I clearly recall, from my days as a young marine mechanic, the first time I encountered a marine engine equipped with serpentine belts. The arrangement replaced the previous three V-belts with a single, ribbonlike grooved serpentine model. It had automatic tension to boot. It represented the very essence of simplicity: a game-changer with a clear increase in reliability.  

The flat design of serpentine belts, with its increased contact area, results in greater load-carrying ability with less likelihood of slippage at lower tension levels. Where available, they’re always worth having. There are conversion kits for some engines; these are used primarily when installing high-output alternators.  

Alas, as good as serpentine belts are, they too wear out. Look for cracks in the ribbed side, especially where the belt’s smooth side passes over an idler pulley. That setup will often spread and highlight cracks on the opposite side.  

Last month, I discussed belt slippage and tension-related issues as common problems. The next-most-common issue related to belts centers on alignment.  

It is critically important for belts, both V and serpentine, to turn over pulleys that are parallel and in the same plane as each other. The greater the load, the more important this configuration becomes. Misalignment can lead to belt wear and failure, and it often occurs with aftermarket installations—in ­particular, with the installation of high-output alternators whose frame or pulley designs are different from the original equipment. While a laser can confirm pulley alignment, it is often possible to sight over the pulleys and belt to make this determination. If a gap can be observed between the edge of the belt and the pulley rim, and if the gap is larger on one side than the other, then there is likely a misalignment.  

Production of belt dust can also indicate an alignment issue. In the case of serpentine belts, exposure of the white filament on one side of the belt is also an indicator of an alignment issue, or a worn tensioner pulley. None of these telltale signs should be ignored because all can lead to belt failure.

When changing belts, check all pulleys—both driven (alternators, water pumps) and idler—for free, easy movement. Any irregularity, or “crunchiness,” is cause for concern. Idler and alternator pulleys should spin freely, while water-pump pulleys will have some resistance; they should spin with minimal effort. Surfaces over which belts turn should be free of rust, nicks and other irregularities, all of which could lead to belt damage or accelerated wear.  

For serpentine belts that utilize an automatic tensioner, belt replacement requires compression of a powerful spring within the tensioning device. This is a task that every skipper should know how to carry out—with haste, if necessary.  

Most tensioners have a square hole designed to accept a standard half-inch socket drive. Depending on the size of the tensioner, it might be possible to compress the spring with the socket-wrench handle alone. In some cases, a longer handle, a breaker bar or a section of pipe might be necessary. Because the tensioner’s spring is powerful, use extreme caution when compressing and releasing it; never place your fingers between the belt and pulley, and always wear safety glasses. The job is more easily accomplished with two people, but be prepared to go it alone if necessary. Lashing the handle of the ratchet is one trick I use to keep the tensioner compressed while I install the belt.

The route that some belts take can be circuitous. If the belt breaks, it might not be immediately obvious how it should be rove. To avoid that scenario, make a diagram or take a photo (and print it) as a visual aid, should ­replacement be necessary.  

Ideally, if you replace belts every two years or so, you should never find yourself in a position where you are making an unplanned replacement. 

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post DIY Serpentine Belt Replacement and Upkeep appeared first on Cruising World.

Summer 1997: I was a college kid with a summer gig at the Norwalk Yacht Club in Connecticut. One of my first jobs involved helping varnish the cap rail on the club’s front deck. A friend warned me that this was the boss’s litmus test. I kept my job, but I can still hear my boss warning our crew to mind our “runs and holidays.” 

Flash-forward 25 years, and I’ve learned that the chiseled foam brushes my boss favored weren’t exactly standard (see sidebar). Even so, I can ­only imagine that the Norwalk Yacht Club produced several generations of employees who are fairly deft at foamy-brush brightwork.

While it’s tough to pinpoint when mariners first started ­employing varnish, likely to keep spars from absorbing water (read: weight aloft), odds are good that the practice originated in the Mediterranean region and was derived from resins from now-extinct trees. Varnish and varnish alternatives aren’t new, but they can do a great job protecting wood from salt and sunlight while ­letting owners customize a yacht’s ­aesthetics. 

The trick, of course, is ­ensuring proper attention to detail before and during ­application, and performing some annual maintenance. 

All varnishes are based on proprietary formulas that ­consist of solvents, oils, resins, additives and drying agents; however, varnishes can be ­sorted into two basic camps. Traditional varnishes (“spar” or “marine” varnishes) employ natural oils, usually from trees such as tong or linseed oil, and an alkyd or phenolic base, or sometimes a blend of the two. Polyurethane varnishes employ synthetic (polymer) oils and are either water- or oil-based. Alternatively, they can employ a base that’s a blend of alkyds or phenolics and polyurethane. 

Both varnish types have their applications and virtues. 

Traditional varnishes are flexible in nature and never actually cure, but instead achieve a “suspended elastic state,” says Jason Spaulding, Epifanes’ technical sales manager. This natural elasticity allows the ­varnish to bend and stretch with the wood as it moves from loading—such as with spars—or from seasonal swelling and shrinking. While these attributes make traditional varnishes great for working woods, they also mean that the finish isn’t particularly hard or resilient to everyday dings, scrapes and scratches. Spar varnishes have a traditional amber look that many people love, however, wood purists sometimes grumble that it can disguise the wood’s natural grain. 

“If people want a ­traditional look, they should use [spar] ­varnish,” Spaulding says. “If [they] want a more ­modern look, they should use a ­polyurethane.”

Polyurethane varnishes, which tend to have a clear ­finish, typically yield a much harder and more scratch-­resistant “candy-coated” look. The trouble is that these eye-pleasing finishes have a tendency to crack when they are applied to wooden spars, spinnaker poles, and ­other pieces of brightwork that ­require some degree of give.  

Polyurethane varnishes are available as one- or two-part systems. While both ­product types can work well, one-part systems tend to be more ­user-friendly. 

“One-part systems remove the chemistry, which helps out a lot,” says Joel Arrington, ­boat-shop manager at the Northwest Maritime Center in Port Townsend, Washington. “One-part varnishes are better for the DIYer.” 

Others agree. “Repairs are much easier with a one-part varnish,” says Tom Maellaro, vice president of marketing at Modern Recreational Technologies, which owns Pettit Marine Paint. “Touch-ups are hard with two-part ­varnishes. But fixing damage to a single-­component product is very easy.” Mariners just sand and reapply.

While spar and ­polyurethane varnishes are the ­standard on many boats, some ­cruisers ­prefer varnish alternatives such as Cetol. These ­finishes are ­often easier to apply and ­maintain (read: no sanding ­between coats). Years ago, ­Cetol-based products had a reputation for yielding cloudy, opaque-­looking finishes, but today’s ­cruisers can select from different-­looking ­finishes. ­Cetol tends to yield a long-­lasting finish that can be a good match for high-use areas such as handrails.

Irrespective of the ­product, it’s important to think of ­varnish as a system, much like paint. This system begins with base coats, which are ­designed to penetrate the wood while giving subsequent layers ­something to adhere to. 

“A sealer coat is most ­important with teak,” says Maellaro, suggesting DIYers look for a base product that “deeply penetrates the surface and creates a bonding layer for the varnish.” Alternatively, some cruisers opt to use epoxy for the sealer/base coat, and then switch to varnish for the topcoats. 

Ultraviolet protection is one of the main benefits of varnish, but not all varnishes are created equally when it comes to the sun. Some have a higher solids content; this isn’t an assurance of sunlight protection. 

“It depends on their UV package,” Maellaro says, adding that a varnish could have thick viscosity with a low UV ­barrier, or it could have low viscosity and high UV protection. He advises DIYers to research UV properties and select a product that matches their local climate (that means more UV protection for a sailboat in Miami than in Seattle).

If properly applied and ­maintained, varnish will protect a yacht’s wood for years. The trick, like so many things marine, is to ensure that all of the little steps are taken, in proper order, with patience ­elevated to the highest virtue status.

“Concentrate on cleanliness,” Spaulding says of the pre-varnishing preparation process. “Always use lint-free rags—not a paper towel or a T-shirt—and denatured alcohol. Tack rags are extremely important.” 

Arrington and ­Maellaro agree. “It’s about trying to ­mitigate debris and dust—­anything that can get blown into the work,” Arrington says. “Some folks will build a shelter because it’s a more controlled working environment. Also, make sure you have everything you need before you start the project.”

DIYers can often apply ­varnish while their yacht is on the hard, depending on the yard’s policies, but ­Maellaro says: “There’s the old adage: It’s better to varnish on the ­water. There’s no dust, just more bugs.” 

Sometimes, the best ­solution is to apply varnish off-site. ­Arrington suggests that ­DIYers see if individual pieces of brightwork can be removed from the boat, varnished in a more controlled environment, and then reinstalled. 

Keeping the area super clean should start with a vigorous outing with a Shop-Vac, and then switching to an air ­compressor (or reversing the Shop-Vac) and blowing away any straggler bits. 

“Ninety percent of it is preparation; 10 percent of it is painting,” Spaulding says. “To be a good painter, you need to be a good prepper.”

If you are removing old ­varnish, Arrington suggests ­beginning by peeling off the old varnish using a ­chemical ­stripper or a heat gun to get down to bare wood. If the old varnish allowed water to ­enter, he says, bleach the wood to ­remove staining, and then ­reinvigorate the substrate ­using 120-grit sandpaper. “If the wood is too smooth, it will have a hard time accepting the base layers,” he says.

