Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Things they never told us. Rolling at anchor.

When we were planning this adventure we were already sailors. We had been sailing for quite some time. Big difference though between sailing and cruising. Before we left to go cruising the longest we had stayed aboard the boat while traveling was 3 weeks. This was done on Lake Ontario and most of the cruising was in Canada. It was cold. We stayed in marina's except for the Thousand Islands where we dropped the hook from time to time.

To say we were naive about cruising was an understatement. When we bought Kelly Nicole and hauled her for the survey I looked at the prop and asked, "Are those barnacles?" The people around the boat just stared at me in silence for about 3 seconds and then continued scraping. It was like that scene in the movie Animal House when the frat pledge asks a group playing poker if they are playing cards.



Our only anchoring experience before we left was in Sodus Bay, our home port, so it came as a rude awakening when our first time to anchor as cruisers was in the Delaware River just before the C&D Canal. It was the night a tug and barge drug anchor and came within about 75 yards of making us just splintered fiberglass. That was some scary shit I tell ya. When the Captain of the tug calls you and tells you to get ready to drop your chain you know it's serious.

Since we left we have been anchoring nearly every stop. Our last marina visit was in Puerto Real in Puerto Rico. That was a long time ago. That's a lot of anchoring. Of course there were some moorings we picked up along the way but not too often. It is surprising we didn't quit cruising altogether after some dreadful anchoring experiences capped off with the Derecho in Georgetown. I guess this is what separates the Women from the Girls, the Men from the Boys, the Cruisers from the Day Sailors, the Cats from Kittens, the Alpaca from the Cria, the Democrats from the Republicans (Ha! Don't get all bent out of shape now. Just a joke you trolls).

From the time we started thinking about cruising and reading all those blogs and magazines related to the cruising life there was not a single article or post that I can recall which talked about ROLLING at anchor. Not one. If there was well it didn't stick with me. We had no roll in the Great Lakes unless a boat threw a wake at us. I had no idea that the motion of a powerboat wake rolling you can happen naturally and go on for days and nights! WTF!

Here comes the Derecho!

For a while there during our voyage it seemed every anchorage we landed in was rolling. We started thinking that this is how it is and no one fucking mentioned this and I really really want to slap some people, like maybe the staff at Cruising World Magazine or those overly positive blogger's, where their everyday lives are filled with cheer, happiness and sunshine while holding exotic rum drinks that were brought to their boats balanced on the heads of smiling dolphins. They never mentioned rolling and puking but we know, yes we know now you lying bastards. Those Dolphins aren't bringing you drinks, they are alongside your boat laughing at your green face hanging over the side.

The first rolling was just annoying. We laughed because we walked funny and bumped into each other and some things were hard to do like boil pasta without 3rd degree burns and peeing while standing. After we left that anchorage we said, "How amusing was that!"

We pulled into a highly recommended and popular anchorage and it looks gorgeous but you literally could not get off your boat because it's rocking so much you fear falling and missing the dinghy and besides, how the hell would you lower the outboard without stuffing it through the floor of the dinghy or losing a few fingers? People on the radio talked about the days they've been trapped on the boat. Days?

One of our first anchorage/mooring harbours where we experienced this was Dinner Key. It wasn't so much the rolling but the 3-4 ft waves racing into the harbour and sending the bow skyward and then diving down. It was like a sub surfacing over and over again. For days this went on. It was insanity. I would stand in the boat and feel my feet leaving the floor only to have it lurch up again. My knees were killing me while we were there. We were trapped on the boat for 5 days.

We were in Bimini and some crusty cruiser I was talking to told me he lives in Bimini now. He asked what we were doing. He then told me to not anchor overnight on the Bahamas Bank because the weather can turn and you'll be sorry as hell you were there. Said he almost lost his boat and his life out there so he never went out there again. Uhh, OK. Thanks  depressing Crusty Cruiser Guy.

We planned a nights anchor out there and we did. It was a beautiful star filled night. A most memorable night. Then morning came. The waves were growing. Growing fast. "Let's move!" I was manually hoisting the anchor (I do not miss Simpson the Windlass) and the bow would rise with the waves and yank at the chain with pretty good force. It was a bit nasty. I kept counting my fingers with every crash. Nine and a half, good. The radio was alive with other cruisers warning of the coming waves and for everyone to mind their fingers and toes. Oye. All I could think of was the crusty cruiser staring at his mangled hand and living in Bimini the rest of his life. We escaped and had a nice run across the banks.

