What with advances in technology, modern weather forecasts are at least 100 per cent accurate, if not more. And although dog walkers, keen gardeners, leisure sailors and anyone who goes outside may contest this, it is backed up irrefutably by the science, as I can prove. For example, when they say it’s going to rain it does, and to the very minute, as if commanded by some higher being; and when they say the wind will be northeast force three it will most certainly be, beyond any possible doubt. It is not the fault of meteorologists if dog walkers, gardeners and sailors happen to be in a different place from where the weather’s actually happening, or on a different day. In other words, it’s the weather that’s right and us who are wrong. 

The other problem with the weather is that there’s just too much of it, but thankfully now that the BBC has ditched its longwave transmission of the shipping forecast, there’s a little bit less. The resulting reduction of anxiety is worth the licence fee alone, and if only they’d also can the shipping forecast, particularly the one at 05:20, the whole nation would sleep more peacefully and be more on-side with the recent licence fee hike.

When I first started sailing there were only two weather sources I relied on. One was the three-hourly Channel 16 VHF announcements, which told you to go to another channel that was either silent, buzzing with interference or occupied by motor boaters asking each other where France is and what time the duty-free wine warehouse in Calais closed. 

Of course, these days there are myriad phone weather apps that allow you to choose weather suited to your liking and temperament. Though they’re all unerringly accurate, there is a spectrum of opinion among Maldon’s waterfront sages in the Queen’s Head as to which is the best; this is not dissimilar from the range of views on which greyhound-cross is the ideal lurcher for hunting, legal or otherwise. Those with a sunnier disposition tend to favour Wind Optimist, while those who spend more time in the pub swear by Wind Pessimist.  

It is, however, wooden boat sailors who are most keenly attuned to the weather. This is because before you go sailing you have to varnish your boat every spring, on a day without rain or sun in a temperature range between 11.7 and 12.3 degrees Centigrade and relative humidity of 40.3 to 41.2 per cent. This year that occurred between 2 and 3.15pm on the third Tuesday in April amid a frenzy of activity, as that’s a relatively narrow window to varnish and sand seven coats. Unfortunately, as some people were sanding while others were varnishing, a fight broke out. 

I avoided the fracas by varnishing the mahogany surround of the barometer attached to the bulkhead of my own wooden boat. Barometers, it should be explained, are operated first by tapping, followed by tutting, because whatever the needle does it’s bad news. If the needle falls that means rain and/or wind; a quick rise after low is a sure sign of stronger blow; and if the needle doesn’t move, it’s broken. Thus, a barometer not only measures pressure but creates it. Indeed, one of my heroes, Blondie Hasler, who came second in the 1960 solo trans-Atlantic race, eventually threw his barometer overboard because he realised there was nothing he could do to outrun the oncoming weather. 

When it comes to weather forecasts, and whether or not to go sailing, I rely on local oracle Adi, our boatyard manager, who not only tolerates berth holders, but is less keen on the ones who actually try to move their boats. Adi is in effect a one-man nautical care-in-the-community programme, whose range of advice services encompass everything from anti-fouling and anodes to unusual rashes of an intimate nature, or, as he terms it: “saving you lot from yourselves.” 

In my case he’s done it countless times, which I think may be something he regrets. Typically I’d ask him something like: “I’m thinking of going to Brightlingsea, what do you think?” He’d study the sky for a minute – possibly to avoid eye contact – and then say: “Go for it, Dave, you’ll be fine.” And to be fair, he’s never yet been wrong, as I haven’t died once, even though I’ve never encountered anything less than a Force 7 north-easterly. When I asked him if this was always the case, he replied: “No, Dave, it’s normally a 9 or 10 – I told you I was saving you from yourself.” That just made me appreciate all the more how lucky we are to have Adi’s kindly forecast guidance, knowledge and infinite wisdom. I did go out in a Force 3 once, but Adi was on holiday that week. 

