By Keith
Sometimes things don’t go as planned. That’s fact. And it’s a fact we’ve been learning in spades these last few weeks. In all, we’ve been “sailing” with no clear plan or ability to plan since October 4th. That’s 7 weeks of limbo by my reckoning, and I’m a man that likes a plan. Even if it’s a tentative plan, subject to change, I still like to have a set of parameters in life, a way to say “If not plan A, then plan B, if not plan B then plan C…”
But one thing that is clear is that we’re going to be a lot later in our southerly goals than we ever expected. Thanksgiving in Georgia? Hardly. Christmas in Sarasota? Maybe.
For nearly two weeks we’ve been docked in a slip in Charleston, South Carolina, waiting for appointments and surgery to repair – for the second time — the detached retina that’s been rather plaguing me since October 1st in Ocean City Maryland. Yesterday we finally received the news from the surgeon that everything in the eye looks good, the knitting has commenced, and we’re free to continue our travels. With a few caveats – when we’re ready.
But of course we haven’t been completely idle during this waiting time. We’ve been doing boat repairs! Remember that definition of “Cruising” I mentioned a while back? It goes “Cruising is fixing your boat in exotic places.”
Yeah that…
So our propeller came loose. Not all at once, and not to the extent that it, like, fell off, but still, it gives a whole new meaning to the term “having a screw loose”. That’s a big screw.
It became a fascinating process of elimination, actually, though I did have some other things on my mind while trying to figure it out. And it was an excellent example of how a string of seemingly unrelated events can all be tied together.
Way back in March of 2014 when we bought Sionna, I took the prop off while the boat was still stored in a shed, replaced some seals in the drive system to correct an oil leak, polished and painted the prop, and then put it all together again. At the time I had a hard time getting the prop to go on the shaft properly. Somehow the key that mates it to the shaft kept getting in the way, making it hard to slide the prop into place. Eventually I managed it though, with much pushing, grunting, and tentative tappings of a soft hammer.
Or so I thought.
Fast forward to August 18th, 2016. Nicki and I have just departed Rockland on this cruise, and just south of Owls Head in the Mussel Ridge Channel we snag a lobster pot line on the prop as we’re sailing by. The prop isn’t turning, so it doesn’t wrap around it, but Sionna – under full sail and only 150 feet from the rock piles of Maine – is suddenly dragging 200 pounds of lobster traps along the ocean floor – and being pulled down onto the rocks…
We can’t start the engine because there’s a line caught on the prop. We can’t drop the sails because they are the only thing keeping us off the rocks. We can’t free the line because the tension of the drag is keeping it well below the surface…
So we continue sailing – very slowly – and dragging that mess for over 500 feet, until we’re past the rocks and can head into the wind and drop sail. Now Nicki can reach down with the boat hook, snag the trap line and cut it (I’m sorry, Mr. Lobsterman, but we are saving our home here!) and free us from the trap. Whew!
But not the end of the story. Later that day the wind drops and we start the engine,and I’m immediately aware of a vibration that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, Nicki doesn’t detect it, but I know. Something’s changed.
Fast forward a couple months. Sionna has traveled over 1000 miles since Maine, and much of it has been motoring. That new vibration has stayed with us, but gotten no worse, until we pass the Shallotte inlet, in southeastern North Carolina. There we nearly run aground on a shoal created by Hurricane Matthew, and in the process of avoiding same, the engine is shifted into reverse rather more abruptly than one would prefer. The vibration changes…
The lubricating oil for the prop shaft starts to change color, turning dark, and when the engine is in gear I can feel a distinct vibration there, but I can’t isolate the source…
So here we were, stuck at the dock in warm Charleston, and I’m seeing divers working on various boats around the marina… …a lightbulb comes on.
The first diver looks her over and declares that he can’t see anything out of alignment, finds nothing obviously loose. Hmm…. I disassemble the drive train enough to isolate just the prop and its 24” shaft, and from inside the boat, turn the shaft – and hear a distinct “clunk” from the prop outside: “Aha!
Diver number two takes all of 5 seconds to confirm what I know. “Yup, your prop’s loose!” And we’ve lucked out in the diver department – this is the fellow who services all those fancy Sport-fisherman boats that we see out here, the ones that are driven by gung-ho but clueless boaters who run aground a lot and beat the tar out of their engines. Our diver knows a lot about keeping props on the boat.
So he hands me the propeller, and I spend an hour cleaning it off, sanding it smooth and re coating it with anti-fouling paint. Later that afternoon he comes back to reinstall it, and immediately says he’s found a problem. The key – which keeps the prop from spinning freely on the shaft – is too long, and is interfering with the nut what holds the whole thing together. Another “Aha! moment.
Remember earlier I mentioned I’d had trouble getting the prop to go back on the shaft because the key was interfering? Hmm…
Out comes the hacksaw, and in 2 minutes the key is 5/16”” shorter, the prop slides onto the shaft about ¼” farther than before, and the diver declares “That’s more like it!”
Is it really fixed? Well we’ll see. Certainly the test-run here – tied to the dock – reveals no vibration that I can detect, so that’s hopeful. We’ll know more after we’ve put a few more miles under the keel. Fingers crossed and with hope abounding, we’ll be departing Charleston on Saturday, most likely.
In closing I’ll leave you with the picture that Nicki took yesterday. I gather it’s my best side. Boat projects in exotic places? My sweet Aunt! But the surgeon did tell me to keep my face pointed down toward the floor…