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Best of LCP

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I got a message on our Facebook page this week from a new reader who wanted me to send her a link to the first post on our blog so she could read all the way through from the beginning. I obliged, gladly, and then realized just how many blog posts we have on this thing. Using the time honored technique called “counting” I became overwhelmed after reaching the 100 mark. So there are well over 100 posts. I am either verbose or dedicated. You be the judge.  Some days I can’t tell which. This week we went over 100,300 page views, which I consider amazing. On a good day, we get over 200 views and on a sterling day, we get over 400. The record for the best day is 720 views. Mike holds that record due completely to luck and the fact that I had to work. (See below)

Mike's turn at the wheel. Sometimes we miss this boat.

Mike’s turn at the wheel. Sometimes we miss this boat.

I have never gone back and read the entire blog myself, so what the heck? Why not? I discovered that the first year was filled with fun and our excitement about the plan was palpable. The second year I found pretty boring, and the blog posts reflected how frustrated we were with the the process of selling Moonrise, falling in love with Flying Gull (which, according to the Coast Guard website, has a new owner), and looking for the right boat for us. The third year starts about the time we found our current boat, the Olympic Adventure 47, “Nameless One”. Thank God year two is history. I’m surprised anyone kept reading through that dry spell that on reflection seems filled with almost adolescent angst. Sheesh.

As I read through the posts, one thing that really stood out is that people who don’t know us would think our lives are filled with drama. Kind of like TV news, blogs make the world seem like a much less mundane place that it is in actuality. I assure you that we are pretty boring stuff when it comes to day to day existence. But boring stuff doesn’t sell newspapers, you know? Still, reading through some parts of the history deposited here make us sound very much like people who live on the raw organic edge. Rolling On Floor Laughing Out Loud.

In honor of my having nothing better to do with my time, I thought I would occasionally throw in a ‘Best of Little Cunning Plan’ post with links to some of what I think are the best posts from previous years; posts I actually enjoy reading and that don’t make me cringe in awkward embarrassment. These are the ones that either made me laugh out loud, or made me want to cry all over again.

Tony, hammer in one hand, ice pick and chalk in another. He sails an Albin 30. He surveyed three boats for us this year.

Tony Allport, hammer in one hand, ice pick and chalk in another.  He surveyed three boats for us this year.

Photo Tribute to Moonrise -The boat that started it all. And for those who are newer readers, our fears about being boatless turned out to be groundless. That never happened.

Hope Springs Eternal – An appropriate post for anyone who is anxious for the future to be the now.

Michael’s Pretty Good Day – The single highest page count ever; the 720 view day. I’d like to say I’ve forgiven Mike for being alone on the boat that day, but that would be a lie. He owes me big time. Still.

And finally, these two posts about being two gringos who travel to La Paz without a boat. Seriously, why would we ever do that?

Mexico A Go-Go   and

Baja Buena

Enjoy our checkered past.

 

S/V "nameless one' for now. Here's to finding the right name, and better luck next time on docking.

S/V “Nameless One’ for now. Here’s to finding the right name and having some honest to goodness sailing adventures.

 

Dodging Bullets

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Well, I can say this: after last weekend’s triple play smack down, it was hard for this weekend to be anything but better. And it WAS better. The good news is we GET TO KEEP OUR ENGINE! Oh happy day! You can believe that we are ecstatic that the engine is fine, that we don’t have to haul out again, that all the work we’ve accomplished in the last few months won’t have to be done over again. Although I would not say that it was exactly a ‘blessing’ to have to hit another boat during a docking, I would say that it is a good thing the transmission lever was giving us enough trouble to cause us to turn around and go back because had we not come back to the dock when we did, we would have had much worse problems.

Here's hoping for more views like this soon.

Here’s hoping for more views like this soon.

