We know that it's been a few days, but we've been busy throughout the weekend working to solve a potentially major problem, although today many of the immediate issues disappeared.

The problems that we've encountered have been numerous, and many stem from our assumptions on how work would be done here. We asked for our starter to be installed. Like the Americans that we are, we foolishly assumed that the starter would not only be installed, but tested. Wouldn't you? An experienced cruiser would probably have realized that one needed to specifically ask that the unit be tested, and I didn't do that. I'll know next time. I asked that the unit be installed, and they did just that, but further work simply didn't cross their minds. In a very real sense, that's our fault.

The starter was a simple installation and we assumed that it was ready to go. On Saturday, we attended to the task of bleeding the injectors: removing air in the lines since air compresses and diesel fuel does not, and diesels compress fuel to several thousand pounds per square inch. Air is not welcomed. I prepared by changing both primary and secondary filters and bleeding the secondary. We gathered tools and began a task that Conni and I have performed many times. Conni's job is to "bump" the engine, that is, use the starter motor to rotate the engine, thereby causing the injector pump to activate. This sends diesel into the injector lines and I allow diesel fuel to leak at the injectors until no bubbles appear: I have "bled" the injector. Conni turned the key in the ignition and….nothing. The starter spun freely. Oh, NO!

We removed the starter (remember that we had payed for this to be installed and I just removed it!) and saw that the mechanism worked perfectly, so we had no explanation. Without a starter we have no engine, and without an engine, we can't negotiate the narrow passes into island lagoons. What to do? This could easily have become a trip-ending problem.

This morning, we were able to compare the old and new starters and saw that a gear needed to mesh the engine and starter was the wrong size: and this a brand new, very expensive starter shipped from England! Our mechanic, Nicholas, simply traded the starter guts that included the mis-sized gear and it worked. Amazing! I also had to track wiring and re-wire the ignitions switch for this new starter, but that was child's play compared to the starter armature replacement. Personally, I think that luck was a big part of the success.

We're poised for launch tomorrow sometime. I want Nicholas' blessing on some other issues, but we should be afloat tomorrow night. Conni's created a schedule for us to reach Tahiti in time to fetch both our crew mate, Nate, and our outboard.

Cruising: doing boat repair in exotic locations. Truer words were never spoken.

We had scheduled a full week to prepare the boat, so we're only off-schedule one day: not too bad considering the number of issues that we faced. We'll stay on a mooring tomorrow night and celebrate being on the water at long last. We still have to get sails on, and a few many other tasks, but we've worked very hard. Conni, the bruiser, has cleaned ALL of the stainless on the boat. It's NEVER had all of the stainless cleaned at one time before. She's just been a machine, working through all but the very worst of the day's heat. She's erected, single-handed, all of the canvas work in the cockpit.

We did get our hotshot new anchor installed, too. Sure is big! Our old CQR is stowed in a blue box on deck. It's quite a sight. We have two whisker poles, now: the brand new, working one, and the non-working one. We'd love sell it in Tahiti and will advertise it when we arrive.

There is a spirit of camaraderie among the cruisers in the yard, as you might imagine. Most are French, of course, with a few Aussies, Kiwis, and Germans thrown in. All are the real deal: there's no easy way to get here on a boat. Truly, I'm honored to be among them.

I met a French sailor this morning, for example. He spoke decent English, was about 40 of so, obviously a single-hander, and was OBVIOUSLY French. He had a nose like Jacque Cousteau. When people interact with me, they automatically speak whatever English they might know. There's just something American about me, I guess. At any rate, the Frenchman and I struck a conversation, as cruisers will do. He had read a lot of my favorite French cruising author, Bernard Moitessier. He was thrilled when I told him that not only did I know of Moitessier, but that he was my hero. We traded favorite Moitessier stories, and discussed the fact that his last boat was still on the hard (sailor speak for resting on land) here. Shoot, I think that it should be a national shrine. So, this Frenchman, after reading Moitessier, gathered some money together, bought a small boat, and left France 25 years ago, single-handing around the world. Wow! What a story. He finally did get his boat pulled this morning, and when I last saw him, he was working on his prop. I know that it's sampling error, being in a boat hard in French Polynesia, but still it's amazing how accomplished these others are.

Wish us luck for tomorrow. We accept good wishes.