The worst was Rum Cay in the Bahamas. Picture walking through a fun house where you can't avoid hitting the walls as you walk. The boat would roll 10-15 degrees and then back the other way, continuously, for days. It was enough where we had to launch the dinghy to get the hell off the boat and onto stable land else we would have just jumped overboard and let the ocean have it's way with us. The harbour was so bad we had a hard time leaving the dinghy to get ashore! The bar at Rum Key was crowded because everyone wanted off the boats. Now you have a beer buzz and you have to get back to the fun house. Fun!
By the way, a beer buzz and a rolling pitching boat do not go together very well. There was no hurling but sleeping was very uncomfortable. Now I have to mention that neither of us has ever really hurled from seasickness. Deb is the only one that ever hurled but it was because of food poisoning in Puerto Rico. Don't order the penis pasta.



When we got back to the rolling boat in Rum Cay we were sitting in the salon watching a jar of peanut butter, a tissue box and a flashlight slide back and forth on the counter while the door to the breaker panel opened and slammed shut repeatedly. Everything in motion with the boat, back and forth, back and forth. We broke out in laughter at all this and it eventually turned to tears and pleading to the Gods to make it all stop. When it was time to leave we took off into the wind and waves in conditions that were a bit rough but compared to the anchorage it was heaven. It was one of our best sails.

Now don't get us wrong, we aren't complaining...much. The majority of the places we have anchored are beautiful and the conditions have been just fine. We have also been getting used to the motion of the ocean and are not so bothered by it all. There are little tricks we can do to minimize the rolling and we have applied them all with some success at times. We do have our favorite spots where the water is flat as a pancake most times but they are everyone's fav's as well. Which brings me to my next Things They Never Told Us post, Anchoring Togetherness. Nothing like coming up on deck with your morning coffee and seeing your neighbors soapy dong.

Cheers!
P


I know, put on a shirt. 

See. No rolling. Nice.


So who will be the 1st one to tell me to buy a cat and avoid the rolling? We're not buying a cat so save your words unless they are really funny or super sarcastic because a cat vs mono battle in the comments section is almost as good as a Best Anchor comment.
posted from Bloggeroid

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Update. Rochester NY

We have a few weeks left in our furnished apartment in Rochester. We made a good choice as the place is super clean, roomy and has what we need plus it's just 15 minutes from the kids. It's still apartment life and all the odd stuff associated with it.

The sound proofing is amazing really. Hardly hear people except the heavy foot person above us who seems to jog around their apartment every morning before work. One day we heard someone next door in a muffled scream. They screamed the words, "Die you fucking son of a bitch!!" Then more screaming. That person always goes to work in scrubs so assuming a med professional. Either that or an axe murderer selling body parts to the hospital. We assume that the dude is a Gamer and is having difficulty getting to the next level.

Yesterday the cable guy shows up. "High I'm from Spectrum. You have an appointment?" No. "I have you scheduled for today". Nope. What's Spectrum? "Cable. Time Warner." Nope. "I need to see your connection. There's a problem. Only take a minute."

I paused, saw the ID. Looks legit. Kid is not that big. He's not the potential axe murderer from next door. My chefs knife is on the table...OK.

Dude looks at our connections. Says it's illegal. See the office dude. Not my problem. He makes some phone calls and then leaves. Seconds pass and the wifi and cable box shut down. Son of a...
I ran out the door (I left the knife but did give it a glance) and chased him down. Gone. Bastard. I call the office. Hey WTF!

Next I see the cable guy knocking on the security door. I asked why the fuck he shut it all down. "All a mistake. They called me and said they shut it down and I was like, why? so I hurried back." he said. He then spent the next half hour installing a "box" to make the system legal and give us the wifi back. That whole time Debra was trapped in the bathroom as the kid was right outside the door.

Cable guy asks if we rent the place with all the furniture and everything. Then wants to know what we do. When he found out he was in awe. "Damn, I will never get to do that." I told him it's completely possible but you have to work towards it. Staying debt free is number one. After those words he deflated and mentioned his student loans of epic proportion. Oye. Not much I could say after that. Poor bastard cable guy.

We have cable and wifi again and Deb is out of the shower. We turned the TV on maybe twice since we've been here. Nothing to see. It's all shit.

Enjoying the visit and having fun. The Grandkids are amazing and fun to be around and their parents are tolerating us just fine ;D

Cheers!
PB

Our boat babysitter says all is well with KN
Batteries look good :D

posted from Bloggeroid

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Goodbye Dad

Life with Dad had it's ups and downs. At times it was like walking on thin ice. Other times he was fun to be around and then there were times where he was just Dad, the guy who came home, read the paper, watched a show and went to bed.