If we’d stayed out longer we would have quickly lost all the rest of the bolts on our shaft coupling. The locking washers, sold to our mechanic by the local marine store, completely failed. There was no way to predict this failure. They were stainless steel lock washers and should have worked. Let that be a caution to all of you using this type of lock washer in a critical area. Check them frequently. Why did they fail? Who knows? Maybe cheap steel. PROBABLY cheap steel.  And they failed magnificently. They were almost completely flat so the vibration of the engine worked the bolts loose easily. Had they all fallen out while we were under way, we would have had a true emergency.

So this weekend, after a week of worry, we met our mechanic down at the boat on Saturday to attend to this problem of water in the oil in our new baby Beta. We knew, because of Tate and Dani at Sundowner Sails Again, that we’d have to do several oil changes to remove all the water from our engine.  What we didn’t yet know was what had caused the trouble to begin with.

It’s not supposed to look like that. I apologize for any heart palpitations this photo may cause sailboat owners.

Shawn began by draining the engine completely and then filling it with 1/2 oil, 1/2 diesel.  Mike, acting as the wrench monkey, turned the engine over a few times to move the solution through. This was drained and a solution of 1/3 diesel and 2/3 oil was run through the same way.  He then did two complete oil changes the usual way, running the engine for about 30 minutes between each one. Then today, on Easter Sunday, Mike did another oil change and ran the engine for another 30 minutes.  She starts right up and runs like a dream. After running the engine today, the oil looked like new oil. Whew! Dodged that bullet! To be double dog sure, we’ll be doing another 2 oil changes next weekend. Can’t be too careful with this baby.

This short video shows the engine running and how Shawn rigged it so that the water would exit the exhaust system rather than get back into the engine. [vsw id=”1QiAbBFtZnE” source=”youtube” width=”425″ height=”344″ autoplay=”no”]

So what caused this water problem? The engine never hydro-locked. In fact it ran really well the whole time, pushing the boat at a cool 9.5 knots without even breaking a sweat. Well here’s the lesson for anyone who is installing a new engine in an old boat: You can install the engine exactly to the specs in the manual, you can order the tall exhaust elbow because you want to be extra careful and learn from others, but if your exhaust hose is long, and if it rises above the highest level of the exhaust elbow, you’re going to get back flow. And if you have a large amount of water in the hose, the pressure might be enough to backflow past that exhaust elbow, even if you DID get the higher one from Beta to avoid just this kind of problem.  So basically just because you follow directions doesn’t mean you are safe and don’t you forget it!

Nicely wrapped high rise exhaust elbow from Beta Marine. Didn’t do us a bit of good.

When Shawn originally went down to the boat to figure out the problem, he checked the exhaust elbow first thing and it was completely dry. This led him to believe something might be amiss inside the engine, requiring us to have the actual engine repaired. Our operating assumption this week was based on this finding, hence the fear we would be back on the hard during sailing season. However, when he went down to the boat yesterday, after it had been sitting all week being tossed around a bit by wind and waves, he found water in the exhaust. This caused him to look more critically at why that might be.

The exhaust hose from the engine runs out the back of the engine room,  under the sole of the aft cabin, then rises along the hull under the berth before dipping down a bit to the exhaust pipe on the starboard side of the boat. It’s almost impossible to ascertain with any precision where the top of the hose is in relation to the top of the exhaust elbow in the engine room. So even while Mike painstakingly ordered, and paid for, the extra tall exhaust elbow from Beta Marine, and even while he and Shawn measured the required distance above the water line to be sure the installation was correct, that did not guarantee this problem would not occur. We’ll be sure to remember that when we do our next engine installation. Right. Pardon me while I run screaming.

Coming from the muffler and running along the hull, then up and under the berth before going out of the boat.

So what’s the solution? Well if you own a sailboat you’ve probably already determined that the solution is to have a part especially made for this. Oh yes, we will have a ‘custom’ boat for sure. Shawn got a piece of spring steel (because we have no wire hangers on board) and crafted the shape of a new exhaust elbow which will be made just for this boat. No other boat will have one like it! Isn’t that exciting? No it is not. But it is a relief to know that it’s not quite as expensive as it all sounds. This elbow will go really, really high. Frankly, I’d be happier if it went all the way to the ceiling of the engine room, but Shawn thinks this will fix the problem so what do I know?

