Maintain and repair: and learn more history

Maintain and repair; and learning more history

 

It has been a year since the restoration was officially completed, though it seems that there hasn’t been a week go by that some marina artisan hasn’t been on board performing his or her magic, and handing me an invoice. 

            After the regatta (previous blog) I noticed the shrouds and stays were a little loose.  Upon closer inspection I saw that the mast had slipped slightly further down into the boat; perhaps as much as a ½ inch.  I called a shipwright friend of mine and we descended into the main salon, lifted the floor board near the mast.  He stuck his arm to the elbow into bilge.  “Your mast step is broken.” he said.  How could that be I thought, I had seen the board the mast rests on it was almost 2” of solid oak 12” wide suspended over three stringers spreading the load more that a foot and a half in each direction.  Apparently over the years, fresh water seeping down the mast, had collected at the bottom where a notch is cut into the board to take the matching notch protruding from the bottom of the mast.  At this weakened point, with the stress put on it by the race, the board finally let go; it would have to be replaced.  “Hopefully we can the step out with out cutting any stringer, but the mast will have to come to see.”  He said, he also said his schedule was too full so he would have to recommend someone. 

            Soon the floor boards in the entire forward section of the boat were out, and the boat was on its way to the yard.  For the second time in less than a year the main mast was pulled out of the boat and laid on saw horses across the deck. Back in the slip, the old step was cut and slipped out of it notch in pieces.  A new step was created out of a 2”x12”x30” oak and the notch carefully cut in the exact location for the bottom of the mast to settle in.  Back to the yard, the mast was lifted off the horses, pivoted vertical, and slid back in with the 1938 silver, Standing Liberty, half dollar securely in place.   Back again to the slip so the oak floor could be reinstalled.  Several of the floor boards were destroyed in the removal process and new boards had to be cut, stained to match. When it was all completed one could not tell there had been any disturbance.  I believe that was the most expensive racing trophy I have ever received.

 

            I believe I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs entries that in the history of ownership Destiny was owned by a group called LifeSail, an organization that teaches sailing to under privileged children.  The head of this organization has been an acquaintance of mine for some time and knew that I had acquired the boat.  He stopped by my office saying he’d found a old set of blue prints for the boat. Wow, what a find.  They were actually copies of the originals, but clearly show that William Atkin drew the plans, a slight modification from his original, for Mr. John F. String, in July of 1937.  I have to assume Mr. String then retained Joel Johnson to build the boat. I am doing further research to learn how long Mr. String owned the boat, if he did, and where and to whom it was sold.

 

Destiny's first Regatta

            It was called “One More Time Regatta”, that is, of-course, assuming there has been a “time” before.  The Wooden Hull Yacht Club teamed up with Del Rey Yacht Club, to sponsor this annual race of wooden hull boats on June 23.   I decided to enter Destiny just to see how she would sail against other boats of her era. I know that Mr. Atkin had, at least, a thought of racing when he drew the plans for the Meridian model, or why else would he describe his Yawl rig a “rule cheater” in the accompanying article for MotorBoating magazine’s April 1934 issue.  Though, the whole idea of a “rule cheater” begs the question of whether it is the “winning” or real performance of this sailing yacht that was most important to the designer.  I guess by nature we are a competitive species, and if there is no desire to win then why race at all?  However, if designing a “yawl” was primarily to get a better handicap performance rating, rather than it actually performing better, then I wonder what is the point other than “winning”?  I would like to think both.

            I have not been able to ascertain whether Destiny had raced before in Southern California; at least not by her present name because neither SCYA, nor Southern California PHRF had a record of it.  As far as I know this wasn’t “One More Time” for Destiny, but perhaps its first time on the field of competition. It was, at least for me at the helm.

            I had sent in my entry form, and at the Saturday morning skipper’s meeting I was supposed to be assigned a handicap.  We looked up other full keel yawls of about the same water line length and displacement and came up with an acceptable rating for the race committee.  The race is historically an inverted start, meaning the slowest boat start first, then all subsequent boat, depending on their handicap, are assigned a start time the appropriate number of minutes and seconds after the first boat is off.  The idea is that if all boats sailed up to their handicap, they would all cross the finish line at the same time.  Thank God it’s only a theory.

