Ten Years Ago and Right Now

[Hilde's log]

A happy birthday, 10 years ago today.

Ten years ago, on my 55^th birthday, I was baking a loaf of bread as we bobbed around in Great Sale Cay in the Abacos, Bahamas. See above photo for proof. This year, I'm not.

This year, I am seven weeks shy of my last day of work (well, of paid work), and am spending a lot of time sorting and tossing my belongings, an activity that seems to be a never-ending pursuit. We are trying to shrink our inventory yet again so David can get all his tools to fit in the smaller of our two storage spaces. The larger one is sort of a “garage” where he does work on the cars and where we have been varnishing the large doors. (see photo) It's a workshop, more than a storage space, but it needs to be shut down before we leave. So...more sorting and tossing. Thankfully, things that were vital to me eight years ago are much less so now, so I have been able to let go of more.

The "workshop" minus cars...varnishing in progress. All that stuff either has to be put on the boat, in our other tiny storage space, or tossed.

I must admit, I had no idea last June that we would still be working on the boat in March, and still working on storage, and still winding up, and still, well, everything. I have some acquaintances at church who were to set sail in February. They were at services last Sunday. I know exactly why, too. Same as us - “one more thing.”

Since the last post, we've had the mast pulled for repairs and upgrades (new radar, a radar “cage” to keep the sails from snagging on the radar, steps for climbing the mast, new spreaders, and a new mast step) and had the boat hauled for a rudder inspection, sea cock replacement, instrument fit, sole repair, and a bottom job. In between those large projects the cabin was full of folded sails and David was beavering away at the instruments and wiring and battery voltmeter. And, of course, the varnish work, which is getting very old.

Raven at Seabrook Shipyard, getting her mast pulled (that huge crane is pulling it up out of the deck).

But as of next Wednesday, Raven will be splashed again, the cabin will be clear of sails, one door and our table will be rehung and the rest of the varnish work will be almost finished. We actually do see the end of this year-long refit approaching. I am admiring the fact that the leaks from the sea cocks are a thing of the past, that the splintered floor is replaced, and that the cabin looks, well, finished. I might start looking for new couch pillows or something. Big shout out of thanks to Stix N Rigging and to Mockingbird Marine, who have done a fabulous job, and to the folks at Seabrook Shipyard, also an excellent group.

Raven "on the hard" at Seabrook Shipyard. Like an iceberg, most of the body of a sailboat is under the water! She looks naked with no mast, no boom, and no sails.

This is an interesting shot. See David's left hand? It's on our very tiny rudder. Note the flat finish of the new bottom paint. Every five years you get to do it again.

So, we're done, right? But, oh, wait, there's the non-skid to be re-done. And the instruments installed. And the solar panels. So it goes.

Still, starting next weekend, I will be hauling everything out of every crevice on board for a deep cleaning (no more construction dust) and yet another sort and throw party. Then we will begin moving back aboard. After we are back aboard, yet another deep cleaning and sort and throw party in the 5^th wheel prior to putting it on the market.

At some point in this process we will both be officially retired (!!!) and will move forward more quickly.

Except: the whole process is happening amid the arrival of our first grandchild and requisite trip(s) to Portland, Oregon, and in between all the other financial bits and pieces and medical bits and pieces that must be seen to in conjunction with leaving our pre-retirement lives...but that's okay. It will be on our time, for things that matter to us.

When you want to change your life in a major way, it's always a lot more complicated than you thought, even when you have done it before. But, one step at a time, you get closer and closer and then… then you find yourself baking bread while bobbing at Great Sale Cay.

THIS. Raven underway.

[Hilde's log]

A neighbor of ours had an interesting experience on her way across the Gulf recently. About 90 miles out, the step on the main mast disintegrated and the mast dropped about two inches into the keel. When the mast goes down, the tension on the standing rigging disappears, and so the base of the mast can move around on the keel. Main masts are big and heavy (ours is a modest 47' tall) so when they come down, they come down with a resounding whump. Fortunately no one was hurt, and she was able to limp back to Kemah using the motor. We found out about all this when she reappeared at Portofino, and David saw her drying out her jib on the berm instead of sending us post cards from Belize.

Neither David nor I had ever heard of a mast step disintegrating. Our neighbor's was made of mild steel, which tends to rot in sea water. Ours is not made of mild steel, but the rigging check showed….a rusted, disintegrating mast step. While it is not in immediate danger of breaking down, there is no way of knowing when it would reach the end of its life. Maybe a year from now? Five years? We decided to get it fixed and have one less thing to worry about. After all, it's reasonable maintenance for a 33 year old boat. Below are some photos that show the problem (and the dirt) and another photo of what a mast step should look like. 

