It was that time of year again. I flew around the globe for work. I’ve been with my employer for over 10 years now and have travelled thousands of miles by air. I really enjoy business trips, even though in my current job they involve longer-than-average flights from Mexico to Asia. Since I once got a pilot’s license and I’m fascinated by anything that flies, I don’t mind the long flights at all. And I always look forward to seeing my workmates again.

A Rocky Start

This time, my travels took me back to Bangkok. Pati stayed alone on Milagros. Time in Thailand flew by, and soon I was back in Guaymas and aboard Milagros. Three months ago, we travelled to Mexico with the plan to stay in Guaymas for a maximum of three weeks. Yet here we were, still there. Three months had passed, and we still hadn’t set sail, and the boat was just sitting in a marina. This situation frustrated me massively upon my return, which didn’t exactly contribute to a good atmosphere on board.

Hard to Believe

Everything, absolutely everything, annoyed me. Life on a sailboat, I’m telling you. Sometimes we’re just exhausted and grumpy. We read and heard a lot beforehand. It’s a lot of work – it’s more work in every respect than we could have ever imagined. It’s fantastic – it’s breathtakingly beautiful and will leave a lasting impression on us. You have to experience it yourself to even begin to imagine this lifestyle. But enough of the meaningful talk. For where there is shade, there is also light. Apart from the friction, we’ve also experienced many great things again.

But the Journey Continues

Disclaimer, a load of tech-talk follows! Pati tackled many, many tasks on the boat while I was away. What was still missing was a regulator for our alternator. With our new lithium battery bank, it was in danger. Our new batteries can absorb many times more energy at once for charging than their predecessors. Actually, as much as they can. That makes them great, but also dangerous, because you practically have to protect the rest of the system from their energy cravings.

Safety First

Hungry lithium batteries in an unprotected system could overload individual components because they would want to draw too much power. And what happens with an overload and too much energy in an electrical system? Right – heat. And with too much heat? Exactly – sparks and fire. And what do we not want aboard Milagros? Correct – sparks and fire. So, we had to regulate the power supply for our new batteries.

Overload Protection

An alternator can be a victim of overload. Like in your car, it’s attached to the engine and converts the engine’s rotations into electricity. Depending on its size, an alternator can only deliver a limited amount of power. The lithium batteries on board Milagros couldn’t care less about this limit. They would simply suck the poor alternator dry, overload it, and burn it out.

Enter the Regulator

This is where the regulator comes into play. It is wired between the alternator and the batteries. As the name implies, it regulates the flow of electricity from the alternator to the batteries, allowing you to define exactly how much power the alternator should/must deliver. Fortunately, our two friends on SV Holoholo had exactly such a regulator lying around unused on board. And our electrical guru Lucas was still around, so we seized the opportunity to install it.

An Upgrade is Necessary

Lucas, as always, spent hours with us, patiently providing advice and assistance. In return, we fed him with everything the galley had to offer. And who would have thought? We needed a new, larger alternator. Our current alternator was too small for the new system. I’ll spare you more details; enough of another deep dive into boat technology.

Adding a Boat Touch

After the usual detours, a few days later we were proud owners of a new, over four times stronger, and affordable alternator. However, it needed some modifications to its wiring to convert it from “car mode” to “boat mode” – from an internal to an external regulator, to be precise. Easier said than done, as most Mexican workshops only know the “car mode”.

The Conversion Process

When we arrived at our trusted workshop with our new alternator, we felt that the mechanic had actually understood our instructions. We were even allowed to watch him make the adjustments. A young employee jumped in shock when unfamiliar faces suddenly appeared behind the counter. Unfortunately, in Mexico, that often means “attack,” and the alarm bells were ringing for him. Sorry for that! Shortly after, the boss got to work. Note the posters on the wall in the background. That’s what a real workshop should look like, right?

A Mexican-Style Conversion

Back on Milagros, what Lucas had secretly suspected (and what we had also suspected while watching) was confirmed. The adjustments were “mexicanized,” as we lovingly call it when it works but doesn’t have to be perfect or last long. In this case, the work was good enough for an old Mexican car, but not for a sailboat that can’t just pull over if it smokes and sparks in the engine room. So Lucas promptly took everything apart again and rebuilt it better. And behold – everything worked splendidly after installation.

A Genius at Work

We can’t thank the Polish kraken (Lucas) enough for his help. He is a living legend, who has even been honoured with T-shirts. He helps wherever he can on countless boats in Guaymas and San Carlos and is simply a genius. We don’t know what we would do without him. Unfortunately, because of his helpfulness, he neglects the work on his own boat, as he says.

Cheers to Lucas

We want to lend Lucas a helping hand, so all donations in the beer fund for this post will be reinvested directly into “Modelo Negro,” his Mexican beer of choice! So, get out your wallets and credit cards! Let’s make Lucas happy together! Click the link below the post (or this one) and help us replenish Lucas’s beer supply.

Ready, Set, Go

Now we were actually ready to set sail. Despite low morale on board, we wanted to take a shot and cover a one-and-a-half-day passage to Topolobampo as quickly as possible. You already know about our (non-existent) love for nighttime sailing. But one night should be doable. So, one morning, we set off bright and early. But it just wasn’t meant to be.

A bad start

As soon as we left our berth, Milagros did as she pleased. No matter how much I tried to steer, Milagros just did her own thing. So, we did a complete 360° pirouette in reverse in the marina basin, in very limited space with only one meter (3 ft) of water under the keel. All I could do was guide the boat through the turn in a controlled manner before we could exit the marina in the right direction. Luckily, no one saw that. The wind vane’s rudder was not fixed and thus completely distorted all my steering movements.

It Doesn’t Get Better

But that wasn’t all. We had barely left the supposedly safe marina basin when the stress continued. Not only had fishermen, with limitless foresight, laid a net across half the channel through which we had to exit. No, Pati had already positioned herself at the bow with a flashlight when we realized that we also had to navigate through a minefield of crab traps. Everywhere, floating PET bottles on ropes leading into the depths. First-class traps not only for crabs but also for boat propellers. Thanks for that, dear fishermen. So much for night sailing.

And Another Thing

Whoever thought that was it, is mistaken. Just as the passage was clear again and we wanted to put our little autopilot into operation on the open water, its plug spun and wouldn’t work. Too much for me. Screw Topolobampo, screw the Mexican mainland, Panama, and screw sailing altogether. Swearing and cursing, we anchored in Bahia Carricito. We didn’t know if our autopilot had kicked the bucket or simply had a loose connection. And with the bad mood, we weren’t in the mood for this long haul. So we missed the good weather window.

A rare sight

What lifted our mood though was a very unusual weather phenomenon: rain! It had been cloudy all morning that day, but when the rain started, it just wouldn’t stop. For one hour it just kept raining. You might wonder why rain would lift our mood. Because it never rains, and when it does, it’s usually just a few drops. So, we sat in the cockpit just enjoying this wonderful moment.

That’s It

And for the subsequent days, we just did absolutely nothing. Nada. Niente. When we had pulled ourselves together again, we quickly agreed on one thing – making day-long crossings and covering as many nautical miles southwards was simply not on the cards at the moment. The whole situation was a bit too fragile, and the nerves were severely strained. We decided to take it day by day. And behold – the moods calmed down again. Maybe we subconsciously put more pressure on ourselves with our Panama plans than we had thought.

You never stop learning, especially not on a sailboat. What happens next? Who knows – we have no idea. Time will tell. Anything is possible.

Der Beitrag Sailing Through Turbulent Waters erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

A maze of memories

The 41 hours from La Paz to Mazatlán were beautiful, extremely arduous, fascinating, scary, extremely easy, extremely difficult. It was up and down and up and down and up and down. I have noticed that this is what I struggle most with since living on Milagros. The constant changes in mindset, morale and level of happiness and comfort. Nothing is ever constant on a sailboat. Everything can change within short periods of time. A lot of people say that that’s where the beauty of cruising life lies for them. Not for me.

A storm of thoughts

What we have both noticed on our crossing to Mazatlàn is nothing new, really. We still don’t like being underway at night. Once the sun sets and the night covers the boat, we feel like we just have to give up a little too much control. We both feel that way. Sometimes, even in daylight, I have the feeling that I’m constantly pushing the limits of my comfort zone, and this is even more noticeable at night. Even the smallest occurrences or unusual things stress me out and my reaction to them is not always the best. I quickly degenerate into a grumbling bundle of nerves that just thinks everything is shit. Boating sucks, the sea state is horrible, waves are the worst, fuck sailing in particular, all is crap.

