Stuart, Florida

photo #1: Stuart mooring field
photo #2: bridge over the St. Lucie River
photo #3: looking toward the marina office from Raven's stern

[Hilde’s log]

Another beautiful day in Florida. After a dawn of soft grey air and overcast skies the day has opened up to bright blue skies and brilliant sunshine. David has gone ashore to return a widget to West Marine and I am listening to the hum of the generator and trying to talk myself out of cleaning the locker under the sink. It reeks of mildew, but I am sort of hoping it will clean itself while I am writing.

We’ve had a couple of days of upheaval, caused by the untimely demise of the depth meter. The death of any instrument seems to require that all lockers be emptied, all stores unearthed, all closed spaces opened. That’s because you have to dismantle the boat to get to any of its systems, and because all spaces are crammed with what you need to live - everything from extra clothes and food to tools and lubricants. Day before yesterday was the Bad Day, which found me huddled in the stern of the boat surrounded by mounds of stuff from the cockpit lazarettes and David alternately below or crammed like Gumby down in those same lazarettes trying to figure out which part of the depth meter had croaked. When not hiding on the stern, I cleaned mildew off seldom seen bulkheads and longed for the desert.

As implied by its name, a depth meter tells you how deep the water is. That’s really important when you are in shallows and don’t want to get stuck. The waters of the ICW and the rivers, etc. of Florida are shallow and of course the Bahamas waters are also shallow, so we have to have a working depth meter. I now know that a depth meter has three parts, a “head” (the part that you read), a transducer (the part that sticks to the bottom of the boat and takes the measurements), and a wire between the head and the transducer that goes from the cockpit down into the bowels of the boat to be connected to the transducer. I will spare you the details, but after hours of testing and sliding in and out of the lazarette and removing wires and going to West Marine, and more testing, David figured out that the problem was not in the head ($$$) or in the transducer ($$) but in the wire itself, part of which had corroded (no $). So we now have a working depth meter and all it cost was our sanity for about 36 hours. The boat is put back together and life is once again good.

We celebrated by having friends Lindsay and Judy from Anastasia over for dinner. They are from Ft. Worth and know Clyde, Raven’s previous owner (they are the couple that knocked on our hull when we first came in to Stuart). We spent hours over dinner, comparing notes and talking about boats and ports and delivery jobs, and all sorts of things that interest only fellow boaters. They have been very kind to us, taking us to West Marine and the grocery store, and we have thoroughly enjoyed their company.

David and I also managed a walk around Stuart. There is a boardwalk that runs along the St. Lucie River, and when that peters out you find yourself in downtown Stuart (or at least the scenic downtown), on a main street full of galleries, junk shops, clothing stores, etc. Once we found the ice cream store, all was well. I had cappuccino chocolate chunk, which was frozen bliss. We enjoyed window shopping and peering into the river to catch sight of minnows and larger fish in pursuit of the minnows. Now that the repairs are made, we will be leaving tomorrow for Lake Worth, and then from there to Lighthouse Point (I think) where we have been invited to take a mooring by friends we met in 2006 in Maine. After we say goodbye to them, we will head for Port Everglades and (God willin’ and the creek don’t rise) we’ll cross at the next weather window. Finally!!!

I will keep that goal in mind, now, as I empty the shelves under the sink and see what is really there. Not the fun part of boat life, trust me.

Vero Beach to Stuart, Florida

[Hilde’s log]

Stuart, Florida, at last! We had several “last days” in Vero Beach before we actually managed to get away. I really thought we’d leave Tuesday - we even turned in our bathroom key. The food and supplies were bought and stowed, the rental car was returned, the laundry was done, the cockpit and the cabin roof were clear, we’d had our farewell showers, the income tax return was finished and ready to be mailed, the norther blew in and out, the sun was shining, and yet we sat another day. Why? The engine, of course!

