(Year One, begun over the winter)
It’s one thing to tear apart something for destruction and a whole ‘nother thing to dissemble something for eventual reconstruction. Hammers and saws are fun; screwdrivers and wrenches are work.
Up and down the ladder, up and down the ladder – how did all these parts possibly fit inside my little boat?!
Maybe half of the pieces . . . funny how it doesn’t seem like much until you dissemble it, remove it from the boat and start piling it up in a trailer . . .
. . . and start laying them all out on a garage floor. This photo is of just the first little load.
While I’m doing the grunt work, she’s just dreaming of tropical waters, dozing under the winter sun.
Sure, a couple of cuts, a little sanding, a little painting, just a couple of weekends . . . riiiiight.
Sand . . . prime . . . paint . . . flip them all over and . . .
Sand . . . prime . . . paint . . .
These two pieces illustrate two problems with rebuilding the interior of a boat: From where do you measure anything? and What is (or will be) level? I raised the countertops 7 inches (the original height was exactly the right height to slowly break your back.) You can define level as parallel to the waterline when the boat is trimmed evenly fore and aft, port and starboard. Okay, how are you going to mark that? In the yard, she’s on jackstands, and even her cabin sole is not a straight line. On the water, she’s light and tender enough that moving your body anywhere affects the trim. The solution? Drink some coffee, or drink some beer, swear and mutter, and then just take an educated guess.