Building Falcon 5

Building Falcon 5

These pictures are some of my favorites from Naples. There was still a bunch to do, for sure, but there was a whole bunch
done. She had all new running gear and the best engine she's ever had. The hull was finally filled and faired. The repair after
five years of sitting was done and done well. The hatches and portholes were in. Two new 50 gallon fuel tanks were
installed. The steering was installed. And she was about to get her name and port put on just prior to launch.

I put this old stainless Bimini rack on temporarily to give me a break from the sun. Truth be told, I never liked it and couldn't
consider such a thing on Falcon. It was ugly, cumbersome and a pain to move around, but it did keep the sun off and make
the cockpit a much better place to work in. I kept the heavy stainless hoops for years and finally used them for real while I
was in Cortez. I designed and built a great Bimini that I really have come to like.

I thought it looked very good here and was happy to take plenty of pictures. Unfortunately, once I got in the water and was
given my free slip, it was not such a happy site. My brand new paint job took a beating here, but I was really in no position to
complain. I just had to work as fast as I could and get the boat out of here. There were times , however, when I doubted that I
would ever make it.

Super low tides and years of silting in reduced some of the slips to unusable condition for customers, but free is free. After
these shots were taken, I fendered and tied the boat up much better to minimized the abuse to the paint. It also caused me
some concern about the rest of the creek, and how I would get Falcon with her 5 foot draft out of the place.

The original laminated plywood temporary deadeyes were rapidly reaching their expiration dates and needed to go. The
problem was, I still had no reasonable way to get Lignum Vitea and made the true items, and I had to admit that there was a
small voice in the back of my head that wondered if Lignum Vitea was really the best choice for these parts in a world now
filled with new materials.

A long career in mechanics and development taught me not to be shy when a job needed a special tool. If you can't buy one,
make one, or jury-rig something to get the job done. Here is a makeshift lathe to turn starboard into the new deadeyes. I have
no illusions concerning the integrity of starboard, but also don't underestimate it's stability in sunlight and a salt atmosphere,
and it's resistance to heat, cold and rot. If well designed and made, the deadeyes should do the work well and without
complaint.

There is a time in repetitive work when trying too hard to make parts identical is both counterproductive and disappointing.
The thing to do is allow a simple system to evolve and simply do it. I cut a bunch of blocks of 1 inch white starboard on the
table saw, then made a quick jig with the three holes drilled into it and used it to locate the lanyard holes in each of the blocks
as I punched out the holes on a drill press. Next, I put three studs on an old sanding disc mount plate and clamped the motor
to a bench. I attached each of the blocks to the disc, turned on the motor and used an 8 inch grinder with 80 grit paper to
quickly turn the blocks round. After that, I clamped a router in a vice with a 3/8 inch round over bit and - really, really carefully,
having already gathered too many serious hand injuries in my life - rounded off the edges of the deadeyes. Only one thing
left, to make the groove.

After some thought and speculation, all I really had was to remount the pieces on the sanding disc jig and use a different
grinder and an aggressive 4 inch metal cutting wheel and just 'eyeball' the grooves into the edges. I touched up each one
with sandpaper before removing it from the jig.

Hey! Ever see something like that stretcher thing before? Yeah, I know. A few pages back when I was in East Boston. Yep,
needed it again, but now it's such a familiar old tool, I just slap 'em together in my sleep. This is a new, improved version that
uses a hard piece of 2 x 4 stock with a secured bolt holding the turnbuckle at one end and three 3/8 bolt holes at the other. I
mount the deadeye by simply putting three bolts into the holes, holding it at the right height and tightening the turnbuckle.
The strain on the bolt threads holds it in place. After lashing, a few coats of tar.

By now I'd acquired the new masts I was going to use and had reconsidered the height of the masts. The old spars were 25
feet and 30 feet, and I meant to shorten them. The thing is, how much. It turns out that I'd never parcelled and served the four
1/4 inch backstays, and they would need to be shortened and respliced. I could, however, avoid shortening and resplicing all
the triples if I used my head and lowered the mastheads strategically. I finally settled on 23 feet and 27 feet for the new mast
lengths. With the mast steps being almost 5 feet off the water, that would make for a bridge clearance of about 33 feet, being
sure to clear the anchor light and allowing antennas to at least survive. The main gaff would need another four feet. With
these numbers, all I had to do for the triples was to mount them higher on the masts. An easy fix.

