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To ensure a system works, you have options: test the individual components ("unit testing"), or test the system as a whole, end-to-end ("integration testing"). Maybe a mix of both, depending on the context. In the case of pressure-testing the bathroom plumbing, I've done the latter.

First connecting the pieces:

The board for the tank accumulator is only temporary, and the jubilee clip is too big (extras are en route). I also got some rubber mats for the pump vibration, which work wonderfully. It's perfectly noticeable — silent and you wouldn't hear a leak, too loud and it's obnoxious.

And no matter how many times I wrap PTFE around a thread, I always have to think about which way it goes...

Then, (partly) filling the tank!

And finally connecting the wires:

It works!!! And after sealing the end, it pressurised and stayed leak-free. For whatever reason I was worried about the push-fit joins, they seemed kinda fake, but nothing to fear.

Although afterwards I realised there was a bunch of water left in the pipes, and I didn't know how to get it out... I need a release valve, as low as possible. I'll squeeze one in after the pump that can drain into the shower sump.

It was a relief to get this done; for whatever reason I'd made it into this huge thing, and let it block everything else. But now I can get back to building.

In other news, on Thursday I picked up some of the tile samples:

I'll make the real ones bigger, but I need to decide on the clay... there's not an obvious winner, but it's between the LF White Earthenware (top right) and Millennium (middle right, a stoneware clay). Problem with the earthenware is that the glaze might crack, which means a) aesthetics, and b) I'll need an extra sealant. It's probably fine, just not as hardy as stoneware, but the millennium clay looks drab in comparison. Decisions.

The coral/pink/orange(??) above is the leading contender for my splash of colour on some of the tiles. Ironically those photos are lit by low-CRI LEDs, so it doesn't truly represent the colour.

I also ordered shower drains (for hiding in the wall — it'll look epic), which I'd been searching for... it's more common to have them in the floor, and I could find ones for £300+ per 12-inch drain (wtf?), but I finally discovered reasonable ones on Amazon of all places.

And on Friday, the first window arrived! The rest are ready, but sat in the warehouse — I asked for delivery in the Spring with some warmer weather (I need to paint the exterior first), but the bedroom currently has no window... I'm waitin' on a sunny day.

Double-glazed, "thermal break," and it opens — hinges slightly like a hopper, but you can also take out the whole window for when it's hot.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

P.S. you may have noticed it looks different around here. I got tired of the devops required to post an update (and then separately send an email), so I switched to a self-hosted Ghost instance and it is delightful.

Hello! And happy December.

It feels good to be back in the homeland. While stateside I made it to the Shenandoah Valley, and it turns out the song was right, the Blue Ridge Mountains really do look blue!

I only got back yesterday, and continued with chiselling concrete today. It’s kinda slow, not setting a great precedent for any future tunnel digging, but the hole for the shower sump is now done:

Next up are the small channels for the drains and pipes, which… I need to find. And order.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello!

Happy Sunday, happy boat-less week. Still in the USA, I’ve been on the road for work, now visiting some family in the capital.

The bathroom plumbing will be fun to get back to, and until then, here’re some boats at sunset in front of the Washington Monument:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello!

Boat updates…?! I have found myself in New York, and didn’t sufficiently have my shit together beforehand to get any boat work done this week. The forecast at home is cold and wet, so I’m not too mad, and it gives me a chance to get parts on order with any downtime. And here’s the nearby water, with a couple of boats if you zoom in:

I’m here for work, back the week after, so I’ll have nothing to show next Sunday either. I can feel my May deadline approaching…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello!

It didn’t feel like a huge boat progress week, but on Saturday I was back in the tank, sealing the crannies and nooks before I can fill it.

I wouldn’t call it aesthetic, but a generous dose and I hope function prevails. And it wouldn’t be complete without getting some in my hair, but the hairdresser is used to me by now (last time she was cutting out the blue paint).

A few other odd jobs, then back to the bathroom. Because the shower drains will be at floor level, the plumbing has to go lower. I’ve got a sump with a float switch and pump which fills and automatically drains, so today I started digging up the floor:

And feeling a little delicate because reasons, chiselling concrete was the perfect pastime. It’s a little ominous hammering away under the waterline, but it’s so satisfying when you chip away a huge chunk.

Because I’m adding a corner cupboard for the plumbing and electronics, I’ll need 3 drains along the starboard wall for all pitch angles (the bow drops a lotwhen the water tank is full). And because it lists to starboard I won’t need any on the port side. If by magic it’s level when I’m finished, I’ll add extra weight to keep it tilting. You may say uneven boats are buggy, but here it’s my feature.

I once thought about chiselling out square meters of floor for adjustable ballast and/or a wine “cellar,” but that little square took me 2 hours (the concrete is full of stones). Sometimes it’s healthy to let ideas marinate…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello, and happy November!

The thought of building out the boat over winter didn’t excite me to start with, but there’s something wholesome about working when it’s dark, lit by lamps and nothing much happening outside in the cold.

Speaking of, on Monday evening I re-did the bedroom lights, as the “wired to never fail” was bugging me. I added snap-on connectors instead of the solder joints, and some slack in the wires so you can pull them out if the LEDs fail.

Then, Denmark! A few days to celebrate my grandmother’s and mother’s birthday, with spades of cheese, rundstykker, wine and good company.

Back last night, and this morning I continued with plumbing, bending pipes to go up-and-over the bathroom for the shower, before starting on the ceiling. And pipe bending bloody hell, that takes it out of you, especially when you’re trying to be fancy across 3 dimensions.

I could have used plastic pipe, but… that has worse vibes for drinking, and something about copper + health benefits and algae resistance. But before I can cover it all up, it needs pressure-testing. That means connecting the electronics, finding some 12V power and finishing the water tank sealant.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Slam it to the left… if you’re havin’ a good time?

Mostly confident in my socket wiring last week, but I got a plug tester to be sure. The dopamine hit worked; there’s no substitute for the 2 green lights telling me “well done, you’re not an imbecile.”

Euphoria has so many triggers, like fixing an elusive programming bug, finishing a book you wrote, methylenedioxymethamphetamine, or meditative bliss. Another one is when you wire the lights, turn the switch and they work.

MOODY.

The 2700K colour is cosier than I imagined, but I think that’s fine for the bedroom; I’ll go higher for the rest. And I kinda forgot about maintenance, wiring them like they’ll never fail… I’ll add some easily-changeable connectors or something while they’re accessible.

And for once, I didn’t electrocute myself.

But there’s an issue with the dimmer programming, as they’re sometimes stubborn about turning on. Maybe the LED driver not getting enough power or the minimum setting is off, I’m not entirely sure; I’ve ordered a halogen bulb for testing to help isolate the issue. And a gripe with the switch fidelity — I’ve used the same one as I’ll need elsewhere for dimming in 2 locations, but the knob feels clicky, like a tinny word. Akin to the first iPod’s piezo clicker, it doesn’t have that satisfying resistance or click of a typical rotary switch, something woody.

Earlier in the week some plumbing kit showed up — the pump and accumulator. The latter is a tank that holds pressure and smoothens out the system so the pump doesn’t need to cut in as often, giving it a longer life and more consistent water pressure.

This is vaguely where I’ll mount them, in the bathroom. Old Katona had a 1 litre tank, but we’re yolo’ing this build and I went for 5. The bigger the tank, the longer water will run without the pump. During a shower it’s inevitable, but turning the tap on to wash your hands or fill up a bottle needn’t shake the boat. Speaking of, I was about to connect copper pipes directly to the pump when I remembered it vibrates, a lot. I’ll get some hose for either side, then mount it on vibration-absorbing pads, or maybe suspend it…

A bunch of copper pipe connectors also arrived, and I went to use them, but they were press fit. I wanted push fit, and that is when I learned those are entirely different ways of connecting pipes. Push fit grabs the pipe when you insert it, no tools required. Press fit requires a special crimping tool, which is expensive. Alas, the correct ones are now en route.

Some 10mm² wire arrived for the pump as well, but then I thought about the other devices needing 12v power, and it’s a lot of thick wire to get enough amps that far down the boat. Wondering if there was a more elegant solution, I asked ChatGPT, and it had the excellent idea of running a higher-voltage cable for the 14-metre stretch.

So, new plan! Bump up to 48v at the stern by the batteries, and run thinner cable to the bathroom where I’ll step down to 12v for the pump, shower drain, extractor fan, and water tank overflow. Converters on order, we are cooking.

I have a newfound appreciation for the national grid, what an absolute wonder. Katona’s getting a mini version, because why not.

Finally, it’s been an order-heavy week; I’ve spent so long wading through websites for the correct fittings, cables or other esoteric items. Eventually you just want to get on with putting things together.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello! Moar varnish this week, and buoy was it boring. Also hard to see given it’s clear, but that is the bedroom done. Some new work lights helped, for day-round daylight inside:

Then, lighting. Or at least the wire-y parts… I forgot fuses for the LED strips, so everything up-to that point:

The white thing below is the LED driver, and I made those brackets for mounting it to help dissipate any heat. Followed by fitting the bedroom plug sockets, which make a nice change to the wires hanging out everywhere:

On Saturday I also moved back to the marina, looking after my neighbour’s boat and their cat, Challa, until next June while they’re travelling. 30 seconds from Katona, ideal.

And finally, a plumbing order! I spent awhile perusing the interwebs to find what I’ll need for starting with the bathroom next week…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

G’day, from the UK. Happy Sunday!

Not much boat time this week, but on Thursday I started working on some tile samples:

These by hand, but I’ll get a pasta-maker type thing (a “slab roller”) for the rest, and I’ll spend a few weeks experimenting with clays, slips and glazes before starting mass production.

And on the way back I caught a photo of the aurora! I couldn’t see it particularly well, but my phone camera picked it up:

On Saturday I squeezed in some bedroom varnish sanding before heading out, then cleaned it up this afternoon, ready for the final coat (and lighting!). Moving back to the marina next weekend, and I’m looking forward to some longer boat days…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Sat on the balcony of my room, listening to Shania with the boys (my brother and cousin), nothing but blue sky and ocean waves; this week I’m in North Carolina, U.S.A, for a wedding. I would have said hungover, but thanks to magical chemistry it’s only tiredness. Gosh I love science. Happy Sunday, and happy October!

Getting here was fun; it started with checking in to the flight and discovering my passport was all-but-expired — thankfully the Danes gave me a spare. Then onto security with a full monty pat-down, a swab for drugs, and finally seeing my bag kicked to the side for inspection… “Anything sharp in there?” the woman asked. Confuzzled, I had a rummage, and sure enough: my leatherman. “Unfortunately I have to take this,” she said. I laughed, she smiled, and I shall never see that knife again. It was a gift (sorry mum & David!), and now it’s a story. Alas, I’ve become that guy.

Hoping that was it, but then at the gate heard my name over the loudspeaker, impossible to mistake the mangled “Bundegaard.” Nitch-olas Brunder-guard Good-hall. A few routine checks they assured me, like where on earth do you live?! To top it off, we missed the connecting flight, and spent 5 hours wandering the gates of Terminal 4 at JFK, in New York.

While here I’ve been trying to surf; I rented a board for a few days, but have been routinely humbled by my inability to get past the waves crashing over me. The weather’s perfect however, and with a winter wetsuit I could find somewhere in the UK… I can feel another hobby brewing.

More ocean than boat, but we occasionally saw one on the horizon:

On Friday some of us visited the Wright Brothers memorial museum — just 10 minutes from here! — where they first took powered, controlled flight. Truly 2 boys having a blast, who just happened to change the world. It reminded me what a gift it is to feel compelled by a quest, like an idea being pulled out of you. Plus they were phenomenally well-dressed, even in the sand dunes — I’m starting to wonder if my “technology brother” attire is just a phase.

In Katona-related news, I’ve added an archive to the blog.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello! Flooding season is upon us.

This is 4 feet above normal, and I’m staying on the other side of the Avon, which I can no longer reach by foot along the river path. In fact I’m staying by the church, and on Tuesday evening I went along to their bell ringing practice…

I walked into the choir vestry and met Rhod, who wondered if I was lost. A stranger, coming for the church bells?! There weren’t many newcomers, and before ascending the spire he graciously gave me a tour of Shakespeare’s grave. His head is supposedly at a nearby church, for reasons I can’t remember, but the rest was confirmed by an ultrasound years ago. Lying next to him is Anne Hathaway, and their 3 kids.

Anyway, I’m gonna learn to ring church bells, HELL YEAH. As if I didn’t have enough hobbies. It’s a niche part of music that I never considered; pianists have scores, guitarists have tabs, and bell ringers have methods. It’s very math-based, and I like the way Wikipedia describes it: “It is a way of sounding continually changing mathematical permutations.”

A wonderful thing is that once you’ve learned them, you can ring church bells anywhere; travel the shires, explore the spires. And a few good things about the bells at Holy Trinity:

1. It’s a big room, with lots of space (the veteran ringers assured me some churches are cramped).
2. They have 10 bells, whereas many only have 6 or 8. A few big’uns have 12, like St Paul’s Cathedral.
3. It’s right by the marina.

How quiet the ringing chamber was surprised me; much quieter than outside, and you can happily hold a conversation. I owe a thanks to my friend Beth for suggesting it, the idea that I could play those bells had not once occurred to me. Many such cases…

It was also a good reminder of how learning something increases the beauty of it, instead of dispelling magic or wonder. I’ve become more aware of them, like “Hey! That’s Robert up there!” as they rang this morning, thinking about what exactly they were doing. It’s fun being an adult and nerding out on the activities that would absolutely get you bullied as a teenager.

Anyway, something about a boat! I finally finished the bedroom wood trim this week, and this morning screwed in the lighting coves:

They camouflage well. Followed by a hoover and wipe down, and then varnishing… I was excited to start, which quickly gave way to “god this fucking sucks.” Every single time; I love having painted, or varnished. The process is fun for all of 30 seconds before monotony sets in.

The natural lighting is awful in there, but luckily I have some fancy LEDs to install after the next coat…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello!

It’s been a while since I started the engine, and on Tuesday I felt like giving it a little razzmatazzle for good juju. I went to crank it and sure enough, the starter hardly engaged. Sometimes it did but sounded painful, like a bodybuilder trying to force out a big one.

