So I know what you’re thinking:

Nate’s been sailing around, having a nice time, and hasn’t done anything truly idiotic in a bit.  There hasn’t been enough excitement. He’s not managed to hurt himself, or put himself in a really stupid situation.  He hasn’t lost any gear, or caused himself any unnecessary pain and trouble. 

Well, wait no more – I’ve got something for you.

I’ve seen it written that the difference between an ordeal and an adventure is attitude.  This story was definitely an ordeal, but today it seems more like a learning experience.  Not quite an adventure, but I’m getting there.

For Your Entertainment

Yesterday started out phenomenally.  I sailed, anchored, and put up my tent-shade-thing on the front of the catamaran so I could relax on the trampolines in the shade.  It was so nice that I fell asleep.  What a life, right?

Well, then I decided to go check a couple of spots to see if the fish were home.  First spot – the current was ripping so badly I had trouble getting back to the dinghy immediately after jumping in.  So I moved to spot # 2.

Spot # 2 looked promising.  Deeper water, patchy reef, clear enough.  So I dropped the dinghy anchor.  And it pulled.  So I moved a few feet and threw it into an area with a hard bottom.  Stuck!  So I began slowly getting my diving gear on – when I noticed the dinghy was moving into the swell, too close to where it was breaking.  So I pulled the anchor and went to a calmer spot for attempt # 3 at spot # 2.

Which is when everything went to Hell, very quickly.  I dropped the anchor, it stuck.  I waited around to see how the dinghy would pull, and whether it would head into the breaks again.  Looking good.  So I went back to getting my dive stuff together. As I was getting everything together, I noticed the current had switched, and the anchor rope had swung under the dinghy.  I looked up into a 7 foot wave breaking over me.  The dinghy capsized in slow motion, and I bailed to avoid getting hit by the engine/prop as it turned over.

When I came up all of my gear was gone, the only things visible were the oars, the gas tank, a bottle of freshwater, and my capsized dinghy.  Adrenaline had me – I was a long way from my boat, which was a long way from any other boat.  So I jumped up on the nearest reef, and manhandled the dinghy right-side up (no easy task in breaking surf, with a 10+ ft dinghy and 10 hp outboard).  Next up was grabbing the oars and getting the gas tank back inside.  I had about 8 inches of water in the dinghy.

I lost everything – my handheld GPS, my handheld VHF, a pair of carbon-fiber fins and pockets, a 130 railgun with a full reel of line, my favorite mask and snorkel.  An expensive mistake.  Painful too.   The old adage:  if you’re going to be dumb, you’ve gotta be tough came to mind

Naturally the outboard  wouldn’t crank, so I popped the cover and found the engine seized.  I monkeyed with it a bit, eventually getting it to turn over, but not enough to run.  During this time the dinghy had started to pull away from shore, noticeably.  I gave up on the engine, noting that I only had about an hour before it started getting dark.   Paddling a dinghy is tough by oneself, against the current – but I managed to get to shore.   I tried the engine a couple more times, but I didn’t want to run saltwater through it and do any permanent damage…

At this point I was over two miles away from my boat, with an island between us, and it was getting dark.  There wasn’t much choice – I had to pull the dinghy up as far onshore as I could, cover it (hoping the Kuna didn’t find it), and head back to the boat on foot (across the island).

As it was starting to get dark, I made it back within sight of S/V NOMAD.  But there was a solid 500 meters of water between us.  I was beat, but managed the swim.

 

Anchor Worrying

My adventure (ordeal?) wasn’t over quite yet though.  While I’d been out ruining things and losing gear, the wind had switched.  There wasn’t much room between NOMAD and the nearest reef anymore – and if I pulled anchor at all, I was going to be ontop of said reef.   So I raised the anchor, dropped it, and the anchor pulled.

So I raised the anchor, dropped again, and the anchor pulled again.

So I raised the anchor, looked around, and saw another catamaran anchored in a protected area only a mile or so away.  Full speed ahead, hoping to be able to enter the anchorage with a little sunlight left.   No dice on entering the anchorage with sunlight.  So I used the depth meter, the Panama Cruising Guide, and the other catamaran to guide me in.  Luckily I got it hooked the first try.   It was a tight spot though – with another catamaran close by, a reef on two sides, and an island on the other.   I set the anchor alarm, made a stiff drink for my nerves, and started dinner.

