The Changing of a Hanging Locker

All of us have boats with storage compartments wedged into any void space in the design. Not all of these spaces provided by the designer are useful to our particular needs. Dana on s/v Rubigale, tackles this issue head-on...

Empty Locker Before

I was frustrated with the inability to store much of anything in the two hanging lockers that I had, and the lack of storage in general on the boat.  The shape of a hanging locker doesn’t lend itself to any item of clothing I can think of other than perhaps a miniskirt or skinny jeans, and I doubt that is what most people want to store in them.  I decided to convert the locker in my V-berth to shelves instead and see if I could recover some of that space.

Supports Installed

The first challenge was that with the curvature of the hull, nothing looked straight.  I ended up measuring down from the top and then using a level to draw lines on the walls where the shelf supports would go.  Never would I have thought that those lines were straight due to the visual tricks of the curvature and I had to trust the level.  Each of those lines were measured for the supports which were cut 1” short of the back wall and angled at 45 degrees due to the slant of the wall.  These were predrilled with a small countersink.  Once this was done they were coated in polyurethane and screwed onto the side walls where the marks had been made and the holes filled with wood filler.

Logan Helps With Patterns

The second challenge was that the back wall is the hull of the boat and curved not only top to bottom, but from forward to aft.  After starting, I discovered that one of my two “straight” walls was not straight.  Not being a geometry genius, I had to come up with something that would allow me to cut shelves with as few tries as possible.  I took a piece of scrap trim and drilled a hole the size of a pencil at one end. I used a thin piece of balsa wood about 4 inches wide as a temporary shelf, put brown wrapping paper over it and placed it on the supports. I then used my pencil “protractor” to trace the hull shape onto the paper.

Once I had the side measurements and the shape of the back, I cut the shelves. I left a one inch gap at the back for air flow. I used 1/2’ plywood for the shelves – anything thinner wasn’t going to be strong enough and thicker just took up room I could use for storage.

Cut Shelves With Rail

After a few coats of polyurethane, a small fiddle-rail, stained to match the outside of the locker was attached to the end with small brads.  The shelves sit on the supports unattached. The fit is snug enough that there’s no movement, but they can still be easily removed.  The fiddle-rail keeps containers from sliding into the door when the boat heels.

Finished Shelves

A relatively large amount of storage was gained by changing a traditional hanging locker to shelving.  This solution works well for me since I don’t really have clothes that need to be hanged.  I plan to convert the only other hanging locker as well, but will use L brackets instead of wood supports to save some steps and time.

Starting A Boat With A Paperclip

This isn't a project per se... well actually it is, but the most important part of this post is the successful trouble shooting of a problem. And yes, it does invoke MacGyver-ism. Read along with Dana on s/v Rubigale, as she deals with a motor that suddenly refuses to start...

About a month after buying Rubigale, and with a boat full of crew, we were ready to leave the fuel dock after a day of sailing. After pumping out I went to start the engine, turned the key, and nothing. Not even a click. I knew nothing about engines-zero, zip. I could find the alternator and the dipstick. My knowledge of cars surpassed that of boats only because I knew where to put in windsheild wiper fluid.   I didn’t know how I was going to get back to my slip and had a half dozen people that needed to go home. My boat mentor J had his own boat full of crew and couldn’t help at the moment. Fortunately, T lives aboard a few docks away, and after I fished out a mystery set of wires with clips that I had found in the bowels of weird boat storage (had this happened before?), he jumpstarted the boat by connecting the battery to the start switch.

Success!

I thought the crew would disappear as soon as we were back to the slip, but J and T started troubleshooting the starter and half of the people stayed, rapt with the process. I didn’t understand much of what I was hearing, but I was mesmerized by the problem solving. I photographed where to connect the wife to the starter just in case. Final diagnosis, probably a bad starter switch because there were loose connections and a little corrosion. J showed up with a new starter the next day and showed me how to put it in. It was much easier than I had expected and I photographed that as well. As a bonus, he connected a new engine hour meter to the  switch so I could keep track of hours since the previous meter had died at just under 4000 hours at some unknown point in the past. Everything seemed to work great and I put it away in my mind as a solved issue.