            My start was 18 minutes, 45 seconds after the first boat, and I was the 3^rd boat to start in a field of 17 entrants.  The winds were pretty good for Santa Monica Bay this day and that 18 minutes and 48 seconds seemed like a very long wait as we watched the two boats ahead stretch their lead further and further.  Finally our time was drawing near. “Your to close…” shouted our bowman “you’re going to be over early.” So I jibed around, loosing precious momentum, but we got pointed to the line and I heard our horn seconds before crossing; we were off.  The big genoa was cranked, we healed over and someone shouted “we’re doing seven knots”.  By the time we rounded the first mark, at the Santa Monica Pier, we had cut the lead of the first boats by more that half.  As we approached the next mark, three and a half miles to windward, we had already passed the first boat start and the second boat was approaching the mark slightly behind us…but I had miscalculated the current and had to wear away and jibing to keep from hitting the mark.  This was a costly error and the second boat scooted by, rounded the mark seconds ahead, and set its spinnaker, “Good by”, we didn’t have a spinnaker or a chance.  The whole rest of this leg we watched as it pulled away.  Number two was now number one, and I started to look over my shoulder.

            Rounding the third and final mark, at the El Segundo buoy, we turned toward the finish line and starting a slow but encouraging game of catch up.  But, it wasn’t to be, our rival, a gaff rigged sloop, was over the line a good four minutes ahead.  One could argue we were faster, boat for boat, since they started eight minutes ahead, but we didn’t beat the handicap. One could also wonder what might have been if we too had a spinnaker to fly.  As it was, we were handed the first place trophy for “Ketches and Yawls”, but the coveted first over all was captured by the boat of which I only saw the stern…and I didn’t even catch its name.  I guess next year, if we are here, it can truly be “One More Time.”

           

           

 

Mariner Magazine article

The following is from the March issue of Mariner Magazine, published in Marina del Rey, CA

Saving an Atkin’s Yawl

By Captain Jim Cash

            It has been a struggle, but I’ve survived.  A year ago, last December, I reported coming down with a full blown case of the dreaded Woodboatitis.  I’m happy to report that I’m on the mend with a diagnosis of full recovery, though a lot poorer. 

            In my case, it was exposure to a 1938 vintage racing yawl designed by William Atkin, called the Meridian, and built by shipwright Joel Johnson in his shop in Fairfield, Connecticut.  I’d been exposed to wood boats before, but this one really threw me for a loop.  I had let my guard down after attending the Wooden Boat Festival in Port Townsend, WA, when friend (I use that word loosely) called and lured me to an old boat yard in Wilmington, CA.  The next thing I remember was breaking out a crisp new check book and writing the equivalent to the “Great American Novel.”  Before it was over, I’d gone through several new packets of check, and wore out several credit cards to boot.  My insurance company is refusing to reimburse me claiming it was a non-covered ailment. 

            “You’re spending Millions of dollars on that old boat” my wife would harangue…I hope she’s exaggerating, I haven’t added it up… every time I would mentioned the stack of unread LA Times and suggest we drop her subscription.

            The disease started with a complete disassembly, clean, and preparation the interior for new paint and varnish, even the toilet was removed. Then a coat of white primmer was sprayed everywhere, from the keel board to the cabin top, in, under, around and through every nook, cranny, and floor board.  Then three coats of nice soft semi- gloss white with the natural teak, oak and mahogany trim and sole varnished to a high gloss…Nathanael Herreshoff would have been proud.

            By spring, the malignancy and metastasized to the exterior where the decks were tackled with abandon, over a thousand bungs replaced, and the old grout removed and recauked.  As spring rolled into summer it was time to remove the masts from their seats, strip them of the old varnish, and replace the ancient standing rigging. Wow, things have changed in the rigging world in the last seventy years.  At the same time the cabin structure was scrapped to bare and new varnish applied. 

            When the rigging was completed the hull was next and the process began with a with a haul out and tenting for termite treatment, the mandatory removal and inspection of fasteners for insurance and a fresh coat of bottom paint and sacrificial zincs. 

As summer gave way to fall, three quarters of the year, was gone and the hull had yet to be approached…it was time! Again, stripped down to bare wood, mahogany over oak frames, old caulking removed from between the tightly faired planks, and West System applied.  Then sanded, primed, and painted…a rich burgundy to complement the teak decks and mahogany cabin.  Her name Destiny was re-applied and she was launched: a miraculous transformation had occurred.

            She looked beautiful, but she still needed her electrics updated and her vintage Gray Marine auxiliary brought back to life.  By this time a new winter season, the earth having rotated a full 360º, came upon us and she was done… my malignmant was starting to abate.   Her interior glowed with new lighting, her engine room swept clean of fumes with a new blower, and all her navigation lights brightly warned others of her presents at night.   Her old gray Gray was purring on command and she moved gracefully through the water, 5 knots, at only 1500 RPMs.  We had done it, we saved a vintage nautical classic from the wrecking saw.