Sleep came pretty early, but was interrupted about 4AM by a terrific gale.  I’m becoming accustomed to the early warning signs (and becoming a very light sleeper).  The wind starts picking up, the catamaran starts to rock, and a few drops of rain make it through my hatch – enough to wake me up.  I did the “close all the hatches half-asleep” drill, consulted my anchor alarm, and settled into anchor watch.  I almost made coffee, but I was too tired to move.

Two hours later I’d blown around in a couple of circles but had held, and hadn’t bumped the other catamaran or the reef.  That’s a win in my book.

New Friends

 

Cruising bonds people.  I’ve found that it’s been strong, and very quick.

The next morning, I needed a lift to pick up my dinghy, otherwise I was going to have to row the kayak all the way around the island and back – dinghy in tow.  So I went over to my neighbors (the other catamaran in the lagoon).  I was hoping for English or Spanish speakers (my Spanish is now passable).  I got English.

There was a pretty huge age gap between us, and the gentleman onboard didn’t seem very happy about my request (fair enough).  But he obliged, and I was very thankful.   He warmed up shortly, we talked diving, fishing, and sailing.  Then he asked me if I’d like to help them get through the Panama Canal in a month or so.  YES, I would.  Nothing better than a little firsthand experience for something like that.

Long story short, we eventually found my stranded dinghy.  Then we towed it back.  Then I changed my gasoline (and lost 4 gallons), in case it had saltwater in it.  Then I flushed the engine with freshwater.  Then I couldn’t get the dinghy engine to crank, so my new friends suggested pulling the sparkplugs and spraying some WD-40 in there.  With that complete the dinghy started.

I went over to give them the last bottle of good wine I had onboard.  We talked about where we’d meet next, where they were headed, and both wished each other fair winds.   Now I’m settling in to eating a big crab dinner (a giant, right?).

 

Crab Dinner…

So there it is.  My latest act of stupidity that cost me a ton of money, caused some pain, and rattled my nerves.  It’s not all lollipops and rainbows out here, folks.  That said, the main picture on this post is my view right now.

For Your Entertainment

Sailing San Blas, Again

Sailing through San Blas, as captain, has been a blast.  I dig it.

The wind has been decent, the weather has been fantastic, and I haven’t put S/V NOMAD on the reef.  All positive things.    The only negative thing is that I’ve failed pretty miserably in the “bringing home dinner” department.

 San Blas, Again

The first day I sailed to Western Hollandes Caye, where I dropped anchor and hung out for a couple of days.  I got to try out the new kayak (awesome), do a bit of diving, and hung out the underwater LED light to see what came around.

The diving was decent, but not great.  I managed to get outside the reef and saw my first Black Grouper here in San Blas.  Great, but they are skittish here.  Moreso than in the Bahamas for sure.

At night the LED light would bring in huge tarpon.  At first I had no idea what they were – they were 5 + foot long, though.  Sharks?  Huge mackerel?  Cobia?  Eventually I got up the nerve to stick my head in the water (remember, it was night) and saw them.  Massive things, great fighters, but no good to eat.  If they would have been worth eating, I’d likely have jumped in and tried to put a spear in one.  I tried everything to catch them on (hook and line) light tackle, but they weren’t interested in anything but the baitfish under my light.

Eventually I headed to Eastern Hollandes Caye, where I anchored for a couple more days.  I had a little trouble finding a good spot to anchor without crowding the other yacht in the area.  I drug anchor once, and decided that he’d have to deal with a neighbor.

The fear of dragging anchor at night is horrible.  It keeps me awake sometimes and is always in the back of my mind.  It’s even worse when I’m diving alone and have the dinghy anchored somewhere.  If I lose that, I’m up shit creek for sure.  I’m getting bigger anchors and more chain.

Finally anchored I started exploring a bit – all around the Swimming Pool and Hot Tub, to most of the islands (except the aptly named Bug Island).  I found a couple of spots that I was sure would hold fish – but they didn’t.

