Redo: Our Switch to Synthetic appeared first on Cruising World.

Canvas was once the common thread that sailors used for shade. Today, it has evolved into superfabrics such as Sunbrella and WeatherMax. There’s now an artful blend of ergonomics, careful stitching, and recognition that when it comes to the crew soaking up sunshine, less is better.

Designs vary, and coming up with the right-size dodger, Bimini top, awning or full cockpit cover takes careful consideration. Racing sailors embrace small, collapsible spray hoods that shield little more than the companionway. A more expansive covering could hinder sailhandling and add windage that might carve 0.042 of a knot off boatspeed. At the other end of the spectrum, cocoon advocates maximize their canvas footprint. 

Most cruisers find the right compromise to be a medium-­size dodger and Bimini top combo. The latter can easily be folded, minimizing windage in heavy-weather situations.

Dodgers and smaller spray hoods also improve ventilation, a feature that’s as welcome in the galley as it is in a quarter berth. In colder climes, the person on watch can tuck up under the dodger and still maintain 360-degree visibility. This type of spray hood won’t interfere with sail setting, reefing, steering or other vital aspects of boathandling. The addition of zippered windows guarantees ventilation in light air. 

Another useful attribute associated with a well-made dodger can be the series of handholds leading in and out of the cockpit. Fabric covers can be snapped over the windows when the boat is at rest, protecting the clear plastic and greatly extending its life span.  

A dodger works in harmony with a sailboat’s deck layout. In many cases, a canvas pro will modify the standard design to cope with halyards that have been led aft, and with winches and rope clutches linked to the line handling. While a one-shape-fits-all approach can hamper winch-handle rotation or make rope clutch clusters harder to operate, a good canvas loft will take these issues into consideration and design the dodger accordingly.

Bimini tops, named after a particularly sunny spot in the Bahamas, can add shade while welcoming the breeze. These tops can be quickly raised or lowered via a set of wicketlike bows hinged at the base. 

However, sailing under such a large cover has a few challenges. The first is mainsail handling—setting, dousing, reefing and trimming. Bimini tops with built-in, overhead “sail trim” windows often fail to provide enough of a wide-angle view to keep tabs on leech telltales and those near the luff. Things get even more complicated with a summer thunderstorm or an offshore cold front, when the need to reef sails in a hurry is the priority, and an oversize Bimini top spells trouble. 

The best solution, especially for those making offshore passages, is a smaller Bimini top—one that works in concert with a dodger and can be easily secured before a heavy-weather encounter.

A full cockpit enclosure might appear to offer greater protection from wind and sea, and a well-supported structure can withstand substantial wind gusts, but when the onslaught includes breaking waves, the “Florida room” is likely to lose its appeal. However, it remains a legit option for inshore cruising during the shoulder seasons or while wending down the Intracoastal Waterway. Remember that in a gale or storm at sea, the extra windage and large surface area become a significant hazard.

Another key consideration involves the stainless-steel tubular arch geometry. It adds shape and structural support to the canvas cover, and determines where the crew enters and exits the cockpit. The best dodgers and Bimini tops take advantage of pathways where nonskid surfaces prevail, and where handholds are abundant. A major problem with many full cockpit covers is their extreme rail-to-rail design and how outboard the entry and exit points become.  

Hardware used to secure the canvas and the bows must be carefully attached to the deck. In many cases, the sailboat’s designer never envisioned anything being attached in such locations, and the core material, sandwiched between the top and bottom FRP skins, was not meant to be penetrated. It’s important to seal the core with epoxy and carefully bed hardware with marine sealant. Major support stanchions should be through-bolted, and might require topping and backing plates.    

If you’re in the market for canvas-work, note that most lofts develop skills building covers that are appropriate for their local waters. Sailors who intend to cross oceans should look for rugged, heavily reinforced, lower-profile dodgers with mounting hardware that’s ready to shrug off breaking Gulf Stream seas.

Do It Yourself

Many cruising sailors enjoy spending time guiding canvas under a sewing machine needle as they stitch their way to a new awning, dodger or Bimini top. Those with a machine might find lee cloths or a mainsail cover to be the best starting point, but for sailors ready for more of a challenge, a DIY dodger or Bimini-top project awaits. 