            Neptune, or some such deity must be pleased as I’m on my way to full recovery… and hopefully with a full dose of immunity.  

Home to Marina del Rey

It has always been my intention that once the restoration was completed to bring Destiny back to Marina del Rey, about a 30 nautical mile trek around Palos Verdes peninsula, north past the Beach Cities.  Before she was sold to the individual that abandoned her at the Wilmington yard, she was part of a sailing program for underprivileged children, and sailing out of Marina del Rey.

            When I returned from my latest Hawaii delivery, I was disappointed to learn that the mechanic had made no further progress with the old Gray Marine.  It was now the first of December and I really wanted to have her close to home before the winter rains. I asked around and was told of another mechanic, closer to my generation, who could fix anything and knew these old engines.  I’d heard this before, but at this point I figured I had nothing to loose.  His name was Silver, when he arrived at the boat I explained all that had been done so far; rebuilt carbureator, new wires, new points, rebuilt distributor, new plugs, etc.  He, like the others, tore into the engine with abandon.  He too wanted to blame the carbureator at first and replaced it with one he had at his shop,  when that didn’t solve the problem he was convinced it was the fuel pump, but luckily when he tested it, the fuel flow was strong.  Next he removed the distributor and tested spark, even I could see the tiny light jumping in sequence.  Then, unlike the others, he removed the plate at the rear of the engine into which the distributor attached.  Here was a fiber gear.  Holding the distributor armature and turning the gear he found that the gear was slipping.  I saw the nod of his head as he lifted it to show me the problem.  The engine could not stay in time.  “I doubt if we can find these gears anymore, but I think I can fix it.”  He said. 

            “How long?”  I asked expecting another week at the least.  “I’ll have it back together in the morning.” He said, it was already 4:45 pm.  Sure enough the next day when I arrived at the boat he was there and the engine was purring like a lion.  “You know, your starter needs to be lubricated, I’ll take it to my shop and have it back tomorrow.” The starter, though reliable, was making a terrible noise when it kicked in, so I consented. Again good to his word in the morning a new starter was bolted on the block. “Oh, I had a rebuilt one at the shop, so I just swapped them out.”  He said as he packed his tools.  “Give me a call if anything goes wrong.”           

            Thinking a great re-launch voyage would be to go to historical Catalina Island,  Valerie, myself and some friends made New Years Eve reservations at Two Harbors, about a four hour sail from our work docks in Wilmington.  Bright and early the morning of New Years Eve, we packed the boat for two nights at the island and fired up the engine.  We eased the boat out of the slip and retraced our route of the previous month, but this time the engine hummed along without a glitch. It was a sunny December day in Southern California, but when we turned under the Vincent Thomas bridge we couldn’t see past “Ports O' Call,” and the closer we got to the ocean the denser it got…the dreaded California FOG.  We ventured out hoping we would see some clearing, there were even signs of blue if you looked straight up, but as soon as we passed Terminal Island we were engulfed in a cotton like fog so thick I could not see ten feet past the bow.  We didn’t have radar, or even a horn, I hate to say, so I turned around.  Three more attempts were tried that afternoon before calling it a day heading back to the slip.

            New Years day was like another time entirely, and one would not have guessed we were in the same harbor when we again slipped out of Colonial marina.  My volunteer crew was up for another attempt, and this time we had a delightful and uneventful motor-sail to Marina del Rey.  The winds were light, but we were able to sail a little after passing Palos Verdes and falling off to a heading of 350º  All four sails were flying and we saw 7 knots on the hand held GPS. 

            I had arranged for a temporary slip on the sea wall in front of the “Ship’s Store,” on Panay Way, and by 3 p.m. we were pulling in.  No sooner than the lines were tied, we already had an audience of on-lookers.  Shouts of “She sure is beautiful”, and “Now, that’s a real boat” were coming from the walk way along the shore. I was beaming inside.

            Since then we have taken the boat out for one afternoon sail on Santa Monica Bay to get some photos under sail, but the winds were light.  Getting out of the tight slip was quite a challenge.  Luckily, there was an empty slip behind to back into, but still needed to have the bow pulled a round manually to make the turn.  These boats were not designed for the compressed boat slips of the modern marinas.  We watched the start of the “Malibu and Return” race, the first of the 2012 season, and paced the cruising class start for a while.  I felt good that we were keeping up with the new fancy fiberglass cruisers until we had to fall off and head back to the marina.