Thinking it might be the battery, I let it charge overnight and came back Wednesday evening. Again, same problem.

Given its history, and worried about a suspect leak from the crankshaftcorroding things, I took it off for inspection. Luckily it looked great, dry as toast, and violently span on the deck when I directly connected it. So I put it back, re-wired it, and… presto? Worked a charm, started beautifully. Maybe it was just a loose connection?

Thursday evening I went to pottery, as per, making a beaker and a bowl on a stalk for Kokedama plants (aka a poor man’s bonsai), or any plant that could sit in a bowl:

Then I asked Cathy, my teacher who runs the studio, about tiles… Only planning to make the weird shapes by hand, I told her about my quest for some nice square ones for the bathroom walls, to which she excitedly asked “Why don’t you make them?!”

I did find these beautiful tiles, but they’re cement-based and require a coating every couple of years to survive a wet room. That I am absolutely not doing, so unless I find ones which tickle my soul… welp. 2 weeks ago I was making fun of my dad for wanting to buy a ton of oak planks for his boat, given all the prep work, now I’m considering a side quest in tile production. 🤷‍♂️

Alas, I have been nerd-sniped. Depending on size it’ll be around 400 tiles, and it also means I can perfect the colours and patterns. Cathy is excited about getting a tile rack for the kiln, and given I’m at the studio anyway… I also don’t need them all straight away — I can produce them over the coming months and install them when ready, moving onto the saloon/lounge while I wait.

Luckily one of my side-projects, Pogzul — a pixelated, programmable artboard — will come in handy for designing the kind of tiles I want:

Finally, I was hoping to install the bedroom lighting coves, now screwing them in, but the screws I need didn’t arrive… a “manufactoring delay,” their estimate was updated to October, so I’ve ordered some different ones in the meantime. I continued with the final bits of wood trim, and I’ll start on the varnish next week.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello! Happy warm weather again.

This week, more bedroom trim. I’ve now done most of it, but it’s like playing pick-up sticks and I can only do a few pieces each time while the glue dries:

For the lighting coves I was planning to also glue them, but curving and holding those in place is frustrating so I’ve ordered some more screws.

This afternoon I was about to panel the bathroom ceiling to feel some progress, but then remembered I need to run wiring and pipes above it first… focus, Nicholas! Thankfully the bedroom’s almost done; I can feel the pull of starting the next thing.

Yesterday, Saturday, I took a hiatus to check out Katona’s competition at the Southampton Boat Show. Only expecting to find the sea-faring kind, I was surprised near the entrance to find the one-and-only narrowboat!

The rest were indeed yachts and motorboats:

A bowsprit on Katona and I could sink them all, they wouldn’t stand a chance (but I couldn’t stand a wave).

We dallied awhile with the owner of a semi-custom Rustler 42; beautifully fitted-out, he involved himself throughout the 2-year build and knew the boat inside-out. One of the day’s highlights, and I did like the control panels:

And then we found this speedy-looking red yacht, possibly Katona’s cousin:

A “fast family cruiser,” it looked fancy but I wouldn’t call it cosy — inside it was modern and quite minimalist, nothing homely about it. Not even a fireplace.

Back to (narrow-)boating today, and the marina heron taking flight:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Sunday already?! Golly, after the flurry of woodwork last weekend, it was another of those “have fun programming” weeks.

Buuut on Thursday my new mattress arrived; 4 inches of Reflex Superior™ foam with a 2 inch memory foam layer on top, super king. It’s a rectangle I need to fit in triangular space, so I’ll need a dab hand with a sharp knife. And frankly it’s still wrapped, clean in plastic while I procrastinate on the next job: wood trim.

The edges and corners needed something for a tidy and to cover the gaps, so I’ve gone with a Scotia beading:

B&Q’s finest pine, and I wanted these in before varnishing. Also the lights depend on them — I have a different moulding designed for skirting boards with a little “cove” for the LED strips, which I’ll run just below the ceiling and gunwale. You can see the hole for the wire below the corner above, expertly drilled from the other side.

It’s been another one of those “Pfft, just an afternoon” jobs which I completely mis-judged; there are 3-way mitre joins everywhere, and at weird angles — this isn’t a square box with neat 90° corners.

Finally, I decided that I’m moving off the boat. Waking up one cold morning in my sleeping bag, for the 8th week in a row, I was overcome by a deep sense of “fuck this”. At first I was planning to find an apartment or house-share nearby, but then on Saturday my neighbours knocked to offer me their boat(!!!).

Travelling from mid-October until early June, initially they planned for friends to look after their cat and turn the heating on each week, but then they discovered I was available on the vaga-bond market. One of those true win-wins: they’re happy their boat sees life with a loved cat and thriving plants; I get a cosy home with my workshop 30 seconds away, one pontoon over.

It’s gonna be a hot guy winter.

Until then I shall wander: house-sitting, Airbnb’ing and a little travelling. After I had the thought and started dreaming about hot running water, a warm bed and sawdust-free clothes, it was game over. Tonight is my last sleep on this dusty floor, and I’m so excited for tomorrow.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello, and happy September!

Also, happy 52nd blog post; a year of updates, with a winter hiatus. In those terms we’re definitely past halfway — I don’t think I’ll get to 100 posts before finishing. Then again, I’m terrible at predicting timescales so ignore me.

On Monday I spent 2 hours figuring out which lights to get, with the sweet release of closing every tab after ordering. I’m doing cove lighting — LED strips hidden from view — in the top corners and under the gunwales. A space the size of my bedroom would need around 1000-1500 lumens, but indirect lighting needs more. Nerds of the internet have opinions, but somewhere between 15-20k lumens, depending on which nerd you ask.

Because it’s a narrower space I’ve gone slightly under, around 11k lumens across all 4 strips, with a 2700K colour temperature and a 95 Colour Rendering Index (CRI). CRI measures how well light represents colour compared to a natural source, like daylight. 100 is perfect, the same as incandescent bulbs. Most LEDs sit around 80 and make things look a little drab, and could I have gone with 90? Absolutely, but I’m a pernickety fuck. It’ll be vivid, and so cosy.

For internet posterity here’s what I’ve gone with:

• 24V, 2700K, CRI>95 LED strips from Tagra. They also do water-resistant ones which I'll need for the bathroom.
• A 24V, 150W dimmable LED driver. I’ll only need 100W max for the bedroom, but Tagra’s 100W driver only dims between 20-90%, instead of 10-100% for the 150W+ ones.
• A Varilight V-PRO dimmer, with a screwless, matt black faceplate. It has 2 knobs so the other will control the bathroom, with the second switch in the saloon/lounge.

I originally ordered a V-COM dimmer as recommended by the LEDs, but they only support leading-edge dimming, whereas the more modern trailing-edge is supposedly smoother with less flicker and noise. The “silent operation” on VARILIGHT’s comparison page sold me, along with the option to dim from multiple locations.

Quick aside: electricity flows as a wave (most of the time), and dimmers work by cutting off part of the wave. The leading- vs trailing-edge above refers to which part of the wave you chop. Specifically why cutting the latter part of the wave is quieter I’m not entirerly sure, something to do with the leading-edge being a sudden jump up in voltage making the components buzz. Ask an electrician or physicist, I didn’t finish my electrical engineering degree.

And finally, a roll of 3-core 1.5mm² cable for the lighting circuit:

Orange, to match the boat. And shoutout to Pitacs — they do really nice cable, with good aesthetics (that drum is from Toolstation). The only thing I haven’t found with them was a 2-core 2.5mm², which I got from Oceanflex.

One potential downside to the above is voltage: these aren’t 12V boat lights, it’s mains 230V, meaning I’ll need the inverter running 24/7 when away from shore power. That was already the plan as I’m getting a mains fridge, and let’s face it: I’m going to over-engineer the electrics anyway because I can’t help myself.

For the fitting finishes my options were black or copper. For now I’ve gone with the matt black because this is a boy boat, but I can always change the faceplates later — there are so many options!

And something I’d forgotten, but luckily my dad reminded me of on inspection: edge trim for the gunwale boards. For that I’d need a router, which I acquired on Monday (capitalism wins again).

Routers had always seemed mystical to me, but now I have one and know how simple yet effective they are, I feel mystical; I want to rout all the things with a nice edge. I started with the boards on the port side:

There’s a ~1mm gap where the 2 boards join with the cladding above because I’m slightly incompetent, but I’ve forced it in my “learn to love” bucket. Your bug is my feature; it’s rustic. And the gap underneath with the lower cladding is fine, I’m covering that with a little pine moulding.

On Tuesday afternoon the extra wood arrived, and after unloading and cutting it open, something… felt wrong? Like, a different size. I got out the calipers and sure enough, it was different — thinner! It was ~11mm thick, and didn’t fit anything in the bedroom which, on inspection, was 15mm thick. WTF?!

Annoyed at first they fucked it up, but not here: this wood was the correct size, but the previous order was the thicker cladding. And without a comparison back then, I assumed it was right and cracked on.

No wonder that wood has been a bastard to bend for the bedroom! I’ve been doing this on bloody hard mode. So I acquired a few more of the thicker pieces to seal it off, and now I know what to look for with the rest of the boat: the thinner stuff that won’t even need bending… god dammit.

In other news, I started Saturday by fitting the water tank overflow pump:

Upside down, but it worked like that when I tested in a bucket. And whether it’s strictly necessary I don’t know; there was one before, and it means I don’t have to water-test all the seals around the tank… 🤷‍♂️

After that I carried on with the bow:

Before cutting out the plug sockets and putting the wiring in place, with some dual-channel conduit to separate 12v and 230v circuits (interference, ya know).

On Sunday, today, I finished off all the panelling:

And that part is done! No more panelling! Although for woodwork, I still have the cupboard to build and the bed slats to cut. Details. And there’s varnish and trim to do, so ignore the rough edges. For the varnish I ordered a tin of Ronseal’s mattcoat — I did look into the water-based stuff, but given I’ll use this in the bathroom I want something more durable.

Flooring, a mattress, the lights… we’re close! And a door.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

In carpenting a curved boat bedroom (aka the “forward cabin”), you quickly hit the question of symmetry. Namely, to where do you reference the measurements? It turns out the portholes aren’t in the same place, nor are the steel supports, and it doesn’t help that the boat isn’t level.

Anyway, on Monday I drilled the hole for the water tank “sender” (??? weird name), and then tried to tap the ~39mm hole with this beast:

In hindsight trying to do that by hand with a spanner was ridiculous; it’s an industrial tap designed for lathes or tower drills.

Disheartened, but I had a lucky thought: make the hole bigger, and get a locking nut to use on the other side. That arrived midweek, which I fitted on Saturday:

(The copper pipe is the tank outlet, from whence the water pump shall slurp.)

The sensor doesn’t quite reach the bottom, but that’s fine. They don’t come in 582mm lengths; it was 550 or 600mm.

Also during the week I had a few attempts at fitting this one stubborn piece of wood under the port gunwale, which… after a week of “fuck you”s and “god dammit”s, that same day my persistence prevailed:

On Monday I ordered more wood; enough panelling for the bedroom plus bathroom ceiling, and some pine boards for bathroom shelves and a cupboard at the end of the bed. Originally I planned to buy a sideboard, perfectly-sized, but I’ve resorted to making one instead. I also ordered some floor samples — it feels like that’s creeping up on me.

On Sunday morning I continued with the boards under the starboard gunwale, then wired up the tank sensor in my new soldering workshop:

With that done, I started panelling the bathroom wall:

Behold the chaos, it’s coming together!

Until next Sunday,

- Nick

Troubled by my one-track mind, I had a blast programming this week yet lacked the luster to carpent. But then came Saturday and that all changed, in flow and I wouldn’t stop; I couldn’t find the hours to keep cutting wood.

The portholes-on-pine look so damn good, and cutting slits along the backs has made bending pieces a lot easier.

Unfortunately I will run out of wood, but I’ll try to collect more next week, along with some extra pine I need to build a little cupboard for the end of the bed.

Then it’s just… finish the cladding, get some flooring in, build the cupboard, cut and upholster the mattress and install some lights. Details, really. So close.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Away this weekend, I had a few evenings to continue the bedroom panelling:

The curves are challenging with 12mm-thick wood, but on Friday my dentist had a bright idea, from his experience curving MDF: using a circular saw, cut shallow slits along the wood’s rear to weaken it. More slits for a tighter curve, which I’m excited to try next week.

I also fitted the water tank overflow pipe, which you can just see in the second photo on the left. I’m taking the 2 lower pieces off again to cut those slits, as bending them behind the porthole windows is a little too tight.

And I might just have enough wood, which I’ll find out soon…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello, and happy August!

This week started the carpentry, and sawdust everywhere — in my hair, where I sleep, on the chair, where I eat. I finished the bedroom ceiling, and a top wall:

I knew it already, but now I feel it in my fingers: it’s a lot of angles and curves. I also didn’t order enough wood — it’s not the square-meterage that counts (what I guesstimated), it’s the number of long pieces. And with everything flowing lengthways, I need a lot. Alas, we learn.

And in accidentally ordering pozidriv screws, I came across this meme:

Which couldn’t be more wrong, there is of course a superior screw: torx, the six-pointed star/lobe.

With another weekend offline and in meditative bliss, I’m looking forward to more boat work next week.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Remember the water tank? I forgot something: the level sensor. Previously I knew the water level through vibes, but they’re not always accurate and too many times I’d be mid-shower and hear the dreaded churn of a water-less pump. That arrived this week, and I’m now waiting for a big ‘ol tap to create a thread for it in the top.

Throughout the week I acquired most of the materials for the bedroom: all the cable for the plug sockets, a bunch of dual-channel conduit for the 12v and 230v circuits, copper pipe for the water tank outlet (along with tools to cut and bend it — thank you Dad!), and then on Thursday the wood arrived, all 100kg of it: 20m² of pine cladding, along with a couple of pine boards that I’ll cut to shape and size for under the gunwales.

Then on Thursday I turned my phone off, and after spending half the night throwing up into a bucket I’ve been meditating for the weekend, learning how to sink into my senses and let the wonder overwhelm me.

