We had a big laugh while reading the directions. They indicated an easy one morning project. What am I at now, day five?

Dinghy davits used to also hold up the solar panel

The electrical cable I ordered from Miami a week ago with three day shipping has yet to arrive. I’ve called the company four times now and have yet to speak with someone about the order. The lady on the other end keeps taking my phone number and telling me someone will get right back to me!

Well, I really can’t delay this project much longer and maintain any dignity around the marina. You don’t do anything here without the scrutiny of everyone in eyesight. They all watch the project progress and are eager to present insightful recommendations on how to proceed. The later in the day it becomes, the more alcohol is consumed. This is directly proportional to the complexity and depth of the suggestions.

I locate some spare boat electrical cable I had stashed away in the event of just such a situation. I call to cancel my order in Miami and am told someone will get right back to me!

Breaking out the power drill, portable torch, and a host of other tools I resign myself to the task of finishing this.

On the end of the port side dinghy davit is a piece that will hold the pulley which will raise the dinghy. As I adjust the davits to install the cross beams, which will hold the solar panel the unusual magnetic characteristic of salt water sucks the $28 end cap right off the davit. The cap had to elevate itself 25 degrees and slide upwards over an inch defying gravity.

Youch...

The part makes a satisfying plop in the water. Yes, satisfying… This means that I have donated expensive new parts into the briny deep thereby paying homage to the sea Gods that often request such payment. I do feel better having lost this part.

Something was going into the water. Better this than the $600 solar panel.

The drill comes out and now I have to start making holes in the boat. I drill into the cap rail to feed the wire from above deck to below. This is only accomplished after taking apart the aft stateroom and bunk. The wire has to lead from the panel to under the bunk, past the steering gear, next to the engine shaft, past a host of other electrical goodies and into the engine room and onto the circuit panel.

I did manage to install the charge controller, and it looks pretty darn good if I do say so myself. Lucky I suspect.

Now then, I’m not exactly sure how I did it, but here is the days blood donation. I think I lanced myself with a stiff piece of stainless safety wire I was using to fish the wire up through the hole. It made a nice little puncture wound which should heal without too much difficulty. When I first stabbed myself I let loose with the appropriate cuss words just below audible level.

Solar panel installed!

You know your loved when you immediately hear, “Don’t get any blood on the deck,” from down below. So, that puts me somewhere below a seabass in the pecking order. Fish can bleed on my deck, but I cannot…

It was a good thing as it is only a small donation. Nothing requiring a trip to the nearby emergency room, which makes this donation particularly satisfying. I’ve managed to make the daily project donation without excess injury. Another milestone passed!

Now that I’ve donated brand new parts, lots of sweat, and a bit of blood I can happily continue on with my project, secure in the knowledge that I’ve paid all necessary dues required to safely finish this project.

It was a grand accomplishment. I finished just in time to grab a cold Corona and watch a couple of volts transfer from the panel to the batteries just before the sun set.

Crud separated from the fuel

Once I got into the project, I found an unused pickup tube for the fuel tank. I should have figured it was there. I don’t have an auxiliary generator, which is what this fitting is for. There is a return line port there as well. Thusly, I have a leftover conglomeration of two diverter valves, four extra 3/8” barbs, some extra fuel line and a few left over SS hose clamps.

The utilized parts include one free salvaged Racor filter body, one purchased Racor filter, about $28. I bought the fuel pump (new) on eBay. It’s a 4-6 PSI 100GPM 12v inline pump for about $35. The fuel lines were around $12 and the miscellaneous end cap plug for the Racor, two 90 degree elbows, some hose clamps, three Band-Aids and 2 Boddington Cream Ales, brought the grand total to around $90.00US.

This is considerably less than what I found at the boating supply stores and on-line magazines.

The original problem, a leaky fuel deck cap, fixed with a new O-ring.

I wired the pump into an unused 10amp breaker. Having plumbed the fuel-polishing pump totally separately from the engine fuel system, means I can polish the fuel with the flip of a breaker. Yep, one more way of making my life easier! The toughest part is draining the lower element and walking up to the waste oil containers.

