October Ooops!

We left you last time having successfully dodged all the September storms,
enjoying sailing and diving in the warm Bahamas waters.

October is still well within the hurricane season, however, and, true to
form, several storms formed and went on. At this writing, Otto is making
his way up the North Atlantic, far from us, and, the track forecasts expect,
even poor Bermuda, which has been sorely tested this season. The associated
weather systems of the various storms, fronts, lows and troughs brought
relatively higher winds to the Bahamas, but no emergencies...

We left Marsh Harbour to go visit Hopetown, nearby, successfully navigating
the "deep draft" route into an otherwise very shallow entrance to the
harbor. We were led into the mooring field by a friend who'd offered us his
mooring for our stay there, a real benefit, as it was free.

Hopetown harbor has very little anchoring room due to all the moorings
present, but it's pretty well protected. In fact, from Marsh Harbour, it is
our most immediately available hurricane hole. In speaking with our friend,
we learned that 15 of the moorings there were installed when he had taken
over Abaco Charters, now defunct following hurricane Floyd, which saw
sustained winds of 240mph. Those new moorings were massive fixtures screwed
into bedrock and unlikely to move as the 4000# concrete blocks did,
accompanying virtually every boat in the harbor to the lee shore.

He cautioned that his mooring was only concrete, and when we got an expected
blow, it would be prudent to move onto one of the others.

Despite the forecasts, we didn't have huge winds, but we did have a brief
period of sustained 20-30mph breezes early in the month. Our KISS wind
generator does a great job of keeping our batteries topped up, but it
doesn't really like continous high winds. It has protective circuits in it
to prevent damage from overheating in those conditions, and I'd noted that
our ammeter, the gauge which tells us how much power we're generating, was
indicating that those safety features were kicking in.

However, we also noted that it seemed that our unit wasn't performing up to
snuff, particularly in that it didn't turn in the same level of light winds
as before. An investigative trip into the engine room, guided by emailed
instructions from our vendor, svhotwire.com, showed that not everything was
perfect. All of my diagnostics seemed to be showing that all was well, but,
in desperation, I employed one of the tricks shown in that email, taking out
the control switch, bypassing it by connecting our power leads directly to
the rectifier, the electronics which convert alternating current from the
generator to direct current which the batteries can use.

Sure enough, the unit seems to be operating as it should, other than it
seemed to take more wind than before to turn. I'd check that next, but
taking the switch to the workbench, and diagnosing with a multimeter, I
discovered a tiny bleedover between poles of the switch in the "on"
position. That would negate some of the power, and, even, tend to make the
system think it was "off" - a condition which causes the blades to turn very
slowly in high winds, without generating power. Ooops!

Good news, that's a simple fix, and having the switch out of the circuit
just means that in a severe blow I would have have to cock the KISS so as to
not freely turn to follow the wind, exactly the means I used during
Hurricane Hanna, during high winds. Sure enough, in the blow described
below, it did, in fact, continue to make power in an about-20* offset
condition, during sustained high winds later.

We'd had a forecast of high winds which looked like they'd never arrive, as
the day appointed was nearly calm. I took that advantage to climb up to the
KISS and slowly rotate the blade. I'll save you the geek talk, but there's
some suspicion that I might have a failing bearing. Ooops!

No biggie - if one fails completely, it will just not turn, not destroy the
unit, and I'd taken the precaution of ordering another set after our unit
took its swim in Marsh Harbour very early this year. Faithful followers of
our adventures will recall that I inspected the current bearings after
removing them from the rotor and found them to be in apparent good
condition. Thus relieved, I heavily greased them and reinstalled them
before reassembly.

It may be that our seeming slower turning blade is related, but for now, all
appears well, other than that it doesn't turn in light winds. That's of
little matter in the end, as power doesn't start to develop in earnest until
we get above 10 knots.

Back to the mooring, however, the blow arrived the following night. I got
up at my usual time to prepare for my being the morning "Cruisers' Net"
anchor. RIGHT before I was to go on the air my display (apparently - see
below) died. Ooops!