There’s lots of guidance, kits, tools and sewing machines available from Sailrite. Check local sailing and seamanship schools for how-to courses in marine canvas-work.

Measure carefully, create paper patterns, and then set up the stainless-steel tubing framework that defines the cover’s shape. Do a fit check of the top and side panels. Add assembly info with tailor’s chalk. Terms such as top, bottom, forward, aft, port and starboard, along with marks where panels attach, will prevent assembly snafus. They’ll also ensure that hardware and fasteners will be mounted in the right locations.   

Tubular stainless-steel bows define the shape and size of the dodger or awning, and the most noticeable characteristic is defined by the radius of these bows. Hard bends deliver more room under the dodger, while a smooth radius creates a spray hood with less windage, a lower profile, and less room for crew seeking shelter. 

One value of a kit dodger is that the dimensions are set, and the curve of the bows matches the cut of the fabric. Sailrite provides meticulous directions, and its online videos make DIY projects user-friendly. You can reuse existing stainless-steel bows and make a new, identical cover. The old fabric will act as a pattern and be instructive for assembly. 

I’ve grown quite fond of sewing Sunbrella and WeatherMax fabrics. Sunbrella is a bit easier to work with, while WeatherMax is a top performer when it comes to strength, durability and longevity. Double-sided tape, spring clamps and a staple gun help to hold panels in place while sewing.

The post Made for Shade: Cockpit Cover Options appeared first on Cruising World.

If you are planning to do any cruising that takes you away from your dock or mooring for even a single overnight, there are five things that you simply must know how to do on your diesel engine.

1. Replace the Fuel Filter

Diesel fuel is prone to contamination and water accumulation, especially in the marine environment. Diesel fuel, unlike gasoline, can actually support microbial growth, often incorrectly referred to as algae. That black slime is a microscopic goo of “bugs” that can thrive in a boat’s fuel tank. Typically, they live right at the line where water in the fuel and the fuel itself meets. 

The water will always settle to the bottom of a filter assembly. It is imperative that a diesel engine be equipped with two fuel filters: a primary and a secondary. You need to know how to service these filters when the worst happens, should they become waterlogged or clogged with contaminants. 

Filter elements are among the mandatory spares you need to keep on board. I highly recommend the Racor brand, preferably those equipped with a water alarm system, as primary filters. These have a clear fuel bowl that lets you actually see water and/or contamination in the fuel. This is a major improvement over the solid metal filter housings that are typical as secondary filters with diesel engines. 

Swapping out these fuel-­filter elements is easy. You’ll need the correct size spanner wrench to loosen the single nut that holds the element into its housing. You’ll also need a drip pan to catch fuel that spills as you remove the filter housing assembly. 

Make sure to replace the sealing gasket at the top of the filter housing assembly. Also make sure the new filter is a match for the one you are replacing. These are rated in micron size. Typical micron ratings are 5, 10 or 20, but they could be as small as 2 microns for the secondary filter. 

Once reassembled, your filter assembly will be full of air. This is going to need to be bled out before running the engine. 

2. Bleed the Fuel System

Air in your engine’s fuel system will occur when you replace your fuel filters, or if you run out of fuel in your tank. Either way, you are going to need to bleed the air out of your fuel system. 

The method will vary depending upon the type of primary fuel pump. It gets the fuel from your tank to the engine.

If your boat has an ­electric pump, things will be easy. Simply crack open the fuel line that connects to the high-pressure injection pump on your engine, and then turn on the electric pump. Once you see fuel spitting out of the fuel-line connection, tighten the nut. Next, go to the engine’s fuel injectors and crack open the hex nut on the fuel line at the injector farthest from the injection pump. Tighten the connection when you see fuel spitting out of the line at the injector. Repeat this process on each fuel line, moving to the closest to the ­high-pressure injection pump. 

If your engine has a ­mechanical primary fuel pump, then it will most likely have a small lever to let you activate the pump manually. Once all the air is bled out of the system, the engine should start up as normal. 

One extremely important exception is if you have a newer electronic common rail injection system. Never, ever attempt to bleed these ­systems. They are self-­bleeding, and they run at extremely high pressures that will cause personal injury if fuel sprays you.

