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Seayanika - The Dips and Hollows of Boatbuilding When we started our boatbuilding project from a bare hull in October, 2000, we hoped to be spending Christmas 2003 aboard in some warm, tropical anchorage. Instead, here we are, still on the hard in rainy Southern California. How can this be? We’ve discovered three great truths about our project (or excuses, if you will), that have delayed our completion: 1. A 50-foot boat is three times as much work as a 3,000 square foot house. 2. Sometimes it’s just either too hot, too cold, too rainy or requires too much energy to work on the boat. 3. You don’t always order parts and supplies when you need them and/or the parts don’t always arrive when they are supposed to. Our latest setback was a big one. We found a perfect weather window in early September to paint the boat. We spent a good amount of time sanding, cleaning and prepping the hull for primer, and I was getting excited that Seayanika was soon going to be a beautiful shiny blue. Erik applied the primer with a spray gun, and once finished it was apparent that the hull was not nearly smooth enough for a dark colored paint. There were dips and hollows everywhere! So, we spent most of September and October in mindless drudgery, mixing epoxy, applying epoxy, and sanding, sanding, sanding with a long board, back and forth, over and over, until the shoulders cried for mercy. On one side of the hull we had to repeat this process five times! I can still see Erik up on the scaffolding cursing the fact that Seayanika was a 50-foot boat instead of a 30-footer. But just like Hemingway’s Santiago, from The Old Man and the Sea, Erik plodded on, day after day, methodically sanding, and never giving up. Then, just as the fairing was nearing completion, and the nice dry Santa Ana weather was coming, wouldn’t you know some numbskull would accidentally set off the largest wildfire disaster in the history of California. Although the fire never got closer than 8 miles away from us, the sky was filled with smoke and the boat was covered in ashes. Once we could actually go outside and breathe, we had to peel up all of our tape and plastic, wash the ash from the boat, and re-prep. However, I’m not going to sit here and whine about our miniscule problems. We were luckier than most -- all we lost was time. Towards the middle of last month, Erik began construction of the pilot house. In my personal opinion, pilot houses are not necessarily pleasing to the eye, but are a necessary evil for long distance cruising. Erik evidently feels the same because he refers to this structure as "the goiter." Once he finished with the framing, he removed the rudimentary pilot house so he could complete it inside his shop.
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Erik tacks together the basic framework for the pilothouse in place on 'Seayanika.' He then removed it and finished inside his shop.
Another of Erik’s accomplishments these past couple of months was the fabrication and installation of our refrigerator and freezer. We were fortunate in being invited to participate in a new product promotion from Glacier Bay. With their outstanding holding plates, compressor and auxiliary air conditioning unit, and Erik’s drawer-compartment design, we’re confident we have a great, easy to use system. Love them drawers! While Erik was busy bending aluminum for the refrigerator/freezer, I spent two weeks stuck in the forward head, prepping the walls for paint. For some reason, the regimen -- applying marine putty, sanding, more putty, sanding, applying primer, sanding, primer, sanding, applying topcoat, sanding, topcoat, sanding, topcoat -- seemed vaguely familiar. The good news is, the forward head is done! The bad news: I have to repeat the same process in the aft head. Our mast and boom was picked up in September by La Fiell Manufacturing in Santa Fe Springs. Strangely enough, they are the very same company who originally sold the spars for this boat nearly 30 years ago. Talk about longevity in the business! La Fiell has completed the attachments and sent the finished product to Pacific Offshore Rigging, where the owner, Fritz, is standing by to rig Seayanika. Everything except the boat is ready to go (including me!). Meanwhile, I have completely stopped estimating when Seayanika will finally be launched. I think I’ve been saying two months for nearly a year now, so obviously I’m no good at it. In my attempts to rush things along, I’ve been nagging Erik incessantly, to the point where I sound like a fishwife. Erik, on the other hand, has been taking total advantage of the fact that I want the boat finished pronto. Whenever I ask him to help with the dirty dishes he comes back with, “I don’t have time, I’m building a boat.” If I ask him to fold laundry or put away his clean clothes, it’s the same story. Take me out to dinner? Hah! He’s building a boat! I’ll get back at him somehow. Maybe for Christmas I’ll fill his stocking with sawdust. Or the next time he feels frisky, I’ll tell him he needs to save his energy for working on the boat! Editor's Note -- To follow Seayanika's progress in between these updates, visit www.seayanika.com.
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