Ding on, Ding Off

A late Wednesday night look at the Thursday weather forecast suggested there was a chance of leaving Marathon and being in No Name Harbor by the weekend. So we got up early, loaded the Ding on deck, uncovered the sail, unshipped the anchor (we store it on top of the anchor bracket so it doesn’t grind on the mooring lines) gladly slipped away from mooring ball S10, stopped by the fuel dock, and motored out into the Hawk Channel. As expected, it was raining when we left. After a while the rain faded away as promised. We were pretty happy to have Marathon off the stern, bow pointed toward a rendezvous with Blowin' In The Wind. The Beast churned happily away, its brand new raw water pump puffing pleasing gouts of water out of the port. It was one of those times when one could not imagine living any other way.

Two hours later the bow was pointed into a dark mass of cloud, rain, and low visibility. Air around the boat throbbed and rumbled while lighting danced off the surface of the water to the south and south east. Airplane drivers have this thing about going through thunderstorms. We don’t. We go over them, around them, run away from them at 500 miles an hour. If one is hanging out at the arrival airport when we get there, we go someplace else for a while. Sometimes we tippy toe our way through a group or line of them, using the onboard radar to pick out alleyways to slip though while avoiding the giants rampaging down the main streets. That was actually one of my favorite parts of being a pro, but woe betide the plane, crew, and passengers if one got it wrong.

I am a sailor now, and different rules apply. Could we keep going and be none the worse for wear? Likely. Boats and airplanes are two different animals surviving in two different environments. Boats go through thunderstorms all the time. It is often hard to avoid when the boat is doing 5 knots, and the storm 20.

Did we need to keep going? In this case the line of storms was closing in at an angle off our starboard side. We had an escape route.

Looking at Deb I said, "This is a really bad idea." Then I turned the boat around.

She called the City Marina to let them know we were heading back. They had not yet checked us out so we gladly picked up the pennant for mooring ball S10 once again. Rig the deck, ship the anchor so it doesn’t grind on the mooring line, cover the sail, launch the Ding.

On the way back to Marathon, Deb noticed that the volt meter on the engine panel was showing just a nudge over 12V while the tach needle lay dead in its gauge. It hasn't been unusual for the tach to die off. After much hashing around the forums, the best bet is the solar panels jack the battery voltage high enough for the alternator regulator to just shut down the alternator. Zero output means zero signal for the tach. Since it is likely that the regulator on this boat is so old that the people who built it had never even heard of "solar power", that isn't a surprise. The idea that this is considered "normal" bugs the snot out of me. This is some old tech trying to live with new tech, and it is an uneasy relationship.

This time the voltage dropped to near 12.0 yet the alternator was still not on line. That means a wonk.

It would be hard to explain the troubleshooting done so far, partly because I am somewhat baffled by what we have found. Somewhere along the line someone installed a new, 75 amp Balmar alternator. But they didn't buy a new Belmar regulator to go with it. Instead we found an "Heart Interface Incharge" regulator. (Actually we found two, one in the spare parts box.) So, was that the original unit and they were saving a few bucks? Who would do that when coughing up the money for the Balmar? If it was original, would a regulator designed for a 55 amp unit work on a 75 amp unit? I've never looked into it. Maybe it would. But, again, why do that?

Was the "Incharge" bought with the Balmar? If so, why? Save a few bucks again? Why buy two? Did they have that little faith in the thing? And is the "spare" really a spare? It looks all new and shiny, complete with a new harness...but who knows? While digging through the paperwork we found that the "Incharge" is designed specifically to keep the tach running when the when the alternator output voltage drops. Is this another wonk, or just new tech overrunning old? For all of this it is still likely that the alternator is toast. It is an old unit as well, and has already been overhauled at least once.

If we end up replacing the alternator a new Balmar is likely out of a reasonable price range. Particularly if a Balmar regulator gets thrown into the package. But will some other unit fit in the mount? What size drive pulley will come with it and what size belt will it take? We are hanging on a mooring ball near the end of the nation's supply chain, and right now there are a lot more questions than there are answers. Normal for the marine industry, I know. But it gets tiring sometimes.

