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Mark,
Here is that story I was telling you about at the shop. I
figured I may as well email it to you. If you get a chance to read it this
weekend you can let me know what you think on Monday. Enjoy yourself,
Jason
(umpire gesticulating wildly)
Ladies and Gentlemen,
The story you are about to here is not for the faint of
heart. It is also not exactly short and will require some few moments to
read. It is true, and if anything, hardly conveys the stark reality of
events. I hope you enjoy reading it and welcome any comments.
Imagine if you will two weeks of bliss, beautiful weather,
beautiful cars, beautiful people and a vista unmatched in my experience(at
least of city skylines)! Now place two men in this picture and add the
second coming of Murphy himself/herself(sign of the times) and a heavy
dose plain old bad luck. That is how our unfourtunate adventurers begin
their tale.
It is Monday, 7:00 AM, a beautiful cloudless day. The sun is
just streaking over the horizon as the dinghy pulls into the dock. A young
man jumps out with a book and takes a seat on a nearby park bench. As he
opens his book, a bird sings, as a heron catches his breakfast in the
shallows just behind the bench. Within a half hour a cab pulls up and
another man jumps out. Together they climb into the dinghy and head out to
the anchorage.
As they approach the sailboat the talk is of the anticipated
journey across the Gulf Stream. They have waited for an opportunity to
cross and today is that day, a perfect day.
The baggage is stowed below decks as they ready to depart.
They start up the diesel engine and haul out the anchor. Just as they are
set to sail off into Biscayne Bay they notice the dark smoke emanating
from below the decking. The engine is quickly shut off and the anchor is
dropped again. With a flurry of swearing they proceed below to check on
the damage.
Both men are on their knees surveying the 50 horsepower
engine stuffed below them. It is hot and the fumes are enough to make them
feel sick. After a number of routine checks they notice a bolt is missing
from the exhaust manifold. The engine has been leaking oil and water. A
simple repair, replace the missing bolt and they will be off.
Returning to shore they stop for a coffee and muffin before
proceeding to a local hardware store. No luck, they do not have the
correct size bolt. They hail a cab and within thirty minutes have all that
they feel they need. The cab driver is from Cuba and casually explains
that Castro had JFK assassinated. It is still early, but nothing can
surprise them now.
Three hours later, our two adventurers have disassembled the
exhaust manifold and have found what they feel is the root of their
problem. The bolt did not fit and now they know why. The old bolt snapped
and is plugging the hole. It will have to be tapped. They disagree on the
next course of action. One feels they should call a mechanic, the other
feels they can complete the repair on their own. A return to shore is in
order.
It is approaching two thirty as they arrive at the dinghy
dock for the third time since the morning. They are starving and decide to
order some lunch. As they are eating they discuss the best course of
action. They will need transportation by cab or by rental car. A call is
placed to Enterprise and the car will be sent out when they have finished
their lunch. At ten after three, they call back to request the car. It is
to arrive in twenty minutes. Both men head to the valet parking to await
the car. Time passes and the car does not arrive. Another call is placed
and then another. It is ten after four and rush hour is fast approaching.
The parts store closes at five. They need a ride. They see a passing cab
and hurriedly flag it down, the car company will not get their business
today or in the future. As they jump into the cab they glance at their
watches and hope they have not left it too late.
The driver sets off at a frenetic pace weaving through
traffic as if it was a slalom course. Finally it seems they have caught a
break. They are confident they will reach the store in time. Seconds
later, the words still hanging in the air, the car pulls to a stop. Rush
hour is upon them. The next twenty five minutes pass at a snails pace.
They will not be able to reach the store before it closes. In a
desperation attempt they decide to try a closer dealer in the hope they
will have the part in stock.
The store clerk is in no rush. The cab is parked outside with
the meter running. Four gaskets are purchased for $1.25 each. The cab fare
has already run to $41.00. Despite the cost, both of them feel lucky to
have made it to the store on time. Time is no longer a limiting factor.
Their next stop is Home Depot, one stop shopping open everywhere, all the
time. They stroll out of the cab in high spirits ready to conquer the
remainder of the day.
