The ruddy rudder saga (Crete)

 

5th Nov 2020 (Crete)

After struggling through the back end of the summer season trying to turn an ever stiffening helm on our 1995 SO451 - and developing arm muscles like Popeye in the process (nice for me, not so for Chez), we finally decided that enough was enough, and I really should have a look at those dreaded rudder bearings...

There’s a lot written online about the less than perfect design, the crosspiece with a propensity to rust and the swelling/shrinking of various bearing materials. So instead of covering old ground, I thought I’d share the fun and games I’ve had during the repair.

I’d done a fair bit of research before getting started. I’d trawled numerous online forum posts, read the Jeanneau tech bulletins and reached out to;

• Jeanneau service (who’s not overly helpful reply was from a bot telling me to ‘contact a dealer’ in French and English)

• The previous owner (who’d braved the same process in 2012)

• A helpful Danish couple who’d posted their repair on YouTube.

• One of my fellow marina neighbours 

• ....and Peter, a previous occupant of this marina who, although I barely knew him, really couldn’t have been more helpful.

With all this background knowledge, I opted to drop the rudder whilst still in the water. There were a couple of reasons: 

1: it’s possible and has been done by others, and 2: I’m a tight arse and don’t want to pay for a lift out if I don’t have to.

First job was for me to pop in the water and tie enough rope (yes... I called it rope!) around the rudder to ensure that when I undo the locking pin holding the shaft the rudder doesn’t drop and sink, or more likely float away

Surprisingly, for late October, the water wasn’t too cold, and that job was soon done - the rudder resembling a poorly darned sock once I’d finished.

I then cleaned out the small locker that will be my home for the duration of this task. Having packed all that stuff away in the starboard guest cabin (the shed), I contorted my lanky 6ft2 frame into the tight cavity below. Feeling like a magicians assistant, squashed into a box and about to be sliced in half, I slowly wiggled my way into a position that, while not exactly comfortable, at least didn’t hurt everywhere at once. 

I then worked out that the tools I had cleverly left within arms reach of the locker’s entrance weren’t right for the job. So slowly unfolded myself, banging my head on the way out (the first of many times), picked up the right tools and curled back in. 

First I disconnected the autopilot - fairly easy. Removed the steering cables and quadrant, discovering along the way that the quadrant had been mounted upside down, and also had a decent sized crack in the aluminium - great start!

Once that was out of the way, with some trepidation I removed the locking pin from the shaft, having first supported the rudder's weight from above with a line tied through an O ring screwed into the shaft end. 

I slowly eased the pin out, expecting at any moment a massive judder and the whole rudder and shaft to whoosh downwards into the water.... it didn’t move.

OK - that’s not such a bad thing, I once again unfolded myself and went onto the dock where I’d left two rope ends connected to the mess of rope tied around the rudder. Pulling one at a time, and with some effort, I was able to work the rudder back and forth to slowly ease it out of the bearings.

This one man tug of war had no effect, the rudder moved to and fro as it should (but stiffly), but not down as I’d wanted. 

OK that’s strange, but not really unexpected, the steering had got very stiff, and the possibly swollen bearings are probably holding the shaft in place. 

Still believing that moving the rudder back and forth, and using its considerable weight, with a little help from gravity could make it come down, I used the manual rudder pole to swing the rudder. 

Looking like a demented gondola driver, I worked the long manual rudder pole back and forth long enough to draw in an audience of my neighbours from the pontoon. Usually, I’d prefer to work without onlookers, but it’s a hot day, and I pause each time a new person appears to get my breath back and explain to them what’s going on. (see pic)

Still thinking my theory was sound, I persisted with the manual rudder pole for a good couple of hours

Sadly, this gondola driving also had no effect; the shaft didn’t drop.

The audience, probably realizing that no Cornettos were to be handed out today, dwindled down until there were only two left. They both seemed to be avoiding their own boats and the associated list of jobs that inevitably accumulate while sailing. They both repeatedly told me that olive oil is what I need. 

I have an alternate view... what I need is a big hammer. I select the largest club hammer the pontoon can offer (my own hammer being nothing more than a small toffee hammer in comparison... that said, it worked for the guy in The Shawshank Redemption)

Placing a block of wood over the top end of the shaft, I began gently tapping, then rapidly moving onto hitting, and soon absolutely whacking the crap out of it... and yes, you guessed it, it didn’t move.

The next plan, suggested by a knowledgeable neighbour (the hammer’s owner) was to create a type of puller - like the ones used to remove impellers or bearings. 

Although I say it myself, I created a pretty good looking puller, a piece of steel resting horizontally across the top of the shaft, with two threaded rods extending down to the bottom of the crossbeam and bolted in place underneath it. 

All I need to do now is to tighten the nuts on the threaded rods and the shaft should be pushed out of the beam. 

That was the theory...

The first thing to give was the piece of steel I’d used at the top - it began bending as I tightened. Not an issue, the theory is still good, I just need a thicker piece of steel. I found a suitable piece, drilled holes for the threaded rods and connected it up again. 

I should add that by now, I’m three days in, and I’d guess I’ve been in and out of the hole 50 to 60 times, and banged my head upwards of 10 of those. 

With the new re-enforced steel crosspiece, I again began tightening the nuts to draw the shaft out. This time the crosspiece held firm.....but instead of the shaft moving, the steel of the girder started bending at the bottom where I’d bolted the rods in. 

Seriously!? That bearing is tight!

Did a bit more hammering at this stage to let off some steam, only to be asked - in a really polite nice way - to ‘keep it down’ by a young German couple with a baby two boats down. The baby having gone to sleep (an unusual occurrence apparently) they didn’t want him woken up by my battering. 

