Once again

If you can’t point to something and say, “this is the problem,” when trying to fix something, the chances are pretty good that the something isn’t fixed.

Ed Note: We did in fact get off the dock today
and had a really nice sail in Tampa Bay.
That's what that white thing is for...

And so it was with the head modification. The first configuration should have worked, did work, but did not seem to be working very well. So the configuration got changed. It also worked, seemed to work a little better, and was a decidedly more elegant solution to the hose runs than the first one had been. There is a certain amount of wisdom in the idea that, “If it looks right, it is right”. The new configuration certainly looked a lot more “right” than the old one. It was enough to stoke the hope that the problem had been solved. Still, the more thought that went into it, the less likely it seemed. This is a low pressure, low volume fluid system. The things that were changed were 99% cosmetic. From the point of view of fluid flowing through lines, the first configuration was as “right” as the second. Still, it had been a longish work day, the project had already taken two more days than planned, and yours truly was just getting tired of working on the boat. The system had worked before the modification, the new “look” was better than the old, and I really, really wanted the job to be done.

But 24 hours later it was clear that wishful thinking wasn’t enough to call a job finished. The system was still not working as well as it should. The main give-away was the amount of pressure that was building up at the diverter valve. A little bit of pressure was expected as it is at one end of the anti-syphon loop. Turn the valve and what fluid was in that half of the loop would flow into the holding tank. But, even after the configuration change, when the valve was turned, fluid was doing a soft kind of explosion into the holding tank. There was also more pressure on the flush pump handle than was usual. Clearly something was seriously restricting the flow somewhere, likely something we had disturbed during the mod. That didn’t help much since, during said mod, we had pretty much disturbed the entire black water / holding tank run from flush pump to thru hull.

There were several likely candidates. One was the diverter valve itself. During the work it was discovered that the valve had suffered an internal failure. One of the seals had torn and was partially jamming the thing. It had been completely disassembled, cleaned, all seals had been replaced with new, and the valve reassembled. Since it seemed impossible to put the bits back together wrong it wasn’t likely the home of the trouble. Still, it was easy to reach, another plus for the new configuration. Since the problem had not existed before we started, had existed after we finished, and the valve was the one thing that had been touched the most, it seemed the best place to start. Disassembly proved that it was, indeed, impossible to put it together wrong and that it was working exactly as it should.

The curved plastic tube at the top of the anti-syphon loop, the tube that holds the Micky-Moused little valve itself, was the next easiest place to reach. Since things tend to fall away from the top of something, there was faint hope that this would be the place to find “the fix”. On the other hand, if one skipped looking there, Mr. Murphy would suggest that was where one really needed to look. So we looked.

And found nothing to fix.

Least attractive and holding the most potential for disaster was something jammed up in or near the thru-hull. It was also the only place left where the trouble could lurk. So it was with some trepidation that the clamps were removed, the heat gun applied, and a sharp knife was taken to the hose attached to the thru-hull shut off valve. Mine wasn’t the only sigh of relief when the hose came free without water flooding into the boat. There was another sigh of relief when the valve was slowly opened and water did, indeed, flood into the boat. The hose itself? Ugly. And clogged. Clogged with sheets of calcified “stuff” clearly knocked free from the inside of the hoses as they were twisted and bent into various configurations. There was also a plain, old fashioned clog where it attached to the thru-hull, the inside diameter of the line less than half the original. Open enough that the pump still worked before we messed with the hoses. Blocked enough that the debris cascading down from the hoses being moved was enough to do it in.

Something that was clearly wrong that needed to be fixed. A new length of hose and some flushing of the thru-hull, and the head seemed (don't want to jinx it) to, once again, be working properly.

One of the most used pieces of equipment on board. A parts cleaner from
Harbor freight into which the Merc jets go for cleaning. The whole carb
body fits in there as well. Four or five cycles later the carb is sparkling
and the jets once again let the fuel flow. Best $20 we ever spent.

Kintala is buttoned up once again. The Merc, after throwing a second fit that left fuel running out of the bottom of the engine cowl, had hands laid upon it and is also docile and cooperative once again. So, as soon as this bit of weather decides what it is going to do, the hope is to get off of the dock for a good couple of days worth of shaking things out. And, in a week or two, to go cruising…once again. 

Happy Bird-day

Grandson eldest turned eight yesterday. His little sister talked about his “Bird-day” from start to finish. The start was kind of early since the main thing the Bird-day Boy wanted for a present was to go sailing. The rest of us were glad to oblige.

