Part II: "Narrow Escape" Returns to Long Beach

Ensenada harbor with brush fire smoke visible in center distance.

It was hot in Ensenada on Sunday, April 27. Winds blowing southwest off the desert mountains made the air dirty, fed a huge brush fire southeast of the city, and earlier allowed racers to make it to the finish line of the Newport to Ensenada Race along the shorter shoreline route.

After a lazy brunch on the patio of the Hotel Coral, my three remaining crew and I motored "Narrow Escape" to the hotel marina fuel dock. Geoffrey Vanden Heuvel, our fifth crew member, had arranged a ride back home Sunday morning with a friend who raced down in a trailerable trimaran.

We had arrived with about one-fourth of my 20 gallons of gasoline left, after motoring from Long Beach to Newport Beach, motoring about 10.5 hours during the night, and then another five hours into Ensenada after we decided to abandon the race.

I wanted to calculate my fuel consumption, but it was not to be. The gas pump at the Hotel Coral Marina was broken. (The diesel pump was working). The fuel dock crew gave me a couple of jerry cans and told me to take a taxi to a service station in town. The cover for the vent hole on one can was missing, so I had to stop at four gallons instead of five. As a result I added about nine gallons, which gave me plenty to cover the 66 nm back to U.S. Customs and then to the Shelter Island fuel dock in San Diego.

Everyone has to stop at the Shelter Island police dock and clear customs. It was beautifully organized this year and maybe the new passport rule was part of the reason. Although you can still return to the U.S. from Mexico without a passport, you must show a driver's license and a birth certificate to do so. I gave my crew plenty of warning to get their passports renewed if needed, and did so myself.

The U.S. Customs Master's Oath was supplied in the Skipper's Packet by the Newport Ocean Sailing Association (www.nosa.org) which does an impeccable job of running the Newport to Ensenada Race every year with its all-volunteer committee. The form provided a space to enter each crew member's passport number as well as other identifying information.

With all of us on deck, all that was necessary was to approach the dock, bow first, and hand the customs officer the yellow form. He quickly scanned it and gave the bow a shove to send us on our way. I suspect that we would have had to stop and he'd have come aboard, however, if there had not been a passport number on the form for each of us. Prior to the race I had submitted a crew list, with nationality, to NOSA, and that information had been conveyed to both Mexican and U.S. authorities.

After that mandatory stop, virtually everyone heads for the fuel dock and the short-order eatery upstairs. I then was able to calculate fuel consumption, which had been .67 gal/hr since leaving for the race start.

My tactician, Nate Tucker, left the boat at the fuel dock to meet his wife who drove down to pick him up so he would be home to meet relatives on their way to visit.

After refueling, its either a non-stop bash home or a leisurely cruise. I've opted for the leisurely cruise ever since doing the non-stop bash the first year I entered the race.

For me, that means rounding Point Loma after refueling and spending the night in Mission Bay. Tuesday is a motorsail to Dana Point for the night. Then back to Long Beach on Wednesday. This year I had a slip reservation at Marina Village in Mission Bay and a guest side tie at Dana West Yacht Club the following night. DWYC is dark on Tuesday nights. But nearby Dana Point Yacht Club is open for its Taco Tuesday night, and boy was that delicious.

A highlight of the Mission Bay stay was seeing my long-time friends, Bob Dickson and his wife, Elsa. I've known Bob since junior high school and we've shared many adventures, and a couple of boats. They drove me and my two remaining crew, Hobby Hobson and Pax Starksen, to a great dining spot in San Diego's Old Town district. The Dickson's had been at their Ensenada condo on Saturday watching the boats stream in all day, wondering which one was mine. It was fun to be able to show it off to them up close.

The Sunday night motorsail up from Ensenada had been pretty easy. It was even warm at times when the offshore wind reached us. We stood watches of two hours on and two hours off, with a new person coming on watch every hour to break up the monotony.

The only excitement of the return trip came just as I was coming on watch at 2 am. Hobby was in the cockpit and making a 20-degree course change to starboard to follow our planned route up the Baja California coast. He punched the 10-degree button twice on the Raymarine ST2000+ tiller autopilot and it "exploded". The piston shot to port and kept going, falling out of the unit body to the cockpit sole. The boat did a wild turn before it was brought under control.

No problem. I have an older version of the same auto pilot as a backup. It was quickly put in place and cockpit life returned to normal.

