Shakin’ Our Sillies Out

Posted on May 25, 2014 by Melissa

Do you know why they call the first real trip on a new boat the ‘shake down’ cruise? Well, I don’t know either. But I’m imagining it must be one of two reasons:

1. Because you are shaking in your shoes with high anxiety about the docking and undocking of the boat due to the previous traumatic experience with said boat whereby you got stuck in reverse and left a lasting impression on the boat behind you and also on your heavy steel davit.

2. Because all the shaking of the boat due to engines and being tossed around by water is bound to shake some stuff loose that you didn’t know was going to be a problem. Pick one. I guarantee you will be right.

Aside from a whole lot of shaking going on, this weekend found us back in business! I do love a long weekend. In spite of the late start on Friday, due to absolutely ridiculous, just-turn-around-and-go-home traffic, we had an entire day and a half and two nights on S/V Nameless, long enough to get a bunch of things done and actually leave the dock behind for a couple of hours. I’m going to have to soothe you with some garden photos in this post because I was too busy talking myself off of invisible, if not non-existent ledges, to take many pictures this weekend. Why? Because I felt sure we’d be leaving the dock this weekend. And that meant we’d have to come back IN to the marina. Docking, thy name is Nemesis.

Things that got accomplished this weekend include the following: Mike replacing the light I creamed onto the side of the steel fishing boat during the docking fiasco of 2014, I cleaned the starboard side of the deck causing it to look extra spiffy and turn many heads, Shawn aligned the engine and put nylocks on the shaft seal, Mike almost finished the replumbing of the aft head, I took apart and cleaned the dried adhesive off of the old porthole screens, then cut new screens to fit, I took a shower on board for the first time and discovered that the shower works. Let’s see. Anything else? Oh yes! And we took her out on the river for a couple of hours. Just that.

Osprey feeding it’s fledgling.

I really look forward to the day when I can take this whole docking/leaving thing in stride the way Mike appears to do. Appears. That is the operative word here. It’s fascinating, in a morbid sort of way, how my mind will picture our marina as very small, with tight turning required, and other boats just waiting for the chance to jump our at us. In fact, there is a lot of room for error, plenty of turning room, and the slip is very wide. I have to constantly remind myself of that. I am hopeful this is only a learning curve, and not a harbinger of things to come. Because I truly hate feeling that way.

This time I didn’t even bother to try to drive the boat in the marina. I’ll save that for later when I’m back to feeling like my usual confident self. We got out without incident, all large fishing vessels left safely behind us. The river was flat and fairly calm as we tootled up river at a crisp 9 knots, the sun shining for once. This boat can move! Frankly, my body is still accustomed to Moonrise, our old Cal 34, and 9 knots feels like we’re flying. I actually wanted to slow down. It’s hard to appreciate the scenery with all that speed. And what’s the hurry anyhow?

We played with the autopilot and it works well, having only 33 hours on the unit at this point. Mike got the electronics to all get along and speak the same language so we had our depth, speed, and all that. I am glad we got the Garmin chartplotter as all the commands are so familiar to us. We enjoyed having the AIS, looking at the names of all the ships it looked like we would be hitting. Seriously, the system is so sensitive that in an area like the lower Columbia River, if you went only by the warning system on the AIS, you’d think you were in grave danger all the time. Even sitting at the dock. I do like how it will tell you how long before you feel the crunch of impact and become the little ‘wreck’ icon on the screen. So cheerful. It’s nice to be warned. All kidding aside, it’s dead useful.

By the time we turned around, the weather, too, was turning and not for the better. We cruised down river into gusty wind and waves and I prepared mentally and physically to meet my maker. I mean to meet my nemesis. I mean, to do my part in the docking dance. Now, I had asked people who watch our Facebook page to do the ritual hand clapping, spinning, and spitting so that we’d have an uneventful docking experience. If you were among the spinners and spitters, I am grateful to you and you can take credit for a job well done. The rest of you…well… you know who you are and I can only hope that if you ever cross the equator you will be prepared with the appropriate rituals at that time. We got on the dock after only two tries, with no hitting of any other object. Our first try was thwarted by a docking stick, which is supposed to be helpful but wasn’t. We’ll try that again another time and let you know how it goes.

