Changing Times and Unexpected Pleasures

After cruising on Kintala for six years, it's hard to overstate the difference in the lifestyle that being on a trawler as a Looper is, especially since we've entered the river system. On Kintala—mostly open ocean miles and the occasional ICW stint—life was pretty routine. Passages were long for the most part, and somewhat tedious, and on approaching land we almost never took a dock, choosing to anchor along the way, which was almost always a financially-based decision. On First Light, we've had to take a dock by mechanical necessity far more than we would have liked. But it must be said that the Looper lifestyle is much more about docks and much less about anchoring anyway.

Back when we were on Kintala, before Starlink, anchorages were pretty much a social affair. Dinghies zoomed back and forth between boats, a cooler of beverages and food to share stashed in the bottom. Sundowners lasted till the wee hours in whatever cockpit was large enough to handle whomever had been invited. The crowd was more diverse in age, with young people bringing the energy to the gathering that us older ones lacked. In recent months, we've been hearing reports from full-time cruisers from many different cruising grounds that with the advent of Starlink, those sundowners are rapidly disappearing. Cruisers are choosing to spend the time with a television instead of with each other, a trend that makes me glad that we retired early and got to experience the best of that community before it changed.

Whenever they happen (not often) in the Looper world, sundowners are classed as "docktails". Chairs are brought out to whatever dock happens to be the stop for the night and beverages of various types accompany the telling of stories. Sometimes there are picnic tables along a free wall that are utilized, and less often a trip to a local restaurant provides the venue. For the most part, the travel schedule is pretty relentless on The Loop, so the time after docking is sometimes filled with food shopping and dog walking instead of socializing. As a result, I often feel a bit unmoored and if it weren't for the fact that I'm traveling with my best friend of 52 years I would feel pretty isolated.

One thing that has really helped with the feeling of community has been Nebo, a tracking and chatting app that nearly all Loopers use. It provides incredibly detailed voyage logs so I don't have to do them anymore (They email it to you automatically at the end of every trip and a monthly summary to boot!), and has a chatting platform so you can converse with other Loopers near you. I will probably do a full review post later after we finish the trip but I have to say that it's probably the best $200 we spent in preparing for this trip.

This trip along the inland rivers has also highlighted the impact that climate change and the destruction of natural resources has had on the environment. We have seen much, much less wildlife of any kind on this trip than we did when cruising on Kintala.  Many less dolphins and birds on the ocean passage portion of the trip, and absolutely not a single evidence of wildlife along the Hudson and Mohawk rivers or the Erie Canal. I looked constantly along the shore at the trees that have fallen in the water and where one would expect there to be a line of turtles sunning on the log, there were none. No squirrels, no deer coming for a drink, and only two herons the whole way up the river. The only birds in proliferation were the Canada geese and I'm not entirely certain that there's anything that will kill those things.  To add to that, the history we've learned by stopping at museums along the way has us deeply concerned. There were two whole exhibits at the Hudson River Maritime museum just to address the pollution of the river from the PCBs that General Electric dumped into the river. There are huge signs in the museum warning that you cannot eat any fish you catch in the river. The beautiful Oneida Lake that we just crossed yesterday is the fifth most polluted lake in the United States.

People talk all the time about living in the moment, savoring each experience to the fullest, but after last year I believe we can claim to understand that philosophy in a manner better than most. So, in spite of all the changing times, the true joy for me in this adventure has been the unexpected pleasures we've encountered along the way. The scent of wet pine needles on the Erie Canal, the amazing walking trail in Little Falls, the mountains emerging from the fog, the stunning fireworks display in Amsterdam, the amazingly helpful, knowledgeable, and courteous people that we've met in businesses like Tim in Delaware City and JT in Kingston and Jamie at Lock 17 and Mike here in Phoenix, just to name a few. And the best of all was last night. A bit after six o'clock, a large group of folks started gathering under the pavilion in the park next to the boat carrying instruments of all sorts: wind instruments, brass instruments, percussion instruments...and as they set up an even larger group of town folk began to populate the park with lawn chairs and picnics and much laughter. We had the best seat in the house. Our boat is in the free wall not 50 feet from where the band was playing. I sat in the cockpit with a cold drink and my feet up and enjoyed the music for over two hours. What an absolutely delightful pleasure and so very unexpected. And that, my friends, is what living in the moment is all about.

 

Two days

First Light's starboard side engine has a never used (until yesterday) but (probably) 20 year old “new” fuel injection pump installed. After some efforts to purge the air, the engine rumbled to life without drooling a drop of fuel anywhere. Which helped lighten the mood around here a good bit.

Part of the procedure included setting the idle speed on the new pump. With the starboard side set, the tech suggested we start the port side to check its idle setting as well. Something I was about to ask him to do anyway. That side cranked to life and the next several minutes where spent getting the two engines as closely matched at idle as possible. They still shake like, well, like diesel engines. But all systems were reading normal and, for the first time in nearly a month, both the engines were rumbling in unison.

Upon shut-down, the tech started looking around to check everything and gather up all of his tools...and spotted water dripping off of the port side engine's heat exchanger. It was a good catch. A bit more poking around and he discovered that the water was leaking out of the forward connecting hose. One more bit of poking around and he discovered that hidden behind the leaking connecting hose was a smaller hose. The hose clamp on that smaller hose had been installed in such a way as the sharp bit that hangs off (and usually collects skin and leaves scars) had sliced its way into the bigger hose, causing the leak. (Have I mentioned that the techs around here have proven to be first class mechanics?)

