29 November 2013 | Bitter End, Virgin Gorda, BVI 18’29.79N 64’21.64W – Village Cay, Road Town, Tortola, BVI 18’25.44N 64’37.05W
We love lists on Ruffian. Lists of places to go, lists of tasks to complete and lists outlining which lists need writing. We’ve been slowly working through the jobs list since arriving in the Caribbean but there was one task that sat firmly at the top of the list and has proved to be impossible for us to tick off. That task was ‘Fix Engine’. After many phone calls, anxious days and wild goose chases we have finally managed to tick the most difficult of tasks off our list. Our engine is fixed.
We had spoken to lots of engineers in the BVIs and had lots of ‘irons in the fire’ in the hope that we could get Ruffian all up and working again in super quick time. Everyone seemed to be rammed with work and unable to take bookings for when they could see Ruffian. We’d been told by many to call after the weekend and after the charter fleets had been turned around and this we duly did.
The phone call to Compton Marine started well and got better. Derek from Compton asked if we could be in Road Town, 25 miles away by Tuesday afternoon, “No problem” we said. His engineer then raised the stakes and asked if we could be there at 8am and with a cold engine. “Errrr. No problem” we said, knowing that this was a problem. This meant that we’d be making yet another night entry into a harbour we didn’t know, around headlands that were not lit and into a marina that wasn’t open. Our low stress afternoon and evening had suddenly turned into a high stress race against the sun.
Quick as a flash we were off to Road Town and amazed the assembled charter fleet by sailing off our mooring and out through the reef. Clearly engines were overrated lumps of metal and really not required on sailing boats. Dusk came and with it complete darkness. The odd light twinkled in the gloom and lights that should have twinkled didn’t. Gingerly we made our way into Road Town and found a spot to anchor outside the marina. This proved to be so rolly that the only culinary delight we could muster for dinner was strawberry jam sandwiched between slices of Sarah’s (Seraphina) amazing homemade bread. Thanks Sarah.
Come morning, with the sun peeking over the horizon we made our way into a Marina for only the second time in a year and on the dot of 8 am, Lochy, short for Lachlan (and yes he is Scottish), from Compton Marine made his presence known. Within minutes he’d confirmed our prognosis that the heat exchanger was at fault and had whipped it off to take back to his lab for further analysis. The analysis confirmed his worst suspicions. The heat exchanger, after 23 years of faithful service, had given up the ghost and was due a place in the big scrapheap in the sky. We now just had to find, order, and get a new one delivered before the marina bankrupted us.
Our fear was that because of the Thanksgiving holiday in the USA and the curse of ‘island time’ in the Caribbean we’d be stuck for weeks in the Marina. Lochy, ever the optimist, thought we’d be out by Friday as he’d found one in Connecticut and knew how the FedEx system worked. We were more convinced that we were just being told what Lochy thought we wanted to hear and with the FedEx website saying the delivery date was way into the future we resigned ourselves to a long wait.
With time on our hands many of the jobs that we’d been putting off managed to get themselves completed. Between checking the FedEx website for the progress of our package we polished the hull, made a windscoop, flushed the engine, purchased spares and generally boat bimbled.
Lochy was giving us daily updates which didn’t agree with the FedEx website and with time ticking was still confident we’d be on our way on Friday afternoon and so it came to sundowner time on Friday afternoon. We’d popped a couple of cans and sat watching the sun fall behind the hills of Tortola and there strutting his funky stuff along the pontoon, complete with FedEx package in hand and a cheeky grin on his face was Lochy. The boy had come good and he was now giving up his Friday night to make Ruffian happy. What a legend.
With darkness falling the new heat exchanger was fitted into the hot cramped space where the old one had been removed just days before. The system was filled with antifreeze and we were now ready for the moment of truth. Would the engine be happy or would we be looking at bigger bills and even longer sadder faces?
Ruffian’s engine turned over and fired into life immediately. Water was flowing through all the pumps, around the engine, out of the exhaust and most importantly the heat exchanger was doing exactly what it should; exchanging heat. Everything looked fine and dandy and so with smiles for miles onboard Ruffian we popped yet more beer and toasted Lochy’s good health.
In celebration of Ruffian being once again a happy ship and not having to spend even more time in a marina we elected to go out for dinner. Lochy had given a number of recommendations and as we trawled around town none of these quite hit the spot. We then spotted, high up in a block of flats, a little bar with a blackboard outside and a neon sign in its window. It looked cheap, it looked authentic, it looked off the beaten track, it looked perfect.
Once we found our way up to the bar through cockroach infested stairways we were greeted with some disbelief that ‘tourists’ wanted dinner and so the chef, the barmaid’s mother, was prized away from her Puerto Rican soap opera’s to serve us miscellaneous chicken with rice and miscellaneous beef with rice. The little bar had everything you’d expect to see in a Puerto Rican soap opera, there were gangsters playing dominoes for money inside and a police superintendent propping up the bar while outside some local ‘lads’ fought over the affection of a scantily clad local beauty.
So the Ruffian all working happily, but the bill yet to be clarified and paid, our tummies full of bizarre yummy local food and the local lads having impressed the local beauty with their fighting prowess we returned to our little floating home knowing that all was well and our adventures would continue in the days to come.
What to do at the top of the rig? Admire the view, maintenance. Nope it’s a great opportunity for a ‘selfie’.
The view from above.
Clearly Ruffian is very very sick as she is tied up to a dock. Poor Ruffian!!
Lochy, of Compton Marine fame, gets to working his magic.
Out with the old.
There were a few benefits to having all the rain, but it’s a poor second to a moonbow.
Just like ‘The Karate Kid’. Wax on. Wax off.
Some more rain just for good measure.
After carrying material for only a year we finally get around to starting our wind scoop.
The engine gets yet more loving. This time being flushed with fresh water.
Fiona gets to go to the nicest of places in the Caribbean. The world renowned NAPA autoparts.
And in with the new. All the way from the U, S of A.