Nonetheless I managed to spot a Hogfish in shallow water when I was kicking around.  He came back with me and was promptly scaled.  Not a giant, maybe 6 or so pounds.  But he’ll eat.  I absolutely love Hogfish, probably my favorite of the reef fish.  Good, white, flaky meat.  Great in ceviche, great panfried.  If I’d done better keeping my vegetables good I’d have made ceviche – but I screwed that up a bit.

I also found a Kuna family with a little pet monkey.  Cute thing, but I felt pretty bad for it.  No camera with me (I’m doing horrible with pictures right now, aren’t I?) so you’ll have to take my word for it.   By the end of it, I was having trouble prying the damn thing off of me so I could leave.

I got tired of Eastern Hollandes Caye pretty quickly.  Not much there.  Pretty anchorage, no doubt, but it was time to move on.

 Coco Time

The next stop was Coco Banderos.  Another group of islands that’s almost as far offshore as Hollandes Caye.  Sailing here was great, but getting into the anchorage and anchored wasn’t easy.  I had to squeeze between two other anchored yachts on my way in, then I couldn’t find a shallow spot to anchor.  I’m a 3X scope kinda guy, so dropping anchor in 10 meters of water means I need to let out at least 30 meters of chain.  And I found out that I only have about 40 meters of chain on my main anchor.  Meaning that I’m pushing it anchoring in 10 meters, preferring to be anchored in 5-7 meters.

So I pulled NOMAD almost up on the beach on one of the islands, dropped anchor and backed down on it.   And the anchor pulled.  So I picked it back up, circled around a bit and eventually found another spot in about 8 meters.  Good depth, and by the time I’d let out 3X scope – I was almost onshore of another island.  It’s a great view when I wake up, for sure.

My backyard…

But it’s also a little worrying to be that close to shore/coral.  The anchoring thing is still pretty stressful for me, I’m hoping that starts to go away as I get more salty. Fingers crossed.

 

Diving Coco

I’ve dove this area pretty hard now.  Hard enough that I’ve got serious blisters on both feet.  In three days I’ve seen two interesting fish – a 25 pound Mutton Snapper and a larger Black Grouper.  Both of which took leave before I had a chance to dive on them.  Skittish, really skittish.   I’ve also blown a couple shots on small Cero Mackerel too, so it’s partly my fault.  When they’re that skinny, it’s hard to hit them.

Yesterday I had a nice lobster lunch and went out to a spot much further offshore.  The rollers were coming in pretty high and breaking over the reef.  Not exactly the weather I needed to get into the deep water to make some proper dives, in search of proper fish.

After nearly running the dinghy aground on some coral, nearly flipping into the rollers, and definitely having a bit of a scare – my survival instincts got the better of me and I moved back inshore.  This is the kind of thing that I want a 12+ foot dinghy for (with a 25 hp Yamaha).  Unfortunately I can’t afford a boat big enough to put that kind of dinghy on, so this one will have to do.

Today I’m sailing back to Western Hollandes.  Thanks to a fellow diver/sailor/fisherman (Mark, thanks dude!) I have a couple of numbers to spots that ought to produce a dinner or two.  Which is going to be necessary after tomorrow – as I’m running out of protein onboard.

 

Sunset Over Coco

The protein lasted longer than the beer though, that’s for damn sure.   I have no idea how I’m going to store enough beer for the Pacific crossing…

Sailing San Blas, Again

Rewiring... Again

It’s been a little while since my last post.  I decided to take a break, do some sailing, dive a bit – and completely blow off the limited responsibilities I have (like posting here).  I’m better now, so here goes and thanks for bearing with me.  This post is actually being curated from a small group of islands in San Blas, so things worked out…

Best Laid Plans

I had Richard and his girlfriend come out to my catamaran.  The plan was to spend a ½ day sailing, to work out the inevitable kinks.  Afterall, I was taking off to San Blas in a couple of days and I hadn’t had the catamaran fully operational yet.

There’s always been some nagging deficiency…

I’ve always known planning things around boats and weather is tough.  Sometimes though, planning moves from tough to impossible.  The mechanic is chronically late, the internet access is intermittent, the weather changes hourly, and even the wind switches direction a couple of times a day.

So when Richard and his girlfriend arrived onboard, it really wasn’t a huge surprise when my port engine didn’t start.  I monkeyed with some connections – but then it was starting by itself, something I just fixed on my starboard engine.  Bummer.