Change in mindset

Just as quickly my mindset can change in the other direction. It only has to be a shooting star crossing the sky at night or a fish jumping out of the water during the day and I’m completely zen. And it’s been like this for more than two years now. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. The constant swings can be exhausting. I feel that I’m exhausted a lot. Not physically, but mentally.

Next stop – Isla Isabela

All of us were exhausted after our trip from La Paz, not only me. The fact that I also slit my hand the next morning only helped to a limited extent. But what the heck – show must go on, after all we wanted to arrive in Panama at some point, so we started the passage planning. The next stop was going to be a very special one, one that was highly praised by every single visitor. Isla Isabela.

Yet another nightly passage

Located almost 85 nautical miles southeast of Mazatlán, it is a breeding ground for hundreds of thousands of seabirds. There were hymns of praise for the place from all sailors who have visited. But what was the name of the visit? A passage overnight. Argh. It takes almost 17 hours to reach the island from Mazatlàn. The skippers and crew almost went crazy with anticipation. Not. But we had no choice.

Next stop – not Isla Isabela

While on the phone with my parents I was just about to announce our departure while Pati was checking the oil on Burrito in the engine room. She came back with a sober expression on her face. “We’re not going anywhere” she said. We had oil dilution. What that means is that an unfamiliar substance has found its way into our oil. In most cases, this is diesel or cooling water. Departure cancelled. There are many causes for oil dilution, one of them being a leaking cylinder head gasket, which would involve a lot of time and work. We really hoped it wasn’t the gasket because we wanted moooooove. But the cause was quickly found: we had diesel in our oil, because our BRANDNEW lift pump broke. Now we also knew why the engine didn’t want to start during the crossing. After our ordeal back in Peñasco, at least we knew what we had to do.

Pulling our hair

It was just horrid. After months of our engine purring wonderfully, our confidence in it was back to zero within a few days. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. The pump was quickly bypassed with a piece of diesel hose with a suitable connection that we still had aboard. And with the addition of a small electric diesel pump, we were able to temporarily fix the problem. After an oil change and a 3-hour test run of the engine to see if it worked, we were able to start our journey towards Isla Isabela with a day of delay.

On the way in the dark

The crossing went smoothly. We set out in daylight and a good wind, set the sails and had fantastic weather. The waves were moderate, the wind was steady at around 15 knots. Just like Milagros and we like it. Unfortunately, all the fun was over in the evening and Burrito had to go to work. This time he started up smoothly and moved us through the night to the southeast. The most exciting thing that happened? We moved passed a sailboat that was sitting completely still with its sails set and flapping, and we passed the buoy of a fishing net way too close for comfort. Those kinds of threats are simply invisible in the dark. So much for night time passages and giving up control.

There she is – Isla Isabela

At the crack of dawn and with the first light of day, Isla Isabela National Park appeared. And wow, we weren’t promised too much beforehand. The place is often called «the Galapagos of Mexico». The sky was full of frigatebirds, blue boobies, pelicans and many other bird species. They circled overhead over and around the island in the warm morning light, and their “talks” could be heard loudly from the shore. Unfortunately, we had already seen from afar the many anchor lights that lined the island.

Easy Come Easy Go

It quickly became clear that a stay would not work out. We wanted to make ourselves comfortable on the east end of the island. The closer we got to the island, the more anchor lights from other boats appeared along the shores of the rocky island. At the east end, three boats were already gently rocking over the sandbank that would have been our target anchorage. We still tried to find a spot, tough. However, we didn’t feel 100% comfortable dropping our anchor ultra-close (by our standards at least) next to another vessel in 12 meters of water with no idea of what to expect of the seabed. So, we called off “Operation Visit Isla Isabela”. But not without a little sightseeing tour around the island.

Safety first

In the main bay at the southern end of the island, which is known for its rocky bottom with only small sandbanks, there were a mere 8 boats at anchor. Maybe all the anchors had found sandy bottom, maybe they had found boulders. Who knows? But we didn’t want to anchor there anyway, we’ve heard too many stories of snagged, broken, fouled and lost anchor gear. So, we embarked on a leisurely cruise around the island and are now even more interested in visiting it. Then we turned back to the southeast and thus to the bay of Chacala.

And then I stabbed myself again

And guess what happened on the way there: I stabbed my wrist with a knife. Great, right? I did that when I wanted to kill a fish that we had caught on the way. The big unlucky animal that bit the rubber squid was a beautiful Pacific Crevalle Jack. The other big unlucky animal who now had two holes on the same arm was me. It wasn’t deep or big, but I must have pricked a tendon. Now I couldn’t use my right hand anymore at all and Pati had to make use of the fish. I was so fed up, you cannot even imagine.

Hello Chacala!

Luckily, we arrived in Chacala soon after. A sandy beach, palm trees, beach bars and the good side of sailing life awaited. However, we also had to be prepared for possible uncomfortable nights. In our navigation program sailors wrote of swell, which could roll undisturbed into the bay. So, it was time for yet another first time: We had to make use of our stern anchor. A stern anchor prevents the boat from turning unfavorably in wind and current, possibly putting your boat sideways to incoming waves or getting too close to possible obstacles. With the use of a stern anchor, you can thus move the bow and stern of the boat in the desired direction and prevent the ship from moving around too much. This keeps the ship aligned at the right angle to the waves or keeps it away from dangers in small, sketchy or crowded anchorages.

No problemo!

Said and done. We wrestled our big stern anchor and anchor rode into our dinghy and took the equipment towards the beach. Flo gradually let out line from the stern of Milagros and when we found a suitable position, we dropped the anchor. Everything worked like a charm and soon we were able to enjoy the view comfortably rocking in the cockpit.

Discovering the beauty of Chacala

Chacala is a small village on a beautiful, long, picture-postcard sandy beach lined with many small restaurants. Behind the village, lush greenery borders the hilly landscape. It was very nice to look at and of course we had to see it up close right away. After a quick zoom ashore in our trusted deflatable dinghy we stood barefoot on the beach and sipped on three ice cold margaritas. The next few days we spent with everything that makes life on a sailboat beautiful. Balm for our battered souls.

Finally, greenery!

We were especially looking forward to the vegetation after two years in the desert. So of course, we didn’t miss the opportunity to go for a walk in the forests that surround the cute little town of Chacala. We were accompanied by a friendly doggo, which we quickly christened “Schoggi” (which is swiss German for chocolate), because of its brown coat. She accompanied us all the way up into the forest. We were only stopped by the guard at a pompous entrance to a private property. Back on the boat, we met up with friends from all the boats we knew that were also anchored in Chacala, enjoyed tacos made with the fish we had caught, or walked through the village, where, among other things, I was finally able to have the threads of my knife cut removed at the local health center.

Florian gets the full range

Our good friend and crewmate Flo got the full range of highs and lows on a sailboat. The dark clouds had lifted again and we were sitting on a palm-lined beach, sipping alcoholic beverages of all kinds. Where Flo had recently been seasick burying his head in the toilet, he now buried his feet in the sand. Our idea that we could continue from Chacala to La Cruz only met with limited approval from him. He would rather stay in Chacala a little longer. Enough of the sailing adventures for now. Enough of the constant Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Flo’s conclusion

This is also Flo’s conclusion of his sailing adventure with us on Milagros. Highlights for him were visiting Chacala, meeting other sailors, experiencing bioluminescence, spotting whales and dolphins and being adventurous with friends. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the technical issues we encountered, the moral lows, seasickness and David’s hand accidents – I would say it was a 360° experience for him with all that entails the cruising life. It’s not just summer, sun, sunshine and champagne sailing.

We continue to La Cruz

The time we had together was short and soon we were getting Flo to the early morning bus that was supposed to take him to the Puerto Vallarta airport. We also packed our belongings, raised both our stern and bow anchor and motored comfortably in the direction of La Cruz. At anchor there we had to prepare the ship again for the next visit of two friends from Switzerland.

You know what’s also going up. down. up. down? Our beer stash. You can contribute to our beer kitty by clicking the button below to choose your favourite method. You can also become a monthly contributor by heading over to Patreon. Thanks a lot!

