2025 was a hard year.

I can say this because we spent the entirety of it in the boatyard in Kudat, Borneo, Malaysia. This was not the plan, of course. Which is maybe why hauling out sometimes feels like voluntarily checking into an insane asylum- an olde tyme one that only requires one signature to check in but seven to be released.   

Our reason for hauling out was to address a few timely issues.

First, to replace the standing rigging- all the stainless steel wires that keep the mast from falling down. And second, to repair soft spots in the deck. The standing rigging was ok, there was no visible breakages. A few years ago we upgraded our chain plates – the thick stainless steel plates that are used to bolt the rigging wires to the hull of the boat – but it was certainly past the recommended service interval for the rigging wire itself.

The reason we hadn’t replaced the rigging sooner is this is job that is usually done by a professional rigger who has some pretty fancy and expensive tooling to complete the job with confidence and we haven’t had access to such a technician for several years. We had planned to sail to mainland Malaysia where there was a rigger located, but unseasonal winds meant it would have been a 1200 nautical mile slog to windward. This wasn’t sounding fun at all and with rigging that we knew was past its due didn’t sound all that safe.

After some serious research, price comparisons, and consultation with the rigger who we were planning on hiring on the mainland, Steve decided that we could DIY the project using StaLok fittings. I am working on an article all about this really cool DIY rigging system and how we did it without un-stepping the mast (pulling the big stick out of the boat), so I will skip the details for now and post the article when it’s published. For now, we’ll call that one routine maintenance.

The decks, on the other hand, were a growing concern.

We’d always had a few areas that felt a little squishy underfoot – this is not unusual for a balsa cored deck on a 50 + year  old boat – but over the last season or two they had gotten worse, especially on the foredeck where the anchor windlass is located.

Having no experience repairing rotten, water logged balsa cored decks we entered into the project full of naïve positivity. And thank goodness for that! Nothing dulls crew morale faster than knowing just how physically and mentally draining the task ahead will really be.

Needless to say the damage was quite a bit more extensive than we suspected. Couple that with trying to work in a boatyard six degrees from the equator on the cusp of the rainy season and our timeline stretched a little further than we anticipated. In the old lemons and lemonade frame of mind I wrote an article all about the project that was recently published by Cruising World magazine. So if you’re into step-by-step explanations and photos of dirty boat projects you can catch that HERE.

Of course cutting up the deck meant A LOT of filling and fairing before we could address the now ruined paint job, which is when I decided we should start sanding everything back to primer and DIY that too, before we set about replacing the non-skid. And since we already had the handrail off the cabin top to fix the rotten deck, we figured why not remove all the other hardware so we could reinforce everything and hopefully tackle some long standing minor leaks. While we were at it, Steve suggested that we pull the genoa sheet tracks off the deck and move it forward, so it is in a better position, making sailing more efficient. This committed us to cutting more than 120 over-sized holes in the deck, filling them with epoxy and fairing them before we could start painting.

All the while everyone was commenting that by now the rains really should have stopped.

And yet, they didn’t for more than a few days at a time. Then, in February we succumbed to a nasty wet season flu. Not only did it take us down for over a week, it took a few more weeks before we both running at full capacity again.  

By mid-March I was starting getting antsy. So, instead of worrying about the exterior projects being delayed….again, we thought why not make the best of the rainy days and add a few interior upgrades to the list?! I varnished and Steve tackled the rats nest of an electrical panel that has bothered him for years. Not only did he pair down what was obsolete and simplify what was still being used, but he fabricated a whole new faceplate for the electrical panel, one that opens with a hinge for practical, safe access rather than having to unscrew and dismantle the whole thing. Together we re-surfaced the galley with some colourful new Formica. Giving my favourite space a much needed glow up that is both practical – no more open wood crevasses for EVERYTHING to get stuck in – and fun! I am sure you’ll be seeing lots of photos of the galley soon as I revive my Galley Notes recipe series here on the blog.

When I couldn’t be outside sanding the coach house ,I reupholstered the settee, made curtains, and pared down books, belongings, and clothing. Steve worked under the boat in the drizzle, changing the prop shaft, cutlass bearing, dripless seal, and giving the feathering prop some love. Knowing that the exterior canvas was needing to be replaced we decided that it was time to do another upgrade we’d been talking about for years. Steve designed a hardtop for the dodger and the bimini and sourced materials. I figured out how to complete the surrounds in sunbrella.

By the end of May we were both feeling like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I was ready to start rolling high gloss white paint, Steve was ready to start prepping the bottom for anti-foul. I thought we’d definitely be afloat for my birthday in July.

Then everything was put in sharp perspective by a death in the family.

I was finally thankful for the rains and delays and months of struggle. With the boat  still safe on the hard we were able to walk away without too much stress. Three weeks later Steve and I landed in Halifax, Nova Scotia after a 42-hour journey, 26-hours of which were spent inflight. The jet leg didn’t have a chance against the disorienting sorrow I felt. And yet it was so comforting to be home in the house I grew up in.

Steve was able to spend the whole summer with me in Nova Scotia. The glorious weather was a treat, the company of family and dear friends a balm. I opted to stay until I it felt like everyone was ok with me leaving again– myself included. On the early November morning that I crawled into my airport Uber at 0400 at my Mother’s house, the first frost of the year sparkled on the lawn.

The emotional whiplash of leaving a place where everyone sounds like me and understands me and I always feel like I fit in, no questions asked and at the same moment arriving back to the space and person that always feels like home to me is difficult to convey. Adjusting to 30C average temps when I spent the past few months in jeans and a hoodie was not fun. Getting stuck back into the job list, headphones on full blast to drown out both my thoughts and the dueling noise of my palm sander/vacuum combo and the chainsaws the fisherman in the yard use to hack apart their wooden boats, was a much needed distraction.

December was a push…

But on New Years Eve, when the travel lift surrounded us, both Kate and the crew were ready to splash.

Well, as ready as we could be. Working on your boat for months on end is one thing. Living on it while you’re doing the work takes things to a whole other level. In preparation to launch there was a fair amount of shoving things in a “safe spot” so that we could motor across the harbour to the defunct Kudat Marina where we tied to the seawall, med-moor style (bow tied to the wall, stern tied to a mooring).

And that is where we are, digging out from under the mountain of tools and debris from the yard, ticking off the rest of the jobs on the To Do list, and stocking up in preparation to set sail again soon.

Time has always been an important facet in my life, in many ways more so than for most people.  This year certainly reminded me how fleeting and fragile it can be. Writing has long been a method I use to record my time, I hope to share more of it with you in 2026.

Love,
H&S

P.S. If you’re still here, thanks.  I really appreciate you spending some of your time with us.