I traced it back to the wiring harness (no surprise there).  So what had started as a day of sailing and trip preparation, quickly degraded into running new engine wiring for my port engine.

The good news is that I had enough wiring and connections onboard, and since the starboard wiring was fresh in my mind – I was able to do it myself.  Thankfully though my guests pitched in, and in a couple of hours we had the old wiring out and new wiring in.  By the time the mechanic arrived we were almost done.

It was late by the time I got my guests and the mechanic back onshore.  But I needed diesel and water, so I spent the next couple hours lugging big cans of heavy liquid.  Then a quick dip in the ocean and change of clothes put me back at the local cruiser bar/restaurant for some beer and dinner.

The idea that my catamaran might be fully functional was enough to allow me some sleep.

Out of Puerto Lindo, Finally

 

So the day came when I was heading to San Blas.  Kind of a maiden voyage really…  I was a little nervous.

For one I was getting a late start (long, uninteresting story), but also I was setting off into building seas.  They were 8-10 when I last looked, building to 12 footers.  I’m happy to report that a Lagoon 380 can, in fact, handle 12 foot (and higher) seas – even with a novice captain.  The wind, though, decided to blow right onto my nose.  I tacked a bit but I was wasting time – something that I didn’t have much of if I wanted to enter San Blas in the daylight.  Entering at night isn’t a great idea, even if you’re a pro (and I’m not).

So I cranked the engines, dropped the sails, and started making straight lines to San Blas.  About two hours out I was starting to feel a little queasy, and it became clear that I wasn’t going to make the anchorage until an hour after dark.  I started searching for an alternative anchorage (original plan was Chichime) – no dice. I was stuck with Chichime.  I was a little anxious, a little queasy, and generally not in a great mood.

The silver lining is that I pulled in a Blackfin Tuna on the way, so I was going to eat well for a couple of days.

Chichime In the Dark

After some searching of charts (and soul) I decided to risk the anchorage in Chichime after dark.  It was tricky, but I had previous GPS lines in and out from my last trip to San Blas.  And the alternative was spending the night rolling around in 12 foot seas.

I turned out all the unnecessary lights onboard, dimmed the GPS, slowed the engines and started in.  There were plenty of boats to run into in the anchorage, so it wasn’t as easy as it could have been.  No doubt they weren’t pleased when I hit them all with my spotlight – but I’m sure it’s better being hit by a spotlight than by a catamaran.

I managed to get the anchor down in a decent spot, with an appropriate scope and conservative swing radius.  Then I set an anchor alarm and had a beer.  It was another two hours before my nerves were back to normal.  I slept fitfully, worrying about pulling anchor.  But the anchor held, the sun rose, and Chichime looks much less daunting in the daylight.

 

 

Rewiring... Again

That’s what my catamaran does with only a single engine to get her out of port.  If I were in the open ocean, I’d be fine with a sail up and a single engine.  But here, in port, It’s fairly cramped quarters,  and I need room to maneuver with the single-engine handicap.

That’s also what the last few days have been like – going in circles.

 

Going In Circles

The prevailing wisdom when chasing electrical malfunctions/shorts is that it’s often in the connections.  Especially when you’re chasing the issues in wiring harnesses, over-engineered by Volvo Penta.  So I thought I figured it out.

But after removing the problematic (I thought) connection entirely, we were back at square one.  Engine still starts by itself.  Not cool.  So we pulled every piece of the damn harness out and cleaned connections and checked the resistance (for shorts).   Guido found a couple of very minor issues with two of my harnesses – and since he had a couple extra, we spliced them in and made it all permanent. Just to be safe.

Of course, we checked resistance along the way to be sure we weren’t wasting our time putting in faulty harnesses.  Eventually we managed to get it all connected, and tested it.  Boom!  It worked, the engine and glow-plugs started, RPM’s were showing correctly.  We were in the clear.

So we all (Austin, Guido and I) opened beers and started lying to each other about past accomplishments, like a trio of warriors having finished a victory over a resilient enemy.  And right then, the damn starboard engine started again.  The wiring harness wasn’t even plugged into the panel.

