Retired from newspapers and television, currently sailing Thelonious II, a 1984 Ericson 381.
Some things you never get used to, and of course we all never get used to different things. For me, it was three- or (arghh) four-piece hatch boards.
I know it's tradition. Yes, they're sort of easier to store. OK, they permit ventilation schemes by leaving one or more out. And in varnished teak, which is what Ericson chose for my model, they look good. But mine only looked good. Each board was made in three pieces, apparently to use up short lengths of scrap in the woodshop. I dropped one and it broke at the joint. It had been reglued, I noticed. I then remembered the role of hatch boards when a thousand pounds of sea water breaks against them--which is never to yield. Lemmeoutahere.
Such disaster is unlikely whilst lifting a martini in my smoking jacket, so my real complaint is ergonomic. The blasted things require separate motions to put in and take out. They require alignment of rabbets and angles. They slide all over the place when placed at rest. They store as a small package, but where to put them is a good question if they're to be handy for the occasional rain squall (if no dodger). And anywhere you put them, and anyhow you handle them, and for any use of them other than repurposing as cricket bats or cutting boards, they require both hands to deal with at all times.
Also: 9 percent of the time I leave my car keys locked below in the boat and have to walk back from the car to get them, attempting to remain calm and find somebody else to blame. Each hatch board, re-removed and then re-replaced, is like an accusation. Self-criticism may be a Thought of Mao, but I don't need it from hatch boards. They can rot forever in whatever hell awaits smirking inanimate objects.
Do I feel better now?
Yes, because I have a new one-piece hatch board out of half-inch acrylic. It's my third iteration. The first was solid plywood, which worked fine. But I felt I needed a window to look out of, so the second one-piece hatch board had a piece of plexiglass. This one is all window, by golly. You can see out, but not in. A local plastics shop made it out of the same grey #2064 acrylic as the new hatch lenses, $100 total.
The ergonomics are much improved. At the moment, I'm just using the clasp to lift the board in and out. I may add a canted handle. The idea is to be able to pick the board up with one hand and align it for insertion or removal without ever having to put it down. Oh, and if you're wondering, half-inch plastic is lighter than 3/4" teak.
True, the single board must be stored, which might be a disqualification on some boats. But Ericson companionways are relatively small, and this one fits easily into the starboard cockpit lazarette.
I made a canvas bag to hang vertically there. It takes up no space. The plastic slides in and out without restriction. For access to the stuffing box, transmission, steering and rudder post, the bag just folds up and out of the way.
There aren't many projects that cost a hundred bucks and catch our old boats up to contemporary yacht design, which in the case of a plastic hatch board I see as an advance and not in the same category as a bidet, sauna or helicopter pad.
More Line Bags
Line bags not only keep line flaked and out from underfoot, but help keep the long tails from accumulating dirt, swelling and bleaching away at $1.50 a foot.
The shape and size of the basic bags on the cabin house (photo 1) turned out quite big enough, although when making them I wondered how much line they'd actually hold. They're a variant of the Sailrite DIY video. I dispensed with the elastic in favor of a thicker top hem. They definitely must be screwed into the bulkhead--snaps or Velcro won't do. (Sailrite reveals lack of real-world sailing experience in all its designs. Sewing and fabric is their expertise).
A small line bag for the tail of the furler line has been a convenience. All of these bags double as a place to temporarily stick a winch handle or a Diet Coke.
I never know what to do with the genoa sheets, which on my boat are long to permit winging out on an extended whisker pole. I've always left them on deck, ready to go--but that keeps them dirty and wet. Some boats near me have genoa line bags on the bow pulpit, which seems all right. But then the genoa loses its roll, because some tension on the sheets is required to maintain that. Same goes for taking the sheets off every time.
This line bag hangs behind the Dorade box. I set some sheet tension on the furler, then tie the sheets to the Dorade guard. The rest of the genoa sheets go into the bag. The bag is Velcroed to the guard, and comes off with the other deck protection when sailing.
Update, 2022: I stopped using this bag. Too much bother for the bother.
Where to keep the protective canvas, including the big sail cover?
I made a bag to fill the mouth of the huge helm-seat locker. Its bottom panel is Phifertex, for ventilation and drainage. The bag is held in the opening by cable ties at each corner. To climb into the locker, just snip two cable ties and fold it back. I go in there so often, at least at this early stage of renovation, that I sewed a pocket into the bag. It holds a few dozen cable ties and a snipper to cut their tails off.