As I had no means to troubleshoot and also do my work, I called my backup,
who took over for me

My computer problem turned out to be a loose video connection, easily
remedied, and I was back in business immediately. However, as long as my
backup had the net started, I'd stay out of his way. Good thing, too, as
Lydia was in the cockpit just starting her coffee and hollered me topsides,
double-quick.

Our mooring line had parted, and under 25-30mph wind-driven rain, we were
headed straight for a rock wall. Ooops!

The first immediate solution was to turn on the engine. Crankety crank, but
no fire. We continued toward the wall. Ooops!

Leaping out of the cockpit, I slipped on the wet deck and fell against the
rail. Up quickly, I got the anchor deployed, which despite it streaming
behind us, arrested our forward motion. I'd later discover a gash in my
shoulder/arm where I hit a fitting on the way down, unnoticed in all the
excitement until I saw the blood, and the barked knee (non-skid is
abrasive!) which suppurated a bit, discovered even later. Ooops!

Now that our forward motion was stopped, we came to rest against a piling on
the dock adjacent to a home for sale. If the wind were to shift, we'd have
the potential to rotate on that piling and then slide, stern first, into the
dock. So, I made us fast to the piling in such a way that we couldn't slip
back. Once secure against that potential, we set about to improving our
situation, as we didn't want to stay where we were, pinned against a piling,
particularly since we were in relatively shallow water at high tide -
waiting for the blow to finish would mean we were also aground!

As the prior mooring was untenable, we made ready to go to one of the
hurricane-proven bouys. Fortunately, we carry LOTS of line, including one
of the original 3/4" 3-strand anchor rodes. It was long enough to reach the
bouy, where I tied it off. Loosening the windlass clutch after I put the
snubber on the anchor chain, so it wouldn't continue to run out, we took the
rode around the windlass' capstan. Then, using the tremendous mechanical
advantage of the windlass, we tightened the line so that even though the
anchor was set (on an extremely short scope, of which I was fearful!) we'd
not have the potential to move closer to the wall.

Our second line was a 100' sheet left over from our original running
rigging. Taking that to the mooring ball, and securing it, and then,
leading it over the turning block for our normal genoa sheets at the stern,
I was able to take tension on that line by winching it tight.

With the bow line tight, and the line to the piling keepin us from swinging
into the dock, with Lydia on the windlass and me on the winch, we pulled
ourselves off the piling with the triangle formed by the bow line, the stern
line, and Flying Pig. We were now held in place, with no pressure on the
piling.

Meanwhile, it had rained so much that our dinghy was inches deep in water,
well over the "bilge" floorboards. Ironically, that made for more stability
in the wind and the waves, so I left emptying it for another day, but made
great use of it several tims that day.

Thus temporarily secured from moving, and no longer pressing up against the
piling, we set about to getting our auxiliary engine started. We were not
seriously down in our capacity, but our voltage, apparently,. was just a bit
low for the high revs needed from the starter. Running the Honda generator
for just a couple of minutes, due to the power being fed to the batteries at
a much higher voltage, the engine started right up.

Thus emboldended, and with the stern line on the buoy preventing us from
sliding rearward, we continued winching until we were well away. Running
the windlass enough to turn us into the wind allowed us remove the line we'd
thrown over the piling to prevent our moving backward, so we were now free.

We continued winching with the bow line until until we were able to attach
to that (temporary) mooring with their two, much stouter, pendants. Once
secure, I took the rode off the windlass, reset the clutch, and retrieved
the anchor. Once the anchor was secured by clipping it to the strong point
on the bow, it made the windlass again suitable for duty on a bow line, so,
once again, I released the clutch, taking the chain gypsy out of the system,
but leaving the capstan engaged.

Our excursion had happened nearly exactly at the lunar high tide. As the
mooring was the closest one, we were concerned for our depth, now falling
fast, so we repeated the process, moving to a more centrally located
mooring.

First, though, I had to get our bit of a rats nest of lines, formed in the
hurry-up mode, sorted out. Our first step was to relieve the pressure on the
3/4" line, held fast in the chock by the pendant's pressure. Our inflatable
dinghy sometimes does tugboat duty, and this was one of those cases. I used
it to shove the bow to the other side, taking more pressure on the opposite
pendant and relieving that on my side.

