September 8, 2019
I'll bet you've been wondering where we've disappeared to. Well, let's see where we left off. Oh yes! Through Ancestry we had made a connection to Dale's father's side of the family and due to a red light spotted in the garage, he was on his way to yet another project in the house before he continued on his journey to making our boat the best that it can be.
As luck would have it, on the family front, his cousin Ken called one day and introduced us to his brother, James, who we had a nice conversation with. We concluded that there was yet another cousin named Alice who kept up with such things and might possibly have a photo of his father. A few e-mails back and forth and Eureka!! She did! Not only did she have a photo, she sent it to us. We didn't even wait to open it in the house.
Years ago when I first married Dale, his mother had shown me a small unfocused snapshot of his father standing by a car. My recollection was that Dale's sister Terri favored him but I didn't see any resemblance to Dale. The photo that Alice sent us was a large professional black and white shot of him. It was sharp and clear. Undeniably, Terri looked exactly like him. Now - I could see that Dale had his nose and possibly his eyes (although the entire family claims that Dale has his mother's eyes). It was an odd feeling trying to peer through the years to make a connection. Alice also sent a note with some information about his father, along with a memory of her meeting Dale when he was a toddler. I found the note as precious as the photo. I'm sure once Dale has a chance to sit for more than 5 minutes without falling asleep from sheer exhaustion, there's another telephone call in the future.
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| Forward cabin |
On the house front, Dale was right, There was something wrong with the water heater. A quick service call later, a faulty sensor was replaced, the red light went out and Dale was free to dig out his table saw and go to work recreating a new overhead for the forward cabin. Once he was done with the wood portion, I went to work covering one side with headliner material and the other side with insulation, we installed it with hardly any salty language, the porthole was rebedded, trim pieces added and we proclaimed the front cabin complete. Now Dale can put all his tools, spare parts, bits and bobs for fixing things in cupboards without storing things in boxes and bags on the bunk and rifling through every last one of them for something he needs - right now! - or worse yet, going out to buy 2 more because he can't find the one he's looking for. I'm happy with the result.
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| "Library" |
I'm sure, if you're adept at reading between the lines, there is the possibility that I may offer random thoughts to my Tweaker-in-Chief for his opinion on whether the effort required is worth the net gain in the end. Some of these random thoughts are about what I want to do but his assistance is needed in clearing a path. Such as: I knew he had plans to run cable for a new satellite telephone through the aft cabin which necessitated tearing it apart to do so. My observation was, once the forward cabin was completed, the aft cabin showed its age, so why not take advantage of it being completely torn apart to re-carpet it too. My daughter and I had already re-carpeted one side of the boat 2 years ago, so the only parts not rejuvenated at this point was the aft cabin and what I affectionally call the library (its a small area at the base of a couple of steps that has shelves holding our logs and cruising guides) and low and behold, it had a broken board. Dang! That probably should be repaired as its only going to get worse over the next two years. And since you have to fix that board, why don't you take out all the rest and I'll re-carpet behind them as well. OK, maybe I added a week to our list of things to do, but the boat looks great now and he was going to tear up that cabin anyway.
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| Aft cabin |
I did make it up to him though. Some of the things on his list, I either did myself (organizing all of the various nuts, bolts, screws, washers, O-rings, hose clamps, etc., into a case for hardware and a case for plumbing. Each of these cases contained individual boxes which separated its contents according to width, length, thread size, circumference, or what looked like the same gizmo) or I hired it out (he was going to open up the stairs on both sides to access some void areas
and he was going to put sliders in a cabinet underneath the chart table for me to put my cooking supplies in like salt, pepper, sugar, flour, spices, etc.) The guy I hired came with specialized tools and opened up the stairs and added the sliders in a couple of hours. I made him promise to never show those tools to Dale as the boat was already starting to list in that direction. He'll come back later this week to finish putting in the floors for the accessed areas. So I think I saved Dale a week there.
