Erratic, but sometimes, just lucky

The view of the beach in Santiago Bay from the bow

The internet connection I bought for  week expired and I couldn't force myself to pay their rates (450 pesos a week) again, so I packed up the boat and sailed down to Santiago Bay, about 20 miles south of Barra. Here, in this wide, calm, and peaceful place I found a free, fast wifi connection.

A wreck sits in the far corner of this beach. 

A favorite spot for divers.

It's a little muggy here, but I think I'll just jump off the boat for a swim in awhile. I'm pretty sure there's no sharks in here, because a large pod of dolphins led me in here last night right around sunset. That would indicate the dolphins are patrolling the bay pretty well... and there's no sign of jellyfish. I might just take a putty knife along and scrape off a barnacle or two, while I'm at it.

A lone jetski races past. When there's a

sailboat around, it draws them like flies.

When it came time for me to start up the diesel on approach to the bay, it wouldn't start. I had noticed that the batteries seemed a bit sluggish on the electric windless that morning (I had anchored in Melaque) and so I turned the boat out to sea, and dove into the battery banks, looking for trouble. I found: a heavy cable with suspect connections; a battery post clamp, incorrectly installed (my bad); and some cells in one bank needing water (also my bad). The second bank didn't need any water all, which made me think that the badly installed battery post clamp was essentially denying my use of the entire bank. I need to do some major cleaning of the connections, but not then. So I fixed the stuff I found wrong, because at the time, I was under sail in a pitching sea.

I hauled the Honda generator into the cockpit, plugged it into the onboard charging system and started it up. after 10 minutes, I tried starting again. The starter spun the engine just fine, but still no joy.

I had once been told that when a diesel won't start, 90 percent of the time it's due to a fuel problem. So I popped off the hatch, climbed into the engine room and started tapping the main tank, from top to bottom. It was empty. Doggone! I was sure the tank was full when I moved the boat into Barra... I pulled out a jerry jug (word source in a minute) full of diesel and poured it into the tank, and sure enough... the motor started right up.

Jerry Jug: I'm reading a spy novel about the second world war that offers the source of this word... the German Army (the Jerries) made strong, heavy duty fuel cans for their vehicles. The Brits, on the other hand, used fuel tins. That should evoke in you a feeling for the substance and quality of the English-made product, and also it's lack of historical significance.

Now that I'm happily anchored in Santiago, I have a few little things left to do in the galley.

The interior of the cabinets are almost done... these shelves have a nice veneer surface now, rather than rough fiberglass... and that reminds me of a topic I wanted to touch on in this blog:

WHEN IS A BOAT A YACHT?

The definition I've seen is that any boat can be called a yacht, they're interchangeable. But, my instincts tell me that some of the ignored and  derelict boats I've seen in my travels don't warrant the name "yacht." To me, a yacht can be any size boat, but that special attention has been given to the vessel, especially refinements in it's appearance and finish. Coarse, rough fiberglass is covered, or made smooth. Scratches and tears in material is polished out and repaired or replaced. In other words, the definition of "boat" can range from a sinking wreck to a finely crafted yacht, up to a size that in can still be hauled up and placed on a "ship." (This is sort of the Navy's definition.) A yacht shows pride of ownership, or at the least the willingness to spend the money to have SOMEBODY refine and maintain the vessel.

Next, back to the cabinets, complete with photos.