After the Admiral’s visit, both Tess and I spent a week or
so back in New Hampshire for some housekeeping; both work related and personal
planning. Then back to Baltimore on
September 29 for another charter cruise.
This one with Charlie and his buddies Jeremy (from Minneapolis)
and Stefanos (from D.C.). A great
weekend of weather promised an Admiral’s Cruise Redux. But, being young professionals (rather than,
______; well, you can fill that in), this crew was sensible, if not
serious. Two arrivals on Thursday night
via BWI and an early Friday morning train from Penn Station, allowed the crew
to shove off by 10ish and hit the Bay.
While some attempt at sailing failed at the Key Bridge, we had a
pleasant motor sail into Annapolis in time to pick up a mooring (all of which
were to be removed or obliterated on Sunday morning to accommodate the set up
of the Annapolis Boat Show. Cruiser’s
Tip: The City Moorings marked “Keep
Off” are actually reserved for boats over 46 feet. An Island Packet 45, with dinghy on davits,
certainly measures 50 feet, so we grabbed a Keep Off Mooring since they were
the only ones available.
Our first stop was our newest “Best Place”; McGarvey’s Back
Bar for raw oysters and clams. While the
youngsters couldn’t go mollusk-for-mollusk with the Admiral, they made a
credible dent in the Chesapeake shellfish inventory. Even the Minnesotan slurped some down.
A 2 and 2 dinner at The Federal House and then back to the
boat for liquor, cigars and listening to young up-and-comers talk about work,
work, work, iOS 7, work, more money please, and missing their young wives. Generations come and go, but nothing seems to
change.
A rather late morning start (I could hear from my training
as a compassionate father: “If you don’t let those boys get some rest…” from
0600 to 0900). Needless to say, I let
them rest. As the day progressed, that
turned out to be prescient. They would
need it.
Being Annapolis, where everyone is watching, the sails were
up immediately and we sailed out of the Harbor and into the Bay. With Stephanos on the helm, Jeremy manning
the lazy sheet and Charlie and I giving contradicting instructions, we somehow
managed (after a mere 6? 10? 20? 100? tacks) to make it under the Bay
Bridge. At that point, knowing the most
damaging structure in all of Chesapeake Bay was behind us, I went down for my
nap with firm instructions to the Sailing Master: “Either get us back to
Baltimore, or get us to an anchorage before nightfall”. Under the tutelage of this Wind Whisperer,
the crew took their turns at the wheel, on the sheets and in their bunks until
our not untimely arrival back in Baltimore.
The Crew. Back in Baltimore.
Having been forewarned of our arrival, Tess had planned and
prepared a sumptuous welcome home feast at the end of the dock for sunset. Joined by Katie & Kyle, we had a nice end
to two great days of being on the Bay.
Stephanos, off to the train for a much anticipated return to his
beloved, was foiled by the fact that Mussolini does not run the MARC
trains. He came back to the boat to
enjoy a two-plus hour delay in his travel plans.
Ahhh…., since those halcyon days, life aboard ENDURANCE have
been filled with nothing but work. Apart
for real work, boat work had initially focused on tracking down that elusive
water seepage. The water pump coming on,
or trying to, at odd times. The
mysterious appearance of water in the bilge each morning. Living on the water is great. Tracking down the source of water internal to
the place you live; not so good.
In a process that started in Maine, continued with Paul
Casey’s years of sleuthing out boat problems and Charlie’s professional
expertise aboard yachts of many descriptions (most better described than our
own), I was certain that I was narrowing down the problem. “It’s the water pump!”, I exclaimed one
morning. Aided and abetted by a
waterlogged Accumulator Tank.
The Old Accumulator Tank. A bit rusty; inside and out.
The space to be filled.
The one
gallon tank, to be replaced by one twice the size, I ordered. Matching the water pump, not possible. Convinced after talking to many vendors that
I could fix the errant pump, I took it apart, cleaned out the debris and
reinstalled it. It ran. It ran.
And it ran. It did not pump
water.
Never to Pump again.
Rather than go without (water,
that is), I broke down, purchased and installed the West Marine, Always
Available, Loud As A Jet Plane Water Pump, Model # We Know You Are Desperate At
This Point. It was loud. “I’ll replace it when the Accumulator Tank
comes in”, I said.
