We said goodbye to Heather at the tail end of the Dreaded Norther, and we set our sights once again on our new home away from home. We couldn't wait to see Klaus and Annetta again, and really settle in to reveling in the paradise of Manati.
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| Who wouldn't want to get back here as soon as possible? |
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| Those who have been paying attention will notice we didn't make it. |
Our initial plan was to spend the night at anchor inside the Pigeon Keys, where we had so recently taken Heather for picturesque jellyfish-laden snorkeling. The Gloriamaris had tracks into the inner basin, to a nice cove sheltered from wind and waves. Our journey would be split in two, with a delightful overnight stay. But the best laid plans oft go awry.
We passed Port Royal under full sail and looked to have a pleasant run into the anchorage. The wind soon declined and turned foul, however, so we fired up the engine and settled in to motor the final hour. Ten minutes later, the alarm started going off. The temperature gauge was sky high and still climbing, and there was no water coming from the coolant exhaust. We quickly backed the throttle all the way down and put her in neutral. As soon as the engine settled down to idle we shut her down and let the headsail back out. This quickly got the attention of The Parents (praise their undying vigilance), better than any radio hail tends to do. We quickly explained the situation, and decided that the only choice was to pull into the bay at Isla Barbaretta for our anchorage and troubleshooting spot for the night.
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| More perilous than it looks. |
Thankfully, we were experienced at taking a tow. We have both taken turns at the tiller of Bounder when she was towed 20 miles on Lake Michigan, and we've been on the giving end of several more. We quickly had a long leader set up, and Bryna steered us through the reef straight on the Gloriamaris line. We worked around a couple of coral heads and threw out the anchors in 10 feet of water. There was still daylight for the next 20 minutes, so I dove on both anchors in about 3 feet of visibility. After making sure we were both hooked in solidly, I went around to Leap's coolant intake to see what I could see. Something was preventing coolant from reaching the engine, and I was hoping it was on the outside and not in the lines.
After 10 minutes of working with a screwdriver and a flashlight on a boat hull 4 feet underwater in 3 feet of visibility while holding my breath at dusk in a harbor I've never been in before I managed to find something that probably doesn't belong in the intake hose.
Desperately hoping that this was the full and final solution, we fired up the engine. No water, no luck. The problem went deeper, and our night's entertainment was to be an extended troubleshooting session. We went down the list, and decided that we really did not want to tear apart the cooling hose system and check them for blockages one by one. Checking the impeller required less major boat surgery, so we opted for that next. The results were promising.
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| Well there's your problem. |
Our best guess is that we picked up a small piece of pumice floating out with the sargasso weed somewhere in Brick Bay during our prior misadventure, and the restriction shredded the impeller. Thankfully, there were no less than 3 spare impellers on board, and we set about replacing it. This required precise alignment and no less than 4 hands to hold everything in place on the back side of an enclosed engine compartment.
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| And a lifelong love of open engine compartments was born... |
Once the whole intricate process was complete, we tested the engine once again with bated breath. Success! Water flowed plentiful and swift from the coolant exit, and Leap had a working engine once again.
A quick note about Isla Barbaretta. This is a single-owner private island with a small airstrip and a series of well-hidden villas. We anchored in the bay overnight because not only is all water in Honduras considered public property, but we would have qualified under maritime emergency safe harbor rules in any case. The road between the air strip and the villas runs along the water right past the bay in which we were anchored, and the constant light truck traffic and manned transports cemented my impression that the island is definitely a Bond villain lair.
We arose in the early morning and fired up our fully functioning engine to make our own way out of the bay. We had plenty of time and breeze on our hands, so we decided to save some fuel and beat upwind to Guanaja in full race mode. We tried to plan out the long tacks and squeeze every last knot out of the old furler jib.
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| Like so. |
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| 34.3 Nautical Miles in only 7.5 hrs! So, not really race mode. |
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| Close enough for a cruiser |
A couple miles off the West end of Guanaja, we spotted a power boat on station. We looked at the charts and decided they might be divers on a 50' deep sea mount, so we made to steer well clear. We eventually decided that they weren't a diving boat, and were probably fishing instead. It was when they were within several hundred yards of us and still heading straight for us that we began to get seriously worried. We were still in visual and radio contact with the Gloriamaris, but there was still no explanation for this powerboat's behavior. They finally came within about 50 yards of us, and passed right on by. Apparently nosy rubberneckers are everywhere.
We took our now well-worn track back into the El Bight anchorage, and settled in. I declined to dive on the anchor this time due to the very real risk of getting another jellyfish down my shorts. Also the bottom had been previously verified as mortar-thick mud that would hold in a hurricane if the anchor were sideways. We were confident, and headed in to Manati for a reunion.
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| Home sweet home |
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