Thursday, 17 July
I arrived in Santa Barbara from Lake Arrowhead around noon. I made a of list of things to get done before sailing off to Channel Islands Harbor at 11:00 am the following day. The items on the list were not in order of importance. Fix a leak in the inflatable boat, haul myself up the mast to retrieve the working end of the jib halyard, and go over to the fuel dock and fill the tank with gasoline.
A look at the log book indicated that the engine had run 18 hours since the last refueling. The last time Savannah was run out of gas, she had logged 16 hours of run time for a full tank. But, that was the old style Atomic Four engine. The new engine (now 14 years old) is more efficient. Using the worst case assumption based on the old engine performance introduces for a margin of safety for fuel estimates with the “new” engine. Nevertheless, I had never logged 18 hours of runtime on a single tank of gas.
This put 'refueling' at the top of the list. It was mid afternoon and a fresh breeze was blowing. The thought of running out of fuel on the way to the fuel dock got a grip on me. At this point, a decisive mistake was make. Rather than wait until morning to refuel when the harbor is glassy and there is no breeze, I decided to insure that Savannah wouldn't run out of fuel on the way to the fuel dock by adding a small amount of gas from a can that was once carried as a reserve tank. How old was the gas? It seemed that the gas was only a year or two old. Bad call. This was the turning point. After adding the gallon of old gas, the previously reliable engine wouldn't start. I bought a new 5 gallon gerry can, filled it up at the gas station, carried it to Savannah. I did this three times in hopes that 15 gallons of new gas would dilute the old bad gas. A bad assumption.
Surprise! It only took 11 gallons to fill the tank. This meant that the tank had been 5 gallons from empty. Thus there was no need to add any gas in the first place. I could have motored to Channel Islands on the gas that was already in the tank for before I corrupted it with old gas. Now the entire tank was full of gas that had mingled with old gas.
To eliminate any uncertainty about the gas, I had no choice but to drain the entire tank. From the mother ship, I scrounged an old 6 gallon can, a 5 gallon can, two single gallon cans, and three pee buckets made from empty one and a half gallon kitty litter jugs. All this comes to 17ｽ gallons. More than I thought the tank could hold. Oh well. I stored the bad gas on the roof of the mother ship and poured the remaining four gallons of new gas into Savannah's tank.
Friday, 18 July
Robert Ramirez went in search of RJ-12 spark plugs. (don't ever get fooled again: “new” RJ-12 are not the same as the real RJ-12 plugs). The motor started but ran poorly and unreliably. We made it to the fuel dock, filled the tank and got under way. It was 15:00 hours (3 pm), and there was a nice breeze. We motored outside the harbor and, even before hauling up sail, the motor died. Should we turn back and get the Harbor Patrol to tow us to the slip or sail on to Channel Islands Harbor? Sail on.
We sailed into Channel Island Harbor at 20:30 (8:30 pm). We were surprised to see that the entire length of the dock at the Whale's Tail Restaurant was unoccupied. This was as far up the harbor as it was possible to sail against the wind. I called the Harbor Patrol for permission to dock there. The response was that the dock was reserved for a 100' sailing ship, the MiraMar due to arrive that night for the race on Saturday. We were invited to sail over to the Harbor Patrol dock and spend the night there.
Since there was only one small boat tied to the inside of the dock, I decided to eschew the Harbor Patrol's hospitality and simply move Savannah by her dock lines around the end of the dock to the inside of the dock. A massive seal and his harem were ensconced on the end of the dock. Savannah and crew eventually prevailed. At the Whale's Tale, Robert had a healthy meal while I drank 3 gin and tonics and looked out the window at Savannah at the dock.
Saturday, 19July 2014
Made it to race skipper's meeting by automobile with Dale Taylor at the helm. Returned to Savannah by the same method. Then we hailed one of the race contestants passing by the Whale's Tail on their way to the racecourse. They graciously towed us out to the starting line.
The weather was not on our side. Sea state was “lumpy” and the wind was somewhere between negligible and straight on the nose as we attempted to point towards platform Gina. The race committee boat was faced with a sea-sickening wait for all the boats to start or else postponing the race for a hour and adding an hour to the suffering on the committee boat. The early starters among the race contestants were clambering for the start to be delayed. Our plee was denied and the race started in dreadful sailing conditions at the scheduled time.
