Some Days You Just Get Tired

A few days ago the 50 – 30 amp shore power cord adapter caught fire. Deb happened to be walking down the dock at that moment, saw the smoke, ran to the boat calling for a fire extinguisher. A minute later all was well with the world. Of course there was no AC after a couple of days of being spoiled and sleeping well. It was a hot and humid night's sleep. But that seemed a minor thing to chafe over.

The next morning we bought a new shore power cord, pulled the smart plug off of the old cord, made sure it wasn't damaged, and modified the new cord with the proper end to fit the boat. Our new crew member got a chance to dive into electrical repair. The next generation of mechanics getting its feet wet. 

Since the 1 to 1 adapter was burnt toast we dug up the 2 to 1 adapter that was on the boat and tried to plug it in. It would not lock into the plug at our dock. It locked into the plug at the next dock so...mystery. The marina owner was called in because there was something wonky with something, maybe on his side of the dock, maybe on our side. After a few tries he loaed us an adapter that would lock in and took ours back to his shop for a look over. But before he left we powered up the Air Con side of our AC circuit. Cool air flowed so the marina owner headed off and we closed up the boat due to the incoming rain. All was well with the world...for about 10 minutes. Then the Air Con side of the 110v panel went dead. The shore power breaker was still closed so it seemed likely that the problem lie with the old but newly installed smart plug. Easy troubleshooting was to switch the two power cables on the boat and, sure enough, the boat side of the 110v panel, now powered by the old plug, was dead. Shut off all shore power beakers, then open them up again. ??? Everything working. Power down, swap the plugs, power up. Everything working. ??? There are few things I like less or distrust more than a system that seems to fix itself. More troubleshooting ensued but nothing popped up to explain why the power went away in the first place. With no other option seemingly at hand we powered everything up and let it run. Which it did for hours without a hitch. But puzzlement and caution still ruled.

While Grandson Eldest and I worked on getting electricity to the Air Con system, Deb went to work installing a filter in the holding tank vent line. Every time the head is flushed that wonderful, boat specific odor we all know so well, wafts out of the vent and into boat through nearby ports. (The designer who located a head vent near a port must have failed vent design 101.) It should have been a simple install. But in this particular case none of the fittings that came with the filter fit the hoses that came with the boat. She spent hours searching through our stash of oddball fittings trying to find some combination that would mate everything together. But with the day running out she finally had to call it an impasse, reassemble the vent as it was, and start over with a visit to the hardware store the next morning. Two boat projects that should have been pretty straight forward turned sour. With additional effort they will become a note in the maintenance log, drift into the past, and be mostly forgotten. But, some days, one just gets tired of the relentless broken stuff on a boat.

But such are also days to practice other skills, like shrugging one's shoulders, forcing a rue smile or cracking a crude joke, and then just getting on with the program. We picked this life on the water to be a bit more independent, fend for ourselves, live light on the planet, and make our own way. When things go wrong or someone makes a mistake (like me not taping the cord adapter so it could not wiggle its way loose on the moving dock and start making sparks) just learn (or relearn) something and go on.

The Air Con worked through the night and into the day.  Parts were assembled into a new 1 to 1 50/30 amp connector for the shop power cord that replaced the loner. And, in the process, we might have found the reason for the ??? Air Con failure. The second and open connecter on the loaner 1 to 2 50/30 amp cord was really wet, even though it was wrapped and zip tied into a plastic bag. The system was up and running again and, again, after a few hours, tripped the boat side Air Con AC panel breaker. When we pulled the strainer there were parts of chewed up jellyfish stuck inside. We cobbled up the bits and tools needed to pull the water line off of the strainer, hook up an outside hose, and back flush the thru-hull. A procedure we seem to be doing at least once a day. Jellyfish can make you tired as well.

In the midst of the ongoing Air Con work, a good solution was found for the head tank vent filter. Stink interception is assured and life on board is a bit more pleasant. 

WiFi access on the boat has been another hassle. Deb ordered some kind of magic doo-dad and, after a bit of a language tussle with a company tech who could barely speak english (something that will make anyone tired of the day) internet access is much improved...and life on board is a bit more pleasant. Good outcomes at the end of days that make you tired.

