Bristol Channel Cutter Elizabeth

Rowing my dink ashore one day, I overheard this…”What’s that smell? Oh, it’s that damn Bristol Channel Cutter Elizabeth anchored upwind of us.” That’s how it started one day. I knew it was time to rebuild the head and replace it’s associated hoses. But I kept putting it off. I mean, who willingly wants to get shit all over their hands, legs, arms and face? The real wake up call came the other day when I climbed aboard Elizabeth late one night, slid open the hatch and nearly threw up in my mouth from the stench of rotten piss and shit… all over my salon. How was I ever going to have guests over? What a mess. I waded through the disgusting sludge and crawled into my bunk without even brushing my teeth or cleaning off my shit dripping feet. I don’t know how I fell alseep that night, but it reminded me of a time in college when my roomates had a party with tons of hot girls and all these fat dudes. Of course they all got obscenely drunk, and naked, then one by one, as if on cue, they all started puking on each other, sorta like a chain reaction. The morning came to find them all sleeping on the floor… in their own vomit. Not just the guys, the girls too. Beached whales and mermaids in a brown sauce.

Anyways, actually, none of that happened at all… but I do need to rebuild my head and replace the hoses. I pulled out the head to find it lived firmly bolted to a lovely piece of plywood encased in epoxy then painted. Despite the head always leaking and it being generally a nasty moist place 24/7, this piece of plywood looked unscathed. Sam L Morse knows how to make a good perch for the throne.

So I’m into it a bit now. The Raritan PHII is out on deck, enjoying the South Florida sunshine, and my rebuild kit has been ordered, along with some Sealand odor-safe hose ($7.99/ft) for the run to and fro the holding tank. I love starting projects and taking everything apart and then stalling out. I wonder how long the head will sit on deck before I get around to rebuilding it and replacing the hoses. Another few weeks? Shall we start a poll?

There are good days and bad days for doing laundry. It’s something you have to plan ahead for. The nearest laundromat is about 2 miles away. No bike. I’ll be recycling my underwear tomorrow. Today’s forecast:

Can’t wait to find some time to rip into some varnish projects. Pick up where I left off, then round the corner and start all over again with the boomkin and rudder cheeks, the first varnish projects I tackled all the way back in 2008. I only got about 5 coats of Epifanes on the Boomkin. I’d say for only 5 coats it has held up well. I did keep it covered 50% of the time.

The latest item to shit the bed aboard Elizabeth was the engine control. The button that allows me to throttle up in neutral seized in the depressed position (that’s rather punny), such that I could neither start the engine nor get the non running engine into gear (moot point I suppose). New control unit ran me $158 from go2marine. There was a nice discussion at the Sam L Morse forums about various control units, their longevity and construction. I chose to simply replace my existing unit with the OEM Teleflex brand. If this new one lasts 20 years, like the old one, I think it will have been a good choice.

Three months later I finally hung the two prints which Adam gave me in the main salon. He is a fantastic artist and these two paintings help add alot of cozyness to my sometimes lifeless cabin. Adam’s use of light and his ultra-realistic style amaze me everytime. You can see more of his art at his website.

Into a money making mode has begun. No longer a cruiser, once again a liveaboard. A cold liveaboard. Didn’t think I’d be running my kerosene heater in Florida, but the record breaking low temperatures are dipping into the 30’s tonight. Good thing I didn’t pack away those woolie underwear just yet. But when I do go to pack those bulky winter clothes away (at some point in my life) I will be sure to use a Space Bag…vacuum packed clothing! This is a new discovery for me, thanks to old Rosie.

Besides work to be done and money to be made, there are BOAT PROJECTS. It’s uncanny just how many things need repair. My immediate and PRESSING list includes:

1. Zinc placement (notice it’s not REplacement; there aint no mo’ zinc left!)
2. Refrigeration repair
3. Throttle/shift cable replacement
4. Varnish
5. Rebuild head, and replace all hoses & valves to holding tank

One benefit of becoming a mere liveaboard again is the routine which allows for regular exercise and healthy diet. While cruising I found I ate ALOT. Mostly due to boredom while on watch alone. Peanut Butter, cereal, chips & salsa… lots of junk mostly, cheap filler. I’m looking forward to losing that 3rd chin I’ve developed this winter.

