Cambridge Cay - "Cruising Is." 4-8 to 4-9 2009

As we left you, we dinghy'd over to Seahawk to greet our friends on 
the sistership to Flying Pig. I'd mentioned that he'd bought an engine 
from someone I pointed him to, just as we were leaving the Chesapeake 
area over a year ago. He stripped all the usable parts from it, 
thinking he was going to rebuild his engine, and to get spares. 
However, as usually seems to happen in the world of cruising, 
particularly when you have 4 kids, as they do, reality intruded, and 
they left with the same engine they had.

As time went on, before they got too far, their engine showed signs of 
what might be a lingering death, but it might also have died at any 
time. Rather than risk having it give up the ghost somewhere remote, 
they pulled in and did the swap with a rebuilt. When you remove an 
engine from our boats, you have to pull all the significant hang-ons 
off in order to get it to fit the available openings on the way out. 
Knowing that, he'd removed all the usable parts from the other engine 
and sent them off for cleanup in anticipation of his rebuild.

His original intent had been only to get them glass-beaded (like 
sandblasting) to clean them up, but couldn't find anyone to do that. 
Fortunately, however, there was this powder-coating place, which would 
have to do the equivalent, anyway, for preparation. So, heat 
exchanger, oil cooler and filter housings, intake and exhaust 
manifolds, fuel delivery system, oil pan and valve cover and the like 
were all beautifully, hard-coated, brilliant in their "Perkins Blue" 
color. Having a rebuilt block, which the rebuilder also runs and tests 
before (then) painting, meant that when I looked into his engine room, 
the engine shone like a jewel. Compounding my jealousy, not only was 
the pan underneath the engine brilliant white, where he'd repainted 
it, there wasn't a drop of oil, nor even oil-absorbent pads. Color me 
extremely envious!

I suggested that we hurry and go snorkeling, as it was nearly low 
slack tide, and perfect for the couple of little islands right near 
us, and a beautiful trip up to the marine aquarium with the wind and 
the tide in the right direction for our return. They enthusiastically 
agree, and we decide to meet shortly for our trip. Louise had wanted 
to revisit the aquarium and Lydia the small islands to our south, our 
first visit being during a tide, making it difficult to get a full 
perspective of the scenery.

We did indeed go off snorkeling, but both Lydia and Louise took a 
pass, the weather being cloudy and not very warm. We got to visit the 
couple of little islands just south of us before the current started 
running, and headed north to the aquarium. With 4 kids in their 
dinghy, and nobody in mine, I offered to lighten their load. So, their 
oldest and youngest rode up with me to the aquarium.

When we arrived, it was thick with boats and snorkelers. However, as 
most of them had been there for some time, several left quickly, and 
there was plenty of room. I wore my weights (which reduce my buoyancy 
to nearly neutral) and did my usual underwater cruising which, between 
the prior dive, all the wind on the still-wet-wetsuit in the cloudy, 
no-sun, not-hot air on the way up, and this dive, I was well chilled 
by the time I got out. The current and the wind were with us on the 
return, however, so my chill wasn't exacerbated, and it was a short 
trip. Stripping out of my wetsuit and getting into sweats, sitting in 
the enclosed cockpit with a cup of coffee and the sun on me soon had 
me revived.

A short while later, my snorkeling buddies showed up for dinner. The 
Morgan 461 was designed originally for the charter trade, with up to 
11 sleeping quarters in 4 doubles (fore and aft cabins, plus two salon 
make-up doubles) and three singles (a sea berth in the salon, plus two 
in the "third stateroom," the walkthrough). So it was no particular 
surprise that we all ate comfortably in the salon. Lydia had baked 
earlier in the day, so we enjoyed a simple dinner of beans and rice 
with the accompaniment of fresh baked bread. We bade them farewell 
long after cruiser's midnight (8PM).

Wednesday dawned still and brilliant and Jeff came over; we got the 
pulley off my Sherwood (traded to him) with some effort, and onto his 
Jabsco, likewise with much effort, including breaking the first 
attachment bolt I used, on which more anon. I gave him intelligence on 
his trip south to Georgetown, with all the local places to see and do 
stuff, as well as where to find supplies. Earlier, taking advantage of 
the mirror-smooth water, I'd lifted the slack anchor chain carefully, 
unwinding it from a couple of rocks it had wound around, and Lydia and 
Louise (her mom) went off in the dinghy to attempt finding more of the 
lovely shells ruined in our last episode. As it's a pretty good 
distance in a dinghy, the calm water was welcomed.

