The Sink Debacle

The sink on Evelyn drains straight out—no curves, no turns, just a straight shot down and out.

Lou wouldn't let me take a picture of the dirty sink debacle
because he thought it was too gross.  This photo shows the
bottom growth that had accumulated on our hull through
the winter, which was the reason why we thought that
perhaps the drain was clogged due to growth.

Environmentally-speaking this is disappointing because there is no holding tank or buffer zone, but it is a very simple system that works on gravity alone.  Our water is pumped to the sink via a foot pump, there is no electronic pressure, so a simple drain is most effective.  There is no shower on-board and our head is an enclosing composting system, so there are no other liquids to collect and Evelyn is without a holding tank—perhaps in the future that will change, but for now it is what it is.

Because excess bits of food particles wander through the drain as we clean our dishes the area surrounding the sink drain on our hull is most prone to bottom growth, as a variety of sea creatures feast on our leftovers.  Having sat still for the winter alongside the dock, there was a large amount of growth on our bottom anyway.  We had also removed all of our traditional bottom paint last spring and replaced it with a more environmentally friendly sort (which we believe will one day be the norm but is now still relatively unusual).  We didn’t know anyone personally who had used this type on a wooden boat and then kept the boat in the water year-round, so the results of the paints effectiveness, which would be unknown until our haul-out, were a bit of a mystery to us.  Therefore, there was a possibility that the bottom growth surrounding our drain was more robust than usual.

There are two other details that are important back-history to this story.  The first is that the aforementioned drain, going straight down, is always submerged.  Therefore, there is always some sea water towards the bottom of it, pushing in from the outside.  The second, is that Lou and I consume a lot of olive oil.  A LOT.

So towards the end of May, or about the 22^nd or 23^rd, we had an experience with our sink that had us reflecting on all of those details.

When we did haul out, the short cruise from Northeast Harbor
to Manset washed away most of the growth, and it wasn't
as bad as we had imagined it might be.

In short, as Lou washed the dishes on one side of the sink, the other side, which we use as the spot where our dishes dry, filled with gross dirty seawater mixed with a lot of old, rank, foul-smelling olive oil.  The look and smell was stomach-churning, and it took all night to just barely seep out of the sink—it still sat in the drain just below the bottom of the sink, and each time a pump of fresh water tried to drain its way out, up came more sludgy grossness.

We thought about it a lot the next day, and decided that since oil tends to sit on top of water, teeny bits of olive oil must have always sat atop the seawater in the drain, slowly accumulating and never draining until hitting a crucial amount that filled the entire drain pipe and floated out into the sink as fresh water slowly sank and trickled outwards.  The accumulation now punishing us might be the accumulation of months, perhaps even a year, especially because we had moved so little these past few months and had not hauled out in over a year.

Our theory seemed reasonable, so the following day we drove out to Ellsworth and bought a siphon.  That night, we spent a few hours slowly (and messily) siphoning rancid olive oil from our sink, and then the sink drained well.  The problem was solved…or so we thought.

A few days later, the dirty sink water was back (though this time without the layer of olive oil).  We were as
frustrated as before, but had not been too impressed with the siphon-method.  This time, we attacked it with a wet vac.  Lou used the wet vac to suck water from the sink until it ran clear and was pure sea water coming from the outside.  It worked well, aside from the moment when Lou moved the hose aside too quickly and the inertia of the water was already too strong to stop—that time a stream of seawater shot from the sink like a geyser, hit the ceiling, and deflected around the cabin.

Why had the sink clogged again?  The only explanation we could think of was the the bottom growth surrounding the sink drain was so extreme that it was impeding or clogging the drain.  This theory seemed reasonable, and after the mass suction the sink drained well, so we thought the problem was solved well enough to last us until our haul out.  Wrong again.

A few days later the dirty sink water was back again.  This time, we attacked it with the portable pump we use in our dinghy, pumping the water into a bucket.  This worked well, until the pressure built and the hose shot off, sending dirty sink water shooting at me, the bucket holder, and the cushions behind me.

What did we learn?  1. You should always use one hand to hold the pump’s hose to the pump’s spout if the hose is removable.  2. When we one day have the savings to replace Evelyn’s cushions we will not choose white fabric.  3. The bottom growth must be worse than we thought, because we could think of no other explanation.  There couldn’t be a clog in the hose, because reason convinced us that if there were it would have been sucked out with the wet vac days before.

The bottom growth that remained easily
came off as Lou power-washed the bottom.

Not surprisingly, the night before our haul out the sink was once again filled with dirty drain water.  This time we decided to just ignore the problem—in a few hours we would haul out, and as the boat was pulled from the water onto land, gravity would do its thing and water would seep to earth.

Wrong again.

The dirty drain water traveled from Northeast Harbor to Manset in the sink, Evelyn was hauled out at the town ramp and driven by truck to Oceanhouse.  Lou power-washed her bottom and washed off all the bottom growth—there was a lot, but less than we thought there might be…all in all, the environmentally-friendly paint worked well and we are excited to use it again.  Then Evelyn was moved and set atop stands, where she will remain as we work on her.

After all that moving around we set up a ladder, and I climbed aboard to make lunch.  I looked in the sink, and was shocked, confused, and horrified to see that the water had not drained a drip.

Lou was devastated and started pulling up the floor boards to get at the drain tubes, thinking he would have to disassemble them and reconstruct the drain.  And that’s when he realized the seacock was mostly-shut.

For those who don’t know, a seacock is like a valve that can be open and shut for the openings on a boat.  That way, if a problem or emergency arises, the openings in the hull can be closed off so that water can’t come in somehow ours was shut—or mostly shut—we can’t recall when or how, but it was impeding the outward flow of water.

So the big lesson here was before making due with a less-than-desirable situation and assuming the worst, always check the most basic...