Merry New Year! I’m vacationing in New Hampshire, where the sun barely rises and the snow always falls. It’s been a lovely holiday taking care of family, pondering the meaning of life, contemplating the future, the best cell phone, my retirement, and of course the trip to France.

Here’s a new video short…

Here’s how it breaks down this month…but I ask why. Why bother posting this? I think the reality of it is worth illustrating. It’s not really about how I can save more money on groceries. I certainly could avoid higher priced options, but I didn’t. I could learn to cook some more-cost-effective meals; I will. I could eat more beans. I do love beans. I could shop in bulk - oh no wait, I can’t… the basement floods often. But I’m more interested in this month’s data because I had a few unexpected expenses. And you have to expect the unexpected.

A fellow named Steve, who I shared a mooring with in Velcro Beach aboard a 28 O’day named Searcher said it best. After my starter finally gave up the ghost, on a Friday afternoon, I was complaining that there’s always something that needs fixing, and how I wish I had a spare starter aboard to avoid the delays of a rebuild. He replied with,”Ya know what the secret to successful cruising is? Carrying a spare boat.” That tickled me. I got stuck in Velcro Beach because of my starter, not because of the mandatory raft ups on the mandatory moorings, the 9:05  #1 bus, the Publix, or the food court. But it’s not a bad place to get stuck I suppose.

The unexpected:
1. Group 31 battery meltdown. ($194)
2. Bad alternator bearings. ($140)
3. Going for an accidental swim with my phone in my pocket. ($19.49)
4. Flipping the dink and sending my bike to the bottom of the Ashley River. ($12 for the diver; the bikes… well…we didn’t recover them)
5. Starter armature meltdown ($150 - not a Nov expense)

Everyone’s got one nowadays. “Hi, I’m Ben, here’s my card”. Not sure what I’m selling, but we are often trading email addresses and phone numbers. So Boat Cards, as they are called, make it easier. It’s really just a calling card. I had no clue! Seems a bit presumptuous, but anyways I made some…and people really exchange them! I put my credentials at the bottom, just in case someone needs a delivery captain, some graphics or what-have-you.

So what could be my new engine issue? Is the starter fried?  With all that smoke…how close did I come to having a fire aboard? Immediatly after dropping the hook, I dug into the engine room to begin troubleshooting. Visual inspection of starter and ignition wires indicated everything was OK. No melted wires. I crawled back a bit further to where the starting battery perched. The entire engine room smelled like ‘burning electricity’, so it was hard to determine exactly where the smell originated. But upon inspection of the battery, there was no doubt in my mind where the odor came from. The negative terminal had completely melted! It looked like ‘Hot Liquid Magma’ at the terminal. Internal short I guess. I talked with a few friends about possible issues. Together we traced my charging circuit and tested to make sure the starting battery was getting a proper charge. All checked out OK. I have an Ample Power Next Step Regulator coupled with their Eliminator to charge a 2nd battery bank.

The simple starter test: I swapped the starting circuit Hella key switch, and fired up the engine using the House Bank. Starter appears to be OK. Engines running. No meltdowns… yet. So, out with the old battery. Let’s just say, moving the Group 31 from its perch is a royal bitch; sweat and curses come standard.

I loaded the small boat with my bike and the dead battery, bound for West Marine to find a replacement. I pulled up to Daphne to get Teresa and her bike. Now, Charleston Harbor is actually a river, the Ashley River. At max flood/ebb, the current rips at about 4 knots. All the boats in the harbor sit in different directions depending on their hull shape. Some are in harmony with the wind direction, others follow the flow of the current. This day, the wind and current opposed one another and the chop was annoying to say the least.

