I am a “Tweaker”, meaning I like to see how systems function and how I can make things run more smoothly or better or just plain nurdier, or how can I “tweak” the system, nudging it towards perfection! 

Spare us the rhetoric, Ross. What did you do now?

Spare time No.1:

The COLUMBIA III travels the rich waters of the BC coast and we often see cool things (whales, bears, fish, birds, other classic wooden heritage vessels not quite as beautiful as the COLUMBIA III . . .  and generally cool things look even cooler when viewed through binoculars. So you guessed it, there are lots of binoculars on the ship. To date they have all lived in the wheelhouse and many times a day there is a scramble as guests and crew reach for binoculars . . . a Pacific Loon is so worth it! But when the amazing occurrence has, well, occurred, then the binoculars get put down . . . somewhere: the aft deck, the salon table, the front deck, the galley counter!!! (gasps of “No!”) . . .  So I thought I should make a couple of shelves for binocular storage (not in the wheelhouse) to help curb this slovenly behavior and make it easier for guests to find the binoculars when the next Event occurs.

So a little R&D with some scraps of wood to determine basic proportions . . .

then dress rehearsal with the mahogany and brass bits to test drive the concept . . .

then some gluing and sanding and routing and rounding . . . .

and then staining and a first coat of varnish and fitting  the brass rail . . .

Its amazing how big a mess I can make and how many tools I can employ making two small shelves . . .

And temporary installment to test drive the concept . . .

Spare time No. 2:

Storage is always a problem on a boat. I never had enough room on my 35′ tugboat and I never have enough room on this 68′ boat. So I spend a lot time trying to figure out cool new storage solutions for the ship, from mug racks to tool holders and a hidden computer keyboard. So for years I have been eyeing up the aft companionway ladder and its egregious waste of space. See next photo . . . really its enough to make anyone’s blood boil with rage . . . .

So after about 9000 trips between shop and ship as I tacked together prototypes for each stair. . .  they are all different of course . . . 

I created 3 individual, removable drawer cases . . .  These will need to be easily removable for maintenance tasks in the area of the aft ladder.

And then 3 slightly quirky drawers . . .  If reading about someone else’s mistakes makes you feel better about yourself you will love this next tale . . . After a long day working on something (Parks permits???) I headed down to my shop to get some tangible progress  made on a real project . . . so I worked quite late and cut and glued together 3 unique drawers using my predetermined measurements that I had written on a  scrap of paper with the 12 different dimensions (HxWxDx 3 drawers).

The next morning I removed the clamps and sanded the first drawer and routed the edges and gave it a test fit into its respective case . . . it didn’t fit. It was an inch too wide . . . and the other two drawers didn’t fit either . . . .

Somehow, at 9pm at night in a cold shop in the winter, my tired brain completely mixed up all the 12 dimensions and I had 3 completely useless  drawers that fit nothing!

I decided it must be time to go back to mindless computer red-tape for a while and I made a new set of drawers a few days later . . .

Now. . .  I am so swamped with other tasks I am waiting for my “sand and paint” crews to show up to assist with the final painting and varnishing before I install them.

Or, as I like to remind anyone willing to listen . . . I do not travel the world in the off-season, nor loll on chaise-lounges in some sunny clime . . . .  No, I ruminate for years in a tedious and momentum building kind of way; whilst at the wheel steering the COLUMBIA III up long remote channels or over coffee in the winter months alone and gazing perspicaciously out my window upon a misty coastal morning . .. .    Ie: I had an idea that scurried about the edges of my mind for years and this winter i catapulted into action . .  (read “trudged”).

The COLUMBIA III is divided into 5 water-tight compartments: forward (or the collision bulkhead), chapel area, main engine room, aft accommodation area and the lazarette in the stern. The three central high volume zones have 2 separate bilge pumps and a high water alarm that rings (very loudly) the general ship’s alarm if water levels get unusually high. (I won’t tempt Murphy but generally a rare occurrence . . . ) But, astute reader that you are, you’ll be wondering why the other two zones have no pumps and no alarms.  Me too! 

In addition to the lack of pumps or alarms in all the compartments, there was no annunciator panel in the wheel house that would notify the Master if one of the pumps was operating. Generally, its nice to know if a pump is running as it might alert the Skipper to a problem before it gets out of hand. An example of this was when my desalinator burst a water line and was spraying salt water in the engine room . . .  the bilge pump took the excess water away but I only realized the problem when I noticed the discharge water getting pumped over board. An indication of pump operation in the wheel house would have alerted me sooner.

So after years of abject procrastination, (an affliction I am all too familiar with!) I decided to rectify this problem and I planned a remedy.

Here’s the “concept diagram” from the Mothership Adventures Research and Development Department  . . ..

And a rough schematic to make sure I knew what I was doing . . .

Then a pictorial view so I could wrap my brain around the physical layout of the number of terminals I’d need in the little display unit . . .

Then a rough prototype in cheap plywood to determine how small I can make the unit and still fit everything into one place . . .

Then I transfered that idea into a varnished mahogany  frame with strobing alarm and circuit breaker for system protection . . .

And a small brass plate to hold the circuit breaker in place . . .

and a custom designed face-plate created in town at an engraving establishment . . .

and 9 red and green LED indicator lights wired up at my kitchen table . . .

and then I forgot to take any pictures but I had to thread 200 feet of data wire from one end of the ship to the other to connect the pumps and high level bilge alarm float switches to the wheel house. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this (I installed 17 connected smoke detectors throughout the ship a few years back) but it’s a lot of work to inveigle rolls of wire through water tight bulkheads, under floors, under bunks, over ceilings, behind steering gears and wheel house wire bundles . . . .

and a small metal plate so I could fasten the whole unit against the wall . . . and 24 wires connected to the terminals . . .

And the final installation mounted in the wheel house.

So now I wander through the wheel house and glance at my little “achievement” and ponder, “I wonder what it’s like to be a normal human. Perhaps I should take up watching televised sports instead.”