Shit Work

The head discharge line runs up to the
cabin top in the "shower," across
to the opposite bulkhead, and
straight down towards the thru-hull. 

A couple of days ago our toilet plumbing signaled that it was time for the annual dismantling and cleaning of the system by springing a leak and spewing filth all over my foul weather jacket. Foul indeed. About once a year, not quite as predictable as the tides but just as inevitable, the plumbing succumbs to its own peculiar form of atherosclerosis, constricted by calcium deposits produced by the reaction between urine and seawater that I’ve seen reduce the diameter of flow to the size of a pencil. On the occasion of having completed this annual ritual, I thought I might say a few words about some of the less conventional features of our toilet plumbing, which may not be very romantic but could perhaps be useful.

1. No anti-siphon loop. Now, fitting the system with an anti-siphon or vented loop is generally considered critical (“it is absolutely essential,” says Nigel Calder, “to fit some form of a siphon break on both suction and discharge lines.”) But given how quickly calcium deposits form, I can’t imagine that they remain operable for very long. Therefore they only provide a false sense of security. Our response to the risk that the system might siphon water back into the boat has been to run the discharge line all the way to the cabin top and then down to the discharge thru-hull.

The PVC connects with hose above the
waterline. The "shower" hasn't been used as
such for years, and functions much more like
a garage. Of sorts. 

2. PVC pipe. Our discharge line consists almost entirely of PVC pipe, which is cheap, strong, easy to work with, and – most important – entirely odor-proof. The last time I did major re-plumbing, I used some of the nice sanitation hose purchased at great expense from the local chandlery, but right from the outset the stench permeating the hose was enough to drive me off the boat (this problem was made worse in our case because we run the line quite long in order to create a high loop). We were told that the only way to deal with the odor would be to invest in the even more expensive hose, which needed to be imported from the USA and even before it left the States would run us something like $85 a meter (in our case we were looking at $500 worth of hose – even more by the time we got our hands on it in New Zealand). But the fact is that standard household PVC pipe does the trick exceptionally well for a fraction of the price. The limiting factor is that the pipe is rigid and exposed to the (very minimal) risk of cracking. I suppose it’s possible to smash it by throwing an anchor on it, but there’s not much room for a wind up. Nonetheless, we use a short length of hose between the toilet and the piping and another length of hose that connects with the pipe just above the waterline and goes to the discharge thru-hull.

3. DOW 795. I love the stuff. It’s pretty much the only sealant I use. It’s a non-acetic silicone (doesn’t have the typical vinegar smell of most silicones) designed for glazing high rise buildings, for example. It is very elastic, adheres well to plastics (i.e., plexiglass and PVC), quite forgiving (in terms of application procedures), cleans up easily with mineral spirits (even years later), and keeps almost indefinitely in the tube after it’s been opened. Here I used it on all of the joints and to assemble the PVC piping. Now, it’s not much of an adhesive, which means that the PVC piping can come apart. Indeed, the reason the pipe sprung a leak was that the pressure due to the clogged system forced one of the joints apart. But while that is messy, it’s a better alternative than breaking something in the toilet. Also, unless you can take the PVC apart, there is basically no way to clean it out. This might not matter very much if there’s a building supply store down the road, but it could pose quite a problem if you’re anchored at Minerva reef. Since the PVC connections aren’t permanent, however, this makes the length of hose between the discharge thru-hull and the PVC connection above the waterline all the more important. While there is the risk of a mess, there’s no risk of sinking the boat.

Easy Bake Recipe for Stove Burner Repair

Repairing a Faulty Two-Part Burner of a Typical Marine Stove

Tools: scissors; knock-out punch and mallet; vise grip clamp; duct tape.

Materials: top of a tin can; Marine-Tex epoxy putty

Time (including baking, but not including looking for tools): 20 minutes

Directions:

1. Trim lid with scissors to fit the bottom of the burner cap

2. Create an appropriate hole in the center of the lid with a few blows of the rubber mallet on the knock-out punch (I can’t imagine life without a knockout punch)

3. Fit the lid into the burner cap

4. Apply Marine-Tex epoxy putty to the bottom of the lid

5. Fit the bottom of the burner into the burner cap and onto the lid

6. Seal the edges of the bottom of the burner with epoxy putty

7. Clamp together with a vise grip clamp (apply duct tape on those points of the clamp that touch any epoxy so that the clamp doesn't stick)

8. Bake at low heat for ten minutes.

Disassembled burner & the tin can lid with an
appropriate hole that lines up with the hole in the
bottom part of the burner.

