Spend enough time around boats and the water, and you’re bound to fall in sooner or later.  It happens to everybody eventually and today it was Rachel’s turn.  This is how it happened.

Tanya, Sarah, Sam, and Rachel were heading off to the store.  While walking up the dock toward the parking lot, they passed a boat having its carpets cleaned.  This was evidently a pretty interesting process, and everybody took a good look as they walked by.  But Rachel’s attention was so drawn by the strange machine that she failed to maintain proper course and speed.  Looking to her left, she veered a little too far to the right, and walked right off the dock.

This was a fixed dock, so not a simple matter of reaching down and scooping her up.  It was about a 6-7 foot drop.  Tanya heard Rachel’s splash and jumped in right behind her.  Sarah and Sam ran to get me.  A guy from the cleaning crew heard the commotion and reached down to hold Tanya’s hand and help her stay above water.  I got there with the dinghy and brought Tanya and Rachel back for showers and dry clothes.

All-in-all it went pretty well.  I don’t think they were in the water for more than three minutes and nobody was hurt, but we always analyze this kind of event and try to figure out what we could have done better.

What we did right:

Rachel never goes on the dock without Mom or Dad, and shouldn’t be on deck without us watching either.  Tanya was there and reacted quickly.

Nobody panicked.  Rachel did her best to float as she had been taught.  Every kid I’ve ever seen fall in freaks out.  Rachel did not even cry.  Totally calm.  

While going to get Dad may have been a natural reaction for Sarah and Sam, in this case it also happened to be the quickest route to rescue.  I already had the dinghy in the water because, believe it or not, a guy from another boat had already fallen in this morning.

After telling me what happened, the kids returned to Tanya to let her know I was on the way.

The dinghy was definitely the best way to get them out of the water.  Water to dinghy, dinghy to boat, and shower on the transom is a process we’re all intimately familiar with.  Bringing them back up to the dock by another means may have worked, but it wouldn’t have been as fast and simple.

What could have gone better:

This marina, probably like many others, is short on devices for self-rescue.  It’s a long drop to the water and there are very few ladders.  Really the only option for climbing out is a boat with a swim platform.  The current in this area is strong, and swimming upstream is very difficult.  There really should be better equipment for helping someone get out of the water.

Tanya and I had often thought about what to do if someone fell in.  We always assumed it would be Rachel, and our working plan was that someone would jump in after her and swim to a nearby boat.  However, Tanya felt differently once she was in the water.  Her immediate need was for flotation, and nobody was prepared for that.  

I don’t want to be too hard on them, but the kids could have done a better job.  They know it.  Sam and Sarah did not both need to come get me.  One could have gone the other direction to the dockmaster’s office.  Either could have brought back flotation.  A cushion from our boat or another boat, a life ring, a dock line, anything.  The older boys back on Take Two came running when they heard the call.  They didn’t bring flotation either.

Rachel is making good progress with her swimming, but she’s not there yet.  This has been a big priority for a while now, and Tanya has her in the pool almost every day, but it can’t happen fast enough.  It was apparent that Rachel’s emergency floating practice kicked in, but she needs more.

Afterward, as we all relaxed and debriefed, some silly adrenaline-induced mistakes came out:

When I jumped in the dinghy, I was in such a rush to get it started that I jerked on the choke with the strength I meant to use for the pull cord.  I’m lucky I didn’t break it.  

As I pulled up to Tanya and Rachel in the water, I actually tried to hand her a cushion.  She looked at me like I was an idiot, completely ignored my cushion, and just grabbed the boat.

My brain was still addled when we got back to Take Two.  I’ve parked the dinghy between Take Two’s transoms hundreds of times and I always do it the same way, but this time I unintentionally parked it backwards (bow to starboard instead of port).  Then I tried to get out without hooking it up to the davits.

But Eli gets the prize for absentmindedness.  He was in the bathroom when Sarah came yelling that Rachel had fallen in the water.  Eli is our hero, our man-of-action.  If someone needs his physical help, he's there.  So when Aaron and I rushed out to help, he came too.  Unfortunately he forgot his pants. 

Tanya has often accused me of leading a sedentary lifestyle, and I can’t disagree.  I spend much of my time sitting, and I despise intentional exercise.  Yet eat and drink as I may, I remain as thin and fit as a teenager.  It’s a mystery.

For her part, Tanya has been practicing yoga.  I was watching her recently and thinking that it didn’t look so hard.  Naturally, I kept my comments to myself, but later it occurred to me: I am a yoga master — boat yoga.

Boat yoga poses are different.  They're called things like “aft macerator”, “port oil filter”, and the dreaded “prop shaft coupling”.  And they have to be done while holding heavy tools, using nasty chemicals, and working around hot engines, razor sharp hose clamps, and live electricity.  Instead of pronouncing Om and seeking inner peace, a boat yogi cleanses his spirit by muttering obscenities and being generally unpleasant.  Tanya and the kids prefer to leave the boat whenever I’m practicing a new or complicated position.  

