"cruisin" wrote in message
...

It's better and good reading but I can improve it for you somewhat gratis:
Mostly I've used more varied and descriptive verbs, corrected some grammar
problems and tried to make it more personal.

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What happens to a sailboat in storage on the hard for a long time?
More than one might expect and it's not a pretty sight.

Having left our boat in Fiji, with her keel set in a hole in the ground to
reduce
the chance she'd get blown over by tropical cyclone winds, we expected to
return to find mold growing on almost every surface. That's because we
knew there would be very few nice days for our boat-minder to air her
out. Also, we'd previously been informed that the charge controller for
our photovoltaics had gone kaput, meaning the batteries would be flat and
the fans not working. Since the engine couldn't be started, we expected
there would be some problems there, as well.

Even though we expected such things, the reality was so shocking that
we doubt we'll ever leave our girl alone like that again. The bottom
line is what we've always known: the worst thing you can do to a boat
is to not use her for a long time.

Getting Arabella cleaned up wasn't really too hard - just a good deal of
elbow grease. We wiped everything down with bleach, and she was good
to go. And, fortunately, our four golf cart batteries were tough enough to
be brought back, because replacing them here in Fiji would have set us
back about $500 for each one. The new controller for the solar panels was
a cinch to install. Most of the pumps and sundry motors were operational,
which was a relief, but the bilge pump float switch had given up the ghost.
We installed a spare, so no problem there.

Then came splash day. The short trip from the Travel-Lift to the berth
would have been comical if it weren't so stressful on poor Barb. There
really
wasn't a practical way to test the engine before we hit the water other than
a quick crank, or at least that's what I thought. So there Arabella was,
hanging
in the straps, with me cranking the old Isuzu, running below to bleed fuel,
trying
to start her again, and so forth. All the while, the very patient lift
operator was
wishing we'd hurry up and either poop or get off the pot.

It's true, we could have gotten a tow to our berth, but no, I thought
to myself, I've gotta get this beast going. Finally there was a cloud
of smoke and she sputtered to life. Whoopee! Happy times now that she
smoothed out and purred like a kitten.

The transmission, which I tried before we went into the water, seemed
to be fine, so off we went on the 200-yard voyage across the little
lagoon that is the marina here.

"What's all that smoke coming out of the cabin," Barb suddenly
shrieked as we motored away from the launching area.

"It's nothing major," I demurred, having taken a quick look and
seeing that the alternator belt was slipping a little. Just then the
engine alarm commenced buzzing raucously.

"That's not a problem either," I mumbled while reaching for the kill
switch, which had rusted solid and was unmovable, "I'll put her in
neutral and we'll coast in."

But, as you might have guessed, the shift lever picked that moment to stop
moving, so we were stuck in forward, unable to take the engine out of
gear and could not shut her down. Besides that, we were closing rapidly on
the sea wall!

Fortunately, we were able to do a quick 180 degree turn before striking the
wall, and I was eventually able to budge the kill switch enough to shut the
engine down. After further investigation, I discovered why the engine alarm
had sounded: the alternator drive shaft had rusted solid, and the belt that
also
turns the water pump had melted down on the pulley.

Amazingly enough, after going through an entire can of WD-40 and Tri-
Flow, everything seems to be running well again, and we may actually
get out of here in a week or so. Nonetheless, I think both Barb and I
acquired several new gray hairs that afternoon.

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Wilbur Hubbard