My first thought was, “Are you kidding me? Not another problem?” And then, “What kind of bonehead installs something that way? A rubber hose shoved tight against an (almost) razor sharp bit of metal on a diesel engine that vibrates like a paint shaker? How dumb can you be?” But then another thought occurred.

We have been all over those engines since getting on the boat in Oak Harbor and then splashing it. That's how we found the fuel leak in the starboard engine in the first place. It is how we found the fuel leak in the generator as well. It is how we found a loose engine mount bolt, a couple of loose clamps, and a few loose battery terminals. There was no water laying in the port engine pan during any of our pre-departure checks before leaving Oak Harbor for Chesapeake City. None again when leaving Chesapeake City for here. And none during the start up and shut downs when getting our starting problem under control.  

It had to be a brand new leak that showed itself on the (planned) last test run of the engines before we pulled off the dock. Had it waited just a little while longer to rear its ugly head, we would have been somewhere on the Delaware Bay when the port side engine started to overheat. Or, had it waited a little longer yet, somewhere offshore between Cape May and New York—an engine failure in a place that might have presented a bit of a challenge.

As frustrating has these last few weeks have been, we couldn't have been in a better place to get this list of maintenance items taken care of. And there is this realization: First Light had been on the hard for more than four years before we launched it the first time. We did a lot of work before that first splash but, as we all know, boats do not like sitting on land. And being in the water is an entirely different environment. Last year we only got as far as Oriental before getting sidelined with minor things like cardiac arrests and shattered wrists. After that, we limped to Oak Harbor (with the help of Grandson Eldest) where the boat sat on the hard for another six months—far enough north for winter weather to be an issue and (bad choice on our part) in a marina that didn't allow boats on the hard to be hooked to power.

From Oak Harbor to Chesapeake City to Delaware City was just two (not particularly long) days of travel. It could be considered a kind of shakedown cruise and, well, it seems it shook a lot of things loose. Kind of the purpose.  (Though I am going to blame the starter and house battery failures on the marina where the boat spent the winter. Batteries that are left to go flat are batteries that will have to be replaced.)

This afternoon the damaged hose was replaced and the engine test run with no problems. The Tech asked if we wanted to do a sea trial with him along. That sounded like an excellent idea to us. About an hour later First Light was configured for being under way again. The engines rumbled to life, the lines were pulled in, and we idled down the canal being careful of the weekend boaters and jets drivers.

Once out in the river, I handed the helm over to the Tech. He ran the engines through their paces, up to an including a full power blast that had First Light squatting at her stern and making better than 11 knots. I didn't even want to think about how much fuel was running through that new pump. The engines ran fine with all gauges in the green and nothing leaking out of either one. How about that?

Once back at the dock, we pumped out and tied up for the night. The plan at the moment is to head off early in the morning and head for Cape May. It is likely we will be anchored there for a coupe of days waiting on a break to get the offshore part of this trip off our stern.

I have to admit that my first response to yet another failure was one of disappointment and discouragement. This has been a tough few weeks. But a more thoughtful reflection is that we have been extraordinarily lucky. Accepting each failure as just something that was better discovered here than out on the Atlantic somewhere several miles from shore and many miles from a safe anchorage or dock? I'm going to lean in that direction, emotions be damned. Take what happens. Make the best choice for the next moment based on what is happening in this moment. Then keep going. Is there any other real choice?

I still don't get it...

As I have said many times since we tied to the dock at Delaware City Marina, this marina crew is one of the best, most professional, and helpful we have run across. Sadly, the same can not be said for a few of the boaters that have tied up while we have been working our way though a list of mechanical problems.

This is how close the bridge is to our stern

For the fourth time since we have been here, First Light narrowly escaped being seriously damaged by a wayward boat. The fun started when Deb looked out over our foredeck and noticed that there was no one at the helm of the boat off our bow even though the engines were running. Not that unusual until she noticed that the Captain was standing on the dock and that he had already tossed both his bow and spring lines. They had been the lines holding his bow to the dock against the current. With them gone the boat was swinging out into the channel even as he freed the stern line. The swing continued until the swim platform was jammed against dock, pulling the stern line tight, which was all that was preventing his bow from swinging 180 degrees with the current and crashing into ours. And, let me say again, THERE WAS NO ONE AT THE HELM. Our intrepid  captain, having already undone the cleat knot, was in a tug of war with the current over the future of his boat, and ours. 

Deb and I jumped off our boat. Deb grabbed the stern line and ordered the Captain on the dock to get to the helm. He actually looked like he was going to argue with her, but I suspect the look in her eyes changed his mind and he got aboard. Once he got to the throttles she threw the line which was fortunately not knotted to the cleat and under too much pressure to untie. (Unlike one of the other near accidents.) But, since it was the wrong line in the wrong place, there still seemed to be little hope that he was going to clear either First Light or the bridge lying in wait maybe 100 feet away. I called for him to power forward. He hit the throttles hard, launching himself across the canal and shoving his bow into the trees on the far side. That turned out to be a good thing since the branches held his bow while the current pushed his stern enough that, when he hit reverse just as hard, he barely missed launching himself stern first into our boat. Then he powered forward (yep, near full power again) swinging wildly toward the dock. As he got power and helm under control we noticed the spring line trailing in the water on his port side. Apparently he had untied it without actually tossing it onto his boat.

