Lulled into expecting a quick victory: getting the old traveler off was the easy part.

I remember the day well; it was a hot summer night almost one year ago, when my father arrived home from work, stepped through the door and announced that he had a surprise for me. With enthusiasm in his voice he said, "Hey Sam, guess what I just got from Harken?" He then proceeded to show me six different pulley-looking pieces and other bits, wrapped in that air tight plastic that was nearly impossible to open. After carefully examining each piece of equipment, you’d swear he just hit the jack pot. He laid out the plan for tomorrow morning: remove the old traveler, remove the gunk that the old traveler had left behind, put on the new traveler, and go sailing. It seemed so simple, and I eagerly waited for the next day to arrive.

We arrived at the boat at around 10:00 the next morning, opened Grit up and got situated. After about five minutes we had all the old mainsheet blocks off, leaving a bare track. It was then that we realized that the nuts holding down the track could only be accessed from inside the cockpit lockers. Being the smallest person, I was nominated for the job. After a quick sip of coke and checking the locker for spiders, I was ready to go in. I don’t actually remember life in the womb, but I can’t help thinking that being in that small locker somehow resembled that experience. Lying on the top of the quarter berth cover, I stretched my arms to hold the nuts while my dad unscrewed each bolt from the other side. This might not sound so bad, but it was 90 degrees in a small closed cubby with 16 or so bolts to loosen. Not to mention my Dad has a knack for savoring the moment, if you get my drift.

With all the bolts out, my dad and I proceeded to pull the track off. Of course it was stuck with who knows how many layers of sealant, applied over the years. After a lot of fuss, we got the track up and began the second part of the plan: removing the gunk left behind. At this point, my father conveniently had to go back to the car (nearly a mile hike). He left directions and a bottle of chemicals that I have never heard off. So I started to scrub the gunk off, and then accidentally got some of the chemical on my arm. Immediately it made my arm feel cold and I start getting a bit freaked out; I thought I was going to join the X-men. It turned out the chemical was acetone, and that I was going to live after all.

A lesser celebrated sailing skill: the ability to wiggle into a dark and dank lazerette while wielding tools.

This is where step three kicked in, getting the new track on. Luckily, the way the track was designed we didn’t have to drill holes, but I did have to go locker diving once again. About 10 minutes and lots of squirming later I finally got into position only to realize that I had left the wrench in the cockpit. After repeating the process, this time with the wrench in hand, I spent another twenty minutes with my arms outstretched holding the nuts as my father tightened the bolts. When I got out, I checked the time. Now 3:00 p.m., I’m famished. Hard work can do that to a man. I ask my Dad when we plan to eat. He replied when we install the gear on the track. Then I politely ask how long will that take. He replied only 10 minutes. I’m thinking that’s not so bad. We proceeded to install the gear only to find out we put the car and pulleys on backwards. So off the gear comes so we can install it correctly this time. By now our 10 minute project has turned into an hour and a half. By this time I thought I might have more success fishing off the dock for lunch.

Despite the heat and the hunger, it was all worth it.

Unfortunately, time did not permit us to get to the sailing part of our plan.  I ended this long hot day very hungry and with lots to clean up. I think in his article, my Dad forgot to mention that part too. He did try to reconcile with me by taking me to Wendy’s on the drive home. When I look back on it now, it was all worth it. I learned a lot and got to spend time with my Dad. However, my parting piece of advise is anytime a boat project starts with the word ‘just,’ as in ‘just change the traveler out’ a mental alarm bell should sound. By the way, a few weeks later we found an access panel in the quarter berth, located right below the nuts where the track was mounted. Live and learn--we’ll be sure to use it next time.