There were three days of running wiring for an external plug to power up our new cooler/freezer that has taken up residence in the aft cockpit. When that job hit a delay for lack of the correct spade connections to fit in the space we had, we traded off on installing some additional bracing for the Dink storage pivots. The original install had included one such brace under where the engine hung, nothing under the other. The wood under the other has started to give way. But working over water while trying to cobble together something that will both do the job and while not looking like a total hack job? Well, that can make one a little tired as well.

All days eventually come to an end. Some make you tired while others? Not so much. All one can do is deal with the day as it is offered and enjoy a sunset at its end. Particularly with life on the water.

Dock Visitors

It's been a busy week for Team First Light. On Friday, Tim's brother drove down from Pittsburgh, PA to visit for the weekend and stayed on the boat with us. Roo, our newest crew member, graciously gave up his cabin for Uncle Paul to stay in (Age before beauty rules.) The following day Team St. Louis arrived in the form of my youngest daughter, her significant other, my granddaughter and her cousin. They had reserved a room at the Oriental Inn and Marina just a couple blocks away. The weather was going to deteriorate the end of the weekend, so we loaded everyone up early Saturday morning and headed off the dock for a 2-hour tour of the Neuse River. It was absolutely perfect weather, seas were calm and the sun was shining. Everyone was happy to have the chance to be on the water, maybe no one more than the Captain.

The rest of the weekend was spent sharing food and laughter and enjoying the wildlife by the dock. It was a great time spent with family and we were really happy to share just a bit of why we like this lifestyle.

Some photos from my youngest daughter's collection:

Roo taking his uncle on a dinghy ride in Smith Creek.

And a different kind of dock visitor this morning...

Small mods, big improvements

One thing we think we have noticed with being on a trawler is how much it rolls. Even a small fishing boat motoring past our pier will set First Light to rolling port and starboard like she is trying to rock a baby to sleep, or make an adult turn green. It isn't much of an issue as long as the curtains are open. Having an expansive view of the horizon helps keep the stomach and the inner ear in synch. Ah, but with the port and starboard curtains closed in efforts to keep the blazing sun from competing the with A/C? Not only is that expansive view of the outside world unavailable, the curtains themselves sway like palm trees in a storm. That movement compounded by the motion of the boat and with no real view outside will have the inner ear and stomach at odds in short order. 

The curtains on the aft windows, which are mounted on a slanted part of the wall, have both top and bottom curtain rods. Mmm... So why not mount some bottom curtain rods in the side windows for when those walls are slanted in a roll? Parts were ordered that arrived in a day or so. On the first day that working inside to escape the heat seemed a good idea, packages were opened and work commenced.

The project took a couple of hours. Mounting the rods was easy, it was hand sewing 52 separate rings into the bottom edge of the curtains that chewed up a majority of the time. Grandson Eldest and I managed to finish the task for the two curtains on the starboard side in about twice the time it took Deb to finish the two on the port side. Maybe the fact that she has been an expert seamstress for all the years I have known her had something to do with it. The good news is that the rings are mounted to the back of the curtains, so the difference in the skill levels involved in the hand stitching is hidden out of sight. The really good news is that the curtains no longer sway, making for a remarkable improvement in the comfort level of the boat when sitting around the salon enjoying boat life.

Another small improvement was made by taming, at least to some degree, the rat's nest of wiring clumped up in the salon near the table. Looking to plug a charger into phone, iPad, or computer meant pawing through a tangle of tangled up wires which seemed to get even more tangled as one tried to untangle the one needed. It still isn't "happy wiring" but at least a couple of levels of "tangle" have been eliminated. 

It is often that way. Putting up a few pictures from “home”, having drink holders in place, adding a simple charging port next to a favorite sitting place, changing a latch on a cabinet or door for easier access; small improvements make the day just a little easier and the boat “fit” a little better. When one lives in a relatively small space, fit is important.

All for a single screw

While poking around in the engine room a while ago it was noted that a bonding wire was just laying around loose in the bilge, bonded to nothing in particular. The screw that once connected it to the starboard side shaft seal housing had corroded to the point where it had lost its head. The rest of it had remained, fused into the metal part of the seal. There was no chance of extracting the broken-off screw bit with an easy-out. Worse, the odds were good for the easy-out breaking in the attempt. Those who have tried to get a broken easy-out out of whatever it had broken off in, are likely cringing at the very thought. I did. Another approach was needed.

