Good Boat!

We know you’ve been dying to find out how the engine performed on our trip; how that exhaust elbow stood up. Did Mike and Melissa do boat work in exotic places in British Columbia? Did the Little Cunning Plan team have to use their new unlimited towing through Boat U.S.? Did Mike perseverate on the exhaust system?  The answers are yes, no, and yes. Two yesses and a no, because we are resourceful and do our best to be prepared.

Scenes like this make boat travel worth the risk.

In this case, I was dead anxious about taking this boat very far from home with an exhaust system that was sure to fail…sometime. On the other hand, we had been taking the boat out in our local waters as much as we could, and thus far the stupid exhaust had held its ground. Which means it wasn’t broke, so why would we fix it? Still, even as we wanted to believe that it would hold for a long time, we weren’t convinced.

“What’s our Plan B?” , I asked Mike before we left.  So he made a plan. He’s cunning like that.

Before we left for the trip he stocked a repair kit of sorts consisting of supplies he got at the auto parts store. He bought a fiberglass/epoxy and wire muffler repair kit. To this he added a steel collar that could be bolted onto the pipe to hold pieces together should things go south. My contribution was a magnifying glass and a lot of praying. Our goal: have as much fun as possible before the shit hits the fan and also keep Hiram safe. 

Don’t think that my light tone implies that we didn’t take the risks seriously. We certainly did. But if you are going to have a boat and do the things we like to do with a boat, calculated risks are part of that equation. We figured we would be pushing the engine and the exhaust system pretty hard on that trip. If it failed, we’d just get it repaired wherever we were. If it didn’t fail, then we would stop worrying about it.

I had my little magnifying glass out each day, examining the weld all the way around. Days went by and I saw nothing. Then one day I thought I saw what looked like a fine pencil marking, so faint I couldn’t tell if I was actually seeing it. I talked myself out of telling Mike, thinking that it was nothing, truly not even sure it was there. That’s how faint it was, and how bad my eyes are, I guess. Mike checked with his bare eyeballs every day, or every few hours actually. We were both attentive to engine noise, always waiting for something to change. It sounds worse than it was. We just kept part of our brains in that ‘awareness’ mode you all know and love. Kind of like when you first bring a baby home and every time you walk by the crib you make sure the kid is breathing. That kind of thing.

View from under the hard dodger.

It happened when we were anchored at that lovely little beach on Kuper Island, about two days after I thought I saw what I thought wasn’t actually there. It was a Sunday. Mike went below and this time his silence just sounded different. You know, no cursing or anything like we’d had before. Just this silence that was deafening in its own way. I don’t know how I knew. I just knew.

It was cracked in the same place. Not completely broken yet, but soon it would be. Of course, we were pretty close to services where we were. There would be Ladysmith just across the water, Sidney wasn’t very far, and Maple Bay has services a well. We were not exactly in the middle of nowhere. There was a couple on a Cal 29 anchored close by who offered us the use of their car on Salt Spring Island if we needed it. We probably could have just had it fixed there. But we didn’t.

View from Sidney Spit

Mike whipped out the epoxy/fiberglass tape bandage and wrapped the thing carefully. I put on the receiving wire, which was kind of like jewelry wire only heavier so my hands knew what to do. When the epoxy cured, Mike put on the steel collar for extra holding power.

Our original travel itinerary had us going north of Gabriola Island and sailing down the Strait of Georgia. I felt strongly that karma would not deal kindly with us if we threw fortune in her face like that. It just felt like pushing our luck. So I kind of sort of insisted that we go south and start back home. We wouldn’t go home early, but we would stay close to services should we need them. Poor Mike. I felt as though I had rained on his very parade. We would have actually made it to someplace we hadn’t been before. We so want to go further north. But it was not to be.

Staged for purposes of photo because Mike had already removed it once.

Staged for purposes of photo because Mike had already removed it by the time I remembered a photo was needed.

