“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

                                                                                                     
                                                                                                                                      Mark Twain

Not many words here, just some shots from the summer.

Twilight Anchorage

Sand Bar - Hope Island

Town Dock - Penetang

Storm Brewing - Hope Island

Green Water

Feet Enjoying Themselves

A Typical Day of Repairs

(Editor's Note

This is the diary of a typical day of repair on an annoying problem with on-board water pipes. It is penned by Brooke, Chief Mechanic of the Outer-side of the Engine Room. She has this position mainly because she is smaller and can cram herself into the space between the engines and the inside of the hull to work on certain issues. Normally we would get a monkey to do this but as there are none that seem to be able to grasp even the most basic elements of plumbing work (despite months of working with a pretty smart Rhesus named Bosun Boon who we, sadly, had to let go) the job falls to Brooke. Because the Mary Mary was built in Singapore, all the plumbing fixtures native to the boat are of dimensions that can't be dealt with with North American size replacements. Hence, a lot of diddling with make-shifts. We finally got this down to an art a couple of years ago.)

Bosun Boon upon learning he'd been fired

CMOSER Johnson's Diary

Aug 25

I was merrily on my way to Rona on my trusty Rebel, when I remembered, with dismay, that I can’t simply buy an elbow and a coupling for the plumbing repair below the galley sink, because of the odd diameter of the original pipe down in the engine room to which I will have to connect the PEX pipe.  It’s been a couple of years since the fresh water piping was refitted, and I can’t fully recall how I made those odd joints water-tight, aside from the fact that, in one or two cases, a rubber dishwasher drain fixture was fitted with multiple hose clamps and later, on Cappie`s suggestion, we found that barbs and adhesive and crimp clamps did the trick. I’m hoping the barb idea is the one for this job, but even so, it’s going to be another physically cramped job because I will have to fit my body in between the holding tank, the macerator pump, the freshwater pump and the port engine; disengaging the throttle cable and straddling the starter battery en route and then, with the hacksaw and miter box, make a clean square cut on the old black plastic piping, and sand the edges clean of burrs. 

I want to make sure I have all the necessary hardware before disassembling the old pipes and now that the rain has begun I know that I do not.  I’ll need one more elbow and preferably a copper barb…And should the barb be ½ inch on both ends?

I’m going to have a slice of toasted homemade banana bread, and then head down into the engine room for another ponder of it all.

Banana Bread (Not shown to scale)

LATER

Frustrating. It is 3:30 almost, and I can’t really start the work until I get that other elbow and a barb, yet it’s raining like crazy, with thunder and all and I can’t get out to the store. I’ve cut three lengths of PEX and fitted two joints with the hardware that I have but the assemblage is now just sitting on the counter. I don’t dare disassemble the existing plumbing in case it never ever does stop raining. I don’t want to be left not being able to run water at all. And it looks like the rain is going to continue for a couple of days. I suppose I could call a cab but I so don’t want to spend money on that.  Maybe if it eases in the next hour, I’ll walk to the Home Hardware.

LATER STILL

There was a break in the downpour at 4:22, so I donned my foul-weather jacket, hopped on the motorcycle and headed to Home Hardware, which was closed; then went on to Rona, which was closed. The Canadian Tire was open, and I decided to go in, despite the fact that the customer service experts would probably say, “ ‘Elbow’?... An ‘elbow’? You want an elbow for plumbing? Well, I don’t know, I’ve never heard of that….”   Like the time at the store at Lakeshore and Leslie in Toronto, where the kid in the automotive section answered a similar question by saying “Engine paint!? You can’t paint an engine--why would you want to paint an engine?!” And then Cappie went to the next aisle and called back, “Never mind, I found it, way over here in the next aisle.”

Riding back with the parts in my pocket (but paid for) the clouds opened again so I was quite damp when I returned to the marina. The back brake squealed in the wet when I touched it. Still entirely effective, but noisy.