That’s also the plan next weekend, and in exchange for doing no boat work I’ve taken next week off to focus on that. Tomorrow starts my trial-by-carpentry, and I’m excited to make the first cut.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

There’ve been a few checklists during this project for major milestones, the first being “move back onboard” for getting the bow habitable last year. No stranger to camping, on Tuesday I did that again, airbed and sleeping bag in tow.

It still feels a bit homeless but compared to last year my goodness, the luxury: 24/7/365 mooring, no moving every fortnight; 24/7 mains power, no generator required; a 2-minute walk to a nice shower block, no bottle on the towpath or driving to a nearby gym.

Living like a king, I’ve started on the next milestone: the first night in my new bed, and I am hyped. That means building the bedroom entirely, as the mattress is one of the last items — it depends on the walls for width, and the flooring for length as it’ll sit on a cupboard at the end of the water tank.

And for the walls, wiring… I started looking into that this week, and unlike some of the other work this is one place I can’t screw up. Accidentally using a lower gauge wire, or the wrong fuse? Fire, destruction, death.

So I got the technical spec for boat wiring — ISO 13297 — and it starts out strong:

General requirements, DC and AC systems

The hull of a metallic hull craft shall not be used as a circuit conductor.

I would love to know which poor soul thought saving some cable by turning their boat into a live wire was a good idea.

These specs are not free. And normally, fine — it takes work and expertise to create them. But for the government to then require you comply with them is ridiculous. “Here’re the rules, but first — what’s your card details?” What a racket!!

Also god bless canalworld.net — boat nerds arguing about what regs apply, which circuits are best and how not to fuck-up.

Back onboard, this weekend I built the walls to the bedroom and bathroom, using the pocket door frames. Given I’ve never built a stud wall, nor did I look up instructions, my brother’s voice kept going through my head: “Single-piece flow! Single-piece flow! Single-piece flow!” One wall at a time, piece-by-piece.

(The metal-wrapped timber is where the door slides into.)

Getting them straight wasn’t easy nor are they millimetre-perfect, and gravity wasn’t much help because straightness is according to the boat, which itself tilts on the x and z axes.

Even so, I have zones! I’ve been imagining this geometry for over a year, and it’s suddenly real. I can stand in the bathroom and see where the shower fits, or where I’ll put the wardrobe in the bedroom.

And finally, I finished the stern battens this morning to then empty the insulation tanks this afternoon:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

When I pressure-washed the water tank last Sunday, I dried it out but not quickly enough: it started flash rusting… but this time I only needed a quick angle grind with a wire brush, followed by a regular vacuum and wipe-down before it was ready to paint.

The paint I’m using — the right one this time! — is Acothane, a 2-component polyurethane designed for water tanks. It’s the weirdest paint I’ve used; the first thing you notice (besides the beautiful cerulean blue) is the clotted cream-like base. The hardener is like syrup, and together they make a whipped cream.

Then the timing: you have 24 hours to overcoat it, and after mixing you have 30 minutes until it becomes unpaintable molasses (of course the data sheet says “DO NOT THIN”). It’s a real workout, and with the time limit and some morning coffee shits you really start to sweat.

Because of all the odd metal bits and joins in there, a full coat takes about 90 minutes, and I needed 3 coats: 9 painting sessions, all tightly packed. It’s the most painting logistics fun I’ve had, and will maybe ever have. And I didn’t get thinners either, so I couldn’t clean brushes, rollers or myself:

It needed a special “Thinner No. 4”; your regular acetone or white spirit won’t cut it. But this morning I finished coat #9 on the floor, and it is done! I have a potable drinking water tank, wide enough to sleep in!!

The hatch gives you a better idea of the colour:

When my time comes I don’t expect a burial, but if I were buried then I’d like the inside of the coffin to be cerulean blue, from experience. It’s delightful.

In some other exciting news, insurance got back to me about the sinking and agreed to cover it citing “an extensive chine.” They said they wouldn’t cover me for any other chine-related sinkings until I ensmallen it, and then my renewal quote came through for £2.17 less than last year?!

I’ve also started designing the kitchen, and making plans for the underfloor heating. The unknowns are starting to crystallize which just fuels the momentum. There’ll be two heating zones — bedroom/bathroom and lounge/kitchen — as I’d like warm tiles in the summer without heating the whole boat. To make it more complicated there’ll be two heat sources: a diesel water heater in the engine bay, and there’s also a back-boiler on the multi fuel stove. I’ll have to be careful with the stove though, as that can boil water instead of just warming it.

On Wednesday I finalised the window order — 10 of them, double-glazed “thermal break” — followed by ordering some kits for the pocket doors (ones that slide into walls). This is when the rebuild gets expensive… although I’m having a lot of fun, no longer the dread of a horrible day cleaning that tank.

Then with some odd spots of insulation to do in the bow, on Saturday I finished off the battens:

Followed by masking tape:

Which really accentuates the strong Steiner angles, and they give me +3 points when I sleep. Then today, after painting the tank, insulation!

It wasn’t a lot so I only got a small kit, and there’s a little to do at the stern as well. For the last bit of work today, I installed a shiny new water filler cap:

Don’t mind the unsightly paint around it, all in due course…

In a final piece of incredibly exciting news: as of 10:04 this morning I officially own 100% of Katona. I had a loan to buy it, and today was the final payment.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

The car won’t start, it’s falling apart. — Shania Twain

But I was not late for work: I took Monday off this week, starting with a trip to Tamworth — an hour away — to pick up some extra insulation. Not long after leaving I fell slightly forwards as the clutch pedal went limp… oh George:

We were back in business with a tow and a car rental, but… honestly. It was the clutch cable that went, so not major but I’d still like the van to last until the boat’s done.

Back onboard, Thursday evening I re-welded a loose angle bracket in the water tank, as well as some gaps around the edges. They were previously covered with sealant, but when you can fuse metal, everything looks fusible.

Then on Friday evening, I cleaned up the bow area to put some primer on before I can insulate the odd sections:

The next morning I took the boat outside the marina to keep the peace, starting with a new hole in the hull for the bathroom sink. Then, re-welding the failed hatch rail and finally the kitchen window frames. They were a mess, and leaked:

They still leak, but that’s now just missing sealant.

This Sunday I finished removing the paint from the water tank corners, with a screwdriver, followed by a good pressure wash until the water was clear. Very satisfying, followed by drying it out. The dehumidifier was snug:

In other news, I’ve decided to paint the boat orange (hence the blog’s new theme). Exact RAL TBD, but vibrant. Maybe RAL 2009, “Traffic Orange”…

And there’s now a gallery! All the photos I’ve uploaded, in chronological order, each linking to the post it came from.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello, and happy June’s end!

Chaotic is an understatement, as I’ll be moving back onboard a little sooner than I thought: 2 weeks to get all the messy work out of the way, with final bits of insulation ready for the re-build.

To start with on Monday evening, I went over to install the brass hatch sliders. I got one of them in, making a right mess in the process — sealant everywhere, which is too grippy. But, shiny!

Also, the roof! 😍

On Tuesday evening I went to do the other side, but first I broke the thread tap and had to drill it out, and then the welding on the guide rail failed… so, yep: that needs cleaning up, re-welding and 3 coats of the faff-to-mix paint. Another one for (near-)future Nick.

Then, what I’d been procrastinating on: back to the water tank. This weekend I spent many-an-hour in there, caked up in rust and paint dust. Grim, but I’ve finished the angle grinding part. A few corners to do manually before I can deep-clean it (with a pressure washer this time!), and then the paint. A little bit of progress, every day.

I also replaced one of the porthole windows that chipped in transit with a new piece of borosilicate glass, and… it’s chonky! 15mm deep! Completely over-engineered, as it should be.

(This is the old one, but the dimensions are identical.)

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Roof or bust, I spent most evenings during the week getting it ready to paint, like masking it with the help of a duck:

And on Monday I also picked up the vents which I had powder coated, now in matt black:

Those I installed on Tuesday evening, and I had to move the boat across the marina when… the engine wouldn’t go. The started solenoid would engage, but not turn. Figuring this was post-sinking damage I took it to the same guy who replaced the solenoid a few months back, at Auto Electrics in Redditch. He was excellent, a joy to talk with and clearly knew his shit.

He started taking it apart, and quickly found the issue: the motor ran fine, but the solenoid contacts were covered in water and oil, starting to corrode. But… it’s only two months old?! I asked him to look at the motor itself, and that too was dripping in oil, which… eurgh. Likely cause: an oil leak from the crankshaft with a broken seal.

That, to replace, is a bitch: it means taking the gearbox out and who knows what else. We sighed, we laughed. But then I went for a walk and lay in a field of chamomile, so who’s really winning?

This can be a future Nick problem; I currently have a home to build and no travel plans. And then I bolted in the porthole window glass!

Just, wonderful. 🤌

Finally, on Friday, I got the first coat of paint on the roof. Very satisfying, although the anti-slip grit was a bit uneven… in hindsight it was insane to think I’d get a perfect distribution with a roller; of course not. Another one where my skill is simply no match for my expectations, but you know what? I still love it.

And it’s grippy! Compared to the near past it looks incredible, and I can only assume the local wildlife think so too because they just love taking a shit on it.

GET OFF MY ROOF!!

On Saturday I did the second coat — the masking tape took as long as the painting — and… that’s it! Done! THE ROOF IS DONE?! I’ve still to fit the hatch, but details, details…

To celebrate I got the angle grinder and spent an hour in the water tank:

It goes quickly but… damn, we suffer for the cause.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello!

This week, roof painting! Or attempts at it… because I’ve chosen to do it with 2 different colours, and some with anti-slip grit, that’s 3 combinations, each needing 2 coats, drying time and good weather.

The paint I’m using is Sigmadur 520, a 2-pack that needs mixing in a silly ratio: 88:12 of base to hardener. Which is fine if you’re doing the whole lot, but I only needed a little each time for the handrails. I started with 750ml (way too much), but accurately measuring 660ml of goopy paint with 90ml of the hardener wasn’t gonna happen. So: weight, but the data sheet only had the combinedmass density making that impossible.

Luckily I found the safety sheets for each component, hidden away with all the fun toxological stuff. Did you know that feeding a population of average lab rats ~1.3 grams of xylene kills half of them? Of course the paint itself wasn’t tested, but the ingredients have known figures. For humans we only have estimates, and it looks like I’d need to drink the whole 480ml tub of hardener for irresurrectable issues.

Buried in there I found the mass densities: 1.39 for the base, and 1.07 for the hardener, and thus I could weigh it accurately. Modern chemistry is a bloody wonder, can you imagine if I had to mix ground bugs with tree sap for this?!

I did two coats early in the week, and it’s the best this handrail’s ever looked:

Unfortunately I could see a few dots of rust building up — parts where the roof had pitted, and the primer didn’t hold — so on Wednesday evening I stripped those back to re-prime generously.

I had also ordered some hatch runners, a “standard” size with 6 ft strips of brass. Then I went to try them on, and… the hatch runs on 1900mm rails?! Literally 71mm too long, wtf. Maybe I should measure more often, the “vibes first, measure second” approach keeps biting me.

On Friday I was about to paint around the roof’s edge where I don’t want the grippy stuff, then God started taking a leak… this June weather is fucking with me, but I got it done on Saturday afternoon instead, with the second coat this here Sunday morning. Just 2 more rounds until the roof is done!

Yes, the mooring angle is intentional…

With time to spare, I finally got around to welding in the porthole windows, and OH MY GOD. They’re bloody beautiful.

I spattered a bit with the welding so I’ve blacked them around inside; waiting for that to dry until I put the glass on. The red areas are where I’ve put some anti-rust primer before I re-insulate, and I stripped back some of the old insulation for new battens.

I’m so happy with them, and it feels like I’m quickly getting to the “re-build the boat” part. But the water tank is looming…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

28 weeks later, I made it!

Katona is permanently moored for the first time in a year, what a trip.

I spent a few evenings hopping up the river, reaching Stratford on Wednesday. I called a taxi to get back to the car — Tom’s taxis, in Bidford — and told him where I was… “Is this the same guy that called yesterday?” he asked. “Haha yes, yes it is” I said, and Tom responded “Nick!! I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”

Let’s ignore the front window, but from afar looking rather spiffy.

Then, back to work: on Saturday I took the boat just outside to finish sanding the handrails (“No sanding in the marina” I was told, which… fair enough), but luckily it was close enough to run an extension cable. 8 hours later I trudged back in, filthy and exhausted, and I still hadn’t sanded the hatch.

Another day, another barrel of energy I returned this Sunday morning to finish it off, hoping to start on the portholes by evening. But with the all the prep work — finishing the hatch, removing the overnight rust spots and cleaning the surface — by the time I put down the brush I couldn’t believe it was 8pm.

And yet, progress is sweet.

Maybe I’ll get to the portholes next week, but we have 2 more roof coats to do — that was just the primer.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

My neck, my back… happy June! As of writing I am nursing some herbal tea after a long day of sanding, painting, and re-floating Katona for a cruise:

The last few days have been a crunch, but it all started on Monday with a 12-hour sanding sesh, stripping back another ~60% of the roof:

I could hardly walk the next day; nicotine for breakfast just to put me right.

The utility of sandpaper follows some law of exponential drop-off: It’s great for a short while, before quickly dropping to a slow crusade of being shite. Too lazy for the hard labour of worn-out disks, I…

Then, work, but on Wednesday the porthole windows arrived, 6 weeks early and I am THRILLED. They’re not exactly portholes per se, but sight glass used in pharma, chemical and food industries. Almost bomb-proof and designed for welding onto tanks at high pressures and temperatures, they’re another feather in Katona’s “I’m a floating tank” hat.

Felt very grateful for the global economy this week, it all came together in support of this project — the windows from China, welding wire made in India, shipped from California, and the countless other bobs I’ve depended on.

Friday I continued sanding, fixed some of the railings, welded over old kitchen sink holes and took the tiller out. Luckily I also had help — mum and my step-dad, David, joined to help with blacking the hull — as my “time optimism” was getting the better of me, and mum knew it: 3 days left with more plans than hours to fulfil them.