Help maintaining our beer stash!

Der Beitrag Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Two days before our departure from Peñasco, our adventure almost came to an end. When we returned from an errand run, I noticed that Milagros was no longer moored in the same place. She must have moved somehow, because the water and electricity panel were right in front of where we boarded our boat, which they weren’t before. But we didn’t think about it any further. Then the boat neighbour told us that in our absence a steel fishing boat had crashed into the dock. All of a sudden, we realized the damage to the dock when our neighbour told us that he had seen the fishing boat graze Milagros. We immediately panicked: Had the metal colossus damaged our new paint job??? But we quickly realised that “only” the bowsprit and the anchor roller were bent, and the navigation light was damaged.

It could have ended badly

When our neighbour told us how the collision had happened, our hair stood on end. The fishing boat’s reverse gear had jammed, and the boat had therefore crashed backwards into the dock. Just a few feet to the right, it would have been our boat, not the dock. And Milagros might not have been there anymore. What a shock! Milagros has once again lived up to her name!

And we still think the name is great, despite a comment we recently overheard from a Sea Shepherd crew member about Milagros when they were in Peñasco with their boat “Sharpie” and moored behind us with their dinghy: “Yet another shitty boat name”. In their campaing called “Milagro”, Sea Sheperd is fighting illegal fishing with gill nets in the northern Sea of Cortez these days. Good thing they are here, but obviously they don’t have taste in boat names.

Costs, work and annoyance

The harbour master had already issued a no leave order for the culprit, so they could not leave the harbour until the damage had been paid for. Marga from Dogfish Boatworks made a damage report on the same day, which we submitted immediately. And the various party boat operators at the docks of Fonature Marine were pretty confident that we will receive compensation. The damage amounts to about 1,500 $ and means work and annoyance, of course. Fortunately, this damage didn’t stop us from leaving Peñasco. Instead, something else did.

It’s not happening

On Monday morning, the 24th of January 2022 at 8.00 am sharp, we wanted to untie the lines. It was high tide and there was a nice weather window to cover the 140 nautical miles to our first anchorage. Doug and Marga came over to wave goodbye and even the harbour master was there to bring us our papers. David started the engine and 5 seconds later it stopped again. We tried a few more times to start the engine, to no avail. That was the beginning of the end. It was not happening; we were not heading out! We then made coffee. What else was there to do? We quickly realised that it might take longer to solve the problem.

Diesel engines are frugal

In theory, diesel engines are not very demanding: they need air, diesel, compression and, of course, enough cranking amps to run. If the engine simply stops, it is often due to a lack of diesel supply. This can be caused by empty tanks, clogged lines, closed supply valves, non-functioning valves, air in the diesel system, insufficient venting of the tanks, a defective diesel pump, dirty filters, and algae, among other things.

Air in the system?

We had full tanks, a clean air filter and enough cranking power – we knew that for sure. Marga brought us the necessary tools for a pressure test of the system to find any air leaks. We spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for ourselves and finding the leak(s) in the system by testing different sections. In the process, we pressurized our diesel fuel lines and smeared soap foam on all the fittings. We found a leak at the diesel lift pump, appearing as soap bubbles rising from two small screws.

Bad ventilation?

As we had suspected already that something was wrong with our fuel tank vents, we also opened the deck fills. We could hear air being sucked into both tanks. There was also a loud popping noise, which indicated a vacuum. So, the vent hoses had to be replaced. Our theory at this point was that we had created a vacuum in the diesel system during the last test run. The leaking diesel lift pump then caused the system to fill with air. This meant that the injectors were not getting enough fuel.

Larger hoses needed

So, our next task was to get larger diesel hoses for the vents. The previous diameter of 3/16” was far too small, and we wanted to upgrade to 5/8” hose. Our friend Lionel from the Caterpillar store recommended a small shop just around the corner where we immediately found what we were looking for. Unfortunately, they only had 12 ft in stock, and we needed 50 ft. But the shop owner was able to order the hose we needed for the next day. And since we had to disassemble the whole boat anyway, we also ordered a hose to improve the vent lines of the water tank, which was also inadequate.

An art project

In the meantime, we devoted ourselves to a long-delayed beautification project on Milagros. Some time ago, we had the French artist Marine Marcus make us a table inlay with animals from the Sea of Cortez. So, we unscrewed the top of our dining table, put it in the next best place sheltered from the wind (the marina shower) and doused the inlay with tabletop epoxy. It was nice to just take care of a nice, cosmetic project for ourselves during this frustrating time.

As if a bomb had hit

Once the new hoses had arrived, we began one of the most tedious jobs we’ve ever had to do on Milagros. Not only did we have to get behind the wall liner by clearing out cabinets, but we also had to take out the recently installed water tank again, as it is directly above one of the diesel tanks and its fittings. Inside Milagros it looked like a bomb had hit the boat. And since the new hoses were much bigger than the old ones, none of the fittings fit anymore, nor did they fit through the holes. At one point I even damaged a 110V power cable trying to make the passage bigger. It was a completely and utterly shitty day.

But in the end, everything was installed as we wanted. Nevertheless, our engine wouldn’t start even after sufficient bleeding. Somehow less diesel arrived at the injectors than we remembered. We had checked our Racor primary filters for clogging, only to find that the connected electric diesel pump was mounted on the wrong side of them. Instead of pulling diesel through the filters, the pump was pushing diesel into the filters. We fixed that immediately. We also replaced 2 valves that we didn’t know exactly how or if they were working.

More to be found

We also found out that our starter battery was dead, which was disguised by the way it was wired into the system. The fact that it was dead didn’t matter as we could also start the engine from our house bank, but a new battery was still needed. The next day we took our old battery to a battery shop where it was tested. Of the 900 units of cold cranking amps, there were 29 left. However, as befits Milagros, the new battery had slightly larger terminals, so we had to drill our cable connectors larger to be able to connect to the battery.

We were at our wit’s end

After all, we contacted Doug, a local diesel mechanic, because we were stuck and needed help. Together with him we found out that the diesel lift pump was stuck in priming mode and therefore not enough diesel was coming into the distribution. So, we set off again to get the parts we needed to bypass this pump. But after that, there was still not enough diesel coming out of the distributor. We also checked the secondary filter there, which looked OK. Therefore, we removed the whole distributor, cleaned it thoroughly and replaced the filter. Afterwards, when we bled the engine, the diesel did indeed squirt out of the bleed screws. But the engine still wouldn’t start.

Algae?

Doug suspected from the small black particles and the yellowish colour of the diesel in our primary filters that we might have algae. These are micro-organisms that multiply in diesel tanks and clog everything up. They need water and air to do this. We had made the mistake of not filling our diesel tanks to the top (=air) before hauling out and in summer the humidity was quite high (=water), which could well explain an infestation. Since the construction of our diesel tanks is far from optimal and we have no inspection hatches, an infestation could be super annoying. However, we were able to rule out a diesel infestation by circulating the diesel from both tanks through the filters, and the contaminants did not multiply. Lucky us!

Poor Betty

That same evening we were less fortunate. At 10pm there was a banging on our boat – it was the night guard. Something had happened to Betty, the boatyard car. Betty was parked on the road in front of the marina and no longer looked like herself. Betty had broken windows, a flat tyre, and a big dent. The security guard told us that a car came speeding along and hit poor Betty. Of course, he had committed a hit-and-run after wrecking the car an entire boatyard relied upon. What in the hell was going on this week?! The police took an accident report, but it was impossible for sure to find the car involved in the accident. Although the vehicle must have been quite damaged, it would not be noticed here as a lot cars are on the roads in such a condition here in Puerto Peñasco.

The last straw

5 days after our failed departure, our engine still wasn’t running. We also missed our next good weather window, which was additionally annoying. Nevertheless, we met up with Marga from SV Dogfish and Marc & Laura from SV Liquid for tacos and drinks. Marga suggested that we could play around with the engine before dinner, which we did. To eliminate sources of error, she suggested running the engine on a jerry can. So, we changed the diesel supply and bled the engine again.

A miracle!

On the first try, the engine wouldn’t start. But on the second try, it started. Cheers broke out on board Milagros. We had really earned our dinner! The next day we reconnected the engine to the diesel system and it started immediately. What exactly had made the difference, we don’t really know.