Once the "safety line" was free from that trap, I still had to get the
knotted lines off the temporary buoy. It was a bit of wrestling match,
compounded by the now-very-tight pendants' thimbles (a stainless steel
reinforcement inside the rope loop attached to the buoy) compressed against
them, but soon enough, the stern line was on deck, and the bow line was
free.

By this time, we considered the 3/4" rode a "safety line" in the event of
the mooring pendants' potential failure. So, I took that line to the final
mooring. Smarter, this time, I put that knot on a different point, one
which wouldn't be fouled by the thimbles, and we took up the slack with the
windlass. Once the tension was off, it was a simple matter to slip off the
temporary mooring's pendants, and we were free.

However, the direction of the wind was such that we were likely to swing (on
this very long line) into another of the mooring bouys very closely spaced
here. So, while Lydia controlled the windlass, taking up the just-slack
line I maintained by controlling our speed, I steered us clear of the other
buoys. We were soon snug to the new mooring, and I once again got back in
the dinghy, making sure there were no fouls in the pendants, and handed them
up for Lydia to install.

Once those were in place, we removed the safety line from the windlass and
cleated it off in the still-howling wind. By this time, however, the rain
had stopped, albeit totally cloudy, and we set about to clean up. Lines
stowed, gashes washed out with hydrogen peroxide and bandaged, we "sat a
spell" - as they say in the south - enjoying our coffee and somewhat delayed
breakfast!

A day later, the sun came out, so I got in the dinghy and bailed the bulk of
it out. Normally, I'd just run the dinghy fast enough that it would run out
the drain hole in the transom, but the harbor has a 3mph speed limit, so the
last of it would have to wait for later. At the same time, the wind died
(to mid-high teens) sufficiently to allow returning the KISS to its free
postion, and we once again were enjoying our free 15-30A (currently 10
knots, 7A wind, and 25A solar). With the passage of that front, it's now
cooler, too, but still a lovely upper-70s, very dry air. Ahhh...

So, all is well in the Bahamas. I think it likely that the
adrenaline-enhancing excitement might be finished for a while. Those
interested will still be able to see our route into Hopetown on
tinyurl.com/flyingpigspot for another couple of days, and, as we move on in
a few days, those travels as well.

So, until next time, Stay Tuned!

L8R

Skip

Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery!
Follow us at http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog and/or
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog

"Believe me, my young friend, there is *nothing*-absolutely nothing-half so
much worth doing as simply messing, messing-about-in-boats; messing about in
boats-or *with* boats.
In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's
the charm of it.
Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your
destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get
anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in
particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and
you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."

"Flying Pig" wrote in message
...
snip
Hopetown harbor has very little anchoring room due to all the moorings
present, but it's pretty well protected. In fact, from Marsh Harbour, it
is
our most immediately available hurricane hole. In speaking with our
friend,
we learned that 15 of the moorings there were installed when he had taken
over Abaco Charters, now defunct following hurricane Floyd, which saw
sustained winds of 240mph. snip

I hope that's a typo, Skippy. Sustained winds of 240mph would be what? a
category 10? lol http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Floyd#Bahamas

Maybe you meant 240kph????



Wilbur Hubbard

"Flying Pig" wrote in message
...
October Ooops!

We left you last time having successfully dodged all the September storms,
enjoying sailing and diving in the warm Bahamas waters.

October is still well within the hurricane season, however, and, true to
form, several storms formed and went on. At this writing, Otto is making
his way up the North Atlantic, far from us, and, the track forecasts
expect,
even poor Bermuda, which has been sorely tested this season. The
associated
weather systems of the various storms, fronts, lows and troughs brought
relatively higher winds to the Bahamas, but no emergencies...

We left Marsh Harbour to go visit Hopetown, nearby, successfully
navigating
the "deep draft" route into an otherwise very shallow entrance to the
harbor. We were led into the mooring field by a friend who'd offered us
his
mooring for our stay there, a real benefit, as it was free.

