Deck and sails

Deck work

I gutted a winch today, for the very first time.

If you find that disturbing, read it more slowly.

I asked Russell to come over and lend moral support. I never would have figured out the first step, as it was fastened in a way I had never imagined. He also loaned me the tool to open it up with. Useful fellow to have around -- when it comes to boats, we just call him God.

I didn't bother with pictures, because they won't help. They'd make it look more complicated than it is. They're a bit like male social politics -- rather complicated to explain, but in the end boiling down to a logical application of force.

Speaking of which, I swabbed the deck this afternoon. I know I'm a real boat-owner now because, instead of smiling and saying, "how cute" when a bird perches photogenically on my rigging, I shake my fist at it and scream, "Get off my mast, you little shitbag!"

Sails

I hoiked the mainsail up to take a good look at it. (That's when I realized the winch was such a mess.) Fortunately, it's intact, unlike my jib, which is marginal at best.

On my way up from Watsonville, I stopped at my storage locker to take a look at the racing sails. They've been folded up for at least a year. The jib is showing wear. Next visit, perhaps I'll bring them up and inspect them properly. If I could sell them and replace Voyager's jib, that would be a weight off my mind.

My soft-wood jury-rigged pull-bar for my hatch (photo below when I get to it) has come apart. I looked at it and snurfed, then thought, "Glass it!" I've got all that fiberglass patch material, and now I know how to use it. Looks like the hand-twisting hatch problem will be soon solved properly.

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