At first it seemed impossible that it would not foul his port engine. Fortunately, the dock crew here has a habit of chain stitching excess line and laying it along the edge of the dock rather than coiling it and leaving it as a tripping hazard. It was pure good fortune that our wayward Captain had not undone the chain stitch when he untied his boat. The trailing line wasn't long enough to get into his shaft or prop. Another bit of good luck was that the water flow didn't undo the chain stitch either. With both engines still running, he managed to get speed and heading under control and, just like that, was no longer a danger to us. As for himself and anyone else on the water anywhere near him? No longer my problem.

It has been a couple of hours since that scare, and the jitters have mostly worn off. I am still baffled at the total lack of situational awareness. In the first place, I know he was at the Captain's briefing yesterday. A part of that briefing is the proper procedure to use when getting off this dock when the current is running with the ebb tide: i.e. on your bow but TOWARD THE BRIDGE.  It is easy and painless. Run a forward midship spring boat-to-cleat-to-boat. Start the engine(s) and have SOMEONE ON THE HELM. Pull the stern line as it isn't doing anything useful. Pull in the bow line and let the current ease the bow out into the channel pivoting on the spring. Ease the spring line if necessary to get the bow pointed past the boat ahead. Motor gently away and slowly retrieve the spring line. It is a simple maneuver. 

But even without the instructions, how could he not have noticed the current and realized what would happen if he left just the stern line attached? How did he not notice that his boat started moving the moment he freed the first of the two lines that were under pressure? How could he not be at or have someone at the helm? Just standing on the dock, looking at the current and the lines, how could he not see what was about to happen?

Human beings. I are one and I still don't get it.

This is the current speed as seen through one of our cleat horns near the waterline

A nice long empty dock with only two boats ahead of us, both highly qualified crews. Phew!

Left behind...

By 0730 the dock ahead of us was empty. All of the boats that were here over the weekend headed toward Cape May. Deb and I helped one after the other spring into the current, pull in the line, and motor gently off into what should be a near perfect day of cruising. As they left, I was mulling over the thought that I will be surprised if we are out of here anytime in the next two weeks. A realization that, for a couple of minutes, was pretty depressing. But then I remembered the year we spent with me working at Snead Island to try and fill the cruising kitty to keep going on Kintala. It was one of the toughest years of my life, probably shaved a few years off of my life and, in the end, we had to go back to land anyway as most of the money earned was swallowed up by the boat.

And yet that was also the year that Daughter Eldest and her family took to living on a boat along side of ours. The year we welcomed another grand daughter into the fold. The year two of my grandsons and I took regular “wizard walks”, exploring the shoreline and parks around the boatyard. The "wizard stick" they found for me to use as a walking stick, the one we carved, sanded, then finished with the varnish left over from doing the teak work on Kintala, is on First Light with us. 

It was a year I would never want to repeat, but one that I would not have wanted to miss. Compared to that? Being tied to this dock for this long really isn't much of a challenge. I am not punching a clock while working in the brutal heat of a Florida summer. Much as we enjoyed our time on Kintala, living on First Light is like living in a mansion in comparison.

I am also reminded of this truism. Living on a boat means giving up the relatively structured life that living on land usually becomes. Mostly isolated from the weather with basically set schedules for working, vacations, playing, shopping, doctor and dentist visits, doing the laundry and mowing the grass. Big changes that require rethinking the next few days are rare on land. On the water? Dock falls for laundry, food, water, pump out and shopping are moving targets, with weather and stores on board being the major determining factor. Mechanical breakdowns are common. Every cruiser has their tale of woe because a) moving water, particularly moving salt water, is the worst environment one can imagine for mechanical devices of any kind and, b) the boating industry's dedication to quality control insofar as manufacturing, post sales support, parts availability and work scheduling is nigh onto non-existent. It is also outrageously expensive. Stick the label "marine" on anything and the price goes up with no relationship as to the quality of the thing being offered.

New boats are no better than old boats. In the time we have been here I have talked with two owners of brand new boats who are struggling to get warranty items repaired. They are limping along as best they can, one with engine control problems and the other with navigation glitches. 

Fortunately there are exceptions, and there is hope on the horizon. We are currently tied to the dock of one of one of those exceptions. The folks here at Delaware City Marina are doing their best to help us get moving again. Imagining what we would be putting up with had this string of mechanical issues happened in some of the marinas and boat yards we have experienced over the years? That is the stuff of nightmares. 

Another exception has been British Diesel in England. Deb, working her parts magic with these folks, found us a brand new, correct part number pump across the water in England that comes with an installation kit. The price is both a bit startling but, at the same time, about what we expected. They are telling us it will be here in a few days, which is some serious magic of its own. Magic due to a hefty shipping bill. This has all happened in the last couple of hours so there is some serious assumptions going on that all of this will unfold without a hitch. If it does, there are mechanics working here that are qualified to install the thing.  

Still, I'll make no bets on when we will be on our way. In fact I'll make no bets that “being on our way” is, in any way, a sure thing. Last year's experiences cured me of that common human hubris. With Deb's parts magic, and the folks here, we are working on a good plan.  But each day will unfold as it will. We are meeting new people, seeing places we have never seen before, listening to the water and the wildlife. We are going up and down with the tide... physically  and figuratively. It is a good, if somewhat chaotic, way of life. We are doing the best we can with what is offered.

Ed Note: This email came from British Diesel within minutes of placing our order:

Hi Deb,

Thanks for your business. The pump we are supplying should arrive in 2-3 days according to DHL'S estimate. You will have to keep an eye out for an email. The tracking details will be provided in the next email.