There is no choice but to keep trying. Eventually Kintala and Blowin' In The Wind will be in the same place at the same time. And, when that happens, it will hard to imagine living any other way.

Ahead of the crest

Yesterday was the two year anniversary of Kintala leaving Boulder Marina. It was also my 60^th birthday. So it seemed like there should be something special to say about the day, some profundity, some wisdom. But...I got 'nutten.

That isn't to say it wasn't a good day. I got birthday calls from Daughters Three and various grand kids, which will always make my day. Also, I really did take a full day off from working on the boat. Not a tool was touched. Not a screw turned. We had a nice Mexican Dinner with a small group of friends and family then returned to our floating tiny house. I think it safe to say I had a day much, much better than many people in the world ever have. Sixty years in and the biggest mystery in my life is why am I one of the luckiest of people? Lets face it, I am white, male, and living in the early dying stages of the most powerful empire the planet has ever known. Cracks are showing in the foundation and the next generation is going to know a completely different America, and a completely different world, than the one I have lived in. But I am riding the most exhilarating part of a monster wave before the crest breaks and washing machines the world. Most lottery winners don't have it that good.

So today started the push to get done and get gone once again. With tape measure in hand we started looking at mounting one additional solar panel. A job which, almost immediately, morphed into a major rebuild of the Bimini frame and cover. I get to rebuild the frame. Deb gets to make a new Bimini though I'm hoping to scam a little pilot-in-command time on the Sailrite machine. I'm guessing a minimum of two weeks before this job gets done. That puts us gone in the middle of August, plenty of time to do a little Chesapeake Bay exploring before the weather urges us south.

And then, who knows? Just stay ahead of the crest.

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.

One Half Magic …

… is so much better than no magic. We know people who have magic boats. Sitting quietly at anchor or on the mooring they suck all the energy they need directly out of the passing light of the sun or the gently moving currents of Mother Earth's atmosphere. It is all very cool and futuristic.

4:00 in the afternoon, sun almost down, still 4.8 amps going in!

Kintala makes her magic the old fashioned, internal combustion, way. Kind of stone aged, but it keeps the lights on. Or she did, right up until 1211 this afternoon. At 1211 a breaker was closed that allowed 200 watts worth of magic to flow. Two-hundred watts is probably not enough to carry the boat without an occasional jolt of internal combustion juice, but one half the magic is still pretty amazing. Truth to tell I wanted to just sit and stare at the amp meter for a while, mostly to convince myself that this project is finally done. I'm not sure what it was about the solar panel install that made it such a relentless grind. The salon table took much longer and was much more work. Rudder repair, keel joint repair, wind vane install, work bench / tool storage, not to mention the original blowed-up V-drive disaster; there have been so many serious projects that one would think something like installing solar panels is just another in a long line. But it wasn't. The solar panels were tied up with the summer of The Bear. The Bear crossed time lines with the Thing in PA. Somewhere in my subconscious little brain this project was more of the same, another bruising bit there was no avoiding.


At 1211 this afternoon it felt like 50 pounds slipped from my shoulders and disappeared into the bay. The sun shown brighter (On newly installed solar panels!), the air was cleaner, the wind blew gently, and the boat rode easy. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, maybe many months, life feels like life fits again.

With the solar panels doing their thing, Old Friend Alex of Yacht-a-Fun (newly met just today) offered a ride to the LPG tanks topped. Routine. But it is something one must do when getting ready to head to the Islands. Indeed, the only thing standing between Kintala and Island Places East Of Here is some provisioning and a weather window. It feels like we have caught up with the tribe, taken our place with the others “waiting to cross”.

Kintala's electrical system may be just half magic now, and maybe she is carrying just a half store of cruising magic. After all, the magic is mysterious stuff, impossible to measure, and doesn't often hang around long. But it has been a while since the crew of Kintala has felt its touch at all, so tonight is a good, good night.

Sow's ear purse ...