Spaulding says that this is a good time to tape off ­areas of fiberglass that you want to ­protect from the varnish, ­using painter’s tape and plastic ­sheeting. 

Next, Maellaro says, strain the varnish to remove any ­debris. “If you just use the can, you will contaminate it,” he says. 

This process includes base layers. While DIYers can use a variety of sealer-coat products, Arrington recommends spar varnish that has been thinned by 50 percent with a thinner manufactured by the same company. “It’s an absorbable coat that seals the grain,” he says, “and it becomes a building base for the next coats.” 

From here, he recommends sanding and then applying a second coat that’s thinned by 25 percent, followed by a layer of full-thickness varnish. (Spaulding recommends a third base coat that’s thinned by 15 percent.) Always go with the wood’s grain.

“Once you’re into the ­varnish, never go more aggressive than 220,” Arrington says of sandpaper grit. “You can use a long board with a soft pad that’s either 220 or 320 and work down the high spots.”

Thinning also helps to ensure that the varnish dries evenly. A danger, Maellaro says, is the top film drying before the rest of its coat, causing “solvent entrapment,” which can result in alligator-type marks or sometimes pinholes in the finish. If this happens, the solution is to sand off the compromised layer, thin the varnish, and reapply.

“Ambient heat is really the only way to go,” Spaulding says about getting varnish to dry. “If you force it, you’ll cause issues.” He recommends applying varnish on days when ambient temperatures are 50 to 85 ­degrees Fahrenheit. 

Maellaro agrees, but adds that humidity is another important consideration. “Never varnish if the weather is threatening or raining,” he says. “High humidity is also bad.”

Likewise, Arrington warns that wind has ruined more than one final coat.  

Once the right conditions present themselves, varnishing is a matter of patiently applying a thin coat (roughly 1 to 3 mm thick, with thinner coats being the ideal), waiting for it to dry, lightly sanding the surface with progressively finer sandpaper, and then applying the next coat. While sanding between coats is the norm, Maellaro says that—product depending—DIYers can sometimes skip the sandpaper if they apply coats within 24 to 36 hours of each other.

“Eight coats is the ­minimum,” Spaulding says. “But 10 to 12 coats is better.” 

Which is a lot of prepping, sanding, painting and waiting. “My number-one tip for a perfect coat is patience,” Arrington says. “This starts with setup, and it ends with attention to detail.”

That attention to detail includes selecting the last weather window. “Always apply the final coat in the morning, after the dew has evaporated” Spaulding says. “Evenings are dangerous. Temperatures drop. Dew is a big issue. If it settles, it can act like a wax that doesn’t let the solids move to the surface.” 

Once the final coat has been applied, owners can take steps to ensure that their brightwork stays sharp-looking. 

“Maintenance, maintenance, maintenance,” Spaulding says, adding that a single annual maintenance coat is likely sufficient for boats that reside under normal UV conditions, while two annual maintenance coats are the norm in Florida or the Caribbean. “Putting down eight to 10 coats and then letting it go to hell a year or so later doesn’t make sense to me,” he adds. Customers can get 15 years out of a brightwork job, provided that they are ­vigilant with maintenance. 

Finally, owners should consider supporting their local canvas shop. “Canvas does wonders with UV,” Arrington says. “It looks expensive ­upfront, but it will save you a lot of time.”

While there are a lot of considerations when selecting a varnish or varnish alternative, not to mention hours of work required to get a sparkling finish, the aesthetic results are rewarding, and the protective results can pay dividends for years. 

One final caution: Buy only marine-grade products. Cheaper solutions abound at big-box stores, but they are not formulated to endure the marine environment’s frequent salt-and-sunshine carpet bombings.

David Schmidt is CW’s electronics editor and occasionally writes on other gear topics.

Tools of the Trade

While I learned to ­varnish using a chiseled foam brush, experts ­discourage this tool. “Foam brushes introduce air bubbles ­into the finish,” Tom ­Maellaro says. “And they get ­floppy as the solvents eat the foam. If you’re not ­paying attention, a foam brush can unmold and expand…and can apply uneven amounts of finish.” He ­favors badger-hair brushes, while Jason ­Spaulding suggests Corona ­Europa brushes, which are badger-­style brushes that fetch ­between $10 and $35.

Vendor List 

• Ace: acehardware.com; from $10
• AwlGrip: awlgrip.com; from $6
• Bonstone: bonstone.com; from $85
• Bristol Finish: bristolfinish.us; from $75
• Coelan: supplyground.com; from $80
• Deft Defthane: ppgpaints.com; call for pricing
• Epifanes: epifanes.com; from $25
• HMG: hmgpaint.com; call for pricing
• Interlux: interlux.com; from $25
• Minwax: minwax.com; from $15
• Pettit: pettitpaint.com; from $30
• Vermont Natural Coatings: vermontnaturalcoatings.com; from $10

The post Spring Bright Work: Preparation is Key When Working With Varnish appeared first on Cruising World.

I first got a whiff of the composting-toilet trend a couple of years ago when my Instagram feed exploded with stories of cruisers replacing their regular marine toilets with modern composting versions. It didn’t even occur to me that one day we would join the composting-toilet movement too. Then, after 10 years of trouble-free use, we started getting blockages in the head.

This new development, along with a pervasive “toilet funk” in the cupboards—not so much stale salt water but an odor more like a dirty public bathroom—led us to believe that after a decade, the hard sanitation hose that connected the toilet discharge to the overboard seacock had deteriorated. But we also needed to address another fault in the system: the lack of a reasonable-­size holding tank.

When we bought Kate, our 1973 Newport 41, in 2008, the seller had recently installed a holding tank to comply with US Coast Guard regulations. The undersize 5-gallon holding tank may have been compliant, but it didn’t have the capacity to keep up with everyday use. Since none of the authorities in the 13 countries we have sailed to ever inquired about our holding tank, this hadn’t been an issue.

However, our next stops were Borneo and Malaysia, where marina stays would be possible and regulations are reportedly followed. A functioning holding tank would be necessary. As we drew straws to decide who got the job of jumping overboard to snake the discharge through-hull, and hopefully free the blockage, we decided it was finally time to find a solution to our toilet troubles.

A Composting Toilet?

So what, exactly, is a composting toilet? Simply put, it’s a type of sanitation system that does not use water to dispose of human waste. This “dry” system promotes decomposition through controlled aerobic conditions, or composting. Unlike a port-a-potty or chemical toilet, composting toilets separate liquid and solid waste, which speeds up ­decomposition and reduces odors. To control moisture content and further aid in odor elimination, urine-­diversion dry composting toilets (UDDC) line the solids tank with a naturally sourced medium such as coconut coir or peat moss. As well, most units vent to the outside via a small extraction fan and ductwork.

The two most popular brands of UDDC toilets on the market today are Nature’s Head and Air Head. Both are constructed from ABS plastic and are ­similarly priced ($925 and $1,030, respectively, online) but vary slightly in overall design. We decided on the Air Head for two main reasons. First, the toilet seat is both the same size and shape as our previous marine toilet. We hoped that this would give the user a feel that we were accustomed to. Second, the design of the Air Head makes it possible to remove the liquid tank without opening the solid tank. This thoughtful design feature alone makes it preferable to the competition. Add the smaller footprint and a lack of sharp corners, and the Air Head seemed like the perfect fit for our boat.

The Installation

Installing our Air Head composting toilet was extremely easy. Due to its compact size, we were able to place the unit where our original toilet had been mounted, without modifying any cabinetry. Our only stumbling block was that our traditional ceramic toilet was mounted on a raised pedestal to bring it up to a standard user height, 14 inches from floor to seat. To ­accommodate the built-in solids tank, the Air Head measures 19 ­inches from floor to seat. This “comfort height” is installed in wheelchair-accessible stalls in public bathrooms. When we placed the Air Head on top of our raised pedestal, it measured 25 inches from floor to seat. This elevation made it feel more like you are perching on the edge of the toilet rather than sitting squarely atop it. We investigated removing the pedestal but quickly discovered that it concealed the curve of the hull. Removing it would give us a few inches but not a level surface. We continued with Plan A and waited to see if the toilet height would be a pain in the butt. Literally.

The Air Head toilet is held in place with four simple stainless-steel brackets. Screwed down to the floor, the brackets capture bolts on the sides of both the solid and liquid tanks, which tighten down with simple wingnuts to secure the toilet in place. The only other thing to do is run the ventilation hose and wire in a small fan.

Included with the Air Head is a short length of flexible hose and a ventilation cam, which houses the fan. To avoid cutting more holes in the boat, we chose to repurpose the solar vent in the cabin top, which had failed the season before. It was still necessary to run wires to the 12-volt fan, but with the exterior housing of the solar vent in place, the exhaust fan was weather-protected.

Our installation isn’t ­winning any design awards, but it took less than an hour and didn’t require any structural modifications—a rare bragging point when discussing boat projects. Besides, when it comes to toilets, ­function is more important than aesthetics. After ­installation, there is only one thing you need to do to prep the Air Head for use: Add the coconut coir to the solids tank.

Prepping for Use

Coconut coir is a natural, renewable product made from coconut husks. Sold at garden centers mainly as a growing medium, it is readily ­available worldwide. Coconut coir comes in dry, compressed blocks that are reconstituted with water, making them easy to store. A single 10-by-4-by-2-inch block will fluff up to about 8 liters of mulch. The Air Head comes with one coconut coir brick, but we have found that using one and a half bricks creates a better starting volume. Add too little coconut coir, and there won’t be enough to cover the waste when you “stir” it after use; add too much, and you are taking up valuable space in the tank.

