Since their advent in the early 20th century, diesel engines have been refined to a state of near perfection. Most are robust, reliable and long-lived, provided they receive preventive maintenance, clean fuel, cooling water, and air for combustion. 

When they do fail, the problem can usually be traced to a handful of culprits: deferred maintenance (a deteriorated impeller or broken belt, for instance) or contaminated or interrupted fuel, with the latter including air ingestion, an electrical fault, or a design or manufacturing defect. 

This column focuses on fuel plumbing. Fuel is usually conveyed from the tank to the engine via flexible hose; in some cases, it’s via copper tubing. Any hose that’s used must be rated for marine fuel applications, including the ability to resist exposure to flame for a minimum of 2.5 minutes. Hose that meets this requirement is typically marked USCG A1. It should also include the name of the manufacturer, as well as the date it was manufactured. If any of this information is absent, particularly the A1 rating, then the hose is disqualified for use in a marine fuel application.

A section of flexible hose must be used between the tubing and the engine, and the tubing must be immobilized against engine vibration and gear shifting. For this transition location from metallic tube to hose, the interface cannot be direct. Put another way, the hose cannot simply be clamped over the tube. The tube must instead be flared, and a flare-to-hose fitting should be used. 

Termination of fuel hoses is most often achieved by using common pipe-to-hose adapters and hose clamps. While welcomed, double clamps are not required, at least where American Boat and Yacht Council compliance is concerned. 

In fuel-supply applications, double clamps should be used only if the adapter is long enough to support both clamps with room to spare. If the adapter is not long enough to support dual clamps, then a single (preferably solid rather than perforated) band clamp should be used.

One caveat where this practice is concerned: Some adapters are designed to be used without clamps. They are often differentiated from conventional adapters by a plastic collar. The barbs on these adapters are especially aggressive; if clamped, they can pierce the hose’s inner liner, leading to leaks and delamination, and interrupting the fuel supply. And these adapters can be used only with hose designed and labeled for the application. 

The other form of hose termination utilizes a clamped or swaged in-place fitting. Clamped or field-assembled fittings are available in brass and plated mild steel. Brass fittings are reasonably priced and corrosion-resistant. Mild-steel fittings are cost-effective but should be corrosion-inhibited after they are installed. When installing these fittings, a proprietary installation mandrel must be used to prevent damage to the hose liner, which could ultimately create a blockage. 

Swaged fittings require the use of a swaging tool, and thus are poorly suited for do-it-yourself projects. If you know the lengths you need and the end-fitting types, you can have a batch of hoses swaged by a commercial hose shop.

Fuel-fill hose must also be rated and marked for the application. It calls for an A2 rating. In this case, double clamps are not only recommended, but they are required for ABYC compliance. This is one of only two applications where double clamps are mandated, with the other being exhaust hose.

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post Monthly Maintenance: The Importance of Proper Fuel Plumbing for Diesel Engines appeared first on Cruising World.

I know nothing about hauling in the good ol’ US of A. The last time I did so was in the early ’80s. However, during the past 20 or so haulouts in foreign waters, I’ve learned a thing or two about being on the hard along distant shores. 

Of course, my perspective might not be yours. I have little money, do all my own work, and continue to live aboard while out of the water. Plus, I’m prejudiced. I’d rather haul at a family-run yard managed by boaters than at a corporate-owned yard run impersonally for the benefit of landlubber stockholders.

Is that wrong to admit in print?

I don’t think so. The quality of our lives—my wife, myself and our vessel—is important to us. Hauling is stressful. I’m always on a mission to get my boat back into the water ASAP, and my wonderful cruising life back on track as well.

Obviously, I prefer being surrounded by like-minded people in the shipyard. That means workers and managers who admire determined sailors working on their own vessels and who don’t view us as cheapskates attempting to wreck the yard’s bottom line.

My favorite place to haul is New Zealand. Most of the yards are family-run. Dozens allow you to work on your own boat. In Whangarei, anything you need is within a short bicycle ride of Dockland 5 Marine Ltd. and other wonderful yards. Even better, any marine item you need custom-made, from a small padeye to an entire rig, can be fabricated locally. And it is cheap. And there’s trust. Admiration, even.

I once had an expensive, custom, stainless-steel exhaust flange made to my specs. The fabricator sent it to me for a test fit—not only before I’d paid for it, but also before I even had a chance to send him a deposit. That’s how the farmers and boaters of New Zealand treat one another every day.

South Africa is another great place to haul. While we never have anyone work on our boat, the labor is cheap there, as are the yards. We’ve had great luck in the Caribbean, Trinidad, Australia and Malaysia—even the Med as well.

The oddest, and one of the best, yards we’ve ever hauled at is Rebak Island Resort & Marina on Langkawi, in Southeast Asia. It was so clean that I had to visit the office to ask: “Are you sure you’re OK with me painting my boat here? I mean, I don’t see a drop of antifouling anywhere. I’ve been in doctor’s offices, in hospitals, even, that are dirtier.”

It was like hauling at the Ritz. White-coated Burmese waiters scurried around the yard wearing silk slippers that curled into a circle at the toe. They carried silver serving trays of lobsters, crabs and who knows what else. (Caviar, perhaps?)

“This is the finest resort I’ve ever been to,” my open-mouthed wife, Carolyn, said while wearing her grinding goggles around her neck. The yard was managed by Taj Hotels of India, and they literally treated us like rajas. See how much fun hauling can be in a nurturing environment?

Of course, language can be a problem. In Indonesia, many of the numbers sound the same—just like eight and 18 and 80 do in English—and one yard intentionally verbally quotes in the lower number but then bills in the higher. Buyer beware, and get the quote in writing.

There’s also sometimes shoddy work. I watched a yard in St. Maarten epoxy over a small, flush through-hull. Who needs a siphon break for the engine, anyway?

In Thailand, a bunch of house painters were gobsmacked when they learned how much an Awlgrip job cost in the West. Thus, they spray-painted three yachts for half that figure. 

The yacht on the portside with the red hull and the one on the starboard side with blue hull came out white as well. “Yep,” one of the distraught owners said. “Southeast Asia has the world’s most expensive cheap labor.”

