This is the longest post ever. But frankly, I’m too tired to split it up. So here goes.
Conditions were primo yesterday when I took off, twelve knots of wind on the beam and we were flying along. “This is going to be easy.”
Winds stayed up around 8 throughout the day and we—Bumfuzzle and I—made some decent mileage. I lounged around in whatever shade I could find and read. All day long I just read. And I thought to myself what a great thing that was, to just lie out on deck reading, not worried about the engine, not listening for any blip in RPMs, just reading.
My only real worry actually is the fact that eight hours after leaving the refrigerator was over fifty degrees and rising quickly. This might not be a problem if I had the new solar panels up and running along with DC refrigeration that we don’t have, but the way the system is now I’m simply out of luck in the cold drinks department. I don’t really eat when the food isn’t set in front of me, so not having food is less of a problem than the drinks. In fact, a kilo of yogurt was the only thing in the fridge I was concerned about. I took that out and downed most of it for dinner.
Just before dark the wind dropped into the four knot range and boat speed slithered down below two. Disconcerting, but at least there was still forward progress and hey, I’d get a good night’s sleep. I set the alarm for 35 minutes (kind of a random number I guess) and slept. I remember waking up at around 2:00 and then for some reason I didn’t wake until 5:30 again. Suppose I forgot to set the alarm. Being that there is nobody else out here that presents very little problem.
Unfortunately the reason I woke is because the off-track alarm was sounding—the boat had lost forward momentum. Most likely cause? The wind was at 0.0 knots. We drifted like that for an hour or so before I felt the whisper blow across my hairy kneecaps. Wind! We are sailing again. Currently making .6 knots of headway towards Mazatlan. Help me!
Day two.
Four days in…
The rest of the day went relatively smooth. The wind picked up a bit and shifted just off the nose, allowing me to make three or four knots for a few hours. As darkness fell the wind did too—for a while. Lightning was in the distance.
The wind had moved onto my nose very lightly, leaving me two choices—sail directly into the lightning or tack and actually be sailing NW, further away from my destination. I sailed slowly on towards the lightning.
I closed up the house in anticipation of trouble and then waited for hours—nothing happened as I inched along at 1-2 knots. Then the wind started to build. I double reefed the main and rolled up half the yankee as the wind climbed quickly to twenty knots. Then thirty. Then forty. Then forty-five.
Forty-five knots is no joke. The portside rail was dipping as we galloped over the building seas through the soaking rain. Down below I could hear crashing. Things that hadn’t been properly stowed were now on the loose.
I battled this storm for hours, tacking, running, anything I could do to try and keep things under control. For two hours the wind blew forty knots before seeming to settle in around thirty. The lightning was directly overhead by this point and the whole world glowed beneath it.
Soaked and tired I finally found the easiest motion on the boat was to point it almost directly into the wind on a starboard tack with the wheel hard over. Sort of a lazy man’s heave-to. The boat made forward progress of about one knot into twenty-five to thirty knots of wind and thanks to the big seas couldn’t complete the tack that the rudder was attempting. We just walked slowly with our head’s down into the wind and spray.
I went down below and passed out, waking every thirty minutes or so to listen to the wind howl and the boat creak.
At some point the wind abated and I went topside to drop the flapping main. To release the halyard I have to stand up on the little railings on either side of the mast, but because it was so rough and so wet I didn’t do it. A small decision that I’d regret hours later.
In the morning all was calm. Too calm. The four knots of wind there was sat directly on the nose and required me to tack way off to maintain any momentum. I was sailing nowhere—the little wind and the leftover waves were pushing me ninety degrees from Mazatlan no matter which side I sailed on.
After waking up a bit I decided it was time to pull up the main and try to at least make some forward progress. I stood at the mast and pulled on the halyard. Up five feet it went and then oomph, it wouldn’t budge. I looked up to see why and discovered that right near the top, above the second spreader, on the forward side was a light—a steaming light I suppose—that the halyard had whipped itself around and lodged in behind. The black plastic light is box shaped while the mast has a bit of curve to it, leaving just a little wedge of space between the two for the halyard to have snuck into.
Let me draw a picture. The halyard comes out of the mast at the very top, on the backside. It then immediately went around to the front of the mast where it wrapped around the light before coming back out the backside above the second spreader way up near the top and dropping down to the mainsail.
I tried simply whipping the line like a cowboy. Over and over I snapped my arm, but this did nothing. The line would hit the second spreader and stop. From every possible angle I pulled and snapped—nothing. I pulled on both ends of the halyard with all my might, but it was hopelessly wedged in there.
It seemed the only solution was going to be throwing a line up, over, and through that second spreader arm. I tied a string onto a rubber baseball and started tossing. Sounds easy enough on paper, but despite growing up playing baseball I was never really close. The breeze, the constant rocking, the near vertical forty-foot throw required, all made it impossible. I tried this for hours in the choking heat, giving up eventually when the ball and string wedged themselves into the arm of the first spreader. There the purple ball now lives.
I went and threw up. The heat, the exhaustion, and the effort had taken it all out of me. Now it really took it all out of me.
Regrouping after a while I thought I’d try pulling a weighted line up using the yankee halyard. This worked, I got the line with the crescent wrench tied to it up to the second halyard, waited a second for the pendulum motion of the boat to rock it through and released the line. The wrench fell for five feet before the boat’s motion swung it into the running rigging where it swung round and round, wrapping itself in knots. I probably should have seen that coming. I laid back on the deck and stared up at the wrench. For ten minutes I watched it swing around, unwrapping, then wrapping again, then unbelievably completely unwrapping, only to immediately wrap again. There was no way it was going to navigate to the ground level with the boat moving, and there was no way to stop that.
Eventually, surprisingly to me, I was able to yank the line back over the spreader and retrieve the mess that I thought sure would be residing up in the rigging alongside the ball for the foreseeable future.