That evening I finished the first coat, then back early doors to sand some more and weld the tiller tube back in, followed by the second coat. Once more with a hand from mum, then a friend came to help finish the last bit with a G&T.

This morning I did a few final jobs before re-floating, and then I could tackle the roof. First to lightly sand it for good measure and juju, then wash it down with white spirit before getting the paint on.

This was SigmaCover 350, a 2-component epoxy primer and it smells like the word toxic; they are one, they are the same. I didn’t have time to sand the rest of the railings, so that’ll be the next job before I can do the topcoats.

The little jaunt I did up the Avon to find a mooring was lovely, and the first place I found was by a caravan site. “Mooring” also felt like a stretch, it was more “run aground and tie the boat there.”

Now I went to take a photo, just as my phone died… about 3 miles from the van. Luckily I looked at the map shortly before, so off I trotted. At least until I reached the main road, where I hitch-hiked for the first time…

Initially ignored by some guy in a Jaguar, but then 2 guys in a white van stopped and saved me 20 minutes. They were lovely, intrigued by my dishelleved look, covered in grit and paint; I felt immensely grateful. “Been there mate, no point walkin’ when you can get a lift” the driver said.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

There are many things where in order to do the thing, you spend a lot of time doing another thing in prep for the main thing. Painting is like this, just like welding, or sales. Eventually you need to pick up the phone, or a brush, yet this week I spent a lot of time on prep.

But first thing, the dry dock! It was finally free, and I booked it for 8 days from Saturday the 25th (yesterday, as of writing).

Second thing, roof colours: I flicked through my new RAL swatch and decided on 7047 with hints of 7046, two of the telegreys. Inoffensive and easy to match, as I don’t yet know what main colour to go for. Green, orange, yellow, purple!?

After that I whacked, cut and ground out the old throttle pillar to clean it up:

…before welding on a new plate:

…and then welding the pillar back in place:

And then I got a super exciting email: “Order 3035106726154794 has shipped” — the portholes are en route! With FedEx!

On Saturday it was time to leave, and the boatyard and Katona parted ways:

(I’m tempted to get a flag for the boat… maybe an ensign?)

A friend of mine then joined and we fought our way upstream against the current, stopping for a G&T at a pub on the river. A few locks later, docking!

A mostly dry dock — the river’s a little high after the rain, so ~a foot of water comes back through the exit gate.

Sunday morning I came back to weld the previously-unreachable side of the throttle pillar, then take out the tiller and rudder before sanding back the roof.

It happens every time, I think “pfft, sanding, in a jiffy” then 8 hours later I look behind and there’s just so much roof to go.

Counting down the meters, it’s a summer for the boys.

It feels great taking back the old paint to bare steel, but as you go it’s a delicate balance between “this is so satisfying” and “this fucking sucks. fuck this.”

Reminded me of this meme:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hallo!

This week I finally unpacked the welder, to then find it was plug-less. The manual insisted you find a qualified electrician and only use a 16 amp circuit, so I wired it up to a 13 amp lead and hoped for the best. And it’s a wonder.

But without steel I was useless, and in the meantime ordered some portholes, made in China, and I’ve a feeling they’re being sent via ship… hopefully they’ll arrive before the summer’s over.

Then, Saturday: the engine bay bulkhead. I cleaned up the areas, ground them back to bare steel and cut me some shapes to fit the holes:

Now you’re meant to tune this welder to the materials you’re joining, and let me say I tried. The second one on the left went much better, but I’m still learning:

(The holes I drilled for cabling, which I’ll seal later.)

I wouldn’t put my life on their watertight-ness, but with paint to fill in the pin-holes and insulation on top, we won’t repeat the previous sinking. Then after cleaning the welder debris and putting out some fires, the first coat of primer:

The smell of paint again was refreshing, it reminds me of progress.

It was one of those long, wonderful days, and it only continued today. For one I turned 29, one of the primes of my life, then got to fixing younger Nick’s mistakes… in February I crashed into a bridge, very slowly, but enough to bend the front T-bar cleat:

I was full-throttle reverse, but 5 seconds too late; momentum’ll get ya. So today I whacked it off, cleaned it up and re-welded it, followed by a coat of primer:

The little things, the satisfying things. I gave it a knock with a sledge hammer to check its sturdiness, and like before it’s “moor the boat” secure, just not “hit a bridge” secure.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hallo!

After the cleaning sesh last weekend, Monday morning felt light; it was satisfying to pressure wash again, although the engine oil was stubborn. Even with a few degreasing rounds it was truly soaked in, but everything is spick compared to last week and I’ll go over it with some fresh insulation anyway.

I then cut out the old solar panel and tried hammering back the throttle pillar, which wouldn’t budge, so Plan B: cut it out completely, weld on some fresh plate and then re-fit the pillar (I’m currently waiting for steel).

Then, admin: I booked the window measurers for June, bought some bolts and set out to find the paint colour for restoring the engine. But googling “emerald green BMC 1.8 enamel” left me paintless, and I didn’t have many ideas…

Stumped, I threw some goat bones, then telephoned Calcutt Boats and whispered a special incantation. 10 minutes later after rummaging in their containers, I received an electronic letter from Roger with some sacred glyphs: H6 Green B3, along with an 11-digit number. I punched the number into my handheld and heard a woman’s voice…

“Hello, Cromadex, how can I help?”

Anxious, I recited the glyphs and she responded “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” and hung up. The next day I hear a knock at the door, and a man dressed in white hands me a round metal tub. I open it, nervous, and uncover a silky emerald liquid…

The paint, it fits. Almost giddy I could hardly believe it, the glyphs they worked; the money-to-goods exchange worked.

Then on Tuesday morning I received another message: “Hoping to fly this evening if I can get some more crew. Are you free? About 1800 my place.”

But George (le van) was at the garage, and I responded with a likely no… until I was called to pick him up in the afternoon: flying was on. Only expecting to help with ropes, I was caught off-guard and slightly shaky as the pilot said “hop in,”and off we floated. For 90 minutes we ballooned over the Worcestershire countryside, the Safari Park and Severn Valley Railway until we eventually landed on the other side of the River Severn.

Can you find the giraffes?

It was phenomenal; after this boat malarkey I’m getting me a hot air balloon. Forever may the chaos continue.

Then with a few days away I didn’t get much more than pottering done this weekend, but an epiphany on how I’ll do the portholes…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

This week I took a hiatus from Katona for a few days to pootle up the east coast on another red boat that’s joined the Goodall family: Que Sera, which my brother Tim bought last month.

Besides a diesel engine and the concept of a “hull,” they couldn’t be more different. One can sail across oceans, the other has a log burner; one requires charts and VHF training, the other works with Google Maps and a phone call. Although we did pass through a lock!

We set sail on Sunday afternoon from Kent, up and out of the River Medway to the Thames Estuary and into the North Sea. In the estuary we passed the shipwreck of SS Richard Montgomery, sat on a sand bank with its 3 masts poking out and 1,400 tons of unexploded ammunition from World War II. It was a cargo ship travelling from the USA in 1944, and sank only a year after building:

(Squint and you’ll see the masts.) 4 buoys mark the danger zone, and each year the government surveys it while everyone hopes the bombs stay unexploded…

Back onboard, wind behind us and we were flying. I saw 6 knots (6.9mph!) on the speedometer a few times, and we continued through the night with the flashing cardinal’s marking our way — black and yellow buoys indicating safe water. By this point I felt queazy as we sailed across the waves, making it extra bobby. Come 4am after we secured the mainsail when a shackle broke, I was horribly sick — the painful, acidic kind, and it quickly put an end to my fun.

Cold, ill and tired is the trifecta of not wanting to be at sea, and that morning we (Tim, probably, thankfully) decided to head into port at the UK’s easternmost point. Although part of me felt like it was giving up, my senses came back after a shower and good food. With the wind less than ideal, continuing north would’ve been a lot more of the same; that evening we looked at each other with a nodding understanding that yes, we were cutting the trip short.

On Tuesday we took trains westward after cleaning, and for me that meant back to Katona: last Saturday I left the boat at a yard on the Avon while I wait for the dry dock, and it’s turned into a great little spot with excellent van access.

First up: remove the rubbish. After 2 vanloads it was looking a bit less recently-salvaged, and I spent the next 2 days cleaning tools and sorting the bobs out.

Today I went back to play with 2 new toys: a pressure washer, and a water vacuum. The vacuum feels like it shouldn’t work, it’s magical and so satisfying — hoovering up a line of dust is delightful on any day, but a puddle of water?!

It took longer than I thought, but I managed to clean the front half of the boat inside, removing all the silt, grease and unfortunately some of the insulation (it is a water jet…). I’ll finish the other half tomorrow, but it’s starting to look like a boat I can renovate again! No longer its canal-infested self, it’s nice to think about and plan for what’s next.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

There’s a twist to Murphy’s law for the clothes you wear while renovating, and a lesson I keep re-learning: no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you will become dirty. Every time I’ve thought “I’m only tootling up the river,”nope: regret. Exhaust soot from the stern mooring line, grease from touching something inside — it never ends, even with overalls.

But this week, the Avon. 😍

First thing on Monday I went back to Tewkesbury to pass the one lock with a keeper; he’d been volunteering for 20 years, and although he declined my coffee offer he did convince me to buy a navigation guide, and wished me well.

Then onwards up the river, and it reminded me of the Thames between Reading and Oxford — wide open cruising through some of our finest countryside, and it is stunning.

Unfortunately the only day with sunshine I forgot to take photos, but opening the weed hatch I discovered a small strap around the propeller:

And another thing about the Avon — you can see! It’s mostly clear, which makes everything that bit nicer; the plants in the water, the occasional fish, the bottom of the hull needing TLC. Well, I could see in the water… coming out of a lock, I wasn’t paying attention to a handle protruding from the gate:

Oops. I did laugh; this boat will be phenomenal when I’m done.

On Thursday I called the dry dock to make plans, and I found out why their booking calendar is empty: a big ‘ol tree, uprooted and in the way. They said it should be cleared in May, and until then I’ve found another marina near Evesham. So Friday and Saturday morning I spent cruising up the river, through 4 locks to where I’ll settle in for the next few weeks and continue with other work. Also one diamond-shaped lock! The one and only I’ve ever seen:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

This week the lights were green, the river was open! Then on Tuesday I got an email asking me to move, and fair enough: it was a 2-day mooring, and I got there 2 weeks ago. So today, dad and I took the the boat southward to Tewkesbury at an astonishing 5 knots, possibly a Katona speed record.

It was a glorious day for it, and the wide expanse was a welcome change to the narrow canals:

With some wonderful countryside:

Worcester cathedral in the background:

And at Diglis, the lock keeper told dad off for standing near the edge without a life jacket…

It felt great to make progress again, and the cherry on top was an industrial bin where we moored for the night. Still a mess inside, but 10 bags less so.

Now on the Avon — with different rules and a separate licensing scheme — I can head eastward to Stratford, via a dry dock for painting and repairs!

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

“The waiting is the hardest part.” – Tom Petty

With the Severn still closed, le boat waits quietly, patiently, until the river is ready for careening. But that didn’t stop some progress!

This morning I went over to clear things, run the engine and make some measurements for dry dock work which I planned this week, ready for when that may be. That also means new item shopping, like a welder! :D

Besides that, insurance called to talk about the surveyor returning to measure the hull (who’s liable?), and I re-started pottery in my quest to make the boat’s crockery. And from 2 weeks back, when a furry friend made himself welcome:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello! This week was exciting like I’d hoped for on the canals: uneventful.

Monday I went to the boat for more carnage clearing, and to take photos for insurance. I also started the engine, right away, delightfully — it starts quicker and runs smoother than pre-dunking. Here’s Henry:

On Thursday the insurance inspector came, and he knew the score; a ”salty dog” that built his own narrowboat in the 70s, minus the salt. He took some photos, we chatted, and he asked who did my spray foaming. “That’s the one thing I’ve never done,” he said. “I always get the professionals in.”

The professionals, you say? T’was I.

The big event for me was Saturday: moving to Stratford-upon-Avon. I am officially housed — I have mains water! And mains sewage! No longer in a field, I have to admit this is glorious; the only thing missing is a boat nearby to finish renovating — I now have a bet to complete it by the end of September.

This morning I went over to continue cleaning, as for now I’m waiting for the River Severn to open…

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Oh buoy. This week Katona sank, but let’s back up.

Last Sunday ended with the boat wedged on some debris in a lock, CRT inbound on Monday morning. I got there at 0750 to meet Joe & Simon, and after hatching a plan to un-wedge it I went to start the engine. Only it was underwater, and looking inside the cabin was filling up with oily water, too:

Things went quickly, so I called the River Canal Rescue and waited to hear back. Within 2 hours the boat sunk to the bottom of the lock:

Luckily that only went up 1m inside, as going under completely would’ve really been a downer:

As for why it sank, locks always leak a little and being wedged the water built up behind, which eventually breached one of the drains to the deck, and one thing lead to another.

That afternoon the CRT dedicated a notice in Katona’s honour and some contractors came to assess the sitch, but without a license from the CRT to work in the dark we agreed to meet at 0800 on Tuesday morning.

Sure enough, right on time, they show up with a boat load of kit and their monster truck, a 20t winch:

The plan was simple: 1) drain the canal, 2) drain the boat, 3) seal the boat 4) raise the canal, and maybe 5) winch the boat out, if it was truly stuck.

Me: There are portholes in the front by the way.
Recovery team: Portholes?? Where?
Me, pointing at the bow under water: Right there, 2 on each side under the water.
Them: Portholes?! Under the gunwale?! Do you know if the glass broke or cracked?
Me: Glass? I’m renovating at the moment, I took them out. Hadn’t got to that part.
Them, looking at me in disbelief: …

To be clear, the portholes in the front were not why it sank: they’re normally above the waterline, and the stern went first.

Because the pound was somewhat small, draining meant simply opening the next lock’s paddles, and didn’t need an entire canal:

Oh and we found a motorbike under the bow (not why it got stuck):

The recovery team then got their pumps out to empty the boat, which was around 40t of water I figure, a little too much for me to lift:

Not long after with the boat mostly drained, they boarded up the portholes and plugged any water entry points, like drain pipes and vents. Then, the moment of truth: slowly fill the canal.

