A Year of Independence: Mizzen Drop

So you’d think that after a couple of weeks, my sleep patterns would have found some sort of normalcy. Yet I still find myself awake at odd hours. This morning I was unable to fall back asleep, so I got up, made a hot cuppa strong coffee, and while Serena continues to saw logs I try my hand at this blog thing. It’s been mostly her writing so far, with an occasional input here or there by me, so now it’s my turn.
But where to begin? This whole boat is such a long continuation of pieces, parts and projects that all bleed together… today’s project actually started last year. I think Serena has mentioned previously how the boat got the better of me last year. 10+ hour days, six or seven days a week, for three solid months with seemingly little progress is enough to discourage most anyone. It definitely left me feeling defeated and deflated. The big issue last year was rust (apparently, steel boats rust. Maybe you’ve heard?). Rust cropping up in places that you’d never expect it, or areas that show no outward sign of corrosion. Where did it all come from? I could blame the previous owner for a lack of maintenance. I could blame the surveyor for not doing a thorough enough job. I could blame myself for being too blinded by the imminent realization of my dream of having a boat in the Med. Trying to assign blame to someone really wouldn’t change anything though, would it? Instead I’m choosing to look at it as just my turn. This boat is 25+ years old, and some of these projects we’re doing won’t have to be done for another 25 years. A bunch of things have come due and we’re the ones who own at the time. Kind of like musical chairs.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yea! Rust. So three days before I was supposed to leave for home last year (I had already pushed back my departure date by a week or so in hopes of finishing up some other projects), it rained. Not unusual, but this time there seemed to be more than a little bit of water streaming into the aft cabin from the ceiling panels. A little investigation revealed that the fittings that take the wires and cables that run up the mizzen mast through the deck to the electric panel had failed. Or I should say the fittings were fine, it was the steel that surrounded the fittings that had failed. A little poking and prodding and soon I had a two square inch hole and a bunch of other really thin, corroded material surrounding it. This was within an inch or two of the mizzen, and it was clear that the metal plate under the mast itself would have to be replaced. Cool. No problem. I got three whole days! Actually, I was nowhere near as optimistic as that. I was done. I whipped up some epoxy putty, slathered the whole area in it, and called it good. Hopefully it would at least keep the rain out.
Fast forward to this year and the continuing masochism. Now that the dodger is out of our way and we have a relatively clear run of the decks, it is time to deal with the mizzen mast. It seemed a pretty straight forward process. Use the halyard on the main mast to lift the mizzen, have a couple of lines to control the swing, and Bob’s Yer Uncle! Since I had never done this before, and it was just the two of us, we thought it best to enlist the help of a friend and co-steel boat sufferer, Uli. Now Uli had dropped a mast before so I was eager to have his input. His approach was entirely different from mine. Instead of using a line from the top of the main to lift the mizzen, he wanted to use a line from the top of the mizzen, via a cantilever, to control the descent. Uhhh…ok! My biggest concern with that approach was being able to control the side to side swing of the top of the mast. We had control lines tied at the spreaders (about half way up the mast), but the best angle, and therefore purchase, that we could get on them didn’t seem like enough. But ah well, you’ve done this before, we haven’t, so we’ll defer. It was when the mast was at a 45degree angle, careened off to the port side, and looking to make a not so soft landing on top of the building behind us (which is a repair shop that was working on a new mast. Would you call that foreshadowing?), and Uli asked if we had insurance that I started to wonder if this was the best approach. But it was too late to retreat now! Onward through the fog! I would have closed my eyes if I weren’t using them. As it was I couldn’t spit by the time we were finished, but somehow we managed to end up with the mast in a mostly horizontal position. Its head was indeed on the repair shop’s roof, and this brought us a tirade of sharply spoken Turkish from one of the women who work in the office. But that and some doubtful/questioning looks from the shop workers were the worst of our injuries. Some more finagling and line wrangling allowed us to move the thing so it’s entirely lying on our deck. Man! That sucker is way bigger than it looked standing up!! The spreaders now have most of the cockpit, and our gloriously clean-run decks are no more, but at least I can fix the plate beneath where it was standing. Of course, putting it back up will be another story. Although… I hear that Sloops are all the rage!

Trying to figure out the best approach