Now I decided to get rough. I’ll break it loose. I tied off one end of the halyard and took the other end to a winch. I’ll just crank this bitch up tight until that light breaks into a million pieces and sends the halyard fluttering free.
Ummm, no. I had that halyard so tight that I couldn’t crank the winch even another click. If I had rubbed a fingernail across the line it would have sliced in two. It was like a steel bar, and all that it had accomplished was to bend the light off the mast an inch.
But hey, now the halyard could move back and forth again. It was free, it just wasn’t free-free. I thought if I could just get something up there to move the line away from the light it would come out and float free. So I tied another line to the end of the halyard, wrapped two diapers into a big ball around the knot, duct taped it all together and heaved the line up. It got to the light and wedged in there.
I needed something more round I thought. Back down it came and this time I duct taped a ball to the line, but that wouldn’t do it either. I wiggled and snapped the line, but to no avail, it was still wedged in behind that light.
Back inside I went to regroup. While cleaning up the mess of the night before I spotted a wedge shaped toy wooden block. That’s it! I taped it on above all the other junk and hauled it up the mast. It hit the bottom of the light and just like planned it guided the line right out of there.
A few seconds later, thinking I was home free, the line I was now holding slid right into place where the halyard had once crammed itself in. I was right back where I started, except now I had all that crap tied to the halyard right at the top of the mast.
I sailed the boat in circles hoping the line would simply blow out and become free, but that didn’t work—the weight of the line was too much, and held it right in the slot no matter what I did. If I had only attached a second line to the halyard before raising it up I would have been able to pull it all free. Hindsight. Especially after five hours in the beating sun.
My last gasp effort finally hit me. I could tie the line off to the yankee halyard, raise it all the way up and then hope that—with the weight of the line gone—the wind would finally be able to blow it free. As I was raising the halyard with the line I looked up and in a flash the line blew out, into the air, free at last.
I hauled everything down as quickly as I could to keep from somehow blowing this chance and losing the halyard again. As I did so I pulled so maniacally that the yankee halyard went zipping up and the bottom end disappeared into the mast. All I could do was finish pulling it all out. I now had no forward halyard. Fortunately, with my type of roller furling, the halyard isn’t necessary—the top of the furling is fixed to the top of the mast, not held aloft by the halyard. I really should have had a knot tied into the end of the halyard to keep it from slipping inside the mast. Hindsight. Especially after six hours in the beating sun.
I raised the mainsail and continued on my merry way, elated that I had somehow overcome that problem. It always kind of amazes me the ingenuity that is found on a boat. A halyard stuck tight forty feet in the air on a wobbling boat at sea, yet somehow I was able to get it down. On a boat things just have to get done, so you find a way.
The wind was still on the nose, about six knots, and even with the main up I was making zero positive mileage. In fact in the previous eight hours I’d covered eleven miles—all sideways.
Two hours passed. I laid in the shade with a magazine, drifting in and out of sleep when I heard it. Whirrrrrerrrrrerrrr… silence. Oh boy. Down below I scrambled, listened, heard nothing, lifted the engine compartment, heard nothing, looked closer, oh boy.
The prop shaft was no longer connected to the transmission. And not because of the transmission shaft coupler as in the past. No, this time it appears a bearing of some sort has disintegrated. Frankly I’m not sure how the whole thing is connected, but sticking my finger inside I can feel threads and bearings torn apart. The coupling flange is still connected to the shaft, while the shaft is no longer connected to the engine. I’ve got no engine. Not just a limited engine like I did have, but no engine.
All I can think is that I somehow screwed up the alignment when replacing the engine mounts. I was careful, and thought I’d done it correctly, but now? I don’t know. At least I know that I had just checked the tranny oil, so it wasn’t something as stupid as that. Though that’s of little consolation.
I spent an hour trying to devise a way to stop the shaft from spinning, eventually removing a couple of bolts, running rope through them and tying that off around a stringer in the floor. Problem now is that the shaft is leaking water like a faucet. If these bilge pumps stop working I’m screwed. Or maybe that would be a blessing, I could just let it sink.
The storm wiped me out, the halyard brought me to my knees, and the transmission drove the spear through my heart.
I sailed on as I had all day—in the wrong direction. This time I aimed the boat for land. The charts showed a small settlement where I hoped to be able to pick up a signal and get internet.
Hours later the computer showed a signal, the kids would have just gone to bed, so I e-mailed Ali and gave her the bad news. There was no way I was going to make it to Mazatlan in time. At my current rate it would take roughly ten days more sailing to cover the 250 miles I had left. The GRIB weather file I’d just received showed nothing but very light headwinds for the next week. I’d be lucky to eek out thirty miles a day.
I briefly considered La Paz, on the other side of the Sea of Cortez, and only about 120 miles away, but it was the same story of headwinds the whole way. Being that it is hurricane season, and that I have no engine, neither Mazatlan nor La Paz seemed like good ideas any longer.
After many quick e-mails between Ali and I—while I tacked back and forth trying to maintain an internet connection— trying to come up with a plan we realized there were no good ones. My only true option was to turn around, sail downwind to San Carlos, haul the boat, and worry about the rest later.
I’m really not sure what to do any more. I feel like I’ve reached an end with this boat. It has thoroughly defeated me at every turn. The joy I feel at raising my small family aboard this boat, the humbleness I feel when we are all happily ensconced in it’s comfortable embrace, the thrill of adventure I feel when we set off somewhere new, have all been replaced by unhappiness. Too much unhappiness lately. When I think of all the options we have—the choices—it makes me sick that I just spent two weeks without my family in order to accomplish nothing—to sail a broken boat three hundred miles and end up right where I started.
Day five.
Conditions didn’t improve yesterday. I spent the entire morning floating—the wind reading 0.0. Sweat poured off of me. I floated and floated, in the right direction generally until I was within three miles of land. If the wind didn’t show up in the next hour or so I’d have to put the dinghy in the water, tie it off to the boat, and try and motor a couple of miles to the west. Either that or float it up on shore and leave it for the scavengers. It was a tough decision.