Momo is equipped with a fairly typical three-burner propane stove/ oven that has been on the boat ever since the vessel was built in 1982. It’s nothing flash, but it’s functional. At the time the stove was marketed under the “Seaward Princess” label (at least as far as I can recall, since the label on our stove pealed off years ago); now, judging by appearances, this same stove is being distributed by Tasco. Even though it’s thirty years old, we’re not about to replace it because marine stoves are expensive (especially in New Zealand) and we’re not convinced we would be replacing it with anything better. The principle of “better the devil you know” is especially appropriate when fitting out a boat like Momo because most of the “marine quality” equipment for such vessels is designed for a small, recreational market, which means that the stuff is often disproportionately expensive and qualitatively challenged compared to similar goods produced for the mass consumer market.

The tin can lid fitted into the burner cap; next, the lid
is smeared with epoxy putty and the bottom part of
the burner is fitted into the cap on top of the lid.

Our biggest problem with the stove has been its burners, which began giving us difficulties about a year or so after we moved onto the boat. In case anyone feels that we are expecting too much from our stove -- after all, by then it was over twenty years old --it’s worth pointing out that it wasn’t until we bought the boat that the stove was put to rigorous use.

The burners are made of two parts. The cap looks like it is made of aluminum. The bottom is made of thin mild steel. This steel rusts along outside edges where it meets with the aluminum cap, producing little holes in the bottom of the burner that then emit small flames.

Our first “temporary” repair involved simply smearing Marine-Tex epoxy putty along the edges where the burner bottom fits together with the burner cap. But since this repair worked remarkably well and lasted a long time, it soon became standard operating procedure. The repair itself takes no longer than making a cup of coffee, and if you pop the burner into the oven at low-heat the epoxy is sufficiently cured in about ten or fifteen minutes.

Clamp together, bake at low heat for 10 minutes,
 and we're set to go.

I should also add that, based on our experience, the burner is perfectly safe. The propane needs oxygen to burn, which it gets at the top of the burner cap; and even when exposed to flame, as far as I can tell the cured epoxy resin doesn’t really burn but rather gradually turns into ash. Eventually, however, small holes reappear -- both because the epoxy slowly deteriorates and, as Neil Young puts it, rust never sleeps – and we have to repair the burners again. But that’s just part of routine maintenance.

Recently, however, we have tried something new. It has been about six years since that first repair, and the rust has devoured so much of the edges of the burner bottoms that our simple epoxy repairs don’t last more than three months. I thought perhaps we might have to admit defeat in the struggle against planned obsolescence and purchase new burners or fashion new bottoms from stainless. But then I spotted the lid of tin can on the counter which fit the bottom of the burner cap almost perfectly….

The (Road)way of the Orca

We recently spent a day following orcas here in the Bay of Islands. When we were with them they were enjoying sting rays as appetizers. When we left, they were heading for a different bay, presumably for a main course of dolphins. Later in the day, they joined us in our anchorage in Urupukapuka Bay for an after-dinner treat: more sting rays, a favorite for the New Zealand orca.

An orca slides beneath Momo's transom.

We were first notified of their presence as we were drinking our morning coffee by Jochen Zaeschmar, who came to New Zealand some twelve years back because of the marine life here, which marks both his passion and profession. We upped anchor and Momo followed the orca around all morning, along with Jochen in his boat and Ingrid Vissar, a New Zealand native who has devoted her life to understanding the NZ orca.

Ingrid the Orca Researcher collected the kids so that they could have a better view.

Jochen and Ingrid interact with these animals the way most people would with their dogs. They call to them, talk to them, laugh and splash with them. They have even gone into the water with them. Ingrid has categorized and named a great many of the local NZ orca. There's Nibbles, Funky Monkey, Miracle, Yin, and even Moby --  named after Jochen's dog who has his own relationship with the orca as well. There are only 200 - 250 in all of NZ waters, and Ingrid knows many of them personally.

Orcas swim between Momo and Ingrid's boat.

Talk about crossing boundaries and borders -- Ingrid drives the length and breadth of this country to track the orca and know them more. Meanwhile the orca seem to swim up and down both coasts, from North Island to South Island and back again, in patterns that researchers are only beginning to understand. You're as likely to find them in Auckland harbor as in Bay of Islands, or even further south. They alternately head off on their own (particularly the males) and then return to the group/family, sometimes regrouping hundreds of miles away. Small  groups hunt together, teach the young, and court and play.

Our encounter with orca makes us think about our own travels in a world without highways. There are no roads out here -- just a whole lot of blue. We equip ourselves with charts and GPS and radar and depth sounders; the orca have all that built in and follow their own waterways.

Jochen's close enough to reach out and touch them.

...and now they're coming our way.

We never know where they're going, but they sure do.