Beers flew as grown men scattered around the boat pulling wires. Guido was cursing in a Spanish, German, and English.  Austin kept saying “I don’t understand.”   F**k.   We played with some things and Guido came to believe it was likely the starter solenoid.

 

Part-Hunting

The next day we (Austin and I) headed into Colon searching for this starter solenoid.  Nobody had it.  We tried every parts-store in every sketchy, back-alley in Colon.  A couple of times I was sure we shouldn’t be where we were – but both being larger than the average Panamanian (and male) we risked it.  I’m happy to report we didn’t get stabbed, mugged, or beaten.

The next day I stopped by Guido’s and told him about our crap luck on the part-search.  He told me he thought one of the parts I described would work.  I hauled ass to Sabinitas (45 minutes) to grab it before the store closed.  With the part in hand, I thought I was back in the game.  It was Sunday, so the rest of the afternoon Austin and I re-tested the wiring, then ran my new wiring harness through the boat (which is a challenge, I found).

The next day I was at Guido’s early, helping him clean out my starter and re-assemble it with the solenoid.  Of course after a bit of work we found the solenoid I purchased in Sabinitas wouldn’t fit.  And nobody else had the solenoid.  My last hope was a shop in Panama City (2.5 hours away) that may/may not have it.  The only way to know was to go, bring the parts, and hope for the best.

I immediately left for the shop.  It was after noon, I had a long drive ahead of me, and the shop closed at 5PM sharp.  Some white-knuckle driving and a couple of hours of listening to my car fall apart around me found me in the right place.

Where I found the solenoid…

And guess what?  They had the part.  Thank whatever God you’re inclined to believe in.  So I decide to make use of my time and pick up that two-person fishing kayak I wanted and price a Yamaha 2-stroke 15HP outboard for my dinghy.  Done and done.   Productive day.

 

Parts-Trophies

Returning to Guido’s I held up the solenoid like a trophy.  We celebrated.  The next morning Guido came out and we installed the solenoid and connected everything.  It worked!  All gauges, the glow-plug, and starter worked like a charm.  Time to celebrate.  I think about kissing Guido, my savior.  Rather, I settle for a handshake and listening to some of his stories about his bike-gang days.

Guido wants a cold drink.  I only have cold beer.  He drinks cold beer, despite it being morning.  For this, I love Panama.   Then the starboard engine starts again.  F**k.  Again – we scramble, beers fly, and the cursing marathon begins in multiple languages.  For a solid 10 minutes we couldn’t get a sentence out without a healthy dose of profanity.  Mostly German and Spanish.

Well, we’re all out of guesses:

• We were hyper-vigilant when checking the wiring harness as we attached each section, and then again before and after we installed it.  Can’t be that.


• All the connections are fine.


• The starter and glow relays are new.


• The solenoid is new, and the starter is fine and we just serviced it.


• It’s not the panel (or the switches on it) as the engine starts without it connected.

So we pull every piece of the wiring harness we just built and installed.  Then we push twelve volts through it, where we can get our hands on it.  And we discover that while it wasn’t shorting when we were checking it (Olms?), the harness was shorting (in the center, not at a connection) only when we ran 12V through it.  The chances of this actually being the problem are so damn slim, it’s near zero.

But then Guido and I both remember the previous owner had a lightning strike a couple of years ago – which is the only way a short inside of the wiring harness would really happen (says Guido).  The fact that this is just now becoming an issue makes little sense to me (it’s been two years).  But whatever – the proof is in the proverbial pudding.

Now I’m back to square one.  Rewire the starboard engine.  Guido can get the Volvo Penta parts, but it’ll cost me a pretty penny and delay me another two weeks.  He says he can build one for half the cost, and without any connections (far less failure points) through the boat, in a day or less.  Deal.

But Wait…

Of course it’s now afternoon again, and the store closes soon.  And I have to drive back to Colon for connectors and wiring.  Naturally, my car battery is dead.

There’s a fish-farm home-based here (Puerto Lindo) with a bunch of University of Miami guys there – so I get their attention to give me a jump.  No dice.  So I remove the battery and hook it up to a 110V charger.  While I was waiting I watched Germany kick 4 goals in like 10 minutes, and the Brazilians in the stands started crying.