I know it's tradition. Yes, they're sort of easier to store. OK, they permit ventilation schemes by leaving one or more out. And in varnished teak, which is what Ericson chose for my model, they look good. But mine only looked good. Each board was made in three pieces, apparently to use up short lengths of scrap in the woodshop. I dropped one and it broke at the joint. It had been reglued, I noticed. I then remembered the role of hatch boards when a thousand pounds of sea water breaks against them--which is never to yield. Lemmeoutahere.
Such disaster is unlikely whilst lifting a martini in my smoking jacket, so my real complaint is ergonomic. The blasted things require separate motions to put in and take out. They require alignment of rabbets and angles. They slide all over the place when placed at rest. They store as a small package, but where to put them is a good question if they're to be handy for the occasional rain squall (if no dodger). And anywhere you put them, and anyhow you handle them, and for any use of them other than repurposing as cricket bats or cutting boards, they require both hands to deal with at all times.
Also: 9 percent of the time I leave my car keys locked below in the boat and have to walk back from the car to get them, attempting to remain calm and find somebody else to blame. Each hatch board, re-removed and then re-replaced, is like an accusation. Self-criticism may be a Thought of Mao, but I don't need it from hatch boards. They can rot forever in whatever hell awaits smirking inanimate objects.
Do I feel better now?
Yes, because I have a new one-piece hatch board out of half-inch acrylic. It's my third iteration. The first was solid plywood, which worked fine. But I felt I needed a window to look out of, so the second one-piece hatch board had a piece of plexiglass. This one is all window, by golly. You can see out, but not in. A local plastics shop made it out of the same grey #2064 acrylic as the new hatch lenses, $100 total.
The ergonomics are much improved. At the moment, I'm just using the clasp to lift the board in and out. I may add a canted handle. The idea is to be able to pick the board up with one hand and align it for insertion or removal without ever having to put it down. Oh, and if you're wondering, half-inch plastic is lighter than 3/4" teak.
True, the single board must be stored, which might be a disqualification on some boats. But Ericson companionways are relatively small, and this one fits easily into the starboard cockpit lazarette.
I made a canvas bag to hang vertically there. It takes up no space. The plastic slides in and out without restriction. For access to the stuffing box, transmission, steering and rudder post, the bag just folds up and out of the way.
There aren't many projects that cost a hundred bucks and catch our old boats up to contemporary yacht design, which in the case of a plastic hatch board I see as an advance and not in the same category as a bidet, sauna or helicopter pad.
More Line Bags
Line bags not only keep line flaked and out from underfoot, but help keep the long tails from accumulating dirt, swelling and bleaching away at $1.50 a foot.
The shape and size of the basic bags on the cabin house (photo 1) turned out quite big enough, although when making them I wondered how much line they'd actually hold. They're a variant of the Sailrite DIY video. I dispensed with the elastic in favor of a thicker top hem. They definitely must be screwed into the bulkhead--snaps or Velcro won't do. (Sailrite reveals lack of real-world sailing experience in all its designs. Sewing and fabric is their expertise).
A small line bag for the tail of the furler line has been a convenience. All of these bags double as a place to temporarily stick a winch handle or a Diet Coke.
I never know what to do with the genoa sheets, which on my boat are long to permit winging out on an extended whisker pole. I've always left them on deck, ready to go--but that keeps them dirty and wet. Some boats near me have genoa line bags on the bow pulpit, which seems all right. But then the genoa loses its roll, because some tension on the sheets is required to maintain that. Same goes for taking the sheets off every time.
This line bag hangs behind the Dorade box. I set some sheet tension on the furler, then tie the sheets to the Dorade guard. The rest of the genoa sheets go into the bag. The bag is Velcroed to the guard, and comes off with the other deck protection when sailing.
Update, 2022: I stopped using this bag. Too much bother for the bother.
Where to keep the protective canvas, including the big sail cover?
I made a bag to fill the mouth of the huge helm-seat locker. Its bottom panel is Phifertex, for ventilation and drainage. The bag is held in the opening by cable ties at each corner. To climb into the locker, just snip two cable ties and fold it back. I go in there so often, at least at this early stage of renovation, that I sewed a pocket into the bag. It holds a few dozen cable ties and a snipper to cut their tails off.
