Tag: humor

AC Installation Sensation Revelation

· Leave a comment ·

Dear Grousers,

If you feel the need to tell me I do not need AC, please stop reading now and shift to another topic. I knew all along I did not need AC. I knew all along there were many things I did not need. Like ice. Like cold beer. Like autopilot. Like radar. Like AIS. Like vegetables or fresh baked bread. Chilled white wine. Internet. Clean clothes. Tooth paste and TP. Yes, in this cruising lifestyle, there are many things one can do without and still live. I mean exist. Still sail securely. I mean with moderate levels of constant anxiety. Still have confidence. I mean prayer…

So, for those contemplating a similar endeavor, the gist is that the Dometic 16K units can be fit to replace old two-part units in V50. 

Additionally, I thought the following account  might prove useful. To complete my installation, I had to stumble in the dark through internet searches and trial and error. Here goes.

Our V50 had two defunct 16K BTU AC systems on board when we purchased it. We already had the vents and ducts in place. The original units must have been quality systems when installed in 2002. Compressor units were in the stern and blower units were located under fore section of quarter berth and under lower compartment beneath linen closet to right as one enters V-berth cabin. I removed and disposed of these units, a task in and of itself. I then removed runs of copper tubing and was able to free up space in wire channels. The tubing I did get some cash for at a nearby metal recycling outfit. I installed bases in both of the blower spaces based on the dimensions of the Dometic  16K BTU units that I planned to install. I then did nothing more on it for four years or so as I had so much to cover (autopilot, refrigeration, solar, inverter, life raft, epirb, hatches, roller furlers, metal work, engine work…) and AC was the last on my list.

As we came closer to departure date, I tried repeatedly to pick up a couple of units to begin the process but the numbers just did not make sense. I finally, when in Miami, gave up on the Dometics and decided to pick up a couple of Webastos. We would avoid the CA sales tax and the shipping, as I recall, was included. Signed the deal and then they tell me that it will be six months before they can deliver—but they had made in China units available right away. I wavered and then decided to forget it. Refund processed. Fast forward a year and we are in Catalina anticipating a stop in San Diego before heading to Mexico. Advice from a friend cruising in Mexico ran through my mind—whatever crucial items you need, better to get them before you cross the border. Delivery and taxes would be challenges and costs to consider. So, checked with West Marine and they actually had two of the units in their San Diego store. I had the cash saved, so I picked those up and staggered the installation: a bit in San Diego, another chunk in Asuncion, a bit more in San Jose del Cabo and then I finished up here in La Cruz, home of the dancing horses.

Notes on the installation

The fit

I was able to fit both units, one under the fore section of the quarter berth and one in lower section of fore cabin linen closet. Space was extremely tight so had to do some finagling. I had to angle the units in order to make enough space to connect ducts without pinching them. Also in the quarter berth had to cut out section between unit space and drawers to make it fit. For the fore unit, again, had to install it at an angle. Also, had to cut holes for feeder and pan drain hoses for direct connection as running them through main hose channel pinched them too much.

Note re. pan drains: Did not want to run pan drains to bilge as I did not want more water in bilge. However, with the dips and rises in the drain hose from units to stern thru-hull, the pans did not drain. Even after just one session of use, there was ¾” of water sitting in the pan, this despite my attempting to alleviate the issue with the installation of an in-line pump—no go. I elevated the pans with a strip of ½” ply under one end and ran the drains to the bilge. The pans drained. More than not wanting water in the bilge, I absolutely did not want water sloshing out of the pans into compartments, creating mold and rot issue. In any case, there is inevitably water in bilge from freezer defrost and water tank overflow. I had previously installed a diaphragm pump in stern to deal with this issue (best project—absolutely worth it).

Wiring

Each unit has a breaker at the panel. Power lines run from respective breakers to individual units. The pump has its own breaker at the panel. A power line runs from the pump breaker to the relay box. Then power runs from relay box to pump. Each unit has its own control box. A switch line runs from each control box to a connection on the pump relay so each unit can activate the pump. I re-used the original pump relay box.

The best part of this project was when it actually worked immediately when I had finished the install.

Reflection

Please. I have had too many codgers tell me I don’t need this and I don’t need that. Actually, AC was the last thing on my mind. However, the boat already had the vents and the ducting just sitting there.

“What are those vents for?”

“Oh that’s for our AC.”

“Really? How does it work.” 

“Well we don’t have any. I decided I did not want to spend the money and we didn’t need it.”

“Why is this beer so warm?”

“Oh, listened to old salts and decided I didn’t need refrigeration either.”

“At least this finger of scotch doesn’t need to be cold but it somehow doesn’t taste right.”

“Oh yeah, that’s some ersatz scotch that I bought at a trade warehouse liquidation. A real bargain. Apparently, they get the coloring right and just infuse it with the chemical smoky flavor.”