Shiny New Starter

Engine Hour Meter

A few months later I took Chilly and her friend on a day sail to Kingston to have lunch at one of our favorite pubs. When we returned to the boat, I turned the key, and again, nothing. Fortunately for them the marina was next to a ferry dock so I sent them on their way home. Fortunately for me, J hopped the same ferry in the opposite direction to find out what was wrong with the starter switch he just installed.  I tried not to think about the fact that I was going to be doing my very first solo sail the following morning out of necessity.

We checked the wire (happily labeled starter) from the battery to the starter switch – 12V. There was also current coming out of the starter switch wire which we traced to a bundle that took a dive under the sole and was lost to view. Next we went to the starter solenoid and again found the white wire which here had zero voltage. The wire which powered the solenoid had 12v. What I learned was that meant something was between the starter and the solenoid that was bad, but there was a lot of mystery territory in between.

Tracing that particular white wire was a bit more difficult because it disapppeared into a Chinese fingertrap holding a bundle of wires together. J thought perhaps there was a bad fuse or a loose connection. After an hour and a half of carefully slicing the webbing, and avoiding the wires, we hadn’t gotten very far.

Bundled Wires

Frustrated and tired, we took a break, and by a stroke of luck saw another white wire lower on the aft portion of the engine. Actually, there were two white wires terminating on separate screws. Based on the multimeter readings, one had current, one didn’t. Fortunately, J recognized this was a neutral switch, and suspected it was going bad. I had chartered at least two dozen charter boats but had never encountered a neutral switch. The current was getting to the neutral switch, but it wasn’t getting from the neutral switch to the solenoid, so the starter thought the boat wasn’t in neutral. J bridged the two screws with a screwdriver and Shazam! with a spark, she started!

Faulty Neutral Switch

There were plans to bypass this, but the problem didn’t recur so other projects took precedence. Didn’t recur that is, until a year later, just minutes before the start of the Leukemia Cup Regatta. We had done really well fundraising, had a blast decorating ourselves and the boat, and were sipping champagne from pink flamingo straws while preparing for a no-wind beer can race. I turned the key, and yet again, nothing, and my heart sank. Why did this always happen away from my dock? I jiggled the gear lever, nothing. I jiggled the wires at the neutral switch, nothing. I phoned J-these 5 ladies in grass skirts (one his wife) and flowers in their hair needed to get out there on the course ASAP and celebrate our hard won victory.

I went through what I tried already with J, and he told me to find something to bridge the two screws. I found a paperclip and put it on the two screws while Chilly turned the key. There was something about having my face next to a 50HP Perkins when it roars to life while holding a sparking paperclip in my hand that made me scream like a little girl. I yelled over the engine noise and cheers to L, “I LOVE your husband!” With a big smile she yelled back, “me too!” J was laughing over the speaker phone. We were off the dock in a hot second, and although DFL as usual, we had a great time being “spirited” and tossing candy packets that L had made with a tag saying “Kick Leukemia’s Ass! Team Rubigale”.

As usual, I procrastinated  again because the problem stopped happening. Then two months later, and also away from home it happened again. Remembering the big spark led me to be a little timid with the paperclip so I decided to tape it onto the end of the wooden dowel I found nearby, the other end of which held a pirate flag. My hastily created invention lent me more bravery and the engine started as soon as M turned the key.

Quick Fix Switch Bypass

My habit for procrastination had to stop here because I was leaving for an extended trip alone to Canada the following weekend.  Based on J’s instructions I moved both wire terminals to one screw and of course dropped the other into the bilge. Fortunately I had forseen this problem and placed a cloth underneath the area I was working on so the screw was easily retrieved. I was feeling quite proud of myself for this tiny little project, until I turned the key and heard a thunk and then silence.  I put the wire terminals back onto their original screws but the engine still would not start.

First Attempt to Bypass

J came by the following day with Waterproof Heat Shrink Butt Connectors and made the two wires into one. No big surprise, but the engine started with the first turn of the key. A quick online search of neutral switches on boats leads to a large number of results of “why won’t my boat start?”.  Apparently this is a rather common problem and one I really hope I’m finished with. I learned a good deal about my engine as well as a little on troubleshooting wiring. I am very grateful to have patient friends helping me with the process along the way.

The Hopefully Permanent Fix

Hole In The Boat, V. 2.0. Port Light Rebedding

'Tis the season.  At least here in the PNW:  rain, rain, and more rain.  And over on s/v Rubigale, Dana has found a solution to a problem we have all had at one time or another... a leaking port:

“I’m so happy to have found a leak on my boat!” she says with a big smile. The expressions on others’ faces are astounded, confused, or horrified.