Although I originally got wedged on a piece of debris (wood, probably?), the boat was 1m lower and jammed at an angle in the lock: the starboard side against the gunnel, and the port side along the “chine” — a sacrificial edge at the bottom of the boat, which I learned was kinda huge (I’ll trim that).

Luckily that wasn’t an issue, and as if by magic (buoyancy? Archimedes?!) when the water level rose so did the boat. A few minutes later and it was level, floating once more and free to go. We jumped on the roof to push it out of the lock, and glide it did! I was beaming to say the least; as if Katona was coming out of a cave, she had risen.

It wasn’t over for the CRT though: the lock gates now wouldn’t close. When you drain the pound, things move at the bottom and here was no exception, so we pulled the boat through the next lock — successfully! by hand! — so they could drain it once more to fix the gates.

And although I was on a high, my work had just begun: the boat was a mess, and the engine had been underwater for 2 days. I had to get it running, pronto.

I started by draining the rest of the water out of the bay, then pumped out another 6l from the engine itself before I hit oil. After that I took the injectors off to get the cylinder water out by cranking a few times, and I didn’t appreciate how much power the starter had until 4 oily jet streams went flying over the towpath. Luckily nobody was around, but I did lose a bunch of injector washers.

Wednesday morning I went back to change the oil, replace the fuel filter, and everything was ready to go. I wired up the ignition, turned the key and started cranking. It sounded promising and I heard a few cylinder fires, but the starter motor solenoid puffed a whole lotta smoke:

(Photo from earlier, I took that to remember the wiring colours.)

Hoping the starter itself was okay, I called around to see who had a spare and found a place in Redditch that not only had a one but would fit it for me! So off I went and 2 hours later returned, starter motor in hand, ready to rumble.

Once more I wired up the ignition, turned the key, and the ol’ engine sputtered to life. It started a little grumpy, but was running smoothly in short order:

Honestly I just love diesel engines. I took them for granted until I replaced the head gasket on this one last year, but they’re so magical. After running for a couple of hours I headed home, finally set to do a day of £££ work on Thursday.

And although the engine ran, there was constant white smoke from the exhaust, which probably meant water in the diesel. So on Friday I filtered the fuel to fix that, then set out to find some electricity for draining the residual water in the boat. Luckily somebody I met on Monday walked by, and I told them what I was up to; they suggested I moor up alongside their little boat just 200m down the canal…! What luck!

So that I did, motored down to find Steve, Liz and their boat Froxfield at the bottom of their garden to borrow some electricity. After pumping the water out they offered a cup of tea and a tour of their boat, which was a lovely 30ft “campervan on the water.”

While draining the water tank I had a look around, and… little sigh. The paint in there was bubbling, and easily scraping off. I’m not sure if that’s because of the water, but I’d only done the primer undercoats and not the water-safe overcoat:

On Saturday I changed the oil once more, including for the gearbox, and with help from a friend took the boat through the 2 final narrow locks — the last being the narrowest of them all on this stretch! — without a hitch to the edge of Worcester, waiting for the River Severn when it opens.

A chaotic week, but there were a lot of silver linings which made staying upbeat a doddle: only a half-sunken boat; having bought the nice water-proof insulation; not having finished the nice fit-out. And this was a minor incident compared to other boats this week…

Coding is great, but I do love working on the boat. It feeds my soul, and I’m excited for a summer of it.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

You’re not gonna believe this, but first: happy Sunday!

Moving the boat on weekends is normally quite chill: cruise a little, do some locks, cruise a bit more. Yesterday I plodded along for about 8 miles, through 1 little tunnel:

And did 10 locks, until I reached one that wouldn’t open:

Some debris had jammed the gate from beneath, and try as I did it wouldn’t budge. I called the CRT to let them know, and by the morning they had fixed it! The joys, the wonders. When I left that evening I also noticed something funny with one of the kitchen windows:

Condensation… between the panes of glass, aka glazing glaze, aka window sweat, aka I need a new window. At least it was an older one, and I know what I’m doing this time.

Then, today… I was making great progress into Worcester, did a bunch of locks, and then deja vu struck: I was stuck. Utterly wedged once more, coming out of a lock. It was apparently wider at the bottom so I tried lowering the water level, but that made things worse:

You’re not supposed to see under the boat when it’s in the water, and raising the level again started sinking the stern:

So the bilge pump was working overtime to drain the flooded engine bay:

Eventually the stern freed itself, and with help from the lovely locals we managed to move the boat forward almost 5 metres, until we ran out of water to create waves and called it a day

Luckily I’m not on the boat and can enjoy central heating for the night in a cosy field, ready to meet the CRT tomorrow morning (I bet they love me).

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello! Happy Sunday, happy March, happy 2024.

There are updates! Some quite old now; I forgot to write about them and… one Sunday turned into 12.

Last time we left off with the boat wedged in a lock, waiting for the CRT to sort my shit out. They did come, and they did help, and the outcome was made abundantly clear: we’re not gonna make it. Even if I made it through this lock there were narrower ones ahead, and Stratford was a no-go. Hrm.

With my course charted, I reversed a mile back up the canal with help from mum, and because it can’t reverse she had to keep it straight with the stern line, myself on the helm. It looked exhausting — the boat is heavy!! — but also a little funny <3. It also meant passing the Edstone Aqueduct again, the longest cast-iron one in the UK:

Heading in the right direction, I holed up in a nearby marina for the rest of December and most of January. This was type 2 fun, effectively camping in the blustery weather. And then my diesel heater stopped working…

A few Airbnb’s later I had a plan: head to the river Severn and take the boat to a yard where I could stick it on land to finish the reno, while I once again lived in a field. Life may not repeat, but it rhymes — this time in a caravan, and the central heating is incredibly welcome!

Also someone stole my solar panel..? May the sun’s rays forever trickle charge their batteries. Continuing north, I touched the edge of Birmingham before heading south west toward the Severn, passing a “boat guillotine” (actually a stop lock, used to separate the water levels when they were a few inches apart):

Then, tunnels! I had no idea what was coming, and suddenly saw a hole in the hillside that went on for 2.5km:

Without a boat lamp I strapped a bike light to the front and put a head torch on, and forged ahead for the 40 minute journey. It was cold, damp and glorious — I passed another boat in there, and switched off my lights halfway through to bask in the darkness — all I could see where these 2 pinpricks of light, each 1246.5 meters away.

All was well, and while the yard I was heading to had a crane, it wasn’t big enough for my boat — I’d have to spend several coin purses to get a bigger one so I started looking for alternatives, namely dry docks nearby. First one in Worcester, then I found a DIY one on the river Avon in the middle of nowhere… most of the way to Stratford… where I still had that mooring deposit…

So last Wednesday I woke up looking for apartments in Worcester, and that evening signed on a place in Stratford. Moving in a few weeks, I shall be housed for the first time in years and I CAN’T WAIT. After doing the dry dock work I’ll finish the fit-out in the marina, and be walking distance from my fixed abode with mains water and sewage(!!!).

So, progress! With work taking up my weeks, boating is my weekend gig as I continue moving it west to Worcester, then down the Severn before heading back to Stratford along the Avon. And yesterday I did another 31 locks:

Saying I did 31 locks is a little rich; a friend came to help, and it was the first day they’d been open all winter so there were CRT volunteers galore (a lovely man named David in the photo above). We also passed a radio operator, which was very cool:

Until next Sunday, the party has now started again :)

- Nick

Happy Sunday, the week before Christmas! I am Stratford-bound and writing to you from a lock, well-and-truly wedged. But let’s back up.

Two-and-a-half weeks ago I set out westward, and something happened when I thought “Ooh, this is blog-worthy.” I started the engine and set off one morning, but after speeding up I couldn’t slow down. The throttle was stuck; I had to manually pull it back on the engine itself, both going forwards and in reverse.

Confused, I remembered something my sister told me years ago: follow the wire. To figure out systems like this — engines, plumbing, wiring — follow the pipe, follow the wire, to see where it goes (this applies to programming as well). From the engine to the pillar holding the thottle lever, I ran my hand along the wire and, well, part of it was melted. Specifically, the part resting on the diesel heater exhaust. Fucktard Nick strikes again!

Laughing, I took a knife to strip it back. The cable was inside plastic inside more cable with an outer plastic sheath — lots to melt, and you can see the outer layers above. After cutting away the melty parts it was good as new, with some duck tape for “protection.” Future Nick can deal with replacing that, as a treat.

Anyway, progress! The weekends since have been whittling down those 82 locks, sometimes in the dark:

And a pumpkin patch!

And then, Friday… On my 3rd lock of the afternoon, as the light was fading, I wedged ol’ Katona between a lock and the gate. A nearby boater heard my engine and helped in the dark, but full throttle either way and “flooding” the lock with water from above, nothing worked. The next morning we tried again, and I called the Canal & River Trust (CRT) for the first time in 3½ years to report my boat-shaped blockage. An hour later Mike came along, unfortunately under-equipped to get the boat moving. Hmmf.

By this time Dad was there; we kept trying, and… snap? Crackle? POP?! With Dad on the forward roof trying to unwedge things, something gave way and we were free! Getting the boat out was that wonderful feeling of excitiment and disbelief, it worked! The rest of the day was uneventful smooth-sailing, cruising south through 11 more locks.

And that brings me to the here and now, after another day of 9 locks. I am once again spending the night with the sound of gushing water, wedged in the lock unable to move. Whereas yesterday the boat was stuck on the gate, this time it’s the walls holding tight, like the trash compactor in Star Wars.

I called CRT for the second time in two days, and on this here Sunday evening two lovely guys showed up to assess. Unfortunately there wasn’t much to do, and I’d tried the tricks already, so that’s where we float: wedged, with a narrowboat too wide (or a lock too small?).

Tomorrow I’ll have another crack, and the CRT may send a crew out, otherwise I’ll have to call the specialists in dealing with these kerfuffles: the River Canal Rescue. Either way, the one thing I’m hoping for is that everything will go forward. I have a marina to get to!

And in other exciting news, I took the boat over a railway today:

Happy Sunday!

- Nick

Hello!

Winter’s a coming, and I’m getting through a lot of diesel out here in the sticks, not to mention the inconvencience of, you know, having to find somewhere to work, and shower…

The thought of a marina crossed my mind, many a time, and on Friday I finally put down a deposit for one in Stratford-upon-Avon, a mere 82 locks and 35 miles away… hmm, but exciting.

That evening I set sail, turning the boat around and making haste by moonlight:

Until another boat informed me of a blockage I forgot to check for… it’s winter working season for the CRT, and a nearby flight of locks is closed for a couple of weeks while they replace a gate, so it’ll be mid-December when I get there (hopefully).

Boat progress is nonetheless grinding to a halt while I focus on work and keeping warm, and it won’t be until next year when I ramp up again (£££). I’ll write an update when I get to Stratford in 2 or 3 weeks, but otherwise I’m hitting pause on this here blog, after exactly 6 months — 26 weekly updates!

In the meantime, here’s a photo from yesterday:

Until… soon!

- Nick

This is the first update about the boat where I haven’t seen it all week, so to fill the void of progress here are some old photos from when I first got the boat.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

This too was a slow week for reasons (programming); it goes that way sometimes. But in exciting news I do start some new work tomorrow! Boat progress will slow down for a while, maybe months, and that’s okay; I can definitely finish it now.

In the meantime here are some photos from when I moved the boat on Friday, followed by walking back along the canal to fetch the van:

It’s lovely around here!

I’m away for the next week so expect another light update, but I’ll write something regardless.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Happy November! Strap in for a short one; I spent a few days in Denmark this week, followed by house-sitting, and… the boat did not progress far.

On one exciting hand I discovered a leak in the kitchen windows; it’s not bad, and hopefully re-sealing a little section will do it, but I’ll need to swing the boat around for that.

And on the other hand I started dismantling the stove:

But even that didn’t get far; the bolts are rusted and seized inside, so I’ll probably shear them and deal with the damage later. When it’s in pieces I can de-rust, re-paint and re-assemble.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

It didn’t feel like a wildly productive week, but it still felt good, and I finally made the boat watertight (mostly (portholes still in progress)) by sealing up the 4 windows on the starboard side, along with lining the windows that open with thicker rubber:

As best I can tell, water now stays outside (it’s been raining hard!), and it’s the first time I can say that in 3 years… gosh I was lazy. But it feels GREAT. And then I put “seasonal double glazing” — a polyolefin film you stick around windows and tighten with a hair dryer — over the 9 single-glazed ones, and I could swear it’s made a difference. I bet you can’t tell it’s on there:

I also spent a day moving the boat and servicing it (diesel, gas, water, some new batteries!), and have found an absolutely delightful spot:

This morning the sun streamed in (I didn’t even need the heater), and this evening I washed up by moon- and candlelight overlooking the water:

In other minor upgrades, I installed intake ducting for the diesel heater so it takes air from the cabin, creating a delightfully virtuous cycle, and acquired a guitar to stoke my inner John Denver.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

I’m not one of those who can easily hide, but that’s alright. Last Sunday was 2° overnight, and this was a monumental week in realising my cosy winter dream: I installed the diesel heater, and it is absurd.

At first I was slightly nervous it wouldn’t fit (‘tis a big boy — 8kw of power!), but it does, just. Snugly. On Wednesday I mounted it to the top of the engine bay on the port side, and then realised the exhaust skin fitting was too long…

Luckily a friend offered to ensmallen it, after which I wedged the exhaust in place and wired everything else up. In many ways this was more awkward than re-assembling the engine, but with some bloody scrapes and “fuck you”s at the hard-to-reach nuts, it was time:

And holy shit.

Euphoric is an understatement; on full power it rockets the boat to 30° in minutes (ambient temperature dependent), and I’ve yet to optimise it. For one it’s pulling air from the engine bay (not ideal) and I’m waiting for an adapter to run a vent around to the starboard side so it’ll begin from the warmer cabin air. Then the big holes into the engine bay along the side which I’ll insulate, and just as much for the noise as anything else (turned up it sounds like a jet engine).