During all of this commotion, Dale gets a message on his cell from a woman named Cindy, not only calling him by name but "dear," wanting to get together for dinner if he's available. Normally, I, like most women, would have my "Spidey senses" going into hyper overdrive except that he's having me listen to the voice message and asking if, first, can I understand what's being said and second, have any idea who it might be. It took a couple of replays, but my first impression turned out to be exactly who I thought it was. However, it took a call to Robbie, his sister in Oregon to confirm that yes, Cindy, his sister Terri's best friend in California, now lived in Florida and had called a few days earlier to get his phone number. Whew! OK, now he felt it safe to return the call. We made arrangements to meet Cindy and her husband, Larry, the following day and had a great time catching up on the 13 or so years that had lapsed since we last saw her.
Now, back to work! Dale had seen that a couple of engine mounts on our generator were showing signs of age and rust and thought it best to swap them out before we leave. NexGen, the generator maker, just happens to be located in Jacksonville, so we made a short trip north to drop in on them to pick up 4 replacements (since you might as well change them all if you have to change 2). They were great and really knew their stuff. Dale explained what we were doing and our big plans to travel. They made suggestions as to what specialty spare parts he might want to consider taking with him in case of emergency and offered that the beauty of their design was that most parts could be replaced easily at any hardware store. Then, we were off and running.
If you've seen the movie "Martian" then you know where the line "science the shit out of it" comes from. Dale was trying to prepare the removal and replacement of the generator engine mounts ahead of his buddy, Gerry (aka Tinkering Consultant,) arriving in town from Tasmania. The last time these guys "scienced" things, Gerry had arranged various halyards, hoists, pullies, and frames to remove and replace his entire generator out of the cockpit, down the side of his boat to the bow, across to the finger pier and onto the dock. Once done, the new one came off a handcart dolly on the dock, to the bow of his boat, down the side of the boat and into the cockpit where they would partially disassemble it in order to move it into where it belonged and then reassemble it in place.
The Tweaker-in-Chief was not to be outdone. He made a frame to center the spinaker halyard over the tiny opening (as in no room to move)
prior to it being lowered into the hole where the generator lived. Chains would be attached to the generator and a pully attached to the side of the boat to keep it all centered as it was being raised. One would crawl into the hole with the generator, it would be hoisted a few inches, and then whoever was in the hole would remove and replace the 4 engine mounts. Sounds simple enough, right?
Gerry arrived, we picked him up at the airport, let him sleep off a bit of jetlag and then made our way to the boat on what happened to be one of the hottest days in Florida. Temps were in the high 90s with the heat index well over 100. Dale went into the hole, Gerry positioned the frame, I lowered the halyard from the cockpit and we tried to raise it. Oops, something wasn't allowing it to move, he wants to take off a hose. Dale yells, Gerry relays, I go running for the right size wrench, and after a bit, we start the same procedure again. All stop! This time its me, I yell to Gerry, he translates to Dale and Dale looks for what's holding up progress again. This time he thinks its a busbar of little color coded electrical cables. Dale yells, Gerry relays, I go running for a cellphone to take photos of the color coded cables
and his entire tool kit - as my mother didn't raise no fool - and bottles of water as we're all pouring sweat by this time. While the guys are trying to sort out the cables, I head out to the car for a couple of umbrellas and cable tie them to the lifelines in an effort to keep some of the heat from beating down on them. Then I run an extension cord out so they can plug in a portable fan. We try again. This time Dale is able to see that we don't have 4 engine mounts, we have 8. Four inside holding the generator to the sound enclosure, 4 underneath the sound enclosure holding it to the hull with 2 metal slats holding the sound enclosure to the 4 below and all 8 mounts are a corroded mess and need to be replaced.
