We started with a big task list. This was based on a great deal of optimism. Optimism that started to look like empty hubris. Optimism that — when it’s gone — leads to some reflection.
The bulk of the tasks were simple: undo hurricane prep. This means putting equipment back on deck where it could be used. Another example is resetting the mizzen. It needs to be pulled off the side to fit the boatyard crane for haul out, and may as well stay off the side until launch.
There were a few unanticipated repairs. These don’t always sap one’s optimism. Sometimes they seem to fuel it.
Day 1
One messy, and anticipated task, was two full oil changes: Mr. Lehman and the outboard (“Scout”). This means buying oils and a filter on day 1, in anticipation of doing the task on day 2. The outboard uses different oils than the main engine, so the shopping is kind of complicated.
A lot of the first day is getting things out from below decks. The dodger, principally, but the dinghy, and all the fenders, also. Once some space is free, we can move in. This is all fun and happy work.
Let’s call the 12th of April, 2024, day 1.
Day 2
Day 2, more-or-less, we were kind of ready to change engine oil. But, the batteries were not charging properly. Voltages were suspiciously low. The starting battery was dead.
This means buying a new battery is the big job for the day.
Day 3
Day 3 is replace starting battery. In places like Annapolis, there are battery dealers that emphasize marine batteries. Here, it was a generic car-parts place to find a 1000CCA Group 31 battery. And replace it.
Once we got a starting battery in, we found the starter wouldn’t engage. It worked a year ago. It didn’t work today. We got some help extracting it.
Day 4
Monday, we took it to be rebuilt. Since we're not doing much else, this is the day to check hose clamps.
Also. It's a day to sort things that -- perhaps -- we no longer need to keep on Red Ranger. Up until last year, when we started sharing a house in North Carolina, everything we owned was either in the truck on on the boat.
Day 5
Putter around. Recognize that the original schedule was essentially nonsense, and we can't push push push push push to get everything done in the original 4-day plan.
Big sigh.
Day 6
Reinstalling the starter on Day 6. It's my first time. I'm not rushing through it. I'm going out of my way to push off time pressure and the ticking clock.
Day 7
Oil changes (finally!) Yay. Now, we’re ready to launch.
Day 8
We're at April 19th. In way we're 4 days behind our original plan. Viewed from another perspective, the original plan was nonsense.
While hanging in the slings, the bilge pump ran. Twice.
One of the through-hulls is leaking, so they lifted us back up to work on it. Some more grease and wrench-turning, and it’s not leaking.
Then comes the engine test for real. We start. We run. We motor down the creek, turn around, and motor back. I picked a spot that was way too tight, narrowly missed another boat. When I hit the piling, the anchor bent its bow-roller and tore apart the bowsprit.
Sigh. Perhaps this boat is too much for me. It’s been over a year since I last drove Red Ranger anywhere.
This was also when we found that the alternator wasn’t working. We have a weekend at the dock. We can do other things on the list.
Day 9
Pull the alternator
Day 10
Fill the water tanks and change the filter.
Day 11
On Monday, the 22nd, we took the alternator to the starter/alternator place to have it looked at closely.
Day 12, Non-Departure Number 1
The alternator repair was fast. The rectifier was blown (and hard to replace) but some cleverness lead to a working alternator. We also placed an order for a replacement Balmar 612.
Day 12 we can install the rebuilt alternator, and run some more tests to see if things are working. They seem to be.
My optimism has been knocked around a bit from hitting a piling on the dock. That’s disheartening.
This was our first attempt to get off the dock. We did not depart.
The problem we had was fuel flow. Things worked at idle. Mr. Lehman ran for at least 30 minutes. At idle.
As soon as we put Red Ranger in gear, the engine died.
The bad news is we’re drifting into the creek. The other bad news is a line is jammed at the base of a piling.
The good news is, I can use the jammed line to pull us in. It’s bad seamanship, but it also helped us out.