Then I put in the battery again for some more white-knuckle driving to Colon.  When I get there the store (and the others in the area) don’t have the connectors I need.  Some improvisation needed.  I’m getting pretty good at that though.

And today, I wait on Guido to come out and hopefully, finally, help me install the wiring.

How one eats breakfast before starting a day of wiring…

 

It’ll all be new, with no unnecessary connections, sealed appropriately, and likely as good or better than Volvo Penta’s.  At ¼ of the price of the parts alone, and an even smaller fraction of the original quote from the “mechanic” at Andromeda.

 

Wish me luck.

Going in Circles

Going In Circles

So I’ve delayed a post similar to this for about two weeks.  The truth is, I have a ton of respect for entrepreneurs and know how tough it is starting and running a business.  I also believe that informed consumers help move us all forward.  And finally, I don’t know how many folks this will really help.   With all that said, it’s time to shed a little light on an irresponsible business owner down here.

Mechanic vs. “Mechanic”

It’s been a hell of a couple of weeks.  But I should have known it was going to be this way.  Bringing it back to the day I left the boat in Panama, for my final month in the States…

Getting the boat shut up for a month leave was pretty stressful for me.  I wanted everything to be right so I didn’t come back to a complete mess.  I did pretty well, me thinks.  But it didn’t matter – I came back to a mess.   One that’s stuck with me.

 

The Watermaker

I spent some time learning the watermaker with the previous owner, and brought some of the cleaning and pickling compound down with me from the States.  So when I was ready to leave (in May) I carefully pickled it – ensuring that it wouldn’t grow any organic life inside of it.  If you don’t pickle a watermaker and leave it for a bit – it’s pretty damn gross.

Well, when the “mechanic” I hired to seal a hatch and change belts/oil came down – he decided he’d use my watermaker (without asking or telling me about it).  Normally this wouldn’t be a huge deal.  But in this case he really screwed me.

First – he ran all of the pickling compound from my watermaker into my water tanks (and out of my watermaker).  This caused two problems – a) my water tanks were now contaminated and b) my watermaker didn’t have  the pickling compound in it anymore.  The water tank was also left open, with my rainwater catch hose in it.  The whole freshwater system on my boat was a mess.  I fixed it (I think) by flushing it a few times, making multiple trips to shore and back with huge water jugs.

The second issue – un-pickling my watermaker – wasn’t really noticed until day before yesterday.  I left the watermaker alone until I had time to really work on it (I didn’t want to un-pickle it yet) – and right now my focus is on engine wiring.  So – when I finally had an extra set of hands onboard to help me flush and then service (replace some O-rings) in the watermaker, I went down there.

First thing I noticed was the growth.

Not supposed to be green…

The second thing I noticed was that the wrench set I was having trouble finding was hidden under the watermaker.  Third (and by far most expensive) thing I noticed was the geyser of water spraying out from my watermaker when I turned it on.

That crack = geyser inside the yacht

Here’s my theory:  the “mechanic” went down there to turn on the watermaker.  He turned it on (thereby flushing my pickling compound into my water tanks) and then noticed a leak (which I was going to fix with the new O-rings) and decided to tighten the bolts on that connection.  The issue with that is that overtightening them can damage the high-pressure housing (right term?).  And that’s what he did – he over tightened the bolt and cracked my $10K watermaker housing. Kind of a big deal.  

I called Andromeda Yachts (who damaged the watermaker) to try to arrange some kind of repair.  Of course they didn’t answer and then didn’t call me back.  When I finally got them on the phone, they denied damaging it (despite being the only people onboard), claimed it was “an old machine”  (it’s 3 years old – well within it’s service life), and said that they would come and work on it – but that they’d charge me for it.

The words I’ve used to explain this to others, I can’t use here.  I’d like to, but I have a feeling it’d be offensive to some.

Since they completely failed to take any kind of responsibility – I don’t mind mentioning their name again and steering people away from them: Andromeda Yachts.  They’re a joke.  A bad one.  Steer clear.

 

The Starboard Engine

When I arrived back in Panama (for good, a couple weeks ago), the “mechanic” from Andromeda still hadn’t finished doing what I paid him to do – replace a water-pump onboard the starboard engine.