Dale's getting dizzy, so Gerry goes into the hole and tries to get to the various mounts. Its becoming clear that they are going to have to remove the generator
and sound enclosure in order to access all of the mounts. They first try to lift the whole package up as one, then they decide to separate one from another and take them completely out of the hole to work on. That means removing all the hoses, connections, vents, cables, everything! No easy task and it seems as if it is getting hotter.
They take turns in the hole and at each change of shift, I alternate water with Gatoraide for each. During one of the breaks, we discuss whether a tarp I keep in the car might provide some needed shade. While they keep taking turns in the hole, I jerry-rig the tarp over their heads connecting it to whatever I can find with whatever I can find. They say the tarp helps funnel what little wind there is through their work area and is helping. They move the fan to inside the hole.
After much salty language, they finally get the generator disconnected and we begin to hoist it out of the hole until the torque on the winch is more than I can muscle through. Gerry and I change places and he is able to power through the last turns to get the monster out of the hole and onto the deck. We cover the dang thing up and call it a day. We're all exhausted.
The next day is even hotter. We start with the trip to NexGen for the 4 additional engine mounts and since, they are going to take it out of the hole completely, they might as well take the opportunity to change the V-belt and impeller. In the process, we lose Gerry within their walls. He's in hog heaven. They tell him a couple of "secrets" to changing various belts and had no problem answering all of his technical questions. We swing by the local West Marine to pick up vent and water hoses (because as long as its out, you might was well change these too) and head back to the boat.
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| Dale in the Hole |
While the Tinker Twins discussed their plan of attack, I hung the tarp again. This time I ran a line from forestay to standing rigging pushing it up as high as I could reach and then using tent clips, from lifelines to the camber spar cover. In other words, I pitched a tent over their entire work area. It catches the breeze and is high enough not to rest on their heads. Again, they take turns working in the hole trying to loosen the stubborn sound enclosure with penetrating oil, salty language and the occasional swing of a hammer.
Finally, they are able to dislodge the final screw/bolt to find that the two metal bars connecting the lower engine mounts to the hull and sound enclosure had corroded almost to the breaking point. It was a good thing they had taken the time to break the whole thing down to parade rest to find all of the problems, as we would have been hard pressed to find replacements in some of the countries we'll be visiting when it broke during transit; and, there was no doubt, it would have broken. As it was, unless NexGen happened to carry the bars, it would be a custom aluminum fabrication.
Luck was with us on the next blistering day and our 3rd trip to NexGen had us walking out with 2 shiny new aluminum bars with holes predrilled to the exact size. I pitched my tent again and then watched as they reassembled everything back together. It seemed rather simple from my perspective. They were like two surgeons hovering over their patient: "A #13 wrench" "A #9 socket." Soon they were ready to move their patient to recovery; new water hoses pre-attached and dangling, new vent hoses standing by, screwdriver, wrenches, and socket sets all neatly laid out in front, and by mid afternoon we were carefully hoisting it back up and millimeter by millimeter lowering it into position. Another flurry of exchanging tools back and forth and then . . . where's that picture of the color coded wires? My duty as scrub nurse had me running for the cell phone, locating the photo, enlarging the details as much as possible and then handing the phone down into the hole.
[The sound of crickets.]
Although the Tweaker-in-Chief /Head Surgeon had thought to take the photo, he hadn't thought to label each wire. Process of elimination only takes you so far, then you have to dig out the wiring diagram and your multimeter. Once the various selections were made, I was instructed to stand by inside the boat turning the main power switch on/off and then various other little switches as instructed but I was to be quick to flip it off at a moments notice. Keep in mind that the main power switch is located deep inside a cabinet and all the other switches are located on the outside of the cabinet. OK. Ready! Main power on. Check. Main power off, check. Main power on, check. OK, now try to start the genset. It starts!! No arcs; no explosions. Success! Everyone loves it when a plan comes together. The Tweaker-in-Chief and Tinkering Consultant are patting each other on the back and in general, yucking it up, having a grand 'ol time. They let it run for a period of time and then instructed me to shut it down. I no sooner touch the toggle than they are both screaming and yelling stop! stop! stop! Shut down the main power! Alright, already! I dang near punctured a lung trying to get back into that cabinet.