Mike is holding the steel wire shaped like our soon-to-be made exhaust elbow.

One question we are batting around has to do with the laws of physics in this system.  The exhaust elbow connection is 50mm on this engine. This is connected to the existing muffler, which is a 60mm connection. Since we had two brand new Vetus mufflers, we decided to use one of those, right? No problem there. But the exhaust hose coming out the back of the muffler and traveling to the tailpipe is also 60mm, which means it holds a greater volume of water than the 50mm exhaust elbow on the engine side of the system.  My question for the physics teachers out there is this: is this greater volume of water, especially given the long run and steep incline up the hull of this exhaust hose, likely to overwhelm the system? A bigger hose and longer run means more water building up in the system before it actually leaves the boat via the exhaust pipe. Maybe this doesn’t make any difference. But I’d like to be sure of it. Of course, our new exhaust elbow that reaches to the sky should be able to handle this. But we want this system as bullet proof as possible, so the question needs asking. I foresee deep discussions with the mechanic about this.

The engine finally filled with clean oil, we turned our attention to the transmission. To fix the issue with the transmission cables, Mike had ordered a new system from Edson, the manufacturer of the steering pedestal. The new system has a groovy piece that actually holds both cables in place so they can’t get all jammed up against things in the pedestal. This should fix our ability to move either forward or reverse as the situation requires.

Old vs.new.

I got to help with this project! Reading the directions on how to install the thing made it sound pretty difficult and Mike was dreading the frustration that seemed his destiny. So we thought up a better way.  Mike hung a string over the steering wheel shaft and down into the engine room. He then attached the string to the clevis of each cable and attached the cables to the cable retainer. The retainer has a bolt that comes through a hole Mike had to drill in the pedestal. The issue was going to be getting that bolt situated in the hole.

You can see the little hole Mike drilled for the bolt just there below the spoke on the wheel.

I pulled on the string, pulling the cables and retainer up into the pedestal. Mike watched from below and when I got the thing positioned just so, he used a long, thin piece of teak to just lightly nudge the bolt home. A slight shove from the teak and ‘Bob’s your uncle’! The bolt came through the hole and I had it capped off with the nut in a twinkle. No frustration, no drama.

Next we had to attach the shift levers to each clevis. A little trial and error helped us decide which hole was best, but the nut beneath the clevis on the throttle cable kept snagging on lip inside the pedestal no matter what adjustments we made. Mike’s contribution to the solution for this was to remove the nut, as he said it was redundant, unnecessary.  That made the rubbing a little better but I couldn’t leave it like that, knowing that metal was going to rub on metal and eventually that was going to cause problems. I took a round metal file and filed off some material in that area, just enough to give a hair more clearance for the cable. That’s all it took and the cables were both free to move as they needed to without rubbing up against the chain or the inside of the pedestal.

Nice and tidy! These clearances are so small you can barely see them.

Next we began to put the pedestal guard back on and here’s where we hit a snag. You knew things were going along too easy, didn’t you? The housing for the new control system is actually about an inch higher than the old one. That gives us a little more room inside the pedestal, which is good. But it also means that the top plate that the compass rests on is now too high off the floor of the cockpit. So when we put the top plate on and screw it down, the legs of the pedestal guard hang loose rather than going into their nice housing like good children.

Here’s the difference in size. Just enough to make it difficult.

Whanging on it didn’t do much good.

Those feet just barely touch their receivers.