Folk lore is adamant about sow's ears and silk purses, and I suppose it has some merit. What the lore fails to mention is that sow's ears are perfectly suited for the purpose of allowing sows to hear things. It is trying to turn them into something else that causes all the trouble. Still, though I am far from expert in all things bovine porcine, my guess is one could make a perfectly serviceable pouch out of a sow's ears, perhaps even a attractive accessory that looks like fine leather.

I suspect that because much of a cruising life seems to be spent taking things that were intended for one purpose and pressing them into some other service. Money is always in short supply, so getting a work order written up to get it done just isn't an option. Besides, given our experience - and the constant horror stories we hear from other cruisers who have used marine contractors - I'm not even sure where I would start to look for someone to do this kind of project. For the same reason (money) just tossing out all the old, hacked up bits and starting from scratch with shiny new bits of silk is also not much of an option. But we do have time, and trouble is an every day companion. No sow's ear is safe in a mooring field or achorage full of curisers.

Today was day nine of turning Kintala's hap-hazard, limp, and ugly sow's ear of a bimini / frame into something that would support solar panels while still keeping the sun and rain at least tolerable. (I am beginning to wonder why any of us buy a boat that has an outside steering station only.) Nine ugly, stressful, gouged up hands and short tempered days of trouble.

Yesterday was the worst, a day at least as bad as the one back in Oriental when I discovered fuel barfing out of the WesterBeast's injection pump. Though the bimini frame was securely mounted to new hard points on the coaming, getting the frame, fabric, and ridged solar panel to play nice together was just not happening. I fell into the berth last night exhausted, battered, discouraged, and wondering if I simply didn't have the skills to make this sow's ear into anything more useful. Sleep was fitful, filled with weird dreams of long ago bosses and places of employment all mashed together in some surreal tale of things going wrong. But as often happens, the sub-conscious starts mulling over the problem as well. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning I woke up with a new idea of measuring spans and aligning bows with strings and yardsticks, making sure it all stayed put under any reasonable load with rivets and a few braces.

Today was a tough day as well. It turned out the aligning was a really good idea... that should have been done first... not after a bunch of holes had been drilled in the stainless steal tubing. (Note to self – when one's tool room is lacking drill wax, a bar of soap will work well as a stand in.) Nor was the day helped any by the constant swell augmented by weekend power boater wake hits. Yet tonight ye 'ol Tartanic sports a bimini that is (mostly) straight and true, taunt, flat, and overlaid by solar panels incorporated as part of the frame. Not a silk purse, but a perfectly acceptable rig. It is mostly straight because I couldn't figure out a way around the funky bend in the aft-most bow, courtesy of some anonymous putz from the past. In the end Deb pulled off some Sail Rite magic to get us over that final hurdle, and it will take a good eye to spot the funk.

Of course I have yet to run a single wire or give much consideration to things like a permanent home for the control panel. So I suspect this job isn't even half done. I'm going to blame some of the slow progress on the short days. Assuming any reasonable morning routine, buy the time work commences there is barely eight hours of daylight left.

That, and working with sow's ears just takes a lot of effort.

Hacking away

Kintala and her crew are back in full project mode. By the end of the day there is just enough energy left for a quick shower, dinner, and sometimes a movie. A $3 sale bin of CDs doubled our movie library. Since we haven't had a fast enough Net connection to download or stream anything since we returned to the US, having something new to nod off to is a treat. Movie nights have been taking place below since FL weather has dropped evening temps into the low 50s. Yes, cold weather lovers will groan at our tender skins, but we be tropical dwellers now.  Fifty is too cool for sitting outside taking in a flick. But it is perfect for being in full project mode.

It would be trying, hacking away on the boat while the cruising tribe sails in and out of the mooring field and form up mini-flotillas on the morning nets. Every weather window sees a bunch of boats heading out the channel to take aim at the Islands. Particularly since the opportunities for crossing the Stream have been rare these past few weeks. It would be trying, but the visit to family glows on the horizon. The promise of stories, hugs, and the smiles of little ones has added a gentle glow of anticipation to our days. The Islands will be there come January.