RELATED: Sailing Totem: A Frank Discussion of Marine Heads

When working with a natural product, it’s important to remember that no two bricks will be the same, so it is difficult to state the exact amount of water needed. However, the instructions say that the coconut should be hydrated into a “moist sawdust-like consistency” that resembles “damp crumbly earth” but should not look “muddy.” It is also important to consider that the coconut coir will absorb moisture from the solid waste when the toilet is in use. So, as we found out the hard way, erring on the side of dry is preferable.

Using the Toilet

The Air Head toilet bowl looks strangely small and shallow, and we wondered if it would work as claimed. Not surprisingly, the designers put a lot of thought into the shape and function of the toilet, and I am happy to report that we’ve had no troubles at all after six months of daily use.

Other than remembering to flip the handle to open the trap door to the solids tank before use, and to stir the solids after use using the crank on the side of the tank, the Air Head functions the same as a standard toilet. There is no splash back when you pee, and the urine is neatly diverted into the liquids tank. Similarly, the size of the opening to the solids tank worked fine. No mess, no fuss.

After use, I usually wipe down the basin with a bit of toilet paper and use a little spritz of diluted vinegar every couple of days just to keep things tidy. Between uses, keep the gasketed lid closed. Easy. The only trouble we encountered was a noticeable odor for the first week or so of use. This was not the “pleasant earthy” smell as often described in reviews of composting toilets, but rather a definite manure stink wafting from the vent. Happily, adding a handful of dry coconut coir to the solids tank remedied the issue. Less moisture equals less odor.

Emptying the Toilet

A composting toilet is a closed system that requires the solids and liquids tanks to be emptied regularly. The liquids tank has a small, opaque sight glass at the top, which indicates when it is full. Removing the liquids tank is as simple as backing off two wingnuts and slipping out the tank. A screw-on cap is supplied to ensure a dry run to the dump location. The amount of people on board and frequency of use will dictate how often the tank needs to be emptied.

As expected, urine that sits in a tank for a few days will be a bit smelly, so a good rinse after emptying is necessary. Do not use bleach to clean the liquids tank because chlorine and the ammonia in urine combine to create a very toxic chloramine gas. A simple soap-and-water wash will suffice. After several weeks of use, the tank can accumulate crystalline deposits. Adding a handful of rice or dried beans to the wash cycle is enough to knock off any scale.

I must admit that I wasn’t sure what to expect the first time I prepared to empty the solids tank. The manual describes it as the “highlight of the tour,” and although I think that’s a bit of hyperbole, it was not completely unpleasant. We did get the estimated 60 uses into the tank before it needed to be emptied, but even when full, it did not smell when opened and was more loamy compost than toilet tank.

The seat is removed by easing off four wingnuts, turning the top slightly, and separating the bowl from the solids tank. A flat lid, which locks in the same way, is included to seal the tank for transport. The whole tank is removed from the mounting brackets and taken to a dump site. Because all the solids are organic, they can be dumped into a sewage system or disposed of like a soiled diaper. There is no need to rinse the solids tank. In fact, it is good to have a little organic matter clinging to the sides because this will kick-start the next composting process. As well, Air Head includes a small packet of enzymes that can be added to the solids tank to boost decomposition if things seem slow.

Final Thoughts

We installed the Air Head toilet in February 2020 while we were on the hard in the Philippines. Weeks later, before we had a chance to relaunch, the COVID-19 ­pandemic shut down the world. At press time, I have been stranded in the boatyard, alone and on board, for several months and counting. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate having a private, functioning, odor-free, comfortable toilet that works while the boat is out of the water.

The Air Head is considered a Type III Marine Sanitation Device, which means that we are now compliant with the international IMO MARPOL 73/78 regulations. Between the ease of installation, maintenance-free use, and peace of mind knowing that we can use the head anytime and anywhere, our composting toilet is one of the best upgrades we’ve ever done on board.

Heather Francis is from Nova Scotia, Canada, and has lived and worked on boats throughout the world. Since 2008, she has been sailing aboard Kate, a Newport 41, with her Aussie partner, Steve. They are currently in the Philippines. Follow them at yachtkate.com.

The post Composting Heads for Cruising Sailboats appeared first on Cruising World.

As sailors, it’s romantic to think that our locomotion comes from the wind, but most skippers, when pressed, admit to motoring a fair portion of the time. Like it or not, your boat’s propeller is a key element of the propulsion system, and just as there are myriad considerations involved when ordering sails, decisions abound when selecting the prop that best suits your wallet and sailing plans.

Fixed-Blade Options

As the moniker implies, fixed-blade propellers are typically cast out of an alloy such as manganese bronze or nickel, bronze and aluminum. Individual propeller blades stem from a central hub, which in turn attaches to the sailboat’s prop shaft or saildrive. Depending on the manufacturer, these blades typically are pitched in a way that propels the boat forward or backward when the transmission is engaged. The term “pitch” refers to how far forward or reverse a propeller will theoretically travel through a solid material (picture a screw twisting into a wood block). For example, a prop with a 12-inch pitch will theoretically move through 1 foot of solid material with each full rotation.

Sailors have choices available when buying a fixed-blade propeller, with the biggest variables being the ­diameter, the number of propeller blades, and the pitch. Just as sailboats create “dirty air” that spills off their sails, propeller blades push water against the hull, which then reverberates back (call this “dirty water”). When the transmission is in forward, this dirty water is sent back toward the rudder, which can influence steering. An important rule of thumb for all propeller designs and types is to ensure that the propeller has a tip clearance (the amount of space between a blade’s tip and the hull when the blade is in the 12 o’clock position) that’s at least 10 percent of the length of the prop blade (hub to tip). If you don’t have enough tip clearance, the next step is to spec a smaller-diameter propeller with an extra blade. Fixed props are available with two, three or four blades.

While this can be an easy fix, additional blades create additional drag when the boat is sailing. Because of this, sailors who opt for a fixed-blade prop are typically best served choosing a screw with the fewest number of blades that can properly fit their boat and their engine (see “Choosing Screws,” right). That said, additional blades equate to more power when motoring into a stiff headwind, current or big seas. Additional propeller blades can also accommodate a more powerful engine at a given diameter. These latter points are important if you’re planning on cruising unfamiliar waters and might find yourself negotiating a lee shore under power.

While fixed-blade ­propellers are strong, simple, relatively inexpensive, and ­easier to have repaired in remote locales, they do affect sailing performance. Moreover, they’re more likely to foul a lobster pot or other fishing gear than a folding prop when the boat is sailing. If you care about sailing performance, especially in the light stuff, or if you’re planning a long-distance cruise, purchasing a folding or feathering prop is a wise investment. But if you’re seeking maximum power or punch for your buck, and you sail on breezy waters such as San Francisco Bay, where extra drag isn’t a huge concern, a fixed-blade prop could be the way to go.

Folding Propellers

Folding propellers employ a series of gears (situated around the prop’s central hub and on the inboard end of each prop blade) and centrifugal force to open when the engine’s transmission is engaged. The slipstream action of the passing water acts to fold them closed when sailing, and their gear mechanisms hold the blades in their closed position even in light airs. As with fixed-blade props, sailors can choose between models that feature two, three or four blades. Unlike fixed-blade props, however, folding propellers create far less drag when the boat is sailing.

“For the same diameter and number of blades, folding propellers have 85 to 100 percent less drag than a fixed prop, depending on the fixed propeller’s blade area and the folding propeller’s make and model,” says Geoff Prior, owner of AB Marine, the Newport, Rhode Island-based importer and distributor for Gori folding props and AutoProp, Variprofile, and Variprop feathering propellers. “Geared folding propellers stay closed or folded when the boat is sailing, so a blade cannot drop down to be exposed to the water flow, and does not catch lines and weeds like fixed and feathering propellers can.”

Others agree. “Most sailboats will gain 0.5 to even 1 knot of speed by using a low-drag folding propeller,” says Keld Willberg, Flexofold’s general manager. “Many boat owners don’t look just at the speed gains, but also the ability to sail in very light wind.” Also, he says, when tacking, a boat that’s equipped with a low-drag prop won’t lose as much momentum.

This latter point is critical to anyone who sails in places with typically light breeze. “The folding propeller’s drag reduction and increased sailing speeds produce less turbulence over the rudder, enabling you to point higher, steer easier and more precisely, and tack and jibe the boat easier,” Prior says. “The biggest speed difference is in light or medium air and with clean water flow over the rudder—the boat is a lot more responsive, especially when fine sailing on the wind.”

One important consideration when selecting a folding prop is ensuring that your boat can physically accommodate the length of the prop when it’s folded. This is especially important on full-keel boats that have an aperture between the keel and rudder. For anyone who cruises with a saildrive(s), Prior advises that saildrive propellers must be approved for use by the saildrive’s manufacturer to ensure that the prop is electrically isolated from the saildrive’s leg and shaft; also the prop’s hub must incorporate a rubberized bushing to absorb shock and inertia, as well as an easily changed and ­streamlined anode.

As with all props, ­selecting the diameter, number of blades, and pitch of the propeller are all key decisions. “Diameter is the single most critical factor in determining the amount of power that a propeller absorbs and transmits into the water,” Prior says. “It’s the most important single factor in determining the amount of thrust delivered. The larger the diameter, the greater the efficiency. A small increase in diameter dramatically increases thrust and torque load on the engine and shaft.”