An instructive week

We had changed all the filters, had rebuilt and cleaned the diesel distribution system, relocated the electric diesel pump, bypassed the diesel lift pump, replaced two valves, enlarged the vent hoses and pressure tested the entire system. So, within a week, we had taken our entire diesel system apart and put it back together.

At this point we would like to thank Marga for her fantastic continous and patient support with her knowledge! Also the cruising community has been super supportive in word and deed and sympathised with us. Although this was probably the worst week since we started the refit here in Peñasco, we were glad that we were able to solve the problem here in the marina and not somewhere along the way or at an anchorage without internet access. We still can’t believe how much bad luck we had in just one week: the accident with the fishing boat, the engine damage, and the accident with Betty. Things can only get better from here.

Wanna cheer us up? Feel free to buy us a beer or two by clicking on the button below. Or you could become a monthly supporter on Patreon if you feel like it. Many thanks!

Cheers!

Der Beitrag It’s Not Happening! We’re Not Heading Out! erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Prologue to the chain plates

You will remember the episode with the parcel in Mexico – the package that had only found its way to its destination in California after some back and forth. We had ordered new titanium chain plates from Colligo Marine. And to make sure to get exact copies, we sent our old ones there. A few weeks later they were to be delivered. Pretty simple, isn’t it?

Prologue to the water tank

It was a similar story with the new water tank. We had chosen the model, built it out of wood, determined the position of the fittings, put them in the corresponding technical drawing and ordered it. Actually, we wanted to install the fittings ourselves, but the manufacturer Ronco Plastics insisted that it would be better to have this done directly by them. Again, the delivery time should be about 3-4 weeks.

The spectacle begins

We ordered both in the same week and 6 weeks later both packages arrived on the same day. Actually, like Christmas and Easter on the same day. Except that our initial euphoria quickly faded. Dave unpacked the first new chain plate and compared it with the old one. And well, what can I say. They were not identical. We also unpacked the remaining 6 chain plates and 2 backing plates and things went from bad to worse.

It wasn’t just the one that didn’t fit exactly. It was all of them! Some too thick, some too thin, some too long, some holes not where they should be, too small an angle in the bend and wrongly bevelled edges. The full programme! We still had the faint hope that it was all just a bad dream. So, we ate fresh empanadas together with the other residents of the yard to distract ourselves a little.

This does not fit

But the next morning, despite twisting and turning, the new chain plates still didn’t quite want to match the old chain plates. I documented all the discrepancies and we called Colligo Marine. We directly had the boss on the phone, who immediately apologised and wanted to give us our money back without discussion after seeing the photos. He also offered us that we could send back the wrong chain plates and they would send us new ones. However, our challenge was the time factor. Could we wait another 6 weeks for new chain plates?

If it doesn’t fit, use a bigger hammer

We had discussed the chain plate situation with Marga beforehand. For the holes that were not quite in the right place, we could make the holes in the boat fit. For the plates that were too thick, we could enlarge the hole in the deck. We couldn’t see the effect of the backstay plate not being at quite the right angle until the mast was back in, but that requires the chain plates to be fitted. And we still had to clarify with the manufacturer of the rigging whether we could compensate for the almost 1-inch extra length of 2 chain plates.

But we came to the conclusion that we could make the boat fit with a few days’ effort. However, we would have preferred to have the chain plates fitted to the boat without any extra effort. So, we told Colligo our decision and they refunded us the same day. We exchanged money for time so to speak – free titanium chain plates, but extra work.

It continues

After this debacle, we looked at our new water tank and noticed that one of the four fittings was not in the right place. Was that really necessary? We sent an email to our contact person and asked what our options were now. The answer came surprisingly quickly – in the months before, mails were only answered after a few days and calls usually went straight to voicemail without a call back. Seriously, it took us a week to pay for the tank because we just couldn’t get hold of the company to give them our credit card details over the phone. And no, it wasn’t because of the time zone.

That’s not how it works

We were also surprised by the content of the mail: no apologies, but we could do the installation of the fitting ourselves in the right place and plug the wrong hole. Or we could send the tank back and they would correct the installation. So actually, do what we had been advised not to do, or send back a package on an odyssey again and wait another 6 weeks. We did not want to do that. After some queries and our counter-suggestion that they should send us a new tank directly while we sent the old one back, an even more surprising answer followed. That was not possible, they said, and besides, they had installed the fittings exactly where we had marked them. Boom.

Or was it?

We did not agree with that at all. In Swiss style, we replied in a discreet but firm email saying, among other things, that our drawing was correct but their installation was wrong. After all, three out of four installations were in the right place. And that we couldn’t wait another six weeks for a new tank. We don’t know exactly what happened after that. Anyway, two hours later came an apology and an offer that they would send us a new tank for free the very next day. Wow – we were still a bit disappointed, but happy about the quick solution to the problem. And we may find a place on Milagros for the water tank with the wrong installation and double our water reserves in one fell swoop. 2 for 1, so to speak.

The next surprise?

Now that two special orders had already gone wrong for us, we immediately had to unpack our new rigging and check it too. We had left it packed to keep it clean for as long as possible. So, we grabbed Betty, the yard car, and took the old and the new rigging to the paint booth. We laid everything side by side to check the lengths. We were very pleased to find that everything was right – except for one missing turnbuckle. The manufacturer Hayes Rigging immediately sent us the missing part, and so the rigging is now complete.

Another custom-made part

The fourth custom-made part was our new gooseneck (the attachment of the boom to the mast). We sent all the specifications, including mast profile and template, to Garhauer Marine and 2 weeks later we were supposed to have the finished fitting in our hands. 5 weeks later it finally found its way to us. After our previous experiences, we were a little nervous, but still in good spirits. But when we unpacked the shiny new stainless-steel piece, we immediately saw that it didn’t look like it should. And the fit check confirmed it: the thing didn’t fit. That simply couldn’t be true. We can now send the part back and it will be made to fit. It will probably be back here within a week. And finally, as with the chain plates, the water tank and the rigging, everything will probably be fine.

Why?

But how many times is the same story going to repeat itself? How can it be? Why don’t things work out right away? Why do our nerves always have to be strained first? What could we do differently? We spend hours discussing solutions, documenting, phoning, emailing, adjusting, sending back, etc. We don’t know what the problem is. These are well-known US companies in the marine industry, and our custom designs are not exotic. Is it our sketches or our Swiss way of communicating? Is it the lack of competition? What about quality control? But maybe it’s all normal and it’s because of my personal expectations of American quality and customer service.

But in the end, we always find good solutions – like with our new freeboard paint, by the way. Our will to persevere, our motivation and our resilience are greatly challenged by this, but also strengthened. Nevertheless: enough is enough.

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Der Beitrag All Just A Bad Dream? erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

The five stages of grief

The realisation that all the work on our freeboard was for nothing sits still in our bones. After this paint shock, we went through all five phases of grief in a very short time.

Denial

First came denial. We thought it must be a misdiagnosis and if we just let the paint dry long enough, everything would be fine. It couldn’t be that bad. Or could it?

Anger

Then came the anger. Trying to find someone to blame in frustration. Was it our own fault? Was it too humid or too hot? Did we not clean the surface properly? Was the paint sprayed on too thick? A faulty primer? Was the compressor dirty? Was the manufacturer’s data sheet insufficient? Questions upon questions that we can never answer conclusively. It’s probably a combination of a few factors. And we knew from the start that virtually all the negative reviews of this paint contained exactly our problem.

Negotiation

Next, it was time to negotiate. We thought we should just leave the paint on and deal with it later. But our egos wouldn’t allow that. After all, the freeboard is practically the only visible part of our refit. And there was still that small spark of hope that maybe the paint would cure after all. But even 2 weeks later, the adhesion test showed only a barely noticeable improvement.

Depression

After that, we fell into depression. We regretted the decision to have chosen this paint. That we had used a one-component primer. And that we hadn’t noticed it earlier. And anyway: why doesn’t everything just work on ships? Why are we doing all this to ourselves anyway? With the same money we would have already travelled halfway around the world with the backpack. We should sell the boat.

Acceptance

Finally, the acceptance came. A salesman from Alexseal – our original paint choice – took pity on us and offered us a super deal, which we accepted gratefully practically without hesitation. We resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to sand for several days (again!). But we decided not to start sanding until the paint was on its way to us. Because of Covid, there was a shortage of raw materials in the US, so certain paint components were always missing. And as we all know, nothing is simple. So, in the meantime, we moved on to other projects.