Nasty mess.

Nasty mess #2.

This is what it will look like once replaced.

I am very grateful we were alerted to this problem and had enough sense to follow through with checking it out on Raven. Having the mast collapse in a calm sea is bad enough, but imagine if you had some rough weather, or were too far offshore to motor to port, or it happened at 2 a.m., which is when trouble delights in appearing. I keep this in mind as we write the check for the fix. It is a large check.

We need to schedule boat yard time to fix that problem and to install the various radar, upgrades, etc. that will be on the mast. The good news is, we can do a lot of the prep ourselves which will cut down on labor cost and we can kill two birds with one stone, labor-wise – all the things that need to be added to the mast can be done at one time while the step is being repaired/replaced.

Despite this new issue, things are moving on apace. David has finished one of the new instrument pods, wiring and all. This pod will be mounted vertically beside the helm pedestal for easy viewing (see photo below). There is a second pod in progress which will be mounted at eye level, horizontally, with the GPS, wind speed/heading indicator, etc.

Looks kind of like R2D2.

The main cabin has reverted to being workshop space, but will soon be clear again. David has finished the quarterberth shelves, complete with supports. We are thinking of making the lower portion a sleeping berth for a 3^rd person on board. A snug fit, but doable, and nicer than having to share a “hot bunk” with another crewmate.

At the beginning...

Finished! David fits in the space below, so it's a good length for sleeping. Just don't jolt upright in the night!

Looking up to the bottom of the shelves, you can see the supports and bolts to hold the shelves in place.

David has also finished wiring the starboard side with AC voltage, and has moved the battery charger from an inaccessible nook at the back of the quarterberth to a snug home he can easily reach from the deck access hatch. The switch panel was completed earlier in December, but it looks so nice I wanted to post a photo. The first photo below shows the mass of wiring; the one below that shows the finished product. David has spent hours stripping out extraneous wiring from 30 years and two previous owners and is happy that what is left is necessary and neatly laid out, instead of a tangled mess.

The guts of the thing, with wires everywhere. All these wires belong here. Wads of wires that went nowhere have been removed.

Neat and functional! We even have USB ports for the phones!

I keep trying to get David to add some commentary to the log, but he says he's too busy with his projects, so all the technical details will have to wait til he comes up for air.

Baby, it's cold outside....

[Hilde's log]

As I write this, it is cold out there (well, for us) at about 40 with a nasty wind chill. We are still not aboard, which is the good news and the bad news. The bad news is just that we miss being on the boat, which is still under construction, so to speak. The good news is, we are much more comfortable than we would be at the marina. It is not fun to walk to the cars, or to the outside (!) laundry, or to the bath house in cold weather. Not only is it a bit of a hike from our new slip, but we also have to walk past the open water of the Kemah channel, and when the wind blows it's some kind of freezing out there.

December was pretty much of a loss as far as the boat goes. We were both flattened for three weeks with the Great Gulf Coast Plague of 2016. Mine devolved into pneumonia! We are both fine now, but neither of us had any energy for doing anything but being sick for most of the month. The last week we traveled for Christmas and had a wonderful time, but again, not much time for the boat.

Before I was felled by the Plague, I did manage to finish the v-berth and the head. Since I took the photos below, we have put the cushions back in the berth and all doors are installed in the head. Such an improvement! The varnish is 90% finished below decks. I think I am down to a small door, a medium sized door, and two big doors. I'll post another photo when it's all done and liveable.

Before

After

Shiny new head, missing a door which has since been installed

Since we returned from our Christmas travels, David has been at full steam with the remaining repairs/upgrades. One of the huge upgrades is our new instrument array. David just built the new pedestal guard from scratch. Our old one was rusted in too many places and the new ones cost $200! So he built his own – check out the photo below (note the dark...he is working in the dark a lot right now). Next up is installing the new instruments and running wires hither and yon. 

David's new pedestal guard

The revised move-on date, hopefully the last one, is mid to late February. It usually warms up considerably here by that time and usually there is a lot more sun. Fingers crossed.

Catching up

Hi! Everyone:

No, we haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth. Establishing ourselves in Corpus Christi (CC) has been frighteningly difficult and time consuming.