Blade count is also critical, but Willberg cautions that it’s overly simplistic to think that additional blades equate to additional power (see “Calling the Pitch,” right). “What ­matters is to get the right combination of blade area and pitch for the engine and gear box,” he says. “On flat water, a two-blade propeller can be just as efficient or even slightly better than a three-blade. However, when motoring against wind and waves, and when maneuvering, you get more power from a ­three-blade prop.”

Blade shape also matters. “Propellers with flat, planar blades are like a paddle,” Prior says. “The flat shape is not ­efficient at producing thrust because a flat blade is overloaded at the tip and underloaded at the blade base, whereas a fully shaped airfoil blade shape has a constant loading over its whole surface.” Much like fixed-blade props, most folding propellers employ an efficient blade shape, while feathering props use flatter and more ­planar-shaped blades.

One drawback of most (but not all) folding props emerges when the transmission is put into reverse. “In reverse, the suction side is on the back or aft side of a blade, and with the typical folding propeller design, the blades are trying to close in reverse, giving low thrust and lots of prop walk,” says Prior, who added that Gori’s three-blade prop presents identical leading-blade edges in both forward and reverse, negating this issue. Willberg advises that folding props require slightly different operation than fixed-blade or feathering props to ensure that they stay open. “For more stopping and reverse power, it’s just a matter of giving more revs on the throttle,” he says.

RELATED: Understanding Your Sailboat Propellers

As with all props, folding propellers must be kept clean of marine growth, and anodes must be regularly changed to ensure cathodic protection. “One millimeter of growth on a blade and your propeller loses approximately 12 percent efficiency,” Prior says, adding that this applies to any make, model or design. And, he notes, “folding propellers are water-lubricated, so they do not need to be greased.”

The final consideration is cost. Folding props are roughly four to six times more expensive than a fixed-blade propeller for a given diameter and blade count. While this is a big difference, the gains are huge, and—for bluewater cruisers—can translate to ­significantly faster passage times (potentially measured in days) and happier crews.

Feathering Propellers

As do folding propellers, feathering props greatly reduce drag when the boat is sailing; however, the way that they achieve this gain is significantly different. Moreover, the physics behind how the prop transitions from its sailing mode to motoring mode is also different.

Feathering props are available with two-, three-, four- and five-blade configurations. A central hub attaches to the prop shaft or a saildrive, and it features a series of internal beveled gears. Geared propeller blades attach to the hub and rotate through 180 degrees, depending on if the transmission is in forward or reverse (more on this later); this articulation is governed by machined stops inside the hub that prevent the blades from overrotating. When the transmission is engaged, the blades present their broad sides to the slipstream, but when the boat is under sail, the blades rotate 90 degrees to align with the flow of the water.

“Feathering props work off torque from the shaft or saildrive,” says Fred Hutchison, at PYI, which distributes Max-Prop feathering propellers. Because feathering props use torque—not centrifugal force—to open, it’s “instantaneous,” says Hutchison, who points to this as the design’s biggest advantage. “It takes a feathering prop only three-quarters of a turn to go from full forward to full reverse. In that time, the blades rotate 180 degrees, and it doesn’t generate much shock load.”

Prior adds, “In the sailing position, the water flow turns the blades to the feathered position when the engine is off for vastly reduced drag.” He estimates that this drag reduction is approximately 85 percent compared with fixed-blade props.

As previously mentioned, feathering-prop blades rotate through 180 degrees, which is a big advantage when operating in reverse compared with most folding props. “A feathering propeller gives reverse thrust with the same efficiency as in forward, as the leading blade edge in forward is turned 180 degrees, and without prop walk,” Prior says.

Another advantage of feathering props for boats with full keels or with tightly spaced skegs or rudders is that they “can fit in a small aperture as they have shorter overall lengths compared to folding propellers, which have a greater length when folded,” Prior says. “If there is a diameter constraint, the feathering prop can easily be designed and built with a higher pitch to make up for the loss of diameter and blade area.”

Most feathering props are machined out of a nickel, bronze and aluminum alloy, which, Hutchison says, makes them easy to repair. Unlike fixed or folding ­propellers, feathering propellers employ flat-shaped blades to reduce drag when the boat is sailing. “Feathering propeller blades are foiled and aren’t as efficient as the helical twist found on most fixed-blade or folding props,” Hutchison says, adding that manufacturers compensate for this less-efficient shape by increasing each blade’s surface area. “Blade surface area and shape make a big difference in how efficient it is,” he says. “No low-drag prop will be as efficient under power as a fixed-blade propeller.”

Lobster pots and fishing nets are common concerns when operating under auxiliary power, and feathering props are not snag-proof. “When motoring, feathering props are the same as fixed-blade and folding propellers,” Hutchison advises. “But when sailing, a folding propeller has less of a chance of catching a pot or fishing net than a fixed-blade or feathering propeller.” This is a consideration for anyone who cruises extensively in, say, Maine or in heavily fished waters off the West Coast.

As with all propellers, feathering props require basic care and maintenance to ensure their efficiency and the engine’s longevity. This starts with a properly spec’d and regularly refreshed anode, and the prop blades must be kept clean.

Unlike folding props, which typically use exposed self-­lubricating gears, the internal gears of feathering propellers need to be greased annually. While this adds an item to an owner’s yearly to-do list, Hutchison says that this can be tackled by a diver.

Finally, while feathering props are a great upgrade, they don’t come cheap. “Feathering props are more expensive than folding props,” says Hutchison, who ­advises that a feathering prop is roughly 10 to 15 percent more ­expensive than a folding prop with the same blade count and a ­comparable diameter. “This is primarily because of ­machining costs,” he says.

David Schmidt is CW’s electronics editor and also writes about topics ranging from sailing gear to environmental issues from his home in Bellingham, Washington.

Choosing Screws

Choosing the right propeller is complex, but the most important variables for selecting the correct prop are your boat’s make, model, LOA and displacement, the engine’s horsepower rating and its maximum rpm, as well as the transmission’s reduction ratio. While most of this information is easily ascertained, determining the reduction ratio can be challenging. But, Prior says, “the best method to get the actual ratio is to use your cellphone camera and take a photo of the plate on the transmission,” adding that this beats hanging upside down and trying to read this information using a mirror and flashlight. For the DIYer, online calculators exist that can help crunch the numbers. “After that, it gets into the art,” Hutchison says. His advice: Ask an expert.

Calling the Pitch

Unlike fixed-blade propellers, feathering and folding propellers are often designed so that the pitch can be adjusted, perchance it doesn’t perfectly match your vessel, engine and transmission right out of the box. Depending on the prop, this adjustment is typically made by changing a screw(s) or swapping out the prop blades. These adjustments can usually be done by a diver while the boat is in the water. Some general rules of thumb as to when to change the pitch involve engine rpm: If the prop doesn’t meet the engine’s ideal rpm, the blade’s angle needs to be reduced; conversely, if the prop is exceeding the engine’s rpm metrics, the blade’s angle of attack needs to be increased. As a cautionary note, overpitching a propeller can cause the engine to overheat, and it can also lead to injector-choking problems and create excessive internal engine pressure, so be sure to stay within the engine ­manufacturer’s lines.

Vendor Information

EWOL: ewoltech.com, 410-317-8104; from $2,120

Flexofold: flexofold.com, 781-797-0809; from $980

GORI: gori-propeller.com, 401-847-7960; from $650

J Prop: betamarinenc.com, 252-249-2473; from $2,500

Kiwiprop: kiwiprops.co.nz, 877-549-4872; from $1,350

Max-Prop: pyiinc.com, 425-355-3669; from $1,900

Michigan Wheel: ­miwheel.com, 800-369-4335; from $550

Variprofile: spw-gmbh.de, 401-847-7960; from $800

Variprop: spw-gmbh.de, 401-847-7960; from $1,200

Volvo: volvopenta.us, 800-522-1959; call for pricing

The post Choosing the Proper Sailboat Prop appeared first on Cruising World.

Of the many hats cruisers must wear, one is sanitation engineer—we often talk sh*t. At least we’re a mature enough bunch to enjoy a nice sunset while diving deep into the details of a clogged holding tank or failed macerator pump. When nature calls, a tutorial on best practices with the sundowner host boat’s toilet is assumed—even if it’s a new model WonderPooper 2000. Where does the toilet paper go (or not go)? Is it a wet or dry bowl flush?

“Welcome aboard, let me demonstrate how the toilet works!” Not the usual welcome when visiting a home on land, and not far from the truth afloat. And STILL it can be problematic; an experienced cruiser left one of our heads pumping to overflow, literally running crap through the main cabin, during sundowners on Totem in Madagascar.

Marine toilets are…special. They even get a different name: the head. Their use, maintenance, and problems are different than land heads, I mean toilets. The unpleasant business of dealing with them when things aren’t flowing is a leveler among most cruising boats.

Just like bears poop in the woods, and cruisers poop in the ocean. Part of Cruising and Pooping 101 is acknowledging the unpleasant truth that almost all of us are putting blackwater overboard. Yes, blackwater is the euphemism for the stuff that’s going down the toilet. Pumpout services are easy to find in some countries, we’re sure—we just haven’t cruised through many of them. Or any of them? Outside of the USA, I cannot think of any country where we had easy and dependable access to a holding tank pumpout. The classic situation was regulation in Australia requiring use of a pumpout facility, and then having exactly ONE available along thousands of miles of Queensland coastline.