Anyway, the work was completed, by hook and by crook (of the neck, especially), but I didn’t sand or file down the edges of the freshly cut old pipe because I forgot to bring the wherewithal with me and couldn’t bear to make the tight passage again. I don’t want to turn the pump on yet, as I’d like the adhesive that I put on the barb for the old black pipe to cure a bit. I put some Teflon tape on that one side of the barb as well, as it seemed too narrow for the interior dimension of the old pipe. And both sides have a crimp ring. I found the crimper tool in the red toolbox under the step. So there are now three push-fit elbows, a copper barb and crimp rings and some cable ties to keep the fittings secured to the structure.

 

Brooke, practicing getting into the tiny outer-engine area by sticking her head in between two narrow walls, is reacued by passing Japanese boat workers

NEXT MORNING, Aug 26^th

It rained hard and thundered and flashed all night. I had put two large pieces of Cordura fabric across the roof of the stateroom, weighted down to the deck with scuba weight bags and clamped at the top. It seems to have worked to keep the windows from leaking. The aft head window, not covered, has leaked quite a bit, but I have washcloths and rags at the base of the interior window sill so that water doesn’t spilled down the wall, but I have to keep wringing out the cloths.

I switched on the freshwater pump, and so far so good. I can’t detect any leak, but time and pressure will tell.

Ultimately all of the piping will have to be replaced, but maybe we can do that when we get a new water heater, because until we replace the heater we will need the old pipe and its fittings with which to connect it.

It feels good to accomplish these tasks. Little fixes.

It looks from the satellite images online that there is now a good long break from the rain. So I might get out and about a bit. First I should drain the dinghy of water so that there is room in it for the next downpour.

Puss-in-Boats

My name is Oliver. I work as a marina cat here at Hindson. I’m an orange Tom and as such I guess I am a little on the small side for my type. I’d like to be able to say that even though I’m not huge I can punch above my weight class but, alas, that’s not the case as somebody here had me de-clawed. Kind of cuts down on my carousing, if you know what I mean. Plus, the place is full of dogs. They’re supposed to be on a leash but, well hell… you know.

My job is a pretty good one, I have to say. I patrol the yard at night, catching up with small rodents and the like and generally keeping a watch over things. It’s a big yard, but I get around okay. During the day, when the staff is here, I’m pretty much on down-time, you know? I get some food, go for walks and hang out at the bath-house, greeting the guests and sometimes giving them the old belly-ups for some strokes. Seems to make them happy. Sometimes, if I can sneak indoors, I’ll curl up for a snooze. That usually don’t last long though.

Anyhow, I want to tell youse about something that happened the other night. You’ll love this. Generally, I start my rounds around 1 or 2 in the morning. That’s a good time as the boaters are usually asleep by then or passed out from drinking (usually the latter) and I can get about with no interference. (The dogs are all locked up too, the losers). I break the patrol into 4 parts; the house and buildings, the pool and back lot, the northern docks and the main docks. I vary which one I go to when so’s that the rats and mouses don’t figure my schedule and hide up on me.

On this particular night I decided to stroll out onto the main dock around 1:30 in the morning and take a gander. Usually, because dock rodents don’t venture too far from shore, I only make it out as far as the ‘C’ dock split, but this night, there was something different in the air. I noticed it as soon as I got to ‘B’. I couldn't tell what it was at first but after a bit and when I had padded up the dock a ways, I recognized it... cat.

Now, by and large, I’m not a very ‘territorial’ guy by nature. In fact, I used to have a partner at the marina went by the name of Bucky. (The staff called him Ti-Ti for some reason. Haven't figured that one out.) He was a hoot, old Bucky was. He didn't care what anybody thought, he’d climb all over boats some of which I know for a fact had a mutt on them. But that didn't stop old Bucky. Trouble with Bucky was, he’d go over the road to hunt in the bush even though, like me, he had no claws to back him up. I told him a hundred times he’d get into trouble doing that one day. And sure enough, that day came and Bucky was just gone. Word has it a Fisher got him. That would be pretty hard, Bucky ending up as dinner for one of them tree-weasels. Anyhow, now I’m on my own and sometimes I get a hankering to hook up with my own kind. You know how it is. So when I caught that scent on the wind, I just had to investigate. Not angry, you know, just curious.

