September 27th - This posted by Brooke

Motoring along

It was a bit cold this morning when I slipped out from beneath the covers. Or, more precisely, was tugged out by Huxley’s insistent meowling. She spent a good deal of time under the duvet during the wee hours.  Adrian left for the city yesterday just after noon, which partly explains why it was extra cold in bed. He had two recordings to do, one session yesterday was at Pirate Studios where he records a series called Almost Naked Animals, voicing characters named, Shrimp, Radiation Rooster and Mouse Howie, and this morning he’ll be playing Armand, the very theatrical Sasquatch in a show yet to be aired called Camp Lake Bottom recorded at Studio 306.

Mister Huxley takes Cappie for a walk

The other explanation for the cold is that it is the end of September and the frost has hit.  And it’s taking a while to heat up the cabin because the shore-power breaker keeps snapping off. At first I thought it was because I had the kettle on, and then realized that the house battery is charging from shore and that requires about 75 amps.  Another thing I’m thinking is that the pump for the water-cooled heating system may well be clogged and is working too hard.

Rory in snow gear as temperatures for September crash

Yesterday I checked the strainer basket for the fridge pump. The fridge had been making more clatter than normal and the trickling sound was more noticeable than the usual strong, smooth and quiet pour—and, if you’ve read the blog to now, you’ll know that we’ve had a lot of weed issues this voyage.  The fridge-pump strainer basket was completely stuffed with weeds, and I had to remove the intake hose to flush it out as well….so I wonder if there might be the same issue with the strainers for the heater and maybe the generator and engines too.  After coffee I’ll have a look at the heat pump baskets at least.

Adrian had sanded the last of the trim while I was away in Prince Edward Island, and so I  put a coat of Timber oil on some of it (which we apply before the endless coats of Epifanes varnish). Couldn’t do much of that work though, because of my crummy neck and shoulder muscles. The overhead work is especially bad because it seems to pinch some nerves and gives pins and needles in my hand.

The house battery is charged to its supposed 12.6 volts, so I’ve switched off the charger and am trying the heat one more time before going down into the engine room to draw up the cold, wet, cloggy strainers.

The bilge pump and cold, wet, cloggy freshwater strainer baskets

These last few days have the horrible hanging doom feeling. The feeling when you know there’s to be no more voyaging, only packing and preparations for haul out and winter and 8 months before you leave port again. We have the 25 litres of oil at the ready for the winterizing and the new oil filters. And Adrian is bringing back several large jugs of antifreeze.

Actually there will be one more short voyage, back up through Lock 45 to the pump-out station to clear our holding tank. 

And we’ll likely relish every moment of that jaunt.

These summer months seem so much richer than the rest—even the tough or dreary days are fragrant with the joy that comes with 'doing'. I will miss the coiling of the heavy, wet lines in the rain, the swapping fenders for various dock and lock walls, the discussion of approach choices, taking turns clunking around in the engine room jump-starting the port engine from the starboard battery with the torturous Jumper Cables of Death (they weigh about 25 pounds, are 12 feet long and impossible to keep untangled).  

I really will miss that.

Mister Huxley and I  enjoying the voyage

Maybe it’s because it is hard physically, and often challenging mentally, and while there are many things in our life that are taxing and anxiety ridden and, yes, dreary (certain auditions), this hard physical work on-board and the experience we’ve gained — often with  certain accompanying skills — is a source of supreme pleasure for me. And it is something that, for the most part, we do together. We have puzzled out a number of system issues this year. It took us several hours over two days, but together we fixed the fuel-lift pump issue on the port engine before this spring’s launch; and, before launch we installed new window sliders in three window casements, as the old ones were growing forests of moss, and in the process we each broke the same window, (Adrian broke the pane when removing it from the frame, and I broke the replacement pane while re-installing it). We scraped, sanded, caulked and painted the aft head and the stateroom. Adrian did the lion’s share of the sanding and varnishing of the teak rails and trim and refinished the top of the big salon table, while I learned to sew futon covers, pillows and a pile of pleated curtains, then a screen for the salon door and a cover for the barbeque.

While underway we took turns in the engine room to fix (repeatedly, mind you) the air conditioner when it was 37 degrees Celsius inside; and also repaired what was sometimes a strainer issue and then became a wiring issue on the refrigerator when it was 38 degrees inside (Both the AC and the fridge are water cooled, and the water in the canal was 80 degrees this summer, so as a coolant it wasn’t doing the trick); there were so many other tasks and triumphs, but I can’t remember them all now, except to say that the marine surveyor gave us glowing report and said he’d never seen a cleaner bilge…. 

Rory says "OMG, it's hot outside!" (Yet he still dresses in black)

(We know after the issues in July that we need a whole new battery bank. Adrian has deduced that we don’t have the proper working isolators, as the system is continually draining the batteries. The electrical set up is old and the mess of wiring is the result of too many hands, so we may have to get an expert in to simplify that whole system.) 

With the work we do ourselves, I love being able to actually see, hear and feel the result of our own labour. It ain’t the same when you do a performance, this work is in no way ethereal. It’s solid and right there in front of you:  well-greased, shiny-ish, and running smoothly…with occasional help from the torturous Jumper Cables of Death.