3. Replace the ­Water-Pump ­Impeller

Add to your minimum spare parts list a raw-water pump impeller and cover gasket. 

If you maintain your boat religiously, then you will rarely have to replace this impeller on an emergency basis. I replace the impeller on my boat every two boating seasons and have never had one fail. That said, it does happen, and replacement intervals will be dictated more by engine run time versus monthly intervals. 

A clogged seawater ­strainer in the line that supplies water to the pump could cause an emergency failure. The impeller is made of rubber and is self-lubricated by this seawater. No water means no lubricant for the impeller, and premature failure will ­happen. It’s always best to follow your engine manufacturer’s recommendations as to service intervals. 

To replace the impeller, remove the screws holding the pump housing cover. Typically, you’ll find a super-thin cover gasket. This will need to be replaced. 

The rubber impeller can now be removed. Typically, prying it out with a pair of small screwdrivers will do the trick in sliding the rubber impeller off its driveshaft. A plethora of YouTube videos demonstrate how to service a raw-water pump. I recommend viewing several before you attempt this task.

4. Change the Engine Oil and Filter

Your engine manufacturer will specify change frequencies, along with oil type (American Petroleum Institute rating) and viscosity levels. It is imperative to use only the ­viscosity and API service rating recommended. Not all 30W oil is the same. 

Even though your engine may have a conventional drain plug at the low point of the engine sump, in most marine installations, you won’t be able to access it effectively with a drain pan to catch the old oil as it drains out. So, the most common approach is to draw the old oil out of the engine through the dipstick hole. West Marine offers pump kits ranging from about $45 to $200, depending on how fancy you want to get. 

Run your engine to warm things up before you begin the oil-change process. It’ll make things much easier because it will thin out the oil a bit.

Oil filters today are by and large of the spin-on variety. You might want to acquire an appropriately sized filter wrench to help with removal. Depending on the filter’s location on your engine, you might need a small catch basin to collect oil that leaks out as you remove the filter element. 

Once it’s off, double-check to be certain that the gasket seal for the filter came off with the filter. The seal can stick on the engine. Remove it if it did remain in place. 

Next, apply some oil on the gasket on the new filter, and screw it onto the engine. Hand-tighten only. Don’t ever use the filter wrench to tighten the new filter.

Next, insert the thin tube that came with the new oil-change pump into the dipstick hole on your engine until it bottoms out. Activate the pump (electric or manual), and suck the oil out of your engine.

Once all the old oil is removed, add the new oil in the amount specified in your engine manual. Start the engine, and look for any sign of leaking at the filter. Then shut down the engine and recheck the oil level. 

5. Shut Down a Runaway Diesel

Although rare, having a “runaway” diesel is a terrifying experience for the uninitiated. You shut off all the engine controls, but your engine continues to run at full speed. 

A number of things can cause this: excessive oil consumption that leads to oil accumulation in the combustion chamber, crankcase oil vapor entering the combustion chamber, turbocharger failure, damaged turbo seals, and fuel-system faults.

The good news is that all of this is unlikely on fairly new, well-maintained engines. But there are plenty of 20-year-old diesels in service today, and they are vulnerable. 

Your diesel needs three things to run: air, fuel and compression. To stop a runaway, remove the easiest thing on that list to eliminate: air. Most diesels have some sort of an air breather protecting the air intake on the engine. It looks like an air cleaner on most engines but might not have a filter element installed. (Air filters are pretty useless at sea, where there’s not a lot of dust flying about.) 

Keep a small block of wood on board that will give you a handhold, and block the air intake on the engine. Hold it in place, being careful to keep any and all body parts away from the air-intake hole. The suction will be extreme. 

Expect the engine to continue running for a few minutes, depending on the size of the air-intake manifold. Eventually, the engine will smother itself and shut down. Then comes the hard work: finding the exact cause of the runaway.

The post 5 DIY Basics For Your Diesel Engine appeared first on Cruising World.

For many cruisers, safer sailing resides in the can—at least when the can contains a nonskid coating. It’s a sure cure to ­banana-peel-slick decks. Fortunately, such surfaces can be rejuvenated by an ­experienced do-it-yourselfer.

In most cases, nonskid ­patterns are molded into a fiberglass sailboat’s deck. Over the years, these ­surfaces ­degrade. As the crazed, oxidized gelcoat becomes more porous, its effectiveness as a water barrier also decreases. 