I later discovered that all that happened was that the control shaft somehow had unscrewed itself inside the autopilot housing. I screwed it back in place tightly. It tested perfectly and I expect many more years of trouble-free service.

Autopilot disassembled. "Exploding" shaft is beside the uncovered unit.

Stainless shaft had unscrewed from bronze driver

Autopilot fixed

Pax left the boat in Mission Bay on Tuesday and Hobby and I made the rest of the trip, all in daylight hours, alone.

There were a couple of exciting episodes, however.

Late Tuesday afternoon, the outboard suddenly lost rpm and began running rough. I looked back and saw the oil pressure warning light glowing bright red.

Immediately shutting off the engine, I found it fairly easy to stretch out well beyond the stern pulpit, remove the engine cowling and pull the dip stick out for inspection. No sign of oil on it. I carried extra oil. The oil filler plug is at the rear of the engine. It is about an inch in diameter and it was possible to pour oil into the filler hole without spilling. I stopped a couple of times to check the level with the dip stick. I was surprised to find that the oil sump took the full 800 milliliters of oil that is the engine's specified capacity. The outboard restarted immediately, idled normally, and ran fine after that.

I have chosen to call this event an environmentally-friendly oil change. It is done by running the engine dry so that a full change of oil can be poured in.

Joking aside, I'm more than a little impressed that the Tohatsu was able to make use of every last drop of oil before it signaled its distress. Signal is what it did, too. Reading the owner's manual later I found that in case of low oil pressure, even intermittently, it slows and runs rough to get the operator's attention. Sure worked for me.

What I don't know, is where the oil went. I had checked it in Ensenada, but may not have wiped the dipstick and replaced it for an accurate check. The oil level was fine again in Dana Point the morning after this incident, and again the next afternoon when we reached Long Beach, a total of about five more hours of operation.

During the race we had been bothered with difficulty unfurling the jib. Each time I found that the furling line had jumped out of its drum guard and wrapped around the top of the drum. It was easy to clear at the bow of the boat, however, and I didn't try to fix it until we got to Mission Bay.

I decided that the furling line fairlead attached to a leg of the bow pulpit had loosened and worked itself too high. So I moved it down and put a hose clamp around the stanchion leg above it to prevent recurrence.

We didn't use the jib until Wednesday, however. That was when Hobby and I attempted to unfurl it and it jammed tightly on the drum and couldn't be budged. The jib was only part way unfurled.

This time I read the furler manual before "fixing" it. I had put the fairlead far to low on the stanchion.

Equipped with a set of metric allen head wrenches and screwdrivers for the hose clamp and the fairlead I made my way to the bow, which was bouncing in boisterous wind-driven seas. Opposing machine screws secured the two-piece line guard to the base of the drum, not far off the deck of the bow. The manual had cautioned that the screws were "not captive", meaning that they would fall out when loosened and probably be lost.

I carefully unscrewed one and put it securely in my jeans pocket. As soon as I started loosening the other, the guard fell from the drum. The second screw still held the two parts together, but I discovered that I could manipulate them enough to remove the guard from drum and unwind the furling line that had taken three very tight wraps around the bottom of the shaft that held the drum in place.

The allen screws are visible at bottom of the furler drum guard. The guard had been mounted too low on the drum, allowing the line to squeeze above or below it and jump out of drum.

Improperly positioned fairlead initially forced line to wrap at top of drum and then pop out of guard. After I first repositioned it by guessing the proper position, it directed the line to wrap at the bottom of the drum and then jump out and wrap tightly underneath drum. Photo shows proper position, with hose clamps added top and bottom to keep it secured.

Soon enough, the furler was in perfect working order, and I was back in the cockpit with all my tools still aboard the boat. Maybe next time I'll remember to look at the instructions while the boat is tied motionless in a slip before I "fix" something.

A Dodger

I watch while Dan Loggans, right, owner of Harbor Custom Canvas, measures for a new dodger.

Narrow Escape has survived 39 years and who knows how many owners without a dodger. But these last few weeks, while I was wrestling with problems of keeping my outboard firmly attached to the transom, Narrow Escape was being fitted with a dodger.

The engine problem is now solved. A new carburetor restored the Tohatsu outboard to its normal smooth, quiet, powerful self, after its recent ocean dunking. And then a new oil pressure sensor switch turned off the red low oil pressure warning light that came on and stayed on while I was out testing the new carburetor.

