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

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

Moving Day

It is the last day in our little apartment for most of the rest of the year. The trailer is packed and waiting to go. Deb is doing last minute cleanups where I help by mostly trying to stay out of the way or doing whatever she needs help doing.

The plan is to be out the door no later than 0700 tomorrow to start the two day drive; though I am not at all sure we can do it in two days. My normal running speed on this trip is right against the speed limit. (Honest officer!) In a borrowed car and towing a trailer my guess is those (ahem) doing the speed limit will pass us like we are parked. The 15 hour drive time will be closer to 20. In addition we will have Grand daughter youngest along which will certainly add stops. Deb has an additional stop planned at Pilot Mountain State Park, the one we visited on a previous trip when the boys were along. It is really too wonderful a place to drive past when there are grandkids in the car. But we are in no hurry. I have already switched to cruiser standard time, which is the next best thing to no time at all. Tides, weather, currents, locks, bridges, and broken boat bits decide when and how far one goes when traveling by boat. To a long distance boater, discretion and a willingness to roll with the punches are the only parts of valor that matter.

Getting this close to returning to the water had me going back and reading a good portion of this blog. It always had a dual purpose. The first was to keep family and friends informed of where we were and what we were doing. The second was to share our adventures and challenges with those who might be considering a similar journey. We were as honest as we could be with both the ups and downs of full time cruising. Since we are about to drop the dock lines again after a nearly 5 year stint on land, a review of what we encountered that last time out seemed reasonable.

To be honest it provoked a few thoughts of “Why are we doing this again?” In the nearly 6 years we out the first time, less than half was spent wandering the Islands / ICW or anchored out in pretty places while rocking in the hammock and watching the world drift by. Most of the time we were dock bound fixing broken things, struggling to get to a dock to fix broken things, waiting out and/or hiding from weather, or holed up somewhere doing some of the toughest work I have ever done to refill the cruising kitty so we could keep going. (And, as always, fixing broken things.) Looking back it is a wonder that we managed to keep going as long as we did. Reviewing the challenges it took just to get Kintala to big water and underway had me wondering how we managed to get going at all. And yet here we are, eager to get back on the water to do it again.

There are a few differences this time around. Though we are not salted sailors like friends who have thousands of miles under their keels and ocean crossings in their logs, we are not newbies either. We have been this way before, are carrying Coast Guard licenses, and have taken a full measure of both the good and the bad of the marine industry. We know what questions to ask and, even more important, know when the answers we get are...shall we say...questionable. That doesn't mean I expect moving First Light half way around the Great Loop is going to be a breeze. Just getting her in the water was a year long struggle...but it was one we expected. Something that makes a huge difference. A good sign is that our experience with brokers, marinas, and contractors has been near the exact opposite what we struggled through with Kintala. I suspect they have all been just a different class of people than those we encountered at the beginning of our first sail. On the other hand, maybe we just sensed when trouble was afoot and immediately started looking for a fix or an alternate before things got out of hand. 

Another difference is that First Light is a trawler. Though I am going to guess that trawler living has its unique challenges, as a general rule I expect it to be far less taxing than was trying to cover miles on a 42 foot, underpowered and wayward handling sailboat with a 62 foot mast and massive sails. Particularly since this trip is going to be largely along the ICW and inland waterways. (Though I would not be surprised if the Great Lakes have me wishing that mast and those sails were at hand.)

In any case...here we go again. 

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

It has been more than a year since we purchased First Light. Having her on the hard this long was not part of the plan...not that we had much of a plan. When we left Kintala, our intent (plan if you will) was to get back on the water as soon as we could after my two year commitment to the job was over. We knew it would be in a different boat, exactly what kind still to be determined. Once we were back on the water roughly half a year would be spent cruising with the family we left behind living on their own boat. The other half would be spent here in St. Louis, enjoying the life that has unfolded here. It would be the the aquatic equivalent to the retired couple who takes to RV living, bouncing around the country to catch up with the people they love scattered across the country. It has been nearly four years since we returned to land; buying First Light was a commitment to making it back "out there."

As the months went by, we managed multiple trips to our new-to-us trawler. Trips spent (as was expected) getting the thing ready to splash. And we are getting close. But life has a way of changing things up. The family that lived on a boat now lives in Kansas. Kansas, as you might be aware, is far, far, (far) away from anything like big water. Indeed, it is about as far away as one can get from the water while living in the US of A. This required some serious rethinking about how we wanted to go about living.

Our first adventure of full time cruising meant more than half a decade of seeing the people we love most in the world just two or three times a year. Being away from growing grandkids was a heavy burden that came with the lifestyle. Until then, I had never faced that kind of heart ache. It was serious. More than once tears flowed while sitting in a beautiful anchorage, thinking of those far away. Facing the same kind of goodbyes that came with our first foray onto the water did not hold much allure. Going back to it only worked when leaving our land-based family was temporary, while the other side of the equation meant pulling up to our water based family and dropping anchor next to them. 