All of said hacking has been taking place in the cockpit. Kintala's bimini mount was always a cheesy kind of thing, with the mounting points far too weenie for the size of the cover. It was that way so it could be folded up, something that makes little sense on a cruising boat. One hardly ever sees the sun cover folded away. Chasing the sun is the whole idea, but sub-tropical rays will scorch one's hide clear to the bone.  Basking in such radiation is best done in small doses.  On those days were there is rain instead, folding up the rain cover would be just as silly. Big time, “here comes a hurricane” weather is best avoided. On the rare occurrence that the frame must come down, it will lift out of the solid mounts to be put away.

In addition the physical mounting of the weenie hinge fittings added a second layer of weenie to be undone, no surprise there. The core under 3 of the four mounts had been soaked because of poor sealing and flexing; the forward port mount sporting wood screws splintering their way through the fiberglass. So, as is normal for ex-airplane mechanics, the new mount holes were over sized, back filled with thickened resin, re-drilled, and through-bolted utilizing ½ inch starboard backing plates that were slightly larger, footprint wise, than the new mounts. (That is a bit of overkill, even for an ex-airplane type. But 0.5 inch is what the store had in stock.)

Kintala always seemed a bit awkward with its bimini sticking up four to six inches higher than the dodger. No only did it look like a bad after-thought, the cathedral ceiling cover reduced the amount of rain and sun protection. Not only is the bimini now lower but, with the mounts moved outboard as far as possible, if feels a bit more roomy on the back porch as well. Given the already minuscule acreage of that primary living space, even the illusion of more space is a good thing. And there actually is a little more hip room when going aft around the helm.

Most importantly, the hope is the new frame mounting will support a couple of solar panels that were donated to a good cause by friends Mizzy and Brian (Thanks again guys!) There is some question as to the solar panel install being completed before heading northwest to cold country, and movie nights might slow things up a bit more. But we didn't come this way to do nothing but work on the boat.

Though, sometimes, it sure feels that way.

Dinner Key Mooring field with the moon rise and South Beach in the background.

Chicago Boat Show 2013 - Call me surprised.

Since 2007 when we began our first sailing classes and before we owned a boat, we had joined the dreaming masses at the Annapolis and Chicago boat shows. This year was our fourth year at Chicago, and it offered a kind of opportunity to look back. I wondered, as I sat in the coffee area people watching, how many of the attendees around me owned boats and sailed actively, and how many were dreamers like we had been those 6 years ago. Dreaming is a good thing, a very necessary thing in today's age of relentless work and too little play, an escape and an infusion of energy and positive thinking. Maybe someday...just maybe...
Fast forward 6 years and I find myself watching and listening to the people as we wait in the lines to see the boats - the expensive-out-of-reach-for-most-of-us-boats. From this end of the 6 years you can pick out the ones at the other end of the journey pretty easily. They oooh and aaaah at the ice bin for beer in the cockpit and the flashy but not so efficient layout below. The boat owners and those looking to replace their boats are looking at the lack of handholds and awkward traveler positions and narrow, crowded side decks and possible dodger mounts and winch access. Recognizing myself 6 years ago in the oooh and aaah crowd and now in the boat owner crowd, it was good to realize just how far we'd come. Every once in awhile you need to get some encouragement in the midst of a tough refit, a pat on the back that you're not a rank beginner anymore,and I'll take it wherever I can find it, even if it means the deck of a flashy Beneteau which I can never afford.

I was, however, not beyond being caught totally flat-footed surprised. One of the main reasons we ended up with the Tartan was the fact that I have a wonderful husband who deferred to me in the area of design. At all the boat shows we attended, we toured the new Jeanneaus, the Catalinas, the Hunters and the Beneteaus, and after leaving each cabin I always felt like I had left a rather sterile hotel room. I had difficulty imagining any of them as my home in the way Kintala feels to me. Tim, being the pilot of high-end jet aircraft with fancy, new interiors, always preferred the  newer models. Well.....drumroll....I can now confess that I have found a new production boat that I could buy and live on if the checkbook could support it. The Beneteau Oceanis 41.