For your information, we checked on the Cummins Database, they do not have new units available but they can supply a repaired injection pump for a whopping $8841 dollars plus $640.00 plus $75 shipping cost (14 days delivery time).  

So by dealing with us you have saved nearly $6750.00 plus the injection will arrive 12 days earlier than what Cummins are quoting, also the pump we are supplying is brand new and genuine. (I hope you guys buy yourselves something nice).

Best regards,

Sam

A pretty good day...

It is a little frustrating not to be of much use getting First Light off the dock. Hired guns replaced the start battery, start solenoid, house bank, and current limiter. My contributions in doing actual maintenance since we tied up here have been modest. Helping Deb with putting a service kit in the head pump and running a string of LED lights in the salon about covers it. With the latest major project having been finished the day before, yesterday was “look for the fuel leak in the generator and the starboard side engine" day. Something it seemed I could do without too much trouble that might not take much time or effort to fix.

Another weather window missed

So we opened the floor and I climbed down into the hole to pull the cover off of the Generator. With ear plugs in and flashlight in hand, Deb fired it up. It took about 15 minutes but I found some fuel weeping out of a banjo fitting. It wasn't much but, when not on the dock, we run the generator for an hour or more in the evenings, enough time to for even a small leak to accumulate an unacceptable amount of fuel. We shut it down.

Then we fired up the starboard engine. In way less than a minute fuel was drooling down the engine case. The source of the drool was clearly coming off something mounted in the high pressure fuel pump that had a wire attached to its end. Fuel dripping over a wire. Not something I like to see. A single wire suggested it was either a sensor or a solenoid of some kind, but I had no idea what its actual function might be. The amount of fuel being leaked was simply too much to even think about not fixing. 

After some discussion as to the best course of action, I pulled the bolt out of the generator banjo fitting to see what I might see. Deb started working her parts finding magic.

The parts manual for the generator listed the banjo bolt seal as an o-ring. I found a crush washer. The marina had a crush washer in stock that fit and the access was pretty easy. With the new one installed and the generator rumbling away, where I had seen fuel seeping before I didn't see any fuel seeping at all. Even after a 15 minute run. I'm not totally convinced that is the only leak. But it was the only one I could find. We will be pulling the cover off of the generator with every engine room check from now on.

Though the leak in the engine was much easier to find, getting it fixed looks like is going to be a much bigger deal. Since we could see where the leak was originating, our first thought was that changing the solenoid would be the fix. Deb worked her magic and we have a solenoid heading this way, to be delivered on Tuesday. But she did some deeper research in an attempt to verify that we actually have the right part coming and managed to track down and talk to a parts/tech person in England who works for Lucas, the manufacturer of the pump itself, which is mounted on the Cummins engine. According to the Lucas tech, a leak in this area should be addressed by replacing the pump as the leak's real origin likely lay in the head rotor of the pump. Which will, eventually, lead to a catastrophic failure of the pump and engine. I know just enough about diesel engines to know he has a point. Unfortunately the pump in question isn't that easy to source. These are old, though very popular, engines. Which, somehow, ends up meaning parts are not particularly easy to find. So, even though we have a solenoid on its way, we may actually be here for the better part of two weeks waiting for a pump. Something we will not know until the weekend is over.

The leaking stop solenoid

Access for the solenoid not so great but if we have to change the whole pump at least it's the accessible one, not the one on the port engine that would require threading a body between the engine, fuel pump, engine intake strainers, and fuel tank.

I had to use my nifty new fiber optic scope camera to get the part number off the pump.

The next question is, will I be able to replace it?  But I am not near the wizard I used to be when I fixed airplanes for a living. Reaching and replacing the part looks like it may require removing much of the fuel manifold and associated lines for access. Or we may be replacing the entire pump. Either of which could mean needing an unknown collection of seals, crush washers, and “O” rings to reassemble. Since it will mean playing with the very heart of the fuel system there may also be a particular procedure necessary for replacing it without doing more harm than good. Deb worked her magic once again and found a maintenance manual for the engine. In it I found a step by procedure for replacing the pump, along with a list of special tools required. After some mechanic soul searching it was obvious. I should no more attempt to replace that pump than a marine mechanic should attempt a hot section on a P&W PT6 turbo prop engine. So, come Tuesday, we will open yet another work order to have the pump replaced by someone who knows what they are doing.  

But hey, it looks like I might have fixed the generator. At the end of the day we were lounging in the salon. Deb allowed that it was a pretty good day. We are still on the dock with money draining away almost as fast as the calendar. But she is right. It was a pretty good day. We did what we could do, made what we think are the right decisions. And that's the best that anyone can do. As for my mechanic's pride? Ah well, no one can fix everything. (Actually, my next youngest brother might be the exception to that rule. He is one of the most talented mechanics I have ever seen. Another of which is my youngest brother who is also far better than your average wrench bender. Me? I just fixed airplanes.)

Progress!?

Last night the marina got pounded in heavy rain, maybe a little hail, and we sat through one tornado warning. Not sure what one is supposed to do with a tornado warning while on a boat. We huddled in the forward berth figuring that was about the best we could do. Whatever it was that spooked the weather watchers apparently passed to our south. The shore power flicked off for a few brief moments but that was it.

