Boat Yards - Where Dreams Go to Die!
01-04-07
“Owning a boat is like standing under a cold shower tearing up £50 notes”
Haul-out time. Prevesa, Greece.
What They Don’t Tell You About Hauling Out Your Boat
There’s a moment, just before haul-out, when two very different cruisers appear. One stands back, sips something cold, and casually hands over the keys to the yard manager with a list of jobs. He then retreats to an air-conditioned Airbnb, or jets home to “recharge”, letting someone else get on with the business of scraping off unpleasant marine life from the hull.
The other rolls up his sleeves, pulls on last season’s oil-stained overalls, and prepares for battle, spending the next few weeks inhaling paint dust and swearing loudly at inanimate objects in the engine bay.
Roll up your sleeves, pull on last season’s oil-stained overalls, and prepare for battle. Almerimar, Spain.
Welcome to the Jungle
Let’s be honest. Haul-out is where all the nonsense about freedom and sunsets and “living the dream” comes to die. This is not sailing. This is work. Dirty, hot, frustrating work. You will bleed. You will bruise. You will curse the day you ever bought that bloody boat-shaped hole in your finances.
And yet, if you care about your boat, it has to be done. It will help preserve the value of your boat and minimise nasty surprises further down the line. That bit of rust you ignored in the marina? Now it’s a gaping hole. That “minor” drip from the water pump? It’s now a saltwater geyser in the engine bay. The thing about boats is, they don’t sleep. Left alone, they quickly disassemble like a cheap tent in a hurricane.
You may walk into the yard as a mild-mannered sailor. But by the time you’re done, you’ll walk out a composite-sanding, oil-changing, hose-clamping ninja of the sea.
Haul-out is where all the nonsense about freedom and sunsets and “living the dream” comes to die. Lefkas, Greece.
Write It Down, Or Pay For It Twice
If you’re handing over the work to the yard crew, do yourself a favour: get everything in writing. And I don’t mean a vague conversation with a guy who says, “Yeah, we fix it good, captain.” I mean photos, emails, even scribbles on a pizza box (then keep that pizza box!).
Because when your two-day antifoul turns into a six-week rebuild, you’ll want proof that this wasn’t your brilliant idea. It won’t stop surprises, but it might preserve your sanity and reduce the attacks on your wallet to a manageable level.
I’ve seen osmosis so bad on a boat that water sprayed out of the hull like a citrus juicer the moment the grinder touched it. The boat looked fine. It was not fine. A lip seal replacement that uncovers galvanic corrosion on the prop shaft necessitating a complete rebuild. Always expect the unexpected.
A lip seal replacement that uncovered galvanic corrosion on the prop shaft necessitating a complete rebuild. Rebak, Malaysia.
Parts Will Break. They Will Also Be Nowhere
You’ll plan to change a hose. But to get to the hose, you’ll have to remove the water heater. To remove the heater, you’ll need to disconnect half the plumbing. And while doing that, you’ll shear off a 15-year-old plastic fitting that no longer exists in any known part of the universe.
Once, in the Maldives, we needed to replace a steering mechanism. It turned into a three-week multinational hunt across three continents and involved re-engineering parts in Sri Lanka, sourcing second-hand parts from Australia, and ordering new parts from France… and a helpful agent named Assad. Thanks Assad, you are a legend!
We needed to replace a steering mechanism. It turned into a three-week multinational hunt across three continents. Uligan, Maldives,
I neglected to replace a raw water pump during a haul out in Malaysia then needed to order a new one from the UK when it gave up in Egypt. It had to be physically escorted to our boat by a customs official, then mysteriously smuggled aboard under cover of darkness to avoid raising suspicions with the canal authorities. It was an excessively confusing, stressful and costly logistical nightmare that I could have avoided with better planning in the previous haul out.
I could go on, but needless to say, you need to prepare. Anticipate what parts you’ll need in advance, then accept it won’t be enough. Because the real haul-out isn’t what’s on your list, it’s the surprises waiting behind every panel.
I neglected to replace a raw water pump during a haul out in Malaysia which turned into a confusing, stressful and costly logistical nightmare later. Suez, Egypt
Do It Yourself Or Do It Again
Hiring local contractors through the marina often seems the sensible option. Leave it to the professionals, right? Wrong. You may end up with a local electrician who doubles up as an Uber driver by day and Instagram food influencer by night. Who then takes four days to do a one-day job because that’s his minimum contract time with the marina. I won't mention Shelter Bay Marina in Panama here because I wouldn’t want to name names or ruin reputations.
I've often paid for jobs twice. Once to get the job done, then again to fix the mess. YouTube exists for a reason. Forums are full of salty weirdos who’ve already done your job three times and argued about it in 14 threads. Choose YouTube. Choose forums. Choose life.