Recoating a fiberglass deck with a nonskid paint is a lot easier than repainting the shiny topsides. First of all, decks are relatively flat, while topsides are much more susceptible to paint hangs and sags. Refinished topsides are expected to gleam like the side panels of a Ferrari, while nonskid coatings are neither ultrasmooth nor automotive-­glossy. The perfection bar is lower.

What is vital, however, is a thorough understanding of the paint system you are going to use, and strict adherence to the manufacturer’s guidelines. 

The process begins with a degreasing and a washdown with a stiff-bristle scrub brush. This should be a true workout. The goal is to remove the detritus that’s been ground into the surface over the years.

When everything is dry again, scuff-sand the surface with 80-grit sandpaper. A vacuum-linked random orbital sander is ideal for the job. The objective is to scuff up a well-adhered substrate. There’s no need to remove the textured gelcoat as long as it is intact. If it’s failing here or there, it might be necessary to remove some or all of the textured gelcoat using heavier 50- or 36-grit sanding discs. This is a task for those with more experience, and with vacuum dust-collection equipment. 

Options for new nonskid coatings include single- and two-part paint systems. The former streamlines the process. The latter involves a two-part epoxy primer and a two-part linear polyurethane topcoat. In both cases, the finish coat is laced with a specific grade of mineral grit or with plastic microspheres to texture the surface.  

Most approaches utilize a primer and topcoat protocol. And the old wisdom of building a strong foundation holds true. When it comes to primers, nothing beats the durability of a two-part epoxy. Awlgrip 545 has earned a following among pros, but I’ve also come to appreciate how well Interlux’s 404/414 Primekote has stood the test of time. A decade after I applied a two-part linear polyurethane nonskid topcoat over the 404/414 primer, the texture had diminished, but the adhesive tenacity of the epoxy underlayer remained intact. This made repainting for the next decade easier than ever.

Single-part paints also have significantly evolved in terms of easy handling and longevity. I had painted the cockpit sole of my sloop, Wind Shadow, with Interlux’s single-part Brightside, and the deck on a Cape Dory Typhoon with Pettit’s EZ Poxy. Both were over a two-part epoxy primer. After five years, the coatings remained well-adhered, and there was still some Topsider-grabbing grit left in the paint. I recently applied some of Interlux’s Toplac Plus over the single-part primer Pre-Kote Plus, and I found the comb easy to handle.

When it comes to additives, I favor Awlgrip’s Griptex and Interlux’s Intergrip. I prefer a foam roller (West System 800) and a bristle brush, along with a homemade extra-large shaker to dust the surface with additional grit. This light dusting will leave some microspheres poorly immersed in paint. After a couple of days of curing, hose down the deck and scrub away the excess grit. The poorly adhered material will wash away, leaving an evenly coated, excellent ­nonskid deck.      

Prior to primer application, do a final dust-off, and mask the boundary that delineates the end of the nonskid area. Use a good-quality masking tape such as 3M 233+. It’s a solvent-resistant, highly adhesive tape that leaves no residue. Put on a pair of kneepads, bring along a cotton dust cloth, and have a single-edge razor blade to cut the tape. Work around stanchions, hardware and other tight corners. Once the tape is in place, do a secondary press to make sure the tape is adhered to the surrounding smooth gelcoat.

Painting the nonskid portion of a sailboat’s deck doesn’t necessarily mean tackling every bit of the job at once. Start with a small area, such as the cockpit sole. Sample products and procedures. Build the skills you’ll need, and then decide what’s next.

Nonskid Manufacturers

Paint manufacturers have come up with some interesting ­approaches to creating nonslip surfaces on sailboats. Each of these has websites with training videos. Stick with one manufacturer’s product lineup, and follow the mixing and application guidelines.

Interlux’s new single-part silicone alkyd Toplac Plus and the microsphere additive Intergrip are easy to apply. They create a durable nonskid finish that teams up with Pre-Kote Plus primer or two-part Epoxy Primekote. 

Pettit Paint’s Tuff Coat is a water-based, rubberized nonskid that requires surface preparation. Prior to the final washing, Surface Prep 92 is applied. After sanding, Tuff Coat primer is applied. After that’s cured, two coats of Tuff Coat are spread using a Pettit roller.