Composting head

Our composting head from Airhead was delivered a few weeks early and still needed to be installed. We had already screwed the whole construction together and now we still had to install the ventilation. To do this, we removed the ceiling panelling to connect a small fan to the mains and install a switch for it. Actually, this fan should run constantly to ensure optimal composting. However, the fan is only 3 feet away from my head when I sleep. Therefore, I want to have the option to turn it off at night in case its noise bothers me too much. And hey, that was the first switch either of us ever installed in our lives. And it worked. Once again, a small success.

Our new mast platform

While we were waiting for our new boom fitting, we started to reassemble the mast. So, we had all the excess holes welded shut by Pancho and painted everything with aluminium primer and white paint. We designed a platform to install our new anemometer and Windex on top of the mast. The aim was to keep the navigation light, anchor light, antenna and both wind indicators out of the way. We cut the platform from our old water tanks, had Pancho weld it and then painted it.

Internally threaded what?

To attach them to the mast, we had to drill new holes, which also needed an internal thread. To do this we drilled core holes and then cut internal threads. Mat kindly showed us how to do this properly and also provided us with the tools we needed to do this. For the 1/4-20 screws (1/4-inch diameter with 20 threads per inch) we needed a 13/64-inch drill bit. This is of course not included in our basic drill set. And we don’t have an internal thread set either. But now we have nice new threads in a couple of places on the mast.

Dulce in distress

One morning just before noon we found the yard cat Dulce out on our deck. We had wondered where she was, as she has been living on our boat during the day for months, enjoying the air conditioning. She usually leaves the boat when we go to sleep and comes back in when we wake up. The day before, however, she had not shown up. Now she was lying there completely exhausted and dirty. We carried her below deck and checked her for injuries. Fortunately, we found none, except that all her claws were completely worn out. She could hardly walk and looked pretty destroyed. And her breathing was very fast.

What should we do?

We decided to observe her for a while and if she didn’t get better, we would take her to the vet. We put her water and food down and let her rest. In the evening, as we celebrated the birthday of Nic, our neighbour on SV Rua Hatu, with fresh oysters from the barbecue, it suddenly occurred to us that Dulce might have to do her business. We quickly filled a paint tray with Dulce’s toilet sand and brought it to her. Not even 10 seconds later she was using it as if she had never done anything else.

Changed

Fortunately, her condition improved overnight. After 24 hours, she managed to clean herself. But she still looked quite stiff, as if she had been through a great effort. When she bit and scratched me as I petted her, we knew she was fine again. We will probably never know what really happened to her. Maybe she fell in or got trapped somewhere and could only free herself with difficulty. Or maybe she was hit by a car and wore out all her claws trying to hold on to the asphalt. All we know is that her personality has changed somewhat. She is calmer now, much less rambunctious and has lost a little elegance in her jumps.

Make it fit

Unfortunately, the lows were not long in coming again. When we tried to put the spreaders back on, they didn’t fit. All four of them! If we hadn’t taken them off ourselves, we wouldn’t have believed they once fitted. We just couldn’t believe that the aluminium had suddenly increased in size. But with every single spreader, the Dremel had to go to work and enlarge one of the holes for the screws. For whatever reason…

Pulling in the lines

Before we started working on the mast, we had replaced all the halyards with placeholder lines. Now we wanted to haul in the lines. Three of the four lines that run through the inside of the mast go to the top of the mast. When we started to pull the first line back into the mast using the placeholder line, the other two placeholder lines accidentally came with it. So, we lost two out of three in one go. Once in the mast, we could only pull them out at the bottom. However, we still had one left with which we could pull more lines through the mast.

A near disaster

But when the remaining placeholder line with the line attached got tangled, the swearing started. We tried everything, including turning the mast (which meant removing the spreader on one side again). Eventually we found that the thin placeholder line was stuck between the tube for the power cables and the screws of a mast fitting we had attached the day before. The much thicker line just wouldn’t fit through there and got stuck. We wiped the sweat from our foreheads and pulled the lines back in one by one. All’s well that ends well. We were lucky.

With difficulty

Then we were able to reattach the mast sheaves over which the lines run at the top of the mast and reattach the tangs with our new bolts. It sounds easy, but it was a test of patience. I’ll leave out the details though. It was just tedious.

Working on the cooling system

While I watched Rob from SV Mapache cleaning the parts of his disassembled engine, we started talking a bit about engines. I told him that we had moved the expansion tank (part of the engine cooling system) inside the engine compartment and that brown, thick coolant was dripping from the hose. When was the last time we changed the coolant and cleaned the heat exchanger, he asked me? Um, well, we’ve never done that in the last two years. But since it’s something that should be done regularly, it went straight onto our to-do list. It was a task that could be done well in the midday heat.

Design flaw

In the engine manual, I found the drain hole for the coolant and initially drained the two gallons or so. When I opened the lid and tried to get the heat exchanger out, the exhaust was in the way. Now I really had to unscrew the exhaust! This seems to be a design flaw in the exhaust, because as I said, the heat exchanger should be cleaned regularly – preferably once per season. A dirty heat exchanger can lead to overheating (especially in these latitudes) and thus shorten the life of the engine.

Cleaning with muriatic acid

Rob also needed to clean his heat exchanger, so he came by one morning with a bucket and muriatic acid. We mixed the acid with water in a 1:3 ratio and let the acid clean the many small copper tubes. In our heat exchanger, 3 of the pipes were clogged with pieces of rubber. Sometime before our time, an impeller of the water pump must have lost a few pieces. This reduced the cooling capacity by about 10%, which is not insignificant.

The Hydra of the boat

As always, the completion of a task led to new tasks. For one thing, we had to order new bolts to fix the exhaust, as the old ones were quite rusty. Secondly, we discovered a damp spot on the exhaust with heavy corrosion, which was hidden by the heat shield. Now we have to find out if our exhaust has a hole and needs to be welded.

Electrical installation

Some time ago we fixed the problem with the stray current. The neutral phase and the ground were mistakenly connected to each other, which among other things had caused David to get electrocuted from the boat and the paint had peeled off due to corrosion on our mast. However, we had other things to correct about our grounding. Firstly, the ground of our AC system (110V) was not connected to the ground of the DC system (12V), and secondly, the housing of our inverter was not earthed. And because it’s so nice, we also discovered that our galvanic isolator (protection against leakage current from outside) was wired incorrectly.

Cable tangle?

We needed green (colour code for AC mains grounding) AWG 6 cable, terminals and crimping pliers for that size. And here, as always, the classic: we had none of this on board, because it went beyond the standard sizes. But once again we were able to get everything from other sailors here in the boatyard. So, we dug through our cables and tried to understand which cable now had to go where. Luckily our personal electrical consultant Cavu Dave was there to help us. In the end, everything found its place and everything now seems to be in order.

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Der Beitrag From A for Acceptance to W for Wrecked erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

One would like to think that it is hot and dry here in the desert. It is not. Not even close. In addition, to the intense solar radiation, there came level of humidity that sometimes exceeded 90% during the night. The temperatures don’t bother us as much as the atmosphere created by the humidity. It doesn’t matter if you just stand around lazily or do some physical activity, the result is the same. Within minutes you’re drowning in sweat.

Let’s go

Enough crying around, we finally had to stick with it. After I had removed our cracked gooseneck, the remains had to be removed, too. So, I got to work armed with our angle grinder. I worked my way forward under an easy-up we had borrowed, removing our old fitting bit by bit until we had a clean mast surface.

Where are the blueprints?

Garhauer Marine in the USA will manufacture our new fitting. I also made contact with the CEO of LeFiell, originally the manufacturer of the mast and boom of the Kelly Peterson 44. Unfortunately, the company has withdrawn from the marine sector, but maybe I can get hold of the original blueprints. That would not only help us but also other current and future owners of the ship. The Kelly Peterson 44 owners group homepage is already filled with all kinds of useful data about our boat, so these plans would certainly be in good hands. Let’s see what can be done.