It took a good part of the day but the house battery bank along with the main current limiter and its power cable to the batteries have been replaced. As a result, all of our DC power circuits are working like they should without the lights going dim. It was reported that one of the old batteries was much, much lighter than the rest. All the magic electrical juice had disappeared. Thus the reason for our dimming lights and slow running pumps.

I say “reported” as I stayed out of the way of the young buck doing the repair. Which felt kind of weird. Wiring up a house bank of four six volt batteries into a twelve volt bank falls into the category of “electrical work 101”. But a pacemaker and 68 year old bones, joints, and back lifting those batteries in and out of the hole? They say discretion is the better part of valor. I'm not entirely sure I know what that means but it sounds like a good reason to let someone else handle the physical work. At least I was right about what was wrong.

Still, I am not entirely useless. Tomorrow will be the hunt for the last of the items currently on “The List.” Those being fuel leaks in the gen-set and starboard engine. Could be easy. Could be not so easy. They both appear to be leaks on the high pressure side of the fuel injection system so It will certainly be loud and hot trying to track them down. But as to the rest? Just have to see.

So when will “progress” be measured in miles under the keel rather than items off of the list? Not sure. It doesn't look like there is a weather window for going up the coast for a few days yet. But there is a big “Loopers Gathering” here this weekend. We may just hang around for the party. 

I don't think the mechanic will need to go to the gym after work today.

Out with the old...

...and in with the new.

The burn mark on the plastic cover was there way before we bought the boat.

The corrosion on the current limiter was not.

I loves me some Kady Krogen

Too close for comfort - TWICE!

We will be here for a little while as our electrical system gets brought back up fully functional. It looks like a new set of house batteries and a preventative replacement of the current limiter will have us up and running again. Like the starter battery, the house bank appears to be holding a charge right up until you put a load on it. Then the voltage drops like an anchor and everything goes dim. So it seems likely that leaving the boat in a yard that prohibited boats on the hard from being hooked up to power was a very expensive, and wrong, choice. It isn't a mistake I plan on repeating. In any case, it isn't likely the work will be finished today but we are making progress.

During the trouble shooting, I learned something new about the system. Two of the three volt meters we have on the boat were reading a full, no load charge of 14v, which agreed with the volt meter the mechanic was using to read the batteries directly. The third, which looks like the original analog meter in the electrical control panel, was reading 9v. At first I thought it was an ancient gauge that should probably be changed. But the mechanic spotted an open circuit breaker that I had missed yesterday when poking around myself. As soon a he closed it the 9v reading jumped right up to match the others. That seemed promising but, clearly, that volt meter is reading something other than the house bank voltage that both the solar controller and the inverter / charger controller are reading. But if I look at that meter and see it reading low, I'l know that breaker is open for some reason.

In the midst of this morning's goings on the marina folks asked if they could move our boat back closer to the boat behind us, making for a space big enough off our bow for another boat. The weather forecast suggests they are going to need all the room they can get for boats looking for a place to hide starting this afternoon. So, sure, no problem.

A little while later we saw another boat heading down the channel our way, the current running strong behind him. On the dock were marina personal ready to help him tie too. I'm not sure exactly what when wrong or who wasn't listening to who. But somehow the inbound boat got skewed stern close to the dock with the bow out in the current, a current that had him heading in our direction at a speed that all but ensured we were about to take a solid hit. The kind that causes major damage and ends trips. I called to Deb to hold on as she had moved out on the foredeck. She was calling the same thing to me.

Somehow, at the very last second, one of the guys on the dock got a hand on the starboard side stern line of the inbound crash boat and lashed it around a cleat with some magic flick of the wrist without even bending over. (I gotta learn how to do that some day!) The pressure on the line would surely have dragged our hero into the water. In fact I'm impressed that the cleat held. But it did. (Have I mentioned that this is a first class marina?) The line caught, stretched, and recoiled. The wayward boat's bow swung into the dock, so close to ours that our anchors banged together. But nothing got tangled up and no damage was done. Inches...we are talking inches, and the bow pulpit would have been ripped out of the foredeck, ending this trip right here.

But—no harm, no foul. I have certainly botched my share of approaches to a dock. As it turns out, the Captain on the wayward boat, who stopped by to apologize for the scare, doesn't have much experience with his new-to-him-trawler or with the kind of currents common to these parts.

So there I was, standing in the galley to pour a splash of rum. I looked up to see a sailboat gliding down the canal riding the ebb tide current. As I watched he tried to turn to starboard to turn his boat around, getting him broadside to the current. Deb and I jumped off our boat to see what we could do to help but he swept past our boat headed for the bridge less than 100 feet away. He got the boat moving forward and was then aimed to skewer the boat behind us, whose crew was sitting in their aft porch unaware they were about to be in an accident. At the last possible moment his tiny outboard managed to swing his bow up into the current, which had him aimed at First Light's hull. He came around just enough to brush by without actually leaving any marks but the current nearly had him stopped. By then the people on the boat in front of us had joined in the group of people trying to get this guy on the dock without damage. He started to aim is bow at the dock but Deb managed to talk him into keeping his bow into the current. Had he turned, he would have certainly crashed into the bow of the boat in front of us. He finally got abeam of the empty spot on the dock and tossed me a bow line. With that we got him forward and tied too. 

I'm glad this day is over and I hope nobody else tries to get in here tonight. I'm not sure I would handle another close call with any kind of aplomb.

No video because we were too busy fending off, but here's a pretty

photo for your enjoyment. I loves me some Maincat 47P!!