Long Beach Boat Show 2011

     After Valerie and I returned from Italy, the organizers of the up coming Long Beach Boat Show, called to ask if the Atkin Yawl could be ready to display at the boat show this year. They wanted to have a public draw and knew that a classic, historic yawl would help bring in patrons. Working fast and furious, we managed to get the last of the finishing touches ready for show. I found an antique brass compass and binnacle on eBay to replace the scratched and dented chrome one. The new brass water pump replaced the old, rusted stainless steel at the galley sink, but the copper tubing to the water tanks was not connected...plumbing has yet to be addressed. Also, Lendsey Philpott, author of the definitive decorative knot book, The Ultimate Book of Decorative Knots, came aboard and tied Turks heads on the "King pin" of the wheel, the wheel shaft, made a decorative mat for the cockpit, and made eight new sail ties for the main, mizzen and staysail.

            The show was only a few miles from the boat yard where the restoration was being done, but because of a rail road lift bridge, I had to take the boat the long way around Terminal Island, past San Pedro, and the LA Gate to get around to Rainbow Harbor, where the show was being held. The engine hadn't been run for several months, but it started easily and seemed to run fine. My friend Bill came with me and we eased out to the main channel and pointed her toward the Vincent Thomas bridge. After a couple hundred yards the engine started to slow down. I nudged the throttle, and it picked up but shortly it slowed again. By now we were half way to the fuel dock, where I was headed to top off the tanks. We made it, but when I tried to restart the engine after fueling, the 30's vintage flat-head Gray Marine, refused to start.



















            The guys at the fuel dock suggested I call a local mechanic who arrived within the hour and then for the next two hours tinkered with the engine. He finally got it going again, and we were off, but within two hundred more yards the same thing happened. It started to slow and finally died entirely. The wind was whispering at less than five knots, and the tidal currents were pushing us toward the rocks. Bill and I got the mizzen and staysail up, giving us just enough way on to ease away from the rocks and head toward the Queens Gate side of the harbor. I then called the electrician, Ian, who had been replacing the electrical wiring on the boat, and who had a Boston Whaler moored at long Beach's Shore Line Marina; he volunteered to come to our rescue. The wind had picked up a little by the time Ian arrived with the Whaler and we were sailing comfortably down wind. He came along side, secured the lines, and we proceeded toward the show. This was the first sail since the sea trail, more than nine months before. I was even more impressed with Destiny's sailing ability this time. The old sails had been cleaned and still held the shape well.  With the help of the Whaler we maneuvered into the space assigned for the show and tied the lines. I then called the mechanic, who promised to be there in the morning before the show opened.

            The show began on Thursday morning and ran though Sunday.  From the first day, there was a constant stream of admirers coming aboard expounding “ooohs and aaaahs.”   I was told we had more visitors than any other boat in the show; it certainly was the oldest boat in the show.

            The mechanic, actually was at the boat on several mornings before the show opened for the day, showing frustration but espousing confidence he would find the problem and get the engine running.  Finally on Sunday, the last day of the show I came down the docks in my yacht club blazer (boat show attire) the engine was running as smooth as a top.  The mechanic was all smiles, proud that he prevailed and assuring me he would not be charging for all the hours he and his partner had put in to get in running. 

           Monday morning after the close of the show, Bill and I once again cranked the engine, released lines and motored out of the harbor.  It was like déjà vu.  A couple hundred yard past the harbor break water, as we approached the Queen Mary, the engine started slowing.  We were lucky we made it to some open water before it died for good.  Again we scrambled with sails, putting up the main, mizzen and staysail.  I had a Yankee hanked on to the forestay, but had yet to have sheets attached, so we had to settle for what we had.  The morning wind was virtually non existent as usual for this time of year, but give credit to Mr. Atkin, we started to make a little headway.  As morning turned into afternoon the wind picked up and we tacked into the wind for the rest of the afternoon until about 3:30 pm was able to fall off toward the north down the river past Port’s of Call, and under the Vincent Thomas bridge.  At this point my thoughts turned to how would be get Destiny back into her slip since the entry was mostly blocked by a big power cruiser allowing barely a few inches between the dock and the boat to squeeze by.  Bill was going to have to step off the foredeck when I stuck the bow in, with little or no way on, and fend off the dock while I fended off the power boat.  Without and engine in reverse and the river tide current to deal with, this was going to be tricky.  We dropped the main and mizzen up channel and sailed on staysail alone with the wind behind us.  With several hundred feet to go, I tried the engine again, and it fired up like there had been no problem.  We dropped the staysail, and using reverse, I was able to slow down, Bill stepped off and as luck would have it, the owner of the power boat saw us coming and helped guide us safely passed his boat and into the slip.   I tied the lines and called the mechanic.

            I had a few days before I was supposed to leave on a delivery of another boat to Hawaii, so I managed to retrieve the full boat cover that had only recently been delivered from the canvas maker, and cover the boat.  I knew it would be over a month before I returned. 