Two days later, Tess is off to Chicago for the weekend
(Jake’s Navy Training Graduation), and I have my Accumulator Tank. Oh. I
forgot to mention. After the Admiral’s
visit, I made that quick return to New Hampshire. Not previously planned. Not well thought through. As I’m leaving the boat to head to my 9:50 PM
flight, I sit at the electrical panel and think, “What do I need to keep
on? Surely, just the Refrigerator”. All other switches off. Good power management? No.
No. Really no. Without thinking things through, it seems I
also turned off the Shore Power. That
means that the Refrigerator was running only on the House Batteries for over a
week. Not really though. Sometime during this period, there were no
more House Batteries. Fully
discharged. Kaput. Uh, oh.
It doesn’t take an expert to know that when you have a dead
battery (or two), you recharge it.
That’s what I did. Wow! The Charger is pumping in over 100 Amps into
a 240 Amp Hour Battery. This will take
no time at all. A couple hours later,
the Charger stops. What? I fear that I have blown both the Batteries
and the Charger. The next morning, some
useful dockside advice: “Read the Manual”.
I did. It says that the Thermal
Fuse in the Charger caused its shutdown.
Too many amps. The Batteries get
to hot. The Charger shuts off. I gain access to the Charger. Hit the Reset Button. Back in business. Charlie’s Cruise to Annapolis goes off
without a hitch. On our return, Tess
notes that a storage locker next to the Battery Locker is really hot. So, it seems, are the Batteries. Busy for several days thereafter, just before
Tess’ departure to Chicago, I get out another manual. On the Batteries, this time. Have you ever heard of Thermal Runaway? The next sentence in the manual says
something about Explosions. And then,
just, “Run Away!”
It seems that if you try to recharge a fully discharged
battery with more than 50 Amps, you will likely warp the plates in these AGM
Batteries. They will short out. The remaining cells, if any, will still take
a charge. All of it. And overheat.
At a certain yet to be determined temperature, even these AGM High Tech
Batteries will dry out. Then, merely
explode. Again, dockside discussion
recalls the Swiss boat he saw in Gibraltar.
No foredeck. Batteries had
exploded.
The decision is made to replace them today (the day that I
had planned to install my new Accumulator Tank).
Many calls were made.
These Batteries are expensive.
Few people keep them in stock.
Except… you guessed it. West
Marine, two stores over, has the two I need.
Twice as expensive. But, the cost
versus risk analysis was already done. I
put them on hold for an afternoon pick up.
Then a return call from Stevens Battery Warehouse in Pasadena,
Maryland. Joe says he can have exact
replacements on Tuesday. “Not good””, I
say. “Today’s the day.” Joe says, “Let me send a Tech over to assess
your problem”. “Okay”. Any advice is better than the voices in my
head. At 2:00, the Tech confirms. “You
fried them my friend”. And, “they are
not the high-priced, brand name Batteries you thought you had. They are the West Marine higher-priced
batteries that we sell (at half the cost) without the WM label”. By 6:00 my new friends have returned and
installed (at 128 pounds each) two new Batteries and a significant cost
savings.
In the meantime, I have
installed the Accumulator Tank.
Shiny new Accumulator Tank.
The new plumbing installation.
A busy day.
So all is well aboard?
Until 0400 the next day. The
water pump goes on. Okay, no big
deal. At 0420, the water pump goes on
again. This means we have lost two
gallons of water in twenty minutes. Uh,
oh. Again. Big deal.
There is clearly an extra two gallons of water in the
Bilge. I pump it out. I then, for the umpteenth time, since I have
already scrutinized every other source of water at least a million and
umpteenth times, open the access panel to the Hot Water Heater.
Did you guess it this time?
Let me give you a hint. Spraying
water. Lots of it. From the Hot Water Heater. The nylon hose fitting on the “hot” water
side, dried up, shrunken, and leaking.
Again. I replaced it in Deltaville,
Virginia in September 2010. Should have
learned then.
What an irritating pain in the neck you have been!
At 0800, when Ace Hardware
opened, I replaced it with a brass fitting. $4.89. Plus tax. No more leaks. So far. No more rampant water pump cycling. So far.
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