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The post How to Read the Weather: Dave Selby’s Secret Sailing Forecast appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Calling all boatyard managers, owners, DIY applicators professional applicators and chandlers… Antifouling does a great job of keeping hulls clean and is environmentally beneficial when preventing the spread of invasive non-native species and improving fuel efficiency. However, for these products to be government approved, they must be assessed for risk against the environment and human health. This is largely dependent on boat owners and marine workers using the correct procedures when applying the antifouling products.

Human and Environmental Safety

The British Coatings Federation (BCF) ran a survey back in 2015 to determine the extent people protect themselves with personal protective equipment. With a great response rate, the BCF, British Marine, the RYA, and the Yacht Harbour Association produced a number of leaflets with advice on best practices, to promote human and environmental safety.

• The “Protect, Collect & Dispose” initiative which focussed on environmental best practice which antifouling yachts and boats;
• the “Controlling Antifouling Washings from Shipyards” leaflet which focusses on best practice to prevent release of antifouling paints to the environment; and
• “DIY application of antifouling paints” which contains guidance and best practices on application of paints.

However, use of these paints may become restricted to strictly professional applicators due to their hazardous nature and concerns over risks. Antifouling manufacturers are keen to understand the how aware DIY applicators and boat owners are of the risks and need for protective gear, and the measures they take to prevent damage to their health and the environment.

Fill out the BCF Survey

Choose the antifouling survey that most applies to you:

• For Boatyard managers / owners

• For DIY applicators 

• For professional applicators

• for Chandlers

The survey will run from 4th September – 30th November 2024.

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• ‘True’ Vs Technology: Adrian Morgan on Sailing Gadgets
• Dave Selby’s Confession: Secret Blackwater Sloop

The post Are You Antifouling Safely? Complete the BCF Survey appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Thinking of Buying a Smaller Yacht?

It is a truth universally acknowledged that… the smaller the [wooden] boat the greater the pleasure, and I would add, just as important, far less of a chore to fit out. It takes time enough to sand, fill, prime and paint Sally’s topsides, then I look to my right where stands, propped up in the yard, a yacht not many feet longer than my modest 25 footer, and I thank goodness for small boats. Z4s, Hillyards, Debens of various kinds, et al, the list is long.

Those hardy souls who camp in dinghies under ingenious tents, heating their rations on portable gas stoves, get even more of my admiration. It’s great to be invited aboard a big wooden classic, and I treasure my time racing the McGruer Kelana, or squatting on the aft deck of Moonbeam, but would not envy her owners the task of maintaining them every year to the highest standards. That’s like grooming an elephant, when all you really have the energy for is to stroke a kitten. One is exhausting, the other is relaxing. Up to a point.

I reckon 25ft is about as much as one person can maintain, allowing a day for each of the annual chores. A day to sand the topsides, another to strip the varnish, one to antifoul, and so on. Sally comes into that category, but even so, after a week which begins with despair at the task facing me, then satisfaction in seeing the work list slowly shrink, towards the final push to complete all by the time the yard want to launch her, I have lost much of the enthusiasm and just want to see her floating to her waterline again at her mooring in Loggie Bay, a spit opposite the yard where she has been for a couple of weeks.

That 34 footer alongside Sally is more like a three- or four-day per chore boat, and I would not want to be the one to have to tackle the towering wall of gleaming white enamel every few years. Besides, you’d need staging, not the wooden ladder up and down which I clambered these past weeks. And I can just about reach much of Sally’s topsides from the ground, and the higher bits by standing on a few keel blocks placed around her. 

Adding a few feet to a boat’s length increases the work at fitting out exponentially. I used to long for the day when, flushed with cash from a series of best selling nautical murder mysteries I could scribble a list of what needed doing and let the experts at the yard get on with it. I would write cheques, and appear at launching. In fact last year I tentatively asked if anyone might be free to lay on a perfect coat of Hempel’s Polar White, as I’ve seen the difference between my efforts and those of a professional. I was once given a badger haired – I think it was, or perhaps Madagascan squirrel – laying off brush, something I’d not come across before, by a painter of superyachts. Apparently you apply the paint, then quickly caress the surface with the fine. I tried it once, but never again. It’s hard enough to keep a wet edge without stopping to caress what you’ve just achieved with the neck fluff of an exotic creature. Nope, Sally’s topsides are again this year flawless… from a distance, and that’s the way they will stay, until a new owner familiar with the techniques of laying on brushes, and (the correct) thinners takes her on.