Dealing with Poop

This means, of course, like so much in cruising—ya gotta deal with sh*t on your own. Here on the Pacific side of Mexico, we can think of only a few pumpout stations along these few thousand miles of coastline—and big gaps between them. Nobody has a holding tank big enough for the gaps! What do you do? The same thing as in just about every other country we’ve cruised: do what you have to. Don’t be gross. Be as respectful as you can to neighbors, and the public swimming pool you float in, and source of watermaker water lapping against your head’s seacock.

Laws Governing the Poop

In the USA, the general EPA rule is that it’s illegal for recreational boats to discharge raw or insufficiently treated sewage within three miles from shore, with a startling number of stricter and no-discharge zones. Using that distance as a rule of thumb, it seems like the burden of putting a few miles between yourself and shore to empty a holding tank isn’t a big deal. And most of the time—it’s not.

Why do these rules matter—it’s just organic stuff, right? Don’t fish eat poop?

Well, sewage in water makes it icky not for the obvious reasons, but because it increases nutrient levels, alters pH, and can affect oxygen levels. So there’s a whole host of marine life impacted, not just the irate neighbor who didn’t want to swim by a snickers bar.

Click to access the live map from the EPA.

Holding Tanks

Considering travel distance to where you can courteously pump out assumes the boat has a holding tank, of course. And while a lot of boats do, many don’t. They may have been built when it wasn’t required. They may have been removed by a prior owner. If this is troubling, forget you just read the last two sentences—and try not to think about it when swimming in an anchorage. Hopefully, it’s not a big deal to monitor a holding tank. But sometimes it is a bit of a bigger deal. If the holding tank gets full (oops!) and there’s no alternative, there might be some nearer-to-shore overboarding taking place. And then those boats without a holding tank…

Composting Heads

How about not putting sewage over the side at all? That’s theoretically a benefit of composting heads. Waste is managed in situ, then disposed of later. They aren’t odor-free (we’ve visited enough boats using this method) but do tend to be less smelly. Cruisers with conventional heads would groan that these simpler beasts with fewer plumbing components to maintain or fail.

The waste does have to be disposed of eventually, and it’s not actually compost made in a composting toilet; that process takes more time. It’s just not “hazardous” waste any more, according to EPA standards. But it is still waste, a step up from a diaper (and the cocktail of other ingredients and plastic involved). Shoreside bathroom facilities, or even a porta potty, are where it should be dumped.

In places like the Florida Keys, where there’s a 12-mile distance required for any sewage overboard from recreational boats, there is ready access on shore to toilet or porta-potty facilities to dump your poop. It’s a fantastic solution for this sensitive marine park and has helped keep waters healthy and beautiful.

Do you think there’s a shoreside porta potty at the anchorage you’ll first hit in French Polynesia? No, and probably not the next few dozen anchorages either. So yes, the boats with composting heads are probably overboarding their poop, too, and somewhat negating the theoretical benefit. Longer-distance cruisers also have to source composting medium, the product added to the tank that the poop sits in to decompose a bit. No problem when Home Depot is in range, or Amazon delivers the shrink-wrapped coir biscuits. But Home Depot? Amazon? This does not describe most of the cruising world we’ve been in! Even in relatively well-connected/supplied Mexico, the calls for help in sourcing medium for a composting head crop up often enough in the community. Foraged solutions for the medium are prone to be buggy…no thanks.

Another way to treat sewage on board is with a product called Lectrasan. It’s a small tank that uses chlorine and electricity to zap the bacteria and make it passable by EPA standards to send directly overboard (but still not OK for use in no-discharge areas, because—they discharge). It’s probably a great option for liveaboards who have access to consumables / repair services / replacements, but got mixed reviews from long-term cruisers (in discussion during sundowners of course).

From Manual to Electric: The Poop on Totem

We have two heads. When we bought Totem, one was an electric Vacuflush that pumped into a holding tank. The other, a Jabsco manual pump model pumped overboard and leaked worse than Jamie’s first boat. At the time we subscribed to the belief that manual was better (less to break/repair). But it turned out that our younger children didn’t have the muscle to pump out the manual toilet. Calls for “can you flush my doo doo?” got old, fast! We decided that the electric toilet would stay; the macerator switch is labeled Entertainment Center on our electrical panel. The other toilet was replaced with a manual Lavac, and routed overboard—when allowed, of course. The combination has worked well for us in a few ways. A holding tank to, well, hold The Goods until there’s an appropriate time/place to pump over, and a direct-over for when that’s not necessary. And because every cruiser seems to have plumbing issues—having a second head means the inevitable backup isn’t a bucket.

If you followed our social media posts while refitting in 2019, you’ll remember one of our favorite upgrades was an electric toilet in the aft head—a Tecma Nano ECO model (the thrill of the first flush was a family affair! Cruising, even more exciting than you imagined…). Why did we replace the Lavac? In a word, maintenance. The joker valve and flap valve (which directs the flow of poop) are flimsy and quickly deform from mineral buildup, even with the frequent addition of vinegar. Replacement parts were relatively easy to install, once you scrape away mineral build up and urine/poop residue (good times! Living the dream!), but the parts kit was expensive and only a few of items were needed. And as our kids grew, and built substantial muscle mass enough to pump the manual toilet without assistance, they became so strong as to crack the plastic pump housing. Twice! Oh, and the seawater flush can smell like rotten eggs from decomposing marine critters.

With a year-plus on the Tecma head, we’re really pleased. In fact—with some costly parts nearing end of life on the Vacuflush, we’re planning to replace it with—yes, another Tecma. Zero maintenance (so far), only about one liter of fresh water per flush, no smell with fresh water… and push-button simple is a LOT easier to explain to visitors. Sundowner conversations got one notch less awkward.

We’re currently up in the USA, on a round of visits to family. Today we’re gazing out at Shaw Island from Friday Harbor, on a postcard-perfect day in the San Juan islands. We arrived yesterday on the ferry from Anacortes, and my aunt Julie welcomed us into her home and then explained in great detail the operation of the guest toilet. We know all about the septic system, the toilet paper protocol, and have a laminated sheet to reference in case we forget. The toilet wasn’t a WonderPooper 2002, but guess maybe we aren’t so different, after all!

TOTEM TALKS

Coming back this weekend! ‘Tis the season: with hurricane season spiking up, we’ll talk about how cruisers cope and stay safe.

When: Sunday, Jul 25, 3:00 pm Pacific Time

Register

Registrants will be sent a confirmation email with a link to join the session; as always, we’ll record it to share later if the time doesn’t work for you. And as always, feel free to send questions in advance – happy to help in particular situations, too.

Historical tracks by month in the Caribbean

ICYMI

We were in the Financial Times last week! 

They have a front-of-section piece on #boatlife, and if this isn’t acknowledgement that the cruising life has nudged into mainstream acceptance, I don’t know what is. And if that means more people get a peek into this fantastic world of life afloat, we’re calling it a win!

The post Sailing Totem: A Frank Discussion of Marine Heads appeared first on Cruising World.

“It’s the world flattest anchorage!” Jamie quips from Totem’s main cabin. We’re propped on jackstands in the shipyard, and truly, it is so flat! On our last night afloat, I savored every lick of water whispering through the hull. It’s an unnatural feeling not to have that gentle movement, that soundtrack of life on the water.

Flat it may be; easy living it is not. Life on the hard can be, well, hard. The ladder to get on board, the inconvenience of having not quite normal use of water and holding tanks, our reluctance to use the yard’s community shower/toilet facilities before vaccinations kicked in. But we can deal with all of that, and we have—over six haulouts. Even when Puerto Peñasco hit the scorcher weeks of summer (did it ever go below 100°F from August until nearly the end of September? I’m not sure it did), we’ve always stayed on board while in the boatyard…until now. We have just become CLODS—Cruisers Living On Dirt.

Home sweet apartment

I’m writing this from an actual desk in an actual one-bedroom flat on a quiet street a short walk from Totem. It’s quite surreal. We’re still getting our land legs. Our temporary home is in a compound belonging to a family who has built out a number of informal units to let.

It’s an extension of this already social yard: every unit is occupied by another cruiser doing work at nearby Cabrales Boatyard! Passing along apartments here, cruiser to cruiser, has become almost a word of mouth tradition. We all appreciate the local-style ambiance: trees surrounding the compound mean our mornings are garnished with birdsong. In the evening we have dinner on the porch, listening to neighborhood children playing soccer on the sand road that runs to the east.

Adjusting to land

The first sign that we were, well, fish out of water was when we moved furniture around (comes with! Bonus!). Mairen used the descriptors fore and aft, and inboard and outboard, to give directions. We did have a discussion and determine that there wasn’t a way to have port and starboard sides of the apartment.

Then there are all the crazy new appliances. A few days in, Siobhan made chocolate chip cookies. (Tangent: it turns out that land ovens actually get really hot, and they do it really fast… cue pizza night!) She called from the galley, I mean kitchen, to say the process would have to wait a while so the butter could soften. I pointed out the miraculous properties of the microwave on the counter, and commenced the ancient mother/daughter ritual of transferring this valuable knowledge.

Some changes are easier to make! We don’t have to call a pumpout truck. There are a couple of air conditioners we’ll be especially grateful for soon. The freezer freezes things (laugh, sure, but we haven’t been able to keep ice cream hard since ever)! We will enjoy the coffeemaker and toaster, but do fine without them later too.