So this is our first world problem for this week: how to raise that top plate because we do not want to buy a whole new pedestal guard. We’ve already tried banging on it. We squirted it with Kroil Penetrating Oil, and Mike got out his butane torch. But he can’t afford to use too much heat because there are electrical wires running inside the thing. We buttoned it up and left it for next weekend. We’re trying to avoid having him take the wires out, because he’s already hooked up the radio and that’s just, well, it’s just a kick in the pants to have to cut a perfectly done installation. So we’ll see if whanging on it will help next weekend. I mean, what else are we going to do at the dock?

In other news this weekend, I fixed the hole in the cockpit enclosure. Recall Mike put his foot through it during the docking fiasco. I stitched the zipper, and repaired the tears with sail tape. It isn’t pretty, but I don’t care. We’ll have to have a new one before we go on the long trip anyway. It will do.

And you may have noticed that we are referring to ‘the boat’ rather than calling her by name. That’s because at the end of last weekend we did the de-naming ceremony. We did it properly, all solemn and prayerful and dedicated our last beer to the gods of the sea. I don’t know if I wanted a clean slate after that weekend or what, but I wanted this done so we did it. Now we are struggling to name her. But at least she is not working under a false identity. Hoping we would come up with a name this week, I bought two bottles of nice champagne for the honors but we’re still working on it. I thought Easter Sunday would be the perfect day for a christening. I was to be thwarted in that. Oh well. We’re ready with the champagne whenever.

Our sacrifice to the gods. I hope they appreciated it.

We leave you with a photo of a boat we saw at the boat yard today. File this under ‘you think WE have problems?’.  It puts everything in perspective.

She’s really kind of cute, although I’m not sure what she is.

But this:

Ouch.

 

 

Get Back on That Horse and Ride!

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I’m going to do my best to write all this in one coherent post without resorting to expletives. After all, it’s too easy to resort to words like ‘Shit!’ and ‘Fuck!’ when expressing outrage, dismay, anger, and disappointment. That’s not a very creative use of language. I like to think I’m a better wordsmith than to rely on simple expletive.  And I would never take the easy way out. If I were to use words like ‘G** damn it all to hell!’ you might think that I didn’t give my posts much consideration. You would be wrong, but even so, this weekend SUCKED! And it sucked bad.

Is she worth it? We still think so.

Is she worth it? We still think so. We hope so.

The weekend started off great. We tootled down to Portland’s new West Marine where our  Garmin 820xs was waiting for us. The new West Marine store in Jantzen Beach is just lovely and electronics sales associate Dan was very helpful and solicitous of our business. We bought the chart plotter, a handheld GPS for back up (because we just like to have a reliable handheld unit), and a G2 Vision card. Yes, we dropped some money there. But we were flying high when we left and it was money we knew we would be spending anyway.

It was a beautiful, warm sunny day and as soon as we got to the boat Mike began the installation of the electronics. He was like a kid at Christmas with his new stuff and everything was working out really well. It all came together for him and that chart plotter is just glorious. We love it. Of course we have to order a special connector to get it to get information from the triducer, which is manufactured by Raymarine, but this will happen.

We’ve been through this before with Moonrise, so my heart didn’t skip a beat when Mike drilled into the stainless.

While Mike worked his magic on the electronics installations, I got on top of the dodger to finish sealing up the window there. Then I deployed the cockpit enclosure. My thought was to make sure I knew how it went together and see if it would serve a couple of seasons before being replaced. All of the snaps had been removed from the hard dodger when it was last painted, so I had to replace those. Fortunately we had a good supply, left on the boat by the previous owner. I got the thing up and we reveled in having a protected outdoor space from which to view our surroundings. To say we love that cockpit enclosure would be to seriously understate the fact. There will be a new one before we ‘leave the dock’ for the long voyage.

Interesting photo of me on the boom.

And here’s the cockpit enclosure from the inside. Notice in the first photo the boat is sporting her cockpit finery.

I’ve always wanted one of these.

Last weekend we got the genoa back on. This weekend we installed the mainsail. This was an exercise in patience and stamina as the wind was abeam and nothing we could do about that. Eventually we got her on, but we’ll wait for a quiet anchorage out of the wind to put in the battens.