Then again, even with the heart ache, and having no family to meet "out there," being land locked for the rest of our lives doesn't hold much allure either. So the long debates started. What do do with First Light, how to make this work? How to balance being drawn in two opposite directions? How to be with family and still satisfy the wanderlust that resides deep in both our our souls? 

It was always assumed that, when our return to full time cruising no longer made sense, First Light would end up on a dock not too far from St. Louis. So, a few weeks ago and still not knowing what the short term plan might be, we did some looking at the long term. A weekend spent scoping out the marinas along the rivers surrounding St. Louis ended in Alton, IL. After a little bit of debate we decided that Alton would, eventually, be First Light's semipermanent home. It is within easy reach of our land side St. Louis home. There are rivers to explore with places to anchor out for long weekends. And there is a massive lake just a day or two's journey way. We could, when we felt like it, just spend time on First Light while on the dock, living the boat life and heading out for an adventure whenever we felt the need. First Light will become our (floating) cabin out in the woods. But between now and then? No real clue.

Things putter along as things tend to do. We set tentative plans to depart sometime late this year, literally within the next several weeks. The thought was we would take First Light to the Islands one more time, then bounce around for a while. Eventually we would head back to the States, wander around the Keys, along the West coast of Florida, and up the rivers, and end up back in St. Louis. We would be doing the bottom half of the great loop, only going backwards and against the current. Once in St. Louis we would take up our no-longer-full-time-cruisers lifestyle. But there was one little hitch in that plan. What to do with me after we settled in? 

We have survived these last few years on land because of a few very fortunate breaks. The first was that of ending up in a perfect living arrangement. A small apartment literally just yards aways from family we love and deeply missed during our years on Kintala fit our minimalist lifestyle. And second, I ended up at a job that is interesting, basically painless (unusual for jobs in my experience) and pays pretty well. That last is important for two reasons. The first is, not to put too fine a point on it, the world is a seriously screwed up place at the moment. Having options because we also have resources available just feels like the smart thing to do. And the second? Deb is pretty sure (and I happen to agree) that me being land locked without something like work to keep me occupied and challenged, would be...shall we say, difficult? As someone once said, "Getting married is for better or worse, but not for lunch." 

The logical choice, at least for a while, would be for me to keep working after our return. Queries at the shop suggest that a leave of absence is possible, leaving me something to do to keep from driving Deb crazy when we get back. But for reasons I can't explain, the impending departure was making me very uncomfortable. Something just didn't feel right about the plan, but it was all we had. 

We had considered a second option, with the same approximate departure date. It had us heading north rather than south. We had not had Kintala in the Chesapeake Bay for the last couple of years of cruising. It is a place we both enjoyed. Putting around it in a trawler would be a lot of fun. We have family there we haven't seen in a long time. There was some thought of making the bay First Light's permanent playground. But it is a long drive from St. Louis and what to do during the winter was a complete blank. That plan was quickly dismissed. Having First Light in the Chesapeake full time would simply not work. Back to plan “A."

While at the shop this week, I checked with the powers-that-be about the leave of absence. There is such a shortage of airplane drivers in our part of the world that instructors are getting very hard to keep, so the shop is pretty accommodating. They will be willing to hold my job and have me back as long as I would be back, full time, in just a few months. But I did need to give them a date as soon as possible. Scheduling clients, instructors, classes, recurrent training, and available equipment is the constant nightmare of this kind of operation. Just as I was about to tell them mid December until late spring time frame when I got a text from Deb suggesting I not give them a date. A possible third option was on the table. 

Burgee for America's Great Loop
Cruiser's Association

Don't go south in the winter, go north in the spring. Do the top half of the Great Loop in the right direction, with the current behind us. A plan similar to plan “A”, but with some attractive differences.

The north half of the Great Loop is territory we have never explored. It would be a new adventure. The Islands and bits of Florida that we love have all been hammered by Mother Earth since we came ashore. Maybe we experienced them at their peak and it would be best to remember them as they were. Moreover, big as she is, First Light isn't really a big water boat. Sure she could make the Islands easy enough, and work between them.  But, truth to tell, the ICW, rivers, and bays, are likely places where she (and we) will feel more at home. Also, I am happy with the idea of there always being being a land route between us and the family, one with no international borders to be crossed. And the best part of the plan? Grand kids can (if they want) come and go, meeting us at different ports of call, traveling with us for a while, and then heading back home with little difficulty. If there are no grand kids on the water to take First Light to, have the grand kids come over land to First Light.

Maybe our home for a few months?

  

This has become the new plan, and it feels right. The next trip east we plan on splashing First Light. She will take up a dock in (we think) Oriental until spring. We will use up virtually every vacation day I have to travel east and take her out to strut her stuff. But there would still be an income to cover whatever issues might come to light once her system are put to work once again. Come spring we will take that leave of absence and head north up the ICW, becoming part of the cruiser migration one more time. But, once north, we will turn into half-loopers, ending up at the dock in Alton. I'll head back to the shop and we will settle into the next chapter of our lives. Who knows, maybe some day we will head south again, cross our looper's wake, and see what might come next.

So that is the plan...for now.

Oriental Harbor Sunset