Fortunately three knots of wind arrived—just enough to eke my way around the corner and back out to open water. For most of the day we limped along at 1 or 2 knots, until late afternoon a stiff breeze filled in and suddenly, for the first time in days, I was galloping along at six knots. Practically racing speeds.
Three hours of that and it was done. Four knots, three knots, two knots, one knot, zero point zero. I slept all night to the sound of a flapping sail, waiting for something to fill it.
Now on day six I’m sailing along, downwind, at three knots. Fifty miles from where this whole debacle began.
I’m wandering in and out of sadness. I look at a picture of Lowe above the kitchen sink and my heart aches. This was supposed to be a quick three-day trip to Mazatlan, I’d get a bunch of boat projects done, get the boat up on the hard and work underway, and meet the family in our house for the summer. I’d be on Skype every day seeing and talking to the kids, and now this is what I’ve got instead.
But then my little bout of depression is lifted by a bunch of pelicans who keep flying around the boat and landing on the davits to preen themselves. So content with their perch that they don’t even mind me reaching out and petting their wings. Birds at sea are funny that way. Their exhaustion makes them immune to anything as long as they’ve got a dry place to rest.
Hopefully that’s all I need to—a dry place to rest.
Day seven.
Darkness fell on me with twenty miles to go last night. I reduced sail to almost nothing and plodded along at one or two knots in light winds. Despite going as slow as I could I still overshot the entrance to San Carlos Harbor, so as the sun came up I raised all sails and beat back into the wind a couple of miles.
Once in the right position I dropped all the sails and put the dinghy in the water. Yeah, if you thought the rest of this week has been dicey, check this out. Fortunately the seas were small, just little one-foot waves slapping the dinghy around as I tied it fast to the side of the boat. I secured the dinghy and then tied the engine up so it would stay straight. With that all done, I fired it up, ran the throttle just half way, and tightened up the cruise control screw. I now had a motorboat again.
I climbed back aboard pushed a few buttons and let the autopilot steer me straight and true through the entrance. Just as I was coming through a Mexican “Coast Guard” boat came roaring up. He slowed down as he came alongside me, took one look at my contraption, waved, and roared off again. Looked good to him.
Once inside the harbor the seas went flat and motoring the boat to the first open mooring ball I saw didn’t present much of a problem. Tied up safe and sound. Six in the morning, I guess I’ll wait until the marina opens and then ask for a tow in. I haul out tomorrow.
I came down here eleven days ago thinking all I had was a quick three day motorsail down to Mazatlan ahead of me. After eleven days—seven of them at sea—I’m right back where I began. I think it’s safe to say that things haven’t gone quite according to plan. I should have had boat projects well underway in Mazatlan Marina with the kids and Ali arriving tomorrow to begin our summer in a nearby house while getting the boat ready for whatever lies ahead next season. Now…I just don’t know. I’m burnt. I want to be done with this mess for a while. I’m sure I’ll come around, but this has easily been the most difficult time I’ve had as a boat owner. Boats are always work, that goes without saying, but the work and the problems have really piled up on me this time. An avalanche of sorts, and I’m having a difficult time envisioning how I’m going to dig out of it.
It’s a twelve hour bus ride to Mazatlan, to my family, and I can’t get out of here fast enough.
———
All right, so I was feeling pretty bummed earlier, and even more so this afternoon when I was stripping the boat in anticipation of hauling it out and leaving it behind for a couple of months. I would look around and see all the kids’ toys, or their pictures, or their little beds, whatever, and feel a pang of guilt for not getting Bumfuzzle to them—despite the fact we wouldn’t be living on it. But then Ali wrote and reminded me of something that cheered me up again.
She wrote, “It’s just stuff. We’ve been here and Grammy’s buying the kids toys, and I’m buying them stuff, and are the kids happier? No. They don’t even touch the stuff. The easel, nope. The doll house, nope. The big wheel, nope. They don’t want stuff, they want someone to play with them. They want to go exploring. Go on hikes. Go have tacos. Go to the beach! Go surfing! They just want to be together.”
She nailed it. This is an inconvenience, nothing more. We’ll enjoy Mazatlan like we always do and at some point we’ll come up with a plan to get the boat back together. Hell, we even started plotting a strategy for next season already.
———
Now, I do have one question for you motor heads out there. What do I need to do about the water in the engine before I leave? Obviously I’ll change the oil (yet again), but is that enough? Should I just leave the oil cap off so any water or condensation in the head can escape?
I was thinking I’d change the oil one last time, then drain the water completely. And then run the engine for just a minute to get the fresh oil pushed all around, but without any threat of new water getting in. Then leave the cap off before taking off for a couple of months.
Feel free to shoot holes in my plan.
90 Comments on “What a Trip”
Your proposed plan is logical, Pat, and your engine should be fine sitting for a couple of months as you intend to prep it, IMO. Don’t dawdle at putting together a plan to deal with all the current issues, though . . . that can sadly result in yet another vessel being added to the many others already marooned in San Carlos with For Sale signs on them, abandoned to a slow but steady decomposition under the unrelenting Mexican sun.
You did well to work through the obstacles you encountered, and you should be proud of yourself for overcoming them. That said, sailing to a schedule is never a good idea.
I know you know that already, but so did all the others who tempted fate by convincing themselves that they had to be somewhere by a certain time and were going to use a sailboat to make it happen. It’s almost as though there’s a negative correlation that kicks in when humans try to force reality to conform to their desires, especially at sea.
Your deep pool of resourcefulness is a blessing that few others enjoy, Pat – just be careful that you don’t let your demonstrated exceptional self-reliance lead you into an unforced error that you can’t overcome. It can happen to anyone.
Luckily, you have Ali to keep you well-grounded and the kids to remind you continually that you have so much to live for. With them as your focus, I doubt you’ll let an old boat take over your life.
TJ
Glad to know that you are ok.