We sailed down to Portland Island, using the engine as little as possible. Hey, babying your engine is a great way to practice your sailing skills. When we had the engine on we kept him at just the right RPM to minimize vibration. I love Portland Island, and we had a great day of sailing. So that was okay by us. We had the perfect anchorage there and settled in for a couple of days.

After our Portland Island stay, we had just enough time for a stop in Sidney to restock, then it was time to get home. We check in to Roche Harbor and began the trip back to Tacoma, again, sailing as much as possible. But damn that thing called a ‘job’, we did have a deadline for making it back.  So Hiram was fired up much of the way. Mike tested the integrity of the exhaust elbow constantly. If it was cool enough to the touch, he was testing it.  It held and held and held.

We arrived in Tacoma on Sunday afternoon after a wonderful, fulfilling trip to the islands. We docked that boat perfectly. We got her tied up and situated while the engine cooled off. Mike went below to check on Hiram. And the elbow broke. It broke all the way, as in ‘two pieces’. I am not making this up. That boat got us home with a cracked exhaust all the way from Kuper Island. It didn’t actually break in two until we were snugly, safely in our slip in the marina. Hiram was safe.

Good boat. Really good boat.

A really Good Boat.

 

Her Mysterious Ways

The boat is a demanding mistress. We’ve been taking a break from working hard on her, preferring to spend weekends sailing. Still, that list of boat chores isn’t getting shorter so we’ve started knocking a few small things out. Doing these kinds of things makes us feel like we’re really in charge around here. Then there’s the whole law of physics about an object at rest tending to stay at rest…well you get it I’m sure. If we totally stop all boat work, we might never get back to it.

All the rest of the photos are dead boring so I'm putting this mermaid here. She graces the salon.

All the rest of the photos are dead boring so I’m putting this mermaid here. I made her a couple of years ago. Now she graces the salon.

One of the little projects we’ve been involved with of late is chasing down small leaks that put water in our clean bilge. This drives me nuts. Our young friends down in Louisiana, Tate and Dani of Sundowner Sails Again, recently posted about their bone dry bilge. Now, to be fair, they have worked their hind ends off getting the bilge to be water free, but that little fact was lost on me as I read their post about dust bunnies in the bilge and felt a white hot rage of envy flood my being. I felt a little temper tantrum coming on motivated purely by petty jealousy. I really want a dry bilge like theirs. But whining won’t make it so. You have to earn it. So it begins. Time to chase down mysterious leaks.

As boats go, Galapagos is really pretty dry. But there are a few little ones here and there that keep me up at night. We had been hearing the bilge pump come on intermittently, and recently another sound had been added to Galapagos’ repertoire: the fresh water pump would come on for no apparent reason. Except there is always a reason. This one turned out to be easy once it was located: vibration had wiggled loose a hose clamp in the aft head and it was steadily dripping water. That was a dead easy fix but don’t get your hopes up about any of the others. This easy fix was created just to lead us on. We already know that game and we refuse to play it.

Another mermaid, because you need something to rest your eyes from these pictures of the engine room.

Locating leaks on Galapagos is not for the faint of heart. Under her sole are cavernous spaces that are dark and dank; medieval catacombs where water drips unseen and collects in small fetid pools. Each time I pull up the sole to look under it I expect to see the mummified remains of ancestors lurking in the corner. I know that rather than face the torture that is our bilge areas, many people would just shrug and wait for the leaks to get worse before bothering with them, not worrying about those little pools and what may be breeding in them.  But it just doesn’t seem right to ignore these seemingly insignificant leaks because who knows what havoc they are creating in the dark of night as I lay sleeping peacefully in the aft cabin, wrapped in a warm cocoon of denial?

 

In Hiram’s engine room, way in the forward recess to the left of the starting battery, there is such a pool of water. I needed to know this water better in order to make it disappear. It is too far to reach back there with my hand so, using a metal probe, I reached back with a paper towel to suck up this water and give it the ‘taste test’.

Way in the back, past the forest of hoses and wires, is a small pool of water.