When Raven was in Clear Lake we dodged Hurricane Dolly that crossed the coast south of CC. We took our small travel trailer home to Canyon Lake, about 100 miles north. The winds shook us about some and it rained like crazy, but it wasn’t too bad.

I went to Clear Lake to work on Raven and was there for Tropical Storm Edouard, which turned out to be a non event.

Finally, Bill arrived from Dallas and we took Raven to CC. The forecast was for unsettled weather, but there were no storms in the offing, so we went. We caught the wind and tide just right for an easy passage through Galveston’s jetties, then turned SW. The port close reach was good sailing, but towards evening the winds dropped and would not keep the sails filled in the considerable chop that is frequently found along the north Gulf coast. The motor fired up fine, we dropped sails and settled in for the night.

Bill made a lovely salad for supper and we both chowed down eagerly. A little later I started to feel ill, then sick. I spent a miserable night and all of the next day with severe headache and nausea. I tried to pull my weight with boat duties but in any position except horizontal I was violently ill.

Just as quickly as it started, around 2200 hours the illness departed and I felt fine. I was ready to work and to eat. It was a miraculous recovery.

Poor Bill dropped into the bunk and caught up on some well-earned sleep. He kept things going when I was out of it and I greatly appreciate his help. Without him I would have had to heave to in a region of water where there are tens, if not hundreds, of oil platforms. This experience has re-framed any ideas I had about single-handing.

By the time I recovered, the wind had piped up and Bill had all sails flying. Raven was tearing along on a close reach. I kept things going through the night and by dawn we were off Port Aransas Pass. Rather than enter in the dark, we killed an hour reaching back and forth close the outer marks.

At first light we headed in and had a long but uneventful chug along the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway, past the Naval Air Station at Ingleside, to Corpus Christi.

It is impossible to disagree with Bill’s description of this experience as “the trip from Hell”. Still, he is ready to sign up again. The next trip just has to be better …

The trip down the coast loosened the rudder post stuffing box to the point that no further tightening stopped the inflow of water. The bilge pump was going off every five minutes. It was clearly time to properly fix this problem that Robinhood Marine in Maine was paid to fix two years ago. Once hauled out, I discovered that the stuffing material was old and fully compressed. Given this opportunity, I also replaced the obviously original 4” diameter rubber tube between hull and stuffing box. It was not leaking (yet!) but the rubber was perished and flakey.

North Shore Boatworks in Ingleside was a pleasure to deal with. They encouraged me to do the work myself and offered to help if I needed it. While they added new bottom paint, I fixed the stuffing box and serviced three seacocks. I should have done them all but it was extremely hot on the hard.

For some ridiculous reason I had been afraid to service seacocks. That two of them were seized added to my fears. Once the locking nuts were eased, a large hammer helped to free up one seacock and a tube slipped over the handle gave me enough leverage to free up another. Obviously I was careful not to apply too much muscle.

Dunking the parts in a muriatic acid solution cleaned of the scale and grime. I then lapped all valves and lubed them with Lucas “Red and Tacky” grease. I tried to get the recommended grease but NAPA no longer sells it. They recommended this as a replacement.

I quickly discovered that it is easy to over-tighten seacocks. In doing so the grease is squeezed out and lost, leaving metal-on-metal. In the end I abandoned all wrenches and used only my fingers to tighten the seacocks. I expected that they would leak upon re-floating and require tightening. They did not. So far, they are still easy to turn and have not leaked one drop.

The latest repair is to the 30A socket for shore power. The wires had become loose and had been arcing. We were lucky that they didn’t catch fire. This work is in progress. I have bought an extra 30A socket that is for only the heat pump. The 8AWG-3 wire is huge and perhaps overkill for the job. I am considering using #10 instead. More later.

Best regards to you all.

Captain Dave

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

Engine woes

Hi! Y’all:

Fair warning to those whose eyes glaze over during technical talk. That’s what this post is all about.

Two engine problems have occurred this year: fuel system and cooling system.

A fuel leak developed between the high pressure fuel pump and the flange for the return (to fuel filter) line. The neoprene gasket had lost its resiliency and needed to be replaced. While I dithered for several days, first making one, then deciding to use a $1.50 factory replacement, the fuel system was open to the atmosphere. Once I’d installed the gasket, I started the engine to test for leaks (there were none), let it run for 30 minutes, then shut it down. I didn’t use the engine for several more days. Before departing Vero Beach, I checked the engine oil level and discovered it was very high on the dipstick. I pumped out nine quarts of fluid (c.f. five quarts), a combination of engine oil and diesel fuel; thankfully, no water. I replaced the engine oil and we continued our journey.