Fisher maybe like what gots old Bucky

There is a big boat right down the dock at the end where the smaller docks split off. It’s only been here a month but I like the owners. They always say hello and sometimes even give the old tummy a tickle. That’s swell. Sometimes I have to bite their hand to let them know I’m no push-over but, hey, that’s the game.

Well, you could have knocked me over with a mouthful of feathers if that smell I’d been smelling wasn't coming from their boat, the Mary Mary. They were ‘cat people! Well, I sort of knew that, but who figured they actually had one on board?

I hopped over the gunwale onto the deck. For sure there was a cat here and judging from all the hair floating about, there might even be two. And here’s something else. Unless I missed my guess they were females. Even better. Probably ‘fixed’ though, but honestly? I prefer them that way.

The doors were locked up and the lights were off. Most like the cats were inside too. So I took a look up on the bridge. Nothing. Then I noticed that the front hatch was open. I jumped up near the hatch and took a look down. Even with my vision it was too dark to tell. I got a little closer and climbed up onto the bug-screen that covered the hatch hole. Big mistake. That’s when all hell broke loose!

Usually screens are attached by screws or something but this one wasn't, it was just pressed on. I felt the screening begin to give way and before I could get off, the whole thing fell inside the boat with me scrambling to reach up to no avail. I landed hard, feet first of course and wondered how come everything was so soft. Then I smelled that smell. I had landed in the litter! What a break. But where were those cats? And how was I going to get out of here? I looked up at the night sky through the hatch. It was way too high to jump out. I would have to find another way. 

Saved by the box.

All of a sudden I noticed something odd. It was really, really quiet. But I could feel somebody watching me. My hackles were dancing. That don't mean nothing, it just comes natural to guys like me. I slowly mounted the steps into the main salon and could see that there was another stateroom at the rear. I decided to explore there. I got as far as the stairway when I looked up. There on the bench, was a beautiful, white long-hair. Man, she was a knock-out. I wanted to be friendly so I gave her the old grin but she wasn't having any of it. She glared down at me and that’s when I noticed her claws. She still had them! From where I sat they looked like two rows of shining needles right at eye-level. I hoped this wasn't going to get ugly because I could already hear the beginnings of her throat growl. So, discretion being the better part of valour, I hunkered down to the floor and tried to look as submissive as possible. Just to buy time, you know? This seemed to work okay as now the white cat just sat there watching me. (But her tail was doing the four-step the whole time.)

Discovered

I guess the noise of my entry and the subsequent growl had awakened the humans because a light came on and then the guy who owns the boat was right there in front of me. Fortunately, he recognized me. “Hey, it’s Oliver! How did you get in here?” Then there was laughter and I knew that everything was probably going to be all right. The guy was nervous about picking me up though. Must of thought I was freaked out or something. Which I wasn't. And now that the tension was broke, I thought maybe Whitey and I could get to know each other better. But it wasn't to be. To this day I don't know if  there was another cat there. I guess, if there was, she was down lower in the stateroom.

I leaves the boat.

Anyway, the social occasion came to an abrupt end and this owner picked me up (in a fashion that must have made me look like a complete jerk to Whitey). He carried me out and bid me good night and dumped me gently on to the dock. It had been quite the evening and a patrol I wouldn't soon forget. I was exhausted. I decided to forgo the rest of the patrol (I mean, one night, right? What’s the diff?) and I slowly walked off down the dock. I took my time, it wouldn't do to hurry. As I went I raised my tail and bid them aloha, hoping that they would be watching through the windows. They were.

The author at work