Our days are growing short here in Pensacola, and we’re working though the final items on our list of boat chores that need completing before we once again point Eagle Too’s bow south. Today we made Eaglet Too legal.
For some people, a stencil and some spray paint or a permanent marker is good enough for applying their dinghy’s registration numbers. You really can’t argue with the thriftiness of that approach. But we’ve always preferred something a little more elegant, I guess because we take a little pride in how our stuff looks. Plus the paint or marker approach usually needs periodic re-application.
We used glue-on number plates from BoatNumberPlate.com on our first dinghy, and they still looked great when we sold her seven years later. So we really wanted to go with the same solution on our new dinghy. The first time around, we used the glue-on version of the product, which we needed to apply with hypalon rubber cement. This time, they offered a self-sticking version, which sounded like a much easier way to go. Plus, have you looked at what a tube of hypalon glue goes for these days? Almost as much as the number plates themselves!
They did qualify that the self-sticking version isn’t recommended for boats that you want to deflate and roll up. But now that we have an aluminum RIB, rolling up the boat really isn’t an option any longer, so we thought we’d give them a try.
These things worked great! We picked a dry, sunny day with temps in the upper 70’s. Then we test fitted the number plates to the boat, and traced the outline of the plate with a Sharpie. Next, we masked the outlined area with blue painter’s tape, and then thoroughly cleaned the spot with an acetone soaked rag so the adhesive on the number plate had a clean surface to grab.
You peel off the paper backing on the number plates, line them up and apply then, being careful not to trap any air bubbles underneath. You need to make sure you get them on straight, because the self-adhesive glue is VERY aggressive.
Peel off the blue tape, apply your state registration sticker to the area provided on the port number plate, and you’re done! No waiting for glue to cure and no mess to clean up. It literally couldn’t be easier.
One last thing. You can order boat number plates directly from the site above, but you can actually save about $5 if you order them through Defender instead. They’ll ship you a small package containing a redemption code that you then use on the manufacturer’s website to order your number plates.
You know what? It’s been quite a while since we’ve given something our Life On The Hook™ seal of approval. I think it’s time to dust that off and use it. This one’s for you, BoatNumberPlate.com!
Spend some time on any Hunter owner’s forum, and you’ll eventually find a thread discussing the dreaded “Why Won’t My Yanmar Start When I Turn The Key?” issue. The problem goes something like this: you turn the key or push the button to start your engine, and it totally ignores you. Or maybe you hear a “click,” but the starter doesn’t engage. Whatever is causing the problem seems to be linked into the boat’s Crisis Detector circuit, because normally the engine will start just fine when it’s a pretty day and you just want to back out of the slip for a short sail, but it will fail to turn over when there’s a squall bearing down on you and you’re being blown onto the rocks while on a collision course with a fuel barge.
We’re not talking here about a significant engine issue, where you’re having a fuel or compression problem or your exhaust elbow is clogged and you can get the engine to turn over but it just won’t start. We’re talking about a transient little electrical problem where the starter solenoid randomly decides it just doesn’t want to do its job today.
It’s really annoying because it comes and goes. Sometimes you can go weeks with the engine starting every time, and then suddenly it just says no. And even though it’s a widely reported problem, it’s one that Yanmar claims they’ve never heard of. Go ahead, call them. They’ll say “why no, we’re not aware of anyone having this problem.” Meanwhile I’ve seen posts by people saying that they’ve complained to Yanmar so many times that they’re looking into a class action lawsuit over the issue due to the potential risk it creates for boat owners when they can’t reliably start their engines.
Some have claimed that the way to fix this problem is to install an additional solenoid in the starting circuit. IF you’ve researched this issue I’m sure you’ve seen this fix. I’m not going to go into detail with that solution , other than to say that I think it’s the wrong approach. You’re not fixing the problem, you’re just treating the symptom, while also adding additional complexity to your starting system. We had this problem on our first boat, a Hunter 336 with a Yanmar 3GM30 engine. Over the last year, it has now also cropped up on our current boat, a Hunter 376 with a 3JH2E. On both boats, the solution turned out to be much cheaper and simpler.
I believe the problem is caused by the fact that the engine control panel is usually quite a ways removed from the engine, and the builder used a long wiring harness to connect the two. The harness is usually pieced together from shorter lengths and has multiple in-line electrical connectors. With two, three, sometimes four or more wiring connectors in the harness run, there are plenty of places for corrosion to develop and introduce resistance in the circuit, causing a voltage drop in the line. You turn the key to start the engine, but not enough voltage makes it to the starter solenoid to engage it. I think the reason the problem comes and goes is because electrical resistance across a corroded connection can vary due to changes in temperature or humidity. Today might be OK, but not so good tomorrow.
So how did we fix the problem? But running a separate, continuous #10 wire from the engine start switch all the way to the starter solenoid. This eliminates all the in-line electrical connectors with their potentially voltage-sapping corroded pins.