Hope the problems are solved fast and the “house” is back on the water soon…
Keep safe and have a deserved rest
Pat, it sounds as though you had an adventure, by the classic definition: Adventure (noun) – Somebody else, thousands of miles away, having one helluva rough time.
Adventures lead inevitably to the dreaded “Navy Sea Story”. A Navy Sea Story is at least 60% sober fact, 40% to 70% exaggeration for effect, and at least 50% outright fabrication. And, like a good fishing story, a Navy Sea Story is _always_ larger than life…
Give my best to Ali. Once you have had the chance to rest, reflect upon why you went back to the sea; to give Ouest, and later Lowe, some fantastic experiences. Once you have had some quality rest and recreation (R and R) and have recharged your batteries, give some thought to the next set of wonderful experiences you, Ali, and the kids will have.
My best wishes go with you always.
Rodger Morris
Thanks Rodger. Would it be too much to ask that somebody else have an adventure for once. 🙂
Hang in there you can’t crack now……my wife convinced me to follow in your footsteps and now we are going through issues ourselves-and its tough already. I need you guys for the moral support that you don’t see that you give!!!! Stay positive. Good luck!
Hey Pat,
Just checked in on bumfuzzle.com
It sounds like a little bit of boat depression may have been sneaking in. I know, I’ve been there a couple of times when it all hits the fan. To break the cycle all I have to do is remind myself that I could be sitting in an office working 9 to 5 ( or in my case some race track) and then suddenly all joys of sailing come flooding back. Being able to spend every waking moment with my soulmate is worth every heart ache.
For you and Ali, you guys also have the benefit of those beautiful kids to spend that time with.
Have a great break with Ali and the kids and give them our best wishes.
Fair winds Buddy
Garry and Wendy
Hey Garry, I think the depression came less from the boat problems and more from not being with Ali and the kids. We’ll be good to go again in no time.
These kinds of stories make me appreciate how reliable a car generally is (especially new ones). Both boats and RVs seem to be nothing but a string of hassles and disasters.
I hope you don’t give on your dream of sailing around the world with the kids. You really won’t be happy stuck in one place, or living in campgrounds with the kids.
I don’t know that I’ve ever said my dream was to sail around the world with the kids. While that would be fun, I can’t say it’s a burning desire like it was ten years ago. We’ll see. And I don’t think living on a boat is the only way we’ll ever be happy either. This is the lifestyle that works for us for now, but we’re always open to new possibilities too.
I loved the Airstream plan, so please keep that on a back burner.
Couldn’t agree with the others more. It’s a boat, an old boat at that and let’s face it, you, Ali and the kiddos live a life the vast majority of the rest of us who love the sea can only dream of. I hope that reminder is of some consolation to you along with knowing that it is just a boat and regardless of whether it is in “sickness or in health” they (boats) are our chosen mode of existence out there and while the bad times can really get pretty lousy, the good times are so, so very good. Enjoy your rest and time with the family and live on to sail another day!
Cheers,
Mark
I agree completely with Taojones. The only thing I would add is to plan on pulling the engine out and doing a complete rebuild.
Doing the head gasket only might look like a good option but it seldom works out. The rings and bearings are probably fairly worn as well, and reseating the head will probably increase overall compression in the engine putting extra wear on the rest of it.
Its much easier to work on an engine out of the boat also. Probably work out cheaper in the long run.
Take care, you share very generously which is really nice.
Hi Pat,
Sounds like you encountered some challanges at “the office”. All in a days sailing. Chin up. Statistically you had to have a shocker some time rolling the minimal maintenance dice.
My suggestion as some have also indicated is to look at the engine while she is on the hard. If the head gasket is leaking it is symptomatic of other issues such as burnt or worn valves. They can be causing blowback popping the head gasket. This at worst can cause ring and bore damage or scoring bearing wear and the like meaning replace the motor. The best it can be is a head replacement from the looks of the pic though – i’d get a trading 😉 The motor needs some lovin…
Get her checked out and be certain what the state of it is. While you and the family are playing west coast ers motor sailing is a big part of the scene, no good with a un reliable motor, too big a risk for, you, one lovely wife, and two rugrats to keep safe.
Stay safe live the dream.
Ron
Thanks Ron. She’s been running just fine up to now. We’ll see what shakes out here.
I am so sorry you had such a shit trip Pat. 🙁
Not to kick a man while he’s down, but I’ve been reading your blog for the last couple of months with a growing sense of unease – and I’ve been following it for some years now.
I remember some weeks ago thinking, “you could not get me onto that boat if you paid me”. I don’t know if it just reads like that, but the last two years have been an ongoing story of stuff that breaks – and then doesn’t get fixed properly.
I’ve lost count of the occasions where I planned to leave a comment along the lines of “haul it out, fix it good for once” but then feeling a bit silly as you’ve got vastly more sailing experience than I have. Somebody above said it well, you have been rolling the minimal maintenance dice and that is always something that will come and bite us in the butt.
Thankfully Ali and kids where not on board when it happened. Hopefully it’ll also serve as a wake-up call.
Wishing you and the Bumfuzzle, the best for the future,
Andy
All part of the adventure, my man.
You and Sheena wake up every morning and say that to eachother ten times before starting your day don’t you? 🙂
You jest, but yes. We actually do that. It usually follows a major mechanical failure. 🙂
Hi Pat, Sorry to hear about your troubles! If it were me, I’d put the boat up on the hard and replace the engine/transmission/heat exchanger/Prop & PropShaft. I’d clean and repair the tanks, replace all hoses, wiring and repaint the bottom. Of course, the problem with that idea is the downtime, financial impact and time away from the family while it all gets completed. I’m not sure how it works out with other folks, but it seems to me that it’s always cheaper in the long run to start new than to keep screwing around with something that is always on the verge of breaking down again. While you’re at it you could get rid of the refrigerator system and replace with an Engel unit or something similar?