Hopetown harbor has very little anchoring room due to all the moorings
present, but it's pretty well protected. In fact, from Marsh Harbour, it
is
our most immediately available hurricane hole. In speaking with our
friend,
we learned that 15 of the moorings there were installed when he had taken
over Abaco Charters, now defunct following hurricane Floyd, which saw
sustained winds of 240mph. Those new moorings were massive fixtures
screwed
into bedrock and unlikely to move as the 4000# concrete blocks did,
accompanying virtually every boat in the harbor to the lee shore.

He cautioned that his mooring was only concrete, and when we got an
expected
blow, it would be prudent to move onto one of the others.

Despite the forecasts, we didn't have huge winds, but we did have a brief
period of sustained 20-30mph breezes early in the month. Our KISS wind
generator does a great job of keeping our batteries topped up, but it
doesn't really like continous high winds. It has protective circuits in
it
to prevent damage from overheating in those conditions, and I'd noted that
our ammeter, the gauge which tells us how much power we're generating, was
indicating that those safety features were kicking in.

However, we also noted that it seemed that our unit wasn't performing up
to
snuff, particularly in that it didn't turn in the same level of light
winds
as before. An investigative trip into the engine room, guided by emailed
instructions from our vendor, svhotwire.com, showed that not everything
was
perfect. All of my diagnostics seemed to be showing that all was well,
but,
in desperation, I employed one of the tricks shown in that email, taking
out
the control switch, bypassing it by connecting our power leads directly to
the rectifier, the electronics which convert alternating current from the
generator to direct current which the batteries can use.

Sure enough, the unit seems to be operating as it should, other than it
seemed to take more wind than before to turn. I'd check that next, but
taking the switch to the workbench, and diagnosing with a multimeter, I
discovered a tiny bleedover between poles of the switch in the "on"
position. That would negate some of the power, and, even, tend to make
the
system think it was "off" - a condition which causes the blades to turn
very
slowly in high winds, without generating power. Ooops!

Good news, that's a simple fix, and having the switch out of the circuit
just means that in a severe blow I would have have to cock the KISS so as
to
not freely turn to follow the wind, exactly the means I used during
Hurricane Hanna, during high winds. Sure enough, in the blow described
below, it did, in fact, continue to make power in an about-20* offset
condition, during sustained high winds later.

We'd had a forecast of high winds which looked like they'd never arrive,
as
the day appointed was nearly calm. I took that advantage to climb up to
the
KISS and slowly rotate the blade. I'll save you the geek talk, but
there's
some suspicion that I might have a failing bearing. Ooops!

No biggie - if one fails completely, it will just not turn, not destroy
the
unit, and I'd taken the precaution of ordering another set after our unit
took its swim in Marsh Harbour very early this year. Faithful followers
of
our adventures will recall that I inspected the current bearings after
removing them from the rotor and found them to be in apparent good
condition. Thus relieved, I heavily greased them and reinstalled them
before reassembly.

It may be that our seeming slower turning blade is related, but for now,
all
appears well, other than that it doesn't turn in light winds. That's of
little matter in the end, as power doesn't start to develop in earnest
until
we get above 10 knots.

Back to the mooring, however, the blow arrived the following night. I got
up at my usual time to prepare for my being the morning "Cruisers' Net"
anchor. RIGHT before I was to go on the air my display (apparently - see
below) died. Ooops!

As I had no means to troubleshoot and also do my work, I called my backup,
who took over for me

My computer problem turned out to be a loose video connection, easily
remedied, and I was back in business immediately. However, as long as my
backup had the net started, I'd stay out of his way. Good thing, too, as
Lydia was in the cockpit just starting her coffee and hollered me
topsides,
double-quick.

Our mooring line had parted, and under 25-30mph wind-driven rain, we were
headed straight for a rock wall. Ooops!

The first immediate solution was to turn on the engine. Crankety crank,
but
no fire. We continued toward the wall. Ooops!

Leaping out of the cockpit, I slipped on the wet deck and fell against the
rail. Up quickly, I got the anchor deployed, which despite it streaming
behind us, arrested our forward motion. I'd later discover a gash in my
shoulder/arm where I hit a fitting on the way down, unnoticed in all the
excitement until I saw the blood, and the barked knee (non-skid is
abrasive!) which suppurated a bit, discovered even later. Ooops!