After dinner the night before we were to leave, David decided to check the engine oil, to make sure all we had to do in the morning was crank the key in the engine. To his astonishment, the oil pan was full of diesel! He pumped it out, ending up with about 8 quarts of black, thin diesel mixed with oil that we poured into a sacrificial jerry can. He deduced that the diesel seeped through when he was fixing the injector and inadvertently left off a spring (later replaced, but evidently not soon enough to stop the seepage). Those high oil levels were a fairly traumatic find. He pumped out the diesel and oil and filled the pan with new oil, telling me if the level held when he checked the next morning, then we were fine; if not, we were stranded until he found out what on earth the problem could be. Funnily enough, when we ran the engine after draining the diesel and refilling the oil, it ran more smoothly than it ever has, a bass hum replacing the usual clatter. Seems we did a flush and made Mr. P very happy. We turned in late (1 a.m.) and although I slept like a dead thing, David woke up at three hearing a light rain and by the time he’d taken care of open portholes and stuff in the cockpit, he was wide awake.

The next morning the oil level was fine and that was good, but David had to take the bus in to Wal-Mart to get new jerry cans for water, this after only two hours of sleep. So when he returned, frazzled from the bus and chilled from the cool air we decided to wait another day so we could leave in peace and quiet after a full night’s sleep. David went back to bed for a long afternoon nap and I spent the time baking a pineapple upside down cake. The oven warmed the chilly cabin nicely, and when David woke up we took the rest of the day off, drinking coffee, eating cake, and watching a movie.

The next morning I took the bus to the post office to mail our tax return (how is it that you can make no money and still owe tax??) while David stowed stuff on the boat, checked the engine oil level, and otherwise got us ready to leave. We took another set of farewell showers when I got back from the post office and pulled away from the mooring about 11 a.m. David decided he wanted to check the oil level again, so we paused at the anchorage at Ft. Pierce, just past the bridge, about 15 miles from Vero Beach. The depth meter was also on the fritz, proclaiming a uniform depth of 18.8 feet every inch of the way, so while the engine cooled, David tore into the depth meter, the wiring, and the sensors to diagnose the problem. He finally decided that the unit itself had to be at fault. The good news was that the engine was behaving itself. The bad news was we would have to order a new depth meter for David to install. We spent the night at the Ft. Pierce anchorage, lopping about as the large boats sloshed by, eating soup, and getting a good night’s sleep. We figured we’d head to Stuart today in order to get and install a new depth meter. We both spend a lot of time shaking our heads over how much time David spends fixing things on the boat. Imagine that every time you drive to work, the muffler falls off your car, or a tire goes flat, or the odometer gets stuck, or the radio conks out. I joke weakly that it will be fun to be in the islands for my birthday (in March).

Stuart is about 35 miles from Ft. Pierce, a good day’s travel. It’s not on the ICW, but up the St. Lucie River about seven miles. It’s been a chilly day, as we’ve motored into stiff wind the entire way. NOAA confidently predicted 5 to 10 knots; we haven’t seen less than 15 all day. The rain finally caught up with us at the mouth of the St. Lucie and we wound our way westward with rain splattering the bimini, pooling in the cockpit, and fogging the isinglass of the dodger. Fishing boats of all sizes crowded the inlet, headed up and down the river, most of them churning heavy wake and making a convoluted entrance more difficult. Some day I suppose I will get used to the thoughtless way some people motor their boats, but it hasn’t happened yet. I bet they live their lives the way they motor their boats, just bullying their way along and the hell with everyone else. I am glad I don’t have to live with them; I wish they’d find another hobby so I didn’t have to boat with them.