On the other hand, you can get some amazing deals if you are careful. In that same area of Phuket, I went to a machine shop to have an item fabricated. The quote was for $125—far, far too cheap. I questioned it. No, the quote was firm. Two days later, the piece was finished and constructed in a more labor-intensive manner than requested. It was utterly lovely, a work of art.

“Estimate no good,” the grease-smeared machinist said. “It go fast. Ninety-eight dollars please.”

Which reminds me of the time in Malaysia when I had some work done on our chainplates. No one in the shop spoke a single word of English. Large, overhead leather straps powered some of the pre-World War II equipment. Not only didn’t they take credit cards, but they may never have seen a credit card. 

When it came time to pay for the work—which kept expanding as the project progressed—I reached into my pocket and pulled out $300 and change. They took the change. Just the coins. Try as I might, I couldn’t get them to accept any folding money. One man even held his hand over his heart as a sign of respect.

Once in the Kerala district of India, I didn’t want to carry my gallons of antifouling three blocks to the boat, so I grabbed a taxi. Distracted while loading the paint amid the trucks, snake charmers, limbless beggars and rickshaw carts, I failed to ask the price.

A minute later at our destination, the driver concentrated hard, then announced loudly, “One hundred dollars US.” This was probably the highest number the driver knew in English, given that the maximum fare within the city limits of Cochin at the time was something like 50 cents.

“You take American currency?” I asked.

From my murse (male purse), I took out a George Washington and handed it to him. His eyes got wide. I pointed to the number at the corner of the greenback, “One,” I said. “One hundred cents.” 

Cruel? Perhaps. Satisfying? Somewhat. 

Oh, India is a laugh a minute. I walked into a chandlery and was greeted with a low bow from a clerk with a wide smile who asked, “And where is our esteemed visitor from?”

“America,” I said.

“American No. 1!” the clerk cheered with a grin.

I purchased seven items. While checking out, I noticed eight items on the slip.

“Good eyes, sir, good eyes,” he said as he dramatically crossed out the overcharge.

“And that’s a pint of varnish, not a quart.”

“We use liters. Confusion understandable.”

“And that’s a single generic block, not Harken double.”

“Only one digit off,” he said, smugly.

“You’re trying to cheat me,” I said, my eyes narrowing.

“Cheat!” he screamed. “How dare you! I no cheat esteemed visitors. On the graves of my honorable ancestors, no!”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” I said, getting right into it.

“You insult the honor of India, sir!” 

He tossed the bag and my change at me. I was smug now that the sales slip and the items in my bag matched, so I went away happy—until, a block away, I stopped to count my change. Dammit.

That evening at the Cochin University of Science and Technology, I told my tale of woe at a cocktail party. Expecting commiseration, I was shocked to discover all the listeners grinning.

“Ah,” a professor said pridefully, “an Indian never gives up.”

Of course, none of this compares with Madagascar, where they populated an entire abandoned World War II hospital with invalids to scam me out of $25. After I forked over the cash, they all picked up their crutches and dashed into the bush at Usain Bolt speeds, high-fiving each other as they jumped for joy.

But back to shipyards in the tropics. Monkeys are a real problem. Not only do they wait to get into your boat and make a mess while you’re at lunch, but they also steal your washing soap and eat it, or drink it if it’s dish soap, and then blow rainbow-hued bubbles from the wrong end all day long as you work.

Another common trick is the “­jack-stand shuffle.” One yard changed our poppets every time the workers ­trotted by. It took some real wrestling to bring that yard bill back down to earth.

And then there’s the “110 shocker,” where they not only charge Americans twice what they should for half the voltage, but they also tack on an additional $30 a day for the converter.

Monkeys are a real problem. Not only do they wait to get into your boat and make a mess while you’re at lunch, but they also steal your soap and eat it.

One yard in Polynesia charges a fortune for the small sheets of plastic to protect your topsides from the rough, dirty slings. “Otherwise,” noted the chic, beret-topped travel-lift driver, “your barely dried boot top might end up smeared midtopsides.”

On the plus side, they toss in a croissant each time you pass their “No cash, no splash” signage.

Don’t get me started on scaffolding. Half the fistfights in my life have been over scaffolding planks and rusty, ­teetering 55-gallon drums to balance them on.

And we haven’t even considered the bait-and-switch horrors of having the crew in Sri Lanka charge for Awlgrip but then spray your entire vessel with exterior latex.

But of all the places in the world, our worst haulout was on the Delmarva Peninsula in Maryland, where four extremely interested yard workers watched Carolyn and me take down our mizzen. Their main travel lift was on the blink. The quartet gleefully watched us for four hours, and then shamelessly billed us for an additional 16 hours of yard labor while saying, in appreciation, “Gee, we’ve never seen a couple lower their mizzen via the main halyard before.”

Some days, foreign or domestic, you just can’t win.

The post On Watch: The Headaches of Haulouts appeared first on Cruising World.

I’ve learned during my 35-year marine career that it’s easy to break the ice with boat owners by bringing up one of two subjects: anchor selection or fuel filtration. Here, I’ll discuss the latter.

Diesel engines require only a few elements to start and operate reliably: air, cooling water, compression and clean fuel. 

Air is rarely a problem. Air filters, if they’re present on marine diesels, rarely clog because there’s little dust at sea. Cooling water can be problematic, strainers might clog, and impellers do fail—but all of those are easily serviced. Compression can be controlled, to some degree, by ensuring that valve adjustments occur at scheduled intervals, to check piston-ring condition and wear. 

Fuel cleanliness, on the other hand, is almost entirely within the boat owner’s control, with proper filtration.

Primary Filters

The primary fuel filter—the one that the fuel encounters first as it travels from the tank to the engine—is the most critical line of defense against contamination. 

Fouling can take many forms, from water and the bacteria it supports to asphaltene, which is diesel fuel’s natural “dirt.” Primary fuel filters come in several forms; the one you choose should embody a few key features, including ease of maintenance, a large and see-through bowl, the ability to drain water quickly and easily, and readily available replacement filter elements. 

