Cuts…
C.E. Grundler
15,829. That's the final count for words cut from Last Exit, though these were not wholesale chops so much as fine-tuning every sentence from beginning to end. (Less circular saw and more Dremel.) Yes, a few minor elements were trimmed away, but they were mere paragraphs here and there, mostly non-essential darlings like those random black Jettas. But those cuts are over and done with, only to be eclipsed by far scarier ones involving large power tools, dreadful noise and vast amounts of fiberglass dust. Yes, we've begun the attack on the salon ceiling/bridge deck.
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As with writing, there are certain things that go hand in hand with owning an old boat. A certain sense of adventure, I suppose. Optimism is helpful as well. Determination. Perseverance. This repair has been a long time coming. From what I'd been told, Annabel Lee's former owner was very fond of his power sander. Evidence is all around the boat, where teak has been sanded clear down to the fasteners in many places. Decks that had once been 1/2″ thick were reduced to 1/4″ or less. Of course, we're only too aware that the upper helm had more than once leaked, and in lowest spots of the bridge, (made even lower by years of zealous oversanding) the fluid ate through the bedding, followed the screws into the coring, and eventually into the cabin. Leaks, leaks and more leaks. Fortunately, our little boat has a certain unusual, exceptionally rare feature. ALL her coring, in fact all wood used in her construction, be it structural, joinery or cosmetic, is TEAK. Aside from the engine and the concrete in the ballast, if it's not fiberglass, it's teak. And the teak we've found is indeed wet, but as solid as the day the boat was built. Unfortunately large areas of the glass above and below had completely delaminated, flattening out and sinking in the process.
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We evaluated the merit of repairing from above and below, and, after much consideration concluded the best way to do this properly would be the most drastic. We would cut away the damaged section and replace it with a new core of marine ply laminated together with epoxy resin, supported by stringers that duplicate the originals and glassed in from above and below shaped to the exact camber as the undamaged areas of the cabin. We built a frame to duplicate the actual dimensions and shape, and laminated the wood in our garage.
We'll truck this down to the boatyard, where it will be lifted by the Wiggins forklift to the proper height and guided into place. It should be interesting. But as of last weekend, we covered every inch of cabin with plastic to hopefully control the impending mess, and made that first terrifying cut. The cabin now sports one very weird sunroof. This is just the start, but as which so much else in my life at the moment, there's no turning back now.
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