Wow Dallas. You’ve got a ton of money and a ton of time. I don’t get why everyone is saying that this engine is constantly on the verge of breaking down. It’s as if we’ve been stranded in port for the past three years. No, she’s a good engine. 3,000 hours on a Ford Lehman is hardly even broke in.
Poetry in your trials and tribulations my friend. And I always love your photos from solo passages. Just wanted to extend kind words and know we have all had those low points. And that adventure and family can take many forms (as you well know) so enjoy the next few months and I can’t wait to see what plans you all come up with next.
Thanks Cindy, we will enjoy our time. We’re excited to explore Mazatlan some more.
Hi Pat,
I learned that it is not what you have that make you happy but what you do with the things that you have that counts. .. .
You gave it a shot, it back fired, it happens.
Time to rest and regroup.
Thank God that didn’t happened with the Kids and Ali on board and they are still sold out to it.
Before buying my first sailboat, an oldtimer sailor told me that a good boat for the family is one that have 3 things in good shape: A good engine, a good bathroom and a good bimini.
I never forget this.
I’m working with diesel engines for 15 years and would recomend that, if finances allow, get a new engine and new transmission, if the finances are tight, have both, engine and trany rebuild by someone that knows what he is doing.
Takre it easy.
Ricardo
Yeah, all the talk of new engines and rebuilds sounds good in theory. But it’s a different ballgame down here. Not that there isn’t good mechanics, there are, but it’s just not that easy. A friend just spent the past year down here having his engine rebuilt four different times! He finally got it done right in Mazatlan by the guy I was trying to sail down to have do some work on the boat. Anyway, point is, down here these things are rarely as simple as they are in your home port back in the States.
Pat- here’s hoping it all works out one way or another- maybe the time away will bring some perspective. If the issues with the boat can be fixed maybe don’t throw the whole baby out with the bathwater so to speak…and maybe just maybe the planets will align more favorably for you. 🙂 good luck.
Thanks Tina. I’m sure things will work out. They always do.
Pat, I feel your pain. It’s the dagger-in-the-chest while an elephant-tramples-you-to-death moments that make the experiences more rewarding and the reason you don’t want to be back in the pits of Chicago. The bigger the valley, the more sense of accomplishment you’ll get when you climb out of it. Maybe it’s time to do a bit of trading and get a new cat so you can leave these old boat engine worries behind?
I was feeling like crap this week because of stress and things not going well. I read your story this morning and I feel way better. It’s all perspective. Wish I could buy you a cold beer right now. Hang in there.
I’ve followed your blog for a few years now Pat, and enjoy reading of your adventures.
As an automotive mechanic (and a boat owner) I wouldn’t be overhauling or replacing an otherwise healthy engine simply because the head is leaking.
Yes, poorly seated valves etc can cause head & gasket problems as mentioned above, but these type of compression, fueling and timing precursors typically result in isolated compression/waterjacket leaks without the milky oil.
Milky oil indicates oil gallery/waterjacket leaks are present as well. This means an overall failure of the head gasket (water/oil/compression), and is usually a result of age (engine hours) combined with overheating.
If the head has warped, just get it decked. You can use a thicker head gasket to compensate for this and thereby retain the current compression ratio when you reassemble.
Also, for your short-term engine storage issue you don’t need to waste more fresh oil, but you do need to clean the head out better than can be accomplished by just running the engine in clean oil for a few minutes.
I would –
1. Remove the injectors and the rocker cover.
2. Drain the water system
3. Wash the head out with diesel
4. Drain the oil and diesel out of the engine
5. Replace the oil filter and fill the engine with diesel
6. Run the starter a few times for 15 second bursts to displace remaining water out of bearings. There will be no compression, no load on the crank, and no heat generated because the injectors are removed and the engine won’t start. Any minor residual water will settle in the sump beneath the diesel, and the crank and bearings will be soaking in diesel until you get back.
Good luck!
Thanks for the perfect advice and for answering all my questions via e-mail today Dean. I sincerely appreciate it.
Sell her and get your damn cat, you know you want to!!
Great but sad, defeated post. Going without a motor was gutsy. Shoulda
Woulda. Right?
We are all pulling for you. Go get your cat.
I have less than zero desire to buy a catamaran. Literally none.
Take a deep breath, relax, you got back ok. I agree with Dean, good idea, but if it was me, I would suck it up and take the head off now after you run the diesel thru the system. Its only a 4 cylinder and everything is right there easy to get to. Only then will you know what the problem is. If the problem is the headgasket, it will be obvious, there will be missing gasket somewhere. Then take the head to a machine shop and have it checked for warp etc. and leave it with them to do a valve job, guides, seals etc. Cover the exposed block with an oily towel so it wont rust, Then when you leave, you will have a realistic idea of what the problem is instead of weeks of worry while your away. Assuming the manifolds come off fairly easily, this is a few hour job at most. But hey, thats me, your probably allready on the bus…
Best of luck, its only and engine.
Thanks Ron. Yeah, I’m taking off. But I’ll be back soon to do exactly that. And I won’t be worrying a bit in the meantime.
So sorry to hear about your passage. We had a similar story on the coast of Mexico – got within 15 miles of Acapulco and had to turn around and go back 200 because the waves kept sloshing the 25 gallons of diesel in the gas tank below the intake and the wind and the current were dead against us. We even used the dinghy to tow us the last six miles into Puerto Angel after drifting for 24 hours. Did I mention I was pregnant and couldn’t stop vomiting? Fun times on a boat, indeed.
Turning back is never what you want, but it’s definitely better than drifting on a sailboat for another 10 days sans family! Keep giving those kiddos of yours an amazing life, and I hope we cross paths this cruising season.
Congrats on the upcoming little Mexican! See you in a few months.
Did the fish survive or is it properly buried at sea?
Unfortunately Mango is still swimming.
Agree with Taojones and Pipi’s comments in their entirety. Hang in there Pat! Anything worht doing in life is sometimes tough, very tough, but that is part of what makes it all worthwhile.
