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Rhythms

If there is a rhythm to extended sea voyages, that certainly is also true to wilderness winter voyages. It’s a nice rhythm. You wake up yawning and stretching and look out the window to make sure you are where you were last night. The tea kettle gets slid over to the hot side of the oil burning stove. You open the oven door for a little more heat in the galley and step outside to greet the new day and to perhaps raise the level of
the ocean just a tad. Life here is good. You wonder how the rest of the world is making out but are secretly glad that you are not part of it right now. The way you always dreamed it should be. A bit of sourdough toast and some coffee officially starts the day as you sit quietly and watch the morning light brighten the shorelines to see the inverted trees in the mirror smooth water around you. Sounds filter in. A lone gull shrieking at something; a raven babbling to no one in particular, and an eagle letting the world know who is king of the air. The smell of the forest spruce needles mixes with the smell of the shoreline seaweed and you fill your nostrils and lungs with the aroma.

The gasoline generator that quietly purred away the night before needs its tank refilled. It’s a small price to pay for a cabin filled with bright light and power for the woman of the house’s sewing machine while recharging the 12 volt battery bank. We haven’t left civilization as far away as we think. Without the warmth of the stove and the electricity that we’ve become accustomed to, life here would be grim at best. Oh there would be plenty to eat and a wood stove could probably be substituted for the one that eats oil from a well somewhere in Saudi Arabia but it wouldn’t be the plush life we are enjoying now. And again, the realization of what is going on in the world strikes home. Oil! It’s all over oil. Why don’t we just admit it and move on? When I’m ready to give up my luxuries, perhaps everyone else will be ready also. Not a likely scenario in the near future by the way things are going. If it’s true that we will all die from carbon monoxide poisoning if we continue to use all the oil that’s