“OK, how about I finally LOCATED a leak on my boat!” The response is definitely more congratulatory, occasionally tinged with a little sadness or jealousy.  Rubigale’s starboard side has been plagued with leaks since I bought her in the summer of 2014.

Once the torrential downpours of the Seattle fall appeared, drips ran down the overhang in the salon and puddled on the shelf. One of the three screws that holds in my barometer would cry every time it rained. I started finding things in the starboard aft berth wet, requiring everything to live in a plastic bin.

I thought I had it solved when I replaced one of the larger windows in the salon after I spotted dampness at the corner, and although the leaking seemed to have lessened, it was definitely still there. I tried caulking the toe rail and honestly most anything that looked caulk-able. I had the rigging tuned, and the shroud plates were rebedded in the process.

Still, the insides of cabinets mildewed and were regularly vinegared and bleached. Every time it rained, a pile of boat rags came out to soak the puddles, and on a particularly hard pour, a few pots came out as well. The bilge pump would come on. The dehumidifier got a workout. The headliner remained mysteriously dry.

There was old water staining around the aft-most starboard port light, but all six of them were brand new when I purchased the boat and I assumed that the new ones were the fix for that problem. I began to blame the jib track and the bow hardware, and started to wrap my mind around how to do all of these things, or what it would cost to hire someone to do it.

Everyone knows it rains a lot in Seattle, but it is typically a persistent mist rather than the torrential downpours I remember in Mississippi. Recently, Seattle experienced one of those deluges and I caught the leak from the port light red-handed! I had already rebedded one window, and this was so much smaller and seemed easier. You can probably see where this is going.

Preparing to Wrestle

This Came off Much Too Easily

Since it was a different type of window, I watched a YouTube video on the process and felt I was ready to go. I unscrewed the inner portion of the port light with it’s spigot and removed it easily. I had expected it to be much more difficult because some veneer is torn away from a couple of the ones in the V-berth, suggesting it was going to be a bear. With the larger window, there had been screws attaching the inside frame to the outside frame to create compression for the sealant. None of that was here. The inside was screwed to the wood and the spigot extended to the outside of the fiberglass where a trim piece was simply adhered with some sort of sealant which was pressed into the gap. The trim piece was also easily (too easily) removed and staining on the underside and on the fiberglass showed where the leak was happening.

Staining Where Water Intrusion Was Occurring

Area Where the Leak Was Damaging the Wood

I’m fortunate to have solid fiberglass, so there was no soggy core. There is a small gap between the fiberglass and the wood walls which was where most of the water had been going. The side of the wood facing the fiberglass was soggy and spongy in the area of the leak. The uncharacteristic 90 degree weather helped it dry out over a day with the assistance of a fan. Meanwhile, I started looking for answers. Why didn’t the screws connect the inside to the outside? How could you achieve a seal without the compression?

It was time to phone a friend. John, who had helped me replace the larger window, came over and looked at it, and agreed that it just didn’t seem correct. We made a field trip to the marine store and described the problem and brought the port light. After tossing around some ideas, a solution was proffered to cut a larger hole in the wood so that the inside section of the window would be directly against the fiberglass! To say I was skeptical, and a little bit horrified was an understatement. I said I’d think about it and picked up the type of sealant that was recommended for plastic.

Through-bolting the Port Light

Sealant Used

It was time for a glass of wine and more research. It’s amazing what you can discover when you read the instructions. There were very clear directions (with pictures) on how to through bolt the window for a solid wall as well as a multi-layered wall like mine. There is 1/4” of fiberglass, 1/4” of space, then 1/4” of veneered plywood on the inside.

The solution was to fill the gap as much as possible with closed cell spray foam to provide some structure for the gap under compression. I dreaded this part because I have had a few experiences with this stuff in old houses that were pretty messy. I made a part list of screws, barrel nuts, mineral spirits and the foam and went shopping.

Closed Cell Foam

Closed Cell Foam in the Gap

The following day the wood seemed dry and I filled the gap with the spray foam. Every time I revisited the opening, more foam had expanded out and had to be cut away, but by the next morning it seemed pretty solid and ready to go. The wood felt dry. Now it was time to drill holes in my boat which scares the living daylights out of me, so I again phoned a friend.

