Bristol Channel Cutter Elizabeth

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:

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.

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.

It’s been 7 weeks since I left Martha’s Vineyard. I’ve taken 3 showers. That’s 49:3. I do love a good pie chart, but not sure how to graphically display this data, perhaps this will do…

The last shower I took has a cool little story that goes with it…

Teresa and I rafted up in Hampton, VA for our first night there. The winds were light, the anchorage was well protected from wakes, but it was small and crowded. So it made good sense to raft up, in the name of “anchorage space conservation”. The second night however, winds were forecasted to increase to 25 knots… a great reason to anchor separately. After a few boats had left for the day, I dropped my anchor a few hundred feet to the West. Once I was secure, we went ashore to drop off my alternator and get me a new phone. I have a bad habit of using my phone in the rain, and well, it got really wet this time, and died a slow, vibrating death.

The next morning, while eating my breakfast and checking my email I got a comment on the blog from snoodletime:

When I woke up this morning, I saw your boat anchored in Hampton Creek.  I recognized the bow as that was all I could see from my window.  Curious as I am, I had to walk down the dock to see if it was really you.  Sure enough, I could see you and Teresa too. I’ve quietly read your adventures and it sure was nice to actually see your boats.

A little while later, after a quick email exchange and a phone call we met up with Steve, humbly accepted his offer of dock, electricity, shower, a ride to town to collect my repaired alternator, and an invitation to dinner with his sailing friends that night, who put on a feast I couldn’t believe. What an amazing guy! What a fantastic coincidence! What incredible hospitality! Steve showed me the small gap between the buildings and the trees through which he saw the sliver of my bow… just incredible he recognized her.  Thanks for everything Steve!