While I’d managed not to melt the boat with my brazing experiment, I worried that painting would be a problem.
I can fake a rattle can touch up (like the one on the boat trailer) as well as the next person, but tend to get myself into trouble with more advanced finishes.
I did a lot of research on marine paint: I wanted something that would roll and brush on easily and wear well.
I found color matches for the original aqua paint in several brands, but these required that I sand down to bare aluminum, then prime with zinc chromate. Not a deal breaker, but when I talked to a customer service rep she explained that these were actually “topside” paints, meant for use above the waterline.
In the end I followed this YouTube creator’s example and chose a dedicated aluminum paint. That narrowed my color choices quite a bit: after doing mockups on the computer, I decided to go with SeaHawk’s Aluma Hawk Aluminum Gray for the interior and Jon Boat Blue for the outer hull.
I ordered a gallon of each from West Marine to take advantage of free shipping to their Phoenix store.
One difficulty was guessing what the paint would look like on the boat. The color swatches online varied widely from vendor to vendor, so I really didn’t know what to expect.
I liked the darker blue-gray in the West Marine ad, but–worst case–decided I could also live with the brighter blue I’d seen elsewhere.
I emailed SeaHawk customer support seeking last-minute guidance. They called me right back, and among other helpful tips, the rep told me to roll the paint on as thinly as possible for best results.
After a little more handholding, I was ready.
Taking the plunge–interior paint
After wiping down the interior with alcohol again, I opened the gray paint and mixed in some methyl ethyl ketone (MEK) per the instructions, so I could keep a “wet edge” as I went along.
(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)
The gray paint went on evenly and, because of the heat, dried VERY quickly. I was painting in the shade but the aluminum was still pretty warm.
Important safety tip: the fumes from this paint and the MEK thinner are noxious. Make sure you have good ventilation, and wear a mask!
I’d originally planned to sprinkle Skid-Tex antiskid medium over first coat of deck paint, but the paint was drying too fast for the Skid-Tex to stick so I hastily vacuumed it back up.
Since my way didn’t work, I decided to follow the directions: I dumped a handful of Skid-Tex directly into the paint, stirred thoroughly, and rolled the rest of that batch onto the deck.
As a result of all this flailing the antiskid didn’t go on as uniformly as I’d hoped, but it worked out OK.
I mixed a second batch of paint and MEK without antiskid and rolled it onto the sides and the thwarts. After trying to “tip” the paint with a brush–and creating some really ugly brush marks in the process–I forced myself to step away and let the first coat dry.
There are some advantages to living in the desert: with temperatures well into the nineties, drying time for this stuff was only three hours.
The first coat behaved like a primer, revealing flaws and drips from the sealant underneath. I chipped the worst of these away with the flat head of a screwdriver before applying the second coat.
It, too, went on easily. After another three hours I peeled off all the masking tape and went inside for a cold beverage.
I let the paint dry for a week, then sanded down the worst of my rough spots, drips, and brush marks with green abrasive pads before reinstalling the thwarts.
Hull paint
After turning the boat over I went through the same process as before: sanding, etching, cleaning, and sealing. Again I made sure to brush a good coat of Gluvit on all rivets, seams, and especially, my patch job.
I spent a little more time chasing down sealant runs and drips since I now knew they’d REALLY show through the paint. I was never going to get them all perfectly smooth–just didn’t want big, obvious drips jumping out at the casual observer.
Unfortunately, my 10′ x 10′ canopy wasn’t doing much to keep the morning sun off the hull. Although the air temperature wasn’t unreasonable, the aluminum was heating up quickly.
A patient, sensible painter would’ve waited for better conditions. I, however, wiped everything down with alcohol, added a little extra MEK to the paint, and pressed on.
First I cut out all the awkward corners with a 3″ chip brush, having learned that the roller would subsequently hide most of the resulting brush marks.
At this point I was thinking, “Wow, this is definitely bright blue. Maybe it’ll dull down a little when it dries…”
Then I started to roll on the first coat.
You can see two obvious errors in that clip: first, I thinned the paint way too much. Second, I compounded the first mistake by going back and forth with the roller, trying for better coverage. With the warm hull and quick-drying paint, this guaranteed roller marks and some pretty aggressive “orange peel.”
I waited three hours, then put on a second coat. This time I was careful to thin the paint correctly and tried not to backtrack as much with the roller. I let it dry overnight before inspecting my work.
The roller marks and orange peel showed up plainly, as you might expect.
(I was actually grateful that the paint adhered as well as it did, considering the abusive conditions and inept application)
Next I noticed that even after drying overnight this paint was, if anything, bluer and brighter than before. Bluer, even, than the computer mockup…
After letting it dry for a few more days, I decided to see if I could partially salvage the rough finish. It wouldn’t be obvious in the water, but I didn’t want people pointing and making fun when the boat was on the trailer.
Using the green abrasive pads (roughly equivalent to 220 grit sandpaper), I lightly went over the worst of the orange peel, roller- and brush marks. This left the hull looking cloudy, so I sprayed off the sanding residue–the paint was dry, but not completely cured–and tried again with white Scotch-Brite ™ pads, advertised as the equivalent to 0000 steel wool (I guessed them to be about 1000 grit).
