Katona

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