Here we don't go...again

Last night before going to the berth, I was working on a writing project with our newly installed salon LED lights aglow. We had done all the pre-departure prep work we could. Come morning all that was left to do was close the hatches, power up the helm station, toss the lines, and go. We were feeling pretty good. But then Deb pushed the button to flush the head. The electric macerator pump groaned but didn't flush, accompanied by all the lights in the boat going out. They came right back on but still, something was clearly amiss.

Our first thought was that we had replaced the seals and impeller in a head pump whose motor was going bad. But while mulling over the fact that our morning's departure wasn't very likely (since an operative head is kind of important) the boat's main water pump came on and the lights went dim again. Then the fridge tried to power up with the same result. There was no choice but to power down the DC panel and, this morning, open another work order.

Once upon a time, I was a pretty good electrical tech. But a pacemaker and stray electricity are not particularly compatible. Also, a reasonable guess is that the house battery bank has gone the way of the engine start battery. Hefting those things out of the hole is another task I probably shouldn't attempt if that is, indeed, the case. No matter what the actual cause, it will, as usual, take some time to gather whatever parts are necessary to the repair. It may also be a day or so before a tech will be available. Weekends, when all the pleasure boaters are out performing their stupid boater tricks, the techs are around to help clean up the carnage. They get Mondays off. So we are going to miss yet another perfect weather window.

While poking around looking for some obvious reason the DC system croaked, Deb noticed that the ship's water system strainer needed cleaned. As usual, cleaning it meant leaking a bunch of water so, when she was done, she went aft to clean up where it tends to pool under the dripless seals near the gen-set. While there, she thought she smelled fuel and asked me to check. Sure enough, the pan in the get-set was, once again, filled with soaked fuel diapers. This time, rather than a low pressure leak at the fuel pump inlet, there appeared to be a leak at a plastic plug at the top of the fuel filter housing. I got about a half turn out of that plug and, as soon as the electrical system is squared away, we will run the generator to make sure fuel isn't leaking from somewhere else.

I've lost track of the list of items that have kept us on this dock. On the one hand, it is getting to be a bit of a challenge to just keep rolling with this seemingly endless string of punches. On the other, what choice is there? The boat is our second home. It needs to be in St. Louis. The only ways to get it there are by water or truck. After trucking Kintala to the ocean I swore I'd never make that mistake again. It was expensive and the boat was damaged. Damage that nearly sank the boat and took several hard days of work to repair. But, if we get delayed too much more, there may not be enough time to get off the Great Lakes before winter. First Light is the definition of the proverbial “slow boat to China”. We really need to start logging miles under the keel pretty soon. “Pretty soon” as in last week.

Putting the boat up on the hard for yet another winter is something we really can't afford to do again. It is expensive in its own right. Worse, every time we do, there is the additional costs of getting it back into running order again. It may turn out that leaving the boat in a yard for six months that wouldn't allow it to be hooked to shore power is what trashed all of the relatively new batteries. Maybe this current (no pun intended) problem is something entirely different that simply popped up in the last couple of days. Who knows? What we do know is that we will be enjoying the Delaware City Marina for a couple of more days, at best. We may yet end up with the truck option, but that is not a decision to make in the midst of a mechanical maelstrom.

There is another thought as well. Within the last 12 hours, two friends of ours have taken serious blows far worse than our mechanical glitches. One lost a Son to an act of violence last night. The other, a member of the LBGTQ community and a good friend, (who was also instrumental in me surviving a cardiac arrest about a year ago) received a hate mail threat that was serious enough to be passed along to the police. Another good friend is still coming to terms with having lost his wife and being badly injured himself in a boating accident.

All we are dealing with is a broken boat that is going to cost us some money and a trip delay or, at worst, a cancellation. Yeah, hardly something to get too wound up about. Drink some coffee. Toast the sunrise. Get on with the day.

Departure Day!

...Or not.

Today was the day to be on our way. All pre-departure check lists run. A review of how we were getting off the dock with the slight current was made. All lines set, water tanks full, shore power stored away. Upper and lower helms powered up, chart plotters loaded with the route, batteries fully charged, everything stowed, all hatches closed.

The port side engine chuffed to life. The starboard side engine... The starboard side engine... Dead slow turn, no start. Emergency battery switch to “Both”. It almost felt like it was going to start but...no Even if had started, is that good enough? The next few stops are anchor stops. Dock fees north of us are also north of our budget. What if it will not start at anchor? Also, this place has maintenance and we know we can trust them. North of us, no clue. And then there is the weather. All indications are that, if we had made Cape May today we would be sitting either there or in Atlantic City for several days waiting out the weather. The larger picture suggests that leaving here today or leaving here a few days from now will not make any difference as to when we get to the Hudson River.

No, that is not my old bones wedged around that engine

It is my experience that it is rare that everything is working on any live-a-board boat when it leaves the dock. Kintala, First Light, friends' and customers' boats. If everything was reported as working perfectly that usually meant that someone didn't know something. There are a lot of things that can be broken that don't make the boat unsafe, but this boat had an intermittent engine so, it was rather seriously broken. Back in my aviation days I had a reputation for flying just about anything just about anywhere it needed to go to get fixed. But even I never took to the sky in an airplane where half the engines wouldn't start. Though, truth be told, I did launch a couple of times with engines that didn't keep running. Fortunately, except for one time, I always had two when that happened. The one time I only had one I was already over an airport. So that was just a glider landing. Anyway...