One could drill and tap a new hole near the old one and put in a new screw. Not much of a project but still something that needed to be done before putting a lot of miles under the keel. Still, one should always be just a bit careful about drilling new holes in machinery. Particularly when that machinery is sitting in water and the hole is under the water line.

So out came the electric drill and drill set for making the new hole. Also needed was the tap & die set for threading the new hole. The electrical bag held some of the tools needed for making up a new bonding wire. The hydraulic crimper box came out to fix the ring connecters to the ends on a new piece of 6 aught wire. The general purpose tool set came out for odds and ends like screw drivers and pliers, along with some scotchbright and 80 grit sand paper for assuring good electrical bonding on the somewhat grungy parts. The parts boxes for screws, washers, connectors, and tie-wraps, were brought out from storage.

Since we were dealing with bonding wire there was no need for the heat gun box as heat shrink on the connectors is not required. For those wondering why not use the original wire, it broke off at the supposedly attached end as soon as it was tugged on just a little bit. Attaching that end at a much more accessible spot than the original meant installing a longer wire.

We opened up the access panels to the engine room and jumped in, both figuratively and literally, to get the job done. After deciding exactly where to poke a new hole, the drill motor was brought into play. The hole was safely drilled but there was no way to fit the normal “T” handle tap driver into the workspace. So the electric drill was called back into play to drive the tap into the new screw hole. A bit of soap made do for cutting oil while the lightest possible touch was applied to the drill trigger.  Electric  drills are excellent tap snappers. Which will ruin a day just as much as snapping off an easy-out.

It all went pretty much as planned, which means it took about twice as long at it seemed it should have. We did have to open yet another tool box for a magnetic pick-up tool. That was needed to chase down a runaway tap that bounced its way into the work space. As a long time aircraft mechanic, leaving stray parts or lost bits in a work space is simply intolerable. After the task itself was done, came putting all the tools away, a final cleaning up the work space, and closing up the access panels to the engine compartment. And all to replace a single screw. 

But that is the way of boats.

Three for Three

Today we cleared three items from "The List". Item one? Replace the not working cigarette style power plug at the upper helm. It is used to to power up the iPad that is our back-up chart plotter. The old one came out. The new USB power outlet fit in the same hole and used the same wiring. Three minutes. Done.

Item two? Secure the top door rack in the fridge so that it would stop falling out, spilling food items all around the galley, and eliciting harsh words from the Admiral every time it happened. Drill 4 holes, seal and install four screws. About seven minutes. Done.

Item three? Replace the broken snap fastener on the screen for the helm door. Oops, not broken. Someone just left the old broken piece in place while putting a new snap in the screen. Pry the broken bit off off, snap the screen in place. Done. About 30 seconds.

Total work day? Less than 10 minutes.

Cool beans.

Midnight Maintenance Madness

High ambient temperatures, high humidity, and heavy rains were in the forecast for the coming night and following days. An ops check of the air conditioning system seemed like a good idea. There isn't much to it. Throw the breakers, pick the fore or aft system, select “START” for a few seconds, select “RUN”, check for water squirting out of the boat and for cold air coming out of the vents.

No water. No Cold air. Mmm...

Given that the system hasn't been run in a while a water pump airlock was the obvious culprit. First Light's system has a minor install fault in that the water pump is mounted above the water line. Opening the thru-hull doesn't guarantee water at the pump inlet. It is a simple fix. Fill the strainer and, just to be sure, pull the outlet hose and fill the pump. Deb, ensuring I don't do anything dumb that would provoke another trip to the ER, climbed into the engine room to do the deed. My job was to throw the breakers and, well, you know the rest.

Success! Water squirting out of the boat and cold air coming out of the vents. We let the system run for a minute or so. Since there was a nice cool breeze wafting fresh air through the boat it never occurred to any of us that we should leave the AC running for a good while. What did occur, but didn't really register in my rusty mechanic's mind (until later) was that the water coming out of the side of the boat wasn't really squirting, it was more flowing as it does out of the sink drain. But there was water and cold air. On with the day which involved a small improvement on the Dink Lift system, a couple of long walks, and a lot of fun music time with Grand Son Eldest and I playing uses together. 