We help Skookum

After always asking for help from other boat owners, we were finally able to give back something else than only beer and tacos. Stu from SV Skookum V had a fiberglass project on his boat for which he could use our help. After the approximately 10 million repaired osmosis bubbles on Milagros, we now knew how to work the stuff. So, we exchanged ideas and met early in the morning on his beautiful catamaran. The weather didn’t quite play along. Hurricane Nora had just rushed along the Pacific coast of Mexico and brought thick rain clouds and thunderstorms as far as Puerto Peñasco. Torrents of rain could be seen on the horizon. Should we start glassing or not? Was the thunderstorm approaching? Yes? No?

The disaster takes its course

Pati and Stu were reluctant. But not me. Apparently, I was convincing enough so we took the risk and got to work. A bulkhead on Stu’s ship had to be repaired due to water damage. He had fitted a wooden plate and this now had to be reinforced with fiberglass. So, we worked ourselves forward and meanwhile I always kept an eye on the rain, which seemed to be pulling past Puerto Peñasco. We wish. Turns out one should not turn to me for weather forecasts.

Peñasco is drowning in rain

Suddenly the rain came anyway. We were just finishing one side of the bulkhead when thick raindrops fell from the sky. This quickly showed where the water damage to the original bulkhead on Skookum came from. The water ran down the mast of the boat and directly poured over our freshly glassed surface. With everything we could get our hands on, we tried to limit the damage until we gave up. The rain increased steadily, and when we rewarded ourselves for our bad decision with sweets in the great Candycake, the rain flooded Peñasco.

Here comes the flood

Since we didn’t have enough money with us (of course), I drove to the bank in the pouring rain, where the credit card didn’t work (of course!!). So back to Milagros. In the meantime, entire streets were under water, including the boatyard. Luckily, I had my Crocs on so I could wade through the puddles. Best shoes ever. Whoever states otherwise is just wrong. Who knows, maybe I’ll grow a few extra toes soon. The ground in the boatyard must be toxic and dirty. At least I was able to put on dry clothes and a rain jacket. Back at Candycake we treated ourselves with the best apple fritters on the planet.

Of hurricanes and typhoons

Back at the boatyard we had to bring the engine of SV Mapache to safety. It was standing on a pallet in the huge puddle that had formed under the boat. Everything was fine, we just had to move it to a safe spot. It was crazy how much water had come from the sky that morning, I hadn’t seen anything like it in a long time. Considering that these were only the remnants of a hurricane, you can imagine what kind of weather such a storm would bring. I was able to experience typhoon “Mangkhut” first hand in Hong Kong in 2018 and it is just impressive how much power and destructiveness nature can produce.

We need more water!

Working outdoors was out of the question. It was windy and wet. So, I dedicated myself to doing dishes. Since we still don’t have a water tank on board, our water supply consists of a hose fed from the water system at the Cabrales Boatyard. The fact that I sometimes have a housefly’s ability to concentrate has now become my undoing. While the hose was filling the sink, I devoted myself to other activities and only noticed my forgetfulness when there was already a puddle of water in our refrigerator. I had flooded the galley.

We need coffee in the water!

On top of that: During the corresponding freaking out, I knocked over my coffee mug, which landed on the floor and now dripped into the bilge, among other things. When we opened the bilge, we found water. That was never the case so far, unless the water came from our rusted old water tanks. But these were no longer in the boat. So, the water had to come from somewhere else. In the end we came to the conclusion that it had to be rainwater. Since we had removed the old chainplates and were waiting for our new titanium chainplates from Colligo Marine, water could penetrate through the holes in the deck and collect in the bilge. Great great great. What a day. It was time to take a break. After more than half a year in Puerto Peñasco we now know a bunch of nice spots where we can just hang and relax.

Knockout blow at the end of the day

You think it won’t get any better? Well, think again! Pancho did a great job while spraying our hull, but unfortunately left too much paint in a few places. When Pati examined these areas, she noticed that the finished coat had no adhesion to the primer. At first, we had the hope that this would only be the case for the spots where there was too much paint on the hull. After a few tests it was clear: all of our paintwork was for nothing. The topcoat simply hadn’t bonded to the primer. Shock. What now?

Do it all again

We think we can prepare for a major sanding job (again). After a phonecall, Totalboat immediately refunded us for the paint. Still, that’s just a small consolation. We are now back to zero when it comes to topsides paint. All the hours of prep, sanding, cleaning – for nothing. If we sand everything off again, which colour do we choose afterwards? What if everything goes wrong again? It is a first heavy low point in our still young sailing career. Let’s see where the journey leads. We have to collect ourselves now first. Get up, adjust our crowns, carry on.

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Der Beitrag A Day to Forget About erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Prologue

Milagros gets a new standing rigging (wire ropes holding the mast). On this occasion we are also replacing 7 chain plates and 2 backing plates to which these wire ropes are attached to the boat. We have found a company in California that can make these 9 plates for us out of titanium. To make sure that we get exact copies, we wanted to ship these 15 kg of stainless steel to California.

Act one: find a shipping company

Shipping a package to the US should be pretty easy – we thought. Well. DHL, UPS and FedEx as worldwide known companies spontaneously came to our mind. Briefly checked online, we were slightly shocked. Costs were up to $ 180. Quite expensive! The cheapest option would have been to give it to someone travelling to the US who could send it domestically. But we didn’t have that option at that moment. So we bit the bullet and opted for a variant with UPS, which has a longer delivery time and where the price doesn’t hurt as much.

Act two: placing the order

However, it quickly turned out that sending something across the border to the US was quite complicated. Various details about the contents, including the invoice for customs, had to be input. But how do you explain “unusable, partially corroded stainless steel chain plates” to customs? And what is their value? To the best of our knowledge, we compiled the information and then – these documents had to be printed out. Of course, we don’t have a printer. Kindly, an employee of the boatyard printed out the documents for us. Using old cardboard boxes, duct tape and a clear envelope, we put the package together and added the necessary documents and signatures.

Act three: Having the package picked up

We chose a time slot between 9am and 12pm at Astillero Cabrales as our pick-up time. We didn’t have high hopes that this would work. Although it had to work, because we had delayed the delivery until the last moment (the day of our departure) – for whatever reason. Anyway, even at 1pm, no one had come to pick up the package. So I searched the internet for a place where we could drop the package. So with 15 kg of stainless steel under my arm, I entered the shipping point. But they didn’t know anything about dropping off UPS packages there. But a helpful employee gave me the private phone number of the UPS man who was responsible for picking up the packages in Puerto Peñasco.

Act Four: Posting the package

In the car park, I called this number and was connected to “my” man: the UPS mailman named Samael. I dug out my best Spanish and learned that he was indeed supposed to pick up a package in Astillero Cabrales that day. Literally, he said he would pick it up “ahorita”. This can mean either “immediately” or “in a minute, in ten minutes, in an hour, whenever I can make it…”. He would call me when he got there. I was already bracing myself for the worst. Our bus to the airport didn’t leave until 9pm, but the package simply had to be sent the same day. A Mexican who had overheard my phone call in the car park offered to help. He knew a little English and offered to help me translate into Spanish.

Act Five: Sending the parcel on its way

But 10 minutes later my phone rang, he was there now. Again with the package under my arm, I stood in front of the gate, but saw no UPS car far and wide. So when I called him again, a mobile phone rang in a rather run-down, wine-red car parked at the side of the road. A man of about the same age as me wearing a worn UPS waistcoat got out, his companion stayed in the car. On his mobile phone he showed me the UPS pick-up order, which matched my shipping order. Well, well. So I gave him the package.

Act Five: Tracking the Parcel

Back in Switzerland, we checked the status of the shipment with the tracking code. We started sweating when we saw that, according to UPS, the package had not yet been picked up. But what could we do? So we decided to just wait a little longer. Maybe the problem would be solved with time. And then we completely forgot about the package. One day after the scheduled delivery date, it suddenly came back to us. According to the tracking, however, the status of the parcel had not changed. Our pulse immediately went up. Where was the parcel? Had I made a mistake by simply dropping the parcel off? Was it now lost?

Act Six: The Search for the Parcel

So I contacted Samael via WhatsApp and asked him if he knew what had happened to the parcel. It had been taken to Hermosillo by UPS truck the next day, but he could check, he said. So I sent him the tracking code. 5 hours later I got the information from him that the package was held back in Hermosillo because the documents for customs were missing. And he sent us pictures of the parcel. For the time being, relief spread.