Called it a day there, and followed the babies example and put my head down for a siesta.

Probably into day 4 now (time has lost all meaning there is only rudder), I get up, aching and bruised from the previous days exertions - I have a new plan.

I unbolt and remove the puller - (interestingly, as an aside, I’ve found that when I’m trying to undo or redo nuts that I can’t quite see (around the back of the shaft housing) if I close my eyes, it seems to concentrate the mind and I have an easier job visualizing it and lining it up or undoing it). Once the puller was out of the way, my plan is to drill a series of holes through the nylon bearing material to weaken it sufficiently to allow downward movement. The drill doesn’t fit from above, so I spend a good hour with my hands on my hips giving the whole job a very angry look, and thinking about the problem. I remember that the boat’s previous owner had left - among many other things - a 90 degree chuck, that effectively lets you drill round corners. Fitted that to my drill, and began happily burrowing into the plastic bearing material. I made some progress, but snapped three drill bits along the way.

Play was then once again halted by the Greek mandatory quite time (no power tools between 3:30 and 5:30, to allow for siesta), so I tidied up for the day, and took advantage of the local customs once again and got my head down.

Next morning, refreshed and raring to go again, I continued drilling out sections of the bearing, refitted the puller and once again began cranking nuts. 

After half an hour or so, there was a definite jolt.... surely not... ?

Yes the shaft had dropped somewhere between 1mm and 2mm!

It’s going to be a slow process, but that’s the first bit of decent downward movement I’ve seen all week. Now cheerfully whistling, I continue cranking away at the puller’s nuts and I am rewarded with a satisfying jolt every 5mins or so. 

It takes most of the day, but eventually the shaft is clear of the crossbeam  - and I am genuinely delighted. I know that’s far from the end if this saga, but that niggley little problem has been my main focus for the last few days, and it’s very satisfying indeed to get a win. 

After basking in my own glory for 5 minutes over a cup of tea, I start thinking about the lower bearing - and hoping it’s a little looser than the top one.

I setup my one man tug of war again on the dock and begin by pulling the rope one way - it now moves effortlessly, and does the same the other way.

This is good news, and bodes well for getting the whole thing out tomorrow morning. I secure the rudder for the night and take a well earned rest.

I need to go off on a little tangent now.. There was a nasty, quite powerful earthquake in Turkey last week. Since then, with all the aftershocks, we’ve had quite a lot of swell coming through the marina here in Agios Nikoloas. That, combined with the usual swell that our marina attracts, has been jerking the whole boat backwards and forwards as our lines to the dock tighten and loosen. This phenomenon had a surprising benefit the next morning:

The rudder, after being shook back and forth all night, is now hanging off the bottom of the boat by the rope I attached, and the crosspiece has been wiggled out onto the floor! 

Well that was a nice way to start the day! 

With Chez’s help (it’s too early to call in the neighbours), we lower and tie the rudder to the dock until I can get the required muscle men in place to lift it onto the pontoon. 

Once the neighbours do surface, three of us manhandle the rudder up onto the pontoon.

That’s the end of phase one!

To me there’s two more phases: 

• repair/replace the bearings

• Refit the rudder and quadrant etc.

I suspect I’ve just finished the easy part! 

....edit 1:

Managed to eventually find the part numbers of the required bearing and sleeve from a very helpful Jeanneau dealer from Holland. These I ordered and received a tracking number to watch my shipment whizz towards me.... well after one month stuck in Athens with ‘insufficient address details’ (...and me sending my address, phone number, my GPS location, and a map of the town with a big arrow showing where I live) it was eventually returned to sender in France.. Frustrating to say the least

It’s now been back there a week, and I’m waiting for the next tracking number to be provided. 

The Dutch guy (Michel at ‘GlobalNautique’) has been great - but sadly he’s only the intermediary between me and Jeanneau and has no direct comms with UPS, and isn’t allowed to provide me with direct access to his Jeanneau contact....

Fingers crossed for a better update next time round.

...edit 2

Well after the last update, I waited a few days for a new tracking number - received nothing, so began chasing up through my nice Dutch contact once again - after two emails, got the reply that Jeanneau’s parts store was closed from 23rd until 31st Dec for a stock take! Grrrrrr.

I’m writing this today (8th Jan 2021) having today received the bearing and rubber sleeve.

The bearing fits smoothly over the rudder shaft, and spins freely once on, but the rubber sleeve is completely the wrong size - so frustrating. 

As with the previous update edit:

‘Fingers crossed for a better update next time round.’

....edit 3

It’s now Jan 20th, it’s turned cold.. snow has appeared on the mountains surrounding At Nik in the last week, and our big check blanket now covers the bed. 

After numerous visits to Pandelis’ - the local metal workshop, today I finally secured a pair of bearings that perfectly fit into the crossbeam.

Hurrying home, I couldn’t wait to start rebuilding.

Once the crossbeam was bolted in, I had to jump into the shockingly cold water to re-insert the rudder into its hole. Chez pulled a rope tied to the end of the rudder shaft, as I, gasping as the cold water took my breathe away, wiggled the rudder into place. Delightfully - it slipped straight into the hole. 

After some rubber mallet persuasion, and a few dropped bolts, it’s now in place, tomorrow is refitting the steering cable and possibly re-calibrating the autopilot - we’ll see...

There is now light at the end of the tunnel!! 

Final edit!

It’s done! It’s all fitted, the steering wheels spin delightfully freely. 

I did end up having to mount the quadrant upside down again - the steering cables not quite aligning when it’s was mounted the right way up, and I was terrified that even the slightest chaff might eventually damage the cable enough to cause us grief at the most inopportune moment.