I still had plenty of supplies and made the new splices, determined this time to parcel and serve the four backstay/aft shrouds
as well. Look at that nice splice. Anyone would think I've done this before. I used chains on the pilings and block and tackle to
stretch the stays to parcel and serve. The old magic tool got dug out of some buckets and re-assembled for new service.

One of the sweet things about my parcelling is how it's available at any hardware store for next to nothing. The guy at the
counter says, "Looks like you're going to do a lot of taping." I couldn't resist. "Hostages." If you say it right and look around
nervously, they don't know whether to laugh or not.

The server has two weight options: light, like above, and heavy, like below. It takes all of a minute to adjust. I love this tool.
Again, once the rigging wire was brought up to date, I hung it and painted coat after coat of thinned tar over it to protect and
preserve the marlin twine.

Once I knew the old spars were too small in cross sectional aluminum area, I knew I had to increase the support beneath the
foremast step as well. I had a piece of 1/4 inch wall aluminum pipe that was scrap from another job. I mashed it slightly into an
oval using a big vice, then cut and ground it to fit the foredeck angle first, then cut the top off square at the right height. I
deliberately left the studs long th allow for the new step I needed to make for the new mast.

The two spars below include another story. I suppose there is no way this tale of building the boat is truly complete without
some of the other peripheral stories, and here comes another one. One of Royal Yachts customers was a nice old guy who
was one of those brilliant mathematician types who hedged if asked what he did, but carried only a thin veil over his contempt
for the intellectual capacity of all others around him. Perhaps there were few others who noticed this trait, or cared to notice,
which might be a more accurate call, but I noticed it and had some fun with him over it at his expense. He took it well, but
couldn't learn.

One day while traversing the Intracoastal Waterway in Venice, about 60 or 70 miles up the coast from Naples, he approached
a bridge and asked for an opening. The bridge tender informed him to stay left or right (I forget) because the two piece bridge
was broken and only one side opened. He acknowledged the tender and promptly motored straight into the closed section of
the bridge, breaking his mast and giving everyone waiting and watching a great show. As he told me this, I could only shake
my head.

We hauled his boat out of the water and removed all the broken and mauled parts of the rig, the boom, and the entire rigging
assembly. We did some repair on his deck and he brought the mastless boat back to the dock behind his house. I offered to
sell him the mast off the now gone stripped sloop, in Paul's behalf, of course. He was too smart and said that a 55 foot mast
was too short, and refused. I told Paul and he shrugged it off and asked me if I wanted the big stick, so I took it and began to
prepare it for Falcon. Now, all I needed was a foremast of the same cross sectional dimension. After Mr. Brokenstick's
wreckage had lain in the yard for a month, I told Paul I was going to take him everything that was salvageable and ask for the
scraps.

I did this and the man was grateful and he and his friend loaded everything into his garage. He told me I could have the old
spar pieces, and I told him I would see about splicing together a foremast for Falcon. I started doing this job and cut down the
55 foot spar for my main mast, and lo and behold, who should turn up in the yard (after pricing spars elsewhere) and want to
reconsider buying the mast? Mr. Brokenstick. (I like that name). I pointed it out and he went away sad. I asked him why, what
with his advanced degrees, he felt that a 55 foot mast was too short to replace a 41 foot mast with? He sheepishly refrained
from asking. We're still friends.

Once the mast height had been decided on, and the boom height off the deck was a known number ever since the origin of
the rig design, I knew How far down from the masthead to trim the top of the spar, and exactly how much above the
gooseneck fitting and below the gooseneck fitting the base had to be. I WISH I had a table saw big enough to make those
perfectly square cuts you can make on smaller stuff, but I had to just jig it up and do the best I could. Since the way to make a
strong splice like this is to cut other sections out of the extra extrusion and trim it vertically so that it can be forced into the two
parts to be joined and make a perfectly straight joint. However, the hope is that the two joined ends will fit together perfectly
square. You can see by the gap on the first photo above that I missed the mark a bit. I knew I would, and compensated by
making the splicers for the inside twice as long as normal, leaving lots of room for lots of fasteners. I also doubled the splicer
stock for extra strength. The splice is at the deck, so the extra weight is not a problem. I used almost a hundred screws, all
drilled, tapped, and sealed into the joint.