With the help of Google Translate, I explained to him where I had put the documents (in the transparent folder taped to the outside, as required by UPS) and also sent them to him again via WhatsApp. But according to the UPS tracking, the package was still in our hands, nota bene. When was UPS going to tell us that the documents were missing? We received no email, no phone call, no notification. What if I didn’t have Samael’s private number?

An hour later, Samael told me that UPS had found the documents and the package was now on its way. I thanked him warmly and was glad that Samael had stood up for us and didn’t just not care what happened to the package.

Act Seven: The package is on its way

After a delay of 10 days, the package was sent to the USA. The first time, the status in the tracking now changed and a new expected delivery date was given 2 days later. But after this date passed without the package arriving at its destination, we received a status update again. It was now stuck at customs. And we would have to provide some additional information. Oh great. But we didn’t know what, and we couldn’t find out more or submit anything online. When we emailed customer service to ask what we should do, we got a status update the same day that the package was now through customs.

Final act?

In the meantime, 16 days have passed since we posted the package in Puerto Peñasco. And it still hasn’t arrived at its destination. We, on the other hand, are more or less back in Mexico. How will the story end?

Our motto these days is: Give me coffee to change the things I can and beer to accept those that I cannot.

Wanna help us accept?

Der Beitrag A Parcel in Mexico – a Short Story erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Due to our planned “holiday” in Switzerland, we almost got into stress again because of the painting of the topsides. Just now, when we were ready, the weather was not. When Pancho had applied the primer, it was actually already too windy and too hot. But since it was “only” the primer, it didn’t really matter. But now we wanted to spray the first coat of topcoat – and that really depends on optimal conditions. Of course, the best thing would be to rent the paint booth, but for reasons that didn’t work out before we left. Since the primer is not UV-resistant, we really had to apply this first coat.

Getting ready

We kept watching the wind forecasts and then ordered Pancho for a morning that looked ok – not ideal, but not bad either. He was to start spraying at 6am, as the sun was not yet shining on the topsides and it was not yet too hot. In the 7 days that had passed since the primer was applied, we filled the last small holes and sanded the surface with 220 grit sandpaper. Then we washed the topsides with soap and water and waited for good weather.

Swiss mind trap

When the time came, we got up very early to put the plastic cover back on, wipe the topsides with a tack cloth and make the final preparations. When the church clock struck 6 (not really, because churches don’t do that here or we just don’t hear it), there was no Pancho. Probably Swiss mind trap again. 6 o’clock in the morning is 6 o’clock in the morning in Switzerland. In Mexico, it’s more of a guideline. But at 6.30am Pancho was there and ready for action. Just in time, because the sun was already starting to warm up the hull.

Will it succeed?

We were really nervous. We (especially Dave) had already invested so many hours in the topsides. Sanding, fairing, sanding, painting, sanding, fairing, sanding, painting, etc. The completion of this project was long overdue, but somehow something always came up – it was as if our topsides were jinxed. For example, when we were preparing the plastic covering to spray on the primer, there were gusts of up to 47 knots (about 90 km/h) that night. This tore the plastic in some places and Dave had to get up in the middle of the night to do damage control. Normally the wind does not blow so strongly at this time of year. Besides, we had opted for the inexpensive one-component paint and were therefore a bit worried whether the result would be convincing.

A mirror

After an hour, Pancho had finished spraying. I couldn’t see the result because I stayed on the boat while spraying to assist from above. And I had to stay up there until the paint was dry enough and we dared to put the ladder back up. But Dave was very pleased with the result! Milagros shone like crazy and the surroundings were reflected in the surface.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who, now, is the fairest one of all?
Over the seven seas, beyond the seventh attempt,
in the yard of Puerto Peñasco, dwells Milagros,
fairest of them all.

Follow-up

We were going to take care of the many, many insects that were stuck in the paint and thought it was water after the paint had dried through. And when it rained briefly (which doesn’t really happen here at this time of year), the paint had fortunately dried sufficiently. Unfortunately, the wind picked up and blew the plastic into the paint in some places. This should not be a problem, as we will have to sand the surface again before the next coat of paint. We will take care of these imperfections when we are back from Switzerland.

It is (not) noticeable

From afar, however, no one has noticed these imperfections. We have received congratulations from all over for the paint job. It stands out because it is really beautiful and shiny. And hardly any other boat in the boatyard shines as bright as our Milagros. Let’s see how long this paint stays so beautiful And Milagros finally doesn’t look shabby anymore. It’s really enjoyable to look at her again. We celebrated our success with a small but pleasant pool party. Two fellow cruisers invited the remaining Cabralians to their place in a local caravan park, where they were currently the only residents. Therefore, we had the pool all to ourselves.

New thru hull

We were able to (almost) cross another project off the list: One of the two new thru hulls – the one for the kitchen sink – has now been installed. We enlisted Marga‘s help for this, as we had great respect for drilling a hole in the hull and installing something so critical ourselves. If you don’t do it right, the boat can sink. Now that we know how to do it, we will install the second thru hull ourselves. Anyway. We could now connect the waste water hose from the sink to the new thru hull and close the last hole in the hull. Check.

The rudder is repaired

The rudder project also took two steps forward (and one back). We had decided that the rudder was still good enough for one season in the Sea of Cortez. Rebuilding the rudder now is just too much. Therefore, we closed the two inspection holes. To do this we glued in fibreglass plugs with epoxy, then sanded down a dent and sealed it with three layers of fibreglass mat.

When filling the exposed area on the rudder stock, we accidentally made epoxy foam. We were a little embarrassed to have made this rookie mistake after so many months. What had happened?

Chemistry for beginners

Epoxy is sensitive to temperature and volume. When the mixture catalyses, energy is released in the form of heat; a so-called exothermic reaction takes place in which the chemical bonds form and the resin hardens. The higher the ambient temperature and the volume of epoxy used, the greater the heat generated. If the epoxy layer is too thick, the ambient air is too warm or the previous layer has not yet cooled down, too much heat will be generated. Then bubbles and smoke form. In our case, the 3 factors came together and our work started to boil. So, we had to start anew.

Brute force – once again

There were still bolts and screws on our mast that wouldn’t come loose. Marga had the idea that we would meet at Milagros for beer and pizza on a Friday and take care of these recalcitrants. And we did, but only after beer and pizza. Late at night, Marga was highly motivated to break the will of these studs. Marc from SV Liquid provided two long metal tubes as levers. And lo and behold: 2 of the 3 bolts moved. Unfortunately, we couldn’t take care of the third one – it had a different diameter (for whatever reason) and – surprise – we didn’t have the right size. But at least two were loose now.

Vaccination jungle

For the trip home, we wanted to make sure that our vaccinations would be accepted en route. Above all, we were concerned that the date of birth required by Switzerland was not on our certificate. To this end, we pursued two different approaches simultaneously.

A dead end

Approach No. 1 was to try to get confirmation of vaccination from a doctor. Salvador, the boatyard manager, gave us the contact details of a doctor in Peñasco. We sent him a short text with all the information we needed on the confirmation. Two days later we were able to pick up the letters. Maybe I made the mistake of asking how much it cost. However, the receptionist could not tell us. But when we looked at the letters, we almost had a stroke. They were from a plastic surgeon and contained spelling mistakes. One should have expected that at least the vaccine was spelled correctly. But it wasn’t. A little later I got the message that we had to come by again to pay. They wanted a whopping $ 80 from us! We refused and simply brought the letters back.

It gets complicated

Therefore, we tried to find another doctor. To do this, I called a clinic, which then referred us to the general hospital. We paid a visit to the hospital and were first sent to a guard by the pharmacist there, who then spoke to a doctor, who in turn referred us to another doctor two blocks away. There we sat in the waiting room and when it was our turn, we explained our situation to the doctor. Her suggestion was that we could go to the lab around the corner for an antibody test and then she could give us a medical certificate. And so, we went to the lab, which was closed at the time. Later I called them and found out that a test costs $ 75 and the result is available within 2 hours. We kept this info in mind.

The forwarding

Approach No. 2 was to try to get the digital certificate. The problem was that when we entered our number to download, an error message appeared. An employee of the boatyard supported us and phoned various authorities – unfortunately without success. In the end, she could only pass on the recommendation to contact the “Centro de Salud Urbano”. We did so and were referred to the “Centro para el Bienestar” by a very nice employee. There, the vaccination cards were being sorted and entered into the system. The assumption was that our documents had simply not been digitised yet and that they could perhaps do this quickly on site.