Winds were forecast in the 10 to 20 knot range. Since there were no plans to set speed records nor anywhere in particular we needed to go, two reefs were set in the main with the plan to fly the staysail most of the day, should the wind forecast prove accurate. The crew hurried a bit to get Kintala off the dock while the morning doldrums lasted, which also gave us a chance to try and reset the wind indicator in mostly calm conditions. It was the second effort. Deb took over the button pushing part while I just steered the boat as instructed. As usual when a woman is doing something, the nearest man (me) kept offering completely useless advice. And, again as usual, tactfully ignoring said advice was the only way to get the job done. In this case finishing the job resulted in our wind indicator actually working for the first time in over a year.

“Mostly calm” still meant 10 knots or so of wind being available to get down the river and out into Tampa bay. It was easy sailing mostly off the wind. With just the jib flying, Kintala nearly steered herself, so the “Bird-day” boy was given the helm and tasked with us down the channel safely. Our eight year old Captain did an excellent job, making Grampy T a proud Grampy indeed.

Gaining the bay, young Captain and the rest of the crew wanted to sail under the Skyway Bridge. Being tighter on the wind, the main went up to help balance the helm, though I'm sure we looked a bit odd with a double reefed main flying behind a fully deployed jib. It worked out okay and we headed for the bridged doing close to 5 knots, Grandson Eldest reluctantly giving up the helm in the more challenging conditions.


Nearing the bridge the winds started to falter, requiring some tacking to manage the clearing. On the far side of the bridge there was a bit more wind, making for an easy turn to start the sail back to Snead Island. Going under the bridge for a second time it became clear there was more wind everywhere. A lot more wind. Kintala heeled up on her “go fast” lines and we romped off, still flying the big jib. It would take a couple of long tacks to make the river, which was okay with everyone. Daughter Eldest used the heel to settle under the dodger, Granddaughter Youngest snuggled in her lap, both of them nodding off for a much needed nap. Yes, we were heeled hard over and bashing our way down the Bay, but Mothers of two-year-olds everywhere will understand.

The next tack saw us rolling in the big jib and flying just the staysail, the thought being to settle the ride just a little. That didn't really work so well. Without the power of the big jib we bounced over the waves instead of blowing through them. The jib went back out, along with the staysail, and off we romped once again. Now I'm sure we looked really odd, both head sails flying full with two reefs in the main. But ye ol' Tartan was happy and the helm was only moderately loaded, so we let it be.

Besides, we were running comfortably at well over six knots. If it works, don't fix it.

The next tack would have us gaining the river, so the big jib was rolled in. Hard on the wind we where showing nearly 30 knots of breeze flowing over the deck. Even falling off didn't completely unload the sail. The Deck Monkey struggled a bit at the furling line, but the jib rolled in so tight it looked like a toothpick on the forestay. I wish I could get it to look like that every time.

Working the wind, taking advantage of every lift and occasionally pinching up a bit, Son-in-Law (wanting his own time at the helm) worked us through the narrow part of the channel and into the open part of the river out from the Snead Island inlet. The staysail rolled up (not looking as good as the jib) while the shorted main fell into the lazy jacks with little effort.

We gained the dock with just a little bit of a stumble, caused by (you can guess) who thought he was grabbing the upwind stern dock line when, in fact, it was the leeward line in his hand. Kind of useless for keeping the wind from blowing the stern askew. The rest of the crew stepped up to keep things from getting ugly.

All in all Kintala covered more than 34 nm in 8 and a half hours of raucous sailing. Afterward the “Bird-day” Boy got his pizza dinner and chocolate cake, (complete with a matchstick for a candle) and opened a couple of presents.

I'm pretty sure my eighth “Bird-day” wasn't anywhere near that cool. I suspect Grandson Eldest and the rest of the family will remember it for many a year.

It was likely the last sail we will take with Daughter Eldest and Family before they come back for the summer. The rest of the week will be taken up with provisioning runs and errands, the last minute details for getting them back to St. Louis for the next semester of school, and us back to cruising.

Happy Bird-day indeed!

Close, oh so close.

