We set out this morning for Tenacatita. But not before raising the anchor by hand thanks to a dead windlass battery. I later discovered that the battery combiner wasn’t working and I was able to just bolt the two wires together for a temporary fix.

The dinghy davits, which it turns out had broken a total of three support welds, was now a web of lines that actually seemed to hold the whole contraption together quite well. Yet another temporary fix.

We had a nice calm morning and were motoring along in just five knots of wind on what should have only been a five hour trip. Then the engine died.

My fault, as usual. In my infinite wisdom I had kept the port tank shut off so that we wouldn’t run out of diesel, as I knew that tank was full. Problem being of course that we would eventually run out of diesel in the starboard tank. When that happened the engine sucked on nothing but air and died.

I heard it sputtering and dashed downstairs to try and switch the port tank on, but too late. So I went about bleeding the engine. I pumped and pumped the fuel pump but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. After a few sweaty minutes of that I stopped, took stock of the situation, and realized that I had actually shut off the starboard tank, not opened the port tank. What a Homer.

So I got us running again, we picked up the house and continued on our way. For ten minutes. More air.

Bled again. Started it, shut it off, rechecked the bleeder valves for air, started it again, and continued on. For ten minutes. More air.

Took a good long look at the system and finally realized that I couldn’t leave the fuel line for the empty starboard tank open as all that emptiness was just getting sucked into the line along with the actual fuel in the port tank. Bled again. Started, and ran the rest of the way. I’m thankful for the calm seas during this little episode.

Finally pulled in to Tenacatita, dropped the anchor, backed down, and heard a clunk. Coupler came loose again.

Will the pain never end!

This hundred and fifty miles has turned into a true shakedown cruise. Forget that whole little trip from San Francisco to Puerto Vallarta. We have had more issues in the past few days than we’ve had in a whole long while.

Once settled in though we tend to quickly forget about all the hardships. We are in a beautiful bay, two bottlenosed dolphins spent the entire afternoon swimming around the boat, and Ouest got to swim. She loves swimming off the boat. She was absolutely giddy. I’d dive in, then climb the ladder, grab her off the deck and jump in. We’d come up for air and she’d be laughing and swimming for the ladder so she could climb up and do it again. We actually had to tell her not to jump off the deck herself. It’s a good six feet off the water. I probably would have let her, but I was concerned she wouldn’t clear the ladder. The long jump is not her strong suit.

Long jump. That reminds me. During one of the brief periods that the engine was running this afternoon I was out on deck with Ouest. I was holding her in the cockpit and we were just staring off the back of the boat. And then a whale floated past. He was just floating on the surface relaxing as we sailed by, close enough that I could have easily taken a running jump off the pilothouse and landed on his back. We were just ten feet from a collision with a big ol’ humpback. Awesome. He stuck up his big arm a couple of times and waved goodbye. I’ve seen a lot of whales this trip. They are everywhere. But that was as close as you get.