After the first miss, my brain almost went crazy. Neurons were firing at anything they saw. I had an almost out-of-body experience as I realized that I literally didn’t know what to do. I remember vaguely noticing I was wearing my life jacket and thinking this was probably a smart idea. I had to pull myself together with a stern, “White! Pull yourself together, woman! Go get that stern line and I mean NOW!”. (I am the only one who can talk to me that way. If anyone else were to try, he would be in serious peril. Just saying.) Mike was cool as winter. He backed out of the slip, because we were too far from the dock for me to step off, backed way out into the marina, and tried again. This time I was able to step off the boat and get the stern line cleated off, at which point I lost 30 pounds and my blood pressure dropped 50 points. My brain began to receive oxygen again because I remembered to breathe. Anxiety is the biggest bitch in the world. Logic says, ‘this boat has been around a long time in rougher circumstances than this’, but my brain and body say, ‘WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!’. Ridiculous.

Message to dock: I will rule you eventually. I may have trauma lodged in my body right now, but I know how to work it, sister, so I’m coming for you. Eventually.

Tomorrow we go to Fisheries Supply in Seattle to spend the 200$ gift certificate for new dock lines that I won at the Women’s Boating Seminar. This is sure coming at a good time because we can really use some new dock lines. We have the old kind of rope, stiff with salt, and worn in many places. It’s time for new ones. Many thanks to Andy at Northwest Rigging in Anacortes for donating the gift certificate.

Oh, and the ‘silly’ that got shaken loose during the 2 hour cruise today? The water pump. It’s now leaking like a sieve. It looks like it’s original to the boat, so no surprise there. It’s now next on the agenda. We know it’s a ‘Shurflo’, but sure enough, that’s all we know.

Jiggety Jig

Posted on May 18, 2014 by Melissa

We’ll certainly be dancing a jig when these drives to Astoria are over. I almost named this post ‘New Lamps for Old’, but in that story, the old lamp holds a powerful genie. As far as we can tell, we might have an old boat, but there is no genie inside because so far we’ve been unsuccessful in using magic to make headway on all the projects. No, the only thing we’re trading so far is one problem for another, some big, some small, some easy, some hard, some cheap…no, that’s a lie. None of them are cheap. But we knew that going in, so whatever. We can’t really complain about that.

Still, there is progress. Our exhaust guy, Caleb, finished the new exhaust elbow and a fine piece of metal art it is. It fit perfectly and he even machined a brace for it. Take a look:

You can’t really see the brace, but it’s on the right toward the bottom of the insulation wrap. Simple, effective.

He installed the piece, Mike happily wrote him a check for his work, and then Mike completed the installation of the hoses and the insulation wrap. He used one roll of the wrap, and there is another in reserve if it’s necessary. The stuff does take up some space, though, so if we can get away with using only the one, we’ll be glad. No modification of the shelf or rearranging of the hoses for the hot water tank proved necessary. Two fewer small tasks to accomplish. We’ll take that. The good news is that this project is finished (knocking firmly on wood), ready for Shawn to come down to the boat and address the shaft/engine alignment once more. We are keeping fingers crossed that he can do that this week, as since he started on our job, Shawn has received a huge contract for on-going work for his business. He’s a very busy guy. We might be small potatoes to him, but we know he wants this off his plate.

The other good news is that it looks like our tweaking of the transmission cables is going to work out. We won’t know for certain until the prop is engaged, but it’s looking good. It would be terrific if we didn’t have to mess with that anymore. Let’s all knock on more wood, throw salt over our shoulders, and spit three times while spinning, okay? We may not have any genies, but who knows what other kinds of gods are watching?

The problem ‘de la semaine’, as it were, is the Airmar 744VL transducer that is supposed to be talking to our new Garmin 820XS chartplotter. Mike bought a special cable to connect the two so they would speak the same language. Yet it remains silent, which means we have no depth showing up on the GPS. Curses! Foiled again! Mike spent several hours tweaking and problem solving, to no avail. I am encouraging him to call Garmin and discuss this issue, as we are hoping their reputation for good customer service (which was one reason we chose to stick with that brand of chartplotter) will bear fruit. If any readers have knowledge of this problem, please do comment.