And to improve how it heats the boat, I’ll run some rectangular ducting along the port side to carry the heat forward, as currently it comes straight into the kitchen, turning tea time into a sauna sesh. At some point I may also stick a dehumidifier in the mix for the ultimate in boat climate control, and upgrade the electronics for controlling it with an app from afar.

In other news, I got more plants:

And I am currently sat in bed under the fairy lights, wearing shorts and incredibly hungover, waiting for the kettle to boil for some tea. It’s a good day.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Hello, hello, HELLO! Happy Sunday, and a cold one it is. This week I was away until Thursday, and Friday was all-out pottery, building the skills to fill my future kitchen with crockery. But the days and evenings did not go wasted, and oh buoy.

I left the boat in a hurry last weekend, so job one was cleaning the insulation off the floor. With that done I could lay some leftover vinyl from a friend’s work, creating an entire shoe-free zone for my room with so much space for activities. That I extended to the end of the boat with a walkway for a bare-foot track, meaning I don’t need shoes to make coffee in the morning, and I can careen into bed:

Speaking of, on Saturday I dumped a vanload of rubbish and picked up the king size mattress from my tent last year, a HUGE upgrade:

Oh, and the fairy lights:

It’s dark outside in that photo, and three sets of fairy lights have made this an unbearably cute building site. But that’s not all; today I picked up two hardy plants as well:

The hanging one is a fast-growing ivy that I’ll dangle from the ceiling supports to liven up the place. Besides, are you truly self-sufficient if you’re not generating your own oxygen?

Another thing you may have noticed in the above photos… there’s a sink. A SINK! I picked that up on Thursday evening along with my yet-to-be-installed diesel heater, and connected that to the drain today:

The utter joy of no longer needing to brush my teeth in the rain… It leaked at first, but when I re-tightened it with the PTFE tape I’d forgetten the water followed its destiny, and gravity does the work unlike the pump of the old one you had to switch on.

With those few changes this place has become incredibly cosy, at least in photos. There’s just one thing missing: warmth. I am one cold boy, and that is next week’s challenge: install the diesel heater in the engine bay.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

This week was textbook Parkinson’s law: work expands to fill the time available for its completion. I didn’t give myself enough to do.

On Monday I drilled the shoot bolt hole for the door in the newly-welded hatch and started painting it, along with the chimney collar. This continued all week until I installed it on Friday, a huge milestone in winter cosiness!

(The red is just primer, a temporary measure… he says.)

On Tuesday evening I installed battens in the doors and ordered an 8kw diesel heater… to say I’m excited is an understatement, this boat is gonna be so incredibly hyggelig, and with a freestanding sink on the way I’ll finally have some drainage and a place to run water as well. Temporary of course, but a big quality-of-life upgrade.

I also picked up new panes of glass for the portholes, ones I’d ordered last week with measurements I made 6 months ago. Not ready to install, but I decided to try them for size when I got back, and… they didn’t fit. None of them fit; they were all a few millimetres too big. But it gave me a good laugh, and taught me a valuable lesson: don’t trust past Nick, he’s an idiot. A lovable idiot that I care for deeply, but an idiot.

Friday evening I battened the hatch and the front of the water tank, finished masking up battens and vents and then, Saturday, another big day. With a train to catch in the afternoon, this was likely my last chance of the year with excellent weather to insulate, and I couldn’t miss it. But first, coffee:

After that it was a rush to remove the doors, cover everything else with plastic sheets and heat the foam tanks before the final mess. It was electric, and an hour later I was done. I HAVE AN INSULATED BOAT!

And after putting the hatch and doors back, I properly secured the boat for the first time, and my 3-point lock worked a charm:

(I once more took the handle with me as it needs a little adjusting and the screws were loose.)

Now the hatch still jiggles and I have yet to decide how the runners will work, but it is insulated and the rest can wait. And with the diesel heater en route, a sink, and fairy lights to install… oh BUOY.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Omg, happy October!

The week started frantically, as Monday was perfect for insulating and I had so much to do: buy a gas mask and some overalls, move a bunch of my shite out of the way, clean all the surfaces and masking tape everything I didn’t want foam on. And I mean everything: I learned this the first time round, that any exposed surface will absolutely, positively become insulated, even just a little bit. This included my phone screen, which I had left outside, upon which I could feel a smattering of tiny particles later.

By ~14:45 we were a GO, and I made a little time lapse of the first coating (excuse the flapping plastic):

Unfortunately the 2 panels at the back didn’t set correctly (to the left and right of the camera where you can’t see), and I then spent the next hour cleaning what felt like syrup and dough off the walls before trying again. By 17:30 I was done with the lot, and couldn’t wait to remove my sweat suit. I had half an insulated boat!

On Tuesday I did some work, and I returned to… the generator by the side of the canal. Where the fuck was the boat?! Looking up and down the canal I couldn’t see it, and I was getting stressed. I figured nobody stole it, because why wouldn’t you take the generator? For some reason “right” felt correct, so off I ran back up the canal, and 200m later there it was, neatly moored up alongside (I didn’t think to take photos).

Luckily I had a working engine to take it back (😁), and the following morning I found out what happened when a woman and her dog stopped by to tell all. My piss-poor mooring (my words, not hers) set the boat adrift, around a corner and under a bridge, before settling on the other side of the canal. Anthea was her name, living on a boat just up the canal, and she asked a passing boat to hand her the mooring lines before tying it up herself. I was incredibly grateful, and inspired by her mooring lines.

I also re-torqued the engine cylinder head that day, along with checking the rocker valve clearances again. It’s just… so good, and runs wonderfully without any smoke or steam. AHHH *chef’s kiss*. 🤌

Thursday my new coffee grinder arrived, and with some freshly-roasted beans my caffeine game has reached new heights. I may not have walls, or running water, or plug sockets, but I have good coffee. And then more battening — the final ones! — with some prep before more insulating on Friday:

It was once more a colossal mess, but it’s not over yet: I still have the hatch, doors, portholes, and chimney area to do, and 3 of the wall panels didn’t set correctly again; they turned into a syrupy sludge, and I’ll do those with the rest of it next time. And the tanks are still half full, so I’ll also go over other parts of the boat and make it absurdly insulated. Like, ridiculous levels, question-the-second-law-of-thermodynamics levels.

Over the weekend I cleaned up the old chimney collar and started painting it, along with some additional welding to the hatch for the door lock and some “wings” to keep it down:

A few tasks to do next week before insulating is over, and then… new adventures await!

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

What a week. Do I say that every week?

Monday! WELL, I got most of that water pump bolt out. I also damaged the old thread… alas. I ordered a thread repair kit then headed to Wickes for a sheet of aluminium for the vents, and a PVC pipe for the water tank inlet.

The kit arrived on Tuesday and, slight tangent, but it included an advert for a model engineering exhibition in Leamington Spa. Now the company, Tracy Tools, is based in Torquay, about two hundred miles away! They didn’t have to do that, but somebody saw the address and thought “You know, this fella might be interested in model engineering” and guess what? I might just go. God I love personalised advertising. (It could all be coincidence, or it’s automated, or they put the same one in every package, but I choose to believe.)

That evening I got to work fixing the thread: drilling a slightly larger hole in the engine block, threading that and then inserting the repair thread (a “Heli-Coil”)… fingers crossed. The day before I also increased the size of the holes in the water pump itself, as they didn’t quite line up with the ones in the engine block. I’d gone to the chandlery asking why, why is the water pump you sold me a misfit?!, and I got a history lesson: when BMC was sold (to a company in Turkey I think? Then India…), it did not include the castings. So they had to make new ones for the engine parts, and said new ones do not quite match the old, as in my case.

Anyway, larger holes, thread re-tapped… it was time to install this darned pump. I jimmied up the bolts with copper grease, got it all in place and starting torquing them, correctly this time. Well, almost: the manual said 24Nm, the lowest setting on the torque wrench was 28. The other 3 clicked fine, but I couldn’t quite get this repaired thread there; it kept slipping at what I guess was about 20Nm. Still, it felt tight, and the others were slightly over spec. Cautiously optimistic, I celebrated. THE WATER PUMP WAS BACK ON. Given that I’ve never seen this thread, or the mess I made, or the repair I’ve attempted, this was a biblical win.

I could now assemble the rest of the engine, but it was getting dark so I settled for some electroplating instead. Part of the shoot bolts I made for the door were regular ol’ mild steel, and although they wouldn’t see much weather, paint would scuff and I wanted something to protect them from rust: a coat of zinc. I bought some zinc sheets and sulphate powder online, and with a little battery set up a science project:

90g of the powder dissolved in 300g of water, 3 AA batteries in series with the positive terminal connected to a sheet of zinc in the water, the negative attached to the bolt for galvanising, and a minute or so later and it was done! I was expecting bubbles, but that could be to do with the low current or my bodge of a clean (you’re “supposed” to use an acid). Unfortunately I forgot to take a photo of the finished product, and it’s now hidden it the door, but you may take my word that the steel looked different, and it certainly tasted of zinc.

On Wednesday I cut the latch and bolt holes in the other door, and locked the door for the first time since June! But… I drilled some holes slightly too small, so had to take the handle with me:

The next few days were engine assembly; I was nervously hyped. It was one of the harder Mechano sets I’ve played with, as whoever took it apart didn’t quite label all the nuts and bolts and where they belonged. But with some deduction and guesswork the pieces did come together, and it was so satisfying to clear the boat floor of parts. It was looking like an engine again:

First thing on Friday was to torque the cylinder head: 14 nuts needed 102Nm, and done in a specific order (roughly from the centre outwards.) Now 3 of the nuts were inaccessible with the wrench, sat under the rocker (you can just about see them above!), and there is a special tool you can get but I wasn’t going to wait, so those underwent a “vibes-based” process, and let me tell you: the vibes were good.

Saturday was le big day. First thing: tappets, or the rocker valve clearances, set to 14 thousandths of an inch. I went to pick up some feeler gauges to check those, after which I put the alternator belt back on and topped up the oil. It was time. I heated the glow plugs for about 20 seconds and cranked the engine, and it spluttered to life with a puff of white smoke! For all of 5 seconds…

It then wheezed and wouldn’t start, but with a little guidance I was prompted to check the fuel, which I had indeed not bled correctly… simple, really: no diesel, no power.

Some pumping later to bleed the fuel regulator and each injector, and after doing the 3rd one it came to life! It wouldn’t idle though, so I lightly held the throttle for 5 minutes after which it started to smooth out. 20 minutes later it was still going, and starting to sound wonderful. I couldn’t quite believe it, a mix of joy and euphoria and hysterical disbelief, it worked:

LOOK AT IT!

I turned it off and let it rest for an hour while I went to B&Q to pick up wood for the rest of the battens, and back at the boat it started right away. A few minutes of idling and off I went, a whole 200m to where I could moor the boat next to the van for errands: trash was piling up, and I was out of water. It felt good to move again:

It’s not quite over yet, though: in the next few days I’ll run it again and re-torque the cylinder head nuts, along with re-checking the valve clearances.

But I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop: good weather was looming, and days to insulate were running out. Sunday — today! — has been all-out battening, and with help from some Danish dynamite half of the boat is ready for foam (photo taken before finishing):

It’s coming together.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Well, the weeks where days happen. That bolt thread is still stuck, but I did make some progress today, which you can read about later. I also discovered “thread repair kits” on a recommendation, which are threads inside threads. You drill a larger thread and “shrink” it, in a sense. There is hope!

Oh and remember the fancy drill bit I bought? That lasted for all of 5 seconds before I snapped it, and the original 4mm of thread sticking out was quickly whittling down to 2mm, then 0.2mm. Literally reaching the end of the thread; that Tuesday evening I measured the boat for battens before helping a friend install some shelves. A small win, at least. Spread the joy.

Luckily part of me was still functioning, as on Wednesday I woke up from a dream about how to drill a pilot hole with nothing to guide a drill, and it seemed so obvious: bolt on the old water pump to guide it. But this was a day for different tasks, and with access to a garage and a welder I got to installing the multipoint lock in the door:

And an amazing day it was! It works incredibly well:

What a high.

I’m now waiting for the final coat of paint to dry before I can install it, and then I need to cut the bolt and latch holes in the other door as well. So close.

On Thursday I managed to drill a little hole in the thread, thanks to my dreaming self, and like an idiot tried another bolt extractor. It snapped. This time I laughed however, and nobody called me a fucktard. The problem with these bolt extractors is how hard they are; harder than any drill bits I have, even cobalt or carbide ones. I finally searched YouTube for my predicament, and found a guy who’d been in a very similar situation. After much more experimenting, there was only one thing he recommended: carbide burrs to grind it out.

On Sunday they arrived, and right away I could see them working. PROGRESS, finally. With the stuck bolt extractor disintegrated I could drill once more, which went rather smoothly, at an angle. Yes, the hole was not straight, and I’m fairly sure some of the engine block has come with it. Tomorrow starts the delicate task of grinding the rest out; slowly, patiently.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Oh buoy…

This week was off to the races with preparing the front window: a final coat of primer for the outside, then the 3 coats of varnish on the interior-facing wood. And with that done, it was engine component collection time! The engine/cylinder head, the injectors; back in business:

Lord only knows why I didn’t take them out of the bag for the big photoshoot.

With some jiggery pokery I finally got the water pump off that I had struggled with, and went to the chandlery for a replacement. I got back to the boat, and compared the old with the new… they were different. Confused, I went back to the chandlery asking what’s up; why was the casing different? Turns out, I had the wrong engine. All along I’ve had the wrong damn engine. It’s a 1.8 litre BMC, not 1.5. FOR ALL THESE YEARS I’VE ASSUMED 300 LESS CUBIC CENTIMETRES OF CYLINDER VOLUME?! This also meant a different head gasket, which I’d get the next day. Unbelievable, yet kinda exciting: THE POWER. Obviously the boat will move no faster, but imagine believing you’re 3 inches shorter than you actually are. Katona just got a confidence boost.

Wednesday started wonderfully with fixing the oil sump pump (the pieces weren’t even screwed together inside…), and then I called Bob Beck’s (the injector service place) just to make sure everything was fine, given I’d told them it was a different engine. Alas. The nozzles were indeed different between 1.5 and 1.8s, so I ventured back over to hand them in for a swap. Back at the boat I installed the glass pane in the front window:

With that done and the sealant setting, I turned my focus back to the engine, getting it ready for the big assemble. Exciting. First off, mopping up the mess. The drip tray beneath the engine was 3 inches deep with black, oily sludge, and I remembered something my sister taught me about cleaning engine bays: nappies. Disposable nappies. A full bin liner later I could see the bottom, and then onto the old oil, which went rather smoothly with the working pump.

