He is looking to replace it with something else.  An autopilot for this type
of vessel can be quite expensive.  Any ideas on utilizing the actuators
already in place and simply buying the ‘brains’ of a new one?  Another idea
I heard of was using the much more affordable wheel pilots…though this is
complicated by having two steering stations.

Have any of you encountered this type of situation or have any ideas that
might help?

Thanks!

Glenn.
s/v Seawing

Frogwatch

Well, NOAA has done us in, again. Here we are, anchored just shy
of our goal, again. And, another lovely dinner before a cold bed,
as "seasonal weather" has revisited the Chesapeake, and it’s
frost warnings, tonight (well, last night, from when you see
this).

When we left you, we were thinking of going to Cambridge, instead
of going for Solomons Island. We did, indeed make that choice,
and took a short ride to Cambridge. Before that, however, we had
to get up the anchors.

What a gooey mess the bottom was there in front of Schooner’s in
Oxford. No wonder we dragged the first time. There must have been
a foot of black, fine, mud on the Delta, and, of course, with as
much as we had out, the chain had lain on the bottom for quite a
while as well, therefore carrying up its own load of goo.
However, our second anchor was much the same story, and the way
our windlass is set up, required semi-hand raising its extra-long
chain and the 75# of anchor on the other end.

That one had set very hard, and not only was difficult to break
free, it brought up its own load of junk. Despite very careful
and aggressive hosing, both chains would prove to retain lots of
the mud, flaking off as it was deployed the next time. In any
case, we set sail about 12:30 for Cambridge. Oops.

Another fan belt failure. That one lasted all of a couple of
days. Quick, throw out the anchor in deep water, so put out lots
of chain, and dive into the engine room, yet again. However, I’m
getting pretty adept at this by now, and we’re under way again in
short order. Another lovely sail results, and we shortly pull up
to the entrance to Cambridge. Tom, another internet buddy, who
lives between Oxford and Cambridge, has filled me in on our means
of staying in town.

Cambridge is a lovely town, like all the rest we have been in
along the Chesapeake, and the seat of Dorchester County, MD.
Their municipal building fronts on the little bay off the
Choptank River, and alongside there are cleats, with signs saying
one should dock at their own risk, for up to 48 hours.

There were already a couple of trawlers and a sailboat there when
we arrived, but we had plenty of space to pull in ahead of the
sailboat. Lydia’s lassooing move on the cleat was a perfect shot,
and she snubbed that connection. I stern-walked in to allow her
to tie off the rest of the way.

It was an unusually high tide; Tom had been concerned for how
much water we would have alongside. However, we found it to be
quite deep, at least according to our depth finder, and we were
comfortable with being there. Tom was kind enough to give a ride
to a quickie shopping trip for prescriptions, groceries, the
hardware store and NAPA, for yet more fan belts (about 8 or 10, I
think, since we left Charleston). I need to buy stock in Gates!

Anyway, the following day we went on a walking tour, enjoying the
city immensely. I’ll let Lydia’s log fill in all the touristy
bits, but we had a lovely time and met the usual assortment of
animals and people. One, however, was a real hoot, having taken
more than 30 (down from 50) cats to the vet to be neutered, and
they all go on walks with him and his two dogs, said parade
coming by the municipal system each day we were there.

The next day we expected to go to Solomons Island, but the
weather was forecast (see above comment on NOAA, and see below
for more) at 20-25 knots with gusts to 30, and straight behind
us, along with relatively large waves, which would have been very
uncomfortable. So, we decided to stay in Cambridge for another
day. Of course, given NOAA’s track record so far (see below), it
might have been a fine day to sail south.

However, high tide in the morning was about 5AM, and not long
after I woke to find more than the usual list (we have a small
persistent port list). Hm. What’s that about?? We apparently had
parked on the locally famous "three foot hump" – the only place
on the wall which was so short, and apparently the source of
Tom’s concern – and we were – AGAIN – aground.

This time, though, I had no doubt that the rising tide later in
the day would get us off, as it was more than 1.5′ higher than
the early tide, and since we weren’t going to leave, anyway, if
was of little account. I went back to bed, and relaxed. However,
very quickly, we developed a notable list – eventually to reach
25 degrees. That made getting off the boat a bit challenging.
Fortunately, I have a great stride, and was able to make it off
and back on again after I slacked the lines so as to relieve the
pressure not only on our but the town’s cleats.

Eventually, as the boat continued to heel, enough of the bottom
was exposed to show that there was a small area that had
accumulated barnacles. That was irritating, in that it was all
very newly applied bottom paint, and there should have been no
barnacles whatsoever – and not much slime, either. The slime
wasn’t there – but there were certainly barnacles.

So, at low tide, I took a deck brush and crushed them, and then
scraped them and finally scrubbed them off. Thanks, Cambridge,
for making that possible! In the meantime, though, we’d attracted
quite a crowd, what with the very unusual attitude (they don’t
often see a mast at that angle!), and every time one dispersed,
another gathered. It’s how we learned of the "three foot hump" –
and all were very anxious to help in any way possible. It
probably sounded very brave for us to keep declining help, but
since we already had our shopping done, and our touring done, and
weren’t going to leave until the next day, there really wasn’t
much anyone could do!