Daughter Eldest and Family have been visiting for a couple of weeks, enjoying life on Kintala and a break from the winter weather gripping the midwest. We have played games, worked coloring books, hung out at the beach, and gone for rides in the “Ding”, grand daughter youngest's word for the dink. (I think it is going to be permanent.) The little ones all love going for rides in the Ding, something Grampy T hasn't learned in going on four years of living on the boat. With the Merc-on-the-Ding running acceptably again, power rides rather than oar rides are the new highlights of the day.

One thing we had not managed to accomplish was getting the whole crew out on Kintala for a sail, something we finally managed a day or so ago. The forecast was for very light winds, but the day was warm, the boat ready, and sometimes just heading out is enough, even to drift around for a while.
We did a bit better than that.

Clear of the river my internal wind sensors suggested there was enough of a breeze to hang out some canvas. Our newly installed wind indicator didn't agree, but it turns out there is a calibration routine needed when you mount a new breeze stick on the mast, and we haven't done that yet. And, opposite of what they drill into hard-core instrument pilots, the years on the water have taught me to trust what my body says is going on with the weather and the boat. Things like wind sensors and GPS maps provide supplementary, and sometimes suspect, information.

Deb swung the bow up and the main sail went aloft as smoothly as it ever has. There was just enough wind to give it shape as we fell away to a close reach; Kintala surged to a killer speed of a knot or so. The jib spun out without a hitch and the sheet pulled in tight. Speed went up to two plus, then a touch over three. We ghosted along that way for a few minutes, heading to drop the anchor at Egmont Key for lunch. After a few minutes I decided to spin out the staysail as well. There was no reason to think that it would help much, but the boat looks cool with everything flying. And why miss a chance to look cool? With its sheet pulled in equally tight both head sails started pulling in near perfect parallel. Even with the apparent wind hovering around a bare 10 knots, speed flirted with 5 with just a hint of heel to port. Whatever shortcomings our old Tartan offers as a full-time live aboard cruising boat, they get forgotten when she is sailing fast on little wind, fully dressed for the dance.

There are people who love bashing into the waves, spray flying and the boat galloping along at full song. And there are times when I like that as well. There are people who prefer to be running before 20 knots worth of breeze, boat running at near hull speed with just 15 knots or so left ruffling the deck. And there are times I like that as well. When running offshore for a couple of days (or weeks for the true sailors among us) it is best to love whatever is happening at the moment, for the choice of what kind of sail we are having is not ours to make.

But sometimes the choices - boat, crew, and weather - add up to nothing short of pure magic.
The winds faded as we approached the anchorage, which turned out to be completely potted over with crab buoys. Without bothering the Beast we dropped the hook in deeper water than we had planned and much further from the beach than we had hoped. Lunch was low key and clean-up a bit of a trial given the rolling. Though the wind really had faded, we chose to drift off the anchor. It was also pretty good conditions for trying out the rebuilt jib pole, though the fact is I am still not comfortable with the thing. (Yes, I have read all the articles and watched all the you-tube videos. So far something hasn't sunk in so I am still working on it.)

We drifted down wind at a knot or two for a couple of hours, poled out jib doing what it could in the zephyrs. With the day fading away and the river mouth in sight, the Beast was poked awake to get us home before dark.

Crawling into the v-berth, boat secure and kids happy, it was easy to feel that getting back to cruising is tantalizingly close.

Good and Perfect

A good day on a boat is:

• Any day nothing breaks
• Any day the weather treats you kindly
• Any day you get to sleep in with a 70° breeze wafting in through the V-berth hatch
• Any day you spend with other cruisers
• Any day you sail more than you motor
• Any day you aren't in a gray cubicle on a Monday morning

But Sunday? Sunday was the rare perfect day.

Tom and Lesa on Panacea

Our friends Tom and Lesa on Panacea texted to see if we might want to go for a short sail Sunday afternoon. (Need you ask?) By 2:00 we were out of the basin and hoisting the main and the jib. We sailed all the way to Egmont Key in 12-15 knot winds and the Island Packet trimmed nicely into it, yielding a steady speed in excess of 6 knots. The breeze was comfortable - not too warm - and the water a deep blue. As we all had plans in the evening, we tacked just before the shipping channel to the Gulf, and headed back to the Manatee River on almost exactly a reciprocal course. Four hours of perfect sailing.