Coming down to the wire

Restoration of an Atkin Yawl

We are coming down to the wire with the restoration.  When Valerie and I left town early September, for a long planned island-hopping sail off the Amalfi Coast of Italy, Destiny had been hauled again, this time for the final water-line stripe to be painted and the name and hailing port applied to the stern. The yard agreed they would re-launch in my absence. 

  

When we returned from Italy, the boat was back in the slip, the white stripe gleaming, the name painted on the stern in bold white and gold, all the sails bent on. The final details were, and are being completed, and so many final details there are.  There is two drawers of leftover screws and parts, when I ask Luis where does this go holding up a brass bracket of some kind, he shrugs his shoulders and says “ I don’t know, I didn’t take it off.”  How did it get in the drawer if you didn’t take it off, I wanted to say; for that matter how did we end up with two extra drawers?  But, she is looking beautiful. 

The decks have been the final outside challenge, more bungs being replaced, and half the caulking had to be dug out and replaced.  The good news is that the teak decks are just that, the whole deck is teak through and through, more than a half an inch thick. I love natural untreated teak decks, but for a practical purpose I decided to have the deck treated with a “natural” sealant protectorate from Seamco. I’ve used it before on previous boats with teak veneer decks, but it makes the color a little darker that I would prefer. It fades after a while so I’ll live with it. 

I can’t believe it is now Fall, and the restoration is still going on, and the electrical is still not completed.  I had high hopes for sailing in the McNish Classic regatta in August, or the wooden boat festival in Newport Beach, or the “One More Time Regatta” at Marina del Rey, in September…but for these I’ll have to wait for next year. 

Did I mention that I heard from Pat Atkin? She still maintains the website with many of the plans William and his son John, Pat’s husband, designed.  She told me William originally drew the plans of the Meridian for an article in Motor Boating magazine, April issue 1934.  She said she would send me a copy with photos…I can’t wait to receive it.

Also, I got an email from a gentleman from Rhode Island, who saw this blog, and sent me photos of a model he owns of the Meridian, built from William Atkin’s original plans for the boat.  What a wonderful tool this internet!!

Around the final turn...and heading for the barn

We have slipped into August, behind schedule of my original time estimate.  I’ve missed the 2011 McNish Classic in Oxnard, but hope to make the Wooden boat festival in Newport Beach in September...we will see. 

            The hull painting is the focus at the moment.  The haul out accomplished the termite treatment, the survey needed for insurance, and a new coat of bottom paint and zincs.  Now, back at the work slip, the hull prep was completed and the first coat of primer has been applied.  We had to replace both corners of the stern transom where fresh water had found its way into the wood and rotting.  Also, one plank about 2 feet long on the starboard side needed replaced.  Hopefully the new hull paint will be applied this week.

            At the same time I’ve ordered some of the specialty parts I’ve been putting off.  You know the saying that 20% of the restoration, cost 80% of the total out lay.  I finally ordered the ‘melon deck prism’ that I decided to install, from a company in London.  After an exhaustive search of the internet and several direct call to various manufacturers I decided on the one from the Davy and Company. It’s beautifully sculptured solid glass in the shape of an old fashion orange juicer. It is flat on top to collect the light and the juicer part disperses the light below deck.  I believe I said in a previous blog, that I decided to get rid of an out of place dorade box and vent on the cabin top, but doing this left a 6” hole.  I got the ideal of filling the hole with a deck prism, and went web surfing.  This is a beautiful piece of nautical nostalgia, with the brass retainer ring, but there may have been a better way to spend $250. 

            Then the new brass galley hand pump arrived from Defender. I mentioned before that I want to replace the counter tops with copper, and install a hammered copper sink.   This is not done yet…but at least I have the galley pump!! 

            Finally, I also had to order a new globe for the Harnisch marine lamp that I got from the Ship’s store.  I bought these replicas of old marine lamps  ‘on sale’ early on and put them on the boat. Unfortunately the beautiful globe, with the etched in silhouette of a square rigger, had gotten broken.  I thought there was no way it could ever be replaced.  Thanks god for the internet.  I researched Harnisch lamps and boy, did I get an education.  The company, started in 1841 in Denmark is still be run by the same family, now in Toronto.  I talked to the great, great, great grandson of the founder, also a trained tinsmith, Peter Harnisch.  “No problem” he said just send us $80usd…what could I do? I learned that the lamps were not replicas; the company has been making these authentic marine oil lamps since the late 1800s. I’m happy that another bit of nautical history will be incorporated into the finished project.