As I mentioned in an earlier post, I bought a 12′ rowboat this summer.
It was a turnkey operation: in addition to the boat and trailer, the seller threw in a trolling motor, a couple of deep cycle batteries, a pair of oars with rowlocks, an anchor and line, a couple of Type II life vests, and some fishing equipment.
A smart man would’ve been happy with the setup as is.
Naturally, I immediately set about replacing EVERYTHING.
Perhaps some background is in order to explain why I bought a boat in the first place:
Once upon a time, I was a teenage lifeguard/aquatics instructor at a summer camp in central Texas. The staff there assigned me to the boat docks, where I was in charge of canoe trips on the Perdenales River. I also taught classes in rowing and canoeing.
It was one of the best jobs I ever had.
When I saw the ad for this boat online, I noticed that it came off the assembly line the same year I first I taught rowing. Coincidence? Fate? Destiny calling?
In any case, the price seemed very reasonable and so after a cursory look, I was sold.
First, I ordered a new life vest and longer oars that fit me better than the ones that came with the boat.
Along with the oars I ordered oar stops, or collars (to hold the oars in the rowlocks), and some heavy duty shrink tubing to serve as sleeves.
During the long summer months I also added a drinkholder, extra rowlocks and mounts, mooring lines, some line cleats, an Anchor Krank and 100′ of anchor line I found on eBay.
(note: some of the links in this article are affiliate links, which means that if you click the link and buy the associated product, the vendor may pay me a fee–your cost is unaffected)
Before long the older of the two batteries died, as did the trolling motor (after brutal overuse). Both were duly replaced–the trolling motor by a more powerful, 40 lb thrust version that I was less likely to burn up.
Of course, the factory paint on this 1976 Mirro Craft F-3602 was showing its age (much like its owner).
Summer weather in Arizona being what it is, however, I decided to hold off on repainting and instead contented myself with a redo of the trailer.
I was pleased with the way the trailer turned out. In the ensuing months the only change I made was to order a set of hard-to-find Caliber bunk end caps from the nice folks at Essenbay Marine.
I planned to start the boat painting project in early October, but in mid-September our peak temperatures (briefly) dipped below 100 degrees F and I could wait no longer.
Let me first say that I never would’ve attempted this project without this guy’s excellent YouTube channel. Educational AND entertaining–highly recommended!
Interior paint prep
My first step was to wash the boat and remove all the parts that weren’t riveted on, including the seats–thwarts, to the purists.
A heat gun made quick work of peeling the numbers and registration off the hull. A little Goo Gone on a shop towel dealt with any residual adhesive.
I drilled out the rivets holding the rubber Mirro Craft logos onto the hull and put them aside for safekeeping (I’d already “restored” them with a black Sharpie (r) paint pen).
Then I cleaned the aluminum rails–gunwales–with green abrasive pads and drill attachments. I didn’t want them shiny, so I stopped when I got down to clean, gray aluminum, and sealed them with Wolfgang Metal Sealant to slow the rapid oxidation you otherwise get with bare aluminum. It goes on like car wax: you let it dry and then rub it off with a clean microfiber towel.
I planned to mask the gunwales with tape when I painted, but I figured sealing them first would ease cleanup if I managed to get paint on them anyway (I did, and it did).
We then took the boat off the trailer so I could reach into the bottom without a stepladder.
I sanded the thwarts and the boat’s interior with a Black & Decker orbital sander (bought for this project) and 100 grit discs. I used green abrasive pads to hand-sand all the corners I couldn’t reach with the orbital sander.
Holy moly
The boat had an old red epoxy patch that was starting to crumble so I decided to investigate, expecting to find a minor crack in the aluminum hull.
Turns out it was a little more serious than that…
I promptly bought some JB Weld Marine Epoxy and a patch to cover the hole again. However, I was worried that I might knock it loose at some point, so decided to patch the OUTSIDE of the hull with something sturdier.
I’d never tried to braze aluminum, but after watching a couple of YouTube videos I bought a Bernzomatic MAPP torch and some brazing rods and did a test run on a couple of small aluminum squares. All too easy…
I’ll pause here while those of you who’ve tried this on an actual aluminum boat laugh yourselves sick.
The principle is simple: clamp your pieces together, heat the metal to 750 degrees F and draw the rod across the seam you wish to braze. When the metal is hot enough, the alloy will flow from the rod into the seam, sealing it.
The clip above shows some of the issues I faced: first, I couldn’t figure out how to clamp the patch on, so I just weighted it with a hammer.
You’ll notice the hammer catching fire about halfway through the video…
Next, the boat hull is slightly thicker–and much larger–than the patch so it was a challenge to heat them both evenly. Turns out aluminum conducts heat very efficiently…
At one point I grew impatient and heated the metal too fast, warping the patch.
Finally, I didn’t trust the braze and ended up “soldering” extra alloy along the seam. This looks ugly and can actually compromise the strength of the braze.
However, the resulting patch seemed sturdy enough, despite all my rookie mistakes. Just in case, I sealed it with JB Weld.
I turned the boat back over and replaced the interior patch. I figured this way, even if the amateur hour braze somehow failed and fell off the hull, I wouldn’t necessarily have water rushing into the boat.
After the patches cured I sanded them (relatively) smooth. I checked to make sure there was no loose paint left anywhere, and cleaned off what exposed aluminum there was.
A Shop-Vac (r) picked up the worst of the sanding debris.
I then wiped down the interior (and thwarts) with a rag soaked in white vinegar, and left it to dry for about a quarter of an hour. This was supposed to etch the metal so the paint could “grab.”
Finally, I went back and cleaned everything with a rag soaked in isopropyl alcohol.
I was concerned that all the sanding might loosen rivets and cause leaks–plus I had the aforementioned hole in the hull to consider–so I’d ordered some sealant.
I saw this stuff in a YouTube video on the boat restoration channel I mentioned earlier. While expensive, it’s supposed to do a great job preventing leaks.
After carefully mixing the epoxy and catalyst, I painted it on to all the interior rivets and seams.
I covered the new patch especially well.
Two days later, the sealant was dry and I was finally ready to paint.