Don’t get me wrong; maintaining a small wooden yacht as best you can, given sunny days and plenty of time is a vital and mostly pleasurable component of ownership. Once a year you get the chance to pore over every inch of her, stroke her flanks intimately in a way that is more akin to the grooming rituals of the animal world. For fleas, read flaking paint and tangles, small divots. And this year, annus mirabilis, I may finally have managed to achieve what I am hoping will be the perfect waterline. Hoping, as she has yet to be launched as I write this. After nearly thirty years of ownership, perhaps this time…

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The post Advantages of Owning Smaller Yachts: Adrian Morgan’s Boat Scale appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

The Old-fashioned Chandlers

I wonder when you last visited your local chandlers? In your dreams it may still be a place of romance manned by a chap, probably of a certain age, wearing a brown overall. As you walk in and step onto the scrubbed planks, your senses are assailed by the scents of the ancient kingdoms of the sea. Pungent Stockholm tar, the creamy aroma of fresh cotton sailcloth, a whiff of paraffin, sweet beeswax and an indefinable dustiness, all set off with a faint hint of distant mildew. Behind the wooden counter scarred by a million knife-scores, sit phalanxes of small drawers containing screws sold individually, by the dozen, or by the pound. Copper nails with roves that fit are racked up above them with smaller-sized fastenings alongside. Coach bolts, ring-bolts and the rest can be produced from the mysterious depths of a back room. Canvas sea anchors hang from the rafters and a shelf in the corner is replete with dark blue, cut-necked fisherman’s smocks to suit all sizes going up from ‘large’. The list goes on, with iron fids, sailmaker’s palms that sit comfortably on your thumb, thimbles galvanized or bronze depending on the depth of your pocket, and so on. If you find such an emporium you are blessed indeed. For most of us, the purchase of some decent screws involves an internet search where, should you be as lucky as I was on eBay not so long ago, you will find a description reading, ‘2 doz 2½ in. bronze No 10s in box. Not shiny. Made in Birmingham when Britain still had an empire. The best you’ll ever see.’

Chandlers Losing the Charm

I took a chance and hit ‘Buy now.’ They turned up exactly as advertised, but the buying experience wasn’t quite what it was when I used to frequent the yard stores in what was then Moody’s at the top of the Hamble River. Back in the day, Moody’s ran a smart chandlery that sat snugly by the main marina walkway, so you couldn’t miss it even if you wanted to. It was a harbinger of what is now the norm, with racks of sailing wear that make the wallet weep, light bulbs in shrink-wrapped packets, rope on reels and peg-boards offering stainless fastenings or small shackles in pre-packed plastic bags. If you wanted fifteen screws, you were obliged to buy two packs because they came with ten in a bag and ‘we can’t break the packs…’ To be fair, like its better modern equivalents, this shop was also good on antifouling and epoxy kits. The assistants did their best too, and it served the modern sailor well enough. For me and my pals with traditional boats, it was next to hopeless. 

One Saturday morning I’d gone into the chandlers looking for a small can of a specific paint to touch up my topsides. I remember exactly what it was. It was ‘International Green 175’. The sort of colour favoured by the Owl and the Pussycat for their cruise under the stars. The chandlers didn’t have it, but the excellent young man behind the till took me to one side. I knew him. He worked in the yard during the week and understood about sailors of the classic persuasion with lightweight purses.

It’s Not What You Know…

‘You’re wasting your time in here,’ he said confidentially. ‘Why don’t you nip down to the yard stores in the sheds by Debtors’ Jetty. They’re there on Saturday until noon when everyone knocks off. It’s not for customers, but the management isn’t around today and nobody will notice. Pop in and see if old John can help you. He might look intimidating, but he’s got a heart of gold.’