Yard Life Is... A Thing
Not all boatyards are created equal. Rebak Marina in Malaysia is paved, civilised, and you can use the resort pool, gym, showers, and sip a cold one at the beach bar at the end of the day. Granted, the yard monkeys are vicious (I got attacked by one), but the manager was like a friendly uncle who regularly arranged dinners, parties, and entertainment for the cruisers.
That said, we met a Yorkshire couple there who’d been working on their boat for five years. If you couldn't tell by the look of them, you could certainly tell by their colourful language.
Some people work on their boat for years. If you can't tell by the look of them, you can certainly tell by their colourful language. Rebak, Malaysia.
Then there's the post-apocalyptic nightmare of Tunisia. I watched a crane drop a boat. Not lower it awkwardly. Drop it. A project manager stole our paint, then massively overcharged for the jobs when we called him out. To be fair, it was Ramadan, so productivity was low and grouchiness was high. A pack of rabid dogs so terrifying and diseased (one of the little buggers actually bit me) that the army was called in to shoot them. But they put more holes in the boats than in the dogs. And no, by some miracle, I didn’t contract rabies. Thanks for asking.
I watched a crane drop a boat. Not lower it awkwardly. DROP IT. Port de Pêche, Monastir, Tunisia
In Spain, we got stuck mid-haul when COVID hit. It was one of the world’s harshest lockdowns, with regular police patrols and drones watching over us for seven weeks while we were trapped onboard. In a dirty yard. No toilets. No showers. No movement allowed. Just the heat, the flies, and the rising smell of our own hopelessness.
Eventually, we broke into the yard’s toilet block with the help of a sympathetic security guard while the kids ran counter-surveillance against police patrols with walkie-talkies. Talk about family bonding. We were finally busted while working (illegally) on the boat when the anchor accidentally fell off the bow, severing the water main and flooding the entire yard. Ah, good times.
When COVID hit we were locked down in a dirty yard for seven weeks with just the heat, the flies, and the rising smell of hopelessness for company. Almerimar, Spain.
In Curaçao, the boatyard was situated next to a slaughterhouse. Several times a week we’d wake up to the dawn chorus of pigs being slaughtered and a bug swarms so bad you could carve the air with a knife.
We met boat owners in New Zealand who hauled out for a quick paint job just before the COVID lockdown and couldn’t return for three years. By that time, the saltwater in the engine had eaten through their cooling system and destroyed the entire engine block. At the risk of repeating myself: expect the unexpected.
In Curaçao, the boatyard was situated next to a slaughterhouse - we’d wake up to the dawn chorus of pigs being slaughtered. Curaçao.
Plan, Then Plan for Your Plan to Implode
Boatyards: they’re noisy, they’re filthy, and they smell like a collision between a glue factory and a burnt toast convention. But if you rock up with a plan, you can shave weeks, if not months, off your stay.
Start with a proper list. Not the one scrawled on the back of a beer coaster. An actual list. Stockpile the essentials: wax, rags, cleaning gear, ziplocks, tools, more tools, paper towels, no MORE paper towels, and enough spare parts to build a second boat.
Stockpile the essentials. Brisbane, Australia
Run fresh water through everything that runs on fuel. Engine, generator, outboard and sterilise the water maker before haul-out. You’ll thank yourself when they start first time instead of screaming like a kettle full of marbles.
Sort your domestic planning, too. Empty the fridge if you’re losing shore power and wedge the door open. Nothing says “welcome back” like that leftover curry. Tape the loo shut unless you enjoy the social death of pumping out someone’s accidental deposit from six feet in the air. Ask me how I know.
Kids and Boat Yards
We’ve done many haul-outs, all with young kids. Don’t.
But if you must, plan ahead. Line up activities, shade, snacks, and a safe zone away from the boat. Boat yards are full of sharp things, ladders, chemicals, and cranky adults using power tools. Kids will be bored, dirty, and in the way. If you can arrange a haul out with another family boat, it will give them someone to play with and make a big difference to your sanity, productivity and their safety.
Boat yards are full of sharp things, ladders, chemicals, and cranky adults. Line up activities, shade, snacks, and a safe zone for kids away from the boat. Huku Hiva, French Polynesia
The To-Do List That Never Sleeps
Maintenance doesn’t start at the yard. It starts the second you splash in. Keep a rolling list. That tiny drip from the water pump? Ignore it now, and next passage it’ll be Old Faithful.
Order parts early. If your plan hinges on “overnight shipping”, prepare for a month of sunburnt swearing. We once booked “express” delivery for solar panels from Singapore to Thailand. They arrived a month later and that was only because we found someone to put pressure on customs officials.
