First thing Monday morning, I am into the Diginav workshop with bits of Rae Marine under my arm. She came apart gently in his knowing hands, and he pushed and prodded her drive mechanism. New belt needed, but none in stock. No charge for the consult. I have seen something like this belt in my periodic sifting through the new and old spare parts distributed in small hidy holes in and around my workshop on Django. With new understanding and hope, I am back aboard rummaging through the detritus. At the last possible place, there it is, a brand new drive belt. Rae Marine is restored and back in place behind the wheel in a trice.
We have a pile of laundry to do and some shopping before heading West toward Fort de France, or better, Pointe de Bout on the South side of the bay, a short ferry ride from the city. Both are a good 20 miles from here, so Tuesday is our preferred departure.
The day dawns wild and squally. I do like the anchorage here, solid and unyielding despite the heavy winds. We plan to drive into the fuel dock to top up with fuel and water. After preparing for sea and hauling anchor, our starboard engine beeps that she is too warm for comfort. This has been worrying me all season, she seems to run hot and I know what needs to be done. No way am I taking Django into the dock in 24 knots of wind and an engine we may have to shut down, so back we circle and drop anchor again.
I have not been looking forward to the job of replacing the impeller in the water pump. Its another of those things on my list to try sometime in this life, but not on the top. It involves sight unseen removal of the pump cover, view the impeller with a mirror, then, presuming it is the fault, removal and replacement of same and replacement of the cover by feel alone. I manage the first steps without two much pain, the impeller is damaged. Replacement goes well, then its get the pump cover lined up, with its gasket in place, and fit the screws on place. These are small, fine threaded screws. They refuse to be inserted. They will not thread into their holes.
I try a different tack. Managing to contort my aging frame to a head down position, wedged between engine and hull, I can see the #%@$% pump. But I can’t get back up to pick up screws or screwdriver. Alicia comes at my beck, and together we achieve the near impossible. I top up the oil while the engine covers are off.
We are ready to move into the dock and top up fuel and water, after which we motor out of the bay to anchor in the Mouillage de St. Anne, opposite the picturesque, internet free little town of the same name, wind howling in the rigging. Alicia wants to go ashore and explore; I am sticky and want a swim, besides which its nearly RP o’clock (not that we see much in the way of rum punch aboard Django these days). I am also nervous about the anchorage, not having tested the set for very long. So we will go in on the morrow. I swim.
A very strong squall screams down on us, white out of rain and shriek of wind. This is a good test and Django does not budge, nor do any of our neighbours. The night is loud and windy, my hatch closed from midnight on after getting very bored with opening and shutting it at each successive squall.
Alicia is carefully drawing her breakfast, then coloring it in with watercolor. Breakfast may take a while. No rush, we are cruising.
We have a pile of laundry to do and some shopping before heading West toward Fort de France, or better, Pointe de Bout on the South side of the bay, a short ferry ride from the city. Both are a good 20 miles from here, so Tuesday is our preferred departure.
The day dawns wild and squally. I do like the anchorage here, solid and unyielding despite the heavy winds. We plan to drive into the fuel dock to top up with fuel and water. After preparing for sea and hauling anchor, our starboard engine beeps that she is too warm for comfort. This has been worrying me all season, she seems to run hot and I know what needs to be done. No way am I taking Django into the dock in 24 knots of wind and an engine we may have to shut down, so back we circle and drop anchor again.
I have not been looking forward to the job of replacing the impeller in the water pump. Its another of those things on my list to try sometime in this life, but not on the top. It involves sight unseen removal of the pump cover, view the impeller with a mirror, then, presuming it is the fault, removal and replacement of same and replacement of the cover by feel alone. I manage the first steps without two much pain, the impeller is damaged. Replacement goes well, then its get the pump cover lined up, with its gasket in place, and fit the screws on place. These are small, fine threaded screws. They refuse to be inserted. They will not thread into their holes.
I try a different tack. Managing to contort my aging frame to a head down position, wedged between engine and hull, I can see the #%@$% pump. But I can’t get back up to pick up screws or screwdriver. Alicia comes at my beck, and together we achieve the near impossible. I top up the oil while the engine covers are off.
We are ready to move into the dock and top up fuel and water, after which we motor out of the bay to anchor in the Mouillage de St. Anne, opposite the picturesque, internet free little town of the same name, wind howling in the rigging. Alicia wants to go ashore and explore; I am sticky and want a swim, besides which its nearly RP o’clock (not that we see much in the way of rum punch aboard Django these days). I am also nervous about the anchorage, not having tested the set for very long. So we will go in on the morrow. I swim.
A very strong squall screams down on us, white out of rain and shriek of wind. This is a good test and Django does not budge, nor do any of our neighbours. The night is loud and windy, my hatch closed from midnight on after getting very bored with opening and shutting it at each successive squall.
Alicia is carefully drawing her breakfast, then coloring it in with watercolor. Breakfast may take a while. No rush, we are cruising.
What, no RPs????
ReplyDeleteone of sour, two of sweet
three of strong, four of weak
(and bitters, of course)
get with the program!