Why we’re moving ashore

It wasn’t necessary before—why now? We have plans that require turning portions of not just the exterior, but the interior of Totem into a workzone: it’s not really habitable. And the weather…  have I mentioned the weeks over 100°F?  One of my favorite sayings in life is “misery is optional,” and I think that might just qualify. That 2019 summer saw heat index routinely 110°+. It’s really nice to retreat to a clean, cool abode.

The last few nights we were on board, dust grinding fiberglass on the transom as Jamie cut in the swim steps had wafted through those mysterious routes air finds inside and settled onto our bedding. No. Just, no. I am OK with a lot of things, sleeping in fiberglass dust isn’t one of them, and we moved just in time to keep the happy factor at a reasonable level on board.

In other news

On the shortlist of things to catch up on once we settled into Puerto Peñasco were some routine checkups. Siobhan was interested in contacts and Jamie felt his prescription was changing, so we trundled up to get eye exams with more sophisticated equipment than we’d had locally before.

Surprise: Jamie’s left eye had a cataract! Double whammy: at a surgical consult a week later, it turns out both his eyes have posterior cataracts. WELL THEN. Add cataract surgery to the fun and games on Jamie’s docket. We’re proceeding with surgery ASAP and he’s excited about the prospect of clearer vision.

An ophthalmologist/cruiser friend pointed out that being relatively young for this diagnosis (a good two decades younger than the average age for cataract surgery in the US) means Jamie’s eyes should be easier to operate on. And I’ll call the circumstance of timing fortunate, too. Thanks to demographics, nearby Arizona has a saturated market for ophthalmology services. That means a lot of options when researching for a quality surgeon, and competitive rates (it’s all out of pocket. Ouch. And we’ll deal, as always.)

Maybe now the kids will wear sunglasses? Maybe.

Learning opportunities: routing and sails

Routing fundamentals. planning from the big picture to passages, with considerations for better efficiency and comfort along the way. Jamie and I are delivering this for the Salty Dawg Sailing Association; register for Route Planning Strategies – A Cruisers Perspective on their website ($12 for non-SDSA members).

Sails for cruising. Last weekend we held our latest TOTEM TALKS, and Jamie held forth on his area of expertise: sails! amie has a unique blend of experience as a professional sailmaker… who took his proficiency cruising, and learned a lot about how well-intentioned sailmakers sometimes miss particular needs cruisers have. The replay is now online! Listen in to gain no-nonsense insight on sails for cruisers.

The post Sailing Totem: Cruiser Speak—The CLODs appeared first on Cruising World.

It’s a scenario I encounter with alarming regularity: electrical cabling routed in ways it was never meant to be. I’ve seen examples through sharp cutouts in bulkheads, over engine bell housings, around motor-mount brackets, through bilge water…the examples are nearly endless.

Achieving reliability in a marine electrical system is no small feat. The environment is obviously harsh, wet, salty, vibration-prone and, at times, bone-jarring. Add to that temperature extremes caused by the seasons and engine heat, and you have the makings of a perfect storm of electrical unreliability. However, following just a few good wiring practices can eliminate the vast majority of electrical failures and calamities.

Start by getting into the casual habit of paying attention to wiring every time you encounter it: in cabinets, the engine compartment, sail lockers, bilges and, of course, behind and adjacent to the electrical panel itself. You must be mindful of AC power sources such as shore power, gensets and inverters; if any of these are energized or running, unless you know for sure otherwise, then assume every exposed terminal is live AC 120-volt power. Using a tool such as a noncontact AC-voltage detector (always test it first on a known, live AC source before relying on it to alert you to an unknown AC source) will enable you to determine if wiring is energized.

However, even then you must use caution because an inverter that is in sleep mode and producing no power can generate electrocution potential if you touch an energized terminal.

The only way to be sure an inverter cannot harm you is to disconnect it from its DC power source, either with a disconnect switch (all inverter DC positive cables should be switched for this reason, and to deenergize in the event of a fire) or by removing its fuse. While 12- and 24-volt DC power won’t electrocute you, you can cause a short circuit, which could lead to a fire. Remove all metallic jewelry and watches before working around any electrical connections, even if you believe them to be dead.

Read more from Steve D’Antonio: Monthly Maintenance

Look for wires that lack support; American Boat and Yacht Council standards call for all wires to be supported at least every 18 inches. Look for wires that enter metallic chassis or junction boxes that lack strain relief and chafe protection, often known as cord grips. If you can pull on a wire that enters the chassis of a battery charger or inverter, for example, and impart strain on the connection within, that’s a violation of the standard, and an invitation to a failure.

Check ring terminals wherever you encounter them, and make sure the screw that supports them is tight; if you can twist the terminal under the screw head, it’s too loose. Ring terminals should be installed in size order: largest first, then successively smaller, and no more than four per screw or stud. Of course, if you see any green crustiness, then that is clearly a problem as well.

With one exception, every energized wire (i.e., DC positive or AC “hot”) must be protected by a fuse or circuit breakers. These overcurrent-protection devices have one primary mission: to protect the wire in the event of a short. Without them, a short circuit would cause the wire to rapidly overheat, and if it’s adjacent to something flammable—like almost everything we use to build boats, including fiberglass, timber and fabric—it could lead to a fire.

The one exception to the overcurrent-protection rule is the positive cable that supplies the engine starter. In an effort to avoid nuisance-tripping in the event of a weak battery (low battery voltage induces high current flow), ABYC standards exempt this cable from overcurrent-protection guidelines.

However, this means that the threshold for protection of this cable is necessarily higher, thus every inch of it should be carefully routed to prevent chafe or damage. And above all else, no part of this cable can be allowed to make contact with any part of the engine, other than the starter’s positive post. For an extra measure of protection, consider adding a split loom sheath to this cable for its entire length, which will afford it increased protection.

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting (stevedmarineconsulting.com).

The post The Dos and Don’ts of Boat Wiring appeared first on Cruising World.

Most boat owners would surely agree that an anchor/deck-wash system would be a useful addition to their boat’s equipment. If they anchored frequently anywhere in the murky waters of Florida’s Intracoastal Waterway, they would consider it absolutely essential. The ICW runs up the Eastern Seaboard as far as Chesapeake Bay, and is a playground for boats of every shape and size. It is well-protected from the Atlantic Ocean by a string of sometimes quite large barrier islands, many hosting waterfront towns yet with outlets every so often to the ocean.

In many areas along the ICW, the bottom is mostly sedentary thick black mud that an anchor must penetrate to find better holding beneath. Once an anchor digs in, it usually holds well; the trouble is, upon weighing it, half the bottom usually comes up, glued to the chain and anchor, in the form of a smelly oozing sludge over a layer of hard clay.

Even when wet, this ­concrete-like substance is very difficult to clean off an anchor; if left to dry, it’s practically impossible to remove from the chain. I’ve seen people trying to poke it off their anchor with a boat hook, or dipping a deck brush in the water and then valiantly attempting to wash the black crud off their chain and foredeck. My schooner, Britannia, has a bowsprit, and the anchor comes up beneath it, so it’s impossible to wash with either method. To clean the anchor, I would dangle it in the bow wake as we motored away, but that’s not advisable if you have a short bow roller because the anchor will bump against the bow. I would often pile the dirty chain on deck, then swill it with buckets of water before stowing it.

All of this paraphernalia rather removed the pleasure of getting underway—or rather, it used to, until I built myself a great deck-wash system.

You can buy complete ­deck-wash kits from ­chandleries and online. They cost anywhere from about $200 to $500, depending on pump pressure and whatever ancillary equipment they include, such as hoses, a nozzle, a filter, pipe fittings, etc. They are primarily meant to be hard-mounted below deck, with pipes or hoses from a seacock or other seawater source to a pump, then to a deck outlet fitting, normally near the bow, to which is attached a water hose and nozzle. These kits don’t usually include connecting pipework or electrical wiring, which adds to the cost of installation.

A powerful deck-wash system is highly effective for cleaning a dirty anchor and chain rode, ensuring it passes into the chain locker in a reasonably unsoiled and unsmelly condition.

Provided your hose is long enough, it can also double as an actual deck wash—but that is all it does. A fixed system cannot be used to pump rainwater out of a dinghy, or as an additional bilge pump, or to wash a bilge, or any other job for which a powerful water jet would be useful. To wash a deck—as opposed to simply cleaning ground tackle—a much longer hose is usually needed. In other words, a fixed system is not very versatile, with few other uses. The deck wash I built can be used for all these functions, and anything else you need to pump water onto or out of, including out of your boat or dinghy.

Furthermore, the equipment and assembly is simplicity itself, consisting of only a pressure pump and filter, two lengths of regular garden hose—one with a weight on the end to keep it underwater—and a hand nozzle. Operation is equally simple. The inlet hose is just hung anywhere over the side into the water, and the pump connects to a battery. The pump then sucks up seawater and shoots a powerful jet of water through the hand nozzle.

