We sold the yacht and accepted the inevitable – we were past sailing and there would be no more boats for us… or would there? By Shirley-Anne McCrystal.
A classic 1937 kauri bridge-decker launch we had always admired was for sale, so we arranged to share it with a son and his family. It was a bright light of excitement during the long covid lockdown.
But first we needed to replace the engine and eventually decided on a recommendation from a dear friend. “It’s quiet, economical and looks good too,” he said.
In May 2021, we ordered from the local agent. By August, we had paid the deposit. Then covid locked everything down again.
In September the agent wanted full payment.
“But where is our motor?”
“No idea” was the reply.
“Do you know if it has been dispatched?”
“Nope!”
A week later, we phoned again: there was no news of our engine, and the boss was on leave.
The boss came back: “Your motor is held up. A ship is stuck broadside in the Suez Canal. All the shipping is backed up in both directions for months.” We had heard that on the TV News. . .
Several weeks later: “Do you know the name of the ship carrying our engine?” “Nope, but we have the documentation, so we know it has left the factory.”
We phone every week, but there is no news.
On November 5 the marina’s CCTV had some news.
A miserable individual had climbed the marina fence and jemmied an entry into our beautiful boat. He stole the binoculars my husband had been given by his father 50 years ago and left an awful stench from the head. The police were excellent but could not collar the villain. The necessary repairs were made, and she was soon back to looking herself again.
Then, in late November 2021, we heard that our motor would be in Tauranga on December 11, ready to be shipped to Auckland.
“By rail or by truck?”
“Not sure. ETA December 17.”
It had arrived in the country, but Christmas halted further progress. Then, covid lockdown – again!
Finally, on January 25, we had the boat hauled out and watched with bated breath as the old engine was eased out of the starboard wheelhouse door. No surgery was required. But our new engine was still in its crate at the importer’s premises. Apparently, a new part had to be manufactured before the new engine would connect to the propeller shaft.
“How long will it take?”
“Maybe two or three weeks…”
There was no point remaining on the hardstand for that length of time, so we arranged to have the boat towed back to her berth.
January had become February, which became March. Our boat was sparkling inside and out, stem to stern, with carpets shampooed and brightwork gleaming. Her new part was ready to install, but the boatbuilder who was working on the engine bearers got covid.
Finally, on March 23, we arranged for a tow so our boat could be hauled out for her new engine. The faux shaft was lined up where the bearers were to go, so the engineers could establish the correct alignment and we hoped the new engine would fit through the door of the wheelhouse.
Work continued slowly on the engine bay. Then they decided to install the bearers with the engine to ensure they’d be in the right place.
“Today?” we asked. “Nope, the Hiab crane has broken down.”
Has it got covid?
What a red-letter day, or should I say a red engine day? April 8 and the Hiab has been fixed. We watched the engine advancing towards the open door on the starboard side of the wheelhouse. But back it came, to be lowered to the ground. It was too wide for the door space.
Not a problem: they took off the lugs at the bottom of the engine and it fitted nicely through the wheelhouse door with a fraction of room to spare. Finally, it was aboard and nestled in its cavity, which is where we found it when we visited the next day to see the engineers and electricians hard at work.
Our girl was returned to her berth. Back on the marina we visited the boat on Good Friday, when we unlocked the newly restored doors through to the saloon and walked up the stairs and into the wheelhouse. The big floor hatch covers were back in place, although one was minus its hinged lifting ring, which looked like it had been pulled right out of the wood. Those covers were far too heavy for us to pull up.
Happily, a young friend turned up to say hello and to admire our new engine. He quickly had the covers up. He admired the engine, its beautiful colour and the very expensive steel bit connecting the propeller shaft to the motor.
There were no electrics attached, so we just sat and admired it like new parents after a challenging birth. The electrics were still in their box, and we couldn’t reach the electrician.
It had been 11 months since we had ordered our new engine…
Tuesday April 26 and we were told the engine was ready to go. We were so excited as we prepared to take the boat to the painter’s yard to have the white portion of her hull sanded back and repainted.
The power was turned on and the inlet valve for the seawater which cools the freshwater keeping the engine cool was located, but it was a struggle to open as it was so stiff. We started the engine and water gushed out the exhaust, so we dropped our lines and cruised down the harbour.