My Mom and Dad and Grandpa with me riding
the Horse with No Legs. Is that a song?

When you are young you just see your parents before and after work and have no idea what their life is like in between. We didn't see the details of their daily existence, just the results. Some evenings were good, some were bad. Eventually the evenings were leaning more towards bad than good as the economy also shifted to bad and having a lazy teenage son laying around the house acting like he owns the place didn't help any. Dad and I were not getting along. I made plans. Community College graduation was close and I already had a good job. I was saving. Saving for that U-haul.

Me, Dad and Uncle Rog

I moved out of the house and down the thruway as soon as I could get away. I was young and trying to figure out what direction to take in life and where to live it. Getting a job in Rochester removed me from the daily family drama of my parents living with three teenage disco girls and a dog that bites people in the ass if they try to leave. I imagine it was a fun place now that I was gone and I pretty much just kept it to Sunday phone calls and the occasional visit. I did not see much of the family and I hoped that my absence might improve my relationship with Dad. It did a little bit but you see, my Dad and I had an eight hour relationship time limit.

After being together for about eight hours one of us would say something or do something to piss each other off. It could be anything. One that comes to mind is the Pete Rose Hall of Fame issue. My Dad talked about Pete deserving to get into the Hall. I casually asked, Didn't he bet against his own team? There was a slight pause and then Dad replied with, "What the hell do you know about baseball!!". Enough to know a cheater when I see one. And just like that conversation was over and replaced with occasional glaring and avoidance. It was usually some silly disagreement that set us off or an off hand comment said in jest that was received the wrong way. We could easily co-exist in the same space for four hours. After four things get dicey and no way we can go beyond eight. It just didn't work.

Dad sitting down the kids and I for a chat.

In a way Dad and I were opposites. Dad loved baseball. He played it all his life. I thought baseball was boring. I played it too. Dad was not impressed and neither were my coaches. I spent a lot of time in right field watching birds and catching grasshoppers. Dad watched a lot of football. I built a lot of model airplanes. Once I wanted to impress him by watching a game on a small black and white TV up in my room. I think I even had a helmet on. By the time he got home I had built a fort of chairs and blankets around the TV and turned it into a secret airbase for jet fighters. Dad asked me about the score. Uh, I uh.. He also finally realized that he had a nerd in his family and would just have to deal with it. He did, in a way.

As the years went by, the 8 hour rule still applied. We saw less and less of each other. As we grew older my life got more hectic as Dad's slowed down. My weekly phone calls became bi-weekly and then monthly. Dad's conversations with me seemed like a chore for both of us. Sometimes we hit it off and laughed a lot and sometimes it was a grunt for a hello and a "talk to your Mother" moment. Sometimes he didn't pick up. My visits became even less frequent and sometimes we didn't even make it to 4 hours before conversation stalled. The whole relationship was going south.

Still trying to impress my Dad even in my 40's I got the brilliant idea of taking him to a Boston Bruins game. Yes, the one solid thing we still had in common and it involved sports. Dad and I were hockey fans. We loved the sport and we loved the Boston Bruins. I will never forget a game the Bruins were playing against the hated Montreal Canadiens long ago. We were on the couch in front of the TV and stressed out about a very close game. It was a tie game. It was a playoff game. With just seconds left Boston scored on a rebound from a shot by Bobby Orr and as I lept off the couch Dad did a somersault roll from the couch to a leap in the air in front of the screen! I thought it was the funniest thing I ever saw. It was good to laugh with Dad. It did not happen often but when it did it was usually memorable.

Planning this Boston trip might be the craziest thing I ever did. What about the 8 hr. rule? He might want to strangle me before we even get to Albany! I bought the tickets not knowing if he would even want to go but he agreed. Wow! Now what? This could be a total disaster!

I was pretty nervous when we got into the car. All I could think of was what words would come out of my mouth to set him off. I turned on the radio and hoped he would sleep. He didn't like the music. Damn, no oldies stations. We ran out of coffee, damn. It started to rain, damn. I had to hit the brakes and the car shuddered and the anti-lock brake light came on and also the check engine light. Damn. Is this a sign to turn around? I kept driving while Dad looked at me and then the dash lights. No problem Dad this happened before and it was nothing I lied. "Better get that looked at", he said. "The new Honda is nice. The Accord. My Grand Prix was a lemon. Terrible car." I was biting my tongue. I worked at GM. I drove a Grand Prix. Tic toc tic toc...