That episode was only slightly traumatic. I knew the engine was full of new oil and it didn't sound like an engine consuming its innards for lack of lubrication. Never-the-less, I did make for the nearby fuel dock where I tied up and called the repair shop for reassurance before motoring back to my slip.

I've owned several boats in the past that came with dodgers when I bought them. I always appreciated their protection, while also noting that dodgers can make it more cumbersome to see forward and to move forward.

But it was time for Narrow Escape to have a dodger. She's entered in the Newport Beach-to-Ensenada race later this month and a dodger would make the bash back north after the race so much more endurable, especially since the longest leg, from Ensenada to San Diego, will be motorsailed at night.

Since I had never bought a dodger before, I didn't really know what was involved, nor how expensive they are. I solicited three bids and found that the fastest response and lowest price came from the company whose label is on most of the dodgers in my marina, Harbor Custom Canvas of Long Beach.

It took about a month from start to finish, and it involved a surprising amount of hands-on, at the boat effort.

The first step was a two-man team who came to measure the boat and talk about exactly what I wanted. That resulted about 10 days later with another visit by the same team (which included the company's owner) to install the dodger frame.

Far from being a mere spectator to the installation of a pre-manufactured item, I was a participant in the custom installation of a made-to-fit frame. I wanted it installed farther forward on the cabin than initially proposed. That minimized obstruction of the cockpit by the side curtains, and also allowed the canopy to cover the entire companionway hatch slide. Thus the front of the dodger could fasten to a molded fiberglass lip on the cabin ahead of the hatch area. I also was able to keep the canopy lower so that it would never interfere with the low boom on the Ericson 30. I can see easily over the top while standing and steering with the tiller and through it with plenty of protection while seated.

Teak strips had to be installed on either side of the cabin top to attach the outboard fastners for the isinglass front. And teak wedges were fabricated to match the curve of the cabin at the outer edges, supporting the teak strips.

The frame was left in place, secured with straps, for me to live with for a few days to ensure that it was properly placed before the fabric was fitted.

When I say fitted, that's what I mean. The team next showed up with a wide swath of Pacific Blue Sunbrella cloth and tailor's chalk. They laid the cloth on the frame and marked it up much the way a tailor would fit me for a suit.

About a week later the cloth top of the canopy and the isinglass front section were installed, along with the two vertical posts near each rear corner of the cabin that make the frame rigid and able to serve as a secure handhold for moving in and out of the cockpit. Wide cutouts on either side of the rear frame provide the aft handholds. Curved stainless bars were later mounted fore and aft along each side of the dodger as handholds for walking forward along the deck.

The last portions of the dodger to be installed, a few days later, were the removable side isinglass panels and the covers for all the isinglass segments.

New dodger offers excellent visibility forward, and easy deck access.

In our original discussions at the boat I was adamant about wanting maximum visibility out of the dodger and they did a beautiful job of meeting my demand. The sunbrella borders that are necessary to secure the isinglass panels are barely larger than the teak and fiberglass strips to which they are secured. I find there is no reduction in forward visibility compared to having no dodger.

Looking sharp all buttoned up.

Similar care was taken when they made the remaining pieces of my order. I bought weather cloths for each side of the boat, which fasten over the lifelines running from the rear cockpit gate hooks to the mid-cabin stanchions. They'll work well while motorsailing home from Ensenada by reducing the amount of spray that reaches the cockpit over the sides. I didn't intend them for sailing, however, because they fit too close to the sheet winches to allow the winch handles to be used.

Other tidbits include a new sail cover and a companionway cover. The latter will put an end to an occasional rain leak at the junction of the hatch slide and the folding companionway door. The sail cover replaces the ancient battered cover that worked okay when it protected the thin, ultra-pliable original main on the boat when I bought it. After I bought a new main I had to sew a canvas extension along the bottom of that cover to make it big enough to go around the new sail.

Perhaps it was that experience that convinced me I should never ever try to make my own dodger. Or a new mainsail cover, for that matter.

What's WOT

The owner's manual for my new Tohatsu 9.8 hp outboard says that the engine's wide-open throttle range should be 5,000 to 6,000 RPM. The manual also notes that Tohatsu ships its long shaft (20-inch) and ultra long shaft (25-inch) engines with a three-blade propeller that is 8.5 inches in diameter with a 7.5-inch pitch. The standard shaft (15-inch) engine comes with a propeller 8.9 inches in diameter and a pitch of 8.3 inches. For any given RPM, the short shaft engine is equipped to move more water than the longer shaft engines.

