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28th
October 2010 I've been back in the US for a while, but in broad summary what happened was .. I departed
Tarpon Springs on Popeye at 1100 on 27th April, as planned and sailed direct to Colon, Panama. It was a horrid trip.
The wind in the Yucatan Strait was 40 - 45 kts on the nose (of course) so that with a 2 kt adverse current, progress was extremely
slow. The log entry for one day reads "Miserable". Damage was limited to an exploding block and the
autopilot dying utterly dead after 13 days. For the remaining 5 days I would hand steer for 6 or 8 hours and then heave-to
for a couple of hours sleep. Popeye heaves-to beautifully and being single handed I would simply power across to the
other tack when I wanted to get going again. I arrived in Colon around noon on the 15th May and was very happy to be tied
up in my slip in the Shelter Bay Marina there. My Panama Canal Agent contact, Hensley handled the formalities of a Canal transit
while I worked on the autopilot. It took a couple of days to get things dismantled and to find a broken fuse. No fun in the heat, working down below. Hensley managed to find replacement
fuses and by the 20th things were back together and the autopilot (ostensibly) working. Transit commenced on Saturday
22nd, and following the overnight stay in Gatum Lake I entered the Pacific about 1400 the next day. After dropping off
the line handlers and Canal Authority Advisor, I set the autopilot while I tidied up and hoisted sail. The autopilot
immediately went insane, working lock to lock on the wheel and sometimes just freezing up. What to do? There was a good anchorage just off to port, but
I was scared that if I went in there I might never get going again. So I continued on, hand steering to start with,
and then, being on the wind, I managed to rig bungee cord and Popeye would self-steer very well, provided we were close hauled.
I dismantled the autopilot again, in moderate conditions, and found one fuse was slightly undersized, and while it had snapped
into place, it was just jiggling around in the slot underneath the jaws. I surmised that this was the cause of the insanity,
squeezed the fuse holder tighter, reinserted the fuse, now tight, and reassembled things. But what if it didn't work and
I had misdiagnosed things? The prudent course was to test it and then if it did not work, return to Panama. But
I felt mentally committed (perhaps I should have been) and resolved to continue, and not try and use the autopilot until at
least one full day downwind in the Trades. At that point, if it did not work, I would really be committed, and have
no choice but to continue on downwind. There would be no going back. I worked my way South, but kept coming up against the South American coast,
with the lights of some Equadorian town or other clearly visible one evening. In the end I decided to take my Westing
and tacked across. I was unable to weather the Galapagos islands and ended up sailing through the North end of them.
The wind was light, the current mostly adverse and the weather cold and damp. It took a long time to obtain Southing
and finally meet the Trades. With great trepidation I turned Popeye over to the autopilot (whose name I found out later
was Janis Darling - she told me one evening) and she performed flawlessly thereafter. I won the gamble, but might not
have. It was a bet bordering on the foolish. The Trades were very stong for the first few weeks, averaging 30 - 35 kts over the deck, and given
my speed at around 6 kts, this was unusually brisk. I was mostly on the port tack. The first time I had to gybe over to the starboard tack in these
winds, it was somewhat of an adventure. I think it took close to 2 hours to complete and have things snugged away.
I'd slack off a line from the cockpit, move forward to do the next task and find I'd slackened it too far (or not quite enough)
and then have to return to the cockpit to make a further adjustment. I'd promised Diane that when gybing or working
with the pole, which usually required both hands, I would wear the safety harness. I know everyone says you ought to
wear it, but I found it an incredible impediment to getting anything done. Moving for'd or aft took forever, even with
the jack stays, and more than once I was brought up short, painfully, when the tether got between my legs and I tried to move.
