Life in the old dog yet.

Hi! Everyone:

Mister P is running again. Initially, the idle was high (around 1200 rpm) but was easily adjusted to 750 rpm. The shop manual recommends 650, but I see no point in having the engine shake its mounts at that low speed.

It took several attempts to start. I bled air out of the fuel system but I was ignorant of the second bleed screw on top of the injector pump's “anti-stall device”. Raven’s pump is a hybrid of the two drawings in the shop manual, and neither showed this type of bleed screw. After talking with two other Perkins owners, I decided to loosen this screw.

But first … I had to modify an Allen wrench to fit between the screw and the heat exchanger. Have you ever tried to hacksaw through even a small Allen wrench? After twenty minutes I had barely scratched its surface. Friends on Brendan bailed me out with the loan of their Dremmel. (Mine is in storage, of course.) Unable to get any Allen wrench to fit, I had to guess which one to cut ¼” off. Third wrench was a charm.

Bleeding out the air was becoming second nature. Eventually, one cylinder fired, then another … Once all four were firing, I shut down the engine and opened the raw water seacock. I had closed it to keep from filling the wet muffler with sea water while I was repeatedly cranking a reluctant engine. Thankfully, I remembered to open it. In Bellhaven, NC, two years ago, I was so elated after effecting an engine repair that I forgot to re-open the raw water seacock, causing the engine to overheat, the cabin to fill with sweet-smelling steam from boiling antifreeze, and Hilde to go in search of Raven’s fire extinguishers.

When they are running well, diesel engines at idle sound like they have a heartbeat. It was almost as if I had breathed new life into some living beast. (Steam engine enthusiasts will easily understand this.) Naturally, I am very happy that there seems to be life in the old dog yet.

CD36 owners with the 4.108 engine and the one-piece, aluminum, Bowman casting that is a combined exhaust manifold, heat exchanger, and antifreeze header tank on the engine’s port side might be interested to know that this assembly can be removed and reinstalled without removing the injectors and the high pressure fuel lines. (Write me for details.)


Raven’s heat exchanger was designed with no zinc, so I added a bushing and pencil zinc at the rear of the casting. (On the right in the picture, just below the lazarette hinge.) It is easy to reach to check and replace, if necessary. I don’t know if I did it right, but the corrosion on the heat exchanger indicated that some sort of sacrificial zinc was necessary. (Write me for details.)


The exhaust goose neck, from the rear of the manifold to the wet muffler was heavily rusted. It is made of standard 1½” galvanized plumbing pipe, elbows, and connectors. It has worked flawlessly for 24 years, so I can’t knock the design. To remove the rust, I first tried Naval Jelly. It did only “OK” so next I dipped it in muriatic acid, diluted 1:5 with water. This is nasty, nasty stuff. I was my first experience of it and, I hope, my last. For all that, it worked wonders on the exhaust pipe, removing the rust and calcium so that the original pipe threads are again visible. After neutralizing the acid in a bath of water and baking soda and allowing the pipe to dry, I wire-brushed it vigorously. The Houston air was so damp that surface rust began forming almost immediately, so I painted it with Ospho to stabilize the surface. The final coat is Duracolor’s high temperature, ceramic-based paint. It is rated up to 1200°F and sprays on like chromium plating. It was very satisfying to see the exhaust pipe shining like polished silver. I have run the engine over an hour already and the pipe is still shiny.

Diesel Parts Sales on Canal Street in Houston did an excellent job of rebuilding the pump and atomizers, and refurbishing the heat exchanger. They took the time to answer my questions patiently and willingly shared their encyclopedic knowledge of Perkins engines.

Now that all that is behind me, I hope to bring Raven to Corpus Christi next week. Watch this space for our progress.

Best regards,
Captain Dave

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!