So he came out with me to the boat (with his girlfriend, how professional) and worked on replacing it.  At first he put the replacement on incorrectly.  Then he put it on correctly, but the wrong direction (so, still incorrect – but closer).  Then he put the old one back on.    Then he realized he’d brought the wrong (new) part out.   So he left me with the old one on.  But there was something far more inconvenient:  he left me with my starboard engine non-functional.   

When he’d arrived, my starboard engine was working.  It started without issue.  But, of course during his time spent in and out of my engine room either a) the rain or b) his incompetence managed to cause an electrical issue that we haven’t been able to completely narrow down.

Of course, he couldn’t be bothered to figure out what the problem was.  So I gave him and his girlfriend a ride back to the dock.  He left me with the problematic water-pump and an inoperable starboard engine.  I was far worse off than when he’d arrived, and I’d paid for the shafting.

The next day I called Andromeda and asked what they planned on doing to fix this issue with the engine.  Their reply:  rewire the entire engine, replace the control panel, and all of the electrical components.  To the tune of $2.5K per engine.  Roberto (the guy I was speaking with) had the gall to say they could only give me this price if I let them stay on board (to keep expenses down).

When I balked at this, he said he could simply remove some of the connections in the engine room (which “may” solve the problem).  The cost for this?  $2K, and then they couldn’t “guarantee” their work.  Not that they’d done a particularly good job of this anyways (they’d “fixed” a couple of things onboard during the purchase process of my yacht – those things were broken when I returned to check their work – they refused to fix it).  Classy guys.

Now I know what you’re thinking:  Nate, why would you even consider using these guys?  Well, for one I’m stuck in Puerto Lindo, with very limited options.  The other is that these guys were supposed to be certified by Lagoon – the makers of my yacht.  The final reason is that Roberto speaks English.   Being new to sailing yachts, this area, and this country – those were pretty compelling reasons.

Of course when I started asking around – I found out that these guys were drastically overpriced, didn’t really know what they were doing, and generally not great mechanics.  Virtually everyone on the forums, and here locally gave me the same advice – troubleshoot, isolate the problem, and replace only that.

Naturally, Andromeda said something like “replace everything – and oh, by the way, we’ll do it for double the cost of anybody else.” Without even seeing if that would solve the problem.  To add insult to injury – recent troubleshooting has indicated their “solution” wouldn’t have solved anything.  I just would have paid $2.5K (per engine) for them to shrug their shoulders, and charge me for more work.  This is certainly their MO.

Looking for the moral of the story?  Allow me:

 

A)  Don’t use Andromeda Yachts for anything (don’t even get me started about their dishonestly during the brokering of my yacht)

B) Don’t assume that because a mechanic is certified by a yacht company – that they’re decent mechanics

C)  Always, always be present when someone is working on your boat.  Always

D) Learn to identify the difference between a “mechanic” and a mechanic.  It’s an expensive lesson to learn

E) Don’t underestimate the value of buying a yacht in-country, where it can be surveyed and refit professionally.  In some countries, yacht-service providers (in my case:  the “mechanic” and the “surveyor” both) are nothing short of astoundingly incompetent

Mechanic vs. "Mechanic"

No Brakes, No Engine

I’ve been trying to post more regularly, but the weird Laws of Internet here are working against me.  If I happen to have a couple of hours to burn and it’s not doing the monsoon thing (never) – I head to the only Internet spot in town.  But this spot is also a dive shop – so they open at 10:30 and shut down around 6PM.  Often taking off to dive – and yes, they shut down the Internet when they leave to dive.

And said dive shop/Internet spot is closed on Monday.  It’s crazy to me that the Internet has hours of operation here.  It also costs (an exorbitant amount of) money for access here in Puerto Lindo.  The whole thing goes against everything I’ve believed about the net.

 

No Brakes

The big news is that a) I have a car (which almost killed me) b) I finally went diving again c) the damn starboard engine still isn’t fixed (but I know what’s up).

Let’s start with the car.

I’m in Puerto Lindo, which is the boondocks.  It’s a solid 1.5 hours from Colon and about 2.5 from Panama City.  Neither are particularly fun drives.  But it’s better to drive than to ride one of the buses.  So I needed a car.  So I found a cheap SUV in town, which is a massive piece of crap – but I got it for $1700.  Not bad, as vehicles here are a little pricey.