Making room for Teresa’s bike, I moved the battery and my Dahon to the center. All in a matter of seconds, she handed me her bike, the dink rocked from the large wake kicked up by a powerboat speeding through the nearby ICW, the painter jerked, I lost my balance - which was compounded by stepping through a crack in the floor, and the dink began filling with water! I thought I could recover it, but nope, it was too late, I was getting wet, the bike was in my hand. I let go, the dink flipped over and I swam away, thinking, “Damn there goes another phone!”  Teresa yelled, “It’s OK, It’s OK. Get the bike, it’s stuck on the dink! Quick!” The bikes! In my state of shock, I didn’t even realize the bikes would be gone. With hope, I swam to the dink, but there was no bike - it was the outboard motor lower unit, triggering another realization… the outboard was submerged.  My phone, the outboard, 2 bikes, chain, lock, oarlocks - sunk in 30′ of water with a 3 knot current. Damn. Two dinghies arrived quickly to help out. Jim from Starbound, and another fellow, who’s name I didn’t catch, but his boats name was Timrod. We righted the dink and pumped her out, retrieved the oars, got a GPS fix, and took a deep breath.

Having sunk an outboard before, I knew if I was going to save this outboard, that was the first thing I had to attend to. I got the outboard to the Mega Dock, hosed her off, flushed the oil, sprayed the cylinders, and cleaned out the carb. She’s running just fine - for now. Go Team!

We found a diver through the “I know a guy who knows a guy who’s knows a guy” network. He came down after he got off work in two halves: half in the bag and with half a tank of air. Needless to say, finding our bikes that day was fruitless. The next day another diver came down, and again had no luck finding the bikes. 30′ of murky water and  3-4 knots of current didn’t help the situation. We decided to give up the search, and move on. It was MORE than time to leave Charleston.

Charleston was the original destination for this trip. Most everyone I spoke to about Charleston said something to the effect of…”Oh, what a great city, it’s a good walking town, fabulous history, very cosmopolitan, you’ll love it, and they even have a french quarter”. I figured I’d spend the winter in Charleston…should be warmer than Martha’s Vineyard at least. When we arrived, I nostalgically put my sail covers on one last time and sadly wrote in the logbook, “1310: Trips over, anchored in Charleston with 120′ of chain in 25′ of water, M.E. secure @ 1174 hrs”.

The best thing I found in Charleston was the candy shop with free praline & candied-pecan samples. We stopped by there everyday for a free snack. We also got a free carriage ride, and free pizza lunch by suffering through a presentation about Festiva Vacations… 3 hrs later, they gave us vouchers for $130 worth of food and carriage rides. Eh, not bad.

We spent a week getting a feel for our new home, applying for a few jobs, seeing an old high school pal, and taking in the sights. But, it became clear, Charleston wasn’t the place to spend a winter. After coming all this way, I realized, Charleston is just too cold and there’s no work. Winter is the ’slow season’, just like Martha’s Vineyard. Clearly, we hadn’t gone far enough south.

We did however, have a fantastic time with our friends Chad and Nicole aboard Sabbatical, and Maxwell and Jen aboard Anastasia. We all celebrated Thanksgiving aboard Anastasia, a Baba 35. We enjoyed a wonderful meal to which we all brought something, and felt the warmth of family so far from home this time.

Seven days after we arrived, with a good weather window, fuel and water tanks pressed up, we passed Fort Sumter again, this time bound for sea. The winds were perfect, 15 kts from the NE, but I needed a little help fetching the southern breakwater. I went to fire up the Main Engine, it barely turned over, as if the battery was dead. Then suddenly I smelled that unmistakable smell of “burning electricity”. The smoke followed. Then, after I stopped pushing the start button, the engine kept trying to start. It would slowly turn over. I even removed the key from the ignition, but still, that starter, down on it’s knees, bleeding, kept trying to get that engine running. It was freaking me out actually…like the ghost of Yanmar’s Past. A few rotations later, it breathed its final breath and the pathetic cranking ceased.

There I was being set onto the breakwater without an engine, bound for sea to make the overnight passage to Florida. Without much thought, I tacked round and headed back to Charleston reluctantly. Past Ft. Sumter again. Soon the wind petered-out of course, and I was faced with the decision to either anchor and wait for the favorable current to carry me back in or get a tow from Daphne. I took a tow.

