RUDDER REBUILD
A hard grounding leads to a summer of discontent for Nigel Calder
Nigel Calder reports on the complexities of a major repair following a hard grounding
While cruising the coast of Portugal last summer, I drove Nada, our Malo 46 sailboat, hard onto a sandspit in 3ft breaking seas. All Malos are exceptionally strongly built, so I was not immediately concerned about the hull. The rudder, however, was taking a beating as it hit the bottom in every wave trough. Nonetheless, we made it into deeper water with the rudder still working.
From there we had an easy three-hour motorsail to Baiona, Spain, which had the nearest boatyard with a Travelhoist. We then arranged a haulout to check for damage, which proved to be much worse than we expected.
The first task was to find someone to repair the boat. This was theoretically easy in as much as a service and repair company, RoNautica, also operated in the boatyard, and it was not safe to move Nada. However, almost nobody spoke English, and the outfit looked pretty rinky-dink, with no proper workshop on site and what appeared to be poor shop practices. Although I was assured that the fiberglass technician, Rubio, was highly experienced, I could not tell whether he or anyone else was familiar with our type of rudder.
The Spanish surveyor hired by Pantaenius, our insurance company, also spoke very little English. Nonetheless, he made a perfunctory visual inspection of the damage, after which he and RoNautica discussed the repair and came up with a plan of action. We were promised the repair could be completed in two to three weeks and would be stronger than the original construction. In the meantime, my wife, Terrie, and I would not be allowed to camp out on Nada, so we found the first of several Airbnb’s and moved ashore.
In 35 years of cruising, we have never made an insurance claim. I was under the impression the surveyor hired by the insurance company would act as a project manager. However, I was politely informed that it was my responsibility to hire the workers, get an estimate for the repairs and then sign off on them when they were done. It was also my job to act as project manager. If I wanted someone else to do this (such as the surveyor) I was informed I would have to contract for this and pay for it separately. Apparently, the surveyor’s only job was to make sure the estimate was acceptable.
WORK BEGINS
The rudder was removed the day after the surveyor came. As a result of the grounding, it was now partially curved along its length and split apart on the top and forward seams, which meant the two halves needed to be pried apart to effect a repair. At this time our primary mediator with RoNautica, Alex, took off for a week’s holiday. It was then several days before we could persuade anyone to attempt to split the rudder, during which time nothing was done. Terrie and I were quickly getting frustrated.
Finally, a delightfully cheerful fellow, Jose, attacked the seam with a cold chisel and hammer: so vigorously, in fact, that I worried he might do permanent damage to the surrounding laminate. I supplied an angle grinder from among our onboard tools; he supplied a considerable number of wooden wedges; and the job was done in a couple of hours—Jose grinding away in a cloud of fiberglass dust without protective clothing, periodically driving in wedges with gusto.
After that the two shells needed to be thoroughly cleaned. Again, RoNautica had no shop on-site, so the work was done outside under a portable awning. At this point, Rubio took over from Jose. Unfortunately, we discovered that Rubio, though meticulous, was frequently distracted, and it was a good day if he got in four hours of work. In the end the job took a week. Terrie and I would happily have done the work in a day, but couldn’t see a way to insert ourselves into the process without causing offense.
PARTS AND PIECES
In addition to repairing the rudder itself, we also needed new seals and a bearing for the rudder tube. The original assembly had been built by the Danish company Jefa, so I contacted them and discovered that although Malo has effectively been out of business for a decade, Jefa still had all the parts. I was warned, though, that Jefa was shortly to go on its annual vacation, which in Europe is typically a month. Jefa also wanted payment before sending anything, which I could see taking several days and running us into the vacation period, at which point we would be well and truly stuck. The bills from staying ashore were also now piling up, and friends were due to fly in and join us in a couple of weeks. I therefore told Jefa I would pay for the parts and sort it out later with the insurers.
Alex returned that Monday, and we had a bit of
a meltdown over the fact the promised work had not yet begun on the hull repairs. Perhaps because of the resulting argument (or perhaps it was all part of the plan and simply a matter of language difficulties) the next morning, 10 days after the rudder had been removed and work had technically commenced, we finally got on a roll. Two weeks later we thought we were done.
In one sense we had been lucky. In spite of the primitive working conditions, it became clear that Rubio was not only experienced with fiberglass but extremely conscientious. The repair of both the rudder and hull was done with considerable skill. Considering we’d had the accident immediately before the start of the summer vacation season in Europe, we’d also been remarkably lucky to have found the labor and repair parts we needed, not to mention get the job done, in just over three weeks. We parted with RoNautica on good terms.
NOT SO FAST...
From there it was across the somewhat notorious Bay of Biscay to northern France. The trip began as a quiet motorsail in light winds and calm seas, but ended with 30-knot winds gusting to 40, and rough seas and considerable rudder loads. As this was happening Nada began taking on water, bubbling up through the base of a limber hole close to the rudder-repair area. I had a theory on how the water was getting in that, if correct, meant we had no serious structural problems. However, I was not about to attempt any further repairs in a country where we could not speak the language.