The filter must be sized to handle the engine’s fuel-flow rate, which is different from fuel consumption. Most diesel engines pump more fuel than they use, returning the excess to the tank, with the return serving as an injector cooling method. However, there’s nothing to prevent you from using a filter with a higher rating. In fact, there are advantages.  

Larger filters can hold more water, and their filter elements can retain more debris before becoming clogged. Equally as important: Larger filters are often easier to service, with a removable top lid, making them more desirable for ­virtually any installation.

Most primary filters let you select the micron rating of the element. Here’s where ­controversy often ensues. 

Engine and filter manufacturers are virtually universal in their guidance that the smallest filter-element rating, usually 2 microns, should be reserved for secondary filtration (the second filter encountered by the fuel as it passes from tank to engine). Primary-filter elements are typically 10 or 30 microns. Some people suggest using a 2-micron primary-filter element, believing that it will catch all fuel-born debris. These people also think that they’ll have to service only the more easily replaced primary filter, leaving the secondary element in reserve.  

In fact, this approach halves the effective filter-element surface area, making clogs more likely. Using the correct approach—a larger-micron element in the primary, and a smaller element in the ^­secondary—lets you segregate contamination by size. While clean 2 and 30 micron elements offer the exact same resistance to fuel flow (virtually none), the 2-micron element will clog faster as the primary filter. 

Primary-filter elements should be replaced when the filter’s vacuum gauge reaches about 5 inches of Hg (­mercury), or annually, ­whichever comes first.

Secondary Filters

Secondary filters are located after the lift pump. They’re nearly always mounted on the engine, are metallic with no plastic or clear-sight bowls, and are typically of the spin-on variety, although some use a sandwich design.  

Secondary filter elements are available from engine manufacturers and aftermarket suppliers. If you opt for the latter, make sure the filter is of the same micron rating as the original version, and of the highest-possible quality.  

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post Fuel Filtration Plays a Crucial Role in Engine Maintenance appeared first on Cruising World.

We’ve been asked recently: What do you do to keep your cruising sailboat clean? What routines do you have for liveaboard boat cleaning? 

On Totem we have two basic principles:

1. Keep the approach simple and effective, because there are a lot of other things we’d prefer to spend our time doing than cleaning the boat. 
2. Prioritize environmentally friendly cleaning products, for reasons that shouldn’t need explaining. 

Cleaning Tools

We have far fewer cleaning tools on the boat than we did in our house—and almost all run on elbow grease instead of electricity.

Vacuum: A rechargeable handheld model like this works for us; other friends swear by their more powerful, compact Dyson model.

Whisk broom and dustpan: These are often easier to grab than the vacuum.

Buckets: There’s always a 5-gallon bucket or two on board, and often a smaller bucket as well. Nesting bowls from the galley can get called into service too.

Scrub brushes: A brush around the size of your hand works for most below-deck needs; we keep a couple of wider brushes for deck scrubbing. A small brush, like a toothbrush or nail brush, is useful for getting into small or awkward spots.

Sponges: For generally cleaning, two all-stars: extra-thirsty sponges, like these big carwash sponges, for soaking after sluicing, and Swedish dishcloths (thin sponges, actually, made from cotton and cellulose), which are great for everyday wiping up, and they’re biodegradable. 

Cotton rags: We use them to wipe, polish and dry. Old T-shirts are great, and so is terry cloth. Avoid using microfiber rags because they add microplastics to the water. 

Great multitool: Use this telescoping handle with interchangeable attachments to be a mop, brush or boat hook.

Notice the dearth of long handles? We’re just not that big of a boat, which translates to doing fine with the smaller stuff and working with the available storage aboard.

Making environmentally friendly choices is harder than it should be because there is no regulation in using terms such as biodegradable, nontoxic or natural. Brands can use any terms to their liking without consequence, and the cleaning industry is full of greenwashing. That’s just one reason we like to lean on cleaning products that are based on simple ingredients we can more readily supply. 

You might like choosing brands that prioritize environmental friendliness versus the DIY cleaner approach for keeping a cruising boat clean. That’s cool! Do your research and try multiple, environmentally safe products when you have access to them; not all brands will be available once you sail away. You might be in a place where environmentally friendly products are available, but this was not the case in most places we’ve sailed. We’ve found that what’s readily available are products from multinational brands thinking about profit, not the planet. 

Basic Cleaning Kit

Here’s a quick list of ingredients that stocks an effective cleaning kit on board. Most are widely available. Another great advantage of this slimmed-down cleaning approach, beyond being liberated from brands and radically reducing packaging? Freeing up precious storage space from the array of products you thought you needed! 

Vinegar: Great for cleaning, disinfecting, deodorizing, deterring mold or mildew…the wonder ingredient for all-purpose cleaning.

Baking soda: Shake it on straight for scrubbing. Like vinegar, it is shockingly multipurpose on board, and like vinegar (which we keep in gallons on board), you can store it in bulk.

Borax: Similar to baking soda but more alkaline, making it a harsher option. I tend to default to using baking soda. In the mixes below, they are nearly interchangeable. Use slightly less borax. Some folks swear by borax for its strength.

Biodegradable liquid soap: There are many options and bulk packaging. Dr. Bronner’s (castile or Sal Suds) is widely recognized, but it falls into that “hard to find once you leave” category. If you can’t find any, swap phosphorus-free liquid dish soap or use borax and water. Note: Don’t mix castile soap in a vinegar or other acidic solution; they counteract each other (makes sense when you think about it: acid versus alkaline), and the mix will not work.

Lime or lemon juice: This top choice for polishing up stainless on deck is readily available just about everywhere, and often inexpensive. As a backup, use citric acid.

Optionally, use essential oils to add a specific result, whether it’s fragrance or antibacterial. If you’re new to using essential oils, make sure it’s one that plays well with your cleaning goals, and with your denizens. We are new cat parents and have learned that many essential oils are unhealthy for pets. More here about essential oils used on Totem.

A note on bleach. We don’t use it for any general cleaning. Toxicity aside, vinegar is a better deterrent and cleaner for mold or mildew. If you do have bleach, never mix it with vinegar because that creates a dangerous gas. 

Mixes and Methods

Keeping it simple, again: These simple all-purpose approaches work above and below deck. 