I took the opportunity to make the mast base block for the masts while they were being finished up on the sawhorses where it
was easy to sand to fit and try them out over and over again. I also made sure I made and installed the special fitting to attach
the throat and peak halyards to before sealing the ends of the track slots, making them impossible to get into the slots. They
are visible in the second shot.

All the spars, booms, gaffs, and things determined to be white, are also done with the single part poly Brightsides enamel.
Easy touch up and as you can see, a fine gloss. It uses the same thinner as the blue, so for my hull and my rig, I only need to
carry three cans. One blue, one white, and one thinner. The deck is another story completely. It's Awlgrip Ice Blue, and very
cool on the bare feet, even in the blistering Naples sun.

The new masts were now far more than just 'strong enough', but the 18 foot main boom still 'lacked' in my opinion. I wanted it
stiffer and stronger. I made an 18 foot core by laminating several pieces of solid strapping, then coarse sanded it into shape
with the big grinders and 60 grit paper. The entire core is actually the same width as the inside of the boom, and tapers on
the tip to fit up inside. This was sort of a long hard process, but well worth it by the end. I cut away the sides for 18 inches at
the gooseneck end so I could fit in these to 1/2 by 2 inch aluminum bars. I epoxied the entire length of the core and coated it
with thickened epoxy prior to driving it in, not only for a better installation, but also because it was hard to fit and the epoxy
was slippery. I had to hammer the two bars in and the ends show a bit of the evidence of the hammer. I also made two
additional outside stiffening plates which can be seen here, though only one of them is completed. The other still needs a bit
more smithing. Once they were done, I attached them with 3M 5200 and bolts, and filled the gaps in the end of the boom with
5200. I used matching bolts with normal nuts, cut the bolts off a tad long, and peened them over the nuts like rivets. I can't
imagine a situation where I would ever want to remove them. The fore boom has a nice bronze tiller casting for its gooseneck.
I made the pivot blocks out of a chunk of solid brass 1 inch by 2 inch bar stock Tony Harling gave me long ago.

The lesser goosenecks for higher places, those attaching the gaffs to the masts, were another area where I needed to inject
a great deal more reliability. The original cars I'd made were for the much smaller J24 sticks and I never really had much faith
in them. They were a first try, and from the moment I finished them, I knew I had to try again. The much bigger masts with
bigger slots were better to work with. Realizing that there would often be great strain on the goosenecks, I wanted to make
them as strong as possible, but they also had to slide up and down the mast grooves, with or without heavy side-loading.
They also were expected to survive extended use.

As chance would have it, I'd been carrying around a huge bucket filled with various turnbuckles and other fittings salvaged
here, there and everywhere. In said treasure trove I found a couple of strong, SS turnbuckles with toggles that I knew I would
never use anywhere else, and adapted them into the gaff gooseneck fixtures. I also used some heavy SS track, some old
bronze prop shaft, some SS angle, a couple of 3/8 inch SS bolts, and finally, these awesome little threaded eye-bolt ends.
After much hand cutting and filing and fitting, some drilling and tapping, some grinding and trimming and testing, here is what I
came up with. They work great, but don't try this at home.

And then it was time to stand up the rig again. It was certainly possible for me to just arrange with the guys in the yard to
schedule a time when nothing much was going on, and put Falcon into the haulout slip where I could use the mast crane on
top of the Travel Lift, but no. The thing is, for many months as I spliced wire, or parcelled and served, or painted, or
hand-made gaff goosenecks, there was a system of lines and block and tackle swimming around in my head that would afford
me an opportunity to raise and lower the rig myself, from the deck, at sea or in a slip. It had to be a system that did not require
additional people, or their equipment, or their consent and authorization. It was just that simple. My boat, my job, my business.