These “super fine” pads smoothed out some of the scratches the green ones left in the finish. Since the paint looked a little more even now and the cloudiness was somewhat diminished, I declared victory and stopped before I made it worse.
I rinsed the boat one more time, did some light touch up to cover the spots I’d missed, and left the paint to finish curing.
After a week we carefully put the boat back on the trailer. I reinstalled the hardware I’d removed, sealing all the bolts with silicone, and then touched up the interior to make sure there weren’t any gaps in the paint. As with the outer hull, this was more for corrosion control than aesthetics.
This was also the point where I learned that MEK thinner doesn’t get along with red Solo (r) cups. The latter are great for party beverages, not so much for hot chemicals.
I felt the gray touchup paint starting to run onto my hand, and barely made it to the trash bin before the bottom melted completely out of the cup. Lesson learned. I finished the touchup using an official paint mixing cup.
Every time I looked at the paint job I found more flaws. Eventually I just trained myself to avert my gaze.
This went against the grain, since I’ve never been one to leave well enough alone…
Speaking of which, I decided the plain blue hull needed something to jazz it up a little (and hide the flaws in the paint). I had fun designing complicated schemes on the computer:
Eventually I got my delusions of artistic grandeur under control and decided to go with a simple white pinstripe.
Earning my stripes
My initial plan was to use vinyl tape for the pinstripes, but I didn’t know how well it would stick or how well it would stand up to hard use over time.
In the end I decided to go with flat white enamel spray paint, and followed this man’s helpful advice on how to mask pinstripes.
First, I cleaned the hull where the tape would go with alcohol.
Five one inch strips of painter’s tape laid side by side along this strake ensured the stripes would be of uniform width and relatively straight.
After peeling off the two strips of tape where the paint would go, I used a straightedge and an X-acto (r) knife to trim the center tape back a little at the “spear point.”
Then I sprayed two light coats of clearcoat to seal the tape, hoping to keep the white paint from bleeding underneath.
After waiting overnight for that to dry, I masked for overspray, cleaned everything with alcohol again and sprayed four thin coats of flat white enamel.
An hour later, I removed all the masking tape, pulling it at a sharp angle away from the paint.
I touched up a couple of places where the paint bled under the tape or cracked when I pulled it up.
After everything dried overnight again, I did a quick mask and hit the stripes with four thin coats of matte clear enamel, both to protect the white paint and to fill in the built-up edges where the tape was.
Hot seat
While working on the boat I’d learned that even with the gray paint those seats still got HOT in the Arizona sun, so I decided to install EVA foam cushions on the thwarts to reduce the potential for serious burns.
I made a template for the ends and cut cardboard pieces to fit each thwart. After rechecking all my templates every time there was a break in the action, I cut the foam to size, plus a little extra.
I’ve found it’s easier to take material off than to put it back on.
One last fitting and I was ready to install.
I didn’t trust the adhesive backing on the EVA foam to stick to my rough finish, so I covered the thwarts with spray adhesive then pressed the foam on, peeling off the backing paper as I went.
I used the leftovers to make foot pads to protect the paint on the side of the thwarts when I’m rowing.
A couple of the edges were rough where my blade got dull, so I beveled them with a 100 grit disc on the orbital sander. Otherwise the EVA foam went on well and looks good with these paint colors. Hopefully it’ll hold up over time.
Finishing up
I armored the transom so my trolling motor clamps wouldn’t scratch the new paint. I cut a strip of .025″ aluminum to size for the top, but just used an old license plate for the inside.
New pop-rivets for the Mirro Craft logos…
…which left me just the decals to do.
Before I sprayed the pinstripes I’d masked off where the registration numbers would go and built those areas up with several coats of gloss clearcoat enamel: I didn’t think the numbers would stick well to the rough hull otherwise.
You’ll be shocked to learn that I grew impatient while spraying. My coats got heavier as I went along and I ended up with some runs in the clearcoat.
“Hopefully,” I thought, “the numbers will hide those…”
The surfaces were prepared, I had all of the decals on hand, I’d watched numerous YouTube videos on the subject, so now it was up to me.
I gathered my courage and set about it.
First you tape the top edge of the decal to the surface so it acts like a hinge.
Next, lift the decal and peel off the paper backing.
Then flip it back down, make sure everything is still straight, and start squeegeeing your decal onto the hull.
Carefully peel off the transfer paper, leaving the decal in place. If the decal starts to come up with the transfer paper, burnish it back down with the squeegee and try again.
After I got them all on, I slit a few air bubbles with an X-acto knife then applied 3M Edge Sealer with a disposable brush to make sure the decals wouldn’t lift off the hull.
I consulted a 1976 Mirro Craft catalog (thanks, Mirro Craft customer service!) to get the capacity, loading numbers, etc., for my model number.
This replica USCG-style capacity plate arrived in the mail shortly afterwards and I installed it where the (missing) original belonged.
After one last inspection, I took the boat to the lake.
No leaks!
Project complete.