We continued on. Almost to Albany now. A truck on a side road to the thruway sideswiped a utility pole and the wires separated and there was blue arcing and flame on the pole. Holy smokes! Something is telling me this is a bad idea. Dad was asleep at the moment and there was no turning back now. I also really really had to use the bathroom but I did not want to wake him up. This reminded me of a time when he took me on a sales trip to Ohio. In order to make good time we skipped all meals both ways. I lived off a bag of blue mint candies he had for the ride. I can never eat those candies again. I laughed at his sleeping face wishing I had a bag of those mints if he said he was hungry.

As we entered Boston my Dad was awake and his eyes were wide as he pointed out various places around town and commented on my dangerous driving. By some miracle I found my way to our hotel and we parked and got settled in no time and without conflict. Hell I think we may break this eight hour limit.

Our hotel was near MIT and it is a long walk to the arena downtown. Dad asked how far a walk it is. Uh oh. Not far I lied, again. At this point it was dark outside and we started walking to dinner. We wanted to go to Cheers, the bar made famous by the TV show. Dad now understood how far this walk was but he was so fascinated by his surroundings that he never gave it a second thought. The air was crisp this fall evening and the holidays were quickly approaching. It was a perfect night for a walk.

With our hands in our jackets we walked down the long street, passing many old Brownstone houses worth millions and we were so close to them that the windows were too high for me to see into, so I was jumping up and down as we passed a window to get a look. I wouldn't call it peeping, more like just being nosey. Dad would laugh, "You're short like your mother". Yeah what's with that anyway? I asked. I have a head sized for a bigger body. I was malnourished or something. We laughed some more as we worked our way uphill, still joking as we passed beautiful home after home. Any minute. Any minute he's going to ask me if we were actually walking back home instead of going to dinner. Any minute now. Finally, "Hey, If I don't make it to dinner just roll me back down into the river." How about I bury you next to Samuel Adams? More laughter.

Dad and I Sumo wrestling


As we reached the top of the hill I continued on but soon realized Dad had stopped walking. I looked back and he was staring down the hill to the commons. Everything OK?, I asked. I couldn't hear what he said and when I walked back to him he nodded down the hill, "look at that."


At the bottom of the hill the commons were all aglow. The ice rink shined bright white. Girls were practicing their figure skating routines for a Christmas show all dressed in white and silver. The ice rink was surrounded by beautiful ice sculptures and the ladies ice danced as the Christmas music filled the air. Both of us were as frozen as the sculptures as we stared down the hill. No traffic. Nobody but us and all quiet except the distant sound of music. I looked at Dad and he had a smile unlike any I had ever seen on his face. It wasn't the smile from a joke, or a sitcom or a laugh at the bar. This was a genuine love my life right now smile. It was the smile I needed to see.
"That's something. That's really something.", he said.

The rest of the walk was easy. We were buoyed by the wonderful sight before us and had a little more spring in our step on our way to dinner. Dinner was good. Afterwards we visited Melville's upstairs and rubbed elbows with folks who Dad entertained with a few jokes and some stories. The hockey game was great. The Bruins won and I made sure Dad didn't do a somersault off his seat into the aisle when they scored.

We had busted way past our old 8 hr time limit. After that moment on the hill I never gave it another thought. That smile. That moment. That is what I needed after all those years.

That weekend happened many years ago but I think it was somewhat of a turning point in our relationship. We saw each other a little bit differently afterward and our attitudes towards one another improved.

Now that Dad is gone I look back and wonder how things could have been different between us, but then I realize that even if we had the chance for a repeat we would probably be the same two individuals we were.
Dad and I saw each other months before his passing when he was in the hospital and we had a lengthy talk. After many hours of memory filled conversation we both had no apologies or regrets. We were just thankful for the time we did have as father and son.

Rest in Peace Dad. Wherever you are I am sure you are sporting that smile you had on the hill and that is how I will remember you.




Cheers Dad.
P
posted from Bloggeroid

Monday, May 15, 2017

Sailing Nights

Well this was a short season wasn't it? One more overnight hop and we will get hauled into a hot sweaty yard and perform two weeks of boat cleanup and storage work. I feel like we just did this. We did and it sucks to have to do it again so soon but life is weird sometimes.

As readers know we are not fond of overnight sailing. Weird shit happens at night.