Savannah was sailing with a newly repaired Genoa. The leech line had snagged a spreader and had to be replaced with a new one by Bennett Garr, sailmaker extraordinaire. I paid it no attention though I should have. Later, I realized it was secured tightly causing the sail to be more cupped at the leech, in turn transforming the Genoa into a reaching sail that refused to point to windward.
Everything had gone wrong so it seemed. A sailing race on a gloomy day with no wind and choppy seas. Clouds were much darker than the usual grey. Sure enough, it rained on us. By the time we neared platform Gina, the wind came up a little. The larger, faster boats started after the breeze had established itself and had swung around more to the west so they could sail directly towards Gina. Savannah was a mile to leeward of Gina by the time we tacked. During the 2nd leg of the race from Gina to Ventura, the wind was fresh. By midway along the 2nd leg, Savannah was dead last. The prospects of making it back to the Yacht club unescorted weighed on the decision to be the first sailboat to abandon the race. We headed straight for the finish line short cutting the course and arriving to watch the fastest boats cross the finish line with the spinnakers flying. Sailing into Channel islands harbor was easier than the previous evening. This time the wind was more favorable. Savannah sailed well past the Whale's Tail dock. We almost made it to the dogleg where it would have been an easy sail to the raft-up at the Yacht Club. Almost but not quite.
But we managed to dock under sail at the public dock next to “Peninsula Park” where a large crowd was listening to live music. From there, I hitched a boat ride from a friendly stranger who took me to the yacht club. There, I arranged to get a guest slip where Savannah could remain until I could get the motor running. I inspected the slip to visualize what issues would be confronted getting Savannah into the slip under tow. Across the dock was Scott Harrington's boat Vignette with crew in matching shirts busily clearing the decks, packing sails fore and aft. Next to Scott's boat was a small runabout just right for towing the 7 ton Savannah. I called out, “Who owns this boat?" Everyone on board Vignette nervously made gestures to placate me. I was bemused. Then I realized they all thought I was the owner of the large slip in which the tiny runabout was temporarily docked. I could feel their relief when I told them I was asking for a tow from the park to the slip across the dock. And the owner of the runabout (name needed), was eager to help, claiming to have recently mastered the art of side towing a bigger boat.
We secured the runabout to Savannah's port quarter. The breeze was off the port bow. We pushed the bow away and tried to motor off, by means of his motor and my rudder. I had wanted to run the stern up the dock to point Savannah straight away from the dock before getting started. As it turned out, we weren't able to get enough speed to steer away from the dock. I held a fender over the starboard rail as we came alongside a little powerboat harbor cruiser that was tied up at the dock. It was full of people having dinner. I came face to face with a woman who had just set down to a hearty meal. The dinner party was enclosed in windows and was calm and peaceful until we arrived. I was only a foot or two away from this stranger with an expression of surprise, confusion and perhaps a little fear. We fended off, apologized and made it back to the dock with no harm done. All is well that ends well.
Take two: This time Savannah was pointing ninety degrees from the dock when we got under way. It went perfectly. Except when we made it to the slip, it wasn't vacant any more. Steve Guilford's boat Ariel was there even though we had agreed that he would take the vacant slip nearest shore and I would take the slip nearest the open channel. We dropped into a vacant upwind slip unable to see if our second choice was, in fact, vacant. Hoping for the best we backed out of the upwind slip and found our slip vacant.
We had dinner at the Yacht club and returned to Santa Barbara afterwards with Dale Taylor.
Sunday 20 Jul 2014
I drove my car from Santa Barbara to Oxnard and ran some futile tests on Savannah's motor and finally gave up. I removed the carburetor and drove back to Santa Barbara. I got to know Mike, the dock master of Pacific Corinthian Marina. He gave me the old-timer's guest rate of $1/foot = $35/day. Old-timer: 70 year old me or my 50 year old boat? Oh well.
Monday 21 Jul 2014
I was waiting at Carburetor/Electric when Dennis McDaniel arrived to open the shop. I gave him my carburetor and my sad story. I returned to retrieve it before it was ready. I told him I would wait as long as necessary. After a while he gave me my carburetor and I paid the bill.
Tuesday 22 Jul 2014
Only when the choke was fully deployed would the engine run. Deactivate the choke and she died from any RPM. I tried bypassing the safety valve between the ignition signal and the fuel pump. Suddenly. she ran for extended periods of time but only with the choke deployed. Even the sound of her running strongly gave me confidence that, possibly, I could make it back to Santa Barbara with the choke deployed. So I soldered all the fuel pump wiring back. And turned the boat around by her dock lines. This would allow me to exit under high RPM if necessary and run straight out of the slip without backing and reversing thrust. One final test lead to great disappointment. She died after about a minute of runtime.