Later, an impromptu movie night (Avatar 2; The Way of the Water) had the crew heading for the berths later than normal. With storms still in the forecast, the forward AC was brought on line to keep the berths cool with the boat buttoned up. Just as I settled in to bask in the glory of an air conditioned boat the breaker popped and, just like that, Midnight Maintenance Madness. Deb, still making sure I don't do anything dumb, climbed into the engine compartment and did the airlock routine again. But this time all we got for the effort was a feeble squirt, and few dribbles, then nada. Mmm...

If the pump is running, not loading up because it can't push the water through, but not actually pushing any water? Only one thing remains; it isn't getting any water to push. A check of the strainer, after shutting the thru-hull, didn't show any blockage. Mmm...

Crack the thru-hull just a little, just a little bit of water flowed into the strainer. Okay. Open the thru-hull more. Still just a little bit of water. Open the thru-hull all the way. Still just little bit of water. Certainly not enough to quench the thirst of a running AC pump. Bummer. So, no AC until a diver can be brought in, not likely to happen on the far side of mid-night. Lucky for us the rain never showed during the night. A few open ports and a couple of fans kept things comfortable for a tired crew to collect some well deserved ZZZZZs.

We will get a diver in as soon as we can. If the rains get here before the diver can find time for us we will enjoy some hot and muggy hours and drink a lot of cold water. (I may flavor mine with a bit of rum.) Each day we seem to learn a little bit more about the systems on First Light and clear a few more cobwebs out of my lethargic mechanic's brain. Both good things, even if they occasionally lead to an episode of Midnight Maintenance Madness.

Teary Goodby's...

Daughter Eldest and Family (of In the Wind Projects You Tube Channel) showed up a couple of days ago, family including four of our eleven grandkids. They live on their own boat in Florida, and have done so for many years now. We sailed together for some of the very best times we enjoyed while traveling on Kintala. Leaving them and going back to land would have been near unbearable except that we ended up with Daughter Middle and her family, including  six of our grandkids, with Daughter Youngest and yet another granddaughter living nearby. But now we are, at least for the time being, back living on a boat sans any family other than the two of us. So Daughter Eldest and clan drove to Oriental so see our new digs and, given my recent bout with mortality, to check on Grampy T.

During the time they were here, we took advantage of having a full crew of seasoned sailors on board for help and moved First Light over to our old marina for a pump out. Afterward, we headed out on the Neuse for a short cruise. It gave us a chance to bring the engines up to temp, power up all of the electronics, and me a chance to log two more approaches and landings at a pier. That brings my total up to five. Each time I am still forced to smile at how easy it is to handle this thing in close quarters.

It also gave our sailing family a chance to see our new-to-us boat in action, and to give to our new crew member a chance at the helm.

New crew member you say?

The next day they departed with three of our eleven grand kids. Grandson Eldest remained. He will travel with us for the next several months while logging time toward his Coast Guard Captain's license. He will also make working the boat a bit easier on me. He has lived on and sailed boats for a large chunk of his fourteen years, handled rough weather, fixed broken things, done route planning and weather checking, and knows the joys and challenges of life on the water. I would trust him at a helm far more than most of the weekend warriors who thrash their way along our waterways pretending to be “sailors”.

He is also, even if just temporarily, the first of the Grandkids to leave the parental nest and set out on his own extended adventure. So the goodbyes as the rest of the family headed back to their floating home in Florida were heartfelt, teary, and full of hugs and promises. It is a part of growing up mixed in with the reality of living the gypsy life of a long distance boater. It is also a turning point. For all involved there will be talk of life “before” and “after” Roo went off to sail on First Light.  A thought both exciting and just a bit daunting.

It will still be several weeks before we toss the lines with the intent of leaving Oriental. There are others of the family heading our way for a visit. I expect First Light will get a few more “dry runs” in nearby waters. Given that we are far from experts when it comes to trawler operations, getting all the practice we can while a dock remains close by and paid for seems like a good approach. Though First Light is in far better shape than she was when we bought her, she is still a boat. And, as a friend of mine put it just a few days ago, “If everything is working, it isn't a boat.” 