Now that our forward motion was stopped, we came to rest against a piling
on
the dock adjacent to a home for sale. If the wind were to shift, we'd
have
the potential to rotate on that piling and then slide, stern first, into
the
dock. So, I made us fast to the piling in such a way that we couldn't
slip
back. Once secure against that potential, we set about to improving our
situation, as we didn't want to stay where we were, pinned against a
piling,
particularly since we were in relatively shallow water at high tide -
waiting for the blow to finish would mean we were also aground!

As the prior mooring was untenable, we made ready to go to one of the
hurricane-proven bouys. Fortunately, we carry LOTS of line, including one
of the original 3/4" 3-strand anchor rodes. It was long enough to reach
the
bouy, where I tied it off. Loosening the windlass clutch after I put the
snubber on the anchor chain, so it wouldn't continue to run out, we took
the
rode around the windlass' capstan. Then, using the tremendous mechanical
advantage of the windlass, we tightened the line so that even though the
anchor was set (on an extremely short scope, of which I was fearful!) we'd
not have the potential to move closer to the wall.

Our second line was a 100' sheet left over from our original running
rigging. Taking that to the mooring ball, and securing it, and then,
leading it over the turning block for our normal genoa sheets at the
stern,
I was able to take tension on that line by winching it tight.

With the bow line tight, and the line to the piling keepin us from
swinging
into the dock, with Lydia on the windlass and me on the winch, we pulled
ourselves off the piling with the triangle formed by the bow line, the
stern
line, and Flying Pig. We were now held in place, with no pressure on the
piling.

Meanwhile, it had rained so much that our dinghy was inches deep in water,
well over the "bilge" floorboards. Ironically, that made for more
stability
in the wind and the waves, so I left emptying it for another day, but made
great use of it several tims that day.

Thus temporarily secured from moving, and no longer pressing up against
the
piling, we set about to getting our auxiliary engine started. We were not
seriously down in our capacity, but our voltage, apparently,. was just a
bit
low for the high revs needed from the starter. Running the Honda
generator
for just a couple of minutes, due to the power being fed to the batteries
at
a much higher voltage, the engine started right up.

Thus emboldended, and with the stern line on the buoy preventing us from
sliding rearward, we continued winching until we were well away. Running
the windlass enough to turn us into the wind allowed us remove the line
we'd
thrown over the piling to prevent our moving backward, so we were now
free.

We continued winching with the bow line until until we were able to attach
to that (temporary) mooring with their two, much stouter, pendants. Once
secure, I took the rode off the windlass, reset the clutch, and retrieved
the anchor. Once the anchor was secured by clipping it to the strong
point
on the bow, it made the windlass again suitable for duty on a bow line,
so,
once again, I released the clutch, taking the chain gypsy out of the
system,
but leaving the capstan engaged.

Our excursion had happened nearly exactly at the lunar high tide. As the
mooring was the closest one, we were concerned for our depth, now falling
fast, so we repeated the process, moving to a more centrally located
mooring.

First, though, I had to get our bit of a rats nest of lines, formed in the
hurry-up mode, sorted out. Our first step was to relieve the pressure on
the
3/4" line, held fast in the chock by the pendant's pressure. Our
inflatable
dinghy sometimes does tugboat duty, and this was one of those cases. I
used
it to shove the bow to the other side, taking more pressure on the
opposite
pendant and relieving that on my side.

Once the "safety line" was free from that trap, I still had to get the
knotted lines off the temporary buoy. It was a bit of wrestling match,
compounded by the now-very-tight pendants' thimbles (a stainless steel
reinforcement inside the rope loop attached to the buoy) compressed
against
them, but soon enough, the stern line was on deck, and the bow line was
free.

By this time, we considered the 3/4" rode a "safety line" in the event of
the mooring pendants' potential failure. So, I took that line to the final
mooring. Smarter, this time, I put that knot on a different point, one
which wouldn't be fouled by the thimbles, and we took up the slack with
the
windlass. Once the tension was off, it was a simple matter to slip off
the
temporary mooring's pendants, and we were free.