1. Spray bottle of all-purpose cleaner for simple cleanup: Put 3 tablespoons of Dr. Bronner’s into a 16 oz. bottle, add a tablespoon of baking soda, then fill with water.
2. Spray bottle of diluted vinegar for basic wiping and mildew deterrent. Use a 3-to-1 (or try 2-to-1) ratio; optional addition of essential oils. Basic wipe down or to remove soap film. 
3. A squeeze bottle of scrubbing liquid ready to go for the deck or the counters. Mix 1 2/3 cups baking soda with ½ cup Dr. Bronner’s in a bowl, and dilute with ½ cup water (or more if needed to pour readily). Great deck scrubber.  
4. Abrasive powder in a shaker (repurpose a grated-cheese canister) is simply baking soda and optional essential oil: shake on, then scrub or wipe up bigger messes. Spray on top with that vinegar solution and wipe away.

One of the things that’s flummoxed me is finding a good spray bottle that holds up over time. The ones I’ve tried seem to have a short life span—a couple of years, max. If you have winners, please comment.

Let’s Be Clear About Something

I am not a happy hippie homemaker just stirring up organic cleaners to maintain my spotless spaces with nary a toxic product on the sustainably grown bamboo shelf. LMAO! I’m human, I try my best, and I think that’s what we should all ask of ourselves. OK, if my kids are reading this, they are laughing and saying, “C’mon, Mama, you are a legit hippie!” I am also pragmatic, make imperfect choices, and just try to make better ones when I can.

Meanwhile: not living aboard yet? Great. This is the easiest time for you to start new cleaning habits and to find what works for you. 

Cleaning Products To Avoid

While some are especially an issue where we have runoff into the marine environment, consider that good practices begin on land. Why not start better practices right now?

Dawn detergent: Marketing efforts to the contrary, Dawn is toxic to marine life. Actually, it’s just a really toxic product in general. Read the details behind their failing grade here.

Disposable wipes: Those wipes in a can, whether it’s to disinfect or to wipe your butt, might be convenient. But each one is a piece of single-use plastic. Think they’re OK because it’s all greened-up on a plastic tub from Seventh Generation? Nope. Unilever, parent of Seventh Generation, is definitely more interested in profit than planet. Single-use plastic is a poor choice when there are plenty of alternatives to creating more plastic waste.

Magic Eraser: These sponges are supposed to help get your topsides shiny and bright, but they also shed microplastic in the form of melamine directly into the water.  

Ammonia: Even a tiny bit is toxic to fish. And now you know. Don’t have any on board and you won’t be tempted.

If you’ll BYOB (bring your own brand), remember to look beyond packaging. Here are two “clean” sounding brands repping a toxic product for general cleaning:

• Simple Green. It is not simple or green. It’s a toxic cocktail. Avoid!
• Mrs. Meyers. I know, it looks so wholesome on the label. Well, it’s not wholesome, and has consistent flunking ratings from the environmental working group.

Routines To Get Clean

Aboard Totem, we deep-clean the galley on Wednesdays, the heads on Fridays, and…LOL. I’m yanking your anchor chain: We don’t have any routine. Cleaning aboard is based on need or opportunity. Oh, hey, is that a squall bringing an abundance of fresh water on the horizon? Time to clean.

Is the boat (or a particular cabin) getting dirty? Tackle it when time allows. Do we have access to abundant fresh water? Then it’s a great time to clean. Sometimes that’s exactly what a pending squall means: Time to get out the scrub brushes and use a welcome dump of fresh water.

This is my cue to credit our kids, who were an awesome cleaning crew and generally more fastidious about cleaning up the boat (well, after a certain age anyway) when needed than this particular parent. Team effort helps too: It’s awesome how fast you can scrub down the boat when there are helping hands. Adding a ship’s cat might introduce some kind of “vacuum every X days” routine, but more likely I’ll just see a bunch of cat hair, and that will be the spark to turn on a favorite podcast and get to tidying up.

The post Sailing Totem: What Are the Best Products To Use To Clean Your Boat? appeared first on Cruising World.

In 2011, I began searching for a specific type of ketch. I flew from Florida to Mexico, to Seattle and the British Virgin Islands, all to inspect boats. My budget was around $180,000, but I was unable to find a vessel to my liking—unless it was a project boat that would require a lot of repair and TLC.

I’m far from alone. No matter what the ideal boat is in any sailor’s mind, it’s always a quick descent from the dream back to reality, which usually includes asking yourself whether you should buy a less-expensive ­fixer-upper or a more-expensive (and allegedly) turnkey edition. Experienced boat owners tell first-time buyers to take a hard look at their own skill levels and personal circumstances when trying to decide. Many first-time buyers fail to listen, at which point the descent continues from reality into nightmare. 

Part of the problem, I think, is that a laundry list of factors comes into play when deciding which type of boat to buy. Precious few buyers ever think about them all. You need to consider your aptitude for and attitude toward do-it-yourself projects, your available tools, your age and health, and the age and condition of the vessel—not to mention your expectations and personal circumstances. 

With all of that in mind, here are smart ways to think about the possibilities and ­pitfalls that might confront you, whether you go the fixer-upper or turnkey route.

Major Considerations

If your budget is limited, then a project boat—a neglected vessel that needs a lot of work—might be the best way to acquire a particular model. For a person who is capable of doing the work, the project boat can become a nice boat that is more valuable. 

Be aware that newcomers often look at project boats through rose-colored glasses. They inaccurately assess the costs of a restoration. A good rule is to estimate at least double for costs and time. Those who ignore that rule often end up selling the boat before finishing the repairs. The vessel then transfers to another enthusiastic buyer. (By comparison, a skilled project-boat restorer can flip a boat and even make a profit.) 

Project boats come in all shapes and sizes, and they’re not necessarily older boats. Some models hold their value; some older designs were built stronger than some newer vessels. Sometimes, their owners had financial problems, or became ill or elderly. And, once that owner decided to sell the boat, maintenance probably declined, leading to deterioration. Boats like these can be found in marinas everywhere. They’re like abandoned puppies, begging for a new owner to take care of them. 

