The Way Home
Part 1
May 8, 2018
At anchor in Marsh Harbor, Abacos, Bahamas.
Carol left today. She will be flying to Tampa, renting a car, driving to Placida, reclaiming our car and driving it jam-packed home to Vinalhaven. I do not envy her this trip but I know that Carol could have been a long haul trucker had she not chosen a different career, albeit one that placed equally harsh demands on the body and dependence on sleep deprivation. (In the end she made a surprisingly civilized trip out of it, taking a week and visiting old flight attendant friends along the way).
All I have to do is get ready for my son Dylan and his friend Nate to show up in a week’s time to help me sail Tarwathie home to Maine.
May 9
The last time I had checked, the coolant level was down in the heat exchanger. That was just a short time ago so I should look into this. Checking again I find it even lower after only a short time running and the engine is beginning to run hotter than I am accustomed to. After further inconclusive diagnostic steps I call Diesel Don in Marathon. He suggests starting the engine with the heat exchanger cap off. When I do this half the coolant is immediately blown throughout the engine compartment. Diagnosis: a blown head gasket. A call to Beta Marine has a new gasket kit overnight shipped to Dylan who will bring it out when he comes.
May 14
The day before Dylan was to arrive I plan to remove the engine head and be prepped to replace the head gasket as soon as it gets here. I saw no need to do this before now as I could still run the engine should the need arise and there were plenty of other things to do to get ready for the sail home. And I needed to watch as many YouTube instructional videos as I could on how to perform this operation. Being as careful and methodical as I can, and periodically consulting Diesel Don, I dismantle the engine and remove the head.
May 15
With the head in hand, I make my way to the only machine shop in town that can clean it up and evaluate its condition. There is clear evidence that the head gasket had blown but on further inspection it is determined that the head itself is cracked! This is not good. I make another call to Stan at Beta Marine and we get a new head coming by Federal Express, hoping it will arrive by the end of the week. If it does not get to me by Friday, it will not be available until the following Tuesday as the Bahamas is having a holiday which means a three day weekend. I can not find out what the holiday is. Just that it is a holiday.
Dylan and friend do not arrive today. They missed their connection in NYC due to fog.
May 16
Dylan and Nate arrive. I am tracking the head’s progress on line.
May 18
The head arrived at noon today. Dylan and I put the head in place, progressively torque the head bolts down in the proper order and proceed to re-assemble the engine. He and I are both new to this. I call Diesel Don a couple of times, as much for encouragement as for instruction. His “you got ‘er, buddy” is incredibly reassuring and far more valuable then all the YouTube videos I had watched.
There are no parts left over as evening closes in on us, so we decide to start the engine. All we get is an electrical static before we find a fuse holder that is completely corroded and in pieces. Starting will have to wait till morning.
May 19
The holiday does not keep Napa closed today so I am able to get a new fuse and fuse holder.
The engine starts.
We run it for thirty minutes and fuel up at the Conch Inn Marina.
We leave tomorrow.
Part 2
May 20
By 1030 we are ready to leave Marsh Harbor. A mad Canadian singlehander Mike is also leaving for the US at the same time. His promise to follow us is quickly seen as a joke as he sails away from us at the getgo. We are both sailing with a reefed main and small jib in a brisk southeasterly breeze. Once we are clear of the Sea of Abaco the combination of sea swell and wind driven chop quickly puts our stomachs on notice. This was to be our standard for the next two days as we barreled along, averaging 6 nautical miles and one trip to the rail per hour.
May 22
The winds have let up a bit so we begin motor-sailing in order to keep moving. The motor at low rpm’s and the light tailwind combine to keep our average speed around 5 knots. Our stomachs have relaxed but our appetites have yet to return.
May 23
We are back to sailing under the large headsail alone. In the afternoon we have winds estimated at 25 to 30 knots and driving rain. Our speed periodically exceeds 7 knots. We have decided to head for Beaufort, NC as a northerly flow of air is predicted for Cape Hatteras during the time we would be rounding that notorious cape. Besides, we all agree that a day’s rest and a cheeseburger would be nice.
May 24
The winds abate once more around 3am so we are motoring on our final approach to Beaufort. Sunrise finds us in considerable traffic as sport fishermen leave Beaufort and Morehead City to try their luck. A strong current slows our progress into Taylor Creek. We have cleared customs, refueled and anchored by noon and are now ready for the cheeseburger.
On our way back to Tarwathie for a nap we see Mike milling around the anchorage looking for a place to set his hook. We must have gone by him during the night as he rested, choosing to take advantage of lighter winds rather then motor.