The manual also comes with a table of available propellers listed from "light boats" to "heavy boats". The shorter pitch prop that came from my engine is one step down in the table from the standard shaft prop, in the heavy boat direction.

Since I installed a tachometer for the engine, and I could measure boat speed on my GPS and knotmeter, I had all the information I needed to determine whether that propeller I received was the right propeller.

After I had completed the 10-hour break-in period on the engine (my tachometer also incorporates an hour meter), I found that wide-open throttle (WOT) was at least 7,000 rpm in light wind conditions. (That is the maximum marking on the tachometer.) I also saw that at 6,000 rpm, Narrow Escape was doing 5.3 knots. At full throttle I could go 6 knots.

The Albin inboard engine, at full throttle (maximum rated power was 12 hp at 1500 rpm) also pushed the boat at 6 knots. It had a larger two-blade propeller, 12-inch diameter and 8-inch pitch. There was no tachometer for the Albin, so I don't know how many rpms it actually turned.

Given all of this information, I decided that the Tohatsu prop was probably too small. The engine was running beyond the manual's recommended full throttle range at full throttle. And the boat was running about .7 knots slower with the outboard than it had with the Albin, when I stayed within the recommended rpm range.

An advantage of an outboard is that it is very easy to change the prop. I bought the 8.3-inch propeller that comes on the short shaft engine for $75, including tax. It probably took as long to readjust my dock lines to position the Ericson in the proper spot after backing into my slip as it did to make the propeller switch. By the way, the boat backs down quite nicely with the outboard, steering easily with the rudder while the engine remains fixed in its centered position.

The results could not have been better. Wide-open throttle is now 6,000 rpm and 6 knots. The ratio of rpm to speed holds at partial throttle settings, too. 5,000 rpm is 5 knots, 4,000 rpm is 4 knots and 3,000 rpm is 3 knots.

The engine also sounds better. It is working harder at lower rpm and it is obviously happier doing it. Overall it is quieter. It is less buzzy. And it has a somewhat deeper sound. It is definitely more pleasant.

New outboard original installation

 

Engine sits high when no one is aboard the boat. With me on board, it is at proper depth. Bracket raises 14 inches, enough for engine to be above the water even with crew on board. That was before the Albin inboard was removed and the bow water tank was filled.

A Very Full Circle Indeed

Careful readers may assume that I'm now back where I started. I bought an old boat with a new outboard and an old inboard. I put all my effort and money into the old engine and sold the new outboard. The old engine ultimately failed. I threw it away and bought a new outboard.

I did have the satisfaction of restoring a moribund old Swedish gasoline engine designed in 1925 and getting another 110 hours of life from it. The two-cylinder flathead Albin with its 50-pound flywheel had its charms -- and vibrations. But our relationship had run its course and I'm not going to miss it.

In its central location just behind the companionway ladder, I can put the boat's batteries where they will be easier to reach and provide the best ballast. And I'll still have room to build a large storage shelf above them.

When I bought the Ericson 30, various people suggested how lucky I was to have a new 4-stroke outboard on the transom and how easily I could lighten up the boat by removing the old inboard. I rejected the idea without ever seriously considering it. I couldn't wait until I could get the inboard running and remove the outboard.

The original Nissan outboard made the same power as my new Tohatsu. It's the same engine except for the label. Except it isn't really the same. The original was a long-shaft (20-inch) model with electric start and manual controls. It was mounted on the port side of the transom because that is where it was possible to reach it by crawling beneath the stern pushpit in a gap between the backstay and a vertical support.

That difficult effort was required when lowering the engine and again when pulling it up out of the water when under sail. In other words, using the outboard was a big hassle. Every time I did it, I looked longingly at the cockpit-mounted ignition switch, gear shift and throttle lever for the inboard engine and hardened my resolve to get the Albin running.

With help, I did. We fixed what was obviously needed, such as new valves, new piston rings, new and improved wet exhaust system, new carburetor and, eventually, new cylinder head when the old one rusted through. We didn't touch the bottom end, nor even separate the transmission from the cylinder block. Both were fine in test bench runs and remained that way for 110 hours back in the boat. But something eventually let go, causing a loud knocking that demanded immediately shutting down the engine. The source of the knock defied my in-the-boat attempts to identify it. I won't ever know what it was now that the engine is gone, left for scrap at the boat yard.

With hindsight, it now is clear that fronting the estimated $10,000-$12,000 cost of installing a new diesel would have been smarter than spending half that in increments as the Albin restoration project crept forward.