I would not wear one again, the chance of falling or being unable to get somewhere quickly, I see as overriding the marginal
safety aspect when single-handing. In high winds, and on your own, each move has to be thought out in advance but towards the end of the trip I was
becoming quite slick, and had the time down to about 30 minutes. I did not gybe on a whim, however, and had to be forced
to it after waiting, sometime for days, to see if the wind would back or veer as the case might be to allow me to keep the
desired course without having to do anything. It of course seldom worked out that way, with the wind making the desired
change just after I'd made the gybe, somtimes requiring me to gybe back shortly thereafter. That's life on the big ocean. About half way to the Marquesas from Galapagos
a sooty tern came on board. I came on deck one morning to find him staring back at me from a distance of a foot or so
through the hard dodger. During the day he moved around from time to time and ended up in a protected location on deck
on the starboard side. He stayed for over a week. I could pat him, and he would take fresh water from me but refused
all food. I expected him to die, as had been the case with other birds in the past. One morning he was there at
1000 but was gone at 1100. When I plotted my position at noon, I realized that he had flown away at almost exactly my
point of closest approach to the Marquesa Islands. There is no doubt in my mind that he had hitched a ride most of the
way home. Things settled
into pretty much a routine after that, as you would expect. I'll skip forward to the approach to the Australian coast
and go back later to check the log and see if there was anything of note that happened in between. By this time I was picking up the excellent Australian forecasts (they really are very good) and
found myself beating (of course) against a series of SW fronts moving through. It was Winter, after all. So I
kind of worked back and forth up and down the coast, slowly closing. A front was approaching and with it a strong
wind warning. The barometer dropped 7mb in about as many hours and I ended up in what I think was one of those secondary
lows that formed on the front. Down to 1006mb with torrential rain, heaps of lightning and a steady 45-50kts for an
hour with gusts to 55kts. I had the main triple reefed and the working jib up, as prudence dictated, given the
warnings, but the problem with single-handing in heavy conditions is that you can either hand steer (too much for the autopilot)
or you can shorten sail, but not both. In some of the gusts I had green water coming into the cockpit over the coaming,
and for a centre cockpit boat, that was an impressive angle of heel. Becalmed all the next night and in the end gave up when 60 miles out and started
to motor in. Despite the lack of wind, and the high barometer, " I'm surrounded by black squalls - it looks more
like the Doldrums than the Doldrums." The wind rose a bit from the NW and I motor-sailed W off the N end of
Moreton Island to intersect the main ship channel. I figured on 10 minutes sleep before I'd need to check things again
and had just put my head down when the motor surged, and then stopped dead. No rough
running, just died. Quite nervous making - diesels just don't do that. I went on deck and cranked it for a while
as sort of a reflex action and then opened up the engine compartment to take a look. Everything seemed all right.
While it had to be fuel, still I checked the engine temperature (fine), that there was adequate coolant (there was),
and that when I cranked I got oil pressure (I did). So now it has to be fuel. I put on my headlamp and descended
into the engine room and changed the Racor over to the back up filter. Cranking didn't work so I cracked the bleed valve
and started pumping to purge this second filter of air. After about ten zillion pumps, I was still getting air, and
blisters, so sat back to think. At this time the concept of "fly the aircraft" struck, and I checked that
she was jogging along all right close reaching WSW under mainsail alone and there was nothing in front of me for a while.
The next thought was that I'd flatten the batteries if I were not careful as I kept trying to start her, and so shifted my
attention to the generator to make sure I'd be able to keep the batteries up. Then it dawned on me that the genset got
its fuel from the same Racor as the main engine. So if it started and ran, I had a fuel problem on the engine itself,
and if it did not then it was the feed to the engine that was the issue. The generator started, ran for 30 seconds (the
pitter-patter you hear is my heart) and then stopped. Hooray - it's the Racor then. At this point the subconcious
thought started to appear that it might be rather fun to try and sail up the Brisbane River. Stupid idea but it kept
lurking there all the while. Down
into the engine room again and I was able to remove the filter that had been in use by hand, but I couldn't get the base off
it for love nor money. Back down below to find the filter wrench under the starboard setee and try again.
No go. So back down below again to find the rubber strap filter wrench to use on the plastic filter base. Success.
I had drained the base the day before and there was no water or sludge in it to speak of. Rummage around and retrieve
a replacement Racor filter and reattach the base. Fortunately I had written instructions for myself on the filter change
procedure which was a very good thing in the circumstances, to be able to just follow along the check list. Remember
that all the while Popeye is on the wind into about 20kts at this stage with more N in it so she is starting to move
around quite a bit, making things more difficult. Now I have to fill the new filter with diesel fuel. There
is a 5 gallon jug in the aft locker. Down to the aft cabin to unlock the hatch and then the thought that I didn't want
to carry the new filter aft, with dropping it overboard a real prospect, so I needed a container. Into the rubbish and
retrieve an empty coffee jar. I washed it out, dried it, and then, with care went aft and filled it from the jug, and
returned to the cockpit, carefully, since the engine room hatch was up. I then filled the filter from the coffee jar,
managing to spill a lot into the bilge, and then reattached it with about a centimeter of air in the top.
I bled it (ten zillion more primer pumps), but this time I got clear fuel in the end for my efforts. Crank the
engine. Nothing. Hmmm.. Back to the notes and I then went to the engine driven fuel pump and bled it.