Leaving the dock in a seriously broken boat going "out there" is just silly. When we are “out there”, moving or on the hook, we are off the grid. Being off the grid and being seriously broken at the same time? Been there. Done that. Going to do my best never to do that again.

I was, shall we say, a little disappointed, particularly when the boats around us stated dropping lines and heading out. Rue the way life unfolds sometimes, but then? Drink a little coffee. Toast the sunrise. Take some pleasure out of making a good if really (really) annoying choice. Suck it up. Shrug it off. Next?

“Next” was getting a mechanic down in the hole. (Yes, a mechanic on a weekend!) Obviously the first step was to hit the starter button so he could hear what had happened. I did. He didn't. The starboard engine fired up almost instantly. So did the port side. Shut them down. Try again. Same result. Are you kidding me? One thing I know for an absolute certainty is that broken things don't fix themselves. I also know that intermittent problems are the worst. 

My original thought was starter or start relay. I have seen intermittent failures of those more times in my life than I can remember. But two starters and two relays at the exact same time? Don't bet on that. 

Another thought was the start battery, though intermittent batteries are a bit of a stretch. The things either have and hold electric juice, or they don't.  Besides, First Light has an emergency start system that ties starter and house bank together. We tried it and it didn't make any difference.

In the time that had passed between us trying to leave and when the mechanic climbed down in the hole, we had hooked back up to shore power. Is that why it started? But that didn't really add up as the boat had been on shore power for days until this morning meaning the battery should have been just a juiced as it was when the mechanic climbed down in the hole. Still, a test of the start battery suggested that it is near, if not a little past, its service life. It will take a full charge but, the instant you put a load on it, the voltage falls away. Why the battery failed early in the morning after being on the charger all night, but not after couple of hours on the charger after the aborted starts?  Beats me.

Another mechanics (two - on a weekend!) jumped in his car and headed off to get us a battery. The lead tech crawled back into the hole and changed the start relay on the starboard side. They had one in stock and the one on the engine looked to be an original part with a few rusty bits. When the battery was delivered I stayed out of the way while the two mechanics wrestled the old battery out and the new battery in. This beat up old bod of mine isn't up to that kind of task down in that kind of hole. With the new parts installed, both engines started just like they should. After a long look at the weather we decided that Monday is the next (planned) departure day.

I have to admit watching the boats parade out of here this morning was a bit depressing. But two of them who are traveling together came back. One of them hip tied to a Tow Boat US due to an overheating engine. His will not be quite as quick a fix as his parts will not arrive until tomorrow.  So, all in all, a trying day that ended up as good as it could. Tomorrow? Who knows?

Delaware City Marina Review

This was one of the very best stops we've ever made in many many years of cruising. From the first moment, the staff was courteous, knowledgable, professional and welcoming. The canal is narrow and has a strong current, but if you follow their detailed instructions it is very easy. The canal is well protected during any weather or wind state.

The day before arriving, call them on the phone to arrange dockage. They will instruct you to call again once you leave the C&D Canal. At that point they will instruct you to call on the radio as you arrive at Red 6A. They will then instruct you to stay within 40 feet of Green 1 then angle over toward the ferry dock and proceed down the canal. The marina is 4 long face docks to starboard. Be aware of the boat launch to port as you come down the canal, especially on the weekends as it's a very busy boat launch. The fourth dock is for transients with gas/diesel/ and a very strong pump-out at the head of the dock. Once you depart the fuel dock they will guide you to your place on the face dock and tie you up. Then they will turn your boat around using lines so that you are faced back out the channel for your departure. The whole process was quick and completely painless. Zach brought us in, but Charlie and Chris and Tim all handle the docking and are all extremely proficient. They have years of experience at this, so pay attention and all will be well.

As to the facilities: The docks are floating and in excellent condition. Power pedestals are well kept. Water is at the dock with excellent pressure even at the very end of the dock. The restrooms are clean and modern and well supplied. The laundry has two washers and two dryers at $1.50 each (2024). They are well maintained and efficient. The store at the office is well supplied with basic parts and if you need anything else most can be had by the next day. There are some snacks and ice and there is a small convenience mart a short walk away as well as many restaurants all within walking distance. It is a very pet friendly marina.

If you are a history buff, there are many historical markers to study along the canal walkway. You can also ride the ferry over to Fort Delaware where they have a Civil War reenactment. Ferry prices are reasonable at $12 each. You cannot land a private boat on the island where the fort is located.

As to the personnel: Tim Konkus, the owner, was unbelievably knowledgable and supportive throughout our outboard repair. He is the primary presenter for their daily weather briefing and route planning from the marina to Cape May down the Delaware River. The briefing was well written and full of helpful information for this area unfamiliar to us and delivered with a bit of humor. Foster, the harbor host for the area, also contributes frequently at the briefing with a lot of useful information and Zach and Charlie also present the briefing on occasion. Charlie, Zach, and Chris were very proficient at handling the docking and turning of the boats and very courteous.

As to the maintenance facility: Pricing was fair and the work was quality. The marina has a travel lift that can haul and launch even larger boats. There is a small storage yard. John is a Yamaha factory trained technician and was able to repair our Yamaha F9.9 outboard. While I don't know all the technicians that work here in the shop, the two I dealt with—John and James—were two of the most polite young men I've ever had the pleasure of dealing with in the marine industry. Having worked in customer service for over 30 years I can always tell the caliber of a manager by the quality of the people who work for him and by the camaraderie among the employees. Tim is clearly an excellent manager because this staff works well together and gets the job done.