As it happened I lived on my boat halfway down the jetty in question and I’d seen ‘old John’ going about his business. He was a retired regimental sergeant major and was not a man to trifle with. He scared me silly, but armed with this new intelligence and in desperate need, I went down to try my luck.

I’d never been in the stores before and when I stepped inside and the wonderful smell hit me, I knew that even if they didn’t have Green 175 I’d struck gold. Old John looked me up and down. He’d seen me around too and probably already had my number. 

‘Good morning Sah!’ he began. ‘And what can we do for you today, Sah?’

I explained my predicament, knowing full well I shouldn’t be in there. John raised his eyes to the vaulted roof. Then he looked down at his polished boots and sucked his teeth. 

‘Well Sah, we do ’ave Green 175, but we don’t use them small tins ’ere. Let me see what’s on the shelf.’ And he disappeared behind a tongue-and groove bulkhead, soon to reappear bearing an unopened half-gallon can of the right stuff that would last me through the next decade if I lived that long.  

‘As it ’appens, Sah, the yard’s been using this large can but as you see, they ’ave not used much.’ With this, he picked up a screwdriver from his bench and popped the can lid open. As he tapped it back down again, he went on, ‘Why don’t you take it Sah, and ’ave what you need. You can bring it back on Monday when things are quiet.’

I did as I was told and I was at his door with my paint can at 0700 on Monday morning when the siren went for work to begin. John lifted the lid and peered inside. He saw I’d used about an inch off the top.

‘Not really worth saving now is it Sah,’ he said with a twinkle. ‘If I was you, I’d take it away and dispose of it as you think fit. It’s no use to us any more.’  

And so I had all the topside paint I’d ever need. Now, there was a real chandler. I think old John had enjoyed seeing me right as much as I enjoyed not having to pay a penny.

Tom Cunliffe’s Podcast

Want to hear more tips, tricks and musings? Listen to Tom Cunliffe’s Podcast.

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The post How Chandlers Have Changed: The New Age with Tom Cunliffe appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Black Varnish

Asphalt, bitumen, linseed oil and driers, consisting of red lead, litharge and manganese dioxide. Turpentine is mixed to thin.

Ironwork Paint

A good black paint, for ironwork for example, can be made by dissolving 1/2lb beeswax, 4oz hellebore and 4oz lamp black in turpentine (this was before the days of Hammerite).

Red Funnel Paint

Take the required quantity of red lead, dry it in the sun for half an hour or so, then damp with paraffin oil, so that it is even drier than a paste. After standing for half an hour, thin down to the required consistency with colza oil. This gives a light red similar to that on funnels of a Union Castle steamer.

Mixing Colours

French Grey: white lead and Prussian blue tinged with vermilion

Silver Grey: lampblack and indigo

Buff: white, yellow and venetian red

Imitation gold: white lead, chrome yellow and burnt sienna

Lead colour: lamp black and white

Red Lead Putty

White lead mixed with red lead in powder form, slackened if necessary with a little raw oil (good for gun port doors…)

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The post Old Rescue Recipes from The Boatswain’s Manual (1944) appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

As a builder of predominantly small, clinker dinghies in larch, my poisons of choice now are…

Paints and finishes

Varnol to prime bare wood surfaces, revitalise old, dried-up timber and provide a basis for a paint or traditional varnish finish. Varnol, thinned up to 75% with pure turpentine, provides a superb foundation, which to some extent penetrates into and sticks to the bare wood and the subsequent paint/ varnishes. It can also be left as a final coat, which can easily be touched up by misting with thinned Varnol.

Varnish

Best quality from Hempel, (Classic), International, Ravilak or Epifanes. No two-pack products.

Primer undercoat,

Hempel or International Pre-Kote – mix with proprietary enamel to give a semi-gloss before final topcoat. Underwater primer as a base coat for bottom paint.