By Sunday at lunchtime all these things were accomplished. We knew we’d have to wait for the connection to the transducer to get the water depth. Meanwhile we have charts, which have depth, and we were anxious to get this boat off the dock and out into the river. The new engine has not yet been commissioned. This is a process by which you put it through its paces at different RPM’s in order to break it in. That needed to happen.

The difference between a great day and a disastrous day starts with one small decision. And this one was ours. Who knew?

Notice the location of the entrance to the marina. We are just backing away from the dock. You will need this information later.

Mike was at the wheel for the 8 or 9 point turn it took to get us out of the marina. Why so many turns? Well it’s like this: our dock is right at the mouth of the entrance to the marina. It is not protected from wind or from current because of its location, a fact that has kept me up at night as I envisioned learning to handle this boat at the same time that we are dealing with significant current and the ever present significant wind in the Astoria area. You know the rule about going ‘dead slow’ in a marina? That does not work for us. If we do not pick up speed quickly, the current takes us where it wants us to go. This is also true when getting to our dock. Please remember this fact later, as there will be a quiz.

We were so happy to be out on the water again! I breathed a sigh of relief, my heart rate returning to normal as we left that damned marina behind.  A glorious, sunny and warm day, new territory to explore, and a beautiful boat to explore it with. What could be better? We cracked open a couple of cold beers and clinked bottles in a toast to our good fortune. Our plan was to meander up the river for a bit, putting the engine through its paces. Then we would find a place in the lee of the land where we could practice backing up and maybe even learn to deploy that anchor! Oh we had plans, alright. Big plans.

We do really love this chart plotter. The ‘no touch screen’ works best for us because touch screens many times disagree with my ideas of how they should work.

After our first sips of our celebratory libation, I revved the engine up to about 1500rpm per Mike’s instructions. Mike looked behind us and noticed white smoke billowing out from the rear. WHAT?? He popped down into the engine room, but things looked fine and the smoke went away. Everything appeared to be working fine and the Beta Marine engine sounded and performed well. So we carried on. Because ignorance is bliss and we were happy in ours.

Next there came a loud noise of unknown origin and disturbing vibration from the general direction of the underbelly of the beast. Alarmed, Mike popped back into the engine room to check on the baby. Again, nothing appeared amiss and the engine was performing well. I mean really well! We were pushing 9 knots against a considerable current and we didn’t even have the thing wide open. We could not identify the noise and he rationalized that maybe something had been caught on the prop and had worked its way off. Hmmm. At that point, it was the only explanation we could figure but we both knew that was wrong. And so it proved.

Finally being back on the water was awesome for awhile.

Enjoying the day and the ubiquitous sea lions, and absolutely loving our cockpit enclosure, we made for Tongue Point where the chart showed an area of water plenty deep, but protected from the wind.  We planned to practice maneuvering the boat. We had noticed that the shifting from forward to neutral to reverse was stiff. Mike had already ordered a new part for the steering pedestal, but it was set to arrive this week. The shift was stiff, but it worked. As we closed on Tongue Point, we worked the shifter from neutral to reverse, back to neutral, and forward. We were not happy. What had started out to be just stiff, was now recalcitrant. After many trips to the engine room to sort out the shifting we decided we’d better get back to the marina.

It was when we were close to Tongue Point that we had noticed the bilge pump was coming on intermittently. This particular pump has a hair trigger and is likely to come on if it’s nudged the wrong way by a wave. The pump wasn’t working hard, just gurgling briefly. Still, anytime a bilge pump thinks it has a job to do, it’s worth investigating. Another pop down to the engine room to take a look. The bilge looked dry. And yet, on the trip back, the pump kept coming on. Since we weren’t sinking, Mike said he’d figure out what was going on when we got back to the dock.