And finally… engines, assemble! Starting with the water pump, I cleaned the bolts, de-greased the area and tried it for size. It didn’t fit. Confuzzled once more, I looked at the old one and could see part of the edge had been ground away. Well, guess I’d do the same, and 10 minutes later with the angle grinder it was snug.

With the pump in place, I started tightening the nuts with a torque wrench, only it never clicked… and yet I kept going. That was my first mistake, and finally I fell forward as something gave way: I had sheared off one of the bolt heads, and one of the awkward, hard-to-reach ones, too… I don’t often get mad, but this was it: royally pissed. “Nick you absolute FUCKTARD” I heard someone say (weird, given I was alone).

The saving grace was about 4mm of thread sticking out, which I could try to shimmy with some WD-40 and mole grips. Grace was not saved; it was wedged.

The next 2 days were fruitless in removing the thread — I couldn’t get a drill around there, and trying to file a pilot hole for bolt extractors didn’t work — but I did install the front window:

A win!

Saturday was attempt #4 after picking up an angle chuck extension to drill in tight spaces, and it started so well. After drilling deep enough, I managed to grip the bolt extractor for about 10 seconds until I snapped it (like a moron (mistake number two)). Since then I’ve tried drilling it out many a time, but the drill bits have been too soft. Hardened steel, titanium… nada; I don’t know what this bolt extractor was made of but damn, so I am now waiting for the delivery of a fancy solid steel carbide drill bit before trying again. And that’s where we stand, a stuck bolt thread with part of a bolt extractor down the middle:

At this point you do just have to laugh, it’s ridiculous. I’ll get there, but this week felt like a plateau with negative engine progress. On the plus side, on Sunday (today!) I did seal the front window edges with silicone and froth some milk with the generator:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

“I can hear it still needs a service.” — me being prophetic, August 27th, 2023.

Oh you didn’t think we were finished with part 1, did you? Well I did. On Monday morning it sure looked fine, but I started moving the boat and half a mile later badoom it went once more. But this time it was a seal at the other end of the coolant reservoir:

Still… the same issue, one big HMMM. An hour later after a trip to the chandlery and replacing it, I started the engine with a keen eye. So far so good, but I wasn’t convinced yet.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later and a little heat, wisps of smoke began floating from somewhere. I couldn’t tell from whence they came, but I checked the oil and the coolant reservoir again. The oil looked fine — black and shiny — but the coolant was bubbling… ruh roh. That mostly sealed the deal; it was probably the head gasket, which meant taking the engine apart. My first thought was to find an engineer, so I called James for a recommendation (remember the gentleman that helped with the welding?), but his vote of confidence spurred me to have a go myself: “Oh it’s totally DIY-able, you just twizzle the fluxtromater, remove the turbo encabulator and scrazzle the marzlevane.”*

“Of course, Nicholas, you are the engineer!” I could hear my angels sing.

It started fine, but I needed a tooling upgrade, and with a new socket set from Screwfix we were back in business. Honestly? This was a bitch, but by jove was it fun and funny. 5 hours later and there it was, in all its greasy, gunged up glory:

When I finally got the gasket off it wasn’t an obvious explosion, but there was some carbonation on the engine head between a cylinder and a water channel which could very well explain these mis-happenings; the tolerances are tiny, so it doesn’t take much.

This was all new territory for me, and even just dismantling it taught me a lot. I’m excited to put it back together, and it’s only Monday. On the plus side, the internet was slightly better than my previous spot, and also how lucky am I for this to happen in August?! Imagine how shitty this would be in December.

On Tuesday I spent a couple of hours trying to remove the engine water pump, but… there was this one nut, behind the pulley, playing hard to get. So much so, I didn’t even get it. I borrowed a pulley removal device thingy, but unfortunately that was too big to fit, and as of writing it’s still in place (other jobs to do!).

I took the engine injectors to Bob Beck’s in Leamington for a service, followed by the engine head to Ward’s in Rugby, a machine shop for refacing it. They did a leak test as well, which luckily went fine, otherwise it would’ve been a couple of weeks for them to do a full service, removing and cleaning the valves, etc. I wasn’t around to pick it up this week, but will do that tomorrow (Monday)!

And on Thursday, finally, my 10 tubes of sealant arrived! I couldn’t wait to install the windows and seal the rest… on Friday. Rain was on-and-off all day, so I went on a goose chase for a multipoint lock.

Although less of a chase, more of a mission to a locksmith near Bournville. I walked in and told the guy my dilemma: “I’m renovating a boat, and want to install a multipoint lock on the door… I don’t know what I’m looking for, can you help?”

He proceeded to laugh; one doesn’t simply install a multipoint lock on a door that isn’t designed for it. After serving some other customers and a long back-and-forth, he gave in to my vision…

Him: “It’s too long”
Me: “Can’t I just cut it? I could also weld a new bit on.”
“Err, no.”
“Why not?”
“Well… you need these things,” pointing at some teeth on the protruding bar.
“Why? I could make my own.”

He was incredibly good-humoured, and amused by my determination. The alternative would be a couple of latches — the norm for securing boat doors — but that’s far too many steps compared to simply lifting a handle.

Him: “You know, you’re gonna start on this and then regret doing it” he said with a smile.
Me: “I know, and it’s gonna be great.”

I now have all the pieces to build me the door lock of my dreams, and it’s going to be bloody fantastic. This boat will ironically go from open wind tunnel that welcomes all to one of the best-locked vessels in the kingdom. I might even install a cannon and take it to France.

Friday, with newly-replenished sealant, I installed 2 more of the kitchen windows, and the final one on Saturday morning:

Followed by sealing the other 3 windows on the port side:

And would you believe it, this side of the boat is now watertight! I also installed the final 2 vents on the roof, and shaped the bottom of the front window before giving it 2 coats of primer for the outside:

I’ll varnish the interior-facing wood next week, install the window pane and then fix it to the boat. It’ll then need some shaping to fit the hull’s contours, followed by some extra primer.

This is turning out to be a great week, even after the poor engine had a bad day, and I’m excited to clean it all up next week.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

P.S. You can now subscribe to receive new posts via email! There’s a form just below.

*Not actually James’ words.

This week started wonderfully with the final coat of primer on the hatch and doors:

Followed by moving the boat a little ways down the canal with my newly-cooled engine. I did check the oil when I fixed it, but I can hear it still needs a service. And then it began, that daunting task: le kitchen windows.

I started by putting them all in the frames for sizing, and to position them properly. I bought some plastic glazing packers for aligning them, first with each other, and then to make them flush with the outside of the boat. With that done, I got to work masking up the first window:

Followed by nearly 2 tubes of sealant(!). And then… it ran out. AGAIN. Amateur-hour over here, how did I not plan for this?! Such is that incompetence, I went to the local chandlery to see if they had any (alas, no), and headed to the pub for some internet to order 10 more tubes. As of publishing, they have yet to arrive, so I’ll get on with the rest next week.

Tuesday evening, in a last minute dash of not doing boat work that day, I removed the bathroom window, cleaned up the area and did the first coat of primer. I have no photos of this, but you can see the finished product later on!

Wednesday was George’s (the van) service & MOT, which… needed an extra day, so I made the pilgrimage back along the canal to do some painting; the first white overcoat on all the welded areas, along with the doors and hatch:

Speaking of the doors, on Tuesday I had a brainwave: the tubes around the door look ideal for one of those locks that attach to multiple points on the door; one rod extending upwards to the hatch, the other to the base plate below. What on earth are they called? This is where ChatGPT is really handy: multipoint locks. But even just searching for that is overwhelming, WTF are all these terms: backset, spindle, PZ, IPD, deadbolt throw, automatic vs manual. Hrm, I need to visit a shop. And you know what would’ve made this easier? Not throwing the old lock out. Eurgh.

Anyway, I installed the hatch and doors after their final coat of paint was dry:

How satisfying! Except the hatch needs some adjusting; I put some rubber on the edges that slide better, but they’re still too low…

Friday? More painting, and a trip to B&Q for some wood! Because Saturday is wooden batten day:

This is maybe ~70% of it done before insulating, which feels great. The last parts are the stern, the stern ceiling and above/below the lounge windows… still not sure how I want to do those “windowsills,” but I’ll sleep on it. Without my bathroom window the water was just pouring in, so that evening I had a last-minute rush to install it after 2 white overcoats that day:

As mentioned the hatch needed adjusting, so this here Sunday I took it back off and drove to mum’s for the big welder:

After I’m done with programming, I may become a welder; it’s just so much fun.

I added 4 little extensions for it to slide on, and I’m excited to see how it fares (may need some adjusting, as of writing I have not put it back on).

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

A lovely week of odd jobs; nothing major, but fulfilling progress in the right direction. It started with a gas and diesel refill, and then I got to work painting the newly-welded sections.

I also finished putting silicone in the kitchen window frames; I had done one of them the week before, but soon realised the deep channels were gobbling up Marineflex faster than I could conjure new tubes. But fear not! 10 FedEx’d tubes later and we were back in business:

The kitchen window frames are ready with the windows now waiting for installation, which I shall tackle next week. I also made the pilgrimage to pick up the insulation; 2 kits ready to go, as soon as the rest of the boat is prepared. We’re getting close!

Another thing I started on was properly sealing the lounge windows, first by trimming off the excess mastic tape around the edge, and then squidging a line of silicone around:

Incredibly satisfying work; I did two of them, and some rainfall proved my handywork successful. Finally, I removed all the rust on the hatch and doors and started painting those, finishing my 3rd coat this morning:

And on Saturday, what excitement! Just as the boat reached the top of a flight of 8 locks, BANG goes the engine, followed by steam. 30 minutes or so later after parking the boat and some troubleshooting, it was clear what happened: the end seal on the coolant reservoir had exploded, presumably because said reservoir was empty (or close to):

Luckily a nearby chandlery had the parts I needed, and the fix was straightforward: put a new seal back on with a jubilee clip, flush the reservoir and refill the engine coolant. I don’t think any other seals or gaskets broke (fingers crossed 🤞); I was quick to shut off the engine when it happened.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Yesterday was one of those days where weeks happen, thanks to a wonderful man named James. But first, the week started by finishing the primer on the kitchen window frames, cutting 3 steel disks for the holes in the roof and side, and removing the hatch and doors:

It certainly opens the boat a little more, and on Wednesday I picked up the 2 new kitchen windows:

By Thursday it was time to move, and I set sail in search of some power to weld. After going through two locks with a family and receiving class B drugs as thanks, I reached Stockton that afternoon and asked around for a plug socket. I soon met James, the owner of Stockton Dry Dock, and we started talking boats; he was curious about this project, and couldn’t help but laugh when I showed him. We joked about the missing windows and doors, the rusty roof, the illegal gas bottle sat next to my fridge, but I felt a kindred spirit with this ex-programmer. He asked if I was around on the weekend, and said he’d like to help with removing those holes in the roof.

Come Saturday afternoon we’re moving the boat into the mouth of the dock and it’s all kicking off, starting with the chimney section after cleaning the area and cutting a new plate:

There were 14 bits to weld, and I did a little, but it’s James I have to thank for doing a wonderful job on the rest, including 3 big holes in the roof and side where vents used to be:

And the welding did look cool from inside (remember not to stare directly at the arc):

It’s weird to describe how happy it makes me to look at a piece of steel where sunlight used to shine through. By JOVE is it wonderful; a huge milestone on Project Watertight, and the rest feels like a cakewalk in comparison. There’s also Project Antirust, which shall resume after the rainfall tonight…

And by reader request, here’s a photo of my kitchen with a salmon salad underway, my evening staple:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Short but sweet, this week I returned on Wednesday after a 17-hour road trip, so I wrote off doing anything productive 😴. But work resumed the next day! And this here stern is PAINTED (minus the bits-to-be-welded):

Look at it! It’s beautiful! And the view backwards from my boudoir:

I also cleaned up the gunge from the kitchen window frames and did a few coats of primer on those, along with one of the vents on the roof. The 2 new windows are being made as I write, and hopefully I can pick them up next week for installation. Slowly but surely, this place is becoming watertight.

Apart from that, it’s time to start welding prep — a few steel disks to cut and clean, then a marina to find for some high amperage. Oh, and the hatch and doors! I need to clean and prep those before I can insulate, so given a minute I’ll start on those next week as well.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

What a week! It started strong with 8 hours on the angle grinder — sans injury — de-rusting section 4; the stern, the finale, my magnum grinder opus:

And with that done, the boat is officially no longer a rusty shell!

As Sean Parker would say…

Following that I washed it all down and hoovered up the rusty dust, ready for painting over the next few days. On Friday I finished the 4th and final coat of primer, and buoy does it look wonderful:

The unpainted parts are where I need to weld — and there are many of them — but I need mains power to get on with that, which I shall find at a marina in the next week or two.

And remember that window I broke last week?! Well I ordered 2 replacements; one of the others was slightly the wrong size, so when in Rome, etc. On Friday I left the boat for a few days, and will return next week to do the final 2 coats on the stern section and start on the final preparations for insulating!

Until next Sunday,

- Nick

People on the canal are so nice! On Friday a Dutch family helped me through some locks, and today I had 4 lovely conversations with boaters and walkers, curious about what I was doing and offering their encouragement. One guy talked about his motorbike from Myanmar in the second world war that he restored; another looked at my glucose monitor and asked if I was diabetic…

Me: “Not diabetic, just curious! I like to see how foods affect me.”
Him: “Ahh I wish I could be curious, unfortunately I am diabetic…”

😳

This week was really wonderful, and I finished installing the 8 saloon windows:

I’ll miss having those vast holes in the hull, there was something freeing about them, but it’s a real delight to simply close them when it starts raining as it did on Friday. And only 6 of them leak! That’s 25% of the windows that arewatertight — double-digit percentages, which is phenomenal week-on-week growth if you ask me. I’ve ordered some bigger seals for the 4 that open, and I may need some more Sikaflex for the others as well.