Could be the source of the water...

I’ll not repeat the previous fuel contamination adventure in the narrow part of the ICW again. The night before I depart will only require the throw of a breaker for a couple of hours to ensure peace and happiness as I escape from the dock.

s/v AbbyGale

So we finally got all the little bad things done. Everything that was keeping me at the dock was dealt with in some form or another. Got beer, got food, got water, got to get going. The weather was finally going to cooperate with me for a few days. It’s time to get to the sunken treasure ship and see what is there. Everything is ready.

Yea, right…

So we get the boat ready to go to sea, put all the stuff where stuff is supposed to go, make the coast guard happy, make the GPS Gods happy with modern navigation gear, everything is ready. The tide is high and everything is in order. One tap on the ignition and the Yanmar is running smoothly, just a few puffs of blue smoke that we have never seen before. I tie us back to the dock to check the engine. Everything looks fine. No reason for the smoke, engine running good, hummm… might be just from sitting for a month or so.

Untie, and pull away from the dock, life is good…

Yea, right…

So we get out of the fairway and into the shallow narrow channel and the wind starts to kick up. Moving the throttle forward delivers less power, the engine is starting to die. The Admiral jumps on the helm while using our forward momentum to keep us in the narrow channel. I go below for a quick look. The engine is still running, just will not deliver power much over idle.

Oh-oh… got to be a fuel problem. One of the Racor filters is full of water. I switch to the secondary Racor. The engine rpm’s increase, we got power. We will make it out of the narrow shallow spot.

Yea, right…

I’m back at the helm, coming around the corner and into a little open area prior to getting back into a narrow channel again, with more wind. Loosing power, going slower, slower… oh crap… Would the Admiral report to the helm again, and quickly!

I jump up to the bow and open the anchor locker. I get the Danforth kicked off the bow roller in into the water and 20’ of chain goes before the rode. The boat is still moving at 2 kts. The Danforth sets behind us and starts to yank more rode from the locker where I’m standing, in the middle, with my left foot and then, oh crap. The rode takes a turn around my left ankle and I envision myself as a cartoon character getting pulled to the depths with the anchor.

The boat starts to spin 180 degrees as the anchor sets with my ankle. I reach down and get it unhooked just before the bone crushing snap. I get the rode wrapped on the cleat as the AbbyGale tightens the rode and comes to a halt.

Cough, sputter, die… the engine stops completely.

Time to assess the situation.

One Racor filter is full of water. The other, that I switched to, is not. The engine died. That has got to mean that water went past the first Racor and into the engines primary filter. After switching Racors I was still putting water into the system from the secondary filter. Damn.

Time for a cup of coffee and just sit for a while as we wait for BoatUS. Getting towed back to the dock is never pretty, or manly, but back at the dock we are.

Time to find out where the water came from, order new filters on line as the local marine stores don’t have them, and build up a fuel polishing system.

So there you have it. Yesterdays adventures and today’s repairs where so far I almost have the fuel problem fixed, I almost have all the parts to fix it, I almost had enough new fuel line, Home Depot almost had the right ¼” connectors, they almost had a new O-ring, but will order more, almost got lucky last night…

Boating is so much fun! I’ve discovered that you don’t need very much water in the tank, just enough to fill the filter is all you will almost ever need.

Since this is my first submission to Larry’s blog, I’ll introduce myself.  My name is Nat and I used to have a life of adventure and excitement.  Then I retired and the most exciting thing in my life now is eating enough fiber to keep my system functioning with some amount of regularity.  I have a little story to share with you and it starts like this…

Captain Nat

As sleep slipped away, it was replaced by awareness.  This did not happen suddenly as with an alarm, but more like the way summer blends into fall.  The wind was howling in the rigging, rocking the boat gently but insistently, reminding me of the hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico that had just came off Cuba and was churning slowly toward Texas, causing us in Tampa Bay to breath another sigh of relief.  The sound of water lapping against the hull told me that the wind was from the East.  Here at the dock, this would seem like a very normal day, but that was not the case.

