Every time a boat is dry docked, you’ll find little nasty secrets that need repair. I spitefully call them “Gremlins”, because they come out of the dark recesses of the boat and bite you in the back. Sabrina and I cranked away at the first 5 days of work before any Gremlins popped up their ugly faces.
“Pray that it is sunny,” I told Sabrina. Our repairs need sunshine – so that wood could dry, fiberglass could adhere, and paint could be applied. This was a tall order given that the Marquesas had experienced five straight months of the rainiest weather locals have seen. Cruisers we talked to were horrified it was dumping rain non-stop during the supposedly “dry” months of January to May. And now we were in the “wet” months of June-August! Luckily, the weather flipped a switch and the rain stopped the week we entered the boatyard. This was nothing short of a miracle.
Despite the unprecedented sunshine, the wood on the port ama (the location of the major delamination under the boat’s wing) refused to dry properly. We had been working haaaard, 5am to 9pm everyday, powered on coffee and baguettes, grinding and sanding the whole boat. After several of sunshine, the wood looked dry and ready to glass as planned, until suddenly as if a faucet turned on, the wood looked wet again! What?? How does the dry wood suddenly get wet, without any water getting on it?
We scratched our heads. We borrowed a heater to dry the wood, pulled everything out of the ama to dry it out from the inside. Two hours after drying the wood completely, it would start glistening with moisture again. It was driving us crazy!
Enter Armindo, a.k.a. ‘trail angel’ of the Hiva Oa Boatyard. This sailor from the Azores (an island off Portugal) is cruising the world with his wife and two kids. The impressive thing is that Armindo loves to fix boats; he works late into the night on his Lagoon catamaran, but during the day he spends hours helping out people around the boatyard. The most notable example was a crew of young Danish sailors (who we met in Galapagos, and had been stuck in the Hiva Oa boatyard for a month). They were trying to build an entire new rudder, as their old rudder failed upon arrival in Marquesas (the stainless steel mount cracked, and the rudder was a bit rotten). Unfortunately, there is only one competent fiberglass/boat builder in the island, so they might be waiting two months for the guy to do this job. Armindo guided them through the entire process and the 24 year old Danes built themselves a new rudder within 10 days. It was incredible.
The kind, high-energy Armindo took us under his wing. We told him about the vexing problem we were experiencing with the mysterious wet wood. He touched the wood with his finger and tasted it. “Salty!” he exclaimed. “You must wash this wood very well with fresh water, and I mean soak it, scrub it strong, then it will dry.” A counter-intuitive solution indeed: to dry it, you must first wet it.
What was happening? The salt trapped in the wood was sucking moisture out of the air. Every time the humidity would rise to a certain level, water was condensing in the wood. We recalled this was the area where our damaged fiberglass was 10 inches underwater, so all the ocean saltwater had permeated into the wood. We scrubbed the wood with fresh water from inside the ama and outside, and just as Armindo said, it dried out.
There are many young people “hitchhiking” on sailboats around the world via websites like “Find-a-Crew”. Boat owners post their trip, request crew, and pick who they like from all the responses they receive. Naturally, after a month or more at sea with strangers, almost all the hitchhikers were looking to jump their ships and find new boats! A massive shuffle was occurring in Hiva Oa: people swapping boats, all heading west to Tuamotos and Tahiti (hey, even Spencer managed to get a piece of that action).
That is how we met Durant and Fabian, young German and French guys who were hitchhiking on different boats, and now were stuck in the boatyard waiting for their host boats to get re-launched and carry on the voyage. We offered these guys bottles of rum (our main exchange currency in the South Pacific… we purchased a few cases at $6/bottle in Ecuador, and traded for $30/bottle in French Polynesia) and they kindly spent hours sanding Aldebaran’s three hulls.
During one of these sanding marathons, Durant found a soft spot in an otherwise perfect looking part of the hull. I dug my screwdriver into the soft spot. Uh-oh. Every bad fiberglass on the boat must be removed, so I took the Exacto-Knife and ripped it out. Underneath, we found a massive Gremlin: a two foot tall area of rotten wood needed to be replaced on the outer port bow. (As if we didn’t have enough on our plates to repair!)
This job required a Skill-saw to cut away a big panel in the side of the boat that we jokingly called our “new window”. The process of re-building the giant hole took lots of plywood and epoxy over the course of a week. After I was done with the initial wood installation, the repair area resembled a severe case of muscle dystrophy. It looked awful. I found more wood to fill in the gaps and kept at it, sculpting wood and epoxy onto the side of the boat until it looked relatively smooth again.
“Hump Day” is the other name for Wednesday, the mid-week energetic hump that you need to go over before finishing the work week. Every endeavor has a hump, a “test” shall we say, and for our 2 weeks at the boatyard, we struggled with the two Gremlins on Days 5-7, taking three steps forward and two steps back. Doubts and uncertainties grew as our massive repairs remained unsealed, exposed to the rains that threatened everyday. We became like bulldogs, refusing to let go and pushing, pushing, until our perseverance got us past the demoralizing energetic hump of the Gremlins…. battered but victorious, we got through it with time to fiberglass and seal the boat, in itself a job that was fairly beyond our heads.