Yes, that is right. To find a leak you have to know: do we have salt water or fresh water? Fresh water comes from our water tank and hoses, or from rain (this falls from the sky, but not lately). Salt water comes from the sea and is a more serious issue. The only way we know to get this information is to completely trust our immune systems, dip a finger in the water, and place it gently on the tongue. Then rinse vigorously with clean water. It is quite disgusting. Damn. This is salt water collecting quietly in the corner of Hiram’s room. So that means something is weeping somewhere, But where???

We go into Sherlock mode and I began emptying the compartment under the sole by the engine room. It’s filled with hoses of all shapes and sizes and is filthy underneath. I find water standing next to the drain from that compartment; the drain that flows water into the same area of the engine room where no hand can reach. You’d think that we would be getting closer to a solution but not so. We see no way for water to be collecting there, much less salt water. There is only one thru hull anywhere near this area and that thru hull has recently been tended to and is completely dry. Not even a tiny drip of seawater emerges from its freshly greased surfaces. Foiled again.

The adjacent compartment, which I am drying out with a fan. Yes, it’s ugly. No, I am not going to paint it right now. Maybe later. I believe this is number 104 on my list of priorities.

So I leave you with a cliff hanger. I wiped the compartment out, then we left a fan going so it would be really dry, allowing us to see any tiny trickle of water that might enter and give us a clue. Stay tuned for the solution, if we ever find it. Today I am down at the boat and that little compartment is still not dry. No standing water, but I’d think it would be bone dry by now. (You know, it occurs to me that I can ‘work’ on the boat all day long and never accomplish a thing.) We are one for two in the ‘solving of the waterworks mysteries’ department.

The better part of Hiram’s engine room. Water on the floor sort of in the middle of the photo.

There is other unsolved water on the other side of the engine room. We wipe it up, it comes back. This has been going on for months now. We’ve both stared at it for what seems like centuries, pleading for it to give up its secrets, shining lights at angles hoping for a glisten of moisture, running fingers and paper towels along hoses and connectors. I know astute readers see that thru hull in the photo and think ‘Aha!’ but don’t get too excited. This is fresh water and, anyway, that thru hull doesn’t leak a bit. Our staring and shining lights hither and yon turned up no clues. I stuck a few paper towels around to see if we could determine which direction the water was flowing from. Then I tightened all the connections in the fresh water line in that area just because why not? I have nothing to lose.  It’s all we could do. We are now one for three and the water is definitely in the lead. Recall I said this stuff makes us feel like we are really in charge, but I didn’t say we accomplished anything specifically.

In other news, we’ve bought our mistress a few gifts lately.  Mike climbed the mast and gave Galapagos a new wind vane. The old one was frozen to itself and the metal was bonded to the mast, requiring a hack saw to remove it. But Mike made short work of it and now we have a wind vane that actually works. Small pleasures. Damn that’s a tall mast and we’re grateful there are mast steps to help.

Mike bought another little gift for Galapagos this week: a 12 volt battery charger. Boy howdy, we were excited about that! It matches his new little hand held vacuum for his man cave, and also will charge the flashlight and drill. This will be so useful when we are at anchor and he wants to whip out a boat project or two rather than relax. An inverter would not come amiss at this point.

Mike is so excited about this 12 volt charger and vacuum for the man cave.

Mike is so excited about this 12 volt charger and vacuum for the man cave.

The new stuff is by way of preparing for a 2 week cruise up north. We plan to leave next weekend, all other things being equal. Our plans are flexible because we don’t want to overtax the exhaust system, which is still holding. And as an aside, if you are looking for a second career, please consider being a diesel mechanic since they are always completely booked up and have no time for small things like exhaust systems. Mike will be emailing a photo to Broomfield’s in Ballard. If we can get anyone there interested in this we may take a couple of days from our busy vacation schedule to have them take a look at our exhaust system.

So we’ll be heading north. If you are up Seattle way keep a lookout for a big blue boat and give us a shout.