Trim Piece as Template

That Side Hole was a PAIN

Following the recommendations on the company website, we drilled holes through the trim piece and the fiberglass to match those in the wood where the spigot was attached. Due to the placement of one of the shrouds, lining up one of the holes was next to impossible which was remedied by making a slightly bigger hole (giving me slightly more anxiety). The edges of the holes and the main opening were chamfered so they could accommodate more sealant. The product recommended to stick to both plastic and fiberglass was Sudbury Elastomeric Marine Sealant.

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Installation Complete!

Once the fiberglass dust was cleaned up and a dry fit done, it was a fairly simple job with two people to get it sealed and the bolts threaded into the barrel head nuts on the inside. I used plenty of sealant, resigning myself to a big clean up, but erring on the side of too much.

I’m very happy to report that after a couple of pretty hard rains, the window, the barometer and the shelf remain dry! There’s still the leak somewhere behind the oven, and I still have 5 more port lights to rebed, but for now, Rubi is drier than she has been in the last two years.

Update August 30, 2016- I am deliriously happy to say that after two crossings of the Strait of Georgia, the starboard side is DRY!

DIY Drama - Big Hole in the Boat With a Storm Coming

A while back, Dana aboard s/v Rubigale (good news - s/v NoName is now s/v Rubigale!) had to deal with a problem while looking a storm in the teeth...

Being a boat owner without unlimited funds usually means learning to do many of the repairs yourself. As a brand new boat owner with no experience in this area, I have been chipping away at tackling things I have never done before. I started with my very first oil change, and with instructions, a hand pump and 2 hours, I managed it without incident. A few small woodworking projects  and installing blinds ensued, but nothing very exciting.

Weepy Barometer with Old Water Staining

Since our first big rain, several months after I bought the boat, I have known there were leaks on the starboard side. I usually found them coming from the headliner above the shelf behind the settee.  Three stubborn dribbles continued to occur with heavy rain, or water over the bow. Once I even saw water dripping from the screw hole in the barometer which is mounted above the other leaks, making me realize my problem was higher up.  I naively applied Captain Tolley’s Creeping Crack Cure to everything I thought suspicious. I re-caulked the toe rail with no effect. I had the mast boot replaced, which stopped the dripping into the head, but the starboard leaks remained. The base plates on the shrouds were re-bedded when the rigging was tuned and I hoped for the best. Just in case, I re-bedded the Charlie Noble, having seen water from there in a windy rainstorm. A scorching dry summer in Seattle didn’t allow me to test the changes for some time.

In early August we finally had some rain. Not the typical plant mister rain, but real rain. The three little rivers on starboard showed up on queue. The barometer cried. The chimney was dry, but it wasn’t a windy day. BUT! a new clue appeared. Drops of water came from one of the screws of the forward starboard aluminum window frame. BINGO!

Corrosion from the Leak

I had never re-bedded a window before, and I didn’t have the slightest idea what the internal anatomy of a window frame looked like. However, I had a friend that had just done this project on his boat and he emailed me detailed instructions. I bought what I was told was needed, and he even stopped by to make sure it was the same type of frame and prodded me to take the inner frame off to get a better idea.

Gap in the Sealant

Not only did it become more clear how the windows were mounted, and that this should be a doable project for me, but it was very clear there was daylight coming through the forward edge of the caulking and it was an obvious leak source.  It was also obvious that whoever had cut the hole for the window did not have the steadiest of hands. The cuts were undulating and erratic, and at one point the inner frame barely covered the cut.

Slow Process of Prying the Window Loose

My first job was cutting through the bedding compound from the inside, then going outside and trying to lightly pry the frame from the compound and the boat, millimeters at a time with two flathead screwdrivers. The top and forward edge (leaky side) came loose easily. The aft and bottom took forever. I was starting to sense the frame coming out as I could hear the bedding letting go slowly. I had a vision of a small victory dance on the dock with the window in hand.

CRACK!

