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A cruise as a trigger
May 2024, I'm enjoying a cruise in Southern Brittany on a friend's sailboat. Departure from Le Crouesty, Belle-Île, Groix, La Trinité then back to Le Crouesty. Not a great cruise, nothing very original for those who sail in Quiberon Bay, but we're enjoying great weather conditions on this Dufour 432, and even our teenagers are in symbiosis. Their dads are relaxed and happy. But alas, this happiness comes to an end after 4 days, at the wheel of my car in the traffic jams that freeze me at the entrance to Paris.
The desire to become a homeowner
It's not as if I were new to boating. It's not as if I didn't know the power and diversity of maritime pleasures. Even though I've got an itch to scratch, for several reasons it's not the right time for me to buy a boat: divorce in progress, financial insecurity, complete doubt about what's going to happen next. But still...
I'm crunching my numbers all over the place, my head is racing. I have no visibility, no means to take the plunge or just barely, but no parachute, no cushion for landing. As a certain aviator once said: " I've redone all the calculations, everything points to the fact that it's impossible, there's only one thing left to do: do it. "
The dangers of digital wandering
Like all of us, I've got this black rectangle at my fingertips, dazzling my sleepless nights.
And on my phone, from app to app, there's one you wouldn't spontaneously think of to buy a boat. I thought boats weren't found in corners, but rather in bays, harbors... Anyway.
Since I'm a bit of a do-it-yourselfer and a damn stubborn one, I'll try a search to see:
- 10 metres, to sail with my two pre-teen boys and be able to think about interesting things.
- Budget max ?5,000.
I've seen. Boats with a lot of work, boats too neutral for me. And then I saw it: 1975 Nicholson 33, engine out, ?4500.
Set in motion
An exchange of e-mails and I'm on the first train to Saint-Malo the next morning. I arrive at La Richardais. There she is, on her mooring, as calm as this arm of the Rance is beautiful. The owner knows his boat like the back of his hand. He's one hell of a sailor, having lined up at the start of the first Route du Rhum on a First 30. That's impressive.
I don't know if it was when I looked at it more closely or when my hand grabbed the balcony, but I know it was definitive when I arrived standing in the cockpit. You can't define it, you can't explain it. It just is. This will be my boat.
We unrolled the Solent and left the buoy. I wasn't really listening to the owner any more, but rather remembering the silence and serenity of the boat's movement.
I negotiated the price a little, as I had no idea how much work I was getting into. The sale went through.
A summer of renovation
It's mid-May. I'm leaving the boat with its owner until the end of June, the time for him to get rid of the 10 years he's spent on board, and for me to choose the yard where I'm going to take her out and which will agree to let me work on her. And for me to find out more about the engine, which is recalcitrant at start-up.
I reach an agreement with the Grand Val shipyard, which will take the boat out and keep it ashore until the beginning of August. On August 4, I'll be reunited with my sons for our second summer without their mother, who has chosen to suddenly change her life. Our wounds are just starting to heal, and I want us to experience the most beautiful and intense moments possible. But also to pass on to them my love of boating. In the meantime, I've got to get on with the work. I've got the whole month of July for that.
First moment of doubt
On June 29, I discovered my boat from below. Even when it's dry, it's beautiful, it's high, and the artwork seems to be in very good condition.
I doubt my intellectual sobriety to embark on such a project with so few financial means, calendar constraints in this month of July between a week with my boys in the South of France and a project to finalize for a client.
Back to work!
The engine hold of the Nicholson 33 is blessed for its access. Access around the engine is perfect, provided you're willing to live in a total boatyard, with no lowering block. The diagnosis was made by the previous owner and the shipyard that took care of it: if the engine won't start unless Start Pilot is injected, it's because it's suffering from a compression problem.
The Yanmar YS12 is a rudimentary engine, a single-cylinder unit reputed to be puncture-proof. As chance would have it, I know a mechanic in La Richardais who is an expert in many matters, and who had already helped me rebuild a YS8 on a previous boat.
New and used parts for this engine are available on the Internet. The DAM company in particular is extremely efficient. You can also find all the technical reviews, instruction manuals and exploded views on various sites. All you have to do is get started.