The main item, of course, is the pump, and there are many on the market to suit different budgets and pressure needs. The only communal requirements are: The pump should be self-activating (also called an on-demand pump); that is, it starts and stops when pressure changes in the line as the hand nozzle is opened and closed. This makes the operation semiautomatic and saves the need for an on/off switch. The pump must also be self-priming and with adequate lifting capacity from below the waterline, because if it is not powerful enough to suck up water, it obviously won’t work. Diaphragm pumps are preferable to impeller pumps because they are able to run dry, enabling the lines to be pumped empty after use for stowage. Also, unlike an impeller pump, a diaphragm pump has no “kick” as it starts up, which means it won’t fall over or roll off wherever you place it. On-demand deck-wash pumps are similar to those used for pressurizing freshwater systems, sink faucets and showers.

After looking at many pump specifications, I decided on the Aqua-Jet WD 5.2 washdown pump, from Johnson Pump. This is one of the more powerful pumps available, with 70 psi (about the same as a house), and it easily sucks water up my boat’s 4-foot freeboard. The pump has a detachable, easy-to-clean filter, which saves having to buy a separate in-line one. The filter also swivels, allowing the outlet hose to point forward or back, making it easier to use.

Included with the pump is a hand nozzle, which can be locked in the open position. The nozzle fits on the hose with a push fitting, which is useful because you don’t have to unscrew anything when you need to remove it for a continuous flow, as when emptying a dinghy, or as an extra bilge pump. There are four large rubber feet under the base plate, so this pump can be placed anywhere on deck with little fear of it damaging anything. The pump comes with fittings for 1⁄2-inch and 5⁄8-inch water hoses, but it is best to use the larger size (which has some 60 percent greater volume) to produce the maximum water jet. This pump is available from most marine suppliers, and found online for about $140 (part No. 10-13407-07 for 12 volts).

I bought an inexpensive 5⁄8-inch garden hose, which I cut into 6-foot and 9-foot lengths, and attached them to the pump fitting with clamp-type hose fittings. Six feet is long enough to easily hang over the side of my boat. To keep the end underwater, I weighted it with two brass fittings from my local hardware store. One has a 5⁄8-inch barb for the hose, and a 3⁄4-inch NPT thread, onto which I screwed another brass nut for added weight.

For power, I found a couple of crocodile clips, like those used on car jumper cables, at my local auto-parts store; I then soldered them to a long-enough 14 AWG wire to reach any of my 12-volt batteries. Do not be tempted to use a cigarette-lighter receptacle that you might have in your cockpit. They can get quite warm and shouldn’t be used for the ­continuous current draw of these powerful pumps, which for the Johnson 12-volt unit is 15 amps on startup. An in-line fuse, with amperage as rated by the pump-motor ­manufacturer, should be installed within a few feet of the battery hookup, just to be safe.

After hanging the inlet hose over the side and clipping on the power cord, the pump hums, but nothing else happens—until the hand nozzle is squeezed, whereupon the pump starts sucking water through the hoses and delivers an incredibly powerful 15-foot-long jet, which will knock the muck off any anchor and chain. The long-reaching jet enables you to hit the chain immediately as it comes out of the water, and if you have an electric windlass, you can bring up the chain as quickly as you like. If the system becomes clogged with sucked-up debris, the filter is easily unscrewed and cleaned. The hoses can also be unclipped from the pump by hand with the quick-release connectors to empty them for storage.

With the nozzle fitted, the pump empties a 5-gallon ­bucket in just under three minutes; without the nozzle, it takes about 90 seconds.

When I want to wash any part of the actual deck, I just drop the hose over either side, connect the power, and fire away. Whenever my dinghy gets full of rainwater, I simply drop the end of the intake hose into the boat and pump it dry in just a few minutes, all from on deck, which beats climbing into the waterlogged dinghy with a hand bailer any day. I found another use as well: to empty an ornamental fountain in my backyard, which I could never get completely empty with a small bailer.

This is a deceptively simple setup that works amazingly well. Its versatility adapts to many purposes, yet it’s cheaper than a kit with a pump of comparable power. That’s something of a rarity in the marine-equipment business nowadays, don’t you think?

DIY warrior Roger Hughes frequently writes for CW about his upgrade projects aboard his schooner, Britannia.

The post How to Install a Deck-Wash System appeared first on Cruising World.

This story originally appeared on Sailing Totem.

Stepping off the bow while Totem hung in the Travelift at Cabrales Boatyard’s slipway, Jamie and I wondered to each other how Totem’s bottom would look once we could step back and look. We’re three years into our Coppercoat application. It’s worked for us, but we had just spent more than three months sitting in a high-growth area. Parked in Santa Rosalia, the dirty harbor and cold water left us uninterested in jumping in to clean.

Coppercoat myths or misconceptions

Stepping back: our article in the recent issue of Cruising World – now online! – breaks down a number of the myths that exist around using this particular type of antifouling (don’t call it paint. It’s epoxy). We’ve been happy with it, but for some reason it’s…controversial? Misunderstood? It seems to spark opinions, at any rate. To understand the range of experiences, I spoke at length to a number of cruisers to try and get a handle on the critical success factors, and why it worked for some but not others.

The details are in that article linked above. The short version: there are two main factors in a happy outcome. First, getting it applied correctly, which isn’t as simple as slapping on fresh paint – that includes exposing the suspended copper, too. We outlined the step-by-step process on Totem. Second, the expectations from boat owners on how it works (it’s not magical! Less frequent, easier cleaning… not zero cleaning).

Ultimately, the DIYers tend to be happier campers. Nobody cares about getting it right as much as you do! We’re also more likely to be ready to pop into the water to wipe down slime. OK, except when it’s cold and we’re stuck in a dirty harbor… this was not a banner winter for our crew. Thus the touch of trepidation we had before getting a look at the bottom upon last month’s haul.

How Totem’s Coppercoat fared

Jamie and I stepped back from the Travelift, and checked out Totem’s bottom. The first look left us slightly dismayed; from a distance, we could see some three-dimensional striation on the hull. We looked at each other, shrugged, and got on with other tasks. To understand the range of experiences, I spoke at length to a number of cruisers to try and get a handle on the critical success factors, and why it worked for some but not others – although the story told is ours.

Realizing key benefits

Coppercoat has been a big win for us, and getting into our third year of cruising in a high-growth area gives us confidence in the results. We’re experiencing most of the major benefits first hand (hauling again is for other reasons!):

Cleaning less often. At first this was deliberate. We wanted to observe the rate and type of growth first hand. Now we know how much less cleaning is needed, at least in Pacific Mexico. It’s not just less frequently needed (about monthly), it’s mostly soft, and even if there’s some hard growth—cleaning is dramatically easier with the hard epoxy bottom compared to conventional paint.

Being kinder to the environment. This is such a big win, and where we value Coppercoat most: how it has allowed us to be kinder and gentler to the marine environment around us. I’m so happy about this!

Hauling less frequently. One of the real assets of Coppercoat is not needing to haul as often to repaint the bottom. Oops! We’ve hauled anyway, but not because we had to address bottom paint.

Is Coppercoat expensive?

There was no difference in cost for us to apply Coppercoat, in comparison to the second-choice hard paint we had picked out as a Plan B. But we had the benefit of starting from a bare hull. Bottom preparation can be extensive (we wrote about ours in detail), and it’s both important and necessary: this why people complain about the cost of Coppercoat. So the cost isn’t Coppercoat; it’s the level of prep you may (or may not) be required to do.

Four other Coppercoat stories

In preparing for the article in Cruising World, I spoke I spoke with a number of folks who shared their experiences. Here are a few that didn’t make it into the final piece; each highlights a different aspect of the antifouling to consider.

Complexity: overseas sourcing

Jim and Barbara Cole took a cue from evolving regulations when deciding what to put on their Hallberg-Rassy Complexity’s bottom in Malaysia. Standards were bending towards more environmentally friendly rules: they looked for a paint that complied with strict California law. While researching copper leaching data, Barbara learned that Coppercoat exceeded the California standards by a factor of 10!

Their international application had a few hiccups as they pieced together supplies. “The rollers that were available for the application had too long of a nap. This left a lot of texture in the finished surface. I spent many days sanding off precious copper. If I had it to do over again, I would seriously consider hiring the local spray painter to apply the Coppercoat.”

In 2020 they sailed from Southeast Asia to the Mediterranean, through the Red Sea. “Before each leg of our passages to the Med, our young crew cleaned the bottom. There was very little to scrape, mostly just slime. What few barnacles were on the bottom came off very easily. When our crew cleaned bottoms for other boats in our group, it sometimes took them several days to do one boat. They could always do our bottom in an hour or so.”

Soulianis: DIY perspective

Lauren and Kirk decided to DIY their Coppercoat application when they put it on the bottom of their Tartan 37, Soulianis in Florida in 2018. They cruise the warmer waters of the Bahamas and Florida, and have had to haul a few times for travel away from the boat. “I am super pumped I haven’t had to paint again each time before splashing. That for me is the biggest win so far.” But to hear Kirk’s description of the maintenance routine—”last year, we were in the water from Feb-June and only scrubbed it twice. There has been some growth but not much”—it’s sounds like a win on the antifouling front, too.

The couple are clear about the tradeoff of cruising kitty funds for effort: “…it absolutely IS a DIY job; you can do it with zero experience, and our hull is proof. But, be forewarned: It is one hell of a big job.”

Grateful: bottom prep blues

Jamie and Niki knew application was key, and decided to research experienced pros to put Coppercoat on their Fountaine Pajot Lavezzi 40, Grateful. “After stripping old bottom paint down to the epoxy barrier, our contractor insisted on applying an additional epoxy barrier prior to the Coppercoat. Six months after the Coppercoat was applied and on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean from our contractor, we found several areas where the second epoxy barrier coat had peeled off and others with numerous tiny blisters.” Coppercoat remained tenaciously adhered to the epoxy – but the epoxy was literally falling off the boat! They suspect a residual chemical contamination from paint stripping, but they’ll never know.

