Rusty the Junk - Building Rusty

The Big Questions

What?

Rusty is a large steel sailing yacht, intended to be our home. A replacement for Duet, a comparatively small GRP Glass Reinforced Plastic, also known as Fibreglass. sailing yacht, which was our home.

Why?

Duet wasn't big enough. We had lived on Duet for about 3 years when we started to look for a larger home. We looked all over the UK at yachts made of a variety of materials and in a variety of conditions, from part finished all the way to well used and beginning to rot. It eventually became clear that if we wanted the perfect boat, we would have to be very lucky or build it ourselves. When the option of a barely started steel yacht came up it seemed too good to miss.

Where?

We found Rusty in Huntingdonshire, hiding away from the sea, upside down in a barn on Orchard Farm. We were living on Duet, moored in Southwold, Suffolk, at the time, so it seemed to make sense to do the work there. We organised cranes and transport and took her to Southwold, where she was eventually launched.

When?

We bought Rusty in the autumn of 1993. We launched her in the autumn of 2005.

How?

In order to build Rusty we have had to become comfortable with many different fields, most of which have vast depths of knowledge and practical expertise which we couldn't hope to acquire. So we were dependent on the "How To" books which, invaluable as they are, all too often slip into laying down rules without explaining the reasons behind them. Apart from a natural disinclination to follow instructions blindly (we wouldn't be living this life if we weren't like that), we also found that different experts quite often gave different advice - sometimes directly contradictory. Without knowing the reasoning behind them, we had no way to evaluate the conflicting ideas. So we have had to acquire a basic level of knowledge in many fields. This has been interesting, time consuming, painful and frustrating, usually all at once. One of the reasons we are making this web site is the hope that what we've gleaned will be useful to other people going through the same process.

Who?

Initially the plan was to do the vast majority of the work ourselves, only calling in outside help, for parts which exceeded our technical or physical capabilities. This went out of the window when we realised that being able to do something is not the same as being able to do it well and quickly. Left to our own devices, we would have almost certainly died of old age before Rusty was finished. When you decide to employ other people to do the work, finances become much more of a pressing problem. So we bit the bullet, Nick went out and earned lots of money programming peoples computers for them and Pip took on the role of boss, foreman, site manager etc. We started by employing welders and progressed to carpenters, engineers, painters and general dogsbodies. We also relied heavily on help from family and friends.

The Really Hard Questions

What was it like, building the boat?

It is impossible to give a complete answer to that. Here are some of the aspects –

To start with, you need a lot of self belief. Pip didn’t score highly here in the beginning, but has much more now. Nick, fortunately, has enough for both. Those people who knew something of what was involved didn’t expect us to finish. Those who didn’t, expected it to be done by the end of the first year. There was plenty of advice, often conflicting. It takes a great deal of resolution to go against the advice of someone you like and admire, however much you’ve researched the point. It takes just as much to consider the advice of someone you dislike.

It ALWAYS takes longer than you have allowed for. We had chosen to build in a place we wanted to stay in for a while. Consequently the first few years were no strain, even though we made very little progress during that time. Once we got more serious there was a constant drain of money, which caused problems in itself. There were several pauses, while we worked out the next step. Once we’d got the painting done we thought we were almost there – we hadn’t realised how long it would take to fit the engine, and more to the point the engine accessories, and the basic furniture.

As a joint project we needed to have faith in each other. We’d always thought that we communicated well, but during the building of Rusty we learnt whole new levels of listening and interpreting. You might think that discussions on such abstract subjects as what kind of rubbing strake A sacrificial piece attached to the side of the boat, that takes the brunt of quay walls, stages, other boats etc. to have would be calm and logical, but we had too much emotionally invested for that. The rows were major, and got worse as the project dragged on and we got older, more tired and more fed up.

Most people enjoy either the planning or the execution, rarely both. But you do need both. There is no point charging ahead – so many decisions depend on other factors. If it’s a joint project, ideally you’ll have one of each. We didn’t. Nick is more practical than Pip, but also the better earner. Doing a full time job, often at some distance, limited his interaction with the project and that in turn increased the frustration.

Where one of us had a natural tendency to be interested in an aspect of the build, they took over responsibility for investigating it, and largely making the decisions. But they had to explain the basic points and reasons for the decision to the other. It is a useful test of ones understanding to explain something to an intelligent but ignorant partner. It was more of a struggle with areas neither of us were interested in. Sometimes we didn’t even realise there was a need for information until the last minute.