Epifanes offers premixed Nonskid Deckcoating that is a blend of single-part mono-urethane topside paint and polypropylene bead traction additive. The latter is also marketed independently for use with two-part topcoat products.

The post DIY Tips for Repairing Nonskid appeared first on Cruising World.

The most notable upgrade that my husband, Chris, and I have done aboard our 41-foot, 1979 Cheoy Lee, Avocet, since we bought her in 2018 is replacing her toe rail with a bulwark. This project changed not only the aesthetic of our boat’s design, but also the physical construct, making her deck and hull stronger than ever. 

A conversion like this one includes many technical layers that combine naval design, carpentry, metalwork and a whole lot of patience. For starters, our research revealed that there is a lot of confusion about what defines a toe rail and a bulwark. After some internet deep dives, and discussions with boatwrights and naval architects, we concluded that a toe rail is a piece of wood, aluminum or fiberglass that usually does not exceed more than 3 inches tall and that is bolted, every few inches, through the deck. Anything bigger (which typically is bolted to the stanchions) is called a bulwark.

Sailor and author John Kretschmer notes that when choosing an offshore cruising boat, it’s best to consider a vessel with a “deck-to-hull joint that does not rely on bolts, screws, rivets, or adhesive for strength or watertightness.” He notes that the idea is to eliminate potential leaks. 

With all of this in mind, we explored how we could implement a strong bulwark and increase Avocet’s bluewater standard. Avocet’s teak toe rail was (at one point) structural, connecting the deck-to-hull joint with through bolts every 6 inches. Over time, the bolts corroded because of dissimilar metals, leaving numerous voids where water leaked through, creating a mess of problems belowdecks. To repair this damage, we had to remove the toe rail and then decide how to proceed with a replacement.

Choosing the bulwark option let us glass a seamless deck-to-hull joint that would reinforce the interior glass, as well as reconcile the damage, further eliminating the need to rebolt. Our deck-to-hull joint was not initially glassed externally because the process is labor-intensive and expensive. Avocet’s era of boats were primarily built economically, in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and the quicker approach is to construct a toe rail and bolt it. This solution is fine as long as the hardware is not corroding.

For three months, Chris and I spent hours glassing, designing, fabricating and constructing our bulwark, which incorporated many design aspects influenced by the Bristol Channel Cutter. The bulwark bases were 316 stainless L brackets that we recessed into the deck so that they would sit flush below the stanchions. Each bracket was a unique bend measurement to anticipate the curve of Avocet’s hull, allowing the wood to conform and naturally continue the angle of the hull above the deck.

Next, we began to work on the wood that would be mounted to the brackets. We wanted to use teak at first, but our wallets did not agree, so we researched rot-resistant hardwoods such as white oak, purpleheart, black acacia and mahogany. A contractor pointed us toward cumaru, also known as Brazilian teak. 

Chris spent days prior to the wood’s arrival studying various scarf joints to choose the best method to join the three sections of wood together into a single 42-foot board. He settled on a mechanically fastened plated scarf joint that would be 32 inches long. Chris used an accurate combo square, circular saw, Japanese handsaw, sharp chisels, assorted drill bits, 316 stainless hardware, and marine glue to construct the bulwark plank.

Sixty-four stainless-steel fasteners later, we had bulwarks. The wood added a hint of timeless design to Avocet, in a nod to our favorite classic yacht designers. 

The final pieces to be installed were the hawseholes to replace our fairleads, which we felt did not do the overall hull design justice. Our cast-bronze hawseholes completed the design.

When the project was complete, we broke free of our dock lines and made a mad dash to the Channel Islands so that we could enjoy our boat the way she was intended. Water splashed the deck, washing overboard immediately under the bulwark through the slim gap. It was perfect. The height of the bulwark made it easy to stow jerry cans, fenders, lines and even the dinghy without clutter.

This conversion was a long process, but we are pleased with the outcome. As Kretschmer writes: “No other man-made object blends design, craftsmanship, passion and pure optimism the way a sailboat does. With a good sailboat, anything is possible.”

For more details on our bulwark conversion, visit our website, svavocet.com, or check out our YouTube channel, Sailing Avocet.

