18:56.81N 49:48.66W
Sinan
Tim Kelsey
Mon 30 Nov 2009 21:13
  DAY 16 (29 November 2009)
Captain K writes:
The ups and downs of Atlantic cruising - you set
off knowing there will be ups and downs. Obviously, there will be ups
and downs - three weeks at sea; that's a given. You worry about hitting
containers and sinking, you worry about the gas cooker exploding, you worry
about one of your crew members going mad. We have a plan for all three -
including sedatives. But, of course, there's always something - a little
something that you didn't even know you'd need to plan for. And yesterday we
found it. To be honest, we've had a few quite trying days over the last week or
so - but this was the moment I really paused for breath and thought: this time
it could be pretty serious. It was a beautiful Sunday morning - sun on blue
water to a soundtrack of Handel's Coronation Anthems (Sunday, remember). Last
Sunday, at exactly this moment, the WC gave way. Today we all held our
breath. We even started to relax: the morning was passing uneventfully, the
first in several days. Since it was pretty much flat calm, Kit suggested that we
take advantage and have a swim - this is a convention for transatlantic sailors.
We doused the sails and jumped in (see Rhidian above).
Not long afterwards, I was sitting in the cockpit,
trying to finish my book (I still haven't had enough time to read more than
one!) and suddenly there was a fierce acrid smell and black smoke from the
engine exhaust. Just as I turned the engine off, Colin and I caught an ominous
ticking sound - was this overheated pistons inside the engine? Colin, already a
mast-climbing superhero, is also an expert on diesel engines; I have done the
junior qualifications. It didn't look too good. A dreadful couple of hours
ensued while we let the engine cool down. Time passed, very slowly. By now
on both sides of the boat there were a variety of nasty looking rain
squalls which we managed to avoid.
Then we switched the engine on: no ticking
noise - and the diesel leak was identified by Colin and Kit: a microscopic
hole in a tiny grommet. The engine was not lost and the pistons were fine. This
horrid little piece of rubber could have scuppered us good and proper had we not
noticed it so promptly. Colin manufactured a bodge (see picture) with a screw
and a jubilee clip which has held ever since. This was brilliant work.
The whole episode was like a nasty trauma:
everybody felt tired and deflated. Compounded by continuing light airs meaning
our boat speed is lower than we would normally expect it to be. Kit was on
galley duty and gainfully prepared a fish we had caught earlier in the day for
the oven. Twenty minutes later, he noticed he'd forgotten to switch the oven on.
All in all, day 16 was not our best.
****
RWD writes:
Crikey. That's the last time we let the skipper
near the keyboard. Talk about morose. But he does have a point about Day 16. In
the words of Alan Partridge: "Sunday. Bloody Sunday."
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