Guaymas, Mexico Boat Yard January, 2019 Part 1

Holoholo - A journey led by spirit and intuition

Part 1

We know that we are a little crazy. We know this. So there is no need to contact us after reading this post and telling us this. Besides it won't change anything.

We still be cray cray.

With that caveat out of the way, I have a story to share. 

I'm sure everyone remembers at least one time in their life when life did a 180 degree turn.  A head spinning day, or two that shifted your life fundamentally. The 'carpet was pulled out from under you' kind of life change. 

Well, this is one of those days.

Since the last post Shay and I have been working hard on EM (now called Sin Nombre as an interim name in our attempt to ward off bad juju by de-naming the boat and ridding her of her previous owners attachments).

We still have the port side hole, but it's bigger now and includes 20ft of toe rail. And although we got a bid for fixing it, the cost was way too much and so we decided to fix it ourselves. It would still cost a lot for all the cement, epoxies, rebar and fiberglass, but it was doable. We consulted books, researched online, talked to a million people, and tried to find a knowledgeable local. A very time consuming project just to figure out how to fix the hole, let alone the weeks to do the task.

Then I found the giant crack in the forward bilge.
I was trying to eradicate a remaining diesel smell inside and ended up ripping apart one of the battery compartments. This is where I found the giant rent in the cement cap of the bilge. Which happens to be right next to the fuel leak we fixed last year from the previous owners crappy installation of anything but the right fuel line.

So, I'm laying on the salon floor looking into the dark bilge at the crack, smelling diesel fumes with my head about 2 feet from the old diesel leak. I still have enough brain cells left to realize this is not a good combination. Diesel flowing into one's concrete and steel keel is not a good scenario.

It took me a good 20 minutes to get the courage to tell Shay about what I found. 

She must also have some brain cells left because the look on her face after peering into the bilge showed her dismay.

"That's it," I say, "Shit."

"Yeah, we are done," Shay replies.

(very long silence.)

"But let me ask Bill first," she adds.

Bill is down the yard fixing a plywood catamaran with his wife. They owned a ferro-cement boat for over a decade and had it fixed in New Zealand. Bill has provided advice on a few occasions and encouraged us to fix the port side hole ourselves.

Shay and Bill look at the bilge cap crack and Bill says he doesn't think it's the end of the world if only a small amount of diesel got down into the keel. We have no idea how much diesel was leaking for how long into the bilge. We all agree to hope for the best and keep an eye out for signs that diesel got into the keel but decide to move forward.

This is exhausting. One day we are working hard to make this boat safe and the next we are scrapping her. It's emotionally tiring. We break early for the day and go home and drink Tequila and watch movies.

The next day we show up ready to start the hull sanding in prep for epoxy, coal tar and paint. For two days I sand the old coal tar paint off the port side, covering myself and everything within four feet in black dust. Shay is working on the hole above the water line and prepping the toe rail. 

On the second day, as I was sanding, I noticed small, dark spots. On closer inspection the spots are oily and smell like, you guessed it, diesel. 

They are just pin pricks and only a few of them, so we decide to use epoxy on them. No big deal.

We move forward.

The next day we show up to continue sanding and the oily pinpricks have turned into a swath - 8ft by 2 ft long, horizontally along the lower bilge line. This IS a BIG deal. This would take tens of thousands of dollars and months or more to fix. 

It's not worth it. 

We sit on the work bench next to the hull so we can stare at the giant hole and diesel leaking hull and ask each other if this is it. Are we done?

Yes, we are done. We call Uncle: defeated. A part of me feels like we failed her. 

It is no longer safe to even splash her. The old gal has reached the end of her life.

Although sad we both feel relieved. 

Its been feeling like wading upstream the last 6 weeks, now we can let go and step out of the stream, or at least stand still for a bit. Part her out. Recoup some money. 

As I start cleaning up the sanding gear Shay disappears again on one of her 'escape into the yard to make friends forays.' She returns after an hour and says to me, "You have to come look at this boat that's for sale."

"Shay, really? Now?"

"Yes Yona, now, come on."

Is this her way of grieving the loss of Sin Nombre? I don't know.
I'm spent; exhausted from the on again off again of the past weeks and I just want to go drink a beer and take a nap. But sometimes you gotta trust your wife and go with the flow. Let the universe take over when your path is not clear....

Part 2 coming soon.