Kaimusailing

After running aground north of the submarine base at King's Bay, Georgia in late afternoon daylight, I made a nice pasta meal and had some wine and then napped until the tide rose. The tide table said I'd be off at around 8 or so in the evening and I set my alarm for 8:30. When I checked around the boat I found we were indeed afloat and set off to continue on the intracoastal at night. I was relying mainly on the GPS to keep me in the channel and my Russian binoculars to make out any unlit markers along the route. I went along slowly at about 3 1/2 knots to minimize the effect of running into anything. It seemed to take forever at a bend just before entering the King's Bay naval base area. I added more speed but it didn't seem to have any effect. Also I was having trouble correlating my electronic chart display with what I could see with my own eyes. Was that dark area an island or the channel? Everything seemed wrong. Then it occurred to me that maybe the GPS was having a problem. I checked the data stream using the map software and sure enough it was frozen. I twisted the data cable and it started again. The map software then loaded the adjacent chart! I had been navigating by the lights and kept out of trouble, but nearly made a calculated blunder. In order to prevent this from happening again, I put the data stream display just off to the side so I could keep an eye on it. It was nerve wracking enough negotiating the channel at night without this added wrinkle. Another problem was caused by the map display. When running at night it has a feature to mute the brightness of the display and also use night friendly colors to help preserve night vision. Unfortunately this creates some peculiarities, such as making the channel display as dry land. I nearly tried to run between the channel and Ford Island, which wouldn't have worked out too well. I also had a problem with my stern light, it was out. As I motored past the huge submarine base a patrol boat appeared and then after I passed, began flashing its lights, like a patrol car. I figured they could come up and check me out any time they wanted, as slow as I was going, but they kept to the sub base and eventually turned off the warning lights. Friendly dolphins also escorted me away from the base. I checked ahead on the chart and found there was an inlet and further on the town of Fernandina, Florida! I was surprised to be almost in Florida.
I followed the channels and looked for a gas dock. In Fernandina was a Texaco dock all lit up and I thought perhaps they'd be open, but it was two in the morning and no one was around. I tied up and left a note to knock on the hull to wake me for gas. I got some sleep, gassed up in the morning, filled some jugs with water, and accepted a couple of stale donuts from the dockmaster.
I got underway and decided I had had enough of the intracoastal and went back up the channel and out into the Atlantic and began planning the next leg of the trip. It looked like I could make it past Cape Canaveral, but there was no inlet after the cape until Sebastian and I'd be lucky to make that by night fall the next day. Plus I had no idea what kind of inlet it was, so I called Rob who was still in Georgia, but knew this area well, and he assured me it was OK, even for me.
I worked on the GPS connector while underway on a smooth sea with 60 degree temperatures. While working on the primary GPS I used the Magellan hand held unit which also interfaced with the computer. I added clip leads to power it externally from the battery. The primary's power cable had corroded from salt and was working fine after redoing the connection. I bedded both unit's connectors with Goop, a silicone product which helps prevent the wires from breaking off from metal fatigue. While I was in my techie mode I also took apart the stern light and found the cable corroded apart. After cleaning it and Goop-ing it, it worked fine. I also tried to repair the generator recoil starter, but its return spring was broken, plush the claw that engages the flywheel was broken. Cheap Chinese plastic.
It looks like I'll hug the coast after I pass the cape and hope to make the inlet before dark tomorrow. Then it's on to Ft. Pierce. After nearly freezing to death in North Carolina and the great flood of the port hull in New Jersey, and finding the bottom so many times, there was bound to come a nice day, and on my way from Fernandina I had a beautiful day. Nice and sunny. And I fixed a lot of little problems. There was a beautiful sunset and a crescent moon, the night was as nice as the day.
With the sternlight now working I could see phosphorescence in the wash of the motor as we barrelled along. There were stars to steer her by. It was finally warm enough to stay on deck for a time and enjoy it.
My route was to Cape Canaveral and then once past the cape to hug the beach to Sebastian Inlet. There were good radio stations to listen from Daytona and Jacksonville. I found the boat would run for a time and hold course on its own. I was able to run all night with just a half hour nap with the engine idling.
At some point I noticed the sternlight was out. What could be corroding those wires so quickly? Hey, wait a minute, the other running lights are dim, did I bump the power connector? Everything seemed tight, then I got my Radio Shack meter and checked the voltage - 4 volts! And that was both the starting battery and the battery for the computer, they were jumpered together to keep both charged. Then I remembered the dead battery in Brunswick after sitting all night and the same thing in Fernandina after sitting at the gas dock for the night. Was the alternator failing and now actually completely gone? Without it the engine would die and I wouldn't be able to make shore without a nasty jury rig of sails that would mean sailing back toward St. Augustine. And no navigation lights. I turned off everything not absolutely necessary and even disconnected the lights. The alternator still wasn't charging the battery, yet the engine was running with almost no voltage. Quite a motor, that Yamaha. I climbed into the engine bay and removed the cover and looked for anything obvious. I pulled up one wire with a black plug on it and when I did so there was about 10 volts on the meter for a moment. However it retuned back to almost nothing and that wire wasn't the answer. Then I saw a little spark near the front of the engine. The umbilical cord was sparking and I lifted it clear of the water in the engine mount and all the metal there. The voltage returned. Either the wire had burned and was making an intermittent connection or was cracked and shorting to the salt water and the motor mount frame. I reasoned it was shorting to the frame at a point where it may have chafed against the front of the engine. Once it was clear of the short I could hook everything back up and charge those batteries and run the lights. I also checked the fuel line for chafe, that would have been an interesting situation, a fuel leak and sparking wire. By daybreak all the voltages were normal and I was quite relieved. Time to get the Goop out again when I anchor.
Now it was Saturday and temperature up in the 70's. Took a shower on the aft deck behind the pilothouse. It looked like peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, unless I could find some leftover groceries in the port hull. The flood had stowed things every which way. As I poked around in there I found a 1.5 liter bottle of Livingston Cabernet, hurray! I had plenty of other wine though and wasn't about to binge while out sailing by myself. Then I found a can of tuna fish! Yay, then a strange half bottle of Asahi Super Dry. That really gladdened my heart. I figured the tossing and turning had shaken the bottle so much that it fizzed out about half its contents. I thought I had finished the Super Dry a couple of weeks ago. Forget the peanut butter, this was a gourmet lunch.
This all took place off Cape Canaveral and I was amazed at the huge buildings and launch facilities that seemed to go on for miles and miles. The chart noted that the waters were unrestricted, except for trawling or dredging due to ordinance and mines on the bottom. Also spent rocket casings may fall on the area during the hours of 1930-2100. OK, we'll move along quietly.
A gale was forcast for later in the day, but it began piping up as I rounded the cape. It would increase all afternoon. I was still glad not to be in the intracoastal waterway and had logged about 125 miles from Fernandina, where a normal day's run on the intracoastal is something like 70 miles, if you don't get stuck in the muck.
I have to hold on with both hands when the gusts come through with whitecaps and rollers as I'm writing this. Hope to be at anchor by about 8 tonight after a 36 hour run.