The post How We Built Our Own Bulwarks appeared first on Cruising World.

The galley we inherited when we bought our Down East 45 schooner, Britannia, was both old (circa 1977) and old-fashioned. The stove was rusty, and the refrigerator had seen better days. It was impossible to keep the stainless-steel sink “stainless;” it was pitted with more rust marks whenever we came to the boat. It was time for a refit. I started a list with prices of the items to replace, but it grew longer and longer and soon started to look like a major investment. The refrigerator probably heard my wife, Kati, complaining about it, because it suddenly died, so that went to the top of the list.

I decided to remodel the whole galley in one continuous operation. This way, it wouldn’t matter so much if any particular appliance was out of commission for a while, and I would not have to put my tools away and clean up after every day’s work. I could just leave it and continue the next day.

For both the cook and the crew, there are not many more important areas in a boat. Of course, galleys vary enormously in shape and size from one vessel to the next, therefore our remodel reflected our personal ideas and needs. But most of the individual things I altered could be applied to any galley restoration.

We decided to visit the West Marine superstore in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, which had a large selection of lovely modern appliances we could actually inspect, rather than buy online without seeing them. Sailorman, a consignment warehouse, was also only a few blocks away and full of similar goodies, and not just used equipment either. (Financially speaking, letting my wife loose in these places to shop for kitchen appliances was perhaps not a good idea. From there, things started to slip slightly out of control.)

I had made a detailed drawing of the existing layout, with dimensions of the different places where things would be fitted. I could then take measurements of actual equipment and make sure they would fit. It’s a good thing I did because the dimensions listed on some leaflets and websites were not accurate; when you are planning to fit a new appliance into a fixed-size space, that’s important information to have.

Comparing equipment and prices took absolutely ages, and I wasn’t even allowed to look at radars, chart plotters or stereos (you know, gear that’s really important). In any case, we trundled back to our home in Orlando with a vanload of equipment, which I couldn’t possibly install all at once.

From West Marine, we bought a Seaward Princess stainless-steel three-burner stove, an Isotherm Cruise CR130 front-opening stainless refrigerator and a Panasonic stainless convection microwave (plus an assortment of pots and pans I didn’t even know were needed). At ­Sailorman, we found a used but clean-looking Splendide 2100 washer/dryer at a knockdown price. I had absolutely no idea where I was going to put it, or if it even worked, because it wasn’t even on the list. All this ­equipment was stacked in my garage until I was ready to install individual items.

The easiest appliance to install was the three-burner stove, which fit nicely into the same space as the old stove. I just had to change the position of the gimbal plates and locking latch, then connect it to the existing propane gas line, and that was that (except for painting the aperture white beforehand). The old stove went into our marina dumpster.

I managed to test the ­washer/dryer by connecting it to my home’s hot and cold ­water system using hoses and an extension cable, and it worked fine. However, the only space large enough to install it was where the old fridge had been. At 148 pounds, this machine is very heavy and also bulky, measuring roughly 2 feet square and 3 feet high. It was a major effort for three men to haul it on board, and it only slid through the companionway with a fraction of an inch to spare. We managed to lever it into this space very neatly, as though it was always meant to be there.

Connecting the washer’s hot and cold water pipes into the boat’s pressure system, then installing a discharge pipe and dryer vent, was another ­struggle. I didn’t want to ­damage the Formica countertop, so it took a lot of awkward drilling and jigsawing to get the pipes through bulkheads and floors of plywood and fiberglass of multiple thicknesses. I fitted shut-off valves on the hot and cold supply as a safety measure, in case the washer’s internal shut-off valves failed. I plumbed the water discharge through a new, above-the-waterline seacock with an anti-siphon loop. The dryer exhaust pipe was 4 inches in diameter, which I angled downward through the floor and into the engine room, near the aft blower outlet. When the dryer is in use, we also switch the engine-room blower on, which sucks out all the hot air. The washer also needed a heavy-duty electrical cable connected to a spare breaker on the 120-volt AC board. Installing this single item took three days.

Fitting the washer where the old fridge had been left our new one without a home. However, behind the aft cabin door was a large hanging locker just right for it. The only problem here was that the fridge would then be in the aft cabin with a door in the way, and who wants a refrigerator in an aft cabin anyway, unless it’s full of beer?