Re-anchored in the swift current of Ashley River near our newest  friends aboard an AWESOME wooden replica of Joshua Sluocum’s Spray, Starbound, we began “Charleston Part II”.

It’s been weeks of trudging our way south through the dismal ICW. The engine hours topped the 1000 mark and the associated fuel costs toppled the budget. The thought of open ocean and even just a short offshore run made Elizabeth and I very excited.

Beaufort, North Carolina offered us a chance to spread our tanbark wings and sail a single, unobstructed course from Morse Alpha to Morse Alpha. The run: Beaufort, NC to Wrightsville Beach, NC. Typically, it’s the first outside run for many of the sailboats making this southbound trip each year. It’s roughly a 70 mile trip, anchor to anchor.

The plan: Haul back at 0500 from Beaufort, drop the hook at 1900 in Wrightsville Beach. 14 hours at 5 knots…pretty ambitious. Sailing plans are the exact opposite of Swiss watches… they are never precise, and always fail. November days are short and darkness dominates this time of year. Translation: a dark departure and a dark arrival.

Leaving Beaufort in the early morning light and fog produced a beautiful view of Cape Lookout to port. Beaufort is a well marked channel, but strong current against us made it slightly tricky that morning. We were pushed Eastward towards Shackleford Point and only a massive course correction would compensate. Just as we cleared G “7″, the sun broke through and the winds filled in - a sweet 12 knot breeze from the Northeast, putting it on our starboard quarter. We both enjoyed the gentle lift of the ocean swells. With the Monitor engaged and steering well, I was able to get a few whipping projects done and enjoy the day.

The day wore on and the winds increased. By dusk it was blowing a steady 17-20 knots, and the seas had built to 4 or 5 feet. No longer did the Monitor steer my course easily. The bronze gears have been wearing down slowly over time and I think they have come to the end of their serviceable life. They are about the only parts on the Monitor I didn’t replace during my rebuild this past summer. Typical.

Around 1930, we approached the entrance to Wrighstville Beach - Masonboro Inlet. The seas were rather ‘pushy’ and the wind was cold. Despite having doused the mains’l a few miles back and running my engine in reverse to try and slow down, I ended up leading our 3 boat convoy: Daphne and Sabbatical were a few miles behind me, so I had won the prize of going in first. Damn this fast boat of mine!

The Mo (A) light was dim, but clearly recognizable by it’s distinct pattern (- —). Sailing under jib alone at 6 knots, with tiller between my legs, spotlight in one hand, binoculars in the other, VHF radio under my toes, and chart between my teeth I sped on towards this inlet beneath a pitch black sky. The chart reads: Masonboro Inlet (see note B). With one eyeball watching for the submerged breakwater, the other eyeball wandered around the chart looking frantically for this note B thing. Aha!

“Well shit, I hope these buoys are on station” I thought, because that’s all I got to go with here. “Hope I don’t miss any buoys, or skip a dog leg (an unexpected turn in the channel)!” There were lit red buoys exhibiting distinct light patterns, but without a chart to reference their position it was difficult to know which buoy to head for first. At this point I threw up my hands, chose the brightest red flash I could see and just went for it. Not much you can do, except pray. The submerged breakwater didn’t diffuse the waves of course, so even inside the inlet I was rolling nearly gunwale to gunwale. Too rough to use binoculars. Unlit green buoys  whispered “boo” like a ghost close on my port side… too close actually. I clutched my radio, hailed Daphne, “Watch Out For Unlit Greens!” and swung the tiller over.

Once past the first red buoy, the channel became more recognizable and the path to safety was in sight. But that last red buoy, so far to port, so close to the southern breakwater… is that really on station? Can I trust it? Will it put me aground when my keel drops down between these swells? Spotlight on the breakwater, course as close to the red as possible…Oof, is this really worth it I wondered???  …YES! And what a rush it was, in fact.

Inside the last red and making way towards the ‘green on a stick’, with the swell gone flat, I lowered my jib safely and waited for the rest of my convoy to play the game. It was sorta like a roller coaster ride where you scream the entire ride in horror, only to get off and say, “That was fun, let’s do it again!”