What follows is the most bizarre occurrence of the entire seven months aboard Tarwathie. When we reached our dinghy and looked out to where we had left Tarwathie, there was nothing. I mean she was gone. I yell to the sailor who was our neighbor and he informs me that she was towed away and points down Taylor Creek in the direction away from town. Dylan goes for the dinghy, Nate and I start walking. Over two miles and thirty minutes away we finally come upon her tied to a marina dock. The marina representative knew little more then that she had been towed in by a couple of home boys working for BoatUS. He says just take the boat but I want to talk to someone responsible for the towing. When the BoatUS supervisor shows up he is loaded with a defense that includes three reported collisions with Tarwathie as she floated down the creek with her anchor hanging straight down, not touching the bottom. I sign a release and take the boat. No further action is necessary.
After re-anchoring Tarwathie in a different location within the anchorage, I row back to our original spot to find out if the sailor anchored near us could shed some light on what had happened. He watched the whole thing. A BoutUS tow boat came upon Tarwathie as she was moving around on her anchor due to a changing tidal current and opposing wind. She was not dragging. The tow boat operators circled around calling for someone aboard and were told our dinghy was ashore by the neighboring sailor. They then went aboard and hauled up our anchor, swearing loudly all the while about freeloading sailors who don’t know what they are doing, causing them grief and taking advantage of the locals. Then, with the anchor still dangling eight feet in the water, they towed Tarwathie away, an act of piracy in Blackbeard’s stomping grounds.
May 25
A lay day, time spent with our buddy Mike and eating two dollar cheeseburgers at a local bar. Other then the towing incident, Beaufort is a great stopover.
May 26
We ride the falling tide out of Beaufort Sound and head for Cape Hatteras. A lovely southerly breeze carries us around Cape Hatteras and well on our way to New England before the wind dies and the fog sets in.
May 28
We are half way to Block Island when the fog shuts in and the winds fail completely. We are also starting to cross shipping lanes leading into New York City.
Thankfully Dylan takes it upon himself to figure out the AIS feature on the VHF radio. This feature identifies vessels with AIS transponders and supplies valuable information about their movement. Dylan contacts the vessel and determine headings that will avoid collision. Pretty cool. Dylan is not impressed by my nonchalance regarding crossing shipping lanes in thick fog during the dead of night. Kids!
May 30
Block Island is just miles ahead as I once again check our fuel level. It looks good. We should make a timely arrival with the help of our motor in a very light breeze.
As it turns out we have all of one gallon of diesel left in the tank when we get to the fuel dock at Block Island. The summer season has yet to arrive at Block Island as we are only one of less than a half dozen boats sharing the well over one hundred moorings in the harbor. On shore everyone is busy getting ready for what must be a frenzied couple of months.
May 31
We are up early with plans to get away shortly so as to arrive at the Cape Cod Canal with the current running in our favor toward Cape Cod Bay. The usual check of the engine vitals reveals the catchment pan beneath the engine full of oil. My first thought is that something in our reassembly of the engine has gone horribly wrong. Further inspection reveals a hole in the rear of the engine block spewing a fine mist of oil when the engine is running. Turns out, after another call to Stan at Beta Marine, that this is an optional port for a dip stick generally closed off with a “blank plug”. The blank plug is missing. Back on shore, I am told that there are no diesel mechanics on the island but maybe Tony can help me. As luck would have it, Tony is a former Westsail owner and a prince of a man. He gives me the keys to his shop and directs me to a dump-bound Datsun suggesting that we might be able to use its dip stick to fashion a plug. That, indeed, is what we do and a couple of hours later then we would have liked, we are rushing, motor-sailing, to get to the Cape Cod Canal before its four knot current turns against us.
June 1
It is just after midnight. The tidal current is just going slack, about to turn, as we approach Cape Cod Bay. We made it through the canal in time. The half moon is bright and there is just enough breeze to try to sail. The air has a New England chill in it. Not far now.
June 2
We have to revert to just the engine again shortly after midnight. We are within striking distance. It is cloudy, no visible moon and foggy. Lobster pots are beginning to appear so from here on out we keep a bow watch, for what it is worth. We are practically on top of them before we see them. Thankfully the sky starts to lighten at 4am.
It’s 5:30, the fog is thinning and Heron Neck on the southeastern end of Greens Island comes into view. Within a half hour we will be tied up at the ferry terminal dock in Carvers Harbor, walking up to the Surfside Cafe for breakfast.
So that is it. We made home after ten days underway, thirteen days total, over 1200 nautical miles traveled from Marsh Harbor to Carvers Harbor. Not without its trials but did I mention the full moon sailing so bright you could almost read a book; or the schools of dolphin flying by, heading somewhere south; and speaking of flying, how about those fish that could very literally fly, changing direction, altitude, in and out of waves and occasionally into the cockpit; or the grey seals so abundant and playful you would a thought you’d happened on a seal nation holiday; but little tops the majesty of several tons of mammal surfacing along side, then disappearing, leaving you desperately searching for just one more glimpse.