The boat was laid out exactly the way we would lay out a boat if we were designing it, and they had addressed a lot of my initial objections to modern production boats like the lack of opening ports in the side windows, fantastically well-designed companionway stairs and engine access, and had the one feature that we compromised on Kintala, a head at the base of the companionway, along with a feature we're building into Kintala, a useable tool, parts, and workroom.  The companionway stairs and engine access are probably the best feature of this boat. the stairs are completely encased by side walls as you go down and are much more level than the typical ladder-like stairs found on most boats (including Kintala). To access the engine, there is a hydraulic lift on the stairs that not only makes them easy to lift, but keeps them there while you're working inside. It is a truly well-designed boat with a cruiser-owner in mind, and for anyone with a bigger pocketbook than mine or the luck to win the lottery, I highly suggest you look at it.  The price as fully equipped at the show and also including a dodger and bimini but not a radar was $285K and change. There would be very little I would change about it other than to install a three burner stove instead of a 2 burner one, a radar, and two long handholds down the length of the boat which were inexplicably missing. I would also remove the front-opening fridge and install a top-loader for efficiency. This would be my choice in that price range without any doubt at all.


Enter stage left, Surprise Number Two, the new Gemini Legacy 35. The last time I boarded a Gemini catamaran was at the Annapolis Boat Show three years ago. I seriously couldn't wait to get off it (sorry to all Gemini owners who are happy with theirs). It was constructed so lightly that I would be constantly afraid of it coming apart were we to take it offshore. The nice thing about having two days at a small boat show is that you tend to go look at things that you might not otherwise since you have the time. We took the tour on the Gemini Legacy and were quite pleasantly surprised. They moved the cabin roof back quite a bit toward the table, allowing you headroom in most of the salon area, greatly opening up the salon and the galley both. The hulls are still a real tight fit, and the guest cabins very small, but the master cabin, that sits abeam the boat forward of the salon, is a wonderfully enticing space that makes you just want to curl up there and read a book. It's well lit, well ventilated, and their choice of veneers and paint colors all geared toward the light, airy feeling. The boat has a much more substantial feeling to it, and at $216K sailaway it's a pretty good deal for anyone wanting to get into a catamaran.

One negative surprise about the show this year was the real lack of meat and potatoes in the vendor aisles. There were a lot of schools, sailing clubs, insurance agents and the like, but almost none of the items we had come to research were represented: Rocna anchors, wind generators of any sort, solar panels of any sort, and hydro generators of any sort. We were able to purchase our tethers, a rope-cutting gun, and a good set of fids for tremendous boat show specials, and we did settle on a keel-cooled Frigo unit to replace our aging and very inefficient refrigerator compressor, but we left with money in our pocket when we would likely have purchased one of those items had they been there. It was an odd shift - the boat manufacturers had become more serious in their representation, the vendors less.

In my opinion, the free seminars offered at this show area the best reason to go. There are nearly 50 one-hour seminars offered each day of four days and they just keep getting better and better, with high-quality instructors and topics of highly applicable interest to nearly every level of experience. We attended an offshore energy management seminar offered by Bob Williams that I anticipated was going to be too basic for my mechanic-husband, but turned out to be a very valuable resource to us as we are setting up our electrical usage planning. We also attended the Force 10 Storm Management seminar offered by our friend John Kretschmer who, as always, is highly entertaining while delivering a real 1-2 punch of knowledge.  Regardless of what seminar you choose, I promise they deliver and will not disappoint. In between your seminar attendance, there are also a ton of on-floor demonstrations at vendors, the best one we attended being the splicing demonstration done by Donnie from the West Marine Rigging production staff in Rock Hill.

Here are some more miscellaneous pictures for those of you who didn't get to attend.

Sailing Simulator for kids that was awesome.

Compac Yachts Pilot House 23

The Blue Jacket 40 World Debut. A really well-designed boat by Bob Johnson and Tim Jacket.

New to the U.S. Delphia 41

Seward 32

The annual ice sculpture contest at Navy Pier

Incredible detail in the work

Chicago at its best