Life unfolds as it will, influenced by the choices we make. This particular change in plans came up suddenly, and will be an interesting chapter for a significant portion of our family. It can't be helped that such chapters often include teary goodbye. Another part of how life unfolds.   

Solving mysteries

One of the more challenging things about working on boats is the dreadful lack of documentation when it comes to the various systems on board. One would have a better chance of winning the lottery than finding up-to-date wiring diagrams, operations manuals, parts lists, and standard operating procedures (SOPs) for pretty much any boat I have ever been associated with. That would include all of the boats I laid tools on in more than a year of working in a boat yard. It certainly includes the five boats that have been part of my extended family's sailing experience; Nomad, Kintala, The Floating Bear, Blow'n In The Wind, and First Light.

The thought is that we may be getting First Light off the dock within the next few weeks. So it seemed a good idea to start working our way through all of the systems we haven't touched in a while, just to see what might need some attention before tossing the lines. First on that list was the electric anchor winch. I know it was checked as part of the survey but that was 18 months ago. I didn't actually operate the thing myself, nor was I watching when it was operated. Still, how much could be involved? Throw the breaker, pull the lock pin, hit the down switch, listen for the splash. 

No splash. Mmmm... 

That was with the switch at the lower helm. How about if we use the switch at the upper helm? Still no splash. But this time I could hear the control relays click. Mmmm... 

No power to the motor maybe? We do have a manual for that system. But it proved less than informative. The pretty basic line drawing that claimed to be a wiring diagram barely resembled the wiring I was trying to track down. The manual also had little to say about how to actually operate the system. Mmmm...

So, why no power to the motor? One might think there should be a good sized circuit protection device somewhere in that power wire. But we couldn't find one. What we did find or, more accurately remember, was that I discovered what looked like a power wire down by the battery box a couple of months ago that wasn't actually connected to the battery. With no idea what it was for, I stuck some heat shrink on the end and tucked it away. Why or how it had been disconnected was unknown, but there is nothing unique about finding a no-longer-used wired just lying around in a boat somewhere. Just about every boat I have ever worked on has had wires just laying around with no hint as to what they might have been used for once upon a time.

Still, a DC motor system with no power and an obvious power wire not connected? What else to do but hook it up and see what happens? (When we used to do that kind of thing back in the hangar, we would call out “SMOKE CHECK!” Everyone around would look for the telltale sign of something going seriously wrong.) There was no smoke, but no splash either. So, still no power to motor. Mmmm...

Disconnect the wire again and keep searching. A peak at the back of the upper helm switch showed three smaller wires attached. It was what one would expect and it made perfect sense. A peak at the back lower switch showed a big power wire attached to it, which made no sense at all. But what is this? Right next to the switch that made no sense is another that sure looks just like the back of the anchor switch on the upper helm. But, if so, why didn't I see we see two switches at the lower helm? Mmmm...

We poked around some more and found the switch hidden behind the rolled up American flag that is stowed up right next to the helm station door. Two switches. One for up and down, and one for? Power? But if that one is for power, what is the circuit breaker in the panel doing? Maybe that just powers up the control relays? Not sure why anyone would design the system that way but hey, it's a boat. Neither of the two lower helm switches were included in the wiring diagram, though it did show two foot switches and a remote control that are not actually a part of our system. Mmmm...

Well, let's try this. Connect the mystery power wire back to the battery, throw both the circuit breaker AND mystery switch, yell “SMOKE CHECK!” and see what happens. No Smoke and the satisfying sound of anchor chain being played out, complete with a splash. And not only splash, but an un-splash with a nice smooth pull that ended with the anchor slipping easily up onto the roller. As an added bonus the anchor can be deployed and retrieved from either helm station.

Mystery solved. 

Gremlin hunting

Getting the Dink lift system squared away slowed the project work on First Light to a crawl. Most of our days are filled with taking long walks in a beautiful space and practicing music on a variety of instruments. Which, one has to admit, is a quality of life most of the people sharing this little planet with me can't even imagine, let alone enjoy. Having access to life-saving technology expertly applied is another gift I'm not sure I deserved, but I am deeply grateful and clearly on the mend. We are not on our way North yet, but that is okay. Life unfolds as it will.  