The age of a boat, along with the age of the buyer, can also matter. A younger buyer might have plenty of time to restore a project boat, while an older person might opt for a ready-to-go boat that can be enjoyed immediately. In some cases, older buyers who are retired have more time to work on boat projects. The project-boat option can be particularly appealing if the boat can be used during the restoration so that some pleasure can be had as work progresses.

A warning: A project boat can become a white elephant if the cost of restoration ends up exceeding the cost of a ­ready-to-go boat. 

On the other side of the coin, a ready-to-go boat might be ideal for a buyer with the right budget and a desire to get out on the water immediately. A ready-to-go boat is also smart for a buyer who lacks the skills and/or time for repairs. It’s true that a ready-to-go boat will likely have faults, but it’s usually to a lesser degree than with a project boat. 

And then, there are your personal circumstances. Spouses want input. They notice big expenditures. A single person might not have any constraints, but a married buyer with children could have many—and should ­probably consider a ­ready-to-go boat that the family can enjoy straightaway, even if it ­stretches the initial budget.

An inspection by a ­professional marine surveyor is a sound investment for any buyer of a used boat, and is normally required for insurance purposes anyway. A good surveyor can estimate the cost of restoration—either DIY or at a boatyard—and can help a buyer learn more about the boat’s true condition. After receiving the survey, you can honestly assess your abilities and limitations in terms of time and finances. And remember: Surveyors are far from infallible. There will probably be things they miss too.

Elbow Grease

First-time boat buyers ­often overestimate their DIY abilities. For a project boat, the necessary skills might include ­repairing or replacing complicated electrical equipment, plumbing, carpentry, hydraulics, sails and lines, and the ­many branches of these ­top-level skills. Sure, you can learn from books and the ­internet, but even with the knowledge of how to do something, you need skill to actually do it.

Especially taxing on an old project boat can be electrical repairs because there might not be any wiring diagrams, and the wires will likely be brittle, with insulation cracked or chafed. The complete wiring system might need replacing, a task that is tedious and expensive. Even an experienced person sometimes has to call in a specialist, especially if certain instruments or gauges are needed, such as in air-conditioning-systems diagnosis. And it can be hard to know where to buy materials at the right price for some projects.

Repairs also typically require lots of tools, especially for carpentry work. I recently repaired a damaged toe rail on my schooner. The job required shaping and splicing in a 6-foot-long teak plank that was 7 inches wide and an inch thick. I needed a bench circular saw, an electric hand sander, a bench sander, a jig saw, an oscillating sander, a bench, a hand router, a power planer, a power drill, four clamps and four chisels, not to mention numerous screws, glues, caulk and varnish. If you must buy or rent some or all of these tools, your costs will go up. Fast.  

Forging Ahead

In my own boat search, I got a professional survey and bought a project boat for less than a quarter of my budget. As I began working on the boat, I discovered things that even the surveyor had overlooked. For the first two years, most of my time was spent repairing or replacing broken items.

I’ve messed about with boats for more than 50 years, and I have above-average restoration skills, along with lots of tools. I was also newly retired at the time, so I could work on the boat using leftover funds from my budget. And I have a wife who enjoys sailing and varnishing. I was an ideal ­candidate to buy a project boat.

Some of the alterations I made could stymie many a boat buyer. I changed the rig to a schooner by moving the masts and standing rigging. I installed a square sail on the foremast, then converted all the sails to roller furling, operated from the safety of the cockpit. All three staterooms were remodeled, and a full-size bath was installed in the owner’s head. The galley was modernized to include a deep freezer, a washer/dryer and a microwave. I installed two electric toilets with waste-treatment systems. I ­fitted two air-conditioning units, and upgraded all the plumbing and instrumentation. These alterations, along with many more innovations, are detailed on Britannia’s website, schooner-britannia.com.

The cost over the years has been nearly $100,000, but even after adding that to the initial purchase price, I’ve still paid less than my original budget. And I have a boat exactly to my liking.

Of course, my labor has been free, but I’ve mainly enjoyed the project, along with ­extensively sailing the boat along the way. I suppose you could say that a buyer like me can also factor in the cost of the enjoyment. 

Hailing from New Bern, North Carolina, Roger Hughes has been a professional captain, charterer, restorer, sailing instructor and imbiber. He recently completed a full restoration and extensive modification of a well-aged 50-foot ketch. Read more at schooner-britannia.com.

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Not long ago, I saw a boater write online: “My vessel has no bonding system, and everything seems to be fine. Do I need one?”  

It’s a great question. Like so many things electrical, you can’t actually see what’s happening—or not happening—with a bonding system, making it tempting to draw conclusions that are often incorrect.

Let’s begin with terminology. The words “bonding” and “grounding” are often used interchangeably. For the purposes of this column, we’ll look at bonding systems specifically.  

Cathodic protection refers to the utilization of a system that relies on a sacrificial metal, the anode, to protect underwater metals, or cathodes.

Anode refers to a sacrificial metal, often zinc, although it can be aluminum or ­magnesium. Zinc is suited for ­seawater applications; aluminum is appropriate for ­seawater, brackish water or fresh water; and magnesium can be used only in fresh water.  

The primary goal of a bonding system is to electrically connect disparate, submerged metals, usually via wire (American Boat and Yacht Council standards call for a minimum of 8-gauge tinned cable). An anode is then connected to the bonding system, providing cathodic protection to those same interconnected metals. As long as the anode is maintained, and the resistance between the anode and any connected metal is kept below 1 ohm, then galvanic (­dissimilar metal) corrosion can be avoided. 

While galvanic corrosion is a slow process, occurring over months or years, stray-current corrosion can lay waste to underwater metals in a matter of days. In severe cases, it can lead to flooding and sinking.  

Stray-current corrosion occurs when DC battery current leaks into bilge water or the water around the vessel, usually via a damaged wire or other exposed connection in the bilge. While it’s not guaranteed, a bonding system can help stem the effects of stray-current corrosion. It provides a more direct, ­lower-­resistance path back to the source—the vessel’s battery
—rather than through the water. With that low-resistance return path, the likelihood increases of a fuse blowing or circuit breaker tripping. That’s good because it stops the harmful current flow.  