However, the direction of the wind was such that we were likely to swing
(on
this very long line) into another of the mooring bouys very closely spaced
here. So, while Lydia controlled the windlass, taking up the just-slack
line I maintained by controlling our speed, I steered us clear of the
other
buoys. We were soon snug to the new mooring, and I once again got back in
the dinghy, making sure there were no fouls in the pendants, and handed
them
up for Lydia to install.

Once those were in place, we removed the safety line from the windlass and
cleated it off in the still-howling wind. By this time, however, the rain
had stopped, albeit totally cloudy, and we set about to clean up. Lines
stowed, gashes washed out with hydrogen peroxide and bandaged, we "sat a
spell" - as they say in the south - enjoying our coffee and somewhat
delayed
breakfast!

A day later, the sun came out, so I got in the dinghy and bailed the bulk
of
it out. Normally, I'd just run the dinghy fast enough that it would run
out
the drain hole in the transom, but the harbor has a 3mph speed limit, so
the
last of it would have to wait for later. At the same time, the wind died
(to mid-high teens) sufficiently to allow returning the KISS to its free
postion, and we once again were enjoying our free 15-30A (currently 10
knots, 7A wind, and 25A solar). With the passage of that front, it's now
cooler, too, but still a lovely upper-70s, very dry air. Ahhh...

So, all is well in the Bahamas. I think it likely that the
adrenaline-enhancing excitement might be finished for a while. Those
interested will still be able to see our route into Hopetown on
tinyurl.com/flyingpigspot for another couple of days, and, as we move on
in
a few days, those travels as well.

So, until next time, Stay Tuned!

L8R

Skip


The usual sad comedy of errors! Don't you EVER learn from your mistakes?
That girl Sunderland got knocked down and dismasted, ending the
circumnavigation attempt because she was below during a gale and huge
following seas trying to get her balky engine started. She could have died
but she was lucky that the knockdown only dismasted her boat. She is no
sailor because she was fooling around with extraneous systems (trying to get
the motor started, to charge the batteries so she could charge her cell
phone so she could yak on the phone to her parents - all during a gale when
she should have been keeping a watch and steering.)

And what does Skippy do? He's down below fooling with this electrical
connections to his wind generator and doesn't pay the least bit of attention
to a bum mooring chafing through and carrying away. Pathetic, Skippy,
pathetic. You should have dived on the mooring and checked its integrity and
not just blindly trusted it. I've been there, the water's fine. No excuses!

For a while there I thought I detected you making some progress toward
professionalism. Lately, however, I see the same old amateurism and lack of
attention to the job at hand rearing its ugly head. You need to get your
priorities straight.



Wilbur Hubbard

"Wilbur Hubbard" wrote in message
anews.com...
I hope that's a typo, Skippy. Sustained winds of 240mph would be what? a
category 10? lol http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Floyd#Bahamas

Maybe you meant 240kph????



Wilbur Hubbard


Could be. I was repeating the information of my source in Hopetown, over
which the eye passed. I thought it impossible, but he assured me that's
what happened.

In any case, I'm glad I wasn't here!

L8R

Skip


--
Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery!
Follow us at http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog and/or
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog

"Believe me, my young friend, there is *nothing*-absolutely nothing-half so
much worth doing as simply messing, messing-about-in-boats; messing about in
boats-or *with* boats.
In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's
the charm of it.
Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your
destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get
anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in
particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and
you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."

"Wilbur Hubbard" wrote in message
anews.com...
And what does Skippy do? He's down below fooling with this electrical
connections to his wind generator and doesn't pay the least bit of
attention to a bum mooring chafing through and carrying away. Pathetic,
Skippy, pathetic. You should have dived on the mooring and checked its
integrity and not just blindly trusted it. I've been there, the water's
fine. No excuses!

For a while there I thought I detected you making some progress toward
professionalism. Lately, however, I see the same old amateurism and lack
of attention to the job at hand rearing its ugly head. You need to get
your priorities straight.