Back to the beginning

Our hopes were quickly dashed. The staff there were handling all sorts of vaccination cards that looked exactly like ours. We were told, however, that on the one hand they were quite behind in entering the data, but also that the system was generally not working at the moment. But we were assured that what we had in our hands was the official vaccination proof.

What next?

So, we had done everything we could without getting a reasonable result. Therefore, we decided to take it easy. All 56 million vaccinated Mexicans had “only” this paper, too. The biggest joke: we sent our Mexican vaccination certificates to the Swiss Federal Office of Public Health on a trial basis and received the official Swiss vaccination certificate within 4 hours. Haha. All the trouble in Mexico was for nothing.

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Celebrate with us Milagros’ new look!

Der Beitrag Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

“Do something you love and you’ll never have to work again.” “If you do something for yourself, it’s easy to get up in the morning.” That may be true, but it hasn’t always been that way since we returned to the yard. Unfortunately, freedom doesn’t mean you don’t “have to” anymore. We have all the time in the world, but we don’t want to live in the dusty boatyard forever. We would love to get out of here right away. At least into the water – away from the dirt, away from the noise. But that’s not possible, because our boat is not ready yet. And we still have a lot of work to do.

Meeeeeh

Sometimes we just don’t feel like doing some of the work. Because boat work isn’t always as much fun as you might expect. Even if we like our new lifestyle, that doesn’t automatically mean we enjoy every aspect of it. If a stuck screw can’t be loosened even after the fifth time of hitting it and greasing it, then enough is enough. Climbing into long-sleeved clothes at over 30 degrees (despite air conditioning) to cut out a water tank – not subject to pleasure tax.

And then crawl into the bilge to undo a tank bracket, which of course is attached at the other end. Get umpteen quotes for the new rigging and compare them. Sand down the hull for what feels like the hundredth time.

Well, sometimes we just have to do the work listlessly. The heat, the dust, the lack of experience, the many options, the dependencies on other people – all this makes our work even more difficult. We have started to concentrate on projects that can only be done properly in the yard. Everything else is put to the back of the list(s).

Could vs. should

With our freedom comes responsibility. For we alone are responsible for the planning, the execution and the result. If we skip work, it won’t do itself. Could, want, may, should, must – that’s what it’s all about. We could work 12+ hours a day, finish faster, but would probably be mentally and physically drained. We could only work 5 hours, everything would take twice as long, but we might be more relaxed. No one tells us how many hours a day we should work. We have to decide for ourselves how much is okay. And accept that, too.

Maximise!

However, this is where the influence of our previous life comes into play and then sometimes leads to a guilty conscience – completely inappropriately so. I know that I could work more. But am I here to maximise? Isn’t it also the reason for our journey not to have to follow such thought patterns? To be able to take the time to do nothing? To take a break because we simply feel like it? To decide for yourself when and how to do something? Further, faster, higher is not necessary. But then there is the deadline (which we set ourselves after all). We want to be in the water in September. And the thoughts start spiralling all over again.

Why are we doing this to ourselves?

We no longer have bosses telling us what to do – we now have Milagros setting the pace. And we shouldn’t ignore her. We could, but we would only buy happiness from tomorrow. A small, neglected maintenance job can turn into a disaster. Something like the compound interest effect also exists with boats. Here is a small example from Milagros and deferred maintenance on her chain plates.

We voluntarily dismast the boat

The big day finally arrived and we had our mast un-stepped. To do this, the workers of Cabrales Boatyard brought a crane, which they attached around the middle of the mast. With the mast now stabilised, we were able to unscrew the stays (wire ropes that hold the mast in place) on deck. Luckily Marc from SV Liquid came to our aid (physically and mentally), because the 18-metre aluminium giant is very impressive. And a lot can quickly go wrong and become quite expensive.

Our banana

We were warned by Marga, the owner of our sister ship Dogfish, that our masts are pretty wobbly. But when we loosened the stays and shrouds and the mast bent to one side, even the experienced workers felt uncomfortable. After this moment of shock, we hurried to lower the mast onto prepared sawhorses. The crane was a bit too close, so everybody had to carefully manoeuvre the spreaders (the deflection points for the shrouds) between Milagros, the neighbouring boat and the crane itself. Unfortunately, we don’t have any pictures of the action, as all available hands were needed.

We shudder

Now we were able to remove and inspect the chain plates. The chain plates are there to attach the stays to the boat. So, there are enormous forces acting on them when the boat is sailing. The wind pushes the sails, which in turn puts pressure on the mast, which transfers the forces via the stays to the chain plates. The chain plates are attached to the boat with several large screws. And some of these screws made us shudder.

Maintenance would not be difficult

On Milagros, the chain plates go through the deck and are bolted on the inside. It’s not a big deal to disassemble the wall covering from time to time (note 4-8 screws per chain plate) and take a look at the condition of the chain plates. We realised, for example, that rust had formed in some places. Water must have penetrated through the deck. Ergo, some of the screws were rusted.

Now imagine that all 5 screws of a chain plate are rusted. And then, while sailing, there is an unforeseen gust of wind, perhaps with too much sail up, which puts lot of pressure on the rigging. These screws could break, the chain plate would be damaged, broken into pieces or torn out – the boat would be dismasted in no time. You could have just taken the time and looked at the screws and replaced them for about $1 each. Not a difficult choice there, is it?

Maintenance of the mast

So, we could start with the maintenance of the mast. Everything that was attached to it had to be removed: Spreaders, shrouds, stays, lights, etc. This is easier said than done. The mast is made of aluminium, and everything else is made of stainless steel. If the two metals are not insulated against each other or if the insulation has dissolved over the years (as it has in our case), the aluminium reacts with corrosion. And then the stuff gets really stuck. We always try it the nice way first: spray on rust remover and let it work overnight.

If that doesn’t help either, we use the Bunsen burner. The two metals behave differently when heated. Therefore, in combination with a well-aimed hammer blow, this can help to separate the two. And of course – if possible – we also work with brute force. Spoiler: We still couldn’t remove everything … In some places the paint was flaking off, especially in places that came into contact with other metals and thus corroded the aluminium underneath. We scraped off these spots with a spatula so that we could sand them down and repaint them.

Escaping the heat

When it’s too hot outside – say between 10am and 6pm – we take a siesta or work inside. For example, Dave has been cutting out one of our leaking stainless steel tanks piece by piece with the angle grinder. We depend on our two air conditioners. We can’t do without them. And we found that out for ourselves recently because of a power cut in the yard. At 2 pm. Almost immediately, beads of sweat formed on our foreheads. We first fled to the shops for groceries and hoped that the power would be back when we were. Unfortunately, no. So, we did an emergency installation of some fans. We were already prepared for an uncomfortable night when the power came back at 7pm. Phew!

Even more luck

Shortly after our return to the boatyard, a stomach bug spread through the yard. While we were mainly affected by lack of energy, others were pretty miserable. It turned out to be the norovirus that was raging in Puerto Peñasco. The local newspapers reported that it was carried over by the dust and faeces that were in it. *bwargh*

Curbed euphoria

As reported in previous posts, we were in Covid vaccine limbo. It was on a Sunday when Marc from SV Liquid discovered on Facebook that there was a Covid vaccination possibility for 18- to 35-year-olds in Puerto Peñasco the following week. Unfortunately, our euphoria was immediately curbed when it turned out that the Mexican personal identification number, something like the Swiss AHV number, was required for online registration. We don’t have that. Salvador, the yard manager, then called some people and sent us to the vaccination centre with the name of a doctor and the utility bill from Cabrales Boatyard to confirm residency.

The big surprise

SV Pablo‘s crew went ahead as guinea pigs and were successful! Vaccine euphoria! From no hope of vaccination to a real chance within 24 hours – lucky us! So, we joined the queue in front of the vaccination centre outside of town. When we couldn’t show a reservation, we were directed to a table where our personal details were taken. A short time and a few signatures later, we were in the queue for the single shot vaccine from Johnson & Johnson. We could hardly believe our luck. We gladly accepted the side effects such as headaches, aching limbs and chills. Because the vaccination opened up new possibilities for us. Most important of all: we will be able to travel back to Switzerland without quarantine for my brother’s wedding. Mexico, you are incredible!

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Celebrate with us!

Der Beitrag The Daily Grind is Real erschien zuerst auf Milagros.