Winner of the Keel Weight Survey
The winner of the Dura Mater rudder survey is a new neighbor on E Dock, Nick Leal. He is the proprietor of Compass Canvas, with a workshop in Brickyard Cove and is the go-to canvas fella for Berkeley Marine Center. Nick is currently reconditioning his Erikson 32, re-installing his Universal 25 and a new transmission himself. Yes, pretty impressive. A photo of Nick with the Rudder Prize will follow soon.
Dura Mater’s rudder weighs 47.8 lbs. This according to my hotshot sailor friend who kindly brought all his professional tools to E Dock Sunday morning. He and the lovely Katherine were on their way to a local nursery, this being spring and all. She was very nice and even offered sympathetic murmurs as the visit disintegrated into a very sad conclusion: The rudder must be replaced.
G (we’ll refer to this sailor as “G” so that, if I am lost at sea my estate cannot sue him for malpractice) brought all his high tech equipment to the occasion. Okay, maybe not his highest tech equipment, but he brought two calipers. One looked like it was made of aluminum and the other one was a plastic model. But what do I know about the quality of instruments? Especially since results were the same across caliper.
First of all he tapped on the rudder with the metal caliper. He said that, ordinarily he would have used a quarter, except that he didn’t have one. I don’t even know what that means, but that’s what he said. And he had two rulers, one that measured centimeters, another one that measured inches, and he also used the word millimeters. Several four syllable words that mean different things.
G was very thorough. Impressively professional. I would go to him for a new fabrication of any part on my boat and even to fabricate surgical orthopedic replacement components. Maybe I would stop at trusting him with the neurological bits. Unfortunately G doesn’t accept my health insurance, even though it is private and expensive. But still. Here is what happened.
When he first arrived I told him how I had drilled a hole in the bottom of the rudder and that what came out were tiny and completely dry curly cues of white fiberglass. Then I propped the rudder up against DM and waited for water to drip out. It did not. No water dripped out, I assured him. That was good, said G patiently.
He laid out his tools on the deck beside the rudder, kind of like a surgeon. Starting at the bottom of the rudder (the good, dry end, remember) he tapped his way slowly up to the stainless tube shaft at the other end: Tap Tap Tap Tap (very intense scrutiny here) Tap Tap THUNK.
G looked at me but didn’t say a word, like a therapist who waits for you to say something revealing. Then he turned the rudder over and started at the bottom again. Very slowly: Tap Tap Tap Tap (still very intense scrutiny here) Tap Tap THUNK.
“Do you hear the difference?” Just like a therapist, waiting for me to admit my rudder’s inadequacy. I equivocated.
“Kind of. I kind of hear something. But what does it mean?” I wasn’t gonna make this easy. Rudders are expensive.
G had no judgement in his eyes. He just rolled the rudder over again and started with his tap tap tapping. Tap Tap Tap Tap THUNK.
“Alright! Yes! I hear it!” I broke down. “Stop!”
The Thunky sound was nearest the shaft of the rudder, where water had intruded over the past forty years. DM’s rudder is probably that old, and it had done a fine job steering her all that time. But over time, where the rudder post and the shaft had experienced the most strain, the fiberglass was compromised. Skip had told me to look for a “cottage cheese” effect, which are the bubbly parts at the top that showed where fiberglass shaft might fail at the stainless post.
G was sympathetic. He told me that a yard would most likely charge approximately $7000+ to build a new shaft and post and rudder for Dura Mater. A new rudder from Foss in Southern California, will cost significantly less than that. He offered a diagnosis with a qualification: I could probably still sail in the bay with this rudder.
“You have BoatUS, right?”
G said that he wouldn’t sail with it to Hawaii. Well, of course not. Who does something like that?
I asked about the Race around the Farallones and he considered for a moment.
“When is that, again? May? What is the lead time for Foss to fabricate this rudder? Six weeks?” I nodded.
G was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his expression.
“Well then,” he said. “I’d call them Monday morning.” And then he smiled to cushion the blow.