Over the next several weeks, Mister P (P for Perkins) performed flawlessly. The unintentional engine flush with diesel-thinned oil had “cleared out the sinuses” and removed the long-standing clatter from the general direction of the engine compartment. Mister P was at his peak.

A week ago, I noticed the oil level was again high on the dipstick, although only slightly so this time. I had added a pint of oil only the night before, so I couldn’t be sure that I hadn’t overfilled the engine. I resolved simply to observe. I also sought advice on the cruisers’ net here in Abaco. Two people assured me that the fuel pump diaphragm had ruptured. One offered me his spare, if I needed it. That was extremely kind. Due to (Raven’s previous owner) Clyde’s forethought, there was a spare fuel pump on Raven. I fitted it, made sure that the engine would run, then opened up the old pump. The diaphragm was good. So, now I must again wait and watch.

The cooling system problem has been building slowly. Basically, the running temperature has been rising. During long periods at fast idle, charging batteries, the temperature remained at its normal 180°F. Underway, depending on load, it had been as high as 195°F, but sometimes it would run at normal. I checked the intake, the strainer, the impeller, and the hoses. All were OK. That left the thermostat and heat exchanger to inspect. I didn’t want to do this job, dragged my feet, looked for other causes, and denied there was any problem at all. On our way from Hope Town to Lynyard Cay, a 20 mile motor-sail before the wind, the water temperature rose to 200°F. This was beyond my comfort level. We were heading to more remote areas of the Bahamas and this problem was getting worse. I knew I’d have to solve it. Reluctantly, we returned to Marsh Harbour, backtracking 22 miles. It was worth it to have access to marine supplies and a FedEx office, in case I needed special Perkins parts flown in.

The NAPA store had a new thermostat but no gasket. I made one. I also dug out the special Perkins/Bowman heat exchanger rubber end caps I’d bought in Seabrook two years ago, also from NAPA. To gain clearance to lift the thermostat housing off the long studs, I had to remove the hose that carries antifreeze to the header tank. Ah ha! Lodged in the 90° elbow was a red worm, about 2’ long and ¼” diameter. Bits of rust and other debris had collected around it, cutting flow to about 5% of normal. The red worm turned out to be flexible gasket material that someone had been far too generous with during a previous repair. After reaming out the elbow and associated 2” pipe, I changed the thermostat, and exposed the heat exchanger core. It wouldn’t come out for cleaning but I easily passed a 1/8^th inch wooden dowel through every tube, so the raw water flow was clearly unimpaired. During reassembly, I replaced the end caps, one other rubber elbow, and one almost-broken-through worm drive clamp. I’ve learned that not all stainless steel clamps are made equal. Take a ceramic magnet with you to the store when you buy one. The best stainless steel is non-magnetic. Also, the clamps with pressed threads, rather than stamped-out threads, are usually of better quality.

Once all the clamps were tight, I topped up the antifreeze and then let everything sit overnight. I wanted to give the hoses and clamps time to settle in. Next morning, before starting the engine I checked all clamps for tightness. The engine started first crank, as usual, and came up to temperature – just below 180°F. I let it run for 30 minutes but never under load. (We are anchored out.) The temperature didn’t budge.

And so, the present crisis is over. Now, we are waiting for our mail from Texas and enjoying a little down time. Even allowing for unexpected problems, Raven’s maintenance list is slowly shrinking. If you think it’s tough to keep a car running, try a boat. Wear and tear takes its toll, as can be expected, but the environment is relentless in its attacks on the boat and everything on board, particularly the mechanical and electrical systems. It’s as well that cruising’s payback exceeds the work involved in staying afloat and underway.

Best regards,
Captain Dave

Engineering Log - Stuart, FL

[Cap'n Dave's log]

Hi! Everyone,

I'm a little overdue with this post. All of these mechanical “challenges” occurred before we left Stuart, FL: diesel fuel in the oil pan, dead depth meter, and oil pressure gauge reading 80 psi whenever the ignition is on, engine running or not.