Glad you made it through safely. You might want to consider patenting your diaper/ball/wooden block contraption 🙂
I know nothing is more frustrating that trouble with an old engine on a sailboat. I spent a ton of money recondition a 30 year old engine on my boat. It worked great for about 3 months, then started smoking. The verdict was that the cylinders were not holding compression and would require a complete rebuild. Sad as it made me, I ended up selling the boat. I couldn’t afford a new engine and didn’t feel I could trust the old one any more.
If you can afford it, I’d certainly look into replacing the old engine/transmission with some shiny new hardware that you could be confident in. Bumfuzzle looks like such a quirky, confortable home for you guys it would be a shame to give it up just because of the tired engine.
Good luck, whatever you decide and I look forward to reading about the details.
Defeated? Never! It’s all about the journey. I think you said something in your book about, sometimes you loose to the market. Remember, we’re all pulling for ya.
Hi Pat,
It sounds like your are having a rather rough time but before you might think of chucking it all and do something else think of this, your boat is your house and for the most part your transportation.
It is tough when you combine the two and it needs work so you can’t do what you want (like cruise to someplace). But I was thinking of life here on land and much of my day is spent working on one or both (my house and car).
It seems like never ending work to keep the house up and there is always something that needs to be fixed. The fence needs mending and hours a week are spent on yardwork, the car needed brakes and then it needed wheel bearings and next was a blow out and new tires. The list is of course long.
I know there is an advantage to being on land. I just rent a car while it is in the shop and contine to live in the house while I work on things.
So, without a doubt, you are worked a lot on your boat just to keep it working but if you were not doing that, you would be working on your house and car (unless you lived in an apartment).
Things will get better and the kids will learn and see much more on the boat than living in the suburbs with the rest of the crowd.
Will
Maybe an apartment in the city is the answer? 🙂
Well, I got to say something….. first what about the shots of the tanker that looks like you almost ran into it? I think you should either replace the engine or sell the boat. It’s OLD and putting more money into it is a waste. I don’t see any jack lines in your pics, if you don’t use them I think that is taking a big chance of falling over and watching the boat continue to sail off. Speaking of taking chances, now that you have a family you are not just taking a chance with your life, you are taking a chance of them not having a father anymore, so you are taking a chance with their lives as well. But, adventure calls….like the sirens sweetly singing
I assure you I did not almost run into a tanker. He was at anchor, I was humming along on a beam reach, and being the incredibly talented sailor that I am I was able to avoid hitting him even without AIS. I know, amazing.
Replace the engine or sell the boat? Those are the two options? You win the most ridiculous comment of the day award George. And that’s before we even read the rest of it.
I’m thinking it’s going to be a while before you want to see the new Robert Redford film:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=sJBmBMsjv7A
Funny. I think I need to see that movie!
I do not watch scary sailing movies. And certainly not with my wife. I would like to keep sailing. 🙂
Lucky with the first boat; you and Ali made it around the world despite a flaky hull. Not so lucky with the mono. 50% is pretty good.
Cut your losses, go back to a cat. Two engines are better than one. More expensive for sure, but now there are four of you, and the additional room(s) will equal much better space and more pleasant cruising. Plus, y’all get your own cabin!
But you already know that!
As I stated above, I have absolutely no desire to own another catamaran. None. We’ve got all we need with what we’ve got.
I have been a follower of your adventures for almost a year now. I know exactly how you felt the last few days, exhausted to the point you’re loopy, starting to now real give a sh*t about what happens because you’re toast, etc. You’re not the first person that has reached that point on a sailboat. What you need is a little time and you’ll be fine.
After months of reading the details of the incessant motor or refrigeration or mechanical troubles, I always think: just fix the damn thing right or replace it. Band-aids, duct tape, forcing round pegs in square holes only gets you so far, and you’ve reached that point. Sounds like Bumfuzzle is a nice boat. I mean that. If the hull is solid, the sails and rigging in fair enough shape, pull the engine and have it rebuilt. Replace your refrigeration. This is your house now. More importantly, this is your family’s house. Do it right. Do it safely for them and then enjoy your time bumming around. It will all work out.
Again, why does everybody think a blown head gasket demands that an entire engine be pulled out and rebuilt? I just don’t understand this reasoning? And where does everybody expect that this get done? And by whom?
It’s not the blown head gasket. Objectively, if I take a look at the continual list of mechanical problems documented on this blog, so may times I think, “man he would have saved himself so much arse pain if he had the engine broken down to parade rest and completely overhauled.”
It’s not because your head gasket is blown, it’s to fix that and avoid the next few (or dozens of problems) so you can get on your way. And since you’re not in a particular hurry at the moment, a diesel mechanic (or a tow to one) surely can be arranged somehow. Or you can keep pouring oil, time, sweat and busted knuckles. Not trying to be smart ass here, I think it is just hard to step back and take an objective look at something when you’re caught up (and necessarily so) in the minutiae of what can I do to keep the engine temperature down, or this/that from leaking, or the shaft from slipping out or…
That’s where I’m confused. What continual list of engine problems? There was a hole I had welded on the exhaust manifold. And a motor mount broke. What else? Is there just a ton of stuff I’m blocking out? Because to me it seems like this engine has just ran and ran and ran. I can’t think of a time it didn’t start on the first turn.
Maybe you are thinking of the leaking primary fuel filter? That wouldn’t have been found on a rebuild. Or the transmission shaft coupler? That wouldn’t have been touched on an engine rebuild. Or the engine driven refrigeration? That wouldn’t have had anything to do with an engine rebuild.
I just don’t get what all this talk about buying a new engine, or rebuilding the engine, is all about. I’m not trying to be a smart ass either, I just really don’t get where people are coming from.
New engine, better fuel efficiency, higher reliability. Stop throwing
money down the rat hole. Fix it right, there may be a night on a lee
shore when you just have to have the engine. New engine, new refrig, new fuel tank (still leaking right?) water maker, $35k, bang, done, finished.