There is a lot of problem solving needed, which is a skill in itself. It can be really enjoyable, like solving a puzzle, if you’re the sort of person who likes solving puzzles, or at least solving real life problems. If you’re not, you’re going to go insane. But time pressure, for Pip at least, takes all the fun out of it. For thoughts on problem solving, look here.

Was it worth it?

On the whole, no. We have ended up with the boat we wanted, and we know it well, but we have missed out on 13 years of cruising, and those were years of comparative youth and health. Financially it hasn't been much gain. We don't have the economies of scale or the trade prices that a boat yard can command. We have had to work to get the money, often at some distance from home. Even when at home, evenings don't give a lot of building time. One still has the usual inconveniences of eating, sleeping and housekeeping. That has made it much slower, which in itself costs money - hard standing, insurance, storage.

What would have been better?

There were several possibilities.

1. Continue in our little boat (and maybe keep an eye out for an upgrade bargain). We would have needed to crush our hoarding instincts and probably throw out some stuff, but we would have been cruising, which is what its all about. About halfway through our build we took time off and went cruising in Holland in our little boat. Because it was only intended to be a short break we left a lot of stuff behind, and it transformed the living environment. We had a wonderful year and nearly didn't go back. We also discovered the mooring advantage of a little boat which will fit in an odd corner, and isn't charged much.
   
   However once one has taken the decision to look out for a bigger boat, everything is different. It is much more difficult to overlook the irritations of a small space. A lot of time will be spent looking round boatyards at each new port. It is always painful having to turn down the cheap/free offer of something you would really like, but can't possibly fit in. This is much magnified when one could have had it on "the bigger boat". Eventually all the conversations revolve around "the bigger boat".
   
   
2. Either spend the cruising funds or borrow the money and buy a bigger boat. It wouldn't be exactly what we planned, but just having the extra space would smooth over quite a lot of adjustment. In that case we would still have been working for a while to replace the money, but we could both be working at the same time, so the money would come in faster, and we would have been more mobile. We could have moved to the work location, which would have been cheaper and more fun, and gained a lot of commuting time. We could even have worked abroad. I don't think we could ever have taken this course without knowing what we know now. We would never have believed that building ourselves would have cost so much, so we would have resented the years working, and possibly come to resent the boat.
   
   
3. As a compromise, buy a part-finished or run-down boat for less money, and finish/repair/improve it. We would have the mobility of 2) without being tied to work for so long. But the advantage of staying in one place is that one gets to know where to get the best deals on equipment and materials. Most ports seem to have a hinterland of invaluable little suppliers and manufacturers, but it takes a while to find them, and longer to build up a relationship and, better yet, a discount. And if you're as inexperienced as we were, you'll need a lot of patient explanation. Those who've tried it say living aboard while working on the boat is a nightmare. We've ended up doing that anyway, as we can't wait any longer. We'll let you know how that works out.
   
   

Conclusion

Having put serious thought into what would be better, we're happier about the choice we made. We still think it was the wrong choice, but only for the loss of so many years cruising, now that we are older and creakier. We only really know the disadvantages of the choice we did make, so the sea will always be bluer on the other course.

What’s it like, living aboard while fitting out?

Well, it has its irritations, but for us they’re more than offset by being on the move. We have several advantages here –

We’re not fanatically tidy people, nor do we feel the need to keep the place spotless. If all the fallout from a job had to be removed immediately we’d have twice the work. One exception we do make is swarf from cutting mild steel, which instantly goes rusty and marks the paint.

We have enough space to mark off an area – most of the saloon – as storage/work room. We have set up a saw table on the back deck, and all sawing, sanding and painting takes place up there, avoiding sawdust in the living area. But this does make wet summers particularly irritating.

We have living spaces which, although unfinished, and overcrowded with stuff which will eventually be somewhere else, provide a refuge. There’s a big, comfortable bed we can get into without obstacles, and a table we can sit at. The loo is basic and the kitchen is . . . evolving, but they are usable, and that is sufficient for the moment.

We’re currently cruising in very sheltered waters, namely the Dutch canals and the IJsselmeer. We don’t have to put everything away before moving the boat. We have piles of equipment, raw materials and general knick knacks that probably wouldn’t survive the open sea.

The main problem is that there’s always something one should be doing. But as a wise man once said, you can’t be properly idle without something you should be doing.