So, instead we enjoyed the brilliantly sunny day and read our
books and scrubbed the bottom and otherwise behaved like
full-time cruisers. No agenda, no schedule, no itinerary!
Eventually, the tide did, in fact, come up, and we were off. The
trawler which had pulled in to tie up in front of us was
similarly aground, but they had about 8" less draft. They had
settled directly next to the seawall, and were adequately well
cushioned against abrasion – but I can tell you for sure I’m glad
we didn’t lean the other way! Standing up relatively vertically
is nicer, but it would have been a great deal of abrasion until
it stabilized. Anyway, our plan was to anchor out for the night,
as the next day would present much the same issue, but even lower
water as we migrated from the full moon.

However, our anchoring misadventures continued. After trying and
failing 4 or 5 times to get a secure set in the area in front of
where we had been, we opted to go for the now-open slip at the
other end of the wall, where we were assured it was much deeper.
However, when we were tied up, it looked much the same on our
depth finders as where we’d just left. The falling tide would
treat us just the same as last night, and as we did, now, want to
leave in the morning, that would be a distinct inconvenience!

However, nearby was a waterfront restaurant with a couple of
slips. Hm. Wonder what they do with them? A quickie ask got a
lovely offer of free space if we came to dinner. So, we quickly
put our almost-on-the-table dinner aside and berthed at the
restaurant. A lovely dinner followed, and it was the least
expensive meal out we’ve enjoyed since Lydia’s mom (our
benefactor) joined us. We were cautioned not to tie into the
shorepower, that being reserved for paying guests, but as to do
so would have required much digging in the lazarette to get to
the shorepower cord, and we were "full", it was of no issue
whatever. We did, though, take advantage of the water connection
to fill our leak-emptied tanks, in the gathering cold.

A late-night check of the most current forecast showed nearly
ideal conditions for our run down to Solomons Island. North to NE
10-15, moving to W in the evening/night hours, and diminishing.
We’d be either running or broad reaching, and enough wind that we
might use a poled-out genny and prevented main, or maybe even the
spinnaker, if it proved a bit lighter (on the 10 side). I
calculated that our trip should take about 5 hours, tops. Early
the next morning, the reports were the same. And, in fact,
throughout the day, as we listened in disbelief, they continued,
all the way to our anchorage.

What happened was that our way out, a very tight pinch, started
about 10:30, and was pretty much as advertised, other than the
wind being a bit light and also fluky. I attributed that to being
behind the land mass during our transit of the Choptank, and
expected it to pick up and solidify once we reached the bay.

Fat chance. It slowly died, to the point where, by the time we
reached the bay, there was nearly none. As the day wore on, the
waters flattened, and we were motoring at a pace which created a
slight headwind. Once again, NOAA comes through! If the forecast
had been similarly off (way low, in both sea state and wind) the
day before, it would have been a wonderful trip down in brilliant
sunlight. So, aside from the fact that we had to motor most of
it, and that we didn’t make the speed we’d anticipated, it was a
brilliant day, and toasty in the enclosure around the cockpit.

Oh, ya. So, also as has become our custom, around 4:30, Lydia
alerts me to nasty noise coming from the engine room. This time
we caught it before it fully disintegrated, but, once again, we
were in alternator belt failure mode. The belt had shed a section
of the top, and was inverted in the tracks. It would shortly fly
off if left alone, but we stopped the engine, and as you’ve seen
above, I had the new belt on in short order this time, too. This
one is a different type; with any luck it will hold up better
than our previous supposedly best-of-breed we’ve been using.
Nothing could be worse; if I don’t get satisfaction on these,
I’ll prolly just start using the cheapest I can find. But, I
digress. Our slight delay, combined with the insult of a weather
forecast as compared to reality, has caused us to
…

I was motoring along on the second day when I heard the engine hesitate just
for a moment.  I put the throttle up to full and, sure enough, the RPM’s
didn’t increase.  Moments later, the RPM’s started dropping steadily.  You
folks who said the failure would come on fast were right I thought to
myself.  I set sail and cleared some nearby ledges and then hove to for
filter replacement.

The sediment bowl and the fuel drained out of it into a clear soda bottle
were absolutely pristine.  I changed the primary filter and then pressed the
push button switch on the Stewart Warner fuel lift pump to bleed the system.
Nothing.  I opened up the primary fuel filter housing again to be sure there
was no back pressure to keep the pump turned off.  It wouldn’t come on.  I
figured I had a fuel pump failure. I also realized that a spare fuel pump
had slipped my mind.  I phoned ahead to the yard in Boothbay and sailed in
to find an automotive pump from NAPA waiting.

Before putting the new pump in, I checked the electrical connections to the
fuel pump.  Everything was solid.  I pressed the button and the pump
started!  There are two entirely separate electrical pathways to this pump,
one through the starter key switch and one through the direct wired
pushbutton for bleeding.  Neither made the pump run after I changed the
filter.