After holing up in a marina in France to wait until the gale blew itself out, we motorsailed to Falmouth, England, at the same time letting Pantaenius know we had a leak. Pantaenius then contacted a local surveyor, David Cox, who showed up as soon as we arrived in Falmouth and immediately had us hauled by the Falmouth Boat Company (FBC).
Unfortunately, the minute the hull emerged from the water, we could see we had a serious problem: the antifouling paint, which had only been put on a couple of weeks earlier, was now missing at the junction between the skeg with the hull. We also found we could now flex the skeg and rudder from side to side by hand, with water dribbling out of the cracks that had now opened up around them. My theories as to the source the leak were completely wrong. The Spanish repair job had failed, but what exactly had happened?
David suspected delamination deep within the hull layup. He also speculated that the RoNautica repair had not cut back into the hull deep
enough, either internally or externally, to reveal this delamination and as such had failed to re-establish a bond between the hull skin (of which the skeg and lower rudder bearing are a part) and the skin inboard of the skeg to which the rudder tube and support structure are attached. In short, under load the skeg had flexed independently of the rudder tube structure, ultimately cracking RoNautica’s new hull laminate.
Core samples were cut at four different points around the skeg, and even though Nada had been out of the water for several days, water still dribbled out from the holes that were made. All four core samples also exhibited substantial delamination within and between the hull and inner skins, so much so it was decided it was not repairable—the skeg and the hull area around it would both have to be cut out and rebuilt from scratch.
WORSE YET
As a first step, I obtained the specifications for the original hull laminate to ensure the new structure would make a good match. FBC then lined the exterior of the hull and existing skeg with a mold release agent and laminated a mold up against the hull and skeg complete with locating lugs. That done, the mold was popped off the hull and a new skeg vacuum-bagged inside it using Malo’s original laminate schedule and epoxy resin.
Meanwhile, at the same time all this was going on, the interior of the boat around the rudder tube and skeg area was also disassembled. This involved removing various hoses, the steering system, the hot water tank, the central heating system (this is a Swedish boat!) and numerous cables and other fittings. The bonded-in cockpit drains were also cut out along with a couple of major bulkheads and some interior structures cut back.
After that, the skeg and surrounding hull area were cut out of the boat, in the process revealing yet more internal damage: damage so bad an 8in plastic cable tie could be fully inserted between the layers of hull laminate. A bigger hole therefore needed to be cut in the hull and the aft starboard cabin disassembled to remove Nada’s fuel tank to provide access to the work area—this despite the fact the repair job was already way over budget.
Meanwhile, as the bad news regarding the hull continued to pile up, FBC turned its attention to the rudder, which had been extensively rebuilt during the Spanish repair but without correcting a significant bend that now caused substantial steering loads when under power. Upon inspection, it was decided the rudder could be partially cut back and faired to restore the correct profile. However, accurate measurements were first needed. Soon afterward I received another e-mail from Jonathan Fielding, the head of FBC: “Having now been able to fully assess and measure the rudder, it is in an awful state regarding the profile … Can we discuss this when you have a moment to call as I am thinking we ought to simply make another blade and solve the problem once and for all.” In the end, the rudder had to be completely rebuilt.
TURNING THE CORNER
Back aboard the boat itself, the hull having now been cut and feathered back to the limit of the delamination, the new skeg, still inside its mold, was lifted up into place, using the locating lugs left on the undamaged hull to ensure it was correctly located. The skeg was then vacuumbagged in place with multiple layers of laminate based on Malo’s original hull specifications, with some additional carbon fiber reinforcement added for good measure. After that it was filled and laminated over. Areas of core that had been cut away were restored and the inner skin vacuum-bagged into place.
After that the now completely rebuilt rudder was lifted up and positioned on the bearing at the lower end of the new skeg. The rudder tube and upper bearing were then slid onto the shaft from above and bonded into place with substantial rudder tube reinforcement. When the job was complete, the rudder could be turned with the tip of a finger.
Finally, it was time to begin reassembling Nada’s interior, after which the job was complete—five months after we had been hauled out, and
100 percent over budget because of the considerably greater area of delaminated hull that had been detected. Soon afterward, Terrie and I flew back to the UK to inspect the work and to do sea trials, which went perfectly. We had our Nada back.
It had been a long haul, but in retrospect I realized we had been extremely lucky. Sooner or later the first repair job would have failed. And had the near gale in the Bay of Biscay not cracked the hull-to-skeg joint when it did, the failure might have occurred in worse conditions further offshore, resulting in the loss of Nada and even loss of life.
Nada is once again good to go. What is not so easily repaired is Terrie’s confidence in my navigational abilities!