Here we are...

What seemed to be a better weather window looked to be opening up for a Sunday overnight, Monday morning arrival to West End in the Bahamas. With another cold front looking to arrive Wednesday / Thursday, and time slowly ticking away until we need to be back in the States, we decided to go.

All in all it went okay, we just finished checking in at West End and are nicely tucked away against the wall. The Dock Master wants us off the wall, but the wind is blowing about 20 knots out of the west and directly across the slips. I am just shy of dog tired and not that great a boat driver, so everyone agreed that we can sit just where we are until the winds fade.

There wasn't supposed to be 20 knots worth of wind. And there wasn't 20 knots worth of wind, particularly 20 knots worth of west wind, for the first 14 hours of the trip. What wind there was came due out of the east, directly on Kintala's bow. The main went up to catch what we could and to help steady the ride in the small but steady rollers coming from the north. (My guess is they were thrown off the big low up that way.) After a few false starts, the auto pilot decided to play nice, the Beast thumped happily along, and Kintala and crew motored happily into the sunset.

The rolling was enough to make it uncomfortable below, particularly for sea legs grown weak and unsteady by too many months on a dock. Even with the boat helm in auto, we took to spending off watch hours huddled on the floor of the cockpit; just like old times. We had departed No Name a bit early thinking that our planned 5 knot SOG might be optimistic given the lack of breeze and waves. Instead we spent much of the night at near 7 knots, unplanned help from the Gulf Stream. We did slow up once trying to pick our way through the line of cruise ships that parade out of Miami every Sunday night. I like to see at least a mile between me and one of those things going near 20 knots, even if it means going 2 or more miles out of my way.

One weird thing: 30 miles SW of West End, around 2130, we got buzzed by a low flying turbo prop. Not as big as a 'Hurk but bigger than a King Air. It was showing no lights. A few minutes later, a completely blacked out hull moved off of our line. We would never have seen him but he chose to head south to avoid us and was back lit by the recently risen, near-full moon. I managed to get a pair of binoculars on him as he moved away - big thing, but not really military looking. It looked like a shadow sketch of a mega yacht, but it also showed not a single light of any kind. My guess is we stumbled across a lurking security force, though what they expected to find on a direct line between Biscayne Bay and West End Bahama this time of year, other than a cruiser boat heading for the Islands, would be a mystery. It was all a bit menacing which, I suspect, is the intent.

With the early start and boost from the Stream, we raised West End by 0430 in the morning. The unexpected west wind blowing directly against the still outgoing tide made a night entry into the West End turning basin sound like a bad idea. We chose to anchor out instead, even knowing the anchorage is completely exposed to west winds, the holding can be poor, and we would be on a lee shore. The hook went down, as did the bow, with waves just washing over the deck and getting my feet wet as I worked at not falling off the boat. Even with 150 feet of chain out, there was no sleep to be found. Kintala didn't drag which, as it turned out, was a very good thing. At some point during the night the alternator apparently quit charging the batteries. Come morning, there was no juice to wake the Beast so we could move into the marina.

The little Honda proved its worth once again, and here we are.

Re-thinking solar …

More than a year ago, back when we were still reeling from stopping the boat from sinking, rebuilding the rudder and steering system, and replacing the standing rigging, there was a short debate about getting electrical power on the boat when she was away from shore. You know, out where we were thinking we wanted to live. (A thought that that turned out to be completely righteous. May it be many a moon before Kintala is attached to dry land once again!) I crunched the numbers every way I could. Putting even a modest amount of solar collectors on board came out considerably more expensive than buying the Honda 3000i and feeding it a little gas now and again. So the Honda took up residence and Kintala went on her way. Since our journey started out with weeks of motoring down the ICW, taking the internal combustion route seemed even smarter. As our first year unfolded we found ourselves dockside for months at a time. Solar panels were for out-island explorers and we had yet to make that grade. Solar power was kind of cute, green, touchy-feely, and got good press. But the hard core math of using dollars to fill the batteries with magic juice could not be denied.

The unfolding year, for all of its trials, also brought the chance to dabble in some solar harvesting. Kintala found her way half way to the modern age. The cost of our install added up to several hundred dollars, but included rebuilding the Bimini frame to support the weight of the collectors. The cost of the panels and controllers has fallen dramatically in the past year plus. Those residing over our cockpit and the fancy bit of electronics mounted in the aft cabin that controls them, can now be had for less than $400. The Honda cost just shy of $1000, so the material costs of Soichiro Honda vs. Ra now come out slightly in favor of the Sun God.

Total installation cost may still tilt the balance the other way for some. I don't know what the labor costs would be for hanging and wiring panels on a boat. Back in my old life projects like that usually costed out at one half labor, one half parts. So adding $1000 plus of labor to the cost of a solar system still favors Mr. Honda's technology in the cost-effective power battle. There are other thoughts come to mind when considering the balance as well. Powering up the boat with the Honda 3000i is shoe-tying simple. Plug in the shore power cord. Pull on the Honda cord. Done. Mr. Honda's little generator has been stone cold reliable and when it is carrying the boat all of the AC circuit is powered up as well. Charging an assortment of computers, iPads, phones, spot lights, radios, and other communications gear, is done out of hand. And it is done out of hand day or night, rain or shine … so long as there is a little gas in the tank.

The solar takes no cord plugging or pulling. It works its magic all by its lonesome and without the noise and vibrations Mr. Honda brings to the task … so long as the sun is shining. Charging the computers is not part of Kintala's DC capabilities at the moment, and we have just two ports available to juice up the aforementioned iPads, phones, etc. Something is usually missed in the rotation, making whatever that something was inoperable just when one reaches for it. At some point in the future the computers will have an inverter available to feed them their daily requirement of magic. It is on the boat, just not wired in. Even when it gets integrated into the electrical circulatory system, rumor has it such things just honk down the battery power. The Honda doesn't even notice the added weight of carrying a computer or two, so these are things to be sorted out after the deck monkey gets around to installing the thing.