I operate in order with a very theoretical list:
Act 1: dismantling and checking the injector. What does the jet look like?
Once I've cleared the injector, I've come up with a very effective method that I recommend: filming with my smartphone camera in slow motion. The jet is as shown in the maintenance guide. Given the price of an injector, I'm clearly relieved. It doesn't solve my problem, but it's not bad news.
Act 2: cylinder head, valves. Sealing problem?
I dismantle the cylinder head, which is very dirty. I clean it with brake cleaner, which is very effective.
I try. It doesn't get any better than this. I take the opportunity to change the cylinder head gasket that could have been the cause of the loss of compression, but it's not enough.
Time flies, and I'm already off to meet my sons in the South, cylinder head in the boot. I'd bought some new valves from DAM, and had the idea of breaking them in during the week's "vacation". So I looked for a mechanical rectifier, and found a workshop in Pertuis that was able to carry out cylinder head leakage checks, and which could, if necessary, properly break in the valves. The test was positive, and the problem didn't come from there, so there was no need to change the valves, which I saved for later.
Digging for the fault
Act 3: piston, rings?
To see this, you have to get in deep. Open the engine. As mentioned above, the engine is accessible on the job. But I've got less than 10 days to go. I attack. Methodically, calmly, taking photos of each critical disassembly. Alternator, water pump, exhaust, crankcase...
I release the crankshaft, one hand to push from inside the engine, the other to retrieve the outgoing piston. And there it is... Side A: nothing to say, but side B: the die is cast. The piston is broken between 2 rings!
Between Eureka and Ho P...n, I need to find a replacement piston for a 50-year-old engine. So far I've found new parts: rings, connecting rod bearings, all the seals... but no piston available.
I searched again and found Meca-Flots in St-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie, a specialist in vintage engine parts, which just happens to have a piston. One round trip later, the next day I have everything I need to reassemble it. It's August 1. I didn't stop for a second, since everyone knows that between two actions, a third is always grafted onto a boat under construction.
A motor for a stud
I start reassembling, step by step. Late, too late. Fatigue or age denial prevents me from noticing the incorrect setting of the torque wrench I'm using to tighten the crankshaft. It must be 10 or 11 pm. Under the strain of tightening, the second stud has just given way. I feel dizzy. So close, I'm going to fail. In all humility, I practice the Moitessier mental cape. No need to think, no need to act. Just wait for the squall to pass.
First thing the next morning, I was crisscrossing North Brittany, by car and by phone, visiting all the garages and calling all the worksites. Nobody would have a compatible dowel.
Until... " Go and look over there at the back, I might have one... "Yes, that's it, the grail, rusty, already partially boned, but it's definitely a YS12 lying around. Miraculously, or fortunately given its condition, the studs are in place, the piston blocked, but it doesn't matter. The yard forced me to buy the whole engine for one bolt, but it was worth all the gold in the world to me.
Last minute!
I head back to the boat, as the launch is scheduled for the following day, Friday. I finish putting everything back in place, and as I reinstall the last breather, under the cylinder head, it breaks clean off, eaten away by rust. Again, by chance, on the engine left in the yard at the bottom of the Rance, this famous breather remains, exactly the same. And it's the last part that can be dismantled!
It's vacation time for the shipyard and the last possible tide for a launch.
The boat is thoroughly cleaned and finished, and I wait for my mechanic friend to come and adjust the injector to make sure the engine works perfectly when we launch. It's a good thing he was there. I wouldn't have been able to start on my own. The injection controller was incorrectly mounted. The engine couldn't run properly. As the crane moved into position, the engine finished being set up, and the launch took place as soon as the engine was stalled.
Incredible but true, it's a success, it works, everything works.
The pleasure of a successful repair
I take a trip around the Rance, jubilant with happiness. I christen the boat by cutting her wake, as tradition dictates, and head for an anchorage for my first night on board, on the water. Then it's off to Saint-Cast to pick up my young crew, followed by a first cruise to Vannes before some salty adventures. This mechanical renovation cost me a few hundred euros, a lot of time, a lot of thought, a lot of kilometers and above all a lot of luck, but what a joy!
