Hey, my turn again!
I get to write about the struggle and strife. That's not Maureen, read on if you dare and you'll get the picture.
Our second day in the beautiful Marquesas brought a totally unexpected experience when I was awakened to repeated bilge pump activations. Upon exploring the reason, I discovered a bilge full of oil and an engine without any. Not a good start to the day.
Further examination showed a loose engine oil filter, the vibrations in our Pacific crossing had played tricks. This led to an examination of all other connections during which time a brief juggle of a thick diesel hose connecting the two large tanks to the lower main one inexplicably broke loose of it's mounting and refilled the bilge, this time with diesel.
The automatic bilge pump of course worked perfectly and dumped 200 litres of precious fuel into the Pacific before I managed to staunch the flow.
Well sometimes it's good having a couple of bad experiences, things can only improve.
So, it proved as we thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Fatu Hiva. My turn to expand on the blog occurred a few days later in passage from our third Marquesan
landfall, Viatahu, to our intended fourth at Ua Poi.
Sailing in the company of Vagabond, we left in the late afternoon for the overnight trip of 72 nautical miles. An hour and six miles out, we were travelling too fast with a fresh breeze on the starboard beam and the benefit of a knot of current but we still had the engine running as we were making water. At our speed of 8.5 knots we would be arriving in the wee hours, so I put the engine in neutral and then detected an unusual engine sound. Immediately alarm bells rang in my head. I immediately checked the bilge; we had switched the automatic pump off as whilst sailing on a heel, it tends to go off too frequently.
Sure enough what looked like a thick covering of black oil shone back in the light of my torch. I unhesitatingly shut down the water-maker and stopped the engine.
The final proof was mine in seconds, not a trace of oil on the dipstick. I had all
the evidence I needed, strange metallic noises like loose tappets from the
engine, a bilge full of oil and an engine without any.
Otto called breezily over the VHF radio asking "How's thing going?" "Couldn't
be much worse" I replied and repeated the symptoms we were experiencing. "That's bad" he agreed and suggested a return to Tuahatu where we knew a cruiser in the anchorage was a Swedish diesel mechanic.
We agreed to return and started sailing back but with no engine to charge batteries we were forced to hand steer. The wind was naturally now dead on the nose, forcing us to beat and tack to windward. Fortunately, we had only travelled a little over six miles so we should be back at anchor in a couple of hours, or so we thought.
First the wind reduced to a point where we were pressed to exceed the speed of the current, now against us, but it was too low to permit coming about, forcing us to jibe. The only problem with jibing whilst beating is the time it takes in light winds as well as the amount of lost ground. Nevertheless, we sailed on reaching a point when the only wind was during a number of short rain squalls so, whilst we were soaked making the most of the squalls, we managed to make a little progress but then it was back to flogging sails and moving backwards in the current.
The expected two hour return dragged on until daylight the following morning which found us within sight of our anchorage. Otto, who had slept with his
radio beside him all night waiting for the call, kindly came out in his dinghy
to tow us in over the last half mile. Thank goodness for cruising friends, it would have been nigh impossible to get into the bay and anchor as the gusts inside the bay were incredibly strong.
After a good rest, I rechecked oil in the engine - miraculously it had reappeared. Next I checked the bilge and, sure enough, it showed the unmistaken reflection of oil. However, the oil layer proved to be only a molecule or so thick. The unusual sound of the engine I can only now assume was the result of an idling engine with reverse rotating prop shaft caused by un-driven propeller. Having had so many things go wrong in the last short while, I think we were becoming a little paranoid.
Suffice to say, the Swedish diesel mechanic described the sound of our engine as "sheer sweetness." All ended well and what could so easily have spelt the end of our cruising was nothing more than a wake up against complacency. Also on the positive side, after so many weeks of sailing without really having to tack or touch the sails, we were given some invaluable experience of boat handling in tricky circumstances and we're happy to report that we managed it all without difficulty.
I get to write about the struggle and strife. That's not Maureen, read on if you dare and you'll get the picture.