Wednesday 23
Except for the choke phenomenon, I've been here before. There's a fuse between the fuel pump and the ignition switch. When that fuse blows, the fuel pump only runs while the starter switch is active. This fills the carburetor with enough gas to run about a minute. Then it will conk out. But the fuse was obviously intact. Since the carburetor was obviously malfunctioning, I assumed that all problems must be attributed to the carburetor, and not the fuse that wasn't blown. Totally frustrated and confused, I called my towing insurance company for a tow back to Santa Barbara.
Thursday 24 Jul 2014
A pleasant ride behind a 200' towline as forecast gale force winds never occurred. Captain Eric was effective, efficient and a pleasure to encounter.
Friday, 25 Jul 2014
Left a disabled Savannah in Santa Barbara and headed to Skyforest.
Tuesday, 5 Aug 2014
Ten days later I'm back in SB. With assistance from Kevin McCinney, the hose from the fuel pump was directed into a bottle. The fuel pump proved with gusto that it was working just fine.
New approach: Consider two separate problems rather that a single carburetor issue.
The choke only phenomenon looks like the main jet wasn't working and that fuel was only passed through secondary jets when the suction was made sufficient by blocking the air intake. How could that be after Dennis McDaniel gave it the royal treatment. Or did he?
The short runtime was caused by the ignition switch signal not making it through the fuse and the oil pressure safety valve. I was ready buy a new safety valve from Moyer Marine from whom I bought the engine. The fuse holder was well made and obviously in tact. I was about to order a new safety valve and wait another week and spend another hundred dollars. Hoping to avoid that fate, I measured voltage at the ignition INPUT to the safety valve (way down and back) with the motor running (not easily done). The measurement could alternately be described as the voltage at the output of the fuse holder.
OMG! Only four volts going into the safety valve. It wasn't the safety valve it was the fuse holder and the fuse that were malfunctioning. The likely explanation is this: The contacts inside the waterproof fuse holder are sharp. The fuse holder contacts had worn deep gouges in the contact surfaces of the fuse. Though well made, the fuse holder was floating, supported only by the two wires to which it was electrically connected. Away from the fuse holder, these wires are terminated at different parts of the engine and vibrate with the engine. A new, waterproof fuse holder that includes a mounting hole was purchased and screwed securely to the bulkhead alongside the engine. A new fuse replaced the fuse that failed in a unique fashion.
Wednesday, 6 Aug 2014
Back to Carburetor/Electric with the carburetor and some questions for Dennis McDaniels. He graciously offered to give it a more thorough cleaning. I wish he had done it that way the first time.I think it's about hooking the carburetor to a machine that flushes a solvent through it. This 2nd time around, it got the full treatment and maybe more. When I re-installed it later that day, Savannah's troubles were a thing of the past.
Thursday, 7 Aug 2014
With the motor purring, I cast off dock lines at 14:00 hours (2pm) and motored out of the harbor.I hauled up sails and beat to weather a short while before jibing around and heading for the SB Pier. From there I sailed through the anchorage and watched the SB coastline float by until I reached Summerland. Upon tacking back into the wind, I found out it had strengthened while I floated effortlessly downwind. After a long beat back to SB harbor mouth, the motor started without any surprises or disappointments and served me well while dropping sail and getting back to the home slip in Marina 4 at 17:30. At last.
Conclusion.
I failed to track fuel consumption and paid dearly.
I took a big gamble on old gas and lost.
Carburetor/Electric failed to successfully clean the Carburetor on the first attempt. This was possibly because I showed up, eager and anxious, hours before closing time. I took it for granted that the carburetor issue was resolved after the first cleaning when in fact the main jet was still plugged.
I could easily have sailed in an afternoon from channel Islands to Smugglers Cove or Scorpion Anchorage and then on to Santa Barbara the following day. However, there were abundant gail warnings in the forecast at the time. I was fairly worn out from engine proceedings and wasn't in the mood for a single handed voyage to weather with gale warnings in the forecast. Not at 70 years of age.
The fuse issue could have beaten most human beings but tenacity and back against the wall overcame.
God, commitment prevailed over whimsey.
And God, I hope you enjoyed the melodrama.
And God, I still like you.
