From the log . . .
When we went to Honolulu in 1949, the Parker Diesel Company took down my diesel engine at my request, so as to be certain that it was alright and in good shape. They found many thins that they thought needed repairing to the tune of approximately $860.00. however, from that time on the engine constantly leaked oil. We would find oil in the bilge and would have to put in about 2 quarts every time we went out. We never used the engine very much, so that there was not much oil used.
When we went to Honolulu in 1949, the Parker Diesel Company took down my diesel engine at my request, so as to be certain that it was alright and in good shape. They found many thins that they thought needed repairing to the tune of approximately $860.00. however, from that time on the engine constantly leaked oil. We would find oil in the bilge and would have to put in about 2 quarts every time we went out. We never used the engine very much, so that there was not much oil used.
Going down the coast from Oakland to Santa Barbara, the oil pressure would constantly fall and we use about 8 1/2 gallons of lubricating oil between Oakland and Santa Barbara. During the process, it seemed obvious that I was the only one that could find the leak in the oil line, although I had advised the mechanics, just before we left that there was a leak some place and they assured me that everything was dandy.
It was perfectly obvious when close inspection was made under way, that there was a leak that came out the front of the crank case, just below the fly wheel. It seems as though there was an almost constant stream of oil running down into the bilge and I determined that we would have it fixed in Santa Barbara, if possible.
Throughout the transcription of the log, I come upon Xpression(s) that really make me pause.
"When close inspection was made under way" . . .
There have been a couple of times when I’ve taken boats out from OCSC, and I’ve had to make ‘close inspections under way’ while the boat is bucking up and down in the close steep chop of the Olympic Circle. Cleaning the rotor of the knot meter while underway, for example; sailing on Echo, I’d been asked to take the helm many times, while the owner went below to do it, eventually I wanted to learn to do it, and asked Jack to walk me through it at the dock - it is unnerving the first time. Pulling the thing out of the hull, you are in fact opening a hole in the hull while underway. That’s spooky. The hull is supposed to be water tight, and you’ve just violated that. You have pulled a plug and there is now a hole. When you pull the plug on a bath tub the water goes out, pulling this plug, the water comes in . . . yikes!
It’s pretty easy really, and one day I might post something to guide others in this particular ‘close inspection under way’. Unfortunately, I challenged the BBC certification, so I don’t know . . . if I’d taken the class, maybe they demonstrate this. Inspecting through holes, now that was pretty easy to understand, but intentionally opening one – it takes a little nerve to do it on your own for the first time.
If anyone who charters wonders why there is a big flashlight in the egg crate on the boats, and smirks every time they fill out the check list . . .
There we were – running downwind with the spinnaker, rocking and rolling and having a good time. The sun was going down, the J105 Energy behind us . . .
By the way - Chris emailed me after reading the last post – that was them, they had no more than ‘the usual’ rocking and rolling after making a complete transit around Angel Island and flying the chute on a WNS– God I love those guys! If you ever get a chance to sail with Knut, or Chris – go for it!
. . . and we had no instruments, no cabin lights, the navigation lights getting dimmer and dimmer. Something was wrong with the electrical system, and there was no effective way (that I knew of) to prevent what was about to happen.
Landfall II had very little in the way of electrical systems. It had an engine (it even had an engine room!). So reading that part of the log, imagining a ‘close inspection under way’ as they motored down the coast to Santa Barbara, and thinking about what could have been done on Xpression Wednesday night, I don’t know, I can’t imagine what I could have done differently.
As we approached the central entrance, Energy slipped past and made their way into the harbor. They had jibed the chute to the north while we had taken ours down (anticipating we wouldn’t have an engine). I was confident I could sail into the slip, but not confident that I could get the chute down in the harbor, with the crew on board.
One of whom was wearing sunglasses at night. I forget who it was, but they started singing the lines from that tune:
“I wear my sunglasses . . . at night, I . . .”
“Hey, they are prescription” George begins to explain.
“I left my . . .”
Before he can finish the sentence, I call out to Bradley:
“I think we are aground!”
“Yeah, you’re right”
We are about 10 yards inside the breakwater, not moving an inch.
We try a couple of things, rocking, unfurling the jib, sheeting in, but nothing gets us free.
Jamie (one of OCSC’s service guys) is on shore, and he calls out:
“You in the mud?”
“Yeah, the battery’s dead, no engine”
We drop the main and flake it while Jamie and Rich come out in the inflatable to pull us free and tow us to the gas dock.
Having a big flashlight is very helpful as we put the boat away.
Throughout the transcription of the log, I come upon Xpression(s) that really make me pause.
"When close inspection was made under way" . . .
There have been a couple of times when I’ve taken boats out from OCSC, and I’ve had to make ‘close inspections under way’ while the boat is bucking up and down in the close steep chop of the Olympic Circle. Cleaning the rotor of the knot meter while underway, for example; sailing on Echo, I’d been asked to take the helm many times, while the owner went below to do it, eventually I wanted to learn to do it, and asked Jack to walk me through it at the dock - it is unnerving the first time. Pulling the thing out of the hull, you are in fact opening a hole in the hull while underway. That’s spooky. The hull is supposed to be water tight, and you’ve just violated that. You have pulled a plug and there is now a hole. When you pull the plug on a bath tub the water goes out, pulling this plug, the water comes in . . . yikes!
It’s pretty easy really, and one day I might post something to guide others in this particular ‘close inspection under way’. Unfortunately, I challenged the BBC certification, so I don’t know . . . if I’d taken the class, maybe they demonstrate this. Inspecting through holes, now that was pretty easy to understand, but intentionally opening one – it takes a little nerve to do it on your own for the first time.
If anyone who charters wonders why there is a big flashlight in the egg crate on the boats, and smirks every time they fill out the check list . . .
There we were – running downwind with the spinnaker, rocking and rolling and having a good time. The sun was going down, the J105 Energy behind us . . .
By the way - Chris emailed me after reading the last post – that was them, they had no more than ‘the usual’ rocking and rolling after making a complete transit around Angel Island and flying the chute on a WNS– God I love those guys! If you ever get a chance to sail with Knut, or Chris – go for it!
. . . and we had no instruments, no cabin lights, the navigation lights getting dimmer and dimmer. Something was wrong with the electrical system, and there was no effective way (that I knew of) to prevent what was about to happen.
Landfall II had very little in the way of electrical systems. It had an engine (it even had an engine room!). So reading that part of the log, imagining a ‘close inspection under way’ as they motored down the coast to Santa Barbara, and thinking about what could have been done on Xpression Wednesday night, I don’t know, I can’t imagine what I could have done differently.
As we approached the central entrance, Energy slipped past and made their way into the harbor. They had jibed the chute to the north while we had taken ours down (anticipating we wouldn’t have an engine). I was confident I could sail into the slip, but not confident that I could get the chute down in the harbor, with the crew on board.
One of whom was wearing sunglasses at night. I forget who it was, but they started singing the lines from that tune:
“I wear my sunglasses . . . at night, I . . .”
“Hey, they are prescription” George begins to explain.
“I left my . . .”
Before he can finish the sentence, I call out to Bradley:
“I think we are aground!”
“Yeah, you’re right”
We are about 10 yards inside the breakwater, not moving an inch.
We try a couple of things, rocking, unfurling the jib, sheeting in, but nothing gets us free.
Jamie (one of OCSC’s service guys) is on shore, and he calls out:
“You in the mud?”
“Yeah, the battery’s dead, no engine”
We drop the main and flake it while Jamie and Rich come out in the inflatable to pull us free and tow us to the gas dock.
Having a big flashlight is very helpful as we put the boat away.
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