Our second day in the beautiful Marquesas brought a totally unexpected experience when I was awakened to repeated bilge pump activations. Upon exploring the reason, I discovered a bilge full of oil and an engine without any. Not a good start to the day.
Further examination showed a loose engine oil filter, the vibrations in our Pacific crossing had played tricks. This led to an examination of all other connections during which time a brief juggle of a thick diesel hose connecting the two large tanks to the lower main one inexplicably broke loose of it's mounting and refilled the bilge, this time with diesel.
The automatic bilge pump of course worked perfectly and dumped 200 litres of precious fuel into the Pacific before I managed to staunch the flow.
Well sometimes it's good having a couple of bad experiences, things can only improve.
So, it proved as we thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Fatu Hiva. My turn to expand on the blog occurred a few days later in passage from our third Marquesan
landfall, Viatahu, to our intended fourth at Ua Poi.
Sailing in the company of Vagabond, we left in the late afternoon for the overnight trip of 72 nautical miles. An hour and six miles out, we were travelling too fast with a fresh breeze on the starboard beam and the benefit of a knot of current but we still had the engine running as we were making water. At our speed of 8.5 knots we would be arriving in the wee hours, so I put the engine in neutral and then detected an unusual engine sound. Immediately alarm bells rang in my head. I immediately checked the bilge; we had switched the automatic pump off as whilst sailing on a heel, it tends to go off too frequently.
Sure enough what looked like a thick covering of black oil shone back in the light of my torch. I unhesitatingly shut down the water-maker and stopped the engine.
The final proof was mine in seconds, not a trace of oil on the dipstick. I had all
the evidence I needed, strange metallic noises like loose tappets from the
engine, a bilge full of oil and an engine without any.
Otto called breezily over the VHF radio asking "How's thing going?" "Couldn't
be much worse" I replied and repeated the symptoms we were experiencing. "That's bad" he agreed and suggested a return to Tuahatu where we knew a cruiser in the anchorage was a Swedish diesel mechanic.
We agreed to return and started sailing back but with no engine to charge batteries we were forced to hand steer. The wind was naturally now dead on the nose, forcing us to beat and tack to windward. Fortunately, we had only travelled a little over six miles so we should be back at anchor in a couple of hours, or so we thought.
First the wind reduced to a point where we were pressed to exceed the speed of the current, now against us, but it was too low to permit coming about, forcing us to jibe. The only problem with jibing whilst beating is the time it takes in light winds as well as the amount of lost ground. Nevertheless, we sailed on reaching a point when the only wind was during a number of short rain squalls so, whilst we were soaked making the most of the squalls, we managed to make a little progress but then it was back to flogging sails and moving backwards in the current.
The expected two hour return dragged on until daylight the following morning which found us within sight of our anchorage. Otto, who had slept with his
radio beside him all night waiting for the call, kindly came out in his dinghy
to tow us in over the last half mile. Thank goodness for cruising friends, it would have been nigh impossible to get into the bay and anchor as the gusts inside the bay were incredibly strong.
After a good rest, I rechecked oil in the engine - miraculously it had reappeared. Next I checked the bilge and, sure enough, it showed the unmistaken reflection of oil. However, the oil layer proved to be only a molecule or so thick. The unusual sound of the engine I can only now assume was the result of an idling engine with reverse rotating prop shaft caused by un-driven propeller. Having had so many things go wrong in the last short while, I think we were becoming a little paranoid.
Suffice to say, the Swedish diesel mechanic described the sound of our engine as "sheer sweetness." All ended well and what could so easily have spelt the end of our cruising was nothing more than a wake up against complacency. Also on the positive side, after so many weeks of sailing without really having to tack or touch the sails, we were given some invaluable experience of boat handling in tricky circumstances and we're happy to report that we managed it all without difficulty.
1 comment:
Unbelievable - but as I felt in the end, better safe than sorry. What an amazing support group...and, loved the mine is bigger than yours story...and how neat this past couple of weeks have been. So good to hear your update. Got Maureen's email yesterday. I have a colourful map and just following your travels all over the place....be safe.
Post a Comment