To see as much of the world as we can,
Using the smallest carbon footprint we can,
Spending the least amount of money we can,
Making as many friends we can.

Team Red Cruising

Hatchboards, Epifanes, and Brightwork

I have no clue about Epifanes. Really. Zilch.

But I have a can. And some "brush thinner." And some foam brushes.

I've got sandpaper in 60, 80, 100, 150, and 220 grit. And a sanding block that grips a ¼ sheet of sand paper nicely.

And I've got woodwork that's hasn't seen anything but wind and rain and bright sunshine for at least five years.


I'm going to learn.

The hard way.

By sanding and slathering on Epifanes. I can't make it any worse, right? I can just keep sanding and coating.

We're not coating everything. The toe rails and eyebrow trim is going to say natural. Some teak oil once in a while is all it needs. Some ammonia once a year to clean it. The scrubbing with a brush is perhaps more important than the chemical used.


But. The hatches are exposed to the sun and rain, and … well … it's nice to have a well-finished hatch.

So. I'm sanding off the old finish. With all of its nicks and scrapes and stains.

And I'll paint on the expected eight coats of Epifaines.

There's a magic arc to this. The first three or four coats are thinned. The first coat is only 50% Epifanes. The next is 7%. Then 90%. The idea is for the chemical to soak into the wood. The next three to five coats are painted straight on with no (or minimal) thinner. Since this hatch board only needs about 75 ml, it's hard to justify splashing in a teaspoon of thinner. It seems like it will barely have any effect.

Behind me is a decorative cover that has six or so coats. It is staring to look really crazy glossy. Very nautical and shiny. I guess that's why they call it brightwork.

It's going well enough that CA suggests we take the winches off and do the sides of the cockpit. It would look spectacular. But. Sanding. And eight layers.