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| The Tinker Twins |
After a short, but intense interrogation, they conclude that I did not hit the wrong switch but that one of the wires isn't in the right spot. They consult the wiring diagram again and then, in an act of desperation, agree to call NexGen for their thoughts on the matter. One of the first clues comes about after NexGen reviews the photo of the wires we text to them. There shouldn't be an orange wire! Someone, somewhere had worked on the genset before and used unauthorized colors! They can't instruct with any certainty now, but offer a few suggestions. The Tinker Twins go to work tracking down the problem. Yep sure enough, wires coming out of the boat change colors (there's a splice in them covered within a run) before entering the generator. Once the Twins figure that out, they are able with the multimeter to connect them to the proper spot and we test it again. This time it starts and stops as intended. Also, this time the celebration is decidedly more reserved with a contented sigh of relief.
A project that started out as needing a day, maybe two, has now taken the better part of a week to complete and Gerry has his own boat in Ft. Pierce to work on. In fact, he has two massive electric winches to install and Dale has promised to assist when Gerry has everything on board and "scienced" out.
There's a hurricane named Dorian churning in the Caribbean when Dale gets the call to head on down; I stay behind to work on some of my sewing projects. I guess because Florida has suffered greatly from two glancing blows and one massive hit in recent years, we all keep a serious eye on what looks to be coming our way. Its not looking good, so I start moving flower pots, my lotus sitting frog, and other tastefully silly statuary in the yard onto the patio. I fill up every gas can we have and top off my truck. The guys are able to get the two winches installed in a couple of days and Dale stays an extra day to help Gerry prepare his boat. Canvas is taken down, lines are extended and doubled up, dorades are stuffed, hatches taped and once Gerry's 52' boat is secured in a "spider web" of lines, fenders and fender boards, Dale heads back to do the same to ours.
I think this is the 4th time we've had to secure this particular boat for an impending storm. As we're a catamaran, insurance dictates that we secure ourselves in a marina, preferably with floating docks. We know what to do. However, its the first time that we've done it together. In years past, I've had the luxury of going to the marina early and would strip it myself, just piling everything inside. Then Dale would swing by after work and tweak everything I had done; adding a line here, tightening or retying a knot there, adjusting or adding fenders. We've been fortunate. We've seen literally a dozen or more boats sink within our marina or wash up on its shore; its not a pretty sight. We've watched as our dock mates tried to salvage their personal belongings once the boat is declared a total loss and it's heartbreaking. We know that our marina on base hasn't been repaired since Irma 3 years ago (Congress moves slowly), leaving the two piers most exposed to the river, unusable. We are vulnerable to a south wind.
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| Ready for Dorian |
Dale returns and we decide that this time, we'll store everything at home. We swing by our storage unit and pick up our storm lines, chains and oversized fenders and head to the boat to secure it as best we can. Canvas is loaded into my truck, portable electronics are collected and taken off and we set about adding fenders, doubling lines, adding snubbers (a type of shock absorber), lowering the dink to below our back transom height, removing the captain's chair, and this time adding a chain to the dock itself since our most forward cleat on the dock is weak. Dale repaired it with steel brackets to reinforce the split wood when it became obvious the marina wasn't going to be repaired anytime soon after Irma. We text a photo of our handiwork to Gerry who in turn, teases us that if the finger pier breaks this time, we'll float down the river taking the pier with us.
The next day the forecast predicts Dorian hitting south Florida, right about where Gerry is, heading inland and then straight up the center of Florida maintaining hurricane strength winds all the way to us. The strongest winds on the upper right side of the hurricane would be coming out of the south.