When current flows through water, some metal will almost surely come to grief. In their benevolent form, sacrificial anodes are consumed via the cathodic-protection process. These anodes should be replaced when they are no more than 50 percent depleted. Through-hulls, struts and other underwater metals may fall victim to stray-current corrosion. (Anodes, by the way, can stave off only galvanic corrosion; they are no match for stray-current corrosion, which will consume them in short order.)

Bonding systems protect submerged metals, seacocks, shaft logs, rudders and the like. Other metal objects inside the vessel, including the engine and generator, even if bonded, will be afforded no protection from corrosion because they are not immersed in the same body of water as the hull anode. (Engines should be bonded only if they utilize isolated ground starters and alternators.) In order for cathodic protection to work, the protected metal and the anode must reside in the same water, and the interconnection between them must be of very low resistance. Engines and generators must rely on either their own anodes or, in some cases, alloys that manufacturers believe do not require cathodic protection.  

Shafts and props—because they are often only tenuously connected to the bonding system via the marine gear, which is oil-filled—cannot rely on hull-mounted anodes for cathodic protection. They must utilize their own anodes. The average, inexpensive shaft brush is incapable of meeting the 1-ohm resistance standard. 

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

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“Nighty-night. Hope the bugs don’t bite.” 

My parents used this rhyme to tuck me into bed each night. I used it with my own children. It is particularly pertinent on a boat, because there’s nothing more annoying than a mosquito buzzing around in a dark cabin, and the moment you switch on a light in the hope of squashing it, it vanishes into some small cranny—until you switch off the light again. It’s also not really ideal to spray a small cabin with insect repellent because you might be the one who gets repelled. 

The answer is to have bug screens covering all openings, particularly portlights and hatches, which you might want to open all night for ventilation. 

Most portlight manufacturers make mesh screens that fit their portholes. On my 50-foot schooner, Britannia, we also have custom-made hatch screens that clip into place under the hatches. One fits completely around the main companionway doors, but it makes it awkward to get in and out, so we don’t use that very often.

Portlight screens need to be outside the hinged window glass and within the frame of the port so that when the window opens inward, they remain in place. As a consequence, they are subject to rain, sea spray and ultraviolet light, even when the port is closed. The thin mesh screens slowly deteriorate. 

Nearly all of the 12 opening-port screens on Britannia had arrived at this deterioration stage, with some actually torn and needing replacement. 

My portlights were made by Beckson, in Connecticut, with the newer-type overcenter cams to lock the port. The fine mesh screen is glued on one side of an oval frame that fits into a groove in the gasket, forming the seal between the port body and the hinged window. Beckson sells replacement screens for $32.90 each, but with 12 to restore, I decided to look into repairing them myself.

I bought an 8-by-4-foot roll of fine mesh bug screen (used for repairing swimming pool enclosures) from my local hardware store, along with some contact glue and a quarter-inch art brush.

To remove the screen frame, it was first necessary to pull the sealing gasket completely out of its groove in the body of the port. Everything ­needed cleaning in soapy water anyway, so while I repaired the screens, my wife cleaned the hinged windows. We soon had ports looking like new. (It’s best to undertake this project on a day when no rain is forecast because once the sealing gasket is removed from the body, the window is no longer waterproof, even if it’s locked.)

Using an X-Acto craft knife with a new, sharp blade, it was a simple matter to trim the old mesh out from the frame. Then, I brushed a thin bead of contact glue all around the rim of the frame and placed it glue-side down on top of my mesh, pressing them firmly together. (It would have been a good idea to first place a sheet of grease-proof paper under the mesh so that any excess glue would not stick to the table, requiring xylene-based solvent to remove it.)

After a few minutes, I cut loosely around the outside of the frame with scissors, and then moved on to the next screen. Replacing all 12 screens in this way took me just one hour. I then left them all overnight so that the glue could thoroughly dry. 

After that, it was a simple matter of trimming the outside mesh flush with the frame, and I had nice new screens for all my ports. 

A squirt of washing-up liquid helped to ease the new screens into the grooves in the gaskets, and press the gaskets back into the groove in the portlight. I could tell if the gasket was back in place properly because the window would close like before. 

We now know that no bugs can come in through the open ports. If we also fit the hatch screens and keep the cabin door shut, it is a fair bet that the cabin will be completely free of any nasty flying bugs. Ahh, sweet dreams. 

The screens cost $32.90 each from Beckson, plus shipping and tax; that would be a total of about $450 for 12 ports. My screen material cost only $10. A quart tin of contact glue cost $7, and the art brush was $2. Total cost: $19. It’s a no-brainer for a couple of hours’ work. 

Hailing from New Bern, North Carolina, Roger Hughes has been messing about on boats for half a century as a professional captain, charterer, restorer, sailing instructor and happy imbiber. He recently completed a full restoration and extensive modification of a well-aged 50-foot ketch. Read more of his work at ­schooner-britannia.com.

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After spending back-to-back intervals of a couple of years with us living aboard between haulouts, the white hull of our 1978 Sabre 34 began to look a bit worse for wear. Oxidation on the gelcoat gave the boat a drab finish and, to make matters worse, try as we might to keep after it with scratch pads and detergents, a dull yellowish-­orange stain clung to the area just above and below the boot stripe. 

In the winters, we kept the boat at a marina in Newport, Rhode Island, where we had ready access to fresh water and electricity, but come spring, work and weather often conspired to keep exterior maintenance to a minimum. Sure, we made feeble attempts to wash, wax, and use an electric buffer to polish up the hull, but working from the dock or from an inflatable just didn’t seem to set things right. And then, soon as you knew it, mid-May arrived, and we had to be off the dock and out on a mooring for the summer. It’s tough to run an electric buffer at a mooring. 

In the end, we decided that we had two choices if we ­wanted our boat to look shipshape again: Paint the topsides or do a proper haulout to restore luster to the gelcoat.

In recent years, a number of good coatings have made a do-it-yourself paint job a realistic option. A dock-­neighbor couple took this route, and after a short spell on the hard that included rolling and tipping with a good-quality paint, their boat reappeared with a mirrorlike finish. It was gorgeous.