When Lydia and Louise returned from their shelling trip, I'd not quite 
managed to get the pump installed, nor cleaned up, what with all the 
stuff all over the workbench. The extraction of the pulley from my 
traded pump, along with all the exertion needed to get it on his 
supplied pump, had taken longer than I'd anticipated. However, Lydia 
wanted to go over to the "meet and greet" island mentioned in a prior 
post, and get a couple buckets of the especially coarse sand for 
Portia's potty. So, I commenced to put the pump on, and, just before 
they arrived back at the boat, was just finishing up my cleanup.

As I was now certain that the water in my original pump had been 
coming from the weep slot designed to tell you when your seals are 
failing, I tried using the same hose attachment I'd used before. 
Imagine my dismay when it just RAN water, much worse than before, 
again from the weep slot. However, it had appeared to have come from 
the hose, the flow was so great, and I couldn't' believe that it was 
the pump, as it worked fine when he removed it from his engine he took 
out.

So, I went back to plan A and commenced with my "kludge" of a stepdown 
to accept a short piece of the properly sized (well, with some heating 
and lubrication!) hose from the clearly oversized one I'd had.

That went relatively simply, the heating and lubrication aside, and I 
remounted the pump for yet another time. No such luck, same results, 
with there being no doubt at this time that it was the pump, as there's 
no way the hose could possibly leak.

RAGGASNAGGAGIGGAFRATZ!!!

So, I again pulled off the pump, having a rebuild kit in the stuff 
Jeff had traded me, and resolved to rebuild it. However, it had gotten 
late enough by that time - nearly everyone else' midnight - that I 
decided to put it aside until the next morning.

Up again shortly after dawn, and just as I was finishing my first cup 
of coffee, Jeff hailed me on the VHF. "Speak of the devil," I said. 
"That doesn't sound good!" he said. I told him of the experiences, and 
he asked to come over to help me rebuild it, "to assuage his guilt," 
which I gratefully accepted.

On his way over, I dug into my spares, the two nearly useless Jabsco 
pumps I had, and took apart the worst of them, to see how they went 
together. By the time I had it apart, Jeff had arrived. Once we 
clearly saw how it went, reading the parts breakdown he'd printed off 
for me (I'd expected to rebuild my other pump which had leaked the 
first time, so he offered that from his computer library the previous 
day), we were confident to disassemble his traded pump.

All went relatively well, but as we were putting it together, I noted 
that the junker's bearing was in a different place than the one we 
were working on. Could it have moved? It certainly seemed so. Rooting 
around in all my tools produced the proper sized socket to fit over 
the shaft and we beat the bearing down to its proper seat. 
Reinstalling it was another challenge, as the bearing wouldn't QUITE 
go all the way into its seat. Another rooting around produced a 
properly sized chunk of pipe, and we finally got it seated fully.

Around this time it dawned on us that our whaling away on the pulley 
and shaft to get them to seat was what pushed the bearing up on the 
shaft. Without the bearing fully seated on the shaft, there was 
nothing for the seal to seat against. Thus, the totally useless seal, 
not broken nor worn out, but just, simply, not sealing!! So, 
unfortunately, we took out a probably perfectly good seal, but as we 
didn't do any visible damage, I put that back in the box in which the 
new ones had come, and put it with the spare impellers.

By this time it was dinnertime, and he went off, inviting us for 
sundowners after we'd both had our suppers. We'd originally expected 
to stay only a short time, but Jeff and Kami are marvelous hosts, with 
perfectly wonderful Sangria accompanied by freshly baked beer bread, 
and the evening wore on to, again, well past cruisers' midnight. So, 
instead of putting on the pump immediately when we got home, I again 
delayed until the next day. Jeff and Kami would be leaving first thing 
in the morning, for a straight trip to Georgetown, in order to get 
provisions, stock up on water, gas and diesel, and get to church on 
Easter, so we were all ready for bed. The installation of the pump 
would have to wait until morning.

As this is getting long, as usual, we'll leave you here, until next 
time.

Stay tuned!

L8R

Skip and crew







Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery !
Follow us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog
and/or http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog

"And then again, when you sit at the helm of your little ship on a 
clear
night, and gaze at the countless stars overhead, and realize that you 
are
quite alone on a wide, wide sea, it is apt to occur to you that in the
general scheme of things you are merely an insignificant speck on the
surface of the ocean; and are not nearly so important or as 
self-sufficient
as you thought you were.  Which is an exceedingly wholesome thought, 
and one
that may effect a permanent change in your deportment that will be 
greatly
appreciated by your friends."- James S. Pitkin

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