I took the wheel to get us into the marina because I somehow believe that I must face my fears head on. What I’d really LIKE to do is just let Mike do all the docking all the time. But that’s not really fair and, after all, I always docked Moonrise. When Mike docked this boat for the first time, it went without a hitch. If he could do it, I could probably do it too. (Beats head against wall.) He reminded me to keep speed until the last minute so the current wouldn’t push me into the wall, and then went to get the lines ready.

Had there not been current and wind, my first try would have nailed it perfectly. But I was going too slow and the current was going faster. It pushed us too far away from the dock.  I had to back up and try over again. Had the gear shift not stuck in reverse, all would have been well. But the gear shift DID stick in reverse. I could not put the thing in forward to save my life. Or to keep our boat from hitting the large steel fishing boat behind us. I will never forget that feeling as long as I live; completely helpless to keep this thing from happening, both hands pushing with all my might on the gear shift trying to get that boat to move anywhere but where it was headed. There was no time and the shifter would not budge.  Our steel davit hit the boat behind us and my stomach dropped into the sea. Maybe it was the jolt from the impact, but suddenly the gear shifted into neutral, and another shove moved it into forward. I don’t remember getting the boat close enough to the dock for Mike to toss the line to the dock hand, but apparently I did.

In retrospect, I don’t even know if it made any noise. Trauma is like that. You record different aspects of the event as different types of memories. I remember how it felt. But I don’t remember how it sounded, or how fast I was going. I remember the Coast Guard boat fueling up, all hands watching what probably looked like the Ricky and Lucy show, but what was really a woman trying to get a boat in gear and a husband running to the aft deck to… to do what? Prevent it somehow? As if. I remember, too, the marina dock hand shouting at me to put it in forward, as though I didn’t know that’s what I needed to do. If only I could tell those people that I’m not a complete rube, that I’ve docked a boat hundreds of times, even if it wasn’t this particular boat, that it wasn’t my fault. But I was at the wheel, so it definitely feels like my fault. Definitely.

That heavy davit used to be straight. The light was on the end of the davit.

The damage was minimal, really. Our rear light is gone, our davit is slightly bent, and the big steel boat has a scratch on the paint. The davit acted like a shock absorber. The deck on our boat where the davit is attached is fine. We were very lucky. Or my angels were working overtime. We hope to keep insurance companies out of the mix. The davit will still work. His paint can be repaired. The light can be replaced. And eventually I’ll have to get back on that horse and ride it. But I’ll need a prescription for Xanax first.

That’s the scratched area, under the double ‘L’. I’m so happy this boat is made of steel.

Shell shocked from this failure on so many levels, I sat in the salon and tried to put myself together while Mike went to check on the bilge pump. I’m listening to him move around in the engine room and I hear him say ‘OH SHIT!’. Mike doesn’t generally curse. It’s beneath his nature and it’s undignified. But anyone would curse when they have just determined that the reason the bilge pump is coming on is because the shaft seal is leaking. And the reason the shaft seal is leaking is because one bolt has come completely out and another bolt came out in his hand when he touched it. The other two were finger loose. This is worthy of many curse words, most worse than what he said. Somehow the lock washers the mechanic used for this piece did not hold. In fact, they had been completely flattened. Maybe made of Chinese steel? I’m pretty sure they are not supposed to do that. Likely that terrible noise we heard was that first bolt being thrown. He found it under the engine.

The leak was considerable but not a gusher. Still, it was a solid stream of water that had the bilge pump coming on every 15 minutes or so for a few seconds.  Mike called the mechanic and told him the bad news. Then we arranged for someone to take care of Skippy for another night and Mike called in to take today off from work.  We had to spend the night on the boat because there was no way we were going to leave a boat with that kind of leak.  Mike tried everything to get the leak to stop but was unsuccessful because he doesn’t have the right tools. The mechanic, chagrined to say the least, said he’d be out there today to fix it and this time he would use nylocks on the thing. I’m sure he will. I’m also sure that from now on Mike will be checking that thing every single time we take the boat anywhere. Add ‘check shaft seal bolts’ to our checklist.