Today, the air was charged with electric energy.  As the peace of slumber slipped away and the awareness settled in, excitement flooded my mind as I remembered that today was to be marked by a road trip!

Bill, on Falcor II a couple of slips over, had invited me to go along to Don’s Marine Salvage Yard in Largo with him and Mike!  I rolled out of the bunk and proceeded to get ready to go with an unaccustomed sense of purpose.

Falcor II

Out in the cockpit, I made an odd discovery.  The basin had three or four more feet of water in it than is normal.  With a sense of dread, I recalled that my hose connection was leaking and during the night must have filled up the basin, Tampa Bay, the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic, and raised the ocean level world wide. A lot of people were going to be pretty unhappy with me.  And it was only a drip that had done so much damage.  OK, wait a minute, there’s no way.  I then correctly surmised that Hurricane Ike churning offshore, though not coming here, was close enough to provide a mild storm surge along with the howling winds and overcast skies.  I still should fix that drip!

Climbing down the almost vertical ramp from the deck to the dock with a fishing pole was no easy feat for an aged overweight retiree, but I managed to scale down it like a mountain goat with no serious injuries.  I had about an hour to fish, casting my lure as close to the pilings as I could before Bill emerged and it was time for our adventure to begin.

High water in the marina

Mike was waiting for us at the 4 door Chevy Malibu and after initial pleasantries, we cast off and were underweigh with Bill at the helm, Mike sitting aft, and me up front beside Bill.  I was paying close attention to the navigation but was soon completely lost as our voyage consisted of many, many, course changes as we wound our way through down town Tampa.  It was interesting; watching the young pretty people all dressed up, some scurrying along the sidewalks from office to office, and others, seemingly maintaining station at the intersections watching the light signals changing from little walking men to an open hand.  Old memories came back to me of times long gone when I sometimes interacted with such people.

Eventually, almost as if by magic, we were on the Howard Franklin Bridge and with a view of the water, I immediately regained my bearings as I looked longingly out across the open uncrowded expanse.

With our return to the land, my navigational awareness again departed and I just enjoyed the rapidly moving sights until Bill announced that we had arrived.  I was almost disembarked before the car was completely docked.  The sight I was beholding would entice any sailor to jump ship.

I had never even thought of an auto salvage yard for boats.  But here I was, confronted with the enormity of it all.  Bill, Mike, and I, were quickly separated and only occasionally crossed wakes as we cruised amongst the rows of junk and the buildings, sheds, trailers, and racks of more junk.  For a guy, this gigantic place of junk was as beautiful as a sand bar with a palm tree.  Whatever any boat anywhere needs, it’s there among the rows and rows of stuff.  You might never find it, but it’s there!

Several hours later we met back up at the car.  Bill had a spinnaker slide track and a hat full of stainless fittings and bolts, screws, etc.  I had a plastic thru hull that cost me $2.50.  Mike was just puffing on his corncob pipe, empty handed but with the look of someone just emerging from a burlesque show.  I don’t know how to measure our success, but it would require a philosophical approach to do so.

We loaded up, cast off, and pointed our bow toward home, but didn’t make it all the way.  The toil of working the junk yard had taken it’s toll on us and we ended up having to strike our colours and pulled into a Wing House.  Besides the several beers apiece and my grilled grouper sandwich, we managed to render a flock of chickens flightless.  Our waitress, Lisa, had a most interesting hull.  With a bulbous bow and racing transom, she was one of the fastest sloops in the place.  I was proud to sign the papers adopting her and may now have to return to the work force to put her through college.

The absolutely necessary spare part for something

Reluctantly, we climbed back aboard and put the Wing House astern.  The rest of the trip was rather quiet, yet it seemed only a short while later I could see the masts of my beloved boat and home.  The tide may have gone out, but the water had not.  I climbed up the steep incline of the ramp reminiscing of the fun day of adventure ashore and wondering what the hell I’m going to do with a small plastic thru hull.

I hope you enjoyed the road trip with us and may the wind remain abaft your beam.