 

 

 

Exhaust Elbow Blues, Reprise

Raise your hand if you thought we would have some trouble with that exhaust set up on Galapagos during our recent shake down trip from Astoria, Oregon to Tacoma.  Yeah, don’t gloat. Because our hands are raised, too.  If you’ve been following the Drama of the Exhaust System, you’ll recall that we had a fancy new engine exhaust pipe made to fit the boat because we were worried that water would back up into the engine, drowning Hiram and making us dead sad. If you are new to this series, read about that here and here to catch up with the rest of us.

The new pipe fit like it was made for Galapagos because, duh, it WAS made for Galapagos to the tune of (Put coffee mug down here) an amount of money that is very large.  When you pay several hundred dollars for a specially machined piece, you kind of think things would be right but that’s where you would be wrong.

Freshly installed and wrapped. This tape turned out to be really good.

From the get go, Mike was concerned about the weld holding the new piece of metal pipe to the flange that was used to attach the thing to the Beta. It just didn’t seem that the piece had enough support to keep that particular joint intact but the mechanic who fashioned the piece assured us that it would be fine. We wanted to believe him because we really were anxious to turn the page on that chapter of the refit. The pipe was pretty. It fit nicely. The kid who made it was a nice kid. Hiram hummed along perfectly well. Mike added rubber washers to the support on the right, wrapped the thing in insulating tape, and vowed to keep his critical eye on it. We figured it would eventually be a problem but we wanted to get going bringing Galapagos up to Tacoma. What could possibly go wrong?

All was well until we were anchored in Bellingham Bay ready to visit our son Andrew for a couple of days. Mike had been doing his usual checks in the engine room and I could tell by the cut of his jib something was amiss. Then the cursing began. It’s always quiet, but it sounds even worse that way and after the time he found water in our new engine’s oil, whenever I hear silent cursing coming from the engine room, I have a post traumatic experience. He found that the weld had separated just where he’d been concerned it would, and what was holding the pipe together was the insulating tape. And because of  the leak, the exhaust gases were now allowing water to make its way back toward the engine! Oy. When we examined the broken weld, we saw that the piece had been butt-welded, not beveled or supported in any way. Sheesh. Do we need to learn to weld in order to see that things are done right?

You can see the complete break in the middle of the photo. Ouch.

You can see the complete break in the middle of the photo. Ouch.

He removed the tape, which was black on the inside from engine exhaust. The pipe was in two separate pieces. Mike attempted a temporary fix using high temperature silicon tape but the gas pressure made that fix very temporary. There was nothing for it but to get the thing repaired. I held my breath as he checked the engine oil. No water. Praise the powers that be. Hiram was safe. Another bullet dodged; another withdrawal from the Kitty of Karma. We better start making some deposits there.

These are the times that try the souls of boat owners and we feel extremely lucky that this happened in Bellingham when we were safely anchored and had access to a car and services.  Really, life was incredibly good just then and no stinking exhaust pipe was going to ruin our time. Mike thought we might be stuck in Bellingham with the exhaust system blues for a few days. I can think of worse places to be. Andrew rescued us with his car and he and Mike carefully rowed the piece to shore. 

Mike took the piece to a place he had called (thank you, Iphone), and they referred him to someone else, etc. By the following day he had located Chad Peterson of Peterson’s Welding and Fabrication.  After consulting with Chad (our new best friend)  we left the parts with him and spent our waiting time purchasing aluminum stock and doing some other fun things we’ll write about later. It was a good day, one that made us look forward to being retired and having time to just go with the flow.

Mike planned to use the aluminum stock to make new support struts and called our loyal mechanic, Shawn, who had also been a little concerned with the exhaust pipe installation. Thankfully he is very responsive at picking up the phone when Mike calls. You’d think he’d be tired of hearing from us by now. He had some good ideas to add to Mike’s good ideas and a plan was formed.

Shawn maintained that the pipe needed to vibrate in time with the engine vibration and therefore needed to be supported by struts that were attached to the engine. That made sense to us. Hell, what do we know?  So in addition to beveling and welding the pipe, Michael asked Chad to add a cross brace with holes in it to create a more stable geometric form that would also provide landing points for the new support struts. That way the pipe and the engine could both sing the same song.