Hempel Multicoat

For a semi-gloss finish that requires one coat, such as bilges in clinker dinghies.

Enamel

International Toplac or Hempel enamel.

Black bitumen

To seal the bilges on old boats, after soaking in Varnol, or as a last resort.

Glues

Collano Semparoc for all laminating or as an epoxy substitute.

Epoxy

To mend splits in planks (mixed with wood dust from the plank itself).

Clear primer anyone?

With the demise of UCP and Woodseal I am looking for a bulletproof, hightech clear primer, ideally one pot. I suspect I will have to go for International’s two-pack clear primer UCP replacement, and try not to waste the mix.

This feature was taken from the Special Souvenir January 2012 issue of Classic Boat.

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The post Adrian Morgan’s Rescue Remedies appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

On Nereis we used the two-tin system – two original coats of Novatech and one of Novatop – whereas on Keppel we’ve done one tin for everything, three coats of Novatech. On the rig they performed similarly although the two-tin version had a touch more sheen during the initial months, a feature appreciated on Nereis.

Keppel has had to fend for herself, with no boat cover, in various boatyards around Europe. Consequently, our priority was a woodfinish that’s technically sound. Aesthetics were of secondary importance.

A feature that we like about this latest generation of exterior woodstains is that they are so easy to maintain. Abrasions are touched in easily and it’s very easy to remove the whole system if need be.

Avoid the mars bar effect

A word of caution though: Never apply more than three coats initially and only add one fresh coat at a time during maintenance. If you build it up faster the wood figure disappears and your boat will end up looking like a floating Mars bar.

Resist applying a fresh coat every year for the same reason. Aim to give a light sanding every other year and one fresh coat. That way the figure stays bright, the woodfinish remains vapour permeable and you’ll have less work.

Since Novatech’s launch we’ve seen other market entrants, notably Sikkens Cetol Marine and the new high-solids Sadolin Ultra. Both are aesthetically superior to Novatech (unless it’s since been improved) but we have yet to see if they are technically as good.

This feature was taken from the Special Souvenir January 2012 issue of Classic Boat.

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Visit our forum here.

>> Can anyone recommend a decent wood glue for repairs? Rubysue

>> Type of wood? Internal or external? Structural or cosmetic? Work conditions? There are four or five generic types of adhesive with different characteristics that you might consider. Tranona

>> Either epoxy or polyurethane. Epoxy fills gaps depending on what additives you, er, add. It’s also strong and easy to use if you follow the instructions but wood must be dry and you need to watch the temperature. Polyurethane does not fill gaps and must be close-clamped for a good bond because it foams when curing and will push the joint apart. Less fussy about damp and one-pot, so very easy to use. Dur

>> Epoxy can stick to most other glues if it is difficult to completely clean out the original joint. If the wood is iroko or teak, be sure to de-grease before joining, though I have not had any trouble. Oak is reputedly not fond of epoxy, so Resorcinol is better, but needs thin glue joints and tight clamping. It is temperature sensitive too – no less than 100C. DownWest

>> Balcotan is a good general-purpose marine glue but the ‘Rapid’ version foams up a lot, good in that it fills the spaces but bad as the overspill stains can be hard to remove. SHUG

>> While the foam from Balcotan fills the spaces, it is not ‘gap-filling’ and has no real strength so you need reasonable joints and close cramping for a strong joint. Then it really is quite strong. Dur

>> Built a boat using epoxy, never a joint failed. Built a washboard out of newly-cut oak strips, glued with foaming PU that fell apart in two days. Rest of tube in bin. Maxcampbell

>> I haven’t tried Balcotan on oak but have used it to good effect on iroko – eg a new stem for an old dinghy and curved seats for a day boat. The dinghy lived on a drying mooring for some years, then a couple of years in the garden. Never a problem. Dur

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Ever since the birth of yachting in the 17th century, yachts have always chosen a different colour path to workboats, rejecting utility or camouflage and rejoicing in splendid display. Today, we are in a new era, where colours for boat paints can be mixed to order just as they can for your living room.