It is a well-known truth: On boats, one simple-sounding project usually leads to another, and another. …

I carefully removed the complete aft cabin door frame and bulkhead, which was a project in its own right because it was bonded to the side of the hull. I repositioned the door farther aft, thereby incorporating the locker as a continuation of the galley. However, this was complicated by the fact that the floor in the aft cabin was 8 inches lower than the galley, so I had to make an 8-inch infill for the bottom of the door. It was then only necessary to remove the locker door, build a platform for the fridge and cut a hole in the shelf above it for a vent. I wired the refrigerator through two breakers on the circuit board, one for 120 volts AC and the other 12 volts DC. There was no loss of space in this alteration either because it was all in the passageway to the aft cabin, and there were still plenty of hanging lockers and drawers in that cabin.

The convection microwave fit neatly into a space on the counter and just needed wiring into the 120-volt AC system.

My wife found a very nice twin-basin stainless-steel sink online, complete with a cutting board. But it was not the same shape as the old sink and also an under-mount installation, like modern sinks, so it would not fit in the existing opening. To fit this sink really meant a new countertop, and naturally, Kati didn’t want one section looking different from the other two.

As mentioned, one thing leads to another. …

I had to agree that the countertops, with their faded scratched-teak laminate, were past their prime. So off we went shopping for new ones.

Kati had a notion she would like granite, but the thinnest we could find were 1¼ inches thick, and very heavy. We settled for much lighter Corian material and found a local kitchen-remodeling company that could accurately cut the three separate sections out of ½-inch-thick material. To make it look thicker, they suggested making it double the thickness on the exposed edges, and shaping them with a nice rounded molding.

Before they could do anything, however, I had to make three precise cardboard templates. The sink section was the most critical, because it had to have cutouts for the sink, the top of the freezer and a hole for the faucet. I removed the ornamental teak column at the edge of the sink because I had other plans for that end of the galley. I took great care to make these templates, and along with assurances of accurate cutting by the supplier, it paid off. All the countertops fit perfectly over the top of the old laminate and instantly transformed the galley. I finished by adding varnished teak fiddles on all exposed edges and also installed a couple of extra power outlets.

The new stainless-steel ­double sink needed to be installed before the new countertop. I enlarged the cutout in the laminate and caulked it in place, then slid the new counter over the top and caulked round the edges. We had also purchased a new single-swivel sink faucet with a pull-out spout that I plumbed into the existing hot and cold pipes. Of course, a new sink also meant new drains underneath, which is always a tight scramble, even in a house. The lid for the freezer fit exactly in the right place.

The four drawers at the side of the range were repositioned flush with the stove, along with the locker below, making them all level. All the teak was stripped of old varnish, and two coats of high gloss were applied. There was no trash bin, so I built one from ½-inch plywood with a louvered front. It pivots outward from the end of the galley and holds a waste bag on simple file clips for easy removal.

It took two months to complete the remodeling, but we now have a fabulous new modern galley, as shipshape and efficient as any small apartment.

The post From Modest to Modern: My DIY Galley Makeover appeared first on Cruising World.

My 25-year-old Hunter 42 had aluminum tanks, which was very common across the boat and RV industries from the 1950s until well into the 1990s. Fortunately, the fuel tank was in great condition, which was confirmed after I added two inspection ports and cleaned that tank for the first time in 25 years, but that’s another story…

I had two aluminum water tanks: an 85-gallon one amidships and a 65-gallon one forward. Both, as one should expect, had some corrosion. My forward tank had been leaking very slightly, so I knew that needed replacement. However, replacing that tank would be a huge undertaking, requiring the removal (read: major deconstruction) of the entire guest bed and drawers, plus removal of the door and frame in the forward cabin. And then, after all that, the aluminum tank would need to be cut into two pieces in order to remove it from the boat. Obviously, this also means that the replacement plastic tank would need to be a little smaller capacity to be able to get it into the boat. I know well from sailboat owners forums online that this is a very common conundrum for many boat owners, so I set out to research if a refurbishment was both possible and practical. The main problem I had was to find a coating or sealant that was certified as food safe, or suitable for potable water. I finally came across a Norwegian specialist coatings firm called Jotun. Initially, my internet search had found “Jotun Tankguard DW,” but unfortunately, it was not certified for use on aluminum. This is where the technical guys at Jotun were very helpful. They researched their archives and found that another product called Jotacote 605 was indeed suitable for application onto aluminum and had been laboratory tested and certified as food safe by the NATA (Australian government certifiers) — therefore, perfect for my water tank.