The Mary T, a Morgan 38

It was an elixir, and it would have been enough all on its own, but earlier in the day some folks whose blog we follow contacted us to see if we had time to get together Sunday evening. Although landlocked in Bradenton at the moment due to a family emergency, Ken and Amy on Mary T have traveled from Florida to Isla Mujeres and then on down to Rio Dulce, Guatemala, a trip that holds some interest for us. We wanted to pick their brains. After a short tour of Kintala, we headed over to the Riverside Grill for dinner. We had a wonderful evening trading stories and laughing. All of us have been separated from other cruisers for some time and it was good to remember one of the things we enjoy most about this lifestyle.

Perfect sailing and new cruising friends? Yeah. A perfect day.

The lighthouse at Egmont Key in Tampa Bay

Settling in

This part of the ICW has some remarkable homes.

Kintala settled into her slip at the Snead Island Boat yard Wednesday afternoon. After motoring away from Blackburn Bay and stopping at Marina Jacks in Sarasota for fuel, water, etc., we cleared the bridge into Sarasota Bay, put the Beast to rest, and romped northward at 6 knots in post cold front winds. There are two lifting bridges between Sarasota Bay and Tampa bay. Since all bridges frown on people sailing through them, we tucked away the jib and motored through. Once in Tampa bay we sailed as far as we could, making it into the Manatee River before being too hard on the wind to keep going under canvas. The Beast went to work, pushing us up the river, through the tiny opening into the yard, and between the piers. It was a good effort on the part of the Beast as, by that time, the spray from the raw water pump was getting serious.

Now THAT'S a mooring ball.

Don't tell anyone that the new mechanic came limping in, nursing a failing engine.

There is no way to avoid that fact that we are now, officially, “between cruises." This will be home base for a while. The hope is we will spend as many weekends and holidays as possible exploring the Tampa bay area, anchoring out like we did in little Nomad on Carlyle lake. That will mean parsing out boat jobs in such a way as to keep Kintala mobile, that is, after we get her mobile once again. That may be a few weeks with pump, alternator, tachometer, wind instrument, inner forestay repair, and replacement staysail furling being things to do before we leave the dock even for a weekend.

Deb's new wheels. No, no grandbabies. The trailer is for laundry and groceries.
Kintala rests in her slip in the shady background. Shade is good in FL

With the main focus being proving my worth at working on other people's boats, it is likely that my efforts on Kintala will go a little slow for the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, we are settling in, shore power is on, the Dink is folded up and stored away, sheets are already tied up. We have to get used to dock and boatyard noises. This weekend we will try to get some of Kintala's most pressing projects started, though there is some weather inbound.

My first official day as a boat tech is Monday, but I got my golf cart / mobile tool box today and started to move in. It felt a little weird, hauling tools off of the boat and setting up a new work space. It will take a few weeks to know what tools will be the hardest used. For the time being it looks like I'll be the new spark chaser in the yard with mast wiring, battery installs (including re-configuring battery banks and boxes) and pumps being on the list of the first three or four boats to deal with. Already the “customer stories” have started. My favorite is the new owner who thought his Max Prop needed adjusted since the engine would only turn a max of 2500 RPM instead of the rated 3200; though he did note a boat speed of 7.5 knots. The boat also idled at an indicated 50 RPM, about 700 RPM too low. In fact the engine will not idle at 50 RPM regardless of what the tack might say – something the owner / captain simply didn't know. In any case an electronic (and calibrated) tack showed the engine making the 3200 RPM. No problem with the prop, the tack is 700 RPM off.

Then there is the older Island Packet with its first-time-boat-owner. The boat was delivered with just the starting battery installed, no house bank at all. In fact we are not even sure where the house bank was located as there is a cut-off hot battery cable in the wrong locker, and no other battery cables are in evidence anywhere on the boat. Did the Broker explain to this new owner that he was getting married to a boat whose very DC electrical heart was missing? In any case we will be installing a fresh heart and sending the new couple off to live happily every after.

Another owner had his boat hauled for the hurricane season, went to unhook his batteries, and lit up the inside of his boat by throwing sparks everywhere. He decided that someone from the yard, someone who owns an "insulated wrench", should take care of it. It looks like that someone will be me though, (again, don't tell anyone) I don't have an insulated wrench in my box anywhere. I guess I can come up with some electrical tape if I need to make one.

Though my head is making the transition to being a boat tech / live-a-board / dock dweller, my heart still lies offshore. Just off the boat yard is a popular anchorage. I can look “out there” and see home. I'm hoping the view will help keep me focused, working to keep bosses and customers happy, filling the bank account so we can be on our way … one of theses days … once again.

Post-storm sunset in Blackburn Bay.