Not far from our marina an overheating alarm destroyed the dream. We phoned the engineer, and he told us to “turn off the engine immediately”. We drifted from the Devonport Naval Base to the yellow buoy in Ngataringa Bay before Coastguard arrived and towed us home. That night, we barely slept.
Next morning the engineers discovered our water inlet valve was not fully turned on. Happily, the only damage was a cooked water lock which had been discharging water from the wrong end. That was replaced with a new water lock that discharged water from the right end – it was the last one available in the whole city! They replaced the impeller as well, which was out of alignment due to the over-heated engine.
The next day the painter took her up the coast to his slipway. On arrival, he removed the floorboards to see water lapping underneath. The automatic bilge pump switch had been turned off. It appears water was coming through the rudder gland.
At the painter’s premises the next day, our lovely old lady was up in a cradle with men busily sanding and picking out old car bog someone had used to replace dried out putty between the planks. It was supposed to create a smooth surface. It didn’t. She had to be taken back to the bare wood.
She was repaired and sanded ready for the first coat of undercoat. A batch of cheese muffins for the men’s smoko went down very well.
May 3 and we went to the yard to get a few photos of the bare wood. Our painter greeted us looking grim.
“I am not sure if you are aware, but the propeller shaft bushes are completely gone.” He explained that was the cause of the noise it had made on the trip across the harbour. Luckily, there was an onsite engineer who could sort it for us.
May 4, we arrived at about 3pm to see the propeller shaft attached to pulling chains – it did not want to budge. Our boat had sat on the marina for five years and in that time the maintenance was negligible. We now had the opportunity to do the remedial work she needed.
Up for’ard where the new bow thruster had been fitted, the boatbuilders had removed mushy wood and repaired the space. One of the painters was busily wetting down the hull so the planks would not open up. Best of all, they were communicating with us.
On the May 7 we peered round the gate to see a cover over the port side protecting the new paint. We noticed the propeller shaft was no longer on the ground underneath her. “It was warped,” they told us, “We hope it can be straightened.”
Monday, May 9 and we noticed the tube for the bow thrusters was fibre-glassed in place, although the bow thruster motor had yet to be installed.
May 12 and we had to vacate the slip as a long-term booking had priority. A base coat on the bare wood of the hull looked dreadful, as it always does at this stage. The motor was non-operational as the straightened propeller shaft had not yet been connected to the engine. We were assured she would be okay in the water at a berth not too far from the painter’s yard. The engineer and the electrician could continue working on her there.
On May 23 she was to be hauled out again for more paint work. At least the propeller shaft had been replaced and looked straight and true. It had now been a year since we first ordered the engine. Meanwhile, the vessel we had to make room for was waiting for replacement windows. There was talk of putting our vessel back on the slip and putting the other vessel on the marina, but the haulout winch had broken down and was awaiting replacement parts from Australia.
The winch has covid.
Our boat waited for over three weeks before we heard that the haul-out winch would be repaired by the middle of the following week. This actually happened! Our boat was back on the hard and the painter was fairing, filling and undercoating.
On July 1 we took some pikelets to the crew at the painter’s slip. He told us the engineer has covid. On the Wednesday, we arrived to see the first topcoat was on and it looked beautiful. The second topcoat was soon added, and then – after waiting for some rainy weather to pass through – the third coat was on.
The bandings (chrome rubbing strips) and porthole surrounds were in place and the following week the boot top was painted in a royal blue – she looked a million dollars!
Monday July 11, the painter called to say the weather was holding and they were ready to launch. Time to return her to her berth!
We climbed aboard and listened anxiously as the faulty winch complained loudly, metal on metal, as we slid down to the water, a bit stop-start, but in a graceful enough fashion for an elderly lady. On our trip home we rolled a bit over the whitecaps, with wind against the tide, but it wasn’t far to go.
At her berth, the bow thruster did its magic, and our lovely classic lady was soon safely tied up and looking beautiful after her extensive 14-month restoration. Finally, a fully operational boat ready and waiting eagerly for spring!
Menai is now ship-shape for us to enjoy – aged, but now sound, beautiful, and ready for the next generation.