Then I heard another sound.  CRACK might be the sound of victory on some circles (lumberjacks, chiropractors, gladiators), but it was not a good sound for me.  Yes, I cracked the glass at the one area that the wood pinched the frame inside. I got the frame out, cleaned it up, cleaned the old compound off the boat, and taped plastic inside and out. It was a weekend, and apparently no glass places were open. The drama was starting, because I was leaving (with the boat) for over a month in 15 days (10 business days), and most glass companies had shorter workdays than I did, so getting the glass there and back would be a challenge. I did research, left messages, called friends, went on rushed lunchtime field trips, only to be told “at least two weeks”.

I was starting to panic, but with some footwork help from my friend John, a place was found that could do the job based on the photos I texted him of the glass and the frame. It happened to be one of the places I called Saturday, but hadn’t yet returned my call. They gave an estimate based on the photos and size, and quoted a twenty four hour turn around. I drove the frame there on Wednesday (my day off), but wasn’t sure how I was going to get it back again in time since they were closed on weekends.  John agreed to take possession on Thursday, and the plan was to install Saturday. Then we got the forecast.

Summer Storm

The storm was coming early Saturday, and it looked ugly. Rain and 25-35 knots of wind. It was great news for our wildfires, but bad news for a boat with a big old hole. I didn’t think the plastic on the inside and the shower curtain taped on the outside were going to make the grade. I was worried. John came through again and he and Lisa brought the new window around the time I finished work.

The job went faster with three pairs of hands. I grinded a bit off the areas that pinched and re-cleaned the surface. The window was dry fitted and the inside from secured lightly while the outside surface was taped off. The window came back out and the portion of the frame that fits against the hull was given a healthy bead of 3M 4000 UV. As John fitted the frame back in, I started re-attaching the screws on the inside frame loosely until they were all in, then tightening them all a little at a time like putting a tire back on. Finally after the screws were all tight, we got to work scraping off the excess sealant and cleaning any mess with denatured alcohol. Once that was finished, the tape came off, and the job was done.

Taping to Avoid a Mess

Applying the Sealant

Putting the Frame Together

At about 5 am the following morning, what was described as the strongest summer storm in Northwest history hit. Gusts of 40-50 mph were recorded.  It is being called a mid-latitude cyclone. Read more.

I awoke at 8am to a text…”how’s the window?”  Honestly I was afraid to find out, but the bilge pump hadn’t come on so I figured it couldn’t be too bad.  I crawled from the V-berth and inspected the window frame-dry. The three rivers that ran down the wall beneath it-dry. The barometer-weeping like a willow. Oh well, three out of four is pretty good in my opinion. The barometer leak will wait for another day. I have a few leads and a lot of work, but at least I didn’t have a huge hole in my boat during the biggest summer storm in Northwest history!

There’s a Big Hole in my Boat!

Photo Credits: Lisa Mize – Sunrise Photography by Lisa

From Curtains to Blinds - A More Streamlined, Private Option

Please welcome new contributor Dana who lives aboard her Challenger 32, s/v NoName - yes, that's right! Her boat has not yet been named, and she has blogged about that great dilemma as well.  But for her first appearance here, Dana deals with replacement of the old curtains that came with her boat:

Old Curtains and Tracks

When I first viewed my boat-to-be, I was impressed with the amount of light in the cabin. For a monohull, and especially an old one, it seemed airy and bright and was one of the things that made me fall in love with her.   Although I scrutinized the details of the inside of the cabinets, lazarettes, bilge, and oven, the curtains escaped my attention since I considered them a frivolous, easy change that could be ignored in the short term.

Old Curtain Track Above Port Light

Once I moved aboard, I saw the situation more clearly.  The curtains were thread-bare and stained like something found on a mummy.  Above the galley a section of fabric was held together with masking tape. The tracks were brown plastic strips held onto the walls with rusted screws. The curtains only slid on their tracks with the utmost effort and it quickly became irritating to open them each morning and close them at night.  There was no real privacy onboard through the thin, gauzy barrier, and something needed to change.

I researched a few different options for tracks for the windows, but they all looked similar to what I had, and I hated the look when the curtains were open. I ruled out the one-way vinyl window film because I felt that I still wouldn’t feel I had my privacy, didn’t want to lose any of the sunlight during the day, and I didn’t want my neighbors to think I was pimping out with mirrored windows.