Sent from my iPad
Part 1
May 8, 2018
At anchor in Marsh Harbor, Abacos, Bahamas.
Carol left today. She will be flying to Tampa, renting a car, driving to Placida, reclaiming our car and driving it jam-packed home to Vinalhaven. I do not envy her this trip but I know that Carol could have been a long haul trucker had she not chosen a different career, albeit one that placed equally harsh demands on the body and dependence on sleep deprivation. (In the end she made a surprisingly civilized trip out of it, taking a week and visiting old flight attendant friends along the way).
All I have to do is get ready for my son Dylan and his friend Nate to show up in a week’s time to help me sail Tarwathie home to Maine.
May 9
The last time I had checked, the coolant level was down in the heat exchanger. That was just a short time ago so I should look into this. Checking again I find it even lower after only a short time running and the engine is beginning to run hotter than I am accustomed to. After further inconclusive diagnostic steps I call Diesel Don in Marathon. He suggests starting the engine with the heat exchanger cap off. When I do this half the coolant is immediately blown throughout the engine compartment. Diagnosis: a blown head gasket. A call to Beta Marine has a new gasket kit overnight shipped to Dylan who will bring it out when he comes.
May 14
The day before Dylan was to arrive I plan to remove the engine head and be prepped to replace the head gasket as soon as it gets here. I saw no need to do this before now as I could still run the engine should the need arise and there were plenty of other things to do to get ready for the sail home. And I needed to watch as many YouTube instructional videos as I could on how to perform this operation. Being as careful and methodical as I can, and periodically consulting Diesel Don, I dismantle the engine and remove the head.
May 15
With the head in hand, I make my way to the only machine shop in town that can clean it up and evaluate its condition. There is clear evidence that the head gasket had blown but on further inspection it is determined that the head itself is cracked! This is not good. I make another call to Stan at Beta Marine and we get a new head coming by Federal Express, hoping it will arrive by the end of the week. If it does not get to me by Friday, it will not be available until the following Tuesday as the Bahamas is having a holiday which means a three day weekend. I can not find out what the holiday is. Just that it is a holiday.
Dylan and friend do not arrive today. They missed their connection in NYC due to fog.
May 16
Dylan and Nate arrive. I am tracking the head’s progress on line.
May 18
The head arrived at noon today. Dylan and I put the head in place, progressively torque the head bolts down in the proper order and proceed to re-assemble the engine. He and I are both new to this. I call Diesel Don a couple of times, as much for encouragement as for instruction. His “you got ‘er, buddy” is incredibly reassuring and far more valuable then all the YouTube videos I had watched.
There are no parts left over as evening closes in on us, so we decide to start the engine. All we get is an electrical static before we find a fuse holder that is completely corroded and in pieces. Starting will have to wait till morning.
May 19
The holiday does not keep Napa closed today so I am able to get a new fuse and fuse holder.
The engine starts.
We run it for thirty minutes and fuel up at the Conch Inn Marina.
We leave tomorrow.
Part 2
May 20
By 1030 we are ready to leave Marsh Harbor. A mad Canadian singlehander Mike is also leaving for the US at the same time. His promise to follow us is quickly seen as a joke as he sails away from us at the getgo. We are both sailing with a reefed main and small jib in a brisk southeasterly breeze. Once we are clear of the Sea of Abaco the combination of sea swell and wind driven chop quickly puts our stomachs on notice. This was to be our standard for the next two days as we barreled along, averaging 6 nautical miles and one trip to the rail per hour.
May 22
The winds have let up a bit so we begin motor-sailing in order to keep moving. The motor at low rpm’s and the light tailwind combine to keep our average speed around 5 knots. Our stomachs have relaxed but our appetites have yet to return.
May 23
We are back to sailing under the large headsail alone. In the afternoon we have winds estimated at 25 to 30 knots and driving rain. Our speed periodically exceeds 7 knots. We have decided to head for Beaufort, NC as a northerly flow of air is predicted for Cape Hatteras during the time we would be rounding that notorious cape. Besides, we all agree that a day’s rest and a cheeseburger would be nice.
May 24
The winds abate once more around 3am so we are motoring on our final approach to Beaufort. Sunrise finds us in considerable traffic as sport fishermen leave Beaufort and Morehead City to try their luck. A strong current slows our progress into Taylor Creek. We have cleared customs, refueled and anchored by noon and are now ready for the cheeseburger.
On our way back to Tarwathie for a nap we see Mike milling around the anchorage looking for a place to set his hook. We must have gone by him during the night as he rested, choosing to take advantage of lighter winds rather then motor.