Saw my God Damn leg off! Is it a crime to actually want to enjoy a bit of comfort?! Jesus Christ. I was recalling July surf trips to frying pan Baja. Think about that. The middle of the day slapped me down flat like roach on a counter. Or med cruisers in Greece in August tied up to the quai, baking. You walk by and you see gasping bodies under cockpit tarp looking like Napoleonic troops strewn about a grime-covered Syrian plague ward. Oh the joys of sailing the Greek isles in August. Really? Honestly, as we head into May, it’s starting to get hotter down here. Thus far this AC has not just been a minor enhancement in comfort that gets a smug nod—it has been a revelation. An hour or two here and there have made a great difference. I know that the units could crap out at any time as so many things have a habit of doing. But they are working right now. Glory Hallelujah!

Beware the Dock Warbler

· Leave a comment ·

One of the craziest God damned books I ever read was an account of a septuagenarian who crossed the Pacific on a raft. Yes. A raft. It was basically a maybe twelve square feet of planks with a silly hut in the middle of it and a vertical pole maybe ten feet high. There was a critical moment towards the end. Well, actually every bloody moment on that ramshackle conveyance was probably screamingly critical. In any case, there were storms and such, yes, and then some miraculous moment shooting past breakers through a notch in the Great Barrier Reef… The most poignant moment that has stuck with me was when he developed a hernia and self-treated by hanging himself upside down from the pole until the protrusion receded. He didn’t need a doctor or a hospital. He had ingenuity and the pole. In any case, this is the misadventure that I recalled when, twisted in the aft lazarette I heard whistle like a warble and then a raspy voice in a crusty barnacled tone, “Ahoy there, what’s goin’ on?” And there on the dock was a salty appearing fellow creased and aged by the elements wearing a plaid shirt, worn famer john jeans overalls and an incongruous pair of puffy slippers that made it seem as if he was transported from place to place on two explosively permed guinea pigs.

            “I am installing an autopilot,” I adjured.

“You don’t need that,” came his response. “Just go.”

And so initiated my encounter with this interesting fellow. He would appear from time to time out of nowhere, always dully inquisitive and always with a similar insight.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Fixing roller furler.”

“You don’t need that. Just  use hank-on sail.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Installing a refrigerator.”

 “You don’t need that. Gonna break anyway. Just go.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Installing manual crash pump below.”

“You don’t need that. Use a bucket.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

 “Installing AIS.”

“You don’t need that. Keep a lookout.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Installing AC.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

And so it went. The last time I saw him, well one particular time I saw him deserves to be mentioned. I was sitting on the loo TP in hand when I looked down and saw a couple of puff balls under the divider and God damn if a weathered claw did not descend and pluck the very roll from me hand. “Are you blind? You don’t need that. Use your fingers. There’s a sink and soap right in front of the bloody stall.”

That left me a bit shocked. And so the encounters continued sporadically during our three-year voyage prep period. It was the day we finally cast off the lines that I last saw him. We were making our way, about to hit the open bay for the last time when I heard a distant warble. It was coming from the Ancient Seamen’s Sanatorium on the point at the mouth of the estuary. I picked up the binoculars and there he was leaning  out of a third-story window. Unfortunately I could not hear him quite clearly but I could effectively read his lips as he said, “You don’t need that. Just go.”

Spicy Poop Tank Sauce Surprise

· Leave a comment ·

Ah yes, how gloriously naïve it be to consider oneself somehow, by the grace of good fortune or the Gods, invulnerable to the unpleasant mishaps, malfunctions and vicissitudes of life at sea. Many a time and oft did I hear echo of sailors online warnings regarding the aluminum poop tank. Piss and salt water are an acidic combination they did warn. It will turn any aluminum poop tank into a colander in under ten years. Yes. Thought I was immune. Our 47- gallon tank was huge and could accommodate a nice three weeks of night soil for tidy keeping. It looked fine and we had had no issue or signs with which to be concerned. Besides, we flushed with fresh water, not salt, and so, with hubris, pooped on believing ourselves anointed and spared. Well, the shit hit he bilge. We discovered it in San Diego. We thought it was from a loose hose when filling, rinsing and pumping in Avalon. No such luck. Indeed there were poop crumbs in the vile stream and that had not come from any weeping seam leak. We kept the tank low and noticed no more seepage so decided the leak must be high on the tank. Idiot that I was, I decided not to replace it in Alameda when I could and should have as a result of the above described delusional thinking. So, ordered a new tank when we were in Ascuncion. Don’t yet know how we will get it but that’s where we are. Also in Ascuncion, when changing oil, noticed oil containers were besmeared, so I rubbed my hands all over the poop slathered containers, rubbed it all over my face then poured the oil on top of my head and chased down shore birds on the abandoned beach. Well, that’s what I felt like doing, but being the clever resourceful analytical and unemotional functionary that I am, I quickly reasoned that the hole was above the oil containers on the backside of the tank—and I found it, a nice hole about the side of a nickel. Brushed area with wire brush, wiped it down with acetone, whipped up a mix of fiberglass strands and JB weld and pugged that hole with a hairball so mighty a twenty-pound angora would be proud. Just now pressed a paper towel on that spiky hardened patch and, despite much bouncing about on the way down here, no sign of stain or dampness. It will hold for the meantime.

Now we somehow have to get the tank here, cut up and remove old tank and install replacement. So this saga, our first in the exciting Fix It, Jesus series, will have a follow-up episode.