The Job

Step 1 — First, I had to cut a new access hole in the base of the V-berth in order to uncover the forward section of the tank (Figure 1). The tank has two full-width baffles, so I needed to cut two inspection ports in order to have enough access to the entire tank for preparation and coating (Figure 2).

Step 2 — I did a general inspection of the tank, and aside from some corrosion, it was in reasonable overall shape (Figure 3).

Step 3 — Next, I thoroughly cleaned all corrosion from all tank surfaces in order to assess the real condition (Figure 4). I was advised by the original tank manufacturer to use white vinegar to neutralize the corrosion.

Step 4 — After I decided that it was well worth a shot at refurbishing the tank, I started the prep work (Figure 5). Jotun advises that all surfaces must be rubbed with coarse-grit sandpaper to provide a good grip for proper adhesion of the Jotacote 605.

Step 5 — I found seven actual holes in my tank, ranging from pinholes to about 4 mm in diameter. I filled these with J-B WaterWeld epoxy putty (Figure 6). To do this, I pushed the WaterWeld well into each hole and in the deeper corrosion spots, then smoothed the top side.

Step 6 — Jotacote 605 is a two-part epoxy-based surface coating that can be mixed in various colors. I have blue because it was available off the shelf. I initially went over all the J-B WaterWeld patches and all welded seams throughout the tank with an initial Jotacote 605 coat. I let this dry and then applied a full surface coat throughout the entire tank (Figure 7). I left it well ventilated for 24 hours and then went back to do a second coat. After another 24 hours and a close inspection of all internal surfaces to ensure I was getting even coverage, I applied the third coat. (I utilized my iPhone to take pictures of all surfaces, which makes it simple to see all nooks and crannies.) By now, I had a beautiful, even and thick Jotacote 605 surface throughout. It really does look great.

Step 7 — I made inspection panels to cover and seal the two 51⁄2-by-12-inch access holes I had cut into the top of the tank (Figure 8). I used 10 mm clear polycarbonate for the panels due to its absolute strength, and I used M6 stainless-steel bolts at 30 mm centers to secure them. I did this because the aluminum is only about 3 mm thick and was a little warped due to the new access holes, so I needed to be sure it would pull straight and form a tight seal. Because the tank material was too thin to tap a thread into, I had to come up with an alternative. For the new forward inspection panel, due to it straddling the front baffle, I used 5⁄8-inch-wide-by-1⁄8-inch-thick aluminum strips as backing plates, into which I drilled and tapped holes in line with the holes in my tank top and polycarbonate cover plate. This allowed me to put these strips with bolts inserted into the tank and then poke the bolts back up through pre-drilled holes in the tank. I could then use a thin rubber band strung between the first and last bolts to hold this in place. Next, I applied a thin bead of silicone as a gasket and lowered the polycarbonate cover plate down onto it, then secured with nuts and both flat and spring washers.

For the aft inspection panel, I added a screw-type deck plate manufactured by Beckson Marine as an access port (I happened to have a spare one). This allowed me to simply pass the bolts down through the Beckson and up through the pre-drilled holes from inside the tank to secure the polycarbonate cover plate with the same bead of silicone as a gasket. I filled the tank and left it for one week to confirm that there were no leaks. I then drained the tank to ensure that any residual taste from the Jotacote 605 was removed before refilling the tank with lovely fresh Australian water!

I invested about 12 hours of labor into this project. The total cost of the tank refurbishment was less than $200 all up, not including my labor, so I consider this a very successful endeavor. With a custom-made plastic replacement tank costing around $1,000, this was a no-brainer — not to mention actually a whole lot faster and much easier. In fact, I would now thoroughly recommend anyone with aluminum tanks to perform this project as a preventive measure, rather than wait until you have problems.

The post How to Refurbish Your Water Tanks appeared first on Cruising World.