But having already spent that, I couldn't see now putting another $10,000-$12,000 into a new diesel. Spending about $4,000 for a new outboard and fancy Garelick hydraulic motor mount made a lot more sense.

However, I have made the new outboard nearly as convenient to use as the inboard by purchasing a remote-control model, and mounting it on a Garelick hydraulic outboard bracket. I can lean over the pushpit, not crawl through it, and let gravity lower the engine by merely opening the hydraulic bleed valve a half turn. Raising it requires only a dozen swings of the hydraulic pump handle.

The electric starter, choke, throttle and gear shift are handled with a robust control unit mounted on the sidewall of the cockpit in easy reach of the tiller. So is the combination tachometer and hourmeter, which is an after-market unit from Teleflex.

The ouitboard feeds from the replacement aluminum gas tank I had built for the boat a year ago, through the same Racor filter/water separator that served the inboard engine. The Tohatsu's fuel pump easily handles the extra length of the heavy Coast Guard-approved fuel line. And I can carry and easily switch to standard outboard fuel tanks to supplement the 22 gallons in the main tank.

Fuel economy is predicted to be about the same as the Albin - about a gallon an hour at max throttle. But exhaust emissions are much, much lower. The Tohatsu is a three-star ultra-low emission engine.

The six amp alternator built into the electric-start Tohatsu is enough for the low electrical loads on my boat. It's about the same output as the oddball starter-generator on the Albin.

The noise level is lower in the cockpit and virtually gone inside the cabin. When we motor back from the Ensenada race next spring, the off-watch crew is going to sleep easily.

Finally, when the Tohatsu needs professional servicing. I can easily lift it off the transom and take it to a dealer. And I'll never again have to spend $1500 for a new prop, prop shaft, cutless bearing and stuffing box.

I will have to spend something eventually to remove the existing shaft and seal up the hole. However, since it exits the hull behind and above the rudder, with no strut, there will be minimal drag if I simply remove the prop for now and secure the shaft outside with a zinc collar against the cutless bearing and inside with a couple of hose clamps ahead of the stuffing box.

So, yes, as a practical matter I am back where I started, having made a substantial contribution to keep the consumer-based economy afloat along the way. It was an interesting journey. I still have a great boat. It is a much better boat than when I bought it. It still needs work.

I suspect there are a lot of old sailboats that could be improved by replacing an unreliable inboard with a quiet new, remote-controlled outboard.

Back in Business

Oops! I've had this slip for a dozen years and I had never overshot it before.

It had been four months since the last time I had approached my slip. That was Aug. 4, the day my 39-year-old Albin two-cylinder gasoline engine broke its innards and had to be put to rest. That incident was the first time I had entered my slip under sail. I did it single-handed and it went perfectly.

Since then I had worked out of state for three months and then installed a new Tohatsu 9.8 hp outboard to replace the Albin. The outboard promised to be nearly as easy to use as the inboard, since it was mounted on a hydraulic mount on the transom and had remote control and electric start operated from the cockpit.

It was December 6. Christmas lights were strung fore and aft from my masthead, forming the outlines of imaginary sails. The real sails, however, were furled and snugly covered in Royal Blue Sunbrella. The genoa sheets were securely coiled and hanked at the bow. The coiled mainsheet hung from a cleat at the back of the cockpit.

During the hour and a half I motored at low throttle settings, it did occur to me that I was placing supreme confidence in a brand new engine. Not just in Tohatsu's quality control, either. I also was relying on the quality of my installation including control cables, electrical connections an a custom fuel system to feed the engine from the inboard fuel tank. I had previously run the new engine a total of 1.2 hours while tied up in the slip. And prudence dictated having the standard Tohatsu fuel tank and hose at the ready in the cockpit.


It wasn't engine failure that plagued me that afternoon, however. What failed was my judgement. Returning, I cut the power too soon heading down the channel to my slip. And I wasn't paying attention to the tide, which had just turned, flooding the basin with a discernible current. Too late to recover with throttle, I shoved the tiller over and hoped for the best.

I quickly saw that my turn wasn't going to carry me into my slip and ran forward to fend myself off my neighbor's stern, if it came to that. The boat seemed to slide sideways as much as it crept forward, but at last the bow was close enough to my dock finger for me to swing around from the pulpit and land on the wobbly planks. A couple more minutes of tugging and pushing had me tied securely in the slip. Whew!