As good as it looked, though—and as persistent as my wife was that we should do the same with our boat—I was determined to give the original gelcoat one more chance. Once you paint, I reasoned, you’re committed to paint forever. And even the best paint ages. Aside from that, it’s susceptible to scratches and chafe from lines and fenders, and it can be hard to blend in repairs if they’re required. Gelcoat, on the other hand, is rugged stuff, and white is an easy color to match if the finish gets scratched or dinged. 

So, in the end, I decided to go the elbow-grease route and see where it would get us.

Let the Fun Commence

The following spring, once we were on a mooring we’d rented from a boatyard on the other side of Narragansett Bay, I waited for their parking lot where boats were stored to clear out so that we could haul out and spend a few days in an out-of-the-way corner. In the meantime, I began to amass supplies so that we could get to work as soon as the Sabre was secure on jack stands.

The first order of business was to decide how to proceed and just how deep to jump into the project. Gelcoat, after all, is a relatively thin layer of resin that is sprayed into a boat’s mold at the start of the layup process. The trick to restoring its luster is to scour it enough so that it’s clean and shiny, but not use excessive abrasives that will wear it out. 

In the past, we’d tried hand-polishing the hull with several one-step products that combine a mild abrasive with wax. They worked OK in places, but I couldn’t say that the hull shone when we finished.

On the other hand, the oxidation wasn’t so severe that you came away with white dust every time you touched the hull. Had that been the case, we may well have wanted to resort to wet sanding, starting with, say, 300-grit paper, then working up to maybe 800- or 1,000-grit (or higher) sheets before compounding and polishing.

Instead, I chose a more modest approach with 3M’s Marine Compound and Finishing Material, thinking if that didn’t work, I could always go back and try a stronger cutting compound. To apply the material, and later wax and buff the hull, I bought a variable-speed electric polisher and a variety of foam and wool polishing pads.

Once the boat was out of the water, pressure-washed and set on jack stands, I set up staging using a plank set on the rungs of a folding ladder, as well as a stepladder that was tall enough to reach the deck. 

The first step was to wash the topsides from stem to stern using a scrub brush, sponge, and bucket of water and boat soap. This soap is designed to release dirt and oil and to wash off without leaving a residue—and it’s kind to the environment. I took my time and worked in sections, scrubbing and then rinsing the hull with a small electric pressure washer.

Next, I attacked the remaining stains near the waterline with Star brite Instant Hull Cleaner. I love the stuff. It’s a mild acid that you can apply with a sponge (be sure to wear rubber gloves). Wait a few minutes, hit it with fresh water from the hose, and presto, the hull is clean.

For rust stains around the fasteners of our stern ladder, and on any persistent blotches elsewhere, I used a paintbrush to apply a coat of MaryKate On & Off Hull Cleaner. It’s a stronger acidic solution; you definitely want to be careful with the stuff and not get it on your skin. But it works great, and again, all you need to do is use a hose to wash it off.

Polish Makes Perfect

Once the hull was clean, I was ready to go to work with the variable-speed polisher and rubbing compound. As much as possible, I tried to work in the shade, partly to escape the early-summer heat, but also to keep the compounding material from drying out too quickly. 

I set the staging so that I could hold the polisher somewhere between chest and head high, and planned to work in small sections at a time. I kept a spray bottle with water handy and occasionally lightly misted the area to extend working time. I would run the polisher at as high a speed as felt comfortable, moving it from side to side and up and down to avoid swirling or, worse, burning through the gelcoat. Whenever the polisher was running, I made sure that I had on a respirator to avoid breathing in the abrasive dust. 

I experimented a bit, ­applying the rubbing compound by squirting it in small amounts from the bottle and dabbing it on with a sponge. I’m not sure if I ever decided which was the more efficient technique. As I worked each area, I kept the polisher going until I could see the hull shine and any hazing disappear.

I quickly learned to take care and slow down the polisher near obstacles. The machine has a lot of torque and can suddenly reveal a sinister mind of its own if your attention wanders.  

Frequent repositioning of the staging was necessary, and I needed to adjust the height of the plank as I went if I wanted to avoid holding the polisher overhead. It’s a relatively light tool, but it felt heavier and heavier as the hours passed. One trick I found helpful was to position the folding ladder ahead of me so that I could slide the plank onto its two rungs and drag them forward together before repositioning the stepladder. It was a relatively slow process, measured in feet per hour, making me glad I had a 34-footer and not a 50-foot yacht.

In the end, it took about a day to cover each side of the boat, and a few hours more to spruce up the transom.

Well-Waxed

Before applying wax, I took time to walk around the boat and look for any remaining smudged spots. Using just the ­stepladder, I went over any area that still looked hazy with a little more compound and the foam pad and polisher. Then it was time to begin the final step of applying a coat of Meguiar’s Marine Paste Wax. 

For the record, I did not pick the wax for any particular reason other than I had a sample can of it on hand. I believe when it comes to picking a wax, the “to each his own” rule applies. The best advice I could find online was to pick a marine wax, one that’s designed to seal and protect the gelcoat. 

Once again, I set up my makeshift staging to hold the electric polisher about chest high. To begin, I used a wax ­applicator pad to apply the paste wax, rubbing it on in a circular motion. After applying a few feet’s worth of wax, I went back to where I ­started, and once the wax had dried, I grabbed the variable-­speed ­polisher, now equipped with a wool polishing pad. It buffed the surface to a smooth shine. 

Just like compounding, it was ­slow-going. For yuks, I tried using a random orbital buffer I’d brought along for backup. I can’t truly say which was the better tool; they both felt pretty heavy by day’s end.

But the work was well worth it. On the last night in the yard (yes, we were staying aboard the boat on the hard, my wife working on her own set of haulout chores on deck and down below), we stood by the boat as dusk settled in, sipping cocktails to celebrate the tasks we’d completed. In the glow of the streetlight, the buffed-out hull shone. 

Better yet, early the next evening, with the sailboat back on its mooring, we took an inflatable ride as the sun sank low. Returning to the boat, we couldn’t help but notice the reflection of the waves dancing along the hull. The way a sailboat should look. 

Mark Pillsbury, Boat of the Year judge and CW editor-at-large, is a die-hard sailor who has owned a number of sailboats, including a Sabre 34, on which he lived for 15 years.