During our walks we touched bases with new friends who were also trying to get underway. Their delays have all been mechanical rather than medical. With no projects underway on First Light and no longer being completely inoperative myself, pitching in on their projects offered a chance to be a little useful. One project was helping finish up a wiring project to improve their Dink lift system. Theirs is one of those boats where the Dink rests in a cradle up on the Fly Bridge deck. It is a big lift and having electrical winches providing the grunt was nigh onto necessary. If there is a better way to spend a nice day in a pretty place than helping out a friend with a fun project, I don't know what it might be.

The project went so well that the next afternoon they left the dock to anchor out, intending to head north early the next morning. The next morning, we watched from shore as the Dink lift system was put to its intended use. (They had towed the Dink out to anchor.) Then we helped out as they motored back to the marina and settled into a slip to address generator, charging, and bow thruster problems. It turns out a “dry run” out to anchor is not so much a misnomer as it is a good idea. I was already standing there so I offered a hand and a half of support. Once upon a time I was a reasonably good troubleshooter. They had a few problems that definitely needed shot. A few hours later and a fuel leak in the generator had been reduced to minor weeping. Still not fixed, but good enough to get the genset up and running so we could hunt down the surging problem and then the charging glitch. Those took just a little longer to corner than had the fuel leak, but soon enough both of those gremlins had been dispatched to gremlin heaven. And so we started hunting for the bow thruster gremlin.

It appeared all the wiring was okay, connections tight and correct. Given the fact that it had seemed to work the evening before, some thought was given to the gremlin having shoved something into the impeller. There was also some reasons to suspect the motor as the culprit, so it was pulled to be taken to the shop the next morning for a bench test. Come morning it passed with flying colors. No gremlin hiding there. Once reinstalled, additional searching commenced with a diver added to the hunting party. The impeller was unimpaired and the gear box spun freely. The controlling relays were checked and rechecked. Wiring was wrung with ohm and volt meters. But the Thruster Gremlin remained unscathed. Every part of the system had been throughly inspected, motor, rotor, wiring, connections, battery charge, control circuits and relays, all were checked and rechecked with nothing being found that was amiss. Yet the motor would barely come up with enough speed to push the bow. As the search went on a tickle, somewhere in the back of my rusty mechanic's mind, demanded attention. I knew I was missing something obvious but could not, for the life of me, come up with what it was. Any mechanic who has ever been armpits deep in a problem they couldn't explain will know exactly how I was feeling.

Thoroughly puzzled, and (perhaps) a bit frustrated, I pulled the covers off of the battery boxes and, as expected since they had been checked at least twice already, found nothing wrong with any of the connections. Voltage across the two batteries wired in series showed the expected full charge of 27+ volts. A reading verified by the app on the DC to DC charger tasked with keeping those batteries topped off. But something was wrong. The tickle turned into a mental head smack. I was looking right at the gremlin and still could not pick him out. (Those of you who figured out the problem a few sentences ago can now take a bow.) Not knowing exactly why, I brought the volt meter into play right at the power connection into the control box and had the system activated. The 27 volts immediately dropped to 5. The bell finally went off in my brain. Of course! What had been bothering me all along was simply the sound of the thruster made when the system was engaged. It was that of a DC motor struggling with too little juice to get the job done. How many hundreds of times have I heard that sound over the years? And how, pray tell, had I not recognized it during a full day of troubleshooting? 

I looked the batteries over again, this time with a jaundiced eye. The top of one appeared to be slightly distorted and freckled with fluid. A sticker on both batteries said "J6". A quick search by my parts guru suggested those were date stickers; Oct, 2016. Seven year old AGMs in a bow thruster install, and a motor trying to push the bow around with only 5 volts of shove available? The gremlin was now squarely in our sights. Purchasing and installing new batteries pulled the trigger and said gremlin was no more. The next morning we gathered at the slip for final goodbyes and to toss lines. The bow thruster growled with purpose and my friends were on their way North. I am as pleased with their successful departure as I will be when we eventually follow.

That is still a month or more away. Maybe, in the next couple of weeks, we will do a short “dry run” ourselves. Just motor a couple of hundred yards toward the bridge, drop the hook, spend a day or two, and see what mechanical critters come creeping out to play. Then head back to the dock to hunt them down and chase them off.