In deep mano a mano consultation with Chad. The amount of testosterone in this workshop was mind boggling. I had to get some fresh air.

A few hours later we picked up the newly welded piece. This time the two parts were beveled to allow a greater amount of surface area to be welded. We can only hope. It all looked great (just like it did last time… just saying) so we paid Chad less than I thought it would be and returned to the boat. These kinds of things are why I still work.

Mike tests the tensile strength of the finished piece. He is pleased.

Installed and ready for new supports. There is so much more structural integrity just with the crosspiece added. Geometry, people. Geometry. Live and learn.

Back at the man cave aboard Galapagos Mike created two support struts for this piece of metal art we call an exhaust ‘elbow’ and found places to attach them to the engine. We had picked up some aluminum flat and angled stock while waiting for Chad to work his magic. Without shore power, Mike was limited in how much actual cutting and drilling he could do to build the struts and aluminum is much easier to work with than steel. He also decided that he would leave the insulating tape for later so he could keep a close eye on the thing. A very close eye.

We left that afternoon and spent a lovely evening at little Eliza Island, just an hour from Bellingham. Everything was holding thus far. We know this because every time I looked up Mike had his head in that engine room, gimlet eye focused narrowly on Hiram’s elbow.

Two supports. He may put in a third one but this is it for now.

Two supports. Notice one is a flat piece and one is an angled piece. There will be a test on this information later.

The following day we had a long motorboat ride with some minor sailing down Rosario Strait. The pipe had plenty of opportunity to break if it was going to do so right away. All went well and we pulled into Griffon Bay to spend the evening, planning to cross the strait the following day.

I’d like to say that this was the end of the story, but alas, our karma doesn’t work like that in this instance. This sentence is what is known, in literary terms as ‘foreshadowing’, a term which, as used here, means ‘giving a broad hint about things to come’.

We had a lovely sail across the strait the next morning, ending up amazed at how much distance this boat can travel in a day compared to Moonrise and how it can do 12 knots around Wilson Point and never even think about surfing. Speed demons!  We motored some, but sailed more and still had record speed in the crossing, for us. We made it to the south end of Whidbey Island before anchoring for the night in the currents of Useless Bay.

Anchored in Useless Bay.

We had more sailing on the final leg of the trip. In all, we sailed a good part of this trip from Astoria to home. Even so, one of the supports turned out to be a sacrificial piece. The day after we pulled into our slip at Foss Harbor, Mike was doing his thing checking all things Hiram in the engine room. I heard that small little cursing I’m beginning to know so well. 

Oh yeah. The flat piece of stock sacrificed itself on the alter of vibration for the sins of the exhaust elbow. It took the load and the load broke its back. Pause for that moment of silence.

We have some more ideas about how to solve this problem but we want another pair of eyes to take a look so Mike will be busy finding someone in the Tacoma area who can give us another opinion. Looking at the system as it’s set up, it seems to us that on the right (in the photos) the rubber piece that connects the pipe to the water muffler serves to absorb the shock of the vibration. There is no such piece on the left, and this is too bad. Even if the thing vibrates in time with the engine, there is too much vibration for it to hold for long.

My idea was to have the thing cut into two pieces again, take part of the rigid pipe out, and insert a rubber piece on the left side. That would surely absorb the vibration on that side. Mike says that’s not an appropriate place for a piece of rubber. I believe him because, again, what do I know? But surely there is an equivalent piece in the world of metals? He says there is. So our current thinking is along those lines. At any rate, now that the engine has some hours on it (82 to be exact) Mike wants to have the alignment rechecked by yet another diesel mechanic. At that point we can discuss the elbow and see if we can somehow design a system that will let us sleep at night.

So for now, we take it easy with the engine until we can get this issue resolved, again. That’s okay. It just encourages us to raise the sails.

This makes it all worthwhile.

This makes it all worthwhile.