Our Mercury 2-stroke wasn't working right. It idled badly and at full throttle, it had no power. We sat in Honey Moon cove, 2.5 miles from Escondido, and I decided it was time I had a look inside. I picked the coolest part of the day to work: 3:00 - 5:00 pm. I popped the cover - there was no going back. Armed with my Costco toolbox, my newly acquired Carb cleaner, and a roll of paper towels I was ready to do battle.

After removing the carb, I held it in my hands. I marveled at its simplicity. It was at that moment that I noticed that it had pee'd on me; my shorts had gas all over them. Now it was war! I grabbed some fuel/oil absorption rags and went to work.

After taking it apart, I sprayed the whole thing with carb cleaner. I decided to check the choke. It's a blue button and it was just asking to be pressed. I pressed it. The carb shot me in the face with gas. It was only due to my cat-like reflexes and my safety sunglasses that I was saved from blindness.

I carefully put the carb back together. There's a certain satisfaction that comes from a job well done. I just hoped that it would work. I held my breath and pulled the starter. It didn't start.

I pulled again. I looked around to see if anyone was watching me. The cove we were in was empty. I pulled the starter for a twenty more minutes and gave up in mass exhaustion. Sweat poured down my face. My arms and back were sore. I was covered in gas. I could hear the engine snicker at me each time I pulled the starter. It didn't even try to start.

After dinner, it was cooler. I decided to give it another shot. I pulled the whole carb off again, and shot the whole thing again with carb cleaner. I pulled until the sun went down. I went to bed and dreamed about the evil outboard.

In the morning I was re-energized. I felt better. I stepped back into the dinghy. I cleared the spark plugs. I told the outboard that it looked nice today. I pulled the starter. Nothing. I told the outboard that was a piece of junk. It still didn't start. I pulled until a boat came in the cove. I quickly put the cover back on the outboard. I tried to give the illusion that I'd just fixed it and all was good. I quickly ducked inside and waited for them to leave.

After my nap, I decided it was time to search for answers. I put on my swimming trunks and swam to shore. Before me was the great mountain of HoneyMoon cove. I started to climb. As I followed the trail up the mountain, I looked back at the boat and Kathy was waving to me. I wondered what she was up to. She better not leave me here...

I ran out of approved Loreto national park trail, and switched to the ultra advanced goat trail. It was tougher, but I worked my way up the hill. "The answer's on top of that hill," I said to myself, "I just need to get there." I climbed up the loose rock completely disregarding how I was going to get down. I was on a mission of truth.

Once at the top, I could see for miles. I soon realized three things though: 1) there were no answers up here; 2) I wasn't sure that I could make it down; and 3) it was getting dark.

I carefully worked my way down the mountain and only slipped once or twice (20 times; I nearly killed myself). I swam back to shore. I jumped in the dinghy, pulled the starter, and gave up. It had become my routine now.

That night, I swallowed my pride and sent emails asking for guidance. I'd recently read Apllo 13 and the ground crew supposed to solve all the problems. I just needed to contact them. They would get a simulation 2-stroke outboard and figure out what I should do.

My father answered telling me that all his information was obsolete. True, but not helpful. One of my friends answered that it was probably the carb, although he wasn't sure. A third friend answered that I should really buy a 4-stroke engine. I carefully weighed each point and decided that I was all on my own. I guess you have to pay the ground crew, or somethin'.

We had met a couple at the Sunday brunch in Escondido that had a boat business there. I called him on the radio and he gave me a couple of things to try. To be honest, I wasn't interested in trying anything - I just wanted someone to fix it for me. Nothing worked.

The next day we pulled up anchor and headed for Escondido. I would beg, plead, sell children - anything to get someone to fix my outboard.

I met Elvin, the owner of PEMS (Puerto Escondid Marine Service) and asked him if he could fix my outboard. He told me to put it in his truck and he'd have a look at it on Monday. I can't tell you how elated I was. I was very depressed for failing. I had a chance for redemption.