Engine control panel removed from pedestal, original starting circuit wire removed from start switch. Haven’t crimped a ring terminal on the new wire yet in this picture.
Chasing the wire from the engine control panel in the cockpit to the starter solenoid on the engine is the hard part, usually involving some cabin disassembly and a lot of wiggling into dark places. Once the wire is run, however, it’s a pretty simple task to crimp the proper ring connector on the switch end and a disconnect fitting on the solenoid end and substitute the new wire for the old one.
New wire attached to starter solenoid.
Put some insulating shrink tubing on the ends of the old wire to keep it from causing problems and protect the new wire with some plastic wire loom, using a few zip ties to make sure it stays where you want it, and you’re in business.
I followed the exhaust hose for part of the run.
This fix has worked great for us on two boats now. If you’ve having a similar problem (and I think many of you with older Yanmars probably are), then give it a try. I think you’ll be pleased with the results. And it’s such a relief to no longer have to wonder “what kind of mood are you in today, Mr. Engine?” when you reach for that switch.
They do if you have a Mantus. They’re terrific anchors that grab quickly and hold you in place like you’re welded to the bottom. But to make them easy to ship, they come in three pieces that you bolt together. And after three years of use, I just didn’t like the way the bolts on our 55 lb Mantus were looking. Loose scaly rust was developing on the ends.
First bolt removed
Now these aren’t your typical Home Depot variety galvanized steel bolts. They’re grade 5 high strength fasteners. Fortunately, Mantus sells a replacement bolt package for just a few bucks (real bucks, not boat bucks!), which can be ordered from their website.
The bolts arrive with a package of Lanacote to apply to them to add corrosion protection. It’s been three years since I put The Beast together, and I’d forgotten that little fact. But when I took a wrench to what I thought were rusty bolts, they actually released very easily, and once removed, I could see that the threads and body of the bolts were pristine. The Lanacote had done a good job of protecting them, and they probably didn’t need to be replaced. The rust was limited just to the exposed ends. But for the minor expense involved, it was worth it for the peace of mind.
Next, our Crosby 3/8″ shackle was looking a little corroded. I’ve always been conscious of the fact that the safety and security of our entire boat depends on this tiny piece of metal when at anchor, which is why we only use Crosby shackles for this vital role. It took all of five minutes to swap out the old one for a new one (we carry several spares onboard) and mouse it with stainless steel wire.
All bolts replaced and a new shackle added
Finally, it was once again time to re-mark the first 100 feet of our anchor rode. We’ve tried a variety of ways to mark the chain so that we know how much we pay out when anchoring. The cheapest and easiest way we’ve found is to just spray paint a mark on the chain every ten feet. We’ve tried several different types of paint, from fluorescent marking paint to galvanized steel primer before finally settling on white Rustoleum automotive enamel. Nothing holds up in salt water for more than about six months. But it’s only about an hour’s work to lay the first 100 feet of chain on the dock and repaint it.
And with that, we’re another step closer to starting Season 4 of our Life On The Hook™. 🙂
Hurricane Michael grew to be the third most powerful hurricane to ever make landfall in the US, But being on the “good” side of the storm made all the difference in the world for us. The conditions we saw pretty much matched my expectations. Winds topped out at 35 knots (40 mph), a bit of rain, but nothing too unsettling. For once, the worst of it came during daylight hours instead of in the middle of the night, which was a pleasant change from the usual state of affairs.
Now that the storm has passed, I think I did just the right amount of boat preparation for the conditions encountered. The only “hardship” I experienced was that the dockmaster cut the power to the marina at about 9PM last night, because he was afraid that the storm-surge-driven rising water would reach the marina power distribution boxes and flood them. So I had to spend the night without air conditioning. Oh the humanity!!!
It’s only been a few hours since the storm passed, but already the sun is peeking out and the wind has dropped to a gentle breeze. It won’t take long at all to have everything back in its proper place, and the forecast says this weekend is supposed to be beautiful, which means we might spend it out on the hook somewhere. Hopefully we’ll hear soon from others we know who were (or may yet still be) closer to the center of the storm. Meanwhile, the airport is supposed to be reopening tonight, which means Rhonda should be returning tomorrow from her trip out of town. I have to compliment her on her timing. It was a good week to be someplace other than the Gulf coast of Florida.
We’ve been living on the Florida Gulf coast long enough to know that you can’t turn your back on the Gulf in October. While the Atlantic hurricane season is wrapping up, with fewer tropical waves rolling off the coast of Africa and developing into storms, conditions in the Gulf are still ideal for cyclogenesis. Some of the northern Gulf coast’s worst storms have been October storms.
So here we are with a monster Category 3 hurricane named Michael roaring towards us. Three days ago it was just a blob of thunderstorms off the Yucatan. But as proud members of Drunk Donkey Nation (as the half–million followers of Mike’s Weather Page are now known), we’ve been following this system for almost a week and knew it was going to be something big.