Discouraged, but knowing this would be put right, Mike continued looking into the problem with the gear shift. I went back to my settee, tired as dirt and emotionally drained. After a few minutes I heard Mike say one simple word: ‘No.’   It was almost a whisper. This word, so small and insignificant, was uttered with such complete despair that I was off my settee and flying across the salon in an instant. He was white as a sheet, standing there with an oil dipstick in his hand. He literally looked like a man who had been been given a death sentence. I thought he had somehow injured himself. But he looked up at me and said, ‘There is water in the oil.’ This is a death knell for an engine like ours. Standing there together we both felt the same way. We were just done. We felt utterly defeated.

So let’s just pause and regroup here. That’s a terrible docking experience, a stuck gear shift, a leaking shaft seal, and water in the engine oil. All. At. One. Time. And, for the uninitiated among you, these are completely unrelated incidents! (Except for the shifting and docking fiasco. Those are completely related.) Oh, and one other minor inconvenience: when I was crashing into the other boat, Mike was running to the aft deck to be closer to the real action and put his foot through the lovely cockpit enclosure. Now the back starboard panel has a huge hole in it.  Meh. That just adds insult to injury. I’ll fix the hole and we’ll use it anyhow. We’re getting a new one in a couple of years. But still. It’s just another slap down.

One more time: Our engine has 3 hours on it. It has been installed to specs by a certified mechanic. The engine started the first time and ran like a dream. And yet, there is water in the oil. I have to write it again, because I still just cannot believe it.

No damage to the beloved swimstep. How did we manage that?

Another call to our mechanic, who had the grace to pick up the phone, and now it looks like we have a warranty claim on this brand new engine. Shawn was very good at talking Mike off the ledge. He reminded us of the warranty. He was trying to make us feel better. He wanted to keep Mike from panicking. In fact, he said ,’Don’t panic.’.  But it was pretty much too late for that.

Instead, we both went up to the bathrooms to take long hot showers, hoping to wash the stench of our failure down the drain. It didn’t work, but at least we were clean. We ate Thai food and drank beer. That’s two beers in one day for me. One to remember the day, and one to forget about it.

A trip to the grocery store to get milk for my coffee the next day also found two packages of chocolate cookies in the cart. When the going gets tough, always eat chocolate. It’s been known to cure many things.

We spent the night on the boat to guard her. Then did a few small tasks to just make us feel better and re-engage with the process. Then we went home.

As of tonight the mechanic has stopped the leaking shaft seal, but neither he nor the distributor can figure out where this water has come from and, of course, the engine is completely out of alignment now anyway. There was 1 1/2 quarts of water in that engine. Mike and Shawn had run the engine for 40 minutes after putting the fluids in it initially and everything had tested fine. Mike hasn’t added any fluids since then. The exhaust elbow was dry. And he has done some kinds of tests on the engine and found that it does not appear to be damaged. But this needs to be figured out. Last night we were worried we would have to have this engine pulled. Today it looks like they might be able to replace whatever part is malfunctioning. Maybe a heat exchanger inside the engine? But until we figure it out and get the repair done, we will be at the dock. The rewards of boat ownership feel further away than ever.

I know that mechanical minds will have a lot of questions about the engine installation and what’s going on now. I’m writing this post because Mike needs to get away from this subject for awhile, even though he would be able to talk about this with more technical data. Ask your questions in the comments section, if you have any, and he’ll get back to you when his brain isn’t fried.

My current mantra is credited to my friend Cidnie: If it was easy, everyone would do it. Said in rosary fashion, tall rum-based drink in one hand, it actually helps quiet the voices in my head.

Now here are some soothing garden photos.

These are bleeding hearts. Appropriate, no?

The lovely helleborus.

The Himalayan lily.

In the rock garden.

In the rock garden. Pulsatilla.