That took about 20 zillion primer strokes this time before I got clear fuel. Crank the engine. Nothing. At this point I had come to the end of my notes
so resorted to the engine manual, in which I found words to the effect of "if you are really up shit creek you could
try bleeding the high pressure lines." So I did. I could crack two of the unions easily (once you find the
right size spanner that is), another with difficulty, but the fourth was bloody impossible to access. The book then
said to crank until you get clear fuel from the feed lines. I couldn't see what was happening from the helm, and so
just cranked for about 30 seconds assuming I'd get clear fuel. I then leaped down and tightened the three open unions
and mopped up as much of the diesel that covered the top of the engine as I could. I cranked the engine and she
fired first time and ran flawlessly thereafter. I assume that the old Racor filter had collapsed. There was no visible sludge, it had only run
a few hours since being fitted, and the engine was run every week for an hour or so. I then reconditioned the somewhat messy boat, changed course for the fairway
bouey, and decided I was not going to get any sleep that night. The oil filter went over the side, and I pumped the
bilge, hoping the absorbent sock at the bottom had trapped anything nasty. I've never understood why people get bent
out of shape by a little diesel on the water: it evaporates in a few hours and leaves nothing behind. This little adventure took 2 hours, start to finish. This is the long version, for which I apologize,
but apart from the auto-pilot in Panama it was the only real maintenance issue I had. To be continued .... 26th April 2010 This should be the last update for at least
4 months. I have cleared Customs and moved clothing and music on board. The forecast is for strongish winds from
a not-very-goodish direction, but they are meant to veer and moderate later tomorrow, so I'll go out and see what I get.
It is never perfect. Hopefully the Spot tracking system will continue showing my progress. See ya.
21st April 2010 I'm getting there. Graham replaced
the wet exhaust for me, for which I am very grateful. The engine end of the hose was splitting. Engine and
generator test run. Gas bottles filled and stowed. Water and diesel tanks filled, and the extra containers filled
and stowed. More engine spares purchased. Iridium satellite phone purchased at amazing expense - I"m still
reading the manual. Multiple cheap pairs of sunglasses purchased. The present forecast weather, tide and availability
of Customs (Monday through Friday) and validity of a clearance (48 hours) make a lunchtime Tuesday 27th departure likely.
14th April 2010 I went for a test sail last Sunday
with a friend (Graham Horne, who now owns our previous yacht "Nikki") and everything seemed to work as advertised.
I turned the Spot tracker on for a while, so hope that you didn't think I was on my way. After quite a pleasent day
stooging around and then waiting for the tide to rise to allow us back up the river, we were back at the dock shortly after
10pm. I have pumped the bottom of the fuel tank out but it looks better than expected and I will refuel tomorrow.
The batteries have been tested and declared OK for at least another couple of years. Fishing gear has been purchased,
more in hope than expectation. I'm still on track for a 25th or 26th April departure. Hopefully I will get a chance
to do an update before departure.
1st April 2010 The life raft has been
purchased and stowed. The overhead has been glued back up where it was sagging. The second hatch has been refitted
after refurbishment. Solar panel fitted. Autopilot gearbox oil drained - old and discoloured but no metal in it
at all. I'm currently refilling the gearbox (using plastic tubing by mouth, and yes, I have swallowed some of the oil
in the process) and tidying up the electrics behind the chart table panel. Main engine impellor replaced, though the
old one looked good. I have yet to buy the weevil prone food items such as oatmeal, but that and some canned fruit is
all that there remains to get. I hope to go for a test sail early next week, depending on tides.
8th March 2010 I have ordered the life
raft and started to disassemble the autopilot to get at the plugs to change the oil in its gearbox. More food purchased
and stowed. I'm tidying up the interior, which is a good thing.
3rd March 2010 Still on track and now estimating
departure on or about 23rd April depending on weather and tides. I'm starting to stow food on board. The generator
has been repaired and works well. I am having a solar panel added on the starboard quarter which will make five ways
of charging. Main engine, generator, propellor generator (only good over 6 kts), wind generator (doing a great job at
the moment) and the solar panel. The batteries are being evaluated at the moment for replacement. I'm currently
repairing the overhead liner that has detached in a number of places - a known issue with the older Amels. I am sure
that there are many things I have forgotten (despite the required checklists) and it will be a rush at the end. It always
is. Hopefully I'll be able to go for a test sail next week.
9th February 2010
I have recreated the link to Spot tracking under the heading "Popeye's Position". This is a bit premature,
but one less thing to have to do later. The generator water pump has seized and will need to be replaced. The
wiring for the wind instruments and radar has been reconnected. The mainsail has been bent to the boom. A new
sail is like plywood to deal with. A
quick update. Things are still on track. The rigging has been tensioned, including the triatic which
only took two trips up the mast to reattach. All running rigging has been installed and terminated and untangled.
The mizzen sail and cover are on and the aft hatch is off for reconditioning in Connecticut. The storm job and mizzen
stays'l have been hoisted, checked and the sheets tested for alignment. The operation of the roller furling gear has
been tested prior to attaching the jib to it. The stove has been removed and cleaned, along with the area around and
under where it was. The 406 EPIRB has been purchased and registered. Spinnaker pole lubricated and reattached
to the mast. Spare anchor chain stowed. The weather has not been cooperating so things have not advanced as quickly
as I would have liked.
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