Retired from newspapers and television, currently sailing Thelonious II, a 1984 Ericson 381.
The cabin sole, or floor, of any Ericson has a long story to tell. Walked on, spilled on, dropped on all it's life, some of which may been spent briefly underwater. The term seems to derive from Old French sole; and Latin solea "sandal, bottom of a shoe; a flatfish"; and from solum "bottom, ground, foundation, lowest point of a thing" ("sole of the foot"). In English it dates from late 14c.
Whatever you call it, the cabin sole of Thelonious II, a 1984 E381, did look about 700 years old. But that also suggested character or at least endurance, and although beat up, the teak and holly veneer was intact. Yes, there were dents, but no holes or gouges. Outside the head and shower, however, a hidden plumbing leak had left the wood suspiciously soft. That required attention, and my video about repair of delaminated floorboards is here.
Naturally, I figured to replace the whole floor as the last step in the messy rehab of the yacht interior. But when that day came I had a second look and second thoughts. Man, this model has a complicated sole. The factory used 5/8ths plywood under the veneer, secured into the TAGF with big #12 stainless screws. Then the entire perimeter was trimmed with teak strips, separately screwed and also plugged. The floor was designed never to be removed (of which more later). Several pieces would not fit through the companionway hatch, and would have to be redesigned. All things considered, the existing sole looked more and more like a keeper.
It's color was somewhat odd, with a faint suggestion of old orangy Cetol, which is not a personal favorite. And it had been coated at some point, quite effectively, with what looked to be epoxy.
In working on the delaminated sections at home in my garage I had been surprised to see how well the surface took Interlux Schooner varnish. After a careful orbital sanding with 220-grit, then a scuff with 320-grit, three coats restored a fairly deep gloss. The finished sections, once installed, gave me a place to stand for the rest of the sole--a corner of the work area I had already painted myself into.
The veneer on these boats is only 1/16" thick and given the wear of many years can't take much sanding. I like high gloss underfoot, it wears well and provides surprisingly good traction. But the rest of the interior--the places hands or feet don't touch--is satin varnish. A perimeter taping kept the two surfaces apart. It's churlish to complain about previous owners, since we will all be one eventually, so let me just mutter aloud that varnishing is a job best done with patience and attention to detail. There's a lot of varnish on this model, which the owner before me had maintained himself. I use a badger brush, he apparently used a herring. The resultant wrinkled, overbuilt areas are called "alligators," I suppose because they look like the dorsal of a reptile. I learned from the shipwright Louis Sauzedde how to clean up such effects by vertical scraping. He uses a plane blade, but a razor blade is effective too.
The issue of sanding dust is a big one when working below. I brought a shop fan aboard for the process--the whirlwind of air helps blow particles out the hatches before it settles into tiny recesses everywhere. I vacuumed often, and always wore my half-face respirator mask with P100 cartridges. Such a mask also removes the smell of vapors from varnishing, bathing in acetone, swimming in CPES or snorting the formaldehyde snuff of plywood sawdust. I do miss being stoned for days after working on a boat, but living the straight life now I can smell again.
The ladder is always fun to fix up. The nonskid tape comes up easily with a bit of heat. My treads were pretty worn, so I stripped them with a heat gun and putty knife--which is the only way to do it, easy and fast. For varnishing, just cover the routered inlay slots with one-inch painter's tape. When finished, new adhesive-backed nonskid goes on in a flash. Renewing the ladder is an easy job which spruces up any cabin.
After three coats of Schooner the sole looked good. Yes, still original, but shiny again for a while, and to my mind in keeping with the rest of the boat. I have become a firm believer in four-inch paint rollers for the application of varnish over any surface larger than trim. The problem with high-gloss varnish is that any void or "holiday" is hard to notice while applying, but stupefyingly obvious once finished. And holidays can't be repaired except by redoing whole sections, since no wet edge remains. A roller allows spreading the varnish even, with much cross-rolling. It eliminates pools and thin spots. Follow up immediately every few square feet with tipping by good brush. Clean the vacuumed surface with Interlux 333 just before (or maybe diesel fuel), and thin the varnish with the same 333 to slow the drying.
Despite my best efforts there was one tiny but obvious void in the final coat. That repair reduced the overall grade to A-minus.
Regarding the factory sole: it's a mistake to make a cabin floor that can't be easily removed, especially over the many sections of the Tri-Axial Force Grid (TAFG) that is the backbone of this Ericson production run. I guess it was a selling point to have every screw head in the trim plugged. At least on this model the sole wasn't glued down, requiring destruction to remove.
I think there is an easy solution for any of us who replace the entire floor, and which I applied to the forward sections in the video above. That is, to secure the sole through the trim pieces, eliminating the separate courses of fasteners. And to use big bronze wood screws, countersunk flush and left unplugged. Bronze is a lovely material to look at, quite in keeping with the teak interior, and not as hysterically colorful as brass.
The many trim pieces, originally made to accept 3/8th plugs, can be saved by filling the plug-holes with thickened epoxy, then redrilling for countersink.
That's the way I redid the forward sole sections, and the bronze heads look fine to my eye. I don't see why the sections need separate screws, and this way the floor can be pretty easily removed for inspection, refinishing, or to evacuate suspected water from the TAFG compartments.
