How many shipmates does it take to change a light bulb? When that light bulb is mounted at the top of a 50-foot mast, the answer is two. Sheryl and I are happy to report that our second test at mast escalation has been passed...we are interchangeable. Last time a trip up was required, Sheryl sat in the bosun's chair and got the fabulous view. This time, it was my turn. My first trip up any mast.

Comfortably positioned in the bosun's chair, with two halyards attached, I prepared for the assent. I also wore my safety harness (designed for use on deck) and a tether. I would keep the tether wrapped around the mast as an extra precaution. Should all other systems fail, I wouldn't fall far before the tether caught on shrouds or spreaders and hung me by my armpits like a puppet. Fortunately, that did not come to pass.

Instead, Sheryl successfully lifted me to the top of the mast, where I replaced our anchor light with a new LED bulb. Then she lowered me down, simply and without incident. I felt safe the entire time, and had no issues with the height. The new anchor light should use one-tenth the power of our previous bulb and should last longer. When night fell, we turned it on and walked around the marina. The visibility is fantastic! Even better that the previous incandescent bulb.

The other seemingly simple chore for the weekend was to check our zincs. We have one in our refrigeration system and one on our engine heat exchanger. The zincs are sacrificial chunks of metal which corrode away before the other metal components of those two systems. They need to be checked regularly and replaced before they dissolve away to nothing.

I emptied out the port side sail locker and climbed into 'the box.' Although the cold front had come through, and the box was not quite as hot as it had been last weekend, it still was enough to cause a sheen of sweat to form quickly once I had curled my 6'2" frame inside. I checked the refrigerator zinc first, and it looked practically new (even after 10-months). Therefore, I simply re-installed it.

I then set about the task of checking the zinc on the heat exchanger. By this point, I was really sweaty, and the zinc was located on the opposite side of the engine from me, screwed in under the heat exchanger. I tell you this, not as an excuse, but to set the stage for what I am about to describe. I reached over and with a turn of my wrench felt the zinc turn. Another turn, and it appeared to loosen. Two more turns, however, and it seemed to tighten again? Confused, I poked my head up out of the locker and took in some cooler air. I went back down and only then realized that I had turned the wrong way and tightened instead of loosened! I quickly loosened the zinc assembly and we took a look at it.

The old zinc had some wear, but not much. It was obvious, though, that I had turned the zinc in too far and had 'crushed' some of the top of the old zinc against something inside the heat exchanger. To give you a better feel for this assembly, the photo below shows a new zinc. The zinc element is held on a bronze plug which screws into the bottom of the heat exchanger.





Sheryl and I put on a new zinc and prepared to replace the plug. I was worried that I may have stripped some threads, so I asked Sheryl to apply some Teflon tape. We installed and tested it by running the engine. No leaks, thank goodness. It wasn't until I had re-packed the locker and was standing in the shower that I realized my HUGE mistake. Teflon tape would electrically isolate the zinc from the rest of the heat exchanger, making it totally useless. Stupid me!

I silently berated myself, while I unpacked the sail locker again. Then I removed the zinc (turning the correct way this time). When I removed the tape and re-tightened the plug, we checked for leaks by starting the engine again. My fears about stripped threads were realized. The plug LEAKED seawater. I tried to tighten a little more, only to feel the tell-tale snug-slip which suggests stripped threads, and the leaking continued. I told Sheryl to shut down the engine, and I loosened the plug again. This time only the plug fell out. The zinc had broken off!! I quickly punched my pinky up into the hole and felt it sitting there. I was able to slowly lower it off the threads and out. Whew!!

We had more zincs, but the leaking problem really had me worried. I was certain that I had ruined the threads, and was concerned about continually trying to re-tighten the plug (for fear of making it even worse). I asked Sheryl if it was alright if I changed into my swimsuit and went to the pool. She joined me and we discussed the situation while soaking in the shallow end. Initially, the only thing I could think of was to seal the leaking plug with Teflon tape, and be ready with a new heat exchanger when the current one gave way due to corrosion. Then it hit me. Cut the zinc. I told Sheryl my idea, and we jumped from the pool to try it out.

It was obvious from my initial blunder that the zinc was hitting something inside the heat exchanger. If I cut a little off the end of the zinc, perhaps I could tighten the plug a little further and bite some unused threads further in. Sheryl handed me a pair of vice-grips and a hacksaw, and I had a quarter inch off the end of the zinc in no time.

We installed the plug with shortened zinc and started the motor. NO LEAKS!!! I was too emotionally worn out to be elated. It was good that I could eventually triumph over my own stupidity, but the mistakes I made had caused a simple project to turn into a major issue, unnecessarily. The 'what ifs' nagged at my mind. What if I had stripped something more critical, in a cruising area where we could not get a replacement? When cruising, I must not make such stupid mistakes. Self doubt about my readiness to embark upon this journey into the realm of the self-reliant loomed large in my mind.

I needed some downtime. So we repacked the locker, put away the tools, and spent the late afternoon and evening of a cloudy and cooler August day watching internet TV. A bad reality TV show, no less. It was sufficiently mind-numbing to take all my cares and troubles away (along with any semblance of conscious thought).

Tomorrow is NO CHORES day. Tune in for what I am sure will be a slightly more upbeat tale.