Here’s an example of boat yoga.  I call it “shower sump repair”.  I don’t know if it has a real yoga name.  You start in a kneeling position, and then lean as far as you can forward without support from your hands.  Pretend you’re cleaning, scraping, applying epoxy, drilling holes, crimping wires, tightening hose clamps, etc.  To do it correctly, you must transition in and out of this position several times, each time to go get a heavier tool which must then be held at arm’s length in front of you.  You may also get beers as necessary to maintain focus.

Do that one long enough and for the next couple days you’ll be sedentary, too.  

On Day 4 they removed the other two pistons, the crankshaft, and the camshaft.   

What I found most remarkable about these pieces was the precision of the machine work and the intricacy of the lubrication system.  I really thought that oil just kind of splashed around in there. No, there is a pump, a gallery, and tiny little paths for the oil to flow through and keep all the parts moving smoothly.  It’s ingenious.

This is pretty close to the end of the project.  We’ll have one more review session, and then we’ll take a field trip to the scrap yard.  My original goal was to have them put it back together, but I’m not sure there is much value in that.  I think they get it.

Today we removed the harmonic balancer, the valve cover, valve carrier, cylinder head, and oil pan.  We removed the front cover and learned how the governor maintains engine speed.  With the oil pan off we turned the engine upside down so we could unbolt the connecting rod from the crankshaft and remove the #2 piston.

Today they took off the raw and fresh water pumps, heat exchanger, intake and exhaust manifolds, fuel injection pump, high pressure fuel lines, and injectors.

It is becoming apparent that we got the last breath of life out of this machine.  Sure, it looked a little rough on the outside, but now we see it was rough on the inside too.

We’re changing out Take Two’s propane tanks.  We used to use the kind on the right, but there’s been a recall and the manufacturer has gone out of business.  Our old tanks were fine, but they aren’t supposed to be filled anymore.  Bummer.

We’re sticking with fiberglass, though.  Those are the new ones on the left.  Fiberglass tanks are cheap, light, and they don’t rust.  They’re tough to beat… until there’s a recall.
 

The job for today was to separate the generator part from the engine part.  The kids undid all the bolts on the isolation mounts, the stator assembly, the rotor, and flywheel housing.  They also removed the engine wiring, alternator belt, and some of the hoses.  Grownups were needed to take the bolts off the flywheel with an impact wrench and to physically move the (really, really) heavy stuff out of the way.

Our generator is dead.  We had it checked out, and the windings are shot.  Even though the engine part still works, repairing or replacing the backend doesn’t make sense compared to just getting an entirely new machine.  

So the old one has been removed and I’ve begun shopping for a replacement.  Removed is such an easy word to say, but it was not an easy thing to do.  A Northern Lights 12kW genset weighs over 800 pounds.  It took a series of lifts with a chain hoist and an I-beam to move the thing from the boat to the dock, onto a cart, and then into a truck.  I’m sorry I don’t have any pictures.  Whenever those 800 pounds were swinging in the air I always seemed to have something else on my mind.

Usually a failure like this is an opportunity to rethink the situation and make it better.  But in this case I’m not finding anything that I think needs to be improved.  The Northern Lights was a great generator.  It died from old age, neglect, and a dose of salt water.  The 12kW was way overkill, so I think the next one will be about half that size.  Otherwise, I’d go right back to the same thing… if it weren’t for the cost.  Northern Lights generators command a hefty premium, so instead I’m looking at the Kubota-based sets from Phasor and Beta Marine.

For the same reasons that I can’t repair the old generator, I can’t really sell it either.  So what do you do with a working engine that is not useful or valuable?  Let the kids take it apart, of course!  The kids are going to diesel engine camp this summer.  They’ll dissect it under Ben’s tutelage and then put it back together.  I’ll get some pictures of that for sure.

We’ve been experimenting with Dyneema line lately.  Technically known as ultra-high molecular weight polyethelene (UHMWPE), the stuff is stronger than steel, yet soft and light.  It’s been around for a while and is gradually replacing wire rope in industrial applications.  Relatively new for recreational use, it is becoming more prevalent for low-stretch halyards, lifelines, and is even growing in popularity for standing rigging (ie. holding up the mast) on performance-oriented boats.  

We already have Dyneema-cored halyards and jib sheets, and when we replaced our running backstays a couple years ago, we switched from wire to Dyneema there.  Eventually we’re going to change our lifelines over, and probably our lazy jacks, too.  In a couple years we’re going to need a full rig replacement, and I hope to be able to make a good decision between staying with wire or going all synthetic.

Another use for Dyneema is replacing steel shackles, and this has been the focus of our recent experimentation.  Soft shackles, as they’re called, are easy to make and there are many sites online that show you how.  Sarah can do one in about 30 minutes with $3 of materials, and yet they typically sell for $20-30.  She has already realized that the profit margin splicing rope beats the heck out of a lemonade stand.

What we want now is to break a few of them to confirm their theoretical strength.  But it’s not that easy to do.  I think that loop pictured above might take 12,000 pounds.

Ultimately, I want to use Dyneema shackles to attach our anchor bridle to the chain.  Currently we tie the bridle legs on with rolling hitches, but that takes time to do and undo, and is failure prone.  Chain hooks don’t do it for me either.  I like to sleep at night and a Dyneema shackle a couple times stronger than the chain will do nicely, especially when I can throw on a backup for a few bucks and some child labor.