Our cruise began with an early start on June 21, following the dictates of the hotsy-totsy computer generated graph showing the currents at the Narrows. By Tuesday we had made it to Vancouver, where Captain Doctor Dubey was presenting a paper at a meeting of the mind benders.
Friday we were on our way again, enroute to Princess Louisa. Okay, now I've been there, I've seen the damn waterfall, cross that off our list. The most memorable event was that in the middle of this pretentiously pristine wilderness, complete with signs to beware the bears, the resident ranger was clearing the pathways and picnic area with a gasoline powered leaf blower!
Our first intimation that all would not remain perfect occurred on our way back through the everybody-and-his-brother reaches, when the auto pilot chose to disengage its various moving parts. After reasoned analysis, judicious application of force, and wrathful invocations, The Tinker arrived at an impasse. After reaching Pender Harbour, calling the Autohelm 800 number, and receiving technical and moral support, The Tinker fixed it! There is now a small piece of green plastic tape hidden in its innards.
Okay, I'm getting to the last day. I will gloss over the little rip in the large jib, necessitating the major use of the small one. We're back at Shilshole; it's Sunday, July 6. We head out of the breakwater, not too early as the hotsy-totsy etc. indicates an afternoon rendezvous under the Narrows bridge. As we are admiring the view of the Space Needle, the engine makes an alarming sound. What ho, it is overheating. Joe discovers a clog in the water intake, and also that the filter screen is disintegrating and gets it going again.
Mrs. Cautious suggests we put up the main, just in case. In case, the noises begin again, the breeze dies, and we admire the view of the Space Needle for a couple of hours while Joe replaces the impeller on the water pump. Juicy's Law: Just because you have found a problem doesn't mean you have found the problem. At last the proper hum and gurgle are achieved, and we aim for Colvos Passage, where the breeze begins to blow.
Whatthehell, let's sail! A comfortable 15 knots apparent, sunny skies, a combination not to be ignored. Several hours later, we are tacking and Joe sees some brown gunk on the sheet. Investigation reveals that it is coming from the deck fitting to the holding tank. We don't know why, we don't know how, we do know what. Well, this is just the sort of job for which the salt-water pump was installed.
After figuring out which of the switches marked “spare” is the right one, we are gratified to find that the pump still works. But not the nozzle, which has been attached for merely two and a half years, and formed a solid, corroded union with the hose. We have another nozzle, and another piece of hose, which barely reaches into the cockpit. By combining hoses, and cutting off the nozzle, we can now reach the affected area. Now we just have to wait for the next starboard tack, after all, we don't want to wash the stuff into the boat.
Hey, that's it. We saw the sunset, and the new moon, and the blue neon glow of the Olympia Oyster House. We were home!
Beth Dubey, Uncle Juicy