From Cumberland Island we backtracked our route to the Ocean through St. Marys River and had a pleasant sail down to St. Johns River. The part that wasn’t pleasant was going full-throttle against the 5-knot “rapids” in the narrow channel under the Atlantic Beach Bridge. Even more scary than Hell Gate in Manhattan.
Our daughters flew back to California from the Jacksonville, Florida airport and we decided to stay put for a while to tackle a long list of stuff to check, fix, tie, plug, glue, seal or lubricate, buy and install, research, organize, redesign or improve, move, dump or clean, including a ton of laundry and some overdue maintenance to parts of our aging bodies.
Dentist
Jacksonville with its world-famous Mayo Clinic is a health hub. We had no excuse not to visit at least a long-time-no-see dentist. Except for the response I got when I started calling: “the next available time is in April”. I have no idea where I’ll be in April. The only thing I know with certainty is that it won’t be here. I kept calling until I got the response I initially wanted, but now I wasn’t so positive it was a good thing: “Sure, the doctor can see you tomorrow”. I could not help but wonder why is it that the doctor does not have a full schedule for the next two months. Oh, well. The risks of being nomadic.
Check the bottom. Twice.
The port engine had been acting up lately, especially when engaging reverse. The whole boat would wobble wildly, a clear sign that some rotating thing was out of balance. I waited for a warm day with an afternoon high tide (mostly arbitrary reasons just to buy time to gather courage) to don my snorkel mask. Facing alligators, flesh-eating bacteria, and who knows what other dangers that lurk in those murky waters, I dove and found the culprit: a piece of line tangled in the propeller.
Two weeks later the new moon low tide was exacerbated by a persistent west breeze that siphoned the water out to the ocean. The already shallow marina ended up with barely two feet of water, and Ñandú planted her feet in the soft mud. Now I have to dive again to make sure the propellers and cooling water intake are clear of mud.
Engines
I took a weekend marine diesel engines class in Fernandina Beach, as part of our quest to be self-sufficient. The class didn’t cover how to “check and adjust the valve clearances”, which, according to the manual, was overdue. Leaving self-sufficiency aside for a moment, I called a professional. Now at least I know where those valves are.
Sound
One of the very first things I did when moving into the boat, five months ago, was to try to impress Kathy with the cristal-clear sound of beautiful music streamed from my phone to the bluetooth sound system. After an hour of cursing and fiddling with arcane settings I managed to get the stereo and my phone speak to each other. But the upgraded super-duper Bose speakers barfed a distorted crap that was to music what the Ecce Homo restoration was to art.
How frustrating. Even more so because I wasn’t sure who to blame. Bose (the speaker manufacturer)? Sony (the stereo manufacturer)? Maine Cat (the installer)? Since I enjoy subjecting myself to multiple-provider fiascoes, I have gained some experience and know that a good approach to make progress is to emphatically and convincingly blame someone until they prove themselves innocent. I started with Bose. I took the speakers to a Bose store demanding an exchange (with no proof of purchase, mind you). They politely connected the speakers to a stereo in their display, and they emitted the most pure sound I’ve heard. Back to the boat I connected the speakers directly to the stereo, bypassing all the wires. The reality of awfully distorted sound stroke again. So, it’s not the speakers, it’s not the wiring… must be the Sony stereo, right? I called Sony and they were willing to exchange the stereo, but I had to send them the faulty one with the original packaging and installation kit, which I didn’t have. So I ordered a new stereo from Amazon with the plan of returning the old one to Maine Cat. Only that the new stereo didn’t make a difference in the sound, so I sent it back to Amazon.
So much for self-sufficiency once more: time to make room for the professionals. It took them all of ten minutes to find and fix the problem. It had to do with the ground connection for the two speakers being mixed together when they shouldn’t… or something like that. All I care for now is that we can finally annoy our neighbors with an eclectic mix of Bob Marley, Manu Chao, Ry Cooder and Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Windsurfing gear
The starboard V-berth had been entirely occupied by windsurfing gear piled on top of the mattress. I finally tackled that eyesore. The smallest sail fit in the anchor locker, and the other three in the bilge, although I’m not sure they will survive the humidity. The two booms are now tied to the transom and the three masts under the dinghy chocks. I found the ideal place for the two smaller boards: tied to the roof… from underneath. The ceiling is now a bit lower in each of the V-berths, but no-one will notice. At least none of the permanent residents. I think. And I still don’t know what to do with the large board. It was painful, but I am now glad I got rid of half of my gear before leaving California.
Bahamas bound
We are still struggling with forms and paperwor of all kinds. We are gathering what we need to enter The Bahamas (including flags that are required to be flown in specific areas of the boat). Kathy called the Bahamas Ministry of Agriculture to clarify what was needed to get Oliver cleared, and she got three different versions from each of the three people she spoke with.
After four months waiting for the boat registration papers the Coast Guard told us that there was an error in the forms and we had to wait another four months after submitting the amended forms. Fortunately, some begging through letters and phone calls got that solved and we finally have the certificate. Otherwise, our Bahamian plans would have been derailed.
We are also beefing up our safety gear. We bought and installed an EPIRB (emergency position-indicating radiobeacon; more forms to fill to register it), and are stocking up on spare parts.
A short bonus track to finish this post.
Why did you cut the ending of the video? Too gory?
Too embarrassing (for Oliver).