Categorise your tasks:
Red – Haul-out only. Zincs, bottom paint, cutlass bearings, thru-hulls, prop work, rudder repacking. That sort of thing.
Green – Must-do before departure. VHF antennas, nav lights, rig repairs, fuel tank scrubs, battery swaps.
Black – Important, not urgent. Engine service, fibreglass patches, polishing stainless, filter changes.
Be clear: are you repairing, servicing, rebuilding, or replacing? These are not synonyms. They’re job descriptions, and your wallet will notice the difference.
Categorise your tasks and be clear: are you repairing, servicing, rebuilding, or replacing? Curaçao.
I could go on all day about boat yards and haul outs, but I think you probably get the picture by now. So here is a round up of top tips, based on S/V Mothership’s experience when hauling out around the world.
Pre-Haul-Out Checklist
Do your homework
Visit the yard, talk to cruisers, and research online. If the manager gives “used car dealer” vibes, run.Check parts availability
Consult your service manual, order parts early, and book professionals ahead to avoid delays.Stock up
Wax, polish, antifoul, sandpaper, masks, rags, tape. Bring more than you think you need.DIY or approved contractors?
Confirm if you can do your own work or must use yard-approved crews (often costly).Empty your pockets
Don’t get your wallet, keys, or phone stuck on the boat when it lifts.Double-check work orders
Be explicit about what should and shouldn’t be done. Assume nothing.Equipment policies
Check if DIY tools like sanders or vacuums are allowed; otherwise, rent from the yard.Accommodation
Confirm if you can live aboard or if you’ll need to book nearby lodging.Wide Open Throttle (WOT) test
Run the engine hard before haul-out. Note any issues for inspection.Book ahead
Confirm haul date and required paperwork (insurance, fees, permits).Let them move the boat
Yard crews usually handle this safely. Say yes.Ask about the backstay
Some lifts require removing it. Don’t wait till the last minute.Ask about the genoa
Remove the headsail to avoid damage from sudden gusts.Orientation
Check if the boat goes bow-in or bow-out. Yards don’t rotate boats.Photograph your boat in slings
Mark through-hulls, transducers to prevent damage.Clear the deck
Remove dinghies, kayaks, paddleboards. Hydraulic fluid sprays happen.Wash the hull
Clean hulls make damage easier to spot and earn crew respect.Pump the holding tank
Nobody wants your tank leaking in the yard.Fridge and freezer
Empty, clean, bleach, and leave doors open to prevent mould.Protect the interior
Use drop cloths or towels. Dirt will happen, but minimise it.Rudder removal
Notify the yard if you plan to drop the rudder; they may block it too tightly otherwise.Winterise the outboard
Flush, dry run, spray carb cleaner to avoid spring rebuilds.Check electrical power
Confirm voltage/frequency compatibility to avoid appliance damage.Check pods
Know hose and cable lengths; bring adapters for extra distance.Start early
Work mornings when it’s cooler, quieter, and less chaotic.Protect your lungs
Use a proper mask or respirator when sanding antifoul. Cloth masks won’t cut it.Get a scooter or bike
Hardware runs are daily. Make them easier and faster.Mark your tools
Don’t lend tools. Or accept some may never return.Reduce dirt ingress
Leave shoes in a basket near the ladder
Go Figure
Haul-out is where your relationship with your boat becomes real. It isn’t just boat maintenance. It’s boat reality therapy. You can plan every nut and bolt, but you’re still at the mercy of bad wiring, rusted bolts, and surprise invoices. But if you’ve done your prep, it doesn’t have to be a tragedy. It can be efficient. Productive. Almost satisfying in a deeply masochistic way.
Plan well, work smart. Bring humour. Bring patience. Bring more paper towels. Red Sea (not in a boat yard!)
Plan well, work smart. Bring humour. Bring patience. Bring more paper towels. Because at some point, you will find yourself, covered in bottom paint and arguing with a man named Abdul from Djibouti about why your prop shaft looks like it was forged in Mordor. And it is in that moment, soaked in solvent and swearing in multiple languages, that you will realise… This. Is. Cruising.
And strangely, you might even love it.
Some people do.
Go figure.
Next week we’ll be turning our attention to the galley.
If you want more straight-talking tales from life afloat, and information about boat yards, then you’ll love our upcoming book. We're inviting early readers to join the pre-launch crew and get behind-the-scenes access as we wrestle it into shape. It’s honest, unfiltered, and occasionally useful. Sign up here to get involved, give feedback, and be part of something that’ll either be a bestseller or a brilliant cautionary tale.