What follows is the most bizarre occurrence of the entire seven months aboard Tarwathie. When we reached our dinghy and looked out to where we had left Tarwathie, there was nothing. I mean she was gone. I yell to the sailor who was our neighbor and he informs me that she was towed away and points down Taylor Creek in the direction away from town. Dylan goes for the dinghy, Nate and I start walking. Over two miles and thirty minutes away we finally come upon her tied to a marina dock. The marina representative knew little more then that she had been towed in by a couple of home boys working for BoatUS. He says just take the boat but I want to talk to someone responsible for the towing. When the BoatUS supervisor shows up he is loaded with a defense that includes three reported collisions with Tarwathie as she floated down the creek with her anchor hanging straight down, not touching the bottom. I sign a release and take the boat. No further action is necessary.
After re-anchoring Tarwathie in a different location within the anchorage, I row back to our original spot to find out if the sailor anchored near us could shed some light on what had happened. He watched the whole thing. A BoutUS tow boat came upon Tarwathie as she was moving around on her anchor due to a changing tidal current and opposing wind. She was not dragging. The tow boat operators circled around calling for someone aboard and were told our dinghy was ashore by the neighboring sailor. They then went aboard and hauled up our anchor, swearing loudly all the while about freeloading sailors who don’t know what they are doing, causing them grief and taking advantage of the locals. Then, with the anchor still dangling eight feet in the water, they towed Tarwathie away, an act of piracy in Blackbeard’s stomping grounds.
May 25
A lay day, time spent with our buddy Mike and eating two dollar cheeseburgers at a local bar. Other then the towing incident, Beaufort is a great stopover.
May 26
We ride the falling tide out of Beaufort Sound and head for Cape Hatteras. A lovely southerly breeze carries us around Cape Hatteras and well on our way to New England before the wind dies and the fog sets in.
May 28
We are half way to Block Island when the fog shuts in and the winds fail completely. We are also starting to cross shipping lanes leading into New York City.
Thankfully Dylan takes it upon himself to figure out the AIS feature on the VHF radio. This feature identifies vessels with AIS transponders and supplies valuable information about their movement. Dylan contacts the vessel and determine headings that will avoid collision. Pretty cool. Dylan is not impressed by my nonchalance regarding crossing shipping lanes in thick fog during the dead of night. Kids!
May 30
Block Island is just miles ahead as I once again check our fuel level. It looks good. We should make a timely arrival with the help of our motor in a very light breeze.
As it turns out we have all of one gallon of diesel left in the tank when we get to the fuel dock at Block Island. The summer season has yet to arrive at Block Island as we are only one of less than a half dozen boats sharing the well over one hundred moorings in the harbor. On shore everyone is busy getting ready for what must be a frenzied couple of months.
May 31
We are up early with plans to get away shortly so as to arrive at the Cape Cod Canal with the current running in our favor toward Cape Cod Bay. The usual check of the engine vitals reveals the catchment pan beneath the engine full of oil. My first thought is that something in our reassembly of the engine has gone horribly wrong. Further inspection reveals a hole in the rear of the engine block spewing a fine mist of oil when the engine is running. Turns out, after another call to Stan at Beta Marine, that this is an optional port for a dip stick generally closed off with a “blank plug”. The blank plug is missing. Back on shore, I am told that there are no diesel mechanics on the island but maybe Tony can help me. As luck would have it, Tony is a former Westsail owner and a prince of a man. He gives me the keys to his shop and directs me to a dump-bound Datsun suggesting that we might be able to use its dip stick to fashion a plug. That, indeed, is what we do and a couple of hours later then we would have liked, we are rushing, motor-sailing, to get to the Cape Cod Canal before its four knot current turns against us.
June 1
It is just after midnight. The tidal current is just going slack, about to turn, as we approach Cape Cod Bay. We made it through the canal in time. The half moon is bright and there is just enough breeze to try to sail. The air has a New England chill in it. Not far now.
June 2
We have to revert to just the engine again shortly after midnight. We are within striking distance. It is cloudy, no visible moon and foggy. Lobster pots are beginning to appear so from here on out we keep a bow watch, for what it is worth. We are practically on top of them before we see them. Thankfully the sky starts to lighten at 4am.
It’s 5:30, the fog is thinning and Heron Neck on the southeastern end of Greens Island comes into view. Within a half hour we will be tied up at the ferry terminal dock in Carvers Harbor, walking up to the Surfside Cafe for breakfast.
So that is it. We made home after ten days underway, thirteen days total, over 1200 nautical miles traveled from Marsh Harbor to Carvers Harbor. Not without its trials but did I mention the full moon sailing so bright you could almost read a book; or the schools of dolphin flying by, heading somewhere south; and speaking of flying, how about those fish that could very literally fly, changing direction, altitude, in and out of waves and occasionally into the cockpit; or the grey seals so abundant and playful you would a thought you’d happened on a seal nation holiday; but little tops the majesty of several tons of mammal surfacing along side, then disappearing, leaving you desperately searching for just one more glimpse.
Sent from my iPad
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