Home Depot lives up to its billing. The service is prompt and
the advice is excellent. The missing pieces are filled in and they are
confident they can tap the blocked bolt. They hail a final cab with four
titanium drill bits, a power drill, a tap, the tap kit and one pair of
safety goggles. Within twenty five minutes they are back at Monty's Bar
ordering dinner. It is only a matter of time before the engine is up and
running and they are under way to the Bahamas. They tentatively settle on
an 8:00 AM start.
Back at the boat, the engine is still in pieces. They ready
their tools and start drilling into the bolt. By consensus, they decide to
start with the small drill bit and save the larger one as something to
fall back on. They take turns drilling into the bolt and the going is
slow. The first bit breaks like a twig and they are forced to use the
spare. After an hour or so they manage to drill through. The tap is
readied. The two dollar tap screw is too large for the tap. It spins in
the head and will not grab. The younger man tries to use a wrench and
learns a wonderful lesson about leverage and torque. The tap snaps in two,
cleanly replugging the whole. Profanity ensues.
After a short time, they set back to work with the large bits
attempting to duplicate their initial success. Another hour passes before
they manage to drill through for the second time. They reinsert the tap
and try their luck again. This time the head does not spin. There is a
chance this may all work out after all. The tap turns, but the bolt does
not. The bolt is stronger material than the tap and it strips the tap.
They have failed, although not from a lack of effort. They reassemble the
engine with the new gaskets and hope for the best. It is now 2:30 AM and
they are both very tired. Sleep is the only thing left to do.
Tuesday 8:30 AM, they have eaten and are ready to try the
engine. The ignition is fired and immediately the engine rev's at two
thousand RPM's. That is only 1500 RPM's higher than the day before. Out
come the manuals and the hunt begins anew. They readjust the valves for
air, check the coolant, the cables, the plugs and anything else close at
hand. They notice that by pulling the kill switch they are able to lower
the RPM's. Not a solution, but, it beats entering the canals at top speed.
They have long since given up on the Bahamas and are simply trying to limp
back to Ft. Lauderdale. It is close to 11:00 AM before they agree to make
do with their Gerry rigging. It will have to do.
Without power they will have to weigh anchor while sailing.
Fourtunately, the boat behind them has taken off for the Bahamas earlier
and the way is relatively clear. They run through the plan one last time
and man their stations.
The anchor is hauled aboard and the sails set. They deftly
maneuver out of the anchorage as if that had been the plan all along.
Finally, a smashing success. With renewed vervour they begin to tack
across Biscayne Bay. The wind is from the East, directly in their faces.
It will make for a tediously slow crossing of the Bay. However, once in
the ocean, it will allow them smooth sailing right back to Port
Everglades. They are elated, their luck is finally changing.
On the their last tack before leaving the Bay, the wind dies
and changes direction. They are in irons and without the engine they
cannot leave the Bay. The coolant is filled and the First Mate stays below
whilst the Captain starts the engine. Immediately, water streams from the
holes and pours into the bilge. Nothing can be done. After ten minutes the
engine is shut off. They need to refill the tank with water. Dawning oven
mitts, the younger man pries off the top. It sprays vapor and surges
towards his face. The cap feels like it would blow and hit the ceiling.
Cursing, and more than a little concerned, the tank is refilled with
water. They have made it to the final leg of the channel. It is clear
sailing in about one kilometer.
Below deck the young man is preparing lunch, when suddenly,
the ship pitches forward and a plate flies from the counter. What now he
wonders? Running quickly above he hears the now familiar sound of
literative profanity. They have run aground on a sand bar not 500 meters
from the mouth of the Bay.
The overheating engine is once again engaged and thrown
violently into reverse. It makes a metallic gurgling sound, engages and
promptly spues black oil from the stern. Now what? They attempt to
maneuver off of the sand bar to no avail. It is a rising tide, they will
just have to wait and let the cards fall where they may.
They sit down to pizza with a picturesque view of Stiltsville
to Starboard and the lighthouse to Port. It is roughly an hour before they
notice that the boat is drifting. Rushing to their stations, they engage
the engine and are back under way.
