Sunrise.

French pressed Colombian coffee wafted through the boat and coaxed me out of bed.  The boat slowly rocking, the movement almost imperceptible.  The girls were up and whispering on the deck, I heard them giggling.  Up.  Coffee.

I did a check of everything as I drank coffee and wiped the sleep from my eyes.  Engine room.  Oil and coolant and belts all checked out.  Power.  We had plenty of energy.  Water.  We were eating through our water rather quickly.

No headache this morning.  I thanked God for that and then wondered what God I should be thanking for a hangover-free morning?   The night before included champagne, good whiskey, and cold beer – all before sunset.  This morning could have been worse.  

San Blas!!

I started the engines and put Ana and Des on the bow to help pull anchor.  We were under way in 10 minutes.  I hailed our neighbors on the VHF and wished them fair winds.  They responded warmly.  Then I heard their radio chatter switch to the nuts-and-bolts as their little cruising group prepared to pull anchor and head to Colombia.  Then we switched our VHF channel to 72, and it started to feel like I never left San Blas.  Maybe Colombia was just a hot dream.  It was time for the morning net – I put NOMAD on autopilot, left the girls in charge and went below to play with the SSB.  We checked in on the net and caught our friend’s positions in the islands.  I was officially back.  People welcomed us back.  It felt good.

No wind.  Motors on and chugging through the interior of the San Blas islands. Heat.  Blinding sunlight.  Rolling waves and the sunlight playing games as it broke and twisted and reflected back at us under the surface.  Fishing lines out.  Breakfast sizzling. The smell was outrageously good. Small talk as I talked through our options for the day. What island?  How far?  Stop for water?  Stop for fuel?  Somewhere to dive or somewhere to see friends or somewhere to resupply? 

BZZZZZZZ  … The fishing lines screaming brought everyone together and back to the present.  I slowed the boat.  We drug the fish to tire it out.  I slowed a little more and we began gaining line on him.  But he was fighting and wasn’t jumping – which made me believe it was a Tuna or Barracuda.  I hoped for Tuna.  I could taste the Tuna steaks.  After dragging our prey behind the boat for a few minutes we caught sight of him in the wake.  Shark.  On a trolling lure?  Yep.  Bummer.  Not a huge shark, but no matter the size – it was a species we didn’t want to eat, which had a mouthful of dangerous teeth, and all of this would likely end in me loosing yet another fishing lure.  I got the shark to the sugar scoops and then he went apeshit.  The girls snapped pictures.  Then he swam away with my leader and my lure:  the line had snapped in my hand.  Rookie mistake.  I knew better than to hold him out of the water by the fishing line.  Well… Onward.

Our shark

We needed to pick up another person in Western San Blas.  We decided to sail halfway there, then the remainder of the way the following morning.  I wanted to see some old friends – Mike and Laura on Gilana.  They were in their usual spot – Yansaladup.  It’s a tricky anchorage to get into, but it’s good practice for the girls – they need to be able to spot reef and direct me around it from the front of the boat.  Here’s some more geo-reference. 

San Blas!!

As we entered the West Lemmons we were hailed by Sundowner (their website here:  Sundowner Sails Again) who had been chatting with me online for a couple months.  It was a half-surprise to bump into them. I got distracted chatting with them on the radio and nosed up very close to a reef, but I recovered without incident. 

We found a great spot to drop the anchor.  As we were letting out our anchor and chain I noticed that my starboard engine had died.  I tried to put the engine back into neutral and the throttle lever was stuck.  It wouldn’t budge.  Problem.

The Buzzkill

I didn’t have time to mess with it then.  But when we got anchored and secured, I nervously checked the Teleflex cables.  The cables were fine.  It was the damned saildrive.  Big problem.  It was seized and when I checked for oil (the same check I’d done just a few hours before) I found none on the dipstick.  Major problem.  Blown seal.  F*&$k.  

I immediately started pulling the sail drive apart.  When I did I found bronze shavings.  Lots of shavings and no oil.  Major bummer. This was going to be expensive.  This was going to take time.  This was not cool.  This is boat life.  

The point of going to this anchorage was to visit a friend and have a happy reunion before leaving to pick up Teena the following morning.  All of that shattered by this most recent discovery.  When I did finally see Mike and Laura I was sweating profusely, covered in grime, and a little worried.  Mike noticed quickly and after the “Hello, it’s been so long” ’s were exchanged we quickly got down to troubleshooting.  Mike told me he’d come and have a look, but to keep taking it apart. 

Back onboard the girls were a little bummed to hear of our latest mechanical failure, but their feeling of “that’s inconvenient” pales in comparison to the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  This wasn’t going to be an easy fix.  And I had a guest coming. And I was stuck without any Internet access (to do research).  Water was being used at an alarming rate.  We did, though, have booze and good cheese.  If nothing else, we could attempt to drown our sorrows and eat away any lingering depression. 

That is a bit dramatic. 

The truth is that our passage was a success, we were anchored in a beautiful place near close friends and anything on this boat I was confident I could find a way to fix.  Almost anything.  Especially with Mike’s help (he’s a fix-stuff God).  Add to that the fact that I was being treated like a king by my new crew – and – well…  It can always be worse.  Always.

After a few hours of sweating and bleeding in the engine rooms Mike and I came to the conclusion this was a big project.  Nothing as simple as replacing a bolt.  We did find oil at the bottom of the drive, but it was clear that much had leaked out.  That means that my oil-seal  in the lower drive had blown out underway as no oil was in the engine rooms. 

I’ll post a picture of the offending part when I’m able – but it’s a sleeve that sits over the gears and serves to help select gears (Reverse – Neutral – Forward).  It’s toast.  Chewed up.  Destroyed.  We had no internet, but Mike found it was about $600 for the part – plus shipping.  And getting it out of the sail drive with the boat in the water wasn’t going to be easy.  We did find, though, that we could repair it without hauling the boat, a massive relief.  As long as this turns out to be the problem, I could be back in business within a month.  Until then, I’m a little crippled.

When all of this is over I will be well-versed in maneuvering tight (and reef-strewn) anchorages with a single engine.  

Because Mike and Laura are somewhat of a family, they helped organize getting Teena out to me in Yansaladup.  We had Mahi sushi and wine for dinner and slept well.

We would work things out mañana.

Mañana. 

San Blas!!