At brunch we met the boat Pythagoras and they had two girls on board that we're the same age as ours. They were fellow Christians and we hit it off. Sometimes when situations are at their lowest, God sends a friend.

That evening we met on another boat and had claims, fish, and scallops. We had a great time getting to know everyone. Having spent most of our trip in isolation, it was nice to finally have some company. Casey would ask everyone what their most embarrassing cruising situation was and to get things rolling, would tell one of ours; and then another; and another. You couldn't shut the girl up.

The next day Dale from Pythagoras and I went to Elvin's house. Elvin's married to Connie and he's Sea Lover and she's Sun Lover. They live on the beach at Juncalito in a palapa. They kind of own the place and everyone knows them. Elvin took Dale and I to the back yard and we started working on the dinghy next to the shed. Elvin took the carb apart and I started counting in my head how many times the carb had been pulled apart. This was number 4. Elvin was smoking a pipe as he worked on it and Dale and I instinctively took a few steps back.

After Elvin looked and it and deemed my work acceptable, we put it back together. We tried to start it. Nothing. He got out the big guns: Starter Fluid. Nothing. We took the plugs out and they were wet. We cleaned the plugs and tried again. Nothing. We took the carb apart again. Still counting: number 5.

Elvin held the throttle wide open without allowing the motor to be in gear and it started. I couldn't believe it, the outboard lives! Dale, Elvin and I smiled. It was great! Elvin let go of the throttle and it died. We got a bucket of water out and placed the outboard in it. We restarted the engine and gunned it. We let the throttle go and it died. There were several theories on why the outboard wouldn't idle: it was either air, fuel, or spark. We suspected that it had to something with the carb though.

Elvin, Dale and I were stumped after an hour. Elvin volunteered to take it to the Mercury dealer in Loreto. I didn't know that there was a Mercury dealer so I was pretty excited. I went home, ate lunch and came back.

As we drove to Loreto Elvin told me his life story. He grew up in Sacramento, moved to Bolivia to get his Journeyman card and spent the next 40 years out of the United States. He speaks four languages.

We arrived at the Mercury dealer and Elvin explained in Spanish what was wrong with the outboard. The head mechanic dropped everything he was doing and started working on it. I couldn't believe it. In the US they say, "Yeah. We'll take a look at it next week. We'll let you know." The other cool thing was that I got to watch. By this time I was dying to know how I had killed it.

The mechanic took the carb apart (number 6) and checked everything. As he checked the choke, he shot himself in the arm. Sure, its not the face; but it still seemed like a rookie move. My confidence was shaken.

He deemed my work acceptable and put the carb back together. He started the outboard using Elvin's trick of holding the throttle open. It started, but wouldn't idle.

The mechanic took it apart again (number 7) and checked everything again. One thing was clear. The carb was getting too much gas. The engine kept flooding. As he mechanic put the carb back together Elvin asked him what he did. Nothing. He was just hoping that it would work once he put it back together.

After the 11th disassembly the mechanic was starting to narrow in on the problem. The carb was getting too much gas. He just couldn't figure out why. I was learning a lot watching him figure it out though. In the last hour he'd done a series of tricks to try and figure out the problem. I was taking lots of mental notes.

Elvin asked him if it could be the choke. The mechanic had disregarded it because he'd been shot in the arm with gas earlier when testing it. Out of desperation, he pulled the choke apart. He smiled. I was missing a part.

It seems that I'd inadvertently dropped a ball-bearing when I put the choke back together so many days ago. The ball-bearing prevents gas from being sucked through the choke when the engine is running. This was great news. All we had to do was get another ball-bearing. One problem: the mechanic didn't have one.

We searched all over the shop and couldn't find one. The mechanic had Elvin and I got through tray after tray of parts. He eventually found a slightly larger bar bearing.

The mechanic spent 3 hours messing with it and charged me 40 US dollars. Elvin drove me home and told me I only needed to pay him for gas. He'd spent the whole day with me.

So, looking back I could see God's hand in it all: We met another couple with kids, got to eat claims, we met bunch of people in Juancalito, and the whole outboard problem was easily taken care of.