Victor – the guy who sold it to me, is a cripple.  He doesn’t have use of his legs, at all.  Which makes negotiating with him a guilt-ridden exercise (exercise pun not intended).  But he was asking $2500, and that thing (now mine) is a rust-bucket.  So he eventually said yes to $1700.  But we needed to get it registered in my name, in Colon.  The way there was uneventful – but on the way back the brakes completely gave out.  Read that again.

The brakes gave out, at 50 mph, with a red light in front of us.

It was going to be ugly – crappy seat belts, no airbags.  I wouldn’t be pretty anymore.  The good news is that some of that split-second decision-making, gained running through traffic at warp-speed on top of a motorcycle, kicked in.  I took the SUV through the median, went airborne, weaved through oncoming traffic, and then threaded it through the red light – all without getting smashed to pieces.  Victor and our other passenger?  Squealing like little girls.

Long story short – the brake lines were bad.  Fixed at Victor’s expense.  It’s taken us three trips to Colon to get the damn thing registered, and Colon isn’t a tourist destination.  So there’s that.

 

Engine Wiring – The Bane of My Existence

On to the engine.  I thought I had it figured out – a faulty connector in the wiring harness, next to the engine.  But after circumventing that, the engine would continue to start by itself.  The engine still starts randomly.  So I tore the boat apart again and we think that the boat has a short actually in the wiring harness itself.

Today I’m pulling all of the wiring harnesses and taking them to my German mechanic.  He’ll test them, and may be able to fix the issue.  If not, we’ll simply run another wire from the panel to the engine, removing the faulty one.  Either way, I’m supposed to be done by Thursday.  But if it were legal to kill folks for wasting your time in Puerto Lindo – this place would have a population of zero.

 

On to Isla Grande

After a week messing with my engine and dealing with a POS SUV, I needed a break.  All work, no play.  That’s what I came down here for, right?

So I convinced Amy and Austin to come spend a couple of days aboard, where we’d eat and drink too much – and maybe even take the boat out to Isla Grande.  We succeeded on the first count, failed on the second.  Turns out motoring a catamaran out of a tight harbor with only one engine is not easy.  With sails up, we’d have been alright – but without the sails up, she prefers to go in circles.

Nonetheless we made it out to Isla Grande (in the dinghy), and spent a day diving, eating, and relaxing.  We all got sunburned.  It was nice.

 

Underwater 12V LED – Nighttime Entertainment

Nighttime entertainment

Then there’s the fun we’ve been having fishing and watching my underwater LED lights.  It’s a great form of after-dark entertainment.  For about $100 I bought a waterproof, 12V, LED light.  It attracts all kinds of crazy stuff – even when the fishermen are gill-netting 5 meters from your boat (which they are).  For instance – a sea turtle (twice).  He just comes in, glides around the light for a few minutes and then takes his leave.  Last night we caught one of his remoras on a fishing line, unfortunately.  You can see some of the bait in the picture above…

 

I’m Over Puerto Lindo

All in all, I’m done with Puerto Lindo.  It’s time to start moving.  Past-time to start moving, really.  So I’ll be home-basing here – for provisions and boat stuff, because I have a car, a mooring ball, and it’s close to San Blas and only a short sail from Cartagena.  But as soon as the engine is fixed I’m out for a few days.  Then I’ll do a longer sail through San Blas in mid-July.  And hopefully take a nice, long 3-week sail through San Blas to Cartagena with a buddy in August (Craig, you hoodlum - you better come through).

It sounds like friends will be flying into Panama occasionally, so I’ll be back and forth.  But what was once charming, is now annoying.  The honeymoon is over and Puerto Lindo looks different. Now it looks more like what it is – a sleepy fishing village where it’s either baking-hot or pouring rain (and sometimes both).  When there’s a bit of sunshine it’s great – but right now that’s more the exception than the rule.  Other places (San Blas and Cartagena, for instance) are still pretty sunny this time of year.

Luckily for me, I have a floating house.  When this engine is fixed (this week, I’m promised), I’ll be free to move on and find somewhere new and exciting.

 

No Brakes, No Engine