After considerable thought, I moved the finished foremast on board myself - a bit heavy and unwieldy, but not a problem, and
began to rig it. I brought aboard one of my tall sawhorses to prop the masthead up a bit and get a good look at all the angles
and potential avenues of escape the spar may bolt for it left unrestrained. I had every halyard, shroud and stay connected by
now with the exception of the triatic stay. That would be attached to the mainmast and be used to help haul that mast up.
That would be the only thing requiring my climbing aloft to connect. As I added one line after another, I found acceptable
ways to cleat them off so I could take up on one, slack another a bit, take up on this, let off on that, and a little at a time, the
mast lifted off the sawhorse and ever so slowly stood erect, firmly held in all directions at every moment. It was like
slow-motion art. I connected the forestay and the shrouds and trimmed and tightened them, adjusting the mast for perfect
alignment and rake, then relaxed and grappled with the similar, but different rigging to raise the mainmast.

By now, everyone in the yard noticed the foremast standing on my boat and came over and asked how in the Sam Hill
(southerners talk like that) I stood that thing up. I told them I showed it porn and it stood itself up. Then I started trying to
explain how I rigged it and their eyes glazed over and they went back to thinking about the porn solution. The next day the
wind howled as I rigged and raised the mainmast, with gusts exceeding 50 MPH when the mast was halfway up. Still, I had it
so well rigged and secured that there was not a problem and after a couple of hours, the mainmast was also stepped and
rigged. I had so much block and tackle tied to that spar that it looked like a twig caught in a spiderweb. The entire mast was
held suspended in the air for most of the time.

With many projects all going at once, while the mainmast was being raised, I had a start on the steering gear, the holes were
cut in the aft deck for the inspection ports (this had to be done so I could install the tow bits and rear cleats to use for raising
the masts) and the last 1500 pounds of lead was on the rear deck, ready to be melted into the keel. I actually cut these lumps
of lead into manageable size for the small pot with a tablesaw and ATF lubricant. I also swept up the lead 'sawdust' and
melted that into the keel as well. The blue look to the photos below is because I'd suspended one of the blue plastic tarps
overhead, and not due to overheated film.

I had long since given away my 50 pound lead melting pot and burner, so I had to come up with a new set of hardware. I used
the burner from a turkey deep fryer and rigged a handle on a SS pot. The first attempt at this didn't work so well, as I'd used a
simple long handle above the pot held with only tow hooks. When I picked up the first pot of molten lead, the pot quickly spun
over and coated my feet with the medieval castle salesman repellent. I can see why it worked so well. This brings a whole
new meaning to the words 'hot foot'. It didn't blister too much. I hosed off my feet and made another pot.

The second pot, with a triple grip handle, is the one above. This was only a bit more cumbersome than the first, but
considerably better on the feet. You should have felt how heavy my shoes were until a peeled the lead off them. Anyway, I
completed this job as well and melted the last of the lead into the keel, for a total of 8600 pounds of ballast. It might be too
much and I might have to remove a bit of it. I'll see once I get all the water tanks full, the fuel tanks, have everything on board,
and have the ships stores stocked completely - you know, food and stuff. If I have to take some lead out, I will.

These are some shots of Regatta Point Marina, where I went to from Naples. The entire trip was documented in Sailing Tales
under the heading Falcon To Tampa but is now part of the Falcon's Logs section. I never got a bit of work done on Falcon
while there, but I only stayed for three months before being thrown out. They claimed I was like a heretic or something
because I pointed out that they'd misspelled scripture they were posting up around the marina.

"It's ...'God's only BEGOTTEN son, not FORGOTTEN son. That's a huge misspelling. You've got to be more careful about
stuff like that."

Then Laura and Klaus called me names and said I was evil and that I had 2 weeks to get out. I made Klaus pay me an extra
$150 for work I'd done for him before I'd leave. From there, I went to Cortez, to the Seafood Shack Marina, where I still am, so
far. The sweet little Westsail 28 belongs to my good friend George Pappas. He and his lady Kim are planning to do some
cruising soon.

These are a couple of shots of the little Seafood Shack Marina in Cortez, on the western tip of Bradenton, Florida. Falcon is
out there near the end on the outside. I just noticed that these almost fit together perfectly into a large, single shot, so I
overlapped them. This water is the Intracoastal Waterway and that Island in the background is Anna Maria.

Yeah, pretty cobby picture patchwork, I know. I'm standing right here looking at it. You don't have to rub it in.