Going with the Honda was the right thing when we did it. But now, if I was outfitting a boat, the Sun God would get the nod and solar power would be high on the “this makes life easy” list. With cost now falling to where it is, going without sun power doesn't make near the sense it once did. I would go with Ra and the boat's engine as back up if money concerns forced a choice between Ra and Mr. Honda, though keep in mind that only works if labor is personal effort and not cost out of pocket.

So the current evolution of my “magic boat” is DC generating capability out the kazoo. Solar, wind, and lots of battery bank. (Wind … I wish the wind generator people would get the memo on falling cost per watt.) AC power needs would be kept to a minimum, with a truly magic boat being able to thrive without any shore power capability at all. Indeed, my “magic boat” is never tethered to dry land, so a shore power AC system would be a waste anyway. (Besides, how many boats have been lost by fire caused by AC / shore power faults? We have heard of several just in the short time we have been out here.)

My conversion to sun power is complete. It is cost competitive with the Honda, needs no gas, and makes no noise. But it does need daylight. Lots and lots of blue sky daylight. Those who dream of high latitude cruising, (a dream I understand but don't see in Kintala's future) may need to take a different look. For tropical dwellers though - even those on a tight budget - big black panels gazing at RA is the way to go. Not to mention it's a bit more friendly to our turtle neighbors.

I loves me some Honda

Being dock dwellers, we haven't talked much about the Honda EU2000i companion model generator that we have lately. Today Tim was working on rebuilding the traveler up at the picnic shelter (more on that later), and needed a power source for some 110 tools. We dug out the Honda from under its cover and...it didn't start. Color me shocked because we've never had it start in anything more than one pull before. In Honda's defense, the generator has been sitting on the back of the boat now for over two months unused, with fuel and salt air mixing together.

Since my sewing project for the day was put on hold due to missing materials and my port rebedding still awaits the missing Dow Corning 795 being shipped to me, I got on the internet and did a little research. It turns out that these generators have a low-level oil alert cutoff switch that involves a float in the oil tank, and that float tends to stick if the generator sits for some time. When we were on the mooring field or at anchor, we were getting rocked around enough and using the generator enough that it didn't matter, but sitting here in relatively calm waters for two months did it in.

In keeping with the KISS principle I did the easiest thing first though and cleaned and gapped the plug (it was pretty dirty but still usable). It hadn't been done for awhile so it wasn't wasted work but it didn't produce the start. I dug out a piece of twisted safety wire that we keep in the workshop for just this kind of prodding and poking and carefully threaded it into the tank. A little fishing around and a couple pulls and the generator started right up.

I loves me some Honda.

Work vs fun

The work to fun ration on Kintala has been badly out of whack. This isn’t to say working on the boat is all bad, though; as much as fixing things can have its own rewards, it isn’t always “fun”. But some things are starting to come together and the pressure, or at least the perceived pressure for me, is starting to ease.

The mast / hull joint is full of spar tight, the rig is taut and pins secure, the boat is happy to be all of a piece again and (they tell me) we can go sailing anytime we want. We “want” like, right now, but there are a few nits to pick. I know the holy grail of all cruising sail boaters is to be energy independent of the “green” kind. Word is that “green” means renewable and clean but in reality green means money, lots and lots of money. At the moment Kintala is semi-energy independent in a less green way. In the evening we fire up the Honda generator and burn about $3 worth of dinosaur juice to charge the boat, iPad, and smart phone batteries, heat water, etc. Guessing it would cost roughly 6K to turn Kintala really green, we have 5 and a half years to break even on the power situation. Not sure we have the best solution right now, but for right now it is the best we can do.

Yesterday Kintala’s new dinghy got a full load of air and then was dumped in the creek. Paddling around in that thing is a hoot; so long as the wind isn't blowing. Sometime in the next day or two we might actually try hanging the motor on it and see how it goes. Sometimes climbing up the learning curve is just a bunch of fun. We finished the mount to hang the dinghy motor on the stern rail (looks like a cruising boat). How to get it from there to the dinghy transom without dropping it to the bottom is a question we have yet to answer.

There is still a cabinet to rebuild so Deb can stop living out of a duffle bag. That has been at the top of the list for the last three days but each day something else elbowed its way to the front. Today is was dragging our hopelessly out-of-date life raft to town just to be told that there was no way to cert the thing as usable. Two thousand dollars will get us a nice shiny new one, though (the man admitted) 99 times out of 100 if one tossed an old one in the water it will work just fine. What to do, what to do?

Everyone has to make their own risk assessments. For now we are going to strap the old one back in front of the mast and drive on. Sure, if we had the pesos, Kintala would sport EPIRBs and personal locators, man overboard alarms, the best of AIS, a shiny new life raft (or two), the latest in Star Wars navigation gear, SSBs and Sat Phones and endless internet connections. She would also have a water maker and a washing machine and ICE CREAM … but if we had those kinds of resources Kintala probably wouldn't be a 1982 boat needing a ton of other work.

Still, we are in the water going on five days now, there is no water in the boat; and we have actually started to debate how we will head south; inside, outside, Dismal Swamp, Pamlico Sound… Just talking about it is kind of fun. We are going to meet some new friends tomorrow, and next week old friends from Carlyle will be around for the boat show. This is all good stuff. Slowly, oh so painfully slowly, the work to fun ratio on Kintala is starting to balance out once again.

More pics from the 66 foot 1903 Lawley as it left today.