$35k bang, done, finished. Just as easy as that huh? (head slap)
$35K is nothing … after all you’re famous and rich! Heck, just ditch everything, including the boat itself and start over with something new. Just joking! Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy.
Glad you’re in better spirits and outta the water for now.
Ew. Just reading that made me want to give up sailing. What a shitty time! Enjoy time with the kiddos soon and if you quit with the boat thing and do something else….well I wouldn’t exactly call you a quitter since you’ve already sailed the world. Hope you get a good night’s rest, a nice cold beer, and some good family time soon.
Thanks Allison. Everyone wants to give up sailing sometimes. Then a week goes by and, well…
As a fellow sailor and mechanical engineer in the diesel engine industry, I agree with Dean. One thought is replace the oil for the cranking in step 5 with transmission fluid, it has good detergent qualities, better lubrication than diesel and will combine with the water to clean out the engine. These are good engines and will run for over 10,000 hours. Valves have nothing to do with head gasket failure! But if the head is off, get the valves and seats looked at, they could use a vlave job.
While you have all this off, if you haven’t had the injector pump and injectors serviced in a while, get that done also. Guaymas is a good town to have this work done in because of the large commercial fleet running out of there, lots of shops sefviceing diesels, unlike Mazatlan.
Posada Del Desierto is a nice quaint hotel near the marina that you would probably like, we did. JJ’s tacos are pretty good. And even though you might not like this kind of place, the food at Captains club is pretty good, Malena? makes tha best Chile Rellenos in the baja as far as I am concerned.
Thanks Dan. A knowledgeable voice of reason. 🙂 I did follow Dean’s instructions today. I can now go take a break with the family and come back when I’m ready and get this thing torn apart and worked on. Thanks for the tips.
Have to agree with Jerry and others about throwing good money after bad. As a motor sailor you need a reliable motor, especially when times are tough. It will be lighter, more fuel efficient, just regular maintenance and peace of mind. Since you’ll be spending a bunch of money, why not get a good 12v fridge/freezer system too, and you will see life on the boat in a whole new light.
This has been a reliable motor for 3 years.
Wow, alot of people wanting to spend your money on a new engine. Like said before these are great engines and will run forever properly maintained. I usually do all of my repairs myself, but there was a time when it really piled up over a couple month period. My advice, hire these repairs out! I was close to selling the boat and really think I would have if I didnt step away, make some money doing something I liked, and used the cash to pay someone to fix the damn thing. Let someone else cuss it for a while doing the repairs, wait for a good weather window, and go get it.
I know, right?
And I hear you on hiring out. I’m going to take a crack at the head gasket, and pulling the tranny. But there will be plenty of work left over for the locals I’m sure. 🙂
Following up on Dan’s comment “Guaymas is a good town to have this work done in because of the large commercial fleet running out of there, lots of shops servicing diesels, unlike Mazatlan.”
Have you considered pulling the engine and having it shipped to Guaymas for rework?
No.
wow. halyard wrapped around the steaming light and engine trouble. you’re right, you should pack it in. too much trouble. surprised you were able to write all of this with your thumb in your mouth…or did you borrow Lowe’s pacifier?
Lowe doesn’t use a pacifier.
I was pulling for you. I don’t have to tell you, sailing can be embarrassing, humbling and even demoralizing, but I feel it is not the falling down that matters, it is the getting up again counts. And you did that part well. Now I am no motor expert, so my plan would be to do the bare minimum to button her up and go kiss your family. Come back to it refreshed, rejuvenated and with some research or hire it out, but in the meantime, go be with your family. Thanks for chronicling that experience.
big fan! You’ve convinced me that cruising (full time) is *NOT* for me. Too much darn work to hang out with grumps.
Whats your inner peace worth? Your time with family is at least $50/hour? (priceless some would say) You’ve burned probably $10k in “peace of mind” kitty with this engine adventure. Halfway to a repower!!
Good luck, whatever you guys decide. I’ll buy that book too
hi adeel, i’m curious, can you point me to your blog of sailing experiences? or have you published a book? would love to learn of your personal world sailing challenges
Hi Lee,
No blog, no book. Just a boat owner (Beneteau 343) that cruises SE Florida, Bahamas, Keys. Have helped quite a few friends dealing with good old boats and their engine woes, including one that spent a bunch of cash fixing an old engine only to have it fail him yet again mere months later. Dirty little secret of cruising is that you use your engine a lot more than you’d think. Somehow people dont mind spending $5k every few years on a new suite of sails, but gasp at spending $15-20k every 15-20 years on an engine.
Sorry to hear this has been such a mess. Even with some problems you are still the luckiest guy on the planet.
Remember the Sailing Anarchists shooting you down for not being a real sailor. How many of them would need a diaper change if they had been in your place.
On the other hand, I’ve telling all my buddies how I sailed into the Port of Sagres, turned the engine key before dousing the sails and nothing, not even a click, bla, bla, bla…what a boring story compared to yours.
I’ve been following you for a long time. For the hundreds (thousands?) of happy, fun-filled posts, you have very few “Sometimes all the crap happens all at once” posts. This was one of those times. Weeks like that happen to all of us, and I’m grateful you share yours with us along with the good times. And you clearly recognize what really matters.
I hope this cluster of crap is soon over for you and there is a large gap between this one and the next one.
Well, stuff happens. Anyone who sails has the trip from hell. Our boats work…MOST of the time. Our engines run…MOST of the time. We dodge the weather…MOST of the time. Sure, maybe you could have spent months and months, or years and years prepping your boat in a vain attempt to make it more seaworthy/safe/dependable/perfect (choose a word). And, no doubt, boats need work done to them, even brand new ones. But all the upgrades/rebuilds/refits on earth aren’t going to help one bit when things go south and are absolutely NO guarantee of anything. You got in a pinch, but worked it out…splendidly. THAT is what counts. The best guarantee of sailing success it to spend time on the water in your boat.