What to do about it was the question. It’s easy to underreact to an approaching storm, but it’s equally easy to overreact. Our hurricane plan is to move Eagle Too to the very well protected marina at Pensacola Naval Air Station in the event that Palafox Pier and Yacht Harbor, where we spend our summers, declares a mandatory evacuation. We have access to the Navy base due to our military affiliation. But if Palafox Pier doesn’t force us to leave, we don’t, primarily because we’ve already paid for the slip here. Moving to the base costs us several hundred dollars for a three to four day stay, and as thrifty cruisers, we’d rather not spend that money if we don’t have to. Plus we’re really just moving from one marina with floating docks to another a couple of miles away, so it hardly seems worth it if we don’t have to do it. And a haulout? Forget it. We’re not full time residents here in Pensacola anymore. Since we spend seven months or more of every year somewhere else, we’re not going to pay the thousands of dollars necessary to get on Pensacola Shipyard’s hurricane haul out list. And if you’re not on their list, you don’t get hauled out, plain and simple.
Our frustration always comes from waiting to see what Palafox Pier is going to do. They finally declared a “voluntary evacuation” yesterday. I had to go to the marina and ask them what exactly that was supposed to mean. I interpreted it as “leave if you want, but stay if you’d like,” which is just another way of saying “business as usual.” But I guess maybe it gives them some liability protection if you stay and your boat gets broken by something in the marina. After all, they did tell you to “voluntarily evacuate.”
Regardless, if the evacuation was voluntary, we weren’t volunteering. Besides, as it just so happens, my first mate and lovely wife (that’s one and the same person just in case you weren’t sure) is up in Virginia visiting family this week. That means I’d be voluntarily evacuating by myself, which I’d rather not do. Not that I haven’t had several sincere offers of assistance, but I just don’t like moving Eagle Too without Rhonda at the helm, as I’ve grown accustomed to her hand on the wheel.
So here’s what I knew about Michael. Ever since he formed, the models were consistently taking it to our east. That meant we’d be on the “good” side of the storm, with winds coming from the north, off the land. The friction of blowing past trees and buildings would slow the wind significantly. Next, even though the predictions wobbled around a bit, it was pretty evident that there was firm agreement among the models. The eye of the storm was unlikely to get closer to us than about 75 miles. That’s a long way, even for a big hurricane. We’ve been though about a dozen of these in the last couple of decades, and my experience told me that the distance plus the wind direction probably meant we’d never see more than 45 or 50 knots of wind, even from a Category 3 storm. Possibly quite a bit less. Working in our favor is that we’re docked right below a three–story building that would block a lot of the wind, and our bow is pointed east, which means our dodger and bimini were at a good angle to shed the wind rather than catch it.
So what preparations did I make to hit the sweet spot on the under/over prepared scale? First, I decided not to take the sails down. Our mainsail furls inside the mast, so it’s basically impervious to wind. And we’ve ridden out 50+ knot winds in squalls with the jib furled and it never started coming loose. But just to add some extra insurance, I took about a dozen wraps around the furled jib with our spinnaker halyard, candy-striping the line down the length of the sail to keep it from trying to unfurl.
Eagle Too in her Ready For Tropical Storm Force Winds configuration
I also decided not to strip our dodger and bimini. I did take the sun covers off the dodger, because they were only loosely attached. But we over-engineered the dodger and bimini frame, using only steel rail rather than straps for support, and I knew it could handle 50 to 60 knots with no problem, especially with the wind coming from the bow initially, then shifting to the port side.
Not a good day for sailing
Next, I made sure our dinghy was well tied down with both ratchet straps and lines, and then removed all the loose gear on deck and brought it below. Solar lights, water hose, chairs and cushions, all the little things hanging around topside that could get torn lose got stowed.
I also doubled the lines and rigged all our fenders, and put bungees on several lines that I know like to slap in a gale. It’s hard enough trying to sleep during a good blow. It’s even harder when lines are slapping away like crazy.
We’d have naturally done more if Pensacola was Michael’s destination. We’ve been in a Category 3 hurricane; Hurricane Ivan back in 2004, and I have a great deal of respect for the power of such a storm. But my gut (and the data at spaghettimodels.com) has been telling me that Michael had other plans. So I feel good about our approach to this storm. We’ll see in a couple of days whether I chose wisely…
Some thoughts: this irked me a bit. The marina insists that all the boaters make sure they’ve removed any loose gear that can become airborne from the docks. But then they park their work barge just upwind of our dock, covered with loose gear that can become airborne.
Yes, that’s a machete sticking out of that sawhorse. A sawhorse that’s just sitting there, because I could push it and it would rock.
And it’s always a gut check when you see out of state power crews staging their equipment for the upcoming recovery effort.
I think we’ve adequately prepared. I really feel for the people in Panama City, Port St Joe and Apalachicola, because I think their lives are about to be profoundly affected. For now, here’s the calm before the storm…