The St. Lucie is a pretty river, lined with the requisite Florida mc-mansions crowded together on zero lot lines. The city marina at Stuart is large and boasts 80 odd mooring balls at a very reasonable $10 a night. Stuart is a very popular stop for the cruising community, with easy access to stores, groceries, and community activities. We’ve heard ugly rumors that a developer has taken a 50 year lease on the waterfront and plans to install dockage, reduce the mooring field, and hike the prices. It’s a shame, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s all part of the gentrification of the waterways. I wish I knew of a compromise;– after all, there’s nothing inherently superior about older facilities. It’s just that the improvements are so often Disneyesque and they are always priced in a way that excludes those of us who must cruise on a budget, not to mention the locals who own boats but not gold mines. They also exclude people who have made their living on the water historically and who can’t manage the taxes or the rentals on the suddenly high priced waterfront. Sigh. Let’s see if I can find a way down from this soapbox…

I managed to steer the boat close enough to the mooring that David could catch it without bodily injury, for which I (and he) was very grateful. We got settled in just before a hard rain began to fall, and retreated below for cookies and a rest. The new depth meter should be here tomorrow (ordered from Hamilton Marine, a wonderful mail order supplier of marine merchandise should you need any) and we’ll spend the weekend getting that installed, buying some fresh produce, strolling around Stuart, and enjoying my favorite land side activity, hot showers.

A couple in a dinghy just hailed us. We went topside and were greeted with “But you’re not Clyde!” Clyde is Raven’s previous owner, and this couple recognized the boat. We will get together later to get acquainted and trade stories. I'm always astonished by the number of ways you meet folks on the water!

Still in Vero Beach, but not for long!

[Hilde’s log]

We’re back on line! After a number of phone calls to progressively higher up employees of Verizon, we’ve managed to get our old plan reinstated and get the awful overcharges on the bill removed. This means that as long as the cell phone works (i.e., as long as we’re connected to the US shore) we can post from Raven, instead of slogging to the library.

I’ve just come off about ten days as Raven’s Captain. David went to Texas to take Schnitzel to my sister’s house in Tyler (and incidentally to pay a visit to our dentist) and I was left in charge. It was hard to see Schnitzel go – she’s such a great little dog, and we have literally not been separated since she arrived at my house as a tiny black puppy almost 12 years ago. But we just didn’t feel right about taking her – too many unknowns, too many different governmental restrictions from too many places, too much heat, and the ever present threat of her being under “boat quarantine” in foreign ports and unable to go ashore to take care of business. Despite or because of the fact that she’s a pretty smart cookie, for a dog anyway, she has refused to believe that it is okay to relieve herself on the boat. This refusal has resulted in our needing to take her to shore twice a day, which is not a problem when we are travelling on the coast. But offshore, it means she thinks she has to hold it, which she does for sometimes as long as two days before finally giving in. The waiting is painful for her and for us, both literally and figuratively. So she has gone to Aunt Carol’s to live with Oreo, Buster, and Napoleon (a Shitzu, a Wire Haired Terrier, and a Yorkie, respectively) for a few months. We hope she will be so busy establishing herself as Queen of the pack that she won’t be too traumatized by being booted off the boat. Carol says so far all is well – Schnitzel is enjoying cow hoofs to munch on, a big yard to run around in, and unlimited pee time.

Anyway, during the Texas trip I stayed in Florida to mind the boat. I have finally learned to start the outboard motor on the dinghy. It isn’t pretty, but I can do it. So while David was driving like a fiend, I was puttering back and forth to the dinghy dock, trying to run errands on the bus. Errands on the bus take hours, literally. One trip to Target to buy a new rug for the cabin took 5 hours – 2 at Target (I ended up with more than a rug) and 3 getting from the boat to the bus to Target to the bus to the boat. The rest of the time, I read, cleaned the boat, started the generator at least once a day to top up the batteries, rigged a tarp to keep rain from dripping down the forward hatch, and ate as much junk food as possible. I was so happy to see David return yesterday!

I have a few more errands to run tomorrow and am trying to schedule a medical check up in Stuart for early next week. After that – we’re off!!

You won’t be able to reach us by phone once we’ve left, but we will be checking email and posting to the blog whenever we manage to find a cyber café. We’ve been told they are all over the place, so here’s hoping.

