I think I speak for the whole crew when I say that we’re
feeling better prepared this time around. When we returned to Barra, we made a
punch list of the things that needed to be addressed—not only the outboard and
the accommodation ladder, but a few things that we really should have taken
care of before but didn’t, either due to time constraints or because we just
didn’t “feel like it” at the time. I’m happy to report that we completed the
entire list:
The dinghy outboard has been cleaned, checked, and WD-40ed;
it now seems to be in perfect working order and ready for its next beach
landing (where hopefully it will remain upright with the dinghy and not go
snorkeling.)
We had dinghy wheels installed so that we can get up on the
beach with a little less effort and, more importantly, get the dinghy back out
into open water more quickly (i.e. before the tidal wave can mount its attack.)
Editor’s Note: Unfortunately, the wheels
are impeding the range of motion of the outboard. Hopefully, we won’t have to
go anywhere that might require turning.
We had two steps added to the accommodation ladder and it’s
awesome! It’s strong, sturdy, and reaches all the way down to the dinghy. It has
been Otter tested and Deck Boss approved. On the downside, we had two steps (and
twenty pounds) added to the accommodation ladder and now need a lift crane to
get it into place.
Patent Pending. We're hoping to sell a ton of these so we can afford to fix whatever breaks next.
We unfurled all the sails to a) check that they weren’t
mildewed and/or harboring any critters, b) make sure they still went in and
out, and c) remember what they look like. The answers? Not really. Yes. White
with blue edges (although I could have sworn the main came with a small label at
the bottom that said, “If you can read this, you’re standing too close to the
boom again, idiot.”) ***
We replaced the Furuno navigation monitor in the pilothouse.
The original had developed an anomaly wherein it cast a sickly-looking pall
over half the screen making it difficult to ascertain where we were going. On
second thought, maybe it wasn’t the monitor, maybe it was an omen.
We fixed the AIS system. For you lubbers, AIS stands for
“Automatic Identification System” and is a tracking system that displays a
vessel’s name, size, position, speed, etc. on radar so you can gauge the marine
traffic in your vicinity. It’s mandatory for commercial ships over 300 gross
tons as well as passenger ships, but leisure boats are getting in on the action
as well. It’s a safety thing mostly and, I must admit, kind of a rush when you
hear over the radio, “Sailing Vessel Raven. This is Container Ship Goliath
bearing down on you at 45 knots. Kindly turn 20 degrees to port before we mow
you down. Over.” And you think, “Wow! He knows my name!”
We finally defrosted the plate freezer. We have a pretty good-sized
freezer on board—it’s one foot wide, by three feet long, by three feet deep—and
sometime in the last year, it developed a faulty seal which led to a deadly
cycle of thaw-freeze-thaw-freeze which turned the whole thing into an iceberg
of Costco proportions (and not just because most of the food in there was from
Costco.) It took a solid eight hours of
heat guns, ice picks, and extremely awkward contorting to finish the task but
when it was all done, we had a thorough inventory of food we had totally
forgotten about as well as room for more food that we can totally forget about.
I’m also pretty sure we found the frozen remains of Ernest Shackleton down
there.
And last, but not least…the blog was updated and is now
current. Editor’s Note: If it isn’t,
you’ll never know because I’ll totally remove this paragraph.
We did add one thing to the list that we’ll address down the
line. There’s an exposed control panel next to the navigation station with the
switches that operate the engine and various pumps. Edgrrr likes to sleep right
next to this control panel—not because it’s comfortable or anything, but
because he likes how we get all anxious when he’s that close to boat controls.
At any rate, one afternoon, he knocked over the shot glass that was covering
one of the toggles and engaged the bilge pump (which is a roundabout way of
saying he caused us to belch oily residue into the water.) We decided that it’d
probably behoove us to build a teak box to cover the control panel rather than
relying on our barware to keep our systems in check. We figure that will be a
good project next time we’re a month or so in port. Until then, we’ll block his
access with an empty bottle of tequila.