Nat

Well then. We hid out in Venice for a couple of days looking for the weather in the Gulf to clear up or abate a little. The west winds have the Gulf of Mexico chopped, cloudy and basically unhappy. Yesterday, the 18^th, we decided to head out of Venice and turn left (south). The plan was to head to Charlotte Harbor, Cabbage Key. There is an acclaimed restaurant there where Jimmy Buffet is reported to have written his ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise’ song. It was our intention to devour one of those burgers, and add our dollar bill to the wall of fame.

http://www.cabbagekey.com/

Standing by in Venice

We were unable to dive for sharks teeth in the Gulf as visibility was a foot or less. I suppose my biggest clue to the Gulf conditions should not have been the official inaccurate reports on the radio, but the fact that most of the other boaters that went out of the entrance returned a short time later with everyone having that ‘deer in the headlights look’. Well, that was not stopping me! I’ve got a 40 foot boat and a capable admiral aboard!

Prior to our departure, and during the preplanning phase, I had located a little hideaway behind another key in the area where we were headed. Lots of neat places ahead to explore. Well, all best laid plans are subject to change. The aft head (toilet) had a heart attack. I preformed emergency surgery and discovered that the outflow plumbing hose looked like the arteries of an 800 pound lazy fat guy whose sole sustenance was butter and bacon grease. The 1 ½ inch hose has less than a half inch opening. There was a large build up of plaque reducing the internal opening of the hoses. I’ll have to wait till we get back to the dock and conduct major reconstructive surgery and replace the clogged arteries

So anyhow, we head out the Venice opening to the Gulf with reported 2 foot seas, but still that nagging westerly wind. After clearing the breakwater and turning left we started rolling from side to side, gunwale to gunwale. In reality, the 2 foot seas were 6 footers. Sheree was busy down below putting things back as fast as the seas were shaking them loose. Between her frustrated utterances and Abby’s helpful instructions I could hear that we were losing the battle.

Captain Courageous decided to get back inside the breakwater. I didn’t think that any of us were willing to endure heavy rolling seas for the next 7 hours.

Dinghy ride to the beach

We looked at the weather, timing, navigation issues, and decided to head north. South would happen another day when better weather presented itself. The forecast predicted this crappy wind from the west for the rest of the week.

We made our way to Sarasota Bay and are anchored in the little harbor in front of City Park. It’s really pretty, and they have some beautiful buildings downtown. No rain expected for the next week or so, at least according to the weather guessers.

3am found us jumping out of bed closing hatches in-between lightning strikes all around. We want to take the dinghy to shore for lunch and explore the park, have lunch and just walk around. I looked at the weather radar and well, the no rain for a week prediction shows a long line thunderstorms stretching out into the Gulf going… well, you get the idea.

We thought about heading back to St. Pete Beach, but I’m not wanting to sit in the cockpit driving us through driving rain and lightning bolts. So, sit here at the anchorage, bounce around a bit, and practice our knot tying and dominoes playing.

Maybe we will get to dink into the park this evening when the ‘no rain for weeks’ goes away.

From the decks of the s/v AbbyGale

Being followed home by a dolphin

Well, the weather finally calmed down up in the Manatee River. The winds settled a bit so we hoped into the dink, collected our friends and headed for Desoto Point.

T

The winds began to kick up at about 11pm again. Gusting up to 20. We had swung in numerous circles over the past couple of days while the tides and currents went one way and the wind went another. The anchorage became a little bouncy again but hey, it’s a boat. Off to bed after a long day of adventure and exploring.

Once ashore at Desoto point we walked a trail to where we found a visitor center and museum. The display was very nice with lots to read and even some interactive things. Next was a trail around the park that had a self guided tour. There were cutouts of period figures along with detailed explanations of the events that were depicted. This is an area with quite a lot of history. The walk was welcomed and thouroughly enjoyed.

