The mast has been out since February 12th, and four days before the mast step (March 11th), Mason and I got our butts out to Canal Boatyard for some electrical work.
On Friday, he picked me up from the airport after a week in Nashville for work, and we went straight to the yard. With Qdoba in our bellies, we were unstoppable. Our first stop was West Marine for a new steaming light and VHF antenna. Next, we headed to the yard and admired our beautifully painted mast, courtesy of Pacific Fiberglass. The afternoon went pretty smoothly—Mason re-wired the steaming light while I mounted the VHF antenna.
On Saturday, we mounted the Luna Sea nav light and riser, which required tapping screws. That went surprisingly well, though drilling metal into metal still kind of blows my mind. I did partially strip a screw, but hey, learning curve for the sous-engineer. I also learned how to crimp two wires together and heat-shrink the exterior to keep it watertight. We left feeling good about our mast work, knowing we just had to come back briefly to secure the system with cable clamps.
Then Saturday evening rolled around. After a fabulous send-off dinner for Alex Yin at Asaderos, Mason’s brain started turning. He thought about his week anchored off Bellingham last summer and how distressed he was by the radar position on the backstay. Our bimini has four solar panels—two 150-watt and two 100-watt, with the larger ones in the center. During this time living off grid, he discovered the smaller exterior panels were generating more power because the dang radar was blocking sun from the middle panels. He tossed and turned about this all night.
So, despite the mast step happening on Tuesday, we decided we were moving the radar off the backstay and to the mast. Off to Fisheries to buy a mount and learn to rivet for the first time (how riveting!). We soon learned that riveting absolutely sucks. Where’s the mechanical advantage? You muscle the rivet in, then muscle the shitty bolt cutters to snap the excess off. And speaking of muscling things—turns out, my three drill holes were slightly to the left of Mason’s “perfect” nine holes. Good thing we were in full muscle mode, because after a withering glare from Mason, he muscled the mount in place while I muscled in the rivets. You gotta let the sous-engineer participate—even if it means minor structural regrets. It’s called education!
We decided that as long as the mount was on, we could figure out how to complete the radar attachment once the mast was upright—or tackle it Tuesday morning at the yard. Then the rain started pouring, so we skedaddled out of there.
Monday morning, we looked at our schedules and thought, Well… maybe we should just attach the radar while the mast is still on the ground. And that led to the most trying part of this process: sending a honker of a radar wire cable into a narrow wire slot made for the steaming light and shoving it all the way down the mast. This was TOIGHT. After several wonky attempts, we finally MacGyvered a candy cane tape job with fishing tape, and that got us home free.
The rig goes in on Tuesday, marking another major milestone checked off for our offshore requirements. A huge relief, a huge learning experience, and honestly—despite the rivets, the stripped screws, and the unexpected radar relocation—it feels damn good seeing everything come together.
Over and out!
Sous-Engineer