Before we had autopilot we were doing an overnight down the east coast of the US. I commented to Deb about the high speed powerboats zipping around. Damn those are fast! We near a Navy base or something because those are definitely military. Wow! Deb says, "Those lights are stationary. You are turning the boat." Huh? I looked down at the compass and sure as shit I was turning. Good thing it was dark so my glowing red face didn't show too bad.



One night off the coast of the DR we lost all GPS systems. All of them. Even the handheld. The autopilot went nuts and so did I. What the hell is going on! I called over to SV Odin and they were like, "What the hell are you doing up there?" They never had the problem. Weird. I'm sure they looked at each other and said, Have another beer Paul!

There was a night I was on watch and downed a bag of Reese's Peanut butter cups. The whole bag. I was not right. I think I started hallucinating. To this day I can't even think of them without my stomach getting queasy.

Deb was on watch heading for Grenada and I come up and she has a strange look on her face. I ask her if there is anything I need to know. She gets up to go below and says, "A UFO and that big ship is heading for us". I ignored the sky for the UFO but saw the ship coming at us. Geezuz!! She went to bed.

Deb comes up to relieve me on our sail from Trini to Grenada. What's up? Nothing going on except that bird will not leave the Bimini. You can see it's tail sticking out over it right there. I point to it. It will not leave. I tried punching the canvas to get it to fly away but it just moves to another spot. Deb just blinked at me and I thought maybe punching the bird was bad so I explained that it shit all over the Bimini and I think it peed on my arm. Stupid shitty bird. I went below. Deb let the bird ride without trying to punch it and it hopped off within site of Grenada.

Deb was asleep in the cockpit while I was on watch. It was a little stormy so all the canvas was up and I was sitting up off the seat and next to the canvas. I had on a headlamp in case I needed light. I was just sitting there thinking of the usual weird stuff and a large something smacked into the canvas right next to my head. I damn near jumped out of my skin! I flicked the light on and unzipped the canvas to take a peek. As the rain and sea hit my face I could see a large flying fish flipping around on the deck. Holy shit that thing damn near hit me in the face! I went over to Deb and shook her awake to tell her and show her the fish but I forgot the light and she woke up to blazing LED's hitting her in her eyeballs. She thrashed a bit shielding her eyes and then told me I was an asshole and some other things I could not quite make out. I went back to save the fish but it was toast.

Off the US coast Deb says, "Damn that ship is big." I look back and see it's all lit up so it must be a cruise ship. It's heading towards us and moving fast. Nothing on AIS. Let's keep an eye on it. Minutes later. That damn thing is closer than I thought. I might have to call them to let them know we are out in front of them. Then as we are watching this "ship" the clouds part to reveal the moon rising behind us. There was laughter.

One lonely night of boring droning diesel motoring in flat seas I thought I would put the headlamp on and in the red light write a little bit. So I wrote something. I basically wrote a porn story about a sailor who has sex with a Mermaid on the deck of a sailboat while underway. I read it in the morning and I thought, what in the hell was all this about? Wow. It was a comedy of sorts but naughty as hell. I still have it but it will never be posted. Just...wow.

Deb was sleeping and I am sailing down Martinique. The wind is getting light. We had just enough to keep us moving at about two knots. Wait. Two knots going backwards! What the hell is going on here? I am pointing south but the GPS has me tracking north. Huh? My tired, sleep deprived brain could not get a grip on this. Before I started losing it I realized there is a current pushing north. We had just enough wind to keep the boat pointed south but the current was carrying us north. We started the diesel and continued...south!

I will try to sail in any wind before starting the diesel and Deb refuses to say, "Start the motor". No one wants to run under power but I am too stubborn to give up on sailing and Deb has this weird thing about not being the one to decide to power up. It can get strange as we drift along at 3 knots. Eventually I give in and then Deb frowns like she wanted to sail at 3 knots all day but Mr. Motorhead has to burn some dinosaur juice.

Don't sail with us. It's maddening. Ask our kids :D

We have another overnight in store for us as we head further south. I am hoping for a normal voyage but just once I would like to see the UFO.

Cheers!
PB



"Sailing Nights"

Like the wind that carried ahab
To a far, more distant shore,
To a shipwreck that was certain
Long before.
I can see there's no use sailing
Among ships i've known before.
It will only bring me more,
And more and more
Lonely sailing nights, more,
Racing, dimming lights.
Lonely nights, and all too
Familiar sights.

Just as water seeks its level,
So i only seek to live;
Hoping somehow i can find
A way to give.
And the sea, it softly beckons,
"come and go where you've not been."
With the dawning of a new day,
I'm gone, again.
Lonely sailing nights, ... gone,
Racing, dimming lights,
Lonely nights,
And all too
Familiar sights.