I can't say enough good about this place. While we would have preferred not to be sitting here for ten days waiting on parts, it was a great place to be—entertaining, excellent services, great people, and a safe place for the boat. Highly recommend this as a stop.

Tim Konkus doing the weather briefing

Success!

We have success! The Dink has motivation. I walked up to the marina office this morning to discuss some kind of alternative to getting us back underway. One we had in mind was to rent a car, drive to the nearest Suzuki dealer, buy a new engine for about the same amount of money has we have already spent sitting here trying to get the Yamaha fixed, and be on our way. We would leave the Yamaha for them to do with as they pleased.

Much to my surprise I walked into the shop and there was the Yamaha puttering contently in the work stand. Not too long after that is was mounted back on the Dink and puttering contently once again. Some thought was given to making a hurried departure and being on our way to Cape May. When I say “some” I mean about 10 seconds worth. Pretty much every time we have made a hurried departure the day turned sour. There was weather that looked like it might catch us out in the middle of the bay and still and hour or more from our destination. More reason to spend another day or two here. But, knowing that we can leave rather than wondering when we will be able to leave makes all the difference. Besides, there was still a smelly leak in the head that would have been more than a little irritating to most people, let alone a couple of perfectionists. (Next to outboard motors marine heads have to be considered one of the most relentlessly troublesome and irritating systems on a boat.)

So, with nothing else much to do, Deb started the disassembly process. I offered to help but, truth to tell, the head on First Light is single occupancy only regardless of the purpose for the visit. Envision rebuilding anything mechanical and pretty gross while in a smelly phone booth with the door shut, and you will have a good idea of what kind of day she had. I kept asking if she needed anything and was around to help out any way I could. Which was mostly by reviewing the YouTube vid on the process and handing her parts and tools. By days end the head was working so much better, wasn't leaking any more, and the ambiance in First Light was much improved.

So now we are just waiting on the weather. One of the really helpful things about being at the Delaware City Marina is the daily “Captain's Meeting.” Each day at 1600 local they pull up the weather forecasts while offering the best information available, that of local knowledge. They know all the shallow spots, where and how the commercial traffic will be moving, the best bail out options in the bay, what the currents and tides do, and how those interact with prevailing winds to determine what kind of day it will be for those traveling by Looper style boats. Today's discussion suggested that tomorrow will be an okay day to go. But Deb and I are both pilots who spent nearly 6 years living on Kintala. We listen to what others have to offer but we make all own weather decisions. Our look at the weather suggested that tomorrow might be an okay day to go. At this moment there is a cold front lurking less than 100 miles to our west inbound. Two of the weather apps we use are suggesting winds in the 10 to 15 knot range for much of tomorrow. Ten to fifteen makes a sailboater smile. So far our experience suggest that 10 to 15 knots in 42 foot trawler, particularly with miles and miles of fetch, will make a trawler crew wish they were somewhere else. Have the wind and currents going nose to nose rather than moving side by side and the trawler crew will definitely wish they were somewhere else. So we are likely to be here another day or so. Still...

Success!

Patience

So the Yamaha that we hoped to have hanging on the back of the Dink today is still dead. It will be dead for some unknown amount of time yet. It looks like even a day's delay will lead to yet a longer delay as tomorrow's weather window is a one day only offer. The next opportunity to head down the bay without getting beat up by waves and wind? Maybe Thursday. Maybe Friday. Maybe not.

How did we get here? The first new part we ordered was the wrong part. The second new part that we ordered was delivered over a holiday weekend and wasn't installed until this morning. The engine ran for two minutes, died, and would not restart. The current theory is that a control module failure of some kind fried the first charge coil when we were in Chesapeake City. Now it has done in the new replacement charge coil as well. So a new control module and another new charge coil is on order. The new control module is due in tomorrow. A new charge coil? That remains a mystery. In the meantime, the fancy motor mount bracket on the dink remains empty.

One of the many things I didn't know about living on a boat is that it will leave one with just two options. Option first is to completely lose one's mind. Option second is to become a paragon of patience, acceptance, and calmness. I am caught somewhere in between the two. I haven't quite lost my mind. But it may have been temporarily misplaced. I am certainly not any kind of paragon of patience. But I don't have much choice in the matter. The fact is the world will unfold as it will with zero regard as to how I want, or intend, for it to unfold. All I can do is try to make the best decisions based on what I know at this very moment. That the next moment may render those decisions null and void is simply how the world works. It is how the world works for everyone.

So we will sit here for a while yet, holding with the idea that getting this motor fixed, whatever it takes and however long it takes, is the best decision. Had we known the future we could have spent the dock fees we have spent here at docks at the the end of each of the legs coming up. Had we done that we would likely be somewhere in the Hudson River right now, moving away from the coast and done with big water until we get to the Great Lakes. But that isn't what happened. So I guess, so long as we are sitting here watching our decisions fade into a past that didn't happen, I might as well hunt around and see if I can find what little of my mind remains.

We spend a lot of time doing this...

And cleaning things like the very very dirty bug/sun screens

And exploring the Delaware Fort State Park where we found this diving bell. I kid you not, someone had to be lowered under the water in this thing to do repairs on the locks. The only air they had was what was in the bell. Yikes.

And we watch the constant parade of boats that go by

Mostly I sit in the cockpit enjoying the breeze blowing down the side deck while I read and do my Duolingo Spanish lessons.

A view from the flybridge