I like this view of Falcon with her new bow graphics on and dual anchors. Here also, though you can't get a good shot at it, I
have finally thrown in the towel and started trying to develop an acceptable Bimini top. I had a few quick rules: First, it HAD to
actually give me some serious protection. Secondly, no stupid straps holding it up this way or that way so they could trip me
each and every time I have to climb over them. (No, I'm not THAT feeble, but I look forward to getting old enough to BECOME
that feeble - there's a difference.) Third, it had to hold up in serious wind and weather, and Fourth, it had to come down
easily. That's not asking a lot from the man who developed the 'double 'T' variable balance shroud server', which I still own
today, as we speak.

Donny Capron, a friend of mine who I met in Cortez, gave me, among many other things, a roll of Sunbrella material with an
uncommon pattern. At first, to tell the truth, I was leaning toward using white, or light blue, but I had this, so I used it. I
widened it with 3 strips of the light blue material that someone else gave me. One in the middle where I joined two pieces
together, and one on each outside edge. It was about the first time I'd really tried to use the new Sailrite sewing machine.

The photo below is of me and Don Capron. We appear a little old in this shot, but we're really still both in our thirties. Okay,
then, sixties. I should be wearing a hat so as not to cook what little is left of my wits. As I am writing this, Donny and his wife,
Barbara, are off cruising the Florida Keys, then the Abacos, in their new 35 foot Catamaran.

Before the Catamaran, Donny had this sweet little 25 foot Cape Dory, and a lot of people would have liked to have it, but he
gave it to a broker to sell and the broker sold it for a lot.

After all is said and done, I like the material on the Bimini and so does everyone else. Who knew? It is different and it does
look good, not to mention that it looks like it has both the color of the hull and the color of the deck in it. Not exactly, if you
study it, but close enough. Next thing you know, folks are trying to get me to canvas work for them. Right now, I have jobs for
George Pappas, Randy (who was dating Lace Rose - he has the boat next to me, and someday I should learn his last name)
and ME, all waiting to be done. I also have a few offers from people who I will not do work for.

So there I am, all this time, looking at the huge, long main boom and worrying, fretting, thinking - (How am I going to attach
the mainsheet so it doesn't interfere with the Bimini and how can I be sure the boom (even though it's heavily reinforced
internally) will not snap it's tip off in a gybe?) and I came up with a solution. I just happened to have a 7 foot section of 4 inch
by 1/4 inch aluminum flat stock in my bag of tricks, so I cut it in half and secured it to the main boom with a putty made of
West System epoxy and aluminum powder. Of course, I stripped the boom to bare aluminum first and treated it for the epoxy,
as well as the flat stock. I used three bolts to hold it for clamping, but eventually made the two outer bolts permanent and will
use a bigger, stronger stud, threaded on each end, for the center, where the sheet will be attached. When it was done, it was
filled and smoother all around and I'd coated it with several layers of fiberglass cloth, then smoothed it.

And now, for something completely different. I finally bit the bullet and tore out the old steps. They were a bit punk in some
areas and never did really work as functionally as I'd hoped when I first made them. For one thing, I'd attached the battery
switches on the inside of them, above and behind the engine, which meant I had to lean in over the motor to change the
switches. Pain in the butt, not to mention that I wanted to add several more switches. I now had six batteries instead of three
(all Gel cells - 4 8D and 2 4D), and I was (am) convinced that my system of inverting the switches and wiring through huge
busses in the only right way to go. More on that later.

Anyway, out with the old steps and here is the new look of the cockpit front. I installed the top shelf, a 2 by 8 plank, and the
vertical panel, 3/4 inch plywood, all epoxied and SS screwed, then fiberglassed it a couple of layers. Next, I made a sweet
threshold out of Ipe and recessed it into the beam and interior planking on the companionway. I met a guy named Chris who
was in serious, okay, 'desperate' need of help in saving his Fast Passage 39 interior from the ravages of his attempts to
install new Hood SS portholes. We made a deal. When it was over, his boat was all right and tight and I had all new
instruments and senders, and a 200 foot piece of 5/16 BBB anchor chain for my second anchor. Funny how these things
happen.

2004

2005