Eventually, I settled on the idea of blinds.  I searched online for days comparing options and prices and decided that the cordless cellular blinds were the way I wanted to go. Options include light filtering vs. blackout blinds, single or double cell,  top down/bottom up, and cordless with a half dozen or more color options.  Even If I didn’t live with a cat whose favorite game is to bat around a rope, I felt cordless was more desirable, and due to the size of the head rail system, I stayed with single cell (outside mount – inside mount is for homes with deep window wells). I chose a light filtering blind in a cream color that matched my headliner. I found the Super Value Cordless Single Cellular shades from Blindster.com were on sale and a good deal.  With 5 blinds of varying customs sizes from 46″ x 14″ to 28″ x 14″, my total, with shipping was $228. That was about $50 for the bigger windows and $40 for the smaller window.   I also purchased stainless steel screws for another $20 because the included screws weren’t for the marine environment.

While I waited for my order, I started the process of the removal of the current system.  The tiny screws holding the existing plastic track in place were rusted flat heads.  After an hour or so of unsuccessful attempts with my smallest screwdriver to unscrew them, I resorted to using a small cat’s paw tool which I have had since my old house restoration days, with a queasy feeling in my stomach.   It seemed barbaric in the situation, and I occasionally had to use a hammer with the claw to get the old rusted screw out.   The wood around the rusted screws was stained, and so was the wall under the tracks.  I lightly sanded the thin mahogany veneer where the tracks were, cleaned the area, applied Orange Oil and hoped for the best. I filled in the holes with color matched wood filler, but the perceptive eye will always pick out the discoloration of the old track. To do more was going to be a major project, and I was one month in to ownership and not willing to strip/sand/bleach the walls just yet.

Straight and Level are Different

Once the blinds arrived, I ran into another dilemma.  As with an old house, level and straight aren’t always the same thing.  Do you hang them level with the window or the boat?  I am a symmetry person, so this was a big deal for me, and an inconsistent headliner put in before my purchase made it harder. I settled with using a standard measurement above the top of the windows despite what the ceiling was doing.  The head rail was larger than I had envisioned and I had a moment of panic because of the ‘no refund on special order’ policy.  As I tentively tried to hang the first, and largest of the shades, I realized that the distance between the top of the window frame and ceiling were perilously close, and in some cases, just not going to happen.  The headliner braces weren’t put in by a person with a tendency for detail, symmetry, or consistency.  I found a few open, pre-drilled holes, usually near the hull, with nothing in them, just sagging into the field of my new shades, and finished screwing them in to gain just enough room for the head rail. If nothing else, I had improved the ceiling.

Blinds with Clean Modern Privacy

I have installed blinds, including top-down/bottom-up blinds before, and I can only say that people on land with relatively vertical walls have an easy job.  After a few hours of contortions and cursing, the brackets were in place and the blinds snapped in.  This was the pivotal moment.  The blinds came down nicely, and all seem to fit the ordered dimensions.  A quick trek around the outside of the boat with the lights off showed that they proved complete privacy.  From the inside, the looked modern, with clean  modern, with clean lines, but also blended in well with the headline color.  But the best view was to have them opened wide in the morning, where almost all of the available window space let light in, reflecting off the light colored headliner, and making a grey Seattle day a little more cheerful.

Fully Opened Blinds

The best part was that I could do it in 2-3 seconds instead of the time it took to try and drag the curtain slugs through their tracks.

Quick Solution to Bottom Attachment. Notice the Old, Discolored Track with Filled-in Holes.

The next hurdle was to devise a way to attach the bottoms so that they wouldn’t swing on the sloping walls, but were easy to undo each day to let the light in.  The provided holders were of a more permanent variety meant for blinds installed on doors. This took several days and even more consultations with friends for brainstorming. The eventual solution, although not glamorous, was to run a cord through the bottom rail ( the hold for the bottom mount was already there), with a loop on each end attached to tiny cup hooks placed in an old track hole whenever possible. The result is an easy way to attach and unattach the bottom of the blinds. I prefer them up when sailing/motoring so that if I need to run below I have the advantage of an mostly unobstructed view outside, and so I don’t have to fasten them to keep them from swinging.  I have friends that used the same basic blinds, but used magnets on the bottom rail of the blinds and a magnetic strip to keep them anchored down.  From what they’ve said – they feel it was a great improvement over the old blinds and they used the same company.

Although I can still see the ghost of the old tracks, the blinds look streamlined and tidy. They provide complete privacy at night, and during the day allow 95% of the available window space to let sunlight come in, an invaluable commodity in Seattle during the winter.