The night before we were due to leave Vero (a.k.a. Velcro) Beach I decided to get ahead of myself and check the engine oil level. The dipstick came up all wet, with no visible demarcation between wet and dry. I wiped it off and tried again. Same! In order to find the level I had to leave about five inches of the dip stick out of the tube. Hey ho! What’s going on? The oil appeared very thin and smelled of diesel fuel. There were no signs of water in the oil. How had diesel fuel gotten into the oil pan, how much was in there, and did I have enough empty containers to get it all out? I sacrificed one of our new six-gallon water jugs and proceeded to fill it with about nine quarts of sump “liquid”. Hmmm! There wasn’t anything to do but put four quarts of fresh engine oil into the engine, run it up to temperature, and check the level in the morning. I’m sure our neighbors weren’t thrilled to hear our motor at 11pm. Oh, well! Next morning the oil level was fine. It has remained OK even after three days of motoring from Vero Beach to Stuart. I still don’t know what went on, but I have three possible scenarios, none of which satisfactorily explain the symptoms. In Vero, I replaced a leaking neoprene gasket between the top of the oil injection pump and the flange for the pipe that returns fuel to the secondary oil filter. About one week passed between my removing the old gasket and my installing the new one. During that time the fuel system was open to the air. Did diesel fuel somehow drain or siphon itself into the sump? (Five quarts of it?) After this repair, I ran the engine to temperature then shut it off. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to reconnect the return spring to the stop lever on the injector pump and it was slightly off the stop for about two weeks. Again, did diesel fuel somehow drain or siphon itself into the sump? (Five quarts of it?) I still don’t know what happened. Ironically, during the thirty minutes I ran Big Blue with very thin engine oil the engine oil galleries were thoroughly flushed clean. It runs sweeter than ever, with none of the clatter that has annoyed me for four thousand miles.

The depth meter has been reading erratically for a long time and since leaving Vero Beach it showed mostly “all segments lit”, the digital equivalent of “full scale deflection”, I suppose. Coming into Stuart, the digits disappeared, leaving only MSD showing down the left side of the display. I think is means “Maximum Sounder Depth”, but that’s only my guess. There seem to be no existing documents for this old Datamarine S200DL unit, not even courtesy of Google. I ordered a Moor Systems depth meter from Hamilton Marine, which I was told should work with the old Datamarine transducers. This was important since the (unused) transducer in the thru hull is epoxied in place, the (unused) transducer lying in the same locker had no receptacle in the hull to slide into, and the suspect transducer in the bubble (containing mineral oil) was glued in place. I paid for UPS to air freight the unit overnight (ouch!), so that I could work on it over the weekend. Normally, the depth meter is a “luxury” instrument, but in the Bahamas and in the ICW it earns its keep and becomes essential information. Our departure to the Bahamas was off until I could get the depth meter working again. Needless to say, none of the old transducers worked with the new display head. I freaked out with visions of hauling Raven to enable me to install the new transducer, which was too short for Raven’s thick hull, etc. And we’d have to find somewhere to live. And we’d have to rent a car. Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Ka-ching! I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly. I took a break and visited our new friends on Anastasia, also ex-Seabrook cruisers. (Lindsay and Judy White) Lindsay suggested (no, insisted) that I connect the new transducer to the old display head and hang the former over the side. Hey! It worked. The old display head was OK. Lindsay also suggested firing the new transducer through the hull. No go, but nor had we immersed it in any liquid. So, I set about removing the old transducers, figuring I’d be able to epoxy the new head directly to the inside of the hull, thereby removing any attenuating air bubbles. As I was coiling the coax wire on the old transducer, about half way along it was as stiff as a pencil, for about 15”. Clearly, it was corroded on the inside. Perhaps the casing had been damaged and water had entered the core. I cut off the suspect wire, soldered on a new RCA connector, plugged it into the display, hung the transducer over the side, and fired it up. Bingo! It worked. All it needed was good wire and good soldered connections. Duh!

The oil pressure gauge has read full scale since somewhere off the Carolinas. I didn’t notice any precipitating event. I just assumed a wire had come off or the sending unit had broken. In Vero Beach I hunted down a sending unit and installed it. No change! In Stuart I ran a test wire directly from the sender to the gauge. No change! I put an Ohm meter directly on the sender: 220kΩ with the engine stopped, 2kΩ with the engine running. Could the gauge itself be bad? It’s unlikely that the needle would move at all if the gauge was broken. I wondered if it was a weird grounding issue in the rat’s nest that is the instrument panel wiring. I tore it all out and rebuilt it (using ABYC color codes and appropriate AWG sizes) but it didn’t fix the oil pressure gauge. So, I still don’t have this one resolved. It’s not a show stopper. The oil low pressure buzzer works OK and that’s much more important than an oil pressure reading.

Best regards,
David

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!