Here's another update on The Great Carved Door Project and associated matters.

I have had a lot of enquiries about the boat since Christmas, when it was advertised in a boating magazine. Today I moved it onto a rental marina berth to make it easier for people to look at.

This sounds like a nice simple thing to do, but the move involved me getting out to the boat at 7 this morning and jumping over the side with a diving mask on, to try to find the saltwater cooling intake for the engine and clear whatever was stuck up it so the engine could be started. Now, I *know* where the intake is -- how far along the hull, and how far down. However, knowing where it is, and FINDING it in water like pea soup, turned out to be two different things. The intake is approximately the size of my thumbnail, and the boat is 30 feet long by 10 feet wide, and currently covered in slime and weeds.

In addition, going underneath a large boat hull in the water gives me the creeps. I don't know why -- I have never been claustrophobic in any other context, but for some reason being in the water next to a very large object like this, which cannot be clearly seen and which extends out and down into the dark, feels *very* unpleasant. In fact, it scares the crap out of me. I have been putting off moving the boat for about two weeks, just because I knew the intake was blocked and I would have to do this.

I tied a rope around a railing just forward of where I know the intake is, and trailed it down into the water, so I could hang onto something and stay at approximately the right place. (Also, the current where my boat is moored is pretty strong and I didn't want to end up back on shore.) It took me about 15 attempts before I even found the stupid thing, and then almost as many again before I could both find it *and* stay there long enough to ram a bent coathanger up it and wiggle it around. There was only about five inches visibility so I had to be right up against the hull to see anything. The underside of the boat is filthy -- green and brown slime, barnacles, weed and various disgusting life forms are stuck all over it -- and it was definitely one of the least pleasant experiences I have had lately.

I couldn't tell whether or not I had dislodged anything, but the engine coolant was flowing again properly when I tried starting it, so presumably it was all worthwhile. As soon as the boat was safely relocated to the marina, I set to work putting all the things back on it which I had been varnishing or fixing at home. This included the Woodwork Project. (And you thought this post had nothing to do with the subject line! Ha!)

Putting the stupid carved door back on its hinges took even longer than the morning swim. The bottom hinge, in particular, is in the least accessible position imaginable. However, finally it was back in place, after two years of sporadic sanding, carving, varnishing, and application of fake gold leaf paint.

It all seemed worthwhile when no less than four different potential buyers looked at the boat in ONE DAY, and every time, the first person in the couple or group to get down the stairs called out to the others "OOOOOH!!! Come down here! Look at this door!!!!"

Brunnen-"yes, I am showing off. Sue me"G