The truth comes out... a little McGivering at sea
30 July 2014 | Fatu Hiva, Marquesas, French Polynesia
Bill
The Truth Comes out
Well, we have to come clean now�... Now that we have been pleasantly at anchor for a few days in this iconic south sea anchorage. Now will the boat gently rocking and the palm trees swaying and the tall peaks poking into the fluffy clouds. The tall rock formations looking down on us like benevolent deities�...
Evening time on passage is the time to make sure things are put away in the cockpit and there is some time spent making sure everything is in order for the night. Also, dusk is a good time to chase down anything that might be going "thump" that might keep us from sleeping. Sometimes there is something in a cabinet that, as the boat rolls, tips a little bit and hits the cabinet door or something else. Or something in the sail locker that is rocking and making a "thump."
It had been a clear day with pleasant sailing, we were making some good progress with favorable current and a nice breeze on the beam. I was chasing down "thumps", and there was one that sounded like it came from the soul of the cockpit�... which often meant that it was in the sail locker�... but no, when I stuck my head in the sail locker, it didn't sound closer�... so I went below and stuck my head in the engine room�... a little closer, but aft�.... in the aft cabin. Now the "thump" was below me. I pulled up a floor board, hopefully looking for something rolling around there, although I was already imagining what was making the "thump". Everything under the floor was secure. I was pretty sure that I knew exactly what the problem was.
In early 2011 we had rebuilt the rudder, and had it off and on the boat several times�... so now I was able to envision the bolt that pulls the rudder post down into the tapered spline of the rudder. I knew that this "thump" was because this bolt was loose and the spline was shucking back and forth a little. The first thought was that I needed to go in the water with a mask and a 1 1/8" box wrench to tighten the bolt. Well, did I say it was dusk? and we were in 2 meter (6') waves, which was quite pleasant when sailing along, but with the boat stopped, as we would have to do to make such a repair, I would need a helmet at least.
This was not something that could be left until morning as the bronze rudder post or spine would be chewed up if it continued to shuck back and forth. I knew the post had to be pushed down�... so I opened the aft lazerrette where I could access the top of the rudder post (this is where an emergency tiller could be mounted. I stood on top of the post�... No more "thump!" Perfect, problem solved. Now, I just had to stand here while we sailed the next 1700 miles.
I started to wonder what I could substitute for my weight. Could I put the dinghy engine in some contraption, but it was not heavy enough. Maybe I could rig something that would push down on the post�... I asked Lara to stand on the post so I could look for materials to make a fix. She stood there, saying "why is this happening at dusk?" as well as some other comments that I can leave to your imagination. I suggested that she look at the beautiful night sky, which was filled with more stars than either of us had ever seen. She told me later that, after I had gone below, she saw a very bright shooting star. She made a wish!
Back in the aft cabin I looked at where the rudder post comes through the cabin at the end of out bunk. I opened up the bunk and tried to envision a way to push down on the steering quadrant. Then I noticed a weep hole in the little bulkhead just forward of the rudder bearing. I tied an Icicle hitch to the rudder post and used my Cunningham block and tackle connected to the weep hole and the Icicle Hitch to pull down on the post. The right idea, but the line stretched too much and the cam cleat didn't allow me to maintain enough pressure. I made up another block and tackle to see if with Lara and I both pulling, if we could generate enough force. Still, there was no way to lock it in place�... Lara went back to stand on the top of the post.
Suddenly I remembered that I still had the ratchet straps that we had used on the Champlain Canal to hold the mast to the deck when mast was down. And, even better, I knew where they were. I replaced my block and tackle with the ratchet strap and tightened it down�... presto. I called Lara away from the rudder post and we sat together for a while in the aft cabin, listening. No thump.
Isobel called, asking when we were going to read a bed time story�... I guess we were back to "all systems normal"�...
Footnote: We knew that we would be "OK" should the spline connection fail. The rudder is attached with two pintle and gudgeon "hinges." There was no danger of losing the rudder. The post would still go through the gland nut at the top of the bearing, so there was no danger of water coming in. We did notify Maluhia and Tewaka of our problem, they would continue to check on us twice a day. We also notified Met Bob the weather guy who was giving us weather info to give us the smoothest routing�... I re-rigged our drogue to be able to steer the boat should the fix fail and should we loose steering. And I had another ratchet strap should the first one fail.
Bill just asked me to read this. He asked me how it was - I replied "very factual." He thinks the emotion would be underlying. I'll add a few emotions. When we figured out what the problem was, my worst-case-scenario-imagining-mind went immediately to "the rudder is going to fall off and in the process put a gaping hole in the boat and we will sink - in the dark of course." I tried to remain calm and carry on so Bill could trouble shoot, but my body was having a full fight-or-flight nervous system reaction which made my legs and arms shake uncontrollably - like teeth chattering in extreme cold. I stood on the post holding on to the back stay trying to control my mind and it's very unhelpful thoughts. I asked whatever powers that be in the universe to make this a challenging learning experience, but not tragic one. A fabulous shooting star flew directly over our boat and I felt encouraged. Bill eventually rigged his temporary hold and we could take a deep breath. I couldn't even go in the aft cabin to listen to hear if the thump had returned - it made my heart race just listening. There where too many other sounds back there - the water rushing, the monitor pieces moving about making a bit of a ruckus, general noises -I hate all those extraneous noises on the boat. I'd ask Bill multiple times a day - especially at the beginning of my night watch to go back and listen for a bit. It was like the Tell Tale Heart - I always thought I was hearing that terrible noise and unfortunately it was very similar to the sound the waves made when they smacked against the hull. I'd hold my breath while Bill went back to listen - and then heave a sigh of relief when he'd return and say he didn't hear anything.