Ben and I woke up at 0600, made coffee, and were underway towards the open ocean by 0630. My new crewmenber is Ben Fagan. He is a multi platinum songwriter, 1st place winner of the CBS reality TV show Pirate Master, and has been voted #1 male vocalist, musician, and band by the community of Charleston for several years. Him and I are friends from Costa Rica and own property near each other there. We've had some fun in the jungle doing ATV, waterfall, and musical adventures and have sailed in the BVI together. We make a good 2 man team. I'm so excited that he made the time to come with me in between gigs in Charleston and a tour of Costa Rica that he begins in 10 days.

As we left the inlet, the seas were about 3-5' with the wind from the SE. They were stacked up pretty tight. I plowed up with the bow high, just below planing speeed and we cruised along at 15 knots, occasionally slamming, and only slightly off course to properly quarter the waves. All was going well. We were cranking tunes, and every time we got deeper the wave period increased, along with our speed. We had been cruising at 23 knots, 30 miles offshore, halfway to the Bahama Bank, and while not ideal, we were looking good. In the middle of the Gulf Stream.

Then zzZzZzZzZz! The revs kicked up on the Port engine to redline. I throttled back and after investigating the situation, in the 5 foot swells, quickly determined that the problem was likely the Starboard lower unit. This part of the engine is like the transmission in a car. It's a series of gears that bring engine power to the propeller. Mine had been rebuilt 2 years ago after taking in some water into the oil. It's a complicated job so this was likely the obvious culprit. We had lost propulsion in one engine. After some debate, we decided to head back rather than try to fix it in the Bahamas. After about 5 minutes with my head down reading, and working the problem, while sloshing around in the waves, I became seasick. I haven't been seasick in a decade, and it's a rare thing for me. I'm usually Iron Stomach, but not today.

Puking over the side, turning around in failure, with a hangover, I felt like crawling up into a ball on the floor and pouting like a baby. I was debilitated by the sickness. Where was a tree when you need one? My big crossing day that I had been planning for a long time was falling apart. But I kept my mind state practical and tried to stay positive. I was still in command of a small boat offshore and needed to keep my wits about me.
As we limped back to land on one engine at 6-7 knots for 4 hours, in a following sea, my condition improved. Having Ben and his positive attitude around was nice. As we approached land, my seasickness began to abate. I held down some food and water, and I turned on the cell phone signal booster and had Justin, Scott, Mary, and my friend Conrad in the keys all making calls to find me a trailer/place to haul out, and a new lower unit. They lit a fire under me, and I determined I was going to bust my ass and hustle to get back on the water ASAP.
I had Mary look at flights just in case. They weren’t cheap.
We made it to Justin's dock house at 1pm, got in his car, found a used lower unit for half price and talked a grumpy travelift operator named Jack into hauling us out and keeping us in the slings until we swapped out the $2000 used lower unit. We had to be done by 5pm or grumpy Jack would be mean. We went back to Justin’s. He went to get Lulu from school. I took the boat to Jack’s lift. I had graciously thanked him in the office and told him I appreciated his kindness. He said don’t tell anybody that he was nice. I said, yeah, I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation. He cracked a smile.
As he hauled the boat out of the water at 3:30 and it floated down the road in the slings, I said, “hey jack, if you weren’t so ugly, I’d kiss you right now.” This time I got a full smile. Now we’re getting somewhere.
As I watched the boat move, a thought occurred to me that perhaps it wasn’t a damaged lower unit, but maybe a spun hub. I never really diagnosed the problem at sea. I just assumed it was the whole lower unit. As soon as the boat stopped, I jumped on, put both engines in gear, checked the lower unit gear oil, and it was clean, no metal on the magnetic plug. I was right! I knew at that moment that it could get done.
We went back to the mechanic, where they were prepping the $2000 (plus rush install fees) unit. We cancelled that order and bought a used propeller, sent the old one to be re-hubbed, and ordered a spare for the port side. We went back to the boat. 9 year old Lulu supervised and gave Ben the inquisition, while Justin put on the prop nut, and I topped off the gear lube. 5 minutes later, we were heading back up the road and swingin’ in the slings. Ben had grabbed some burgers to go. We had not eaten much all day, were getting some sunburn, dehydrated, hungover, and recovering from seasickness, but I felt great as the boat splashed down at 4:35. We topped off the fuel, parked, ate burgers, jumped in pool, and cracked beers. I wish they had been margaritas, because we turned lemons to lemonade.
Total cost: $300 for the used prop. $200 for the haul! Someone else can have the expensive unit they prepped! Mine appears fine. I tipped the mechanics, and the haul out guys too. I’m so grateful it turned out to be relatively cheap and easy, despite the hassle. Everyone’s a winner.

As I sit here about to go to bed early, so we can get underway at 0330, I’m realized once again why I love doing shit like this. The salty grit, and sunny determination, combined with endurance and adventure. I could do with a bit less seasickness though. Meeting a challenge that seemed impossible and winning. Making Grumpy Jack smile. It looks like Neptune is going to smile on us too. The seas are continuing to lie down, and so will I.
Tomorrow, we will try again.