Finally free of Biscayne Bay they plot a rough course South
Southeast at around 150 degrees and plan on sailing out to the Gulf
Stream. The world's largest Nautical conveyer belt will add speed on their
return journey. It is almost four o'clock and they are tired. The Captain
goes below to try and catch a moment of shuteye.
They have been under way for half an hour and the sailing is
great. They are sailing close to the wind, too close. With the Captain
below, the First Mate loses the wind and finds himself in irons. He waits
a minute to see if the ship will right itself. No luck. He cranks up the
engine and regains his course. The Captain shoots above deck to check on
the problem. With shaken confidence, the Captain settles into the cockpit,
there will be no sleeping now.
After two hours, they make their next tack and head almost
due North. The wind has picked up and they are close enough to the Stream
to add a few knots. They settle back, and for the first time, begin to
enjoy the day. The weather is perfect, the view of the Coast spectacular.
As the sun sets, they muse over it's beauty and all their troubles fade
with the setting sun. It is now only a matter of time before they will
dock behind the house and sleep soundly on shore.
It is approaching 9:00 PM, and they have arrived at the
beginning of the Chanel to Port Everglades. They will sail their way in,
tacking as often as needed. For the last five hours they have been the
only boat at sea. As they approach the harbour they notice a freighter
fast approaching. Another debate ensues. Race the freighter or tack out of
the way. The choice is made and within 60 seconds the freighter steams by
in the channel. They resume their course and head inland. Shortly
thereafter, they are hailed, and asked to move as far over as possible as
another freighter is leaving the Glades. Two large freighters in,
seemingly, as many minutes.
Having navigated the channel they are fast approaching the
first, of two, bridges. SE 17th Street Causeway looms ahead. Amidst a
shower of sparks they notice that the way is blocked by a huge floating
barge, complete with crane and crew. The bridge is up, they are almost
home free.
The radio crackles and they are informed that the bridge is
closed until 7:00 AM the following morning. Unbelievable. So close and
still so far. The channel is deep and there are cruise ships and
freighters docked all around them. They will have to anchor in the
channel. Just then the younger man spots a house under construction
complete with a dock. Why not tie up to their dock? After a moments pause,
they head towards the dock. Within twenty meters of shore the boat lurches
to a halt. They have run aground again. The water has gone from over 40
feet to less than six. They are no more than eight feet from a large steel
channel marker. Another litany of profanity ensues.
Again it is a rising tide and they will just have to let
providence decide their fate. Within 15 minutes, they drift off back into
deeper waters. They decide to drop all of their chain and call it a night.
By the time they have eaten it is almost midnight. They both go below to
sleep the sleep of the dead.
The alarm sounds at 6:30 AM on Wednesday. They eat cereal and
discuss the plan. With a strong current they will have to time everything
perfectly in order to pass the bridge successfully. Promptly at seven they
radio the Causeway for an opening. No response. Two radio calls and a half
hour later the bridge opens at the request of a boat heading out to sea.
They weigh anchor and head for home.
Last night, they had an East wind of around 10-12
knots. This morning they have a North wind of 2-3 knots. Long past
surprise they will just have to make due, by sailing when they can and
motoring when forced, they crawl along the canals. The engine is leaking
less, the gaskets have sealed under the heat of running. Keeping a close
eye on the coolant levels they limp towards home. Under sail they often
appear to be standing still. With all they have been through, they do not
think to assess the tide until they are almost upon the shallows. There is
nothing to be done, if they run aground they will just have to wait.
Rounding the final turns they hold their breath and brace for
the inevitable. After all that has happened, they hardly expect to arrive
home without incident. Murphy must have become bored with their plight and
moved on to another group of hopefuls. Passing through the shallows, they
deftly tie up behind the house.
They have made it home. The future may bring what it will, but, for the
moment, they feel victorious and vindicated. They have passed the test,
endured many hardships and are the proud new owners a beautiful adventure
that will no doubt grow larger and more colourful as the years go by.
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