With that done on Friday I could focus on the stern, starting with the rest of the wires, and one thing I did break was the bilge bump… at some point I’ll have to dedicate a minute to fixing that: sometimes I forget to re-grease the propeller shaft, and then I’ll hear the “drip, drip” as the engine bay starts filling up. Now it’s a long way from drowing the engine or sinking the boat, but… you know.

I also performed some boat surgery, removing 2 side panels and another one at the stern:

I didn’t cover anything while cutting these out — “It’s only a bit of cutting, what’s the point?” — which I normally do when grinding the rust away with a wire brush. Buoy was that a mistake. I looked up for a second and there it was, the huge dust cloud, and the sweet taste of steel with my dinner.

And were they structural? Let’s hope not; the bottoms were rusted out anyway, and fingers crossed it’s not some Chesterton’s Fence. The port-side panel used to support the boiler, but I’ll move that to the very back as I’d like 1 continuous kitchen countertop. Moving that and the cooker means I have 2 extra holes in the roof to weld shut, and extra holes to cut at some future point.

Next up, removing the big kitchen windows — 2 hours tops, surely, and then I can grind away the rest of the rust. 5 hours later, exhausted, they were gone:

Removing the first 3 went fine, but I put some pressure on the wrong part of the last one, and, well…

Oops.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Rust is falling, all around me, moving kitchens, having fun. 🎵

This week I installed the first window! It went, well… I needed some rain to test it, and 2 hours later the gods delivered. The rain was heavy, the moment of truth, aaand… drip. Drip. DRIP. Fuck. Still, better than a bin big, and a world of improvement on the gaping holes in the side I’ve been living with. And soon after fixing it in place I realised the rivets were wrong; these were pop rivets, and mostly too short.

Still, it looks good! Well chuffed. I’ll try a line of Sikaflex along the top to see how that fares, otherwise I can always re-install. And with 1,500 new rivets on route, sealed and countersunk with 3 different lengths, I’m set for the rest.

I then finished tearing the rest of the stern apart, removing the electronics and final bits of plumbing, including the calorifier — a water tank that heats water either via the engine or an electric immersion heater (the green thing below).

Did you know that the engine runs coolant pipes through the calorifier to heat water? I learned that when I took it apart, and blue engine coolant came gushing out. Hmph.

As mentioned last week, the French called on Thursday for help with their revolution, eating cheese and sleeping under the milky way at 2,400m in the alps, so that was it for this week. But I returned to a letter on the door…

Ominous. Luckily it was only a friendly reminder to get my boat license — which I have! — but the Canal & River Trust couldn’t verify as I forgot to replace the boat number sticker after taking the windows out.

And to finish, here are some photos of the boat, as per reader request, sat somewhere on the Grand Union canal:

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

You get many wonderful neighbours on the canals, and some of my favourites are the ducks and swans. Not only are they funny and sometimes majestic and very edible, they also keep my boat clean. Algae grows on the hull at the waterline, and you’ll occasionally hear the rattle of a duck’s beak as it works its way along, chomping away. It’s a lovely sound that fills the boat as it slightly vibrates.

This week I started by finishing the overcoats in section 3:

And looking backwards:

Ahh! It’s glorious! That’s 79% of the internal hull prepped, and I’ll get started on the final section next week.

After that I was ill and looking after some animals for the weekend, so a light week. But I did get the new glass pane and learn a few things about re-installing windows. Firstly that completely dismantling the forward 4 was unecessary — most of the glass pane seals were fine, they just needed cleaning — and secondly that “sealant tape” exists. Basically fancy double-sided tape designed for windows, saving on a sikaflex mess. It’ll also make removing the windows easier next year when I upgrade them to double-glazed.

I’ll be away from Thursday to help the French celebrate their revolution, but that’s time enough to make good progress on the final frontier, starting with a trip to the Chandlery for a roll of that tape.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick

Happy July!

This week was glorious, starting on Monday with a leisurely refurbishment of some windows and a trip to the chandlery, only to find they didn’t have the window gaskets I needed. But I did get another spaceship vent — sometimes called a pancake — and another mooring pin.

And then last night (Saturday), I was making dinner when I heard a Ceilidh band. I decided to follow the music after scrubbing up: across the canal, through some fields, past some chickens and an orchard, and I stumbled upon a community farm having their annual summer party. Without hesitation I danced and drank with the locals until midnight, it was so wonderful. One person said “You don’t look like the type of guy who lives on the canal,” which I could only take as a compliment.

Back onboard, I got the final overcoat on section 2 done:

And then straight onto section 3, starting with shuffling everything backwards and removing the final 2 saloon windows.

I could then remove the loose rust, pre-drill the baton holes and get out the ‘ol angle grinder. Occasionly it “kicks back” if you accidentally touch the spinny thing with something else, and this one time I dropped it, taking some of me with it:

My first (minor) flesh wound! Exciting. It was about time — I’ve already electrocuted myself twice. A day was all it took to clean up the area, and just this morning I finished the final undercoat:

2 overcoats next week and I’ll have prepped 14.5 metres of the boat, with only 4 to go (or 21.6%). And that last bit is the easiest, too, with 4 big windows on one side and fewer ceiling supports to paint around. Although I’m not looking forward to re-installing those big windows…

Until next week!

- Nick

Hello and happy Sunday!

The last 3 days I was AFK, or “Away From Katona,” visiting Denmark to celebrate St John’s Day with my family. That normally means a bonfire on the beach, but with the lack of rain the Danes decided to ban any and all fires. So:

But that did not stop the boat from sailing. On Monday I cleaned 2 of the 8 saloon windows, re-ordered another pane for the one that I broke, and put the final coat of primer on the forward saloon section:

That Wednesday I removed two more windows in the next rusty section before spinning the boat around, as they’re much easier to take out when they’re towpath-facing. Then the first coat of white paint, followed by a second ceiling coat on Sunday just before writing this. Unfortunately the tin was empty before I could do the rest, and you can tell the difference with the patchiness:

It says leave “48-72 hours” before coating the red primer with a solvent-based paint; colour me naughty I only gave it 48, but I could feel it wanted another day. Next time!

This is only the metal interior so the white isn’t strictly necessary, as there’s insulation and wooden panelling to come. But it looks wonderful, and I’ll still see it, like the back of a cabinet you know was done well. That’ll feel good, and I’m also living with this for the next few weeks before I can insulate, and it makes the place a lot lighter!

Until next week!

- Nick

The downside of living under trees is that it rains for hours after it officially stops. This week there were thunderstorms (there’s even one as I’m writing this), and although slightly inconvenient as I have to cover the now-windowless holes in the side, they’re useful for a shower to save some water.

On Monday after removing the other 3 windows and pre-drilling holes for the support batons, I got to work grinding away the rust in section 2, the front part of the lounge/saloon. It is dirty work…

It went well for 2 hours until the angle grinder stopped… again. And this was the new one, not even 24 hours old. WTF. I tried cleaning it inside and checking the connections, but still nothing. Makita be damned, I got me an equivalent one from DeWalt at Toolstation, which I sure hope DeWon’t give up. It’s been wonderful so far and the switch is easier to engage, which makes a difference on your thumbs after a day.

Most of the rust didn’t survive past Monday, but a thunderstorm hit in the afternoon and I had to wait until the following evening to finish up (Tuesday is for work, I’m a software engineer):

Then, with the dust settled, I could get it ready to paint. Now my usual tactic for this is reams of blue roll and a spray bottle, meticulously wiping away all the grime and dirt. This works fine, but it’s slow. Very, very, very slow. I did this for the ceiling and part of the sides on Wednesday, and then I had an idea: I’m next to a near-limitless supply of not-too-dirty water, and I have a sponge.

An hour later with a handful of buckets, the rest of it was clean and primed to paint. It takes about 5 or 6 hours to do one coat, and this Sunday I finished up number 3 after being away on Saturday:

It felt like this would’ve taken me 4 weeks 6 months ago, but to go from rusty metal to 3 coats of paint on 1/4 of the boat in 5 days is wonderful. There’s another coat of primer I’ll do, and then 2 white overcoats for the looks (not strictly necessary as I’m insulating over them, but extra paint can’t hurt and I want that factory feeling). Oh and the windows… they need cleaning and re-installing, and I have some glass to order for the one that I broke while removing.

Until next week!

- Nick

Leaving the boat by the canal side for more than a day is often unsettling, but I’ve always been delighted to find it in the same place, with everything inside. This week I was away until Friday for reasons, but these last 2 days still proved plenty to make a delightful mess, starting with the chimney section and collar:

This is what holds the chimney in the roof, and should ideally have a watertight seal. After cleaning it on Saturday and running out of battery with this cordless angle grinder, I was already sweating and it was only 11am. A steel tube with direct sunlight is a little uncomfortable, so I decided to find some shade further down the canal, and with fewer neighbours. Just 1 problem: the engine wouldn’t start.

I checked all the obvious things: diesel, oil, air intake, but nothing. The starter whizzed away, but wouldn’t fire. A little concerned, I checked my “guide to diesel engines” and had a google, but nothing, nada. That was until I realised there’s one thing they forgot to mention: check the engine kill switch isn’t engaged. So it was, and off we went…

It was only a few hundred meters to find some tree cover by the forest, just after a winding hole, which is a place to turn boats around. This was more comical than I expected, when a bickering couple came by…

“That way! Dick head!”
“Fuck off.”
…
“Left! We’re going that way! Turn left!”
“I’m going this way.”
“Dick head.”

He reversed and came alongside, asking for my help: “Which way is, uhh, Warwick? No, Wigram?” I pointed — in opposing directions — and asked where they were going.

“How about Braunston? Rugby?”
“Both that way,” I said.
“You shouldn’t have turned around, you dick head,” I heard.

Dear reader: she was right. He sheepishly turned the boat back around, and 10 minutes later after some laughing and more arguing, they were finally heading the right way again and on their way to one of the above places. They waved and wished me well, telling me about how they spent 12 months renovating their boat. It was indeed beautiful, and I hope they’re doing well.

After setting up in the new shaded spot with the generator out, I pulled the start cord and! Nothing… again?!

Engine switch? On. Choke valve? On. Oil level? Correct. Fuel valve? Off…

I got to work cleaning up the chimney area and grinding away the old bits of metal, having a great time, until the angle grinder cut out. Now I could’ve switched to the cordless one — the batteries were now charged — but it only lasts about 5 minutes on full pelt; they’re really designed for little one-off jobs, not sitting there for a long time. Work came to a stop, and I spent the rest of the evening servicing it:

It was full of dust and the carbon brushes were knackered, but even after cleaning them I could only get it working intermittently. I’ve ordered some replacements, but ever the impatient one I couldn’t resist getting a spare grinder, and Screwfix opened at 9am.

On Sunday morning I ran some errands, picking up the new angle grinder, food shopping and acquiring a new 55 litre rolling water tank:

Water was becoming an issue; the boat’s 1,500 litre tank isn’t ready yet, and the few 5 litre bottles I have don’t last long. I use a whole one for a shower, and with washing up and drinking water they’re gone in few days.

Back to work, and after some more grinding, cutting the new plate and cleaning it up, it was ready to install. Welding is one of my favourite things; always a little scary, but there’s something incredibly powerful about joining bits of metal.

Geared up and welder on, I put the wire to the metal, pulled the trigger and… the generator spluttered, and the breaker switch tripped.

Even on the slower setting at half power, spluttering and squirming the little generator could not handle this welder. 45 amps was far beyond the 13 amps it expected, let alone 90 of the better weld setting. That was my fault, I should’ve read the generator specs, but they could at least write it in big letters on the side: “NOT FOR WELDING.”

At least it’s now ready to weld, but that great big hole in the roof shall live another day. I have some other sections to weld as well, so I can get everything ready for when I next have shore power.

Until next Sunday,

- Nick

Post 1, and week 54. This is my journey of renovating a narrowboat that I’ve had since summer 2020. Photo evidence of tearing it apart starts on the 23rd of May 2022:

Last summer and autumn I dawdled, not really sure what I was doing, and it wasn’t until September I decided to commit. By then it was getting cold, and it was slow progress over winter getting the front section ready to live on, which I now do as of a month ago:

“Camping on a boat” is apt. But unlike camping, I have all the property rights to build a home.

This is what it used to look like:

And after painting, before insulating:

(I promise the red is paint; I forgot to pre-drill holes for those wooden batons and in doing so damaged that nice white coat, requiring a touch-up.)

Since moving aboard I’ve left the marina in Warwickshire and am renovating en route southwards. There’s much to do — it’s still mostly a rusty shell! — and this is where I’ll document it.

The boat has 5 inside areas which I’ve mentally split into 4 sections, working backwards: my room and bathroom that I’ve painted and insulated and made cosy; lounge section 1 which I’m working on now; lounge section 2; and the kitchen/garage* area. The lounge sections each have 4 windows, and the kitchen has 4 mahoosive windows on the port side (they’re stunning, but need re-installing). A diagram:

*By “garage” I mean the rear interior, somewhat of a porch; a place for tools, plants, shoes, coats, a bike.

For water I have bottles and they’re a cold joy to shower under on the towpath, as long as nobody is around. For electricity I have the old solar panel and boat batteries, along with a portable camping battery and panel. They keep my devices going and charge some Makita batteries that I use for a drill and angle grinder.

Work tools really are just devices for spinning exotic things around. Drills, saws, sanders, angle grinders… shape rotators.

That’s where I’ve got to, and now for update number 1:

This has been a slow week (and month), but on Thursday I finally removed one of the lounge windows! And dismantled it! That’s been such an aversive task, but getting the first one done sparked some confidence and I’m excited to do the rest. Worried for a moment they weren’t refurbishable, or that I’d break something when taking them apart, but nope: patience, soapy water and white spirit.

I did however run out of duck tape while covering the opening and had to leave the boat for a few days… that may happen again, so I’ll wait with the other 3 until I’ve fixed the chimney area and removed all the rust.

Besides that, I cleaned up the worst of the rust on the port side of the lounge, now ready for a day with a wire brush on the angle grinder.

Until next Sunday!

- Nick