So the eternal question remains as pertinent as it ever was: what colour should you paint your boat?

It’s one of the least discussed factors in boat restoration. This is puzzling, as it’s perhaps the single most vital modifier of a boat’s look, and a regular subject for discourse in the restoration of buildings – and cars for that matter.

One possible reason may be the lack of record from history: paint on a boat does not, unlike rope or sail cloth, last long enough to tell its tale, and all photographs from the classic age of yachting were in black-and-white.

When it was time to choose a colour scheme for our 1932 Hillyard 9-ton, Billy Blue, we were confused about where to start. There were a number of areas to consider but the first was the colour for the biggest area: the topsides.

Painting the Topsides

Where and when was your boat built? You might know the original colour.

On Billy Blue, it would have been the off-white favoured by David Hillyard, unless otherwise specified by the original owner, in our case a retired naval commander. The colour would then have been described as ‘white’ but now we’d refer to it as ‘off-white’, ‘broken white’ or cream. Contrary to popular belief, pure white paint did exist then but was prohibitively expensive as it was made from titanium powder.

Aside from the issue of cost, off-white remained popular for decades because it’s much more forgiving of scuffs than pure, brilliant white. Our technical editor John Perryman holds that the brasher, pure white distracts the eye from the form of the hull. “Off-white also refl ects the more subtle aesthetic values of that generation,” he adds. Restoration architect Julian Harrap goes further, describing pure white as ‘common’ – in the sense that there’s a lot of it around.

Of course, you are under no obligation to paint the boat its original colour but, if you have gone to the effort of having sails in the correct shade of Egyptian cotton, rope in the manner of hemp and layers of varnish covering your original brightwork, it would be fitting to finish the job with the right colour. We only had a day to paint our topsides, and after a quick attempt with the wrong cream, we ran back to the chandler to buy brilliant white, at least knowing that we’d end up with a result that we found pleasing enough.

Do not fall into the trap of assuming that off-whites and cream boat paint were ubiquitous either: the one constant, from the 1600s until at least after the war, was the composition of the paint: white lead powder provided the body of the paint, and linseed oil the base; but there were many shades of colour.

The first truly black paint appeared around World War 1, a not entirely authentic (but very appropriate given its similarity to tar) coating for restored workboats and workboat yachts. Real workboat paint for wooden boats would have been muddy, browny grey, a shade often replicated on the smacks of the East Coast.

The first white boat paint appeared soon after in the 1920s, with a body of that expensive titanium powder. From the 1930s to the 1950s, it was common to mix in a small amount of coloured dye (not enough to reduce the paint’s performance) giving a range of pastel shades.

“Bright red was not the done thing,” remembers John Perryman, “and some considered green unlucky.” Different designers and boatbuilders had their own preferences when it came to painting their boats. Berthon Boats would often varnish a hull for its fi rst few seasons, then paint it brown or a pale green. Green (lucky or not) had long been a popular colour, derived from copper – and brown gave the suggestion of what the boat might look like in wood without overtly mimicking it.

The designer Arthur Robb, for instance, had a liking for an extra-wide sheerstrake with an intricated cove line carved into it. Jack Giles liked to paint his sheerstrake pale blue. In the 1950s, bolder colours came into fashion alongside the off-whites and pastels: noticeably mid-blues, burgundies, reds and browns. Geoff Mackrill of Teamac Paints recalls a colour card of that era with very dark blues and reds – products of heavy metal dyes from ingredients like lead (of course) and cadmium.

There was a big caveat with Billy Blue: she has tan sails.

White or cream sails can be considered neutral (they will go with anything), but with that bold area of colour already there, we knew we were restricted to white, cream or black.

Where will you be sailing?

If you sail in silted areas like the East Coast, you can factor this into your colour of marine paint, knowing it will always be the backdrop to your boat.