In the area that we live, there are a gillion people who seem to want to join the “cruising lifestyle”. They spit out those two words almost in cult-like reverence. Most fail. I can’t tell you the number of people we’ve met who spend enormous resources on bullet proofing their boats, but seldom sail. And, then, one day the boat is complete, they take it offshore…and hate it. Days and days of no wind…no fun. Days and days of high winds and seas…no fun. Hot boats…cold boats…spit baths…the list is endless. And, the bullet proof boats? They fail as well. And, when they do, these folks have so little sailing experience they are scared shitless. You worked the problems, and prevailed. Good for you.
My first visit here…nice blog.
Very nicely put, Susie.
Interesting how the helpful unhappy trolls come out of the wood work when shit happens!!!!!Hang in there Pat, Ali and babies…..
A smooth sea never made a skillful sailor. I see a lot of good experience gained here, awesome journey this time as daunting as it may have seemed, Pat. Petting the pelican is a lifetime memory, thanks for showing us this journey, I’d rather deal with what you have dealt with on this trip than what most people do every day, sit in traffic or at a desk all day.
Pat & Ali
Sounds like you have some good advice on how to go about getting it back to a reliable state which is where I am coming from. You guys understand risk and have your own appetite for how much you are prepaired to carry. My personal life experience has taught me that a reliable engine can and will get you out of some stuff that you didn’t plan on when you are out on the water, exploring and pushing limits and bounds like you guys love to.
The down side as you say being south of the border is in finding competent but cheap help for these sorts of jobs. You are likely to become a reluctant expert engine repairer, well at least on your motor I suspect out of this adventure. Maybe put some feelers out for a US based mechanic to come with their toolbox and bum around with you guys for a few weeks might be a good way to get it reliable for you.
I know you, Ali and the kids will live your life how you want and I admire you for that. Take the message that some folks do care about you and want you to continue to find the sailing life style as enjoyable as it has been for you thus far. I’m curious of course to know where you guys had a mind to go sailing next season.
Keep on living the dream
Ron
I’m not jumping on the “spend the whole fish taco budget on a new engine” bandwagon, nor saying that a full rebuild is necessary. I drive over the road and have lost count of the number of stories that start with “So I replaced the head gasket and two weeks later … calamity.” That’s where all the “you need a complete rebuild/new engine” is coming from. Not that they’re right – I’ve also lost count of the times I’ve had mechanics unable to agree on the cause/solution to my problems.
On the plus side you now have the basic plot to your next book. A man desperately trying to regain his family, battling weather pirates, and viscous sea gulls. If you play your cards right it could become a Movie of the Week.
Hire the Mazatlan mechanic to travel up to San Calos and rent him a room near the marina. He can either do the work or supervise the head pulling. A good Mexican mechanic is quite capable and resourceful.. That will at least get Bum down the coast and in position for further repairs.
Good sailing and good work – budget is always a part of the equation. It’s a beautiful boat and should stay that way.
Pat, another way water can get into the oil is by leaking through a cylinder liner o-ring seal, These o-ring failures are usually age related. Worst case is if corrosion has ate away the 0-ring grooves in the block. Usually the rubber o-rings just get brittle and crack, excess heat makes them more brittle. This is all assuming your engine is a wet sleeve engine. I looked on the net a little and couldn’t find any specs. Some Ford Lehmans had liners some didn’t. Some 4 cylinder engines did some didn’t. If it’s bad o-rings the engine would need to be mostly disassembled, labor would be extensive but parts could be minimal if all else is good. You need a good mechanic to help you find the real problem here. Do you have a oil cooler that uses water to cool the oil? that is another source of water in the oil. Good luck,
I know nothing about sailing. Or parenting. Just want to send my support, and say that I really invested in this particular segment of your journeys. While I am writing this, you are on dry land, the boat has been hoisted, this part of your travels are behind you. But I just want to thank you, once again, for sharing your experiences. Much love to you , Ali, Ouest, Lowe.
I cant believe all of the comments on this post. Have any of you, replace/rebuild the engine crowd, ever repaired anything? You guys realize that we are talking about a gasket that cost probably less than a dollar to produce, that is 30 years old that (gasp) failed. This is considered a minor repair compared to many others that could occur. I have seen guys that could knock one of these out in a couple of hours, depending on accessability. The reason you see engine failures following a head gasket repair are almost always caused by running the engine with a diluted oil mix for too long before changing the oil/replacing the gasket or getting the engine too hot. Pat was mindful of changing the oil, running low rpms, and not allowing the temp to remain high. The transmission troubles can probably be solved by a little thought and measurements of the alignment( may have been just time for the bearing to fail as well). It would be a short and expensive cruise indeed if you threw up your hands and replaced major components instead of attempting repairs. Good luck buddy, if you decide to follow every ones advice and toss the old engine, I want first dibs! It would be fine for a trawler project I have in the works.
I’m feeling your pain, Pat. Hope the worst is behind you. We’re looking forward to seeing you guys again in the fall.
James, Millie & Colin
I’m just catching up- sounds like a hell of a trip. Glad you are with your family again, Pat!
Jumped ahead to this post from a earlier comment. Don’t know right now how it ended… will go back to Aug 17 2012 and continue to read your fine blog.
However…..
Wanted to make a comment that has I know to be true to some extent. Old boats require work. So do new boats. Old ones more so.
Some times shit happens. Seems to me that you were very resourceful in dealing with it, more than many would be. Cruising is not about the sundowners and bikinis all the time. Its many times boat repair in exotic locations.
Its funny that after many blog entries, this one gets this many comments. … well not really funny. Sad. People like it when others fail. Of course, we know that this really wasn’t about failure, but triumph. Shit happened and you over came it. While learning some very important lessons. All while dead tired and away from your family.
Congrats man.
Now let me get back to catching up.
Bob