When hauling a year later, the fix was a low-drama event: they applied Coppercoat on the exposed, original epoxy. This has been problem-free in the years since.

Distant Shores III: incomplete initial application

Paul and Sheryl Shard know their way around boats, after more than three decades of living aboard and cruising—sharing their stories by videos first on TV, and now also on YouTube.

They decided to put Coppercoat on the bottom of their third and most recent Southerly, Distant Shores III. But the rush to launch and get the boat to the boat show in Düsseldorf meant that the application wasn’t completed properly. The cured epoxy wasn’t burnished to Coppercoat’s instructions, and it might have been snowing during the application. Antifouling fail resulted!

The couple later hauled the boat under warranty in Annapolis to have the bottom re-done and properly burnished. The difference in performance is striking. Sheryl says: “Distant Shores III was in the water in Panama for seven months of lockdown, but looked like new when we returned.”

Touching up Coppercoat

Totem is getting some spa treatment here at Cabrales Boatyard. Among the projects: hull painting. This means we could adjust the waterline slightly and it’s tempting. While we don’t need to raise the waterline, per se (a tactic used when boats are loaded down more than they should be), the fact that growth does creep above the waterline makes it tempting to push it up. The verdigris tint would be a fine peek of color below whatever we pick for our boot stripe… thumb wrestling on that choice is ongoing! Otherwise, our antifouling shouldn’t need work for many, many years.

The post Sailing Totem: Coppercoat, Three Years On appeared first on Cruising World.

Clive Strickett is a rugged guy, so it takes strong arms to winch him aloft to the masthead. But that’s exactly where you want him: eyeball to halyard sheave, looking for problems. He’s a veteran rigger with a keen eye and a background in ocean racing on the competitive Maxi circuit. On the island of Lanzarote, where I first encountered Strickett, he has a reputation for detail.

We were on the dock at Marina Lanzarote in a fresh breeze of about 20 knots. It was sunny and warm, the sort of weather you’d expect when you’re about 400 nautical miles off the coast of Morocco. These Canary Islands, of which Lanzarote is the farthest north, are a staging area for boats embarking on a trans-Atlantic crossing.

Strickett had just been lowered to the deck of a Bavaria 41 by the boat’s skipper after checking the spreaders, and was now shaking his head. Problems. There are always problems. This time it was mismatched metals. “It’s rare to find a boat that has nothing wrong with it,” he said.

Never mind the Atlantic—the first leg of the trip from the United Kingdom and Europe to the Canaries can be brutal on gear. And that’s before the 3,800-nautical-mile downwind crossing to the Caribbean. It’s wise to have a guy like Strickett check your rig before you leave. “I’ve been doing this for a few years now,” he said. “I might see a problem that the owner missed. They weren’t looking for it, or weren’t looking where they should have been. 

“You never know what’s going to happen on boats. Even on new boats,” he continued. “A friend of mine had a new catamaran, a big one, with a carbon-fiber mast. One of the genoa clutches ripped right off the mast. Brand new boat, right from the factory. We had to get the OK from the factory in France to make a repair. We fixed it, and he crossed the Atlantic.” 

Minor rig problems compound quickly under pressure. Strong winds funneling through these volcanic islands can mimic trade-wind sailing, but that doesn’t mean that every boat is ready for the crossing. According to Strickett, safety lies in the details, and he points out where to look for potential problems in your rig. Here’s what Strickett is looking for as he inspects a spar, from top to bottom.

Masthead: “Be sure the sheave axles are secure. Sometimes the holes elongate or even crack. And then halyards can get mixed up. One boat that came through here from Tenerife was using the wrong halyard. They were using the spinnaker halyard instead of the genoa halyard. When I went up to look at it, the sheave box was completely gone; the rivets were all loose. The holes had elongated because the halyard was at the wrong angle. They didn’t even realize it. It’s tough to see what’s happening aloft when you’re on deck.” 

Working down the mast on a fractional rig, there might be additional sheave boxes fitted for internal halyards. “Make sure all the rivets are tight. Anything fitted with bolts or rivets should be double-checked.”

Spreaders: “Inspect the spreader tips; make sure they’re OK and there’s no corrosion. Whenever you get stainless steel and aluminum together, there’s corrosion. One fleet of charter boats here had put 8 mm stainless bolts into the aluminum spreaders with no protection. Now the spreaders are corroding—the holes get bigger and bigger. But not only that, the spreader was already weakened by putting big holes in it to begin with.”

Shrouds: Broken or damaged wire rigging is the most common problem. “Most cruising boats use 1-by-19 stainless wire. Inside, one strand can let go, then another. When you get up to four broken strands, the wire gets weaker and weaker, and eventually fails. If you’re underway and that happens, then you have a big problem.”

You also don’t want extra weight aloft. “Some people use Dyform, or compacted wire, which uses triangular-shaped strands around a core. If you compare a 10 mm Dyform wire to a 10 mm 1-by-19 wire, the Dyform is stronger. I once changed a 12 mm 1-by-19 wire to a 10 mm Dyform wire. It’s the same strength, but I saved some weight aloft. 

“You can’t take anything for granted,” he continued. “There was a boat getting ready to head to the Mediterranean from here, which is a long slog to windward. He was all ready to go. Just as an afterthought, the owner had me look over the rig. Good thing. I found some broken wires in the forestay. The whole mast could have come down. So have a close inspection just to make sure there are no broken wires, and that the terminals don’t have any cracks in them.”

Boom: “Once again, closely inspect the rivets. Loose padeyes on the boom get looser and can easily rip right out. The same goes for the gooseneck fittings. Check every bolt, every rivet for the slightest elongation of the holes or any loose rivets. I can’t emphasize that enough. The padeye is usually secured to the boom with 5 mm Monel rivets, but those can pull loose after a sharp pull like a jibe. They can get yanked right out of the boom. Then what? As insurance, I usually remove the 5 mm rivets and replace them with 6.3 mm rivets, which are the largest you can use. If you’ve had a big jibe and the boom hits a V1 (lower shroud), it might break or bend the boom. We fix booms at our engineering shop. They’ll straighten it, put a patch on, weld it and then paint it. That makes it strong enough. New booms delivered to Lanzarote come from France, and the delivery fee alone can cost up to $3,500.”

Read More: Check your Boat’s Rig

Turnbuckles: “Some people don’t like to tape turnbuckles; they like to see what’s going on with them. Fair enough. I wouldn’t tape it all the way closed though. Just a little tape around the split pins so that they don’t grab a sail or your ankle. On one boat that I inspected, the guy had taped up the whole thing. When we untaped it, it was all manky, which means pretty disgusting. The dirt will always get in somehow. If it’s all taped up like that, you can’t oil or lubricate it. I tell people: Now and then, service your turnbuckles. Take some turns off the turnbuckle. Make sure it’s clean and then put a little Teflon gel on it, or some MolyKote grease. Then tighten it back up. 

“When you haven’t done it for some years,” he added, “they seize up and you can’t undo them. Especially a small turnbuckle. They’re chrome-plated over bronze, and when you put a big spanner in there and turn it, it’ll snap. And what you don’t want is for a wire to snap when it’s under load. It’s just preventive maintenance. Do it every six months. It takes only a couple of hours.”  

Headsail Furlers: “On some ProFurl furlers, there are four black bolts that go into the furler: two that hold the cage on and two that hold the plate. On the older ones, the bolts are made of titanium, and they seize into the aluminum. I don’t know how many I have had to drill out. But you have to drill them out properly. If it’s a 6 mm bolt, first you drill straight down the middle of the hole with a 3 mm drill, then with a 4 mm, then a 5 mm, then a 5.5 mm. Hopefully it will come out with the heat and friction. ‘Easy-out’ [screw extractors] don’t work. These things are seized together. Even heat doesn’t work.”

Chain Plates: “I inspected one boat with the chain plates so loose, they were actually moving. You could see where they had scratched the paint around the hull. Down below, look carefully at the chain plates. Make sure there’s no cracking in the hull, no movement on the bolts. You can see where a bolt has bent a little, or if it’s been pulled up or down. You’ll see little scratch marks on the hull or the bulkhead.”

Mast Step: “There’s a fine balance between the shrouds being too tight and too loose. There was a good-size catamaran that left here and got into some rough seas, rolling around. The shrouds were too loose, and on one roll, the mast jumped right out of its mast step. It was just for a moment, but in that moment, the mast went overboard.”

With the inspection on the Bavaria completed, as we walked up the gangway toward the marina office, I had one last question: “If something breaks underway, can a rigger or a boatyard be held responsible?” 

Strickett answered, “Sometimes. We have a basic form that says something like: ‘Rig checked. All found to be in good condition at the time of inspection.’ And I sign it. So as far as I’m concerned, everything was OK when I signed it. But if along the way, say it blows up to 40 knots and the crew still has their spinnaker up and the mast comes down, well, they might try to come back to us. So in my opinion, it boils down to this: If you’re not up to sailing the boat, then you shouldn’t be there. You just never know what’s going to happen.”  

David Bond, a regular contributor to CW, is a writer, teacher and cruising sailor currently based in Germany.

The post Sailboat Rigging Tips from a Pro appeared first on Cruising World.