This time when we go to the boat, we take off most of our clothing and personal belongings, Dale's tools and all of our pantry items. Dale adds another line. Our dock mates a couple of slips down want to turn their boat around within their slip, so we offer a hand and Dale shows them how he added a chain to the dock in the event the cleat gives way. They don't have any solid cleats where they are.
When we get home, Dale moves all of our outdoor furniture and some of the plants on the patio closer to the house. He cuts down a dead tree in the preserve behind our house that is already tilted in our direction. No time to ask permission at this point. We call Gerry and plead with him to please come stay with us or at the very least get off the boat should the water crest the finger pier. He sounds depressed and says that if he loses the boat, he's going to collect the insurance money, go home to Tasmania and back to work. What can we say? We're thinking we're going to lose our boat too and Dale had already started talking about a Plan B. After all the time, work and money we've put into this boat, my Plan B is to wallow in my misery and never lift another deck brush again.
The next day, Dorian is predicted to slow and turn north moving farther to the east; a glimmer of hope. The base announces that it will be closing at 2 pm and not opening again until after the hurricane passes. Our last trip, so we take a few more things that can't be replaced should they get wet. With each weather update, hope slowly creeps back into our hearts. We
start thinking we might not get a direct hit after all; we have a fighting chance and might still go on our big adventure. We notice that our dock mates not only took Dale's suggestion about the chain to the dock but actually stretched their lines across to chain to the opposite side of us. If things get rough, there will be a tug of war over the finger pier. When we return home, Dale starts polishing the Isenglass windows within the canvas for something to do other than watch the painfully slow progress of the killer storm on TV. I sew, tear it out and stitch again. My machine is acting up. Why now? Gerry has found a safe place to stay, close to his boat, but not actually on it. We can live with that; so can he. He tells us that the water has risen to just beneath the finger pier and there are gale force winds buffeting his boat causing it to list but still riding well within the cobweb.
At last, Dorian passes to the east of us and we get no more than heavy rains and thunderstorms off and on throughout the day. We don't even lose power. Sadly, we still have to adjust our original plan. Our beloved Abacos are utterly destroyed and will take years to bounce back. Except for when we were sailing in the Caribbean in 2005 - 2006, we've spent our summer vacations there each year since 2000. We've taken 2 of our children, 7 of our 12 grandchildren, dear friends and extended relatives there to share our love of sailing and the joy we get from visiting the islands where we can be at the hottest party in town on Sunday or anchored in the lagoon of an uninhabited island on Monday. We had planned on passing through them one last time when we leave in November, but it looks like we'll have to adjust our plans and transit south to Miami and then across to Cat Cay as we did back in 2005. At this point, we're still going and on our own boat.
There's another storm brewing in the South Atlantic so we've elected to leave everything here at the house instead of putting it back on the boat, in case we have to go through all of this again in a couple of weeks. Hurricane season is over in November. I can step over all of the bags and boxes that clutter my house until then. My dining room is a sail loft and the rest of the house is half boat.
If you come for a visit, between now and November, bring a grappling hook; you may need it to get through the front door.
Gerry came back up this past weekend to help Dale run the cables for the new satellite telephone. They were having problems getting the software to connect and load, so on the drive back to Ft. Pierce, Gerry thought of another possibility and called. Dale had already resolved that particular problem but had moved on to another and started talking about GPS wiring, I couldn't help but smile when I heard them discussing whether it was a blue wire or a green one connected to the back. I can't wait until they start tweaking their single side band radios and begin pondering frequencies and copper strapping formulas.
Then it was on to China Lake where our youngest son
had taken the day off to go dune buggy riding with his own son, Aidan, and
Dale. I guess it was a 3 generation
attack on the desert. His wife, Stephanie,
granddaughter Adrianna, the baby, Alistair, and I spent the day creating
Halloween decorations. That was a 3
generation attack on JoAnn’s. Then a
midnight flight home to continue with our boat preps first thing in the
morning. 