So, as you can see, we’ve been keeping busy. As a result,
the time has flown past and apart from a wild kingdom incident, the holidays
were very low key. What incident you ask? Well it’s a given that dogs like to
chase things, especially dogs of the hunting/sporting variety of which Otter is
a combo. His German Shorthaired side likes to track things which his Labrador
side is keen to retrieve (he is, in fact, the only dog I know of that will
point the ball prior to fetching it.) And the forests around here are rife with
things to chase. Iguanas, lizards, snakes, and birds of every variety
(including the ever-present chicken) are not immune to his pursuit, but one
critter is his absolute favorite. It looks like a fat, furry possum with a
really long tail and trash panda markings. Some people refer to it as a
“raccoon thing”, I’m partial to “lemur thing”, but the official name is coatimundi.
They tend to travel in large, noisy packs which make them easy targets as you
can hear them grunting, barking, and snorting from a mile away. And rather than
scatter at the sight of a predator, one of them will take one for the team and
break away from the pack, leading the predator on a zig zag course through the
underbrush while the others calmly head towards the trees. Indeed, on more than
one occasion, Otter will have his nose stuck in a bush trying to sniff out one
while another four will waddle right past him—bitching the whole time. We’re
not sure if he’s that dumb or if they’re that clever but it seems to be
effective.
There are quite a few that live up in the hills, but you
generally don’t see them on the resort/marina grounds because there’s a guy
whose job it is to trap any wildlife and set it free off the property. Of
course, he tends to set the animals free just over the property line so that
they come right back and thus guarantees him some job security. So it was one
evening, that Otter and I were coming back from visiting a friend’s boat when
suddenly Otter spotted a band of coatimundi just past the guard house at the
marina. He gave chase while the coatis hastened their pace and started to climb
into the trees. Just then, one of them stopped, turned around, and took a
running leap at Otter like a lemur with nothing to lose. With only the
illumination from the street light, all I could make out was a whirling mass of
black that looked vaguely like Otter wearing a fur stole and doing pirouettes.
I couldn’t tell who had who in whoever’s mouth, but as neither was responding
to my yells and stamping, I finally chucked two books at them until they
finally broke free of one another and the coati went running after his cohorts.
Otter had a few scratches, but was fine—albeit a little amped up. As for the coatimundi,
he is probably being worshipped as a god among lemur-things and will get free
drinks for life at the local wildlife bar.
Part raccoon, part fashion accessory, all badass.
*** Well…it WAS
working.
In the week since it was tested, the roller furling on the
main sail has ceased to function. And because things couldn’t get more stupid,
the problem seems to be originating with a toggle that switches the system from
electric to manual. In other words, we can’t get the main sail in or out—either
electrically or via a winch--except through an override gear on the mast itself
which advances the sail at about two inches per twist and only if a second
person is holding the sheet taut. So basically, it’s useless. We pulled out the
manual and of course—OF COURSE! —the one page that’s missing (the one with the
gooseneck diagram) is the page we need. The Captain got on the phone with our riggers
in San Diego to try and pinpoint the problem and if it’s the part that everyone
seems to think it is, it’s not going to be an easy fix and could very well
entail removing the sail AND the boom to get to the mechanism in question. It’s
not a job for a layman, and it’s very possible that if we can’t find someone
locally, we may be flying someone in to do the job.
So okay then. We still have the jib and the mizzen. Technically,
we can still head south with just those two sails and tackle the mainsail when
we get to Chiapas where we are planning a haul out to have the bottom painted.
We can do this. That is, we COULD have done it had the roller furling on the
jib not decided that if the main isn’t working then it shouldn’t be expected to
take up the slack, so it just up and quit too. With two sails out of
commission, we are—in effect—a sailboat without sails. And maybe that’s not
detrimental if the engine is reliable, but at this point we’re not so sure we
want to take that chance.
So, what are we going to do now? First, we’re going to
drink. And then we’re going to wallow. And then we’re going to formulate a game
plan. I’ll let you know what we decide…
Good post. Mike at North Sails in La Cruz may be able to help with the main and jib.
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