The post Polishing the Gel Coat Is a Good Alternative to Painting the Topsides appeared first on Cruising World.

Hoses are like arteries and veins for your vessel. You can’t live without them, and the healthier they are, the better. They convey everything from seawater and exhaust gases to fuel, effluent and potable water.  

While virtually all hoses are critical, some are more important than others. If a blackwater hose fails, it can be inconvenient and unpleasant, and it might force you to head to a yard for assistance. But if a hose fails below the waterline and involves raw water or fuel, that can be catastrophic.

While it might sound obvious, not all hose is created equal. Few hoses can do double duty. Most are specifically designed for one or, at most, two tasks.

I frequently encounter unsuitable hose being used in below-the-waterline raw-water applications. Because a failure can lead to flooding, this hose must be especially robust and purpose-made for the application. When a question arises about the type of hose that should be used, I often say, “Let’s see what the hose manufacturer says about the product, and be sure to let them know that a failure could lead to the loss of the vessel.” That often ends the discussion.

With few exceptions, most clear PVC hose, even when it’s reinforced, isn’t suited to raw-water use, especially below the waterline. And “below the waterline” has a specific definition where the American Boat & Yacht Council Standards are concerned: It includes any part of a sailing vessel’s hull that is submerged when the vessel heels to the toe rail.  

If hose is labeled SAE J2006, then it’s designated for use as a wet exhaust hose, and thus suited for all raw-water applications above or below the waterline. While that rating isn’t mandatory, there are hoses designed for raw-water use that aren’t designed for exhaust applications. If the rating is present, you can rest assured that the hose is robust.

There are several different types of fuel hose, including A1 and A2, and B1 and B2, with some variations. Ideally, and for ABYC compliance, all hose used aboard inboard-powered vessels should have an A rating, which means it is capable of withstanding two and a half minutes of exposure to flame without failing. The “1” suffix denotes that it is designed for fuel supply, and the “2” suffix means fuel fill. Type B hoses should be used only for outboard motors. Ordinary automotive fuel hose should not be used, especially in engine compartments.  

Hose, tubing and all plumbing used for potable-water applications should be specifically designed for that application. Where hose is concerned, it must carry a designation for drinking water. These might be written as NSF 61, FDA-approved or potable water. And most hose carries a maximum-temperature rating. Most water heaters will provide water that is no more than about 125 degrees Fahrenheit, however, it might be significantly hotter if water is being heated by the engine. Make sure the hose is rated for the anticipated temperature.

If your engine is plumbed to your water heater, as almost all are, then it must be equipped with a tempering valve, a device that I’ll discuss next month.  Metallic plumbing components, particularly those made from brass or bronze, should be lead-free and thus safe for potable water.  

If a hose has no markings, then it should not be used in a potable-water, fuel or raw-water application. 

Steve D’Antonio holds four American Boat and Yacht Council certifications, including Corrosion, Diesel Engine, Electrical and Systems categories, affording him ABYC Master Technician status. He offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

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Most propulsion engines (and gensets) on sailboats are located at or below the waterline, making them ripe for seawater flooding, which can occur for one of three reasons. First, the engine is not installed in accordance with the manufacturer’s instructions. This can allow a siphon to develop, fill the exhaust, and then flood the engine’s cylinders. When the engine is idle, a bad installation also can push in water through the exhaust discharge in a following sea, and from there through open exhaust valves and into the cylinders. Second, an anti-siphon valve malfunctions. Or third, the engine is cranked excessively while bleeding the fuel system. With each revolution, the raw-water pump moves a small amount of seawater into the exhaust system, which eventually overflows back into the engine and through an open exhaust valve.

If your engine floods with seawater, do not operate it again until you have identified and remedied the source. For an engine equipped with a turbocharger and aftercooler, the latter might fill with seawater as well. It would also need to be drained of water, flushed and cleaned. If flooding has occurred within the past 24 hours, then follow these steps. First, open or turn off the start battery switch, and second, turn off the fuel supply. Next, put on safety glasses. Remove the injectors or glow plugs, if you have them in your setup, and then cover the exposed holes with rags and remain clear of them. You can then turn over the engine manually, a task often called barring, by engaging a socket wrench with the alternator pulley. You might need to press down on the slack side of the belt to keep it from slipping. Slowly make at least two full revolutions. If you feel any resistance, stop, because a valve might be seized. If the engine turns freely, you can then crank the engine using the starter for five to 10 seconds, then reinstall the injectors or glow plugs. 

That brings us to step eight: Drain the oil, and replace it and the filter. Remove the valve-cover oil-fill cap to let water vapor escape more easily. Start the engine and allow it to run for about five minutes. Then, drain and replace the oil and filter again. The oil might be milky in appearance if water leaked past the piston rings and into the crankcase. Once that’s done, start the engine and let it idle with no load for five minutes. After two no-load runs and oil changes, carry out an additional oil change, and run the engine under moderate load, now with the valve-cover cap in place, ideally achieving an oil temperature of 200 degrees Fahrenheit, or as close to that as possible. Last, carry out one final oil change. At this point, the oil should not have a milky appearance. Run the engine normally thereafter, and check the oil frequently for any signs of moisture.

If the engine has been flooded with water for more than 24 hours, corrosion may have already begun to set in within the cylinders. In that case, repeat steps one through four from above. Then, remove the valve cover and inspect for visible damage to the valve train. Next, pour a generous quantity of kerosene, light motor oil or automatic transmission fluid over the valve train. Using a light plastic-head hammer, tap each rocker arm over the valve, and watch to see whether the valves and rocker arms move freely. If any rocker arms or valves seem sticky or don’t move immediately when tapped, there is a possibility of valve, valve train and piston damage if the starter is ­engaged. At this point, a ­decision must be made ­whether to remove the cylinder head. If all valves and rockers move freely, and if the engine turns freely when it’s barred over, then disable the run function by holding the stop button or equivalent to prevent the engine from starting. Turn on the battery switch, and spray fogging oil into the air intake (remove the air filter if it’s present) while cranking the engine with the starter for 30 seconds. After that, you can continue from step eight. If this scenario is caught early, in most cases it can be resolved with no permanent damage. 

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

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