I started the engine and motored over to the marina to top off the half
empty tank.  On the way, I did the full power test and the engine wouldn’t
come up above cruise.  It also hesitated a couple of times.  After fueling,
I changed the secondary filter.  I run 2 micron elements in the primary so
it should have been OK and it looked very clean.  After changing it however,
the engine ran normally again.  It ran normally during all the hard slogging
and half a tank of fuel the next two days (see my Late Fall Cruise post).

What do you think was going on?  My guess is that the filters were both
clogged and the pressure cut off switch in the pump stuck after a long
period of working against the pressure.  Cooling, vibration, or someone
sneezing in China unstuck the switch.  The pump is now suspect and will be
replaced with another Steward Warner but you can bet that there will always
be a spare on board now.

I’m also suspicious about the little engine driven pump.  This fuel system
is on the borderline of needing the electric lift pump.  I wonder if maybe
the engine pump failed years ago and the electric was put into compensate.
Possibly the engine pump failed recently and the failure was masked by the
electric pump continuing to shove fuel through it.  This extra work also
could have been a factor in the temporary shut down of the electric.  I’ll
pull the engine pump after winterizing the engine and see what the story is
there.

These things are seldom as straightforward as they seem.

–
Roger Long

 So I’ve got this nice new aluminum propane tank, what I see is you
exchange the
 tanks, something I don’t want to do, I want my tank back, is this
normal request or am I
going to get a blank stare?
 I assume if I have to leave it they will give me a receipt and if I
get the "you don’t receipt",
I should just walk out?
 Is Suburban or Eastern propane ok?
 Does the tank have to be completely empty?

thx, Tom

  So does this mean the Rocna design is so lousy it takes twice the
weight to work properly?

  Gordon

Dear ASA Instructor,

I have some unfortunate news to share with you, but I wanted to do so
immediately upon learning about it so that you can plan accordingly.

This year, your 2008 membership invoice will arrive with some good news and
some bad news. The good news is that your instructor’s dues have been
reduced by $20.  The bad news is why:  ASA is no longer able to offer
personal liability insurance to its instructors.  Your current insurance
will remain in effect until December 31, 2007.

ASA’s insurance carrier cancelled our policy due to a large claim that is
pending payment.  The claim amount greatly exceeds the cumulative total of
premiums that the underwriter has received from ASA since we started our
policy.  I am sorry to report that the claim came about as a result of one
of your fellow, Southern California-based instructor’s lack of prudent
seamanship:  He de-masted a boat while teaching a class as he attempted to
pass under a bridge.  He later grounded the boat in an unrelated incident.
Although the ASA policy was designed to cover liability, not boat damage due
to carelessness, the instructor had an insurance background and was able to
do a workaround and bring the ASA policy into play.

We are attempting to find another carrier to reinstate your policy.  In the
meantime, I apologize for the loss of one of your key benefits.

Thank you for your understanding.  We will continue to work hard on your
behalf to improve your benefits.

Anybody know the Real Story? Why did she leak, and what did the Venerable
Doctor do to cure it?

druid
http://www.bcboatnet.org

http://www.rocna.com/press/press_0612_wm_ym_testing.pdf

It discusses a very thorough test of many different anchors in several
different conditions, in very controlled circumstances.  Significant
to our recent "discussions" :{)) they took core samples.  I think
you’d agree that those were markedly more informative than just taking
something off the top like the local clip joint :{))

Back to our conversation, though, do you bend on each anchor before
launch, or do you set one for the area you already know, and leave it
attached?  And, if like in the Chessie, what do you do when the bottom
conditions change repeatedly (the alluvial area was where we were
lots, but the last couple of hooks has been hard, and from what I
could see, the intervening ones were sand, e.g.)?  No, I’ve never been
clamming, not enjoying eraser bits of any sort in my meals, but I do
know what you mean about getting out of that stuff…

This article has me rethinking my anchor management.  Adding another
will be a storage challenge; only the fortress (which is knocked down,
in a bag, and fits nicely in the lazarette) and the danforths lend
themselves to stowage on the rail(s) – their currrent location(s).
However, when I lost my 65# CQR (see "Anchor’s Away" – a report of a
sea trial last year) and was considering what to do for the
replacement, the Rocna, not only very expensive but at the entire
extent of the USA apart, a very high shipping charge, as well, and the
Spade, with the 120 being really the appropriate one for the boat,
being even worse, I eventually went to a like, but heavier, CQR.

These tests are more impressive to me than the ones held by Practical
Sailor, and while I recognize the self-serving nature of the stuff at
the end, I can’t fault it.  Like Spade, I suspect that surface area is
far more important than weight in determining the effective holding of
any anchor, and so, the differing weights are not as important in
these tests.  However, the failure of some of the usually highly rated
anchors was significant to me…

Still thinking, but what the heck – it’s only money.  What to do with
one of the ones removed will be the challenge if I proceed…

L8R

Skip

Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig  KI4MPC
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 "You are never given a wish without also being given the power to
make it come true. You may have to work for it however."
(and)
"There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its
hands.  You seek problems because you need their gifts."
(Richard Bach, in The Reluctant Messiah)