This sole is 32 years old. I may change it some day, but hats off to any surface that endures and survives that long, and was made with such elegant carpentry and attention to detail.
Whatever you call it, the cabin sole of Thelonious II, a 1984 E381, did look about 700 years old. But that also suggested character or at least endurance, and although beat up, the teak and holly veneer was intact. Yes, there were dents, but no holes or gouges. Outside the head and shower, however, a hidden plumbing leak had left the wood suspiciously soft. That required attention, and my video about repair of delaminated floorboards is here.
Naturally, I figured to replace the whole floor as the last step in the messy rehab of the yacht interior. But when that day came I had a second look and second thoughts. Man, this model has a complicated sole. The factory used 5/8ths plywood under the veneer, secured into the TAGF with big #12 stainless screws. Then the entire perimeter was trimmed with teak strips, separately screwed and also plugged. The floor was designed never to be removed (of which more later). Several pieces would not fit through the companionway hatch, and would have to be redesigned. All things considered, the existing sole looked more and more like a keeper.
It's color was somewhat odd, with a faint suggestion of old orangy Cetol, which is not a personal favorite. And it had been coated at some point, quite effectively, with what looked to be epoxy.
In working on the delaminated sections at home in my garage I had been surprised to see how well the surface took Interlux Schooner varnish. After a careful orbital sanding with 220-grit, then a scuff with 320-grit, three coats restored a fairly deep gloss. The finished sections, once installed, gave me a place to stand for the rest of the sole--a corner of the work area I had already painted myself into.
The veneer on these boats is only 1/16" thick and given the wear of many years can't take much sanding. I like high gloss underfoot, it wears well and provides surprisingly good traction. But the rest of the interior--the places hands or feet don't touch--is satin varnish. A perimeter taping kept the two surfaces apart. It's churlish to complain about previous owners, since we will all be one eventually, so let me just mutter aloud that varnishing is a job best done with patience and attention to detail. There's a lot of varnish on this model, which the owner before me had maintained himself. I use a badger brush, he apparently used a herring. The resultant wrinkled, overbuilt areas are called "alligators," I suppose because they look like the dorsal of a reptile. I learned from the shipwright Louis Sauzedde how to clean up such effects by vertical scraping. He uses a plane blade, but a razor blade is effective too.
The issue of sanding dust is a big one when working below. I brought a shop fan aboard for the process--the whirlwind of air helps blow particles out the hatches before it settles into tiny recesses everywhere. I vacuumed often, and always wore my half-face respirator mask with P100 cartridges. Such a mask also removes the smell of vapors from varnishing, bathing in acetone, swimming in CPES or snorting the formaldehyde snuff of plywood sawdust. I do miss being stoned for days after working on a boat, but living the straight life now I can smell again.
The ladder is always fun to fix up. The nonskid tape comes up easily with a bit of heat. My treads were pretty worn, so I stripped them with a heat gun and putty knife--which is the only way to do it, easy and fast. For varnishing, just cover the routered inlay slots with one-inch painter's tape. When finished, new adhesive-backed nonskid goes on in a flash. Renewing the ladder is an easy job which spruces up any cabin.
After three coats of Schooner the sole looked good. Yes, still original, but shiny again for a while, and to my mind in keeping with the rest of the boat. I have become a firm believer in four-inch paint rollers for the application of varnish over any surface larger than trim. The problem with high-gloss varnish is that any void or "holiday" is hard to notice while applying, but stupefyingly obvious once finished. And holidays can't be repaired except by redoing whole sections, since no wet edge remains. A roller allows spreading the varnish even, with much cross-rolling. It eliminates pools and thin spots. Follow up immediately every few square feet with tipping by good brush. Clean the vacuumed surface with Interlux 333 just before (or maybe diesel fuel), and thin the varnish with the same 333 to slow the drying.
Despite my best efforts there was one tiny but obvious void in the final coat. That repair reduced the overall grade to A-minus.
Regarding the factory sole: it's a mistake to make a cabin floor that can't be easily removed, especially over the many sections of the Tri-Axial Force Grid (TAFG) that is the backbone of this Ericson production run. I guess it was a selling point to have every screw head in the trim plugged. At least on this model the sole wasn't glued down, requiring destruction to remove.
I think there is an easy solution for any of us who replace the entire floor, and which I applied to the forward sections in the video above. That is, to secure the sole through the trim pieces, eliminating the separate courses of fasteners. And to use big bronze wood screws, countersunk flush and left unplugged. Bronze is a lovely material to look at, quite in keeping with the teak interior, and not as hysterically colorful as brass.
The many trim pieces, originally made to accept 3/8th plugs, can be saved by filling the plug-holes with thickened epoxy, then redrilling for countersink.
That's the way I redid the forward sole sections, and the bronze heads look fine to my eye. I don't see why the sections need separate screws, and this way the floor can be pretty easily removed for inspection, refinishing, or to evacuate suspected water from the TAFG compartments.
This sole is 32 years old. I may change it some day, but hats off to any surface that endures and survives that long, and was made with such elegant carpentry and attention to detail.