Wilbur Hubbard

Wilbur, you're starting to sound like Boob. On top of that, relative to
another thread, rude and inconsiderate would include not clipping at least a
substantial portion of my usual longwindedness so as to make those hanging
on your every word not have to wait so long.

My wind generator troubleshooting was during a calm period, literally no
wind. It's a lot safer to handle exposed electrical ends without the blade
going around, ya know.

The mooring didn't fail at the bottom - it was the pendant's end.

**** happens. Those that never have seen it aren't out there doing it...

L8R

Skip


--
Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery !
Follow us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog
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The Society for the Preservation of Tithesis commends your ebriated
and scrutible use of delible and defatigable, which are gainly, sipid
and couth. We are gruntled and consolate that you have the ertia and
eptitude to choose such putably pensible tithesis, which we parage.

Stamp out Sesquipedalianism

On Thu, 7 Oct 2010 15:17:58 -0400, "Wilbur Hubbard"
wrote:

For a while there I thought I detected you making some progress toward
professionalism. Lately, however, I see the same old amateurism and lack of
attention to the job at hand rearing its ugly head. You need to get your
priorities straight.

Unfortunately there is some truth here. You seem to have way too
many issues with that engine. If you don't get to the bottom of the
root cause(s) and correct them, it will cost you the boat sooner or
later.

*Ooops!

Good news, that's a simple fix,
I might have a failing bearing. *Ooops!

No biggie - if one fails completely,

I was to go on the air my display (apparently - see
below) died. *Ooops!

The first immediate solution was to turn on the engine. *Crankety crank, but
no fire. *We continued toward the wall. *Ooops!

discovered even later. *Ooops!

Now that our forward motion was stopped, we came to rest against a piling on
the dock adjacent to a home for sale.
to finish would mean we were also aground!

read more »



Skip
Thank you for sharing this with us. You area obviously a recreational
sailor with a great wealth of experinces!
Thank you...

Bob

Unfortunately there is some truth here. * You seem to have way too
many issues with that engine. * If you don't get to the bottom of the
root cause(s) and correct them, it will cost you the boat sooner or
later.

Agreed Mr. Wayne:
But I think the pattern that emerged over the last several years
pretty well forecasts a predictable future..............
Type Fuss type fret tinker OOPS! type tinker fuss fret OOPS! Type
Fuss type fret tinker type tinker OOPS!
bob

That's a really good tale. It is instructive. Statistically, most disasters are due to multiple failures. I believe you were very
lucky. You suffered multiple failures and saved the boat. You may not be so lucky next time. Please consider having a serious,
large contingency battery that is NOT connected to anything in a standby state for situations like this......it's cheap insurance.

I use a compressed air starter on my diesel and carry 2, 100 liter tanks of which one is always full and not normally connected
for just this reason. A freind years ago, lost his 60' ketch off Okinawa due to this identical fault. He also used an electric
starter, but when he needed the engine, bilge water had shorted it out and he lost the boat on a corral reef. I use air now, my
engine will snorkle.
Steve

On Mon, 11 Oct 2010 10:38:30 +0200, "Steve Lusardi"
wrote:

That's a really good tale. It is instructive. Statistically, most disasters are due to multiple failures. I believe you were very
lucky. You suffered multiple failures and saved the boat. You may not be so lucky next time. Please consider having a serious,
large contingency battery that is NOT connected to anything in a standby state for situations like this......it's cheap insurance.

I use a compressed air starter on my diesel and carry 2, 100 liter tanks of which one is always full and not normally connected
for just this reason. A freind years ago, lost his 60' ketch off Okinawa due to this identical fault. He also used an electric
starter, but when he needed the engine, bilge water had shorted it out and he lost the boat on a corral reef. I use air now, my
engine will snorkle.
Steve


We used these in a lot of projects - heavy earth moving equipment and
oil field patch installations and they are a pain when the air
pressure gets low.

The ultimate would be the Russian heavy equipment engines I worked on
in Indonesia. they had three starting systems - electric, manual
(crank up a flywheel) and auxiliary one cylinder engine.

Cheers,

Bruce
(bruceinbangkokatgmaildotcom)