I bleed the fuel system. I blame an air bubble from the knockdown and fuel being tossed around.
Optimism or Hubris?
I think perhaps, this is pure hubris. Things aren’t going well, really.
Look back at Red Ranger 15 years ago, when we were first refitting her. Things didn’t work, things broke as we tried to tighten them up or get them unstuck.
Day 13, Non-Departure Number 2
April 24th our departure turned out to be about the same as yestarday. Mr. Lehman ran. At Idle. We push off the dock, and — under load — the engine died.
Now, however, the line isn't jammed. We’re adrift and rotating to end up cross-wise in the creek. We’re drifting into the neighbors. Folks grab our lines, pull part of Red Ranger against the dock. Move their boat, and get us re-settled.
So. It's clearly fuel problems. Maybe it’s a filter issue?
I replaced the primary (Racor500). Bleed. Try again. Under load this time. We’re tied to the dock: I can put Red Ranger into gear to be sure of fuel flow under load. We’re good, it appears.
We push off, and we’re away. Commissioning Day 13 transforms into Cruise Day 1.
Cruise Day 1
Motor about 5 miles, and anchor. Relax.
Well. Not completely. I spend much of the rest of the day worrying about the bow roller and the anchor.
Cruise Day 2
Engine starts and dies.
Prime it until it restarts. And dies.
Clearly, something in the fuel line is sucking air.
I put a diaper under the two secondary fuel filters. The aft-most filter has a few tiny drops of diesel.
It can’t be much air: the engine runs under a light load. It takes a while for the vacuum pressure gauge to drop from -3” (typical) to 0” showing the system is now at ambient air pressure -- it sucked in air instead of fuel.
There are little drains with covers at the bottoms of these filters. The cover on this filter spins — it doesn’t tighten down. (It’s a C5NE-9E344-A part. Apparently, it’s available.) The bolt also permitted a quarter-turn of the wrench. It wasn’t wonderfully tight.
The problem is, I still have to bleed the system and then crank the bleed screws back down. The bleed openings are sealed by little copper washers (112330-ES; not readily available with that part number.)
I'm reluctant to mess with secondary filters out here. It's messy and the consequences of failure mean being towed back to the dock.
Reflections
Back when Red Ranger was new, we had to be towed back to the dock twice. Both times with fuel system issues. Both were “would not prime” because the primary filtering system had failed.
After the second one, I asked the mechanic to rip out the old fuel system and put in something that was (perhaps overly) heavy-duty. An 80 HP engine consumes a bit over 1 gallon each hour. I asked for oversized, reinforced fuel lines. A fancy Racor twin filter unit.
At the time, I didn’t have him touch the secondary filters on the block. They worked. I’ve replaced the elements once. Since then, they've gotten us through thousands of miles. At least 1100 operating hours. Now, however, they seem to leak. They’re 15 years older than they were when we bought Red Ranger. It's time.
Back when Red Ranger was new to us, we were there on weekends, with weeks at the dock to fix whatever we broke. Those first few summers were a day or two of sailing and then a week of planning repairs, and then several weekends fixing things. Living aboard for two years, meant finding a mooring or a temporary slip to fix things. When we had to get jobs, it was back to weekends of sailing and weeks of fixing or upgrading.
We're on a third mode of sailing: visiting Red Ranger seasonally. Everything is compressed, awkwardly, into commission, sail, and decommission. November to June is sailing. June to November is storage with us a full two-days of travel from the boatyard.
In Florida, docks are expensive and rare. There are long waiting lists. Further, there are hurricanes. A year-round dock seems like a bad idea in the presence of hurricanes.
From the yard, it’s a full day of travel to get to a place where we can hoist sails. Shaking down under these circumstances is scary because there’s no simple way to get back to the dock to fix something.
Future
We have a choice between despair and optimism.
We also need to learn a lot more about this "seasonal" life and how to manage commissioning and decommissioning.