Well, about 1am we heard a very loud crash up on deck over our heads. Startled awake and jumping onto the deck in my underwear (a scary site) I discovered that we had become attached to a large steel hulled boat on anchor in the same bay. The wind was blowing at 20, his anchor line is riding up my port side stripping off my deck light and tossing it on deck. (the noise) We were kissing his bow with our stern. I ran up to my anchor rode and found that it was piano string tight. I start pulling, and discover that I can’t overcome the 20mph winds so I set up the anchor windless. Sheree is busy tending to the dinghy in tow and physically pushing us off his bow.

After much grunting and groaning we finally freed ourselves from our newest neighbor. He had finally come on deck hearing my engine start up and shouting directions to Sheree while coordinating our separation from his anchor line. The putz could have been a little friendlier, especially since we were in our underwear. There was no damage, other than a slightly bent lifeline clip.

We went to the other end of the bay, upwind of Nat’s boat and reset the anchor. All of the turning back and forth had finally pulled the anchor free and sent us plowing a furrow along the bottom until slowed by the other boat. We had been between Nat’s boat and the one we kissed. Nat was now between us and the boat we kissed.

We stayed awake for a while after that, trying to exhaust adrenalin and get back to sleep. Sheree spent the rest of the night popping up on deck checking our new position.

The next morning we went up in the cockpit for our am coffee. I saw Nat was up so I gave him a call on the phone. “Hey, what are you doing on the other side of us?” I inquired.

Nat told me a story about how he got up at around 2am and saw everything had changed. He immediately assumed that he had broken free and went on to reset his anchor. Sheree and I were chuckling quite hard. I wanted to let Nat think it was him that had drug anchor, but Sheree made me eventually fess up.

We broke anchor (intentionally this time) and got underway. Nat headed home, and we headed south.

The Gulf was rough and choppy so we motored south on the Intercoastal Waterway. It was a nice ride, but a bit windy. We arrived in Sarasota bay intending to visit the Ringling museum, but scratched that when we saw the whitecaps in the anchorage.

Continuing south we ended up in Venice. Were staying put for the next 2 days with just some easy hanging out. I pulled my shoulder terribly bad hauling on the anchor rode so I’ll heal over the next day or so. No heavy lifting or scuba diving for the next few days. There are some geocaches in the area and we will explore Venice by dinghy along the ICW.

Heading for Venice

That’s if for now from the crew of the,

s/v AbbyGale

We arrived Monday afternoon after a nice ride across the Tampa Bay channel and headed south into the Manatee River. We have not been here before so it’s a new place for us. I got to use the new chart plotter to try and keep us in the marked channel, which was really nice. It’s a handy gadget.

The winds were kicked up so we motored here for several reasons. I want to burn out some of the old diesel fuel (purchased at $1.53 a gallon) which has been sitting in the tank for over a year. We just don’t burn lots of fuel on a sailboat. Besides, I want to replace it with some $ 4.50 a gallon fuel as it surely must be better diesel fuel due to the higher cost.

We ran into some old friends who were going on the hook here as well. Nat and Ellen onboard the Sanp1. It’s an older Morgan, big and roomy.

SNAP1 at anchor

We went to the shore and discovered Emerson State Park. It’s an archeological preserve. The place is full of old Indian mounds with loads of history. I towed Nat and Ellen to shore because of the high winds, which have not subsided since our arrival on Monday. (he is outboard-less pending repairs) It would be really nice for the winds to lay off a little bit. The wind generator has been screaming along since our arrival producing lots of free electrons. I’ve not had to run the generator in the past two days to recharge the house batteries. The wind is keeping up with the reefer’s demand for 12 volts just fine.

The beach walk was nice and the preserve had great trails. We found three geocaches in the preserve whilst on a walk about.

Sheree went fishing a couple of times, without success. Just a couple of small critters which were released back into the wild. Fortunately she brought some smoked mullet from Ted Peters fish company before we departed.

If the winds ever die down we are going across the bay. There is a rather large white cross over there. Its got something to do with Hernando DeSoto landing there in the 1500’s. I’ll know more after we pay our visit.

That’s it so far. Kind of windy and chilly this am so we are hiding below decks for now.

From the decks of the s/v AbbyGale