Adventures In Boating

Eastham Creek
N 35 17.821 W 076 36.341

Well we woke up this morning to much milder weather. We resolved to leave today, despite the continued gale warnings on the weather radio. Our friends on the power boat Summer Sea left before us and they promised to radio a condition report when they got out in the river. When they did call, they said it was very rough but that they were going to continue on.

I had planned on waiting until after noon to leave because the winds were supposed to subside. However, flush with cabin fever for having waited nearly three days already, away we went.

The plan was to motor out past the shoal guarding this creek, about 2.5 miles out into the river. Then we would turn left, into the wind, and motor another 5 miles NE to the end of the Neuse River. The ICW at that point makes a nearly 180 degree turn up the Bay River. Then we could sail the rest of the way. For those who don't know. The Neuse River at it's mouth is nearly 15 miles wide and very shallow.

Everything went OK until we got out past the shoal and turned left. The wind and the steep waves together made it almost impossible for Tarwathie to make way. After 5 minutes of motoring we were still about 100 feet from the marker. We hadn't moved at all. Then, the engine abruptly died. It stopped so suddenly, there was no possible explanation except being out of fuel. Oh no! Why do things like this have to happen in adverse conditions and when we're only 100 feet from a shoal.

The depth was only 20 feet so I could have dropped the anchor immediately. Instead I elected to have Lib by take the helm while I tried to restart the engine. She steered us downwind under bare poles. Fortunately, we were blown away from the shoal, not coward it.

I opened up the engine compartment and looked inside. The port side sight glass was empty. "How the heck did that happen," I thought, "I checked the fuel just two days ago and there was 3 gallons in one tank and a full 20 in the other." I looked in the bilge. There was no spilled fuel. Then I turned and looked at the starboard tank sight gauge. It showed full. Then I looked at the fuel transfer valves. They stood in the port position. Aha! I had changed the fuel filter in Oriental, and
when doing so I fiddled with the transfer valves. When I was done I forgot to move the valves back to draw from the full tank. My fault. (of course, what else?)

Next, I had to get the engine restarted. I remembered what the owner's manual said about the fuel system being self bleeding. I sure hoped that was right because right now it was full of air. I set the fuel transfer valves to the correct position and cranked the engine. It started but died in just a few seconds. Then I worked the fuel lift pump manual valve 100 strokes, to pull fuel into the system. I cranked again. It started again but stalled immediately. I opened up the fuel filter.
The whole filter bowl was empty and full of air. At least it was clear why the engine wouldn't run.

I got a disposable cup and opened the fuel drain spigot at the bottom of the sight glass. That allowed me to fill the cup with diesel fuel. I poured the cup into the fuel filter. Worked the lift pump lever another hundred strokes, and cranked the engine again. This time it started and stayed running. Hooray! It ran rough for a little while, but within a minute it was running smoothly. Total time from engine stoppage to running smoothly again -- 10 minutes. Self bleeding is a wonderful invention.
With my old Perkins engine it would have taken 40 minutes to bleed it manually.

We turned back into the wind, but we still couldn't make any way. In the steep waves, our propeller would lift out of the water about every fourth wave. I hate doing that and I worry about cavitating the propeller. I decided to give up and turn back.

We started back, but I could sense the wind speed slacking. Therefore I changed my mind again and dropped the anchor right where we were, 2.5 miles from the shore in the Neuse River. I figured that we could judge conditions better from there.

We went below and rested for about an hour, and sure enough, the wind and waves slacked noticeably. Therefore, we set off again. This time though we were under sail. In conditions where we can't motor into the wind, we can sail. We left the motor running though to give us a speed boost. It worked OK. Within an hour or so we were up at the corner and ready to turn downwind. The rest of the day was uneventful. Now it's 19:00, an hour until dark, and we're comfortably at anchor. The wind is
down to 6 knots. The gale is well past.

Along the way we stopped at the Mayo Company to buy a fish for supper. The Mayo Company is a rather run down looking place where commercial fishermen put in to unload their catch. Sometimes they rent spare dock space to boaters.

The last time we stopped there we were impressed by the local color and interesting people. On a sailboat near us was a one-legged one-eyed man sipping whisky. This time I asked Libby to go and buy the fish but she said "no." "No," I said, "its a colorful place with characters straight out of a John Grisham novel." She replied, "If I remember right it was more like characters out of the Deliverance novel." So I went in alone.

The people in the office were very nice. A lady was about to throw away the past few day's newspapers and she asked if I wanted them. "Yes, thank you," I said. Inside there was only one man sitting in front of the pot bellied stove. Last year there were three men. I said I wanted a fish and a worker the took me out to the cold room. I picked out a $6 to but a fish, but this one cost $15. Oh well, she sure is a beauty and she'll provide us with several meals. Before leaving, the man by the
pot bellied stove asked if I would like today's Wall Street Journal. He was finished with it. "Wow! Yes thank you very much," I said. I love reading the WSJ. Deliverance characters indeed. Libby had no idea what she missed.