Considering the predominant colour of the sea you sail in is an old chestnut: fishing boats of the west country were painted in pale blues and green boat paint to keep secret the positions they were fishing.

The fishing boats of the cold north sea off Fraserburgh were painted dour colours, in contrast to fishing boats of the Mediterranean which were, and still are, painted bright colours like pale blue, to blend in with the perennially blue, warm waters. Warships come in a wide array of greys, as witnessed at the 2005 Fleet Review where many of the world’s navy vessels congregated. Billy Blue is kept at Newhaven, where the sea varies between blue, green and grey.

Also, bear in mind the temperature of your area: it’s OK to have a black or dark blue hull in Scandinavia perhaps, but questionable in southern England and undesirable in the Med or Caribbean.

This is because pale colours reflect heat and dark colours absorb it. In most parts of the UK, a choice of topside colour can be made independently of sea area. For a boat in a distinctively coloured sea area (the Med, Caribbean or the East Coast), it’s worth considering.

Antifoul Paint
The visual relationship between antifoul paint and sail colour is not of as great a relevance as you might suspect. In the case of Billy Blue, we were, in fact, advised specifically not to go for dark red to match the sails by Blakes’ technical advisor Martin Ingram. “It’ll look like you’re trying to match the two and failing, as they won’t be the same colour,” he warned.

We went with Martin’s suggestion of Blakes’ True Blue, which will fade in time to a mid blue. It’s worth bearing in mind that due to water opacity, East Coast yachtsmen can paint their underbellies any colour without much fade over a year or two. Sailors in the clearer waters of (for instance) the West Country, might wish to account for a full step paler in most colour charts over the course of one year.

A course of action suggested by Julian was to paint the topsides and hull a similar colour to emphasise the continuity of form.

The relationship between antifoul paint and topsides is an important one and one of Julian’s greatest bugbears in terms of yacht colours is the popularity of colour schemes (like ours!) which cleave a boat’s form in two. It is common for boats with a very lissom form, like Metre yachts, to have white antifouling paint and white topsides, but less usual on stouter yachts which usually have colours similar to ours. Finally, on a practical note, bear in mind that white antifouling paint does not perform as well as other types.

Painting the Boot Top
This has two roles.
Firstly, it shows where the boat floats, a vital visual signpost.
Secondly, if your boot top is painted at the correct level, and is a sufficiently dark colour, it will hide the scum line.

A boot top should be about 10 per cent of the depth of overall freeboard; about 3in (75mm) for a yacht in Billy’s size bracket. This way, the scum line will fall within it with some measure of tolerance either side. Painting a boot top is something of a black art; thankfully we still had a faint outline left.

Painting the Covering Line
This is merely a flourish – and the traditional thing is gold leaf. It doesn’t have to be gold however: ours is bare at the moment, but we may try gold (in dark yellow paint at first); red to match the sails; or blue to match the underbelly and name.

Normally there is some sort of arrow-like flourish at the bows (the Fife dragon is the best known example) and a roundel at the stern.

Painted Sheerstrake
Mainly on working boat types, this can look good on a yacht with a lot of freeboard as the colour breaks this up.

Painting Colour Schemes

How the same boat can be painted in different ways:

Last Word on Boat Paint
Colour divides people as much as anything else in boat husbandry. Unlike many other things, it’s easily reversible, so enjoy yourself and do as you like. And keep in mind that eternal syllogism: “If it looks right, it is right.”

This article could not have been written without the help of restoration architect Julian Harrap.

The post Boat paint advice – What’s the right colour marine paint for your classic boat? appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Safety glasses offer vital protection when using power tools. If, however, they are used in conjunction with a dust mask, they have a tendency to steam up, making the urge to lift them briefly for a clear view nearly irresistible.

We were shown a solution apparently used by hairdressers on their mirrors: a few drops of washing-up liquid are smeared onto the inside of the safety glasses, then polished off again. The thin film left on the glass prevents any mist from forming, keeping the glasses clear.

The post Keeping safety glasses clear appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.