Engineering Log - Vero Beach, FL

[Cap'n Dave's log]

Hi! Everyone:

True to its nick name (Velcro Beach), we have been unable to peel ourselves away since arriving here January 4th. Still, why cruise unless one can live without a schedule? We are currently waiting for deliveries of spare parts: new bug screens for the port lights, a seacock maintenance kit, and a special wrench for adjusting the rudder post stuffing box. With luck, they’ll be here soon and we’ll have no more excuses for lingering.

The mooring field here is extremely well protected, so I have had a stable platform for completing some repairs. The engine was weeping diesel fuel from a pipe flange on top of the high pressure injector fuel pump. The gasket had shriveled up with age or, perhaps, a tankful of diesel fuel containing ethanol, which is not friendly to very old gaskets, fuel lines, and tanks. NAPA had some neoprene of the right thickness, so I made a new gasket using the old one as a pattern. Eventually, I chickened out of using my homemade gasket and bought a manufactured one for $1.50, tax included. My homemade gasket will stand by as a spare. So, the diesel leak was taken care of.

During our first week here, I re-plumbed the head. I knew it was going to be a slog and had planned to replace one length of sewer line at a time, so that I could stop at any time and the head would still be operational. Well … the first line, from seacock to vented loop, wouldn’t let go without my raising the vented loop, which required removing another line, from vented loop to the Y-valve. Like dominoes, one fell, then the rest. Before too long I had removed the entire head: outflow pipes, inflow pipes, commode, and all. This job was every bit as ugly as I had expected. Given the potency of the smells, I was very glad that Raven was standing still. It was not the time to succumb to sea sickness.

After thoroughly cleaning the head, the installation of modern, white, plastic hoses was a pleasant task. I moved the Y-valve from the cupboard under the sink to the wall behind the commode. It is much more accessible now and, being closer to the head, will benefit more from the vinegar we use to minimize salt build-up. Also, the run from commode to seacock is about four feet shorter.

When the head was finished, I took several days off. I felt like I had earned a break. With labor costs at $60+ per hour, I knew I had saved us a few hundred bucks.

Another long-postponed job was a major overhaul of the galley range. One of the three top burners would not stay lit when the valve was released after the obligatory warm up period. The manufacturer told me that replacement burner (thermocouple) parts were no longer available. Instead, I’d have to purchase retrofit kits for the two small and one large burners. The prices were reasonable, particularly when compared to $1500 for a new stove. The installation was straightforward but after a couple of days one of the burner control valves began to leak and I had to order a new one. That’s the way it goes.

Dirty gasoline continues to haunt the Honda generator and outboard. Both would stall unless I applied half choke. Not wanting to be stranded in the dinghy, I once again rebuilt the carburetor on the outboard, this time removing and cleaning the jet. The fuel tank appeared clean but the inline filter was dirty. This motor now runs well,

Cleaning the fuel system of the Honda generator was educational. Indeed, the fuel tank was dirty, as was the inline filter. Getting to these parts required splitting the clamshell case. At one point I wondered if I’d be able to get it all back together. I did, and there are only two parts left over. Clearly, they are not critical as the generator now runs just fine.

I have been testing a fiberglass polish made by Starbrite. It appears to work well. Two applications are recommended, followed by a pure polish. I found it best to apply liberal amounts of polish with a rag, spreading it with light pressure. I let the polish do the work, allowing enough time for the solvents to soften the surface film. There appears to be no abrasive paste in this product, which makes me happy. After I removed the dried haze with a second rag, the chalkiness was gone and I could see the beginnings of a nice shine. I am encouraged to continue the process.

Other cruisers tell similar stories of non-stop repairs and maintenance. Someone remarked, “While you’re sleeping, your boat is falling apart.” Work on board is never finished. I have four lists of jobs: (A) broke, (B) almost broke, (C) routine maintenance, and (D) a wish list. My spirit dictates what gets done first, so the lists help match my mood to the work. This is the best way I know to minimize my resentments around what appears to be a non-stop battle with entropy. Even so, I much prefer working on this boat than doing similar work on a house or car. A common definition of cruising is “working on your boat in exotic locations”. The hardest job is to keep moving towards those exotic locations.

Best regards,
Captain Dave