By Bob Seger
posted from Bloggeroid

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Sparks will fly

Cruising is full of surprises. Some are good, like meeting people in a bar and becoming friends. Some are bad, like an early morning start to sailing to your next island and smelling something electrical burning.

We were in Bequia and leaving before sunrise to head up the chain to St Lucia. Way too early for us two. We were like zombies getting the boat prepped for voyage and it was time to start the engine and let her warm up. We are not 'start and go' people when it comes to systems. We like them to run up a bit and then we check to make sure everything is hunky dory. Hell we are not start and go with anything especially getting an early start, as our old "buddy boat" knows.

Something smelled wrong. We had not showered in a few days but this was something unrelated to the body.



Our engine room blower exits at deck level and if something is burning in there we will know it quickly and we sure did that morning. I thought it smelled electrical and Deb thought it smelled like a belt burning. I went below to find the alternator smoking and when the engine room door opened the smoke alarm went off and I yelled for Deb to shut the engine down. We went from peaceful easy morning to WTF IS HAPPENING! in just a few minutes and I am not sure our early morning zombie brains could really get a handle on it.

After a quick inspection for anything obvious we started back up and I checked the current from the alternator to the batteries. Damn, not much there for trying to restore a bank at 85%. We shut her down again and I gave Debra the bad news that the alternator was probably shot. I came to this conclusion when molten stuff was flying out of the vents accompanied by smoke and the distinct smell of electrical components burning. Deb just put her head in her hands realizing we are staying for a while and then said we are heading back. "Too many failures. This season is jinxed and I am not going any further risking a disabled boat." I understood.

This engine has always had a high output alternator. I didn't want one so I removed the old 135 amp beast and tried to put an 80 amp in it's place but everyone talked me into at least a 100 amp unit. Our Yanmar 4jh does not like anything that size even with a 1/2 inch belt but I listened to the experts and went with the Balmar 100 amp super expensive alternator with the ARS-5 super deluxe regulator. Wow. I felt superior. Superior and poor. That shit was expensive.

One year into cruising and the ARS-5 lit up like a roman candle and ate itself in the Abacos. Two years later the Alternator did the same thing. Son of a ...

Everyone online thought we were doomed. No way will you find an alternator in Bequia. Out of sheer luck we did. There was a Hitachi internally regulated 80 amp alternator in a box on a shelf in some obscure little shop behind a hairdresser and under some palm trees run by a sleepy guy who really wanted to help and knew his gear. The only thing he didn't know was if the thing was internally or externally regulated. There were no model numbers anywhere. The box it came in was not the original. It was a sketchy deal but we were desperate sailors.

We found this guy by stopping at the local chandlery where a young Aussie fellow said he knows a guy who can help and to go to the petrol station and cross the street to a field with a bodega/shop. Go behind the shop and follow the path to a gate. Go through the gate and ask for Cary. We found Cary and he said we need to go see Piper. Take the back road towards the church and he is on the right by the hair cutters but don't go past the church.

We bought the alternator from Piper after verifying through Wifi that we had the right style. Unfortunately there were no wiring diagrams and the wifi on the boat is extremely poor but what the hell, there are only three termination points to deal with. I should be good.



It didn't work. The alternator case was only marked with 'Batt' nothing else. I assumed the negative batt cable went to the terminal in contact with the case. Wrong. I assumed the blue wire coming out the side of the case was the field wire. Wrong. I assumed the alternator was externally regulated. Wrong. I suck at this. Correct!

To make a rather long story short (not short enough you say) I found some patience and waited for Debra to search for a schematic. We found one from some forum and some random dude bitching about his Hitachi alternator wiring. He sketched the correct wiring with explanation of the terminals. Awesome!

Our internally regulated alternator (damn) had the negative batt cable relocated to the correct terminal (not grounded) and there is no field wire (internal regulator) and the vertical blade on the T-connector is the ignition wire. Let's go make some amps! Nope. The random dude had the wrong terminal on the T-connector. Now let's go make some amps! Ta Da!

This morning we will start the engine while the batts are down about 70 amp hrs and we should see the alternator kick in with a full load. Hoping not to see smoke or burning belts or smelling anything burning except the spliff from the lobster guy.

Cheers!
P

Paradise. More like Pair a Dice. Every voyage is a roll of the dice. You feeling lucky?

posted from Bloggeroid