While Mike and Caleb played with their tools in the man cave, I began a very important task that has waited long enough. Cleaning the cockpit. With all the engine work, moving of stuff onto and off the boat, grit from being near a bridge, and the fact that winter is barely over, the cockpit was a pit of filth, not to mention the ubiquitous green algae that marks a boat from the Pacific Northwest. I got to work with scrub brushes and a mild bleach cleaner. Nothing kills algae like bleach. Of course, once I began cleaning, I had a hard time knowing where to stop, as the deck needs a scrub, too. Several hours later I could barely move, but by God my cockpit was lovely to behold. Remind me to buy a Costco bottle of aspirin for the boat. The rest of the deck awaits my attention. I got out the bottom siders and the cushion covers, et voila. Gracious living, sailboat style. Stunts performed by Skipperdee.

While I was cleaning, two new sailboats came in and docked at the guest moorage. And both of them had trouble docking because of the current. I looked up just as this guy hit the boat next to him in the slip.

A beautiful aluminum Frers design.

No harm done as the boat is aluminum, and the boat he nudged is steel with a lot of tires hanging like fenders on the side. I ran down and he threw his stern line to me and soon he was snugged to the dock. He was single handing and I don’t know how he would have docked the thing in that current without help since he was almost sideways in the slip by the time I got to him. The other boat that came in was a Nauticat motor sailor and they looked like they had good control until they slowed down to make the turn into their slip. Then they started drifting quickly away from the dock. Mike and I ran to grab their lines as well.

All that’s to say that we cannot wait to get out of this marina. It has served its purpose and we’ve enjoyed the area, but we are ready to bring this boat home as soon as possible. Being right in the midst of that current is not my idea of where I want to be when trying to learn to dock this boat. I can see why there are so many steel boats in this marina, since apparently it’s not unusual for there to be games of bumper tag at the dock. But our boat isn’t made of steel, or even aluminum. And I don’t want to hurt it. We’re not even docked in a proper slip, because the piling fell over months ago and it still isn’t fixed.

When these things come to town, the marina parking lot and bathrooms are turned over to the tourists. It’s quite a show.

No, reasons to leave are stacking up. Between the three hour drive, the increasing traffic due to summer approaching, the lack of security, the closing of the marina parking lots to accommodate the cruise ships, the lack of a secure slip, and the constant wind and current, we’re pretty much done. We’ll miss Astoria, but we’re ready to go. We’re ready to have this boat in our home waters, waters we know well after 10 years of sailing them. Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

Engine Exhaust(ing) Episode 254 and Counting

Posted on May 11, 2014 by Melissa

In case you noticed, I skipped posting last week. File this one under ‘be careful what you wish for, especially if you put it in writing on the interwebs’. If you’ll recall, at the end of our last post, I said that we ‘seriously need a break from this 3 hour drive to Astoria every weekend’. I had in mind that we would get that break because Mike’s sister, Molly, was coming to visit and we would be spending a week showing her the finer points of the Pacific Northwest. The gods, however, had other plans for us.

Mike had a fever and chills by the time we left Astoria two weeks ago, and then on Tuesday of that week, the very day Molly landed at Sea Tac Airport, I came down with the fever and what we’ve come to term ‘the sleeping sickness’. With this particular virus, from which we are both still recovering, sleeping for a good 12 hours per night seems to be the order of things. That and, in my case, maintaining a nice ‘fever on my head’. Just enough to keep my mind in a muddle and make me a really super hostess. So yeah, we got our break. And I was too busy sleeping to post to the blog. Thanks, gods of illness. We’ll be more careful with our invocations next time.

Babies have come to Astoria. We also have a sparrow nest on top of the radar reflector. Hope they fledge before we leave the dock.

Still, we did manage one trip down to Astoria last Monday to meet with our new exhaust man, Caleb Michalsky. Caleb understood the situation and we talked exhaust elbow heights and all that jazz. What really helped me sleep more soundly for those 12 hours per night, however, was that I was able to measure the exact height differential from the sole of the boat to the exhaust going out of the boat and Caleb was able to translate this measurement in the engine room at the water line and use this calculation to design the new elbow. I felt better already, and so did Mike. If the boat were in Tacoma where we could just run down there and fit and refit things easily, we’d maybe have been more likely to take on this project ourselves. But as it is, with a three hour drive just to see if something fits, it just doesn’t make sense for us to try to do this ourselves. So we want Caleb to do it for us.

Caleb and Mike discuss the finer points of exhaust pipes.

This weekend he came down to the boat and showed us what he has so far and it all makes sense and looks like good work. He was able to use the flange part of the elbow we bought from Beta Marine so that the new piece fits exactly the way the factory piece fit. He should be able to complete this job fairly quickly and then we’ll get Shawn back down to get the engine back in alignment. It can’t happen fast enough for us. Not being satisfied with only one good mechanic, we now have two.

Checking the fit. There will be a few other minor adjustments of things like the hose to the water heater, etc.

You’ll remember that we were having a bit of trouble fitting the steering pedestal, with its new throttle and transmission cables and new levers, back together. This whole project has created an opportunity for serious contemplation of the meaning of life and what it must be like to be the great Creator of all. I mean, have you ever tried to finagle something this complicated, where each piece is machined with the precision of a southern marching band and one small detail overlooked simply destroys the entire design? It’s flipping ridiculous. We’ve put this thing together at least 12 times and it’s still not right. I need to be able to literally stand in the center of this whole thing and see how each piece interacts with each other piece, and how those pieces interact with all the pieces that surround them both inside and outside the pedestal. It’s taken us this many tries, we still have it wrong, and they tell me that the Creator made the heavens and earth and all His minions in SEVEN days? I think not, people. I seriously think not. Not without a crap ton of mistakes.

We were so close to victory we could smell it. We had the compass back in place, we had adjusted the cables to within millimeters of their lives, we had removed everything one more time because we realized that the stainless steel pedestal guard would not clear the hard dodger unless we installed it into the top plate BEFORE we screwed everything down again.

Curses. Foiled again.

We had rewired the electronics through the holes Mike had drilled. It all went together like a dream and our hearts began to beat in time with one another, the sweet taste of success just that close to our very lips. Then we played with the new shiny levers, so smooth, so perfect. So. Completely. Wrong.

That’s right. So wrong. Because when you put the beast into forward gear, the lever hits the pedestal guard. You can’t get the thing out of neutral. When you rev the engine on the other side, you can get the lever to go only a little better than halfway before it hits the binnacle. Curses all around, folks. Many, many curses.

Oopsie

Mike went below to think about this. I stayed in the cockpit cursing Edson for making things that look like they will fit together, but don’t. Maybe the new top plates (remember the thing we saved 100$ by recycling) extend the pedestal guard out further from the pedestal. But then, of course, that would mean the pedestal guard we have wouldn’t fit, and we’d have to drill additional holes in the floor of the cockpit. Oy vey. Maybe, I think, we could have pieces welded onto the top plate that would push the guard forward a bit. We’d still have to drill new holes but that would be one solution. Or maybe it’s a simple fix by changing the cables somehow. Hope springs ever eternally.

At the end of the day, Mike read in the Edson manual under ‘troubleshooting’ (ya think?) that adjusting the cables could solve this problem. So we took the beast apart again and did all the adjusting we could possibly do. We are not at all sure that it’s enough, and we won’t know until the engine is ready to fire up again. Mike was thinking Edson would, perhaps, make extensions to bring the handles out a couple of inches. Nope. Nada. (That would just make way too much sense, wouldn’t it?) Then he read that others have had this problem and they have put the things in a vice and taken the bend out of them. But you have to be careful not to break them. So that’s where we’re at. Not a total loss by any means, but not the sweet, sweet victory we had anticipated. That will teach us humility.

Two inches more would be terrific.

In other news, being sick and tired of paying a dog sitter, we took the Skippy dog with us this weekend and he rocked it! Getting him down into the boat is an issue, as he doesn’t care to be lifted. It scares him a bit looking down into the salon from the cockpit. But he has already discovered he can jump off the boat onto the dock (not necessarily a good thing but he’s such an anxious sort that we were heartened by this) and he has found his way around the deck and had some good cockpit sleeps already. Maybe he’ll turn into an okay boat dog on this bigger boat. He slept in our cabin on the floor and was really a good boy.

Finally feeling a little relaxed.

We are seriously looking forward to having S/V Nameless in Tacoma where we can be closer to her and learn her in the protected and well-known waters of Puget Sound. Yes, she remains nameless, although we think perhaps we’ll name her after our first Australian Shepherd. Still, I’m not completely satisfied with that. It feels a bit like a ‘default’ name. We’ve knocked around some names I like better but I guess there is no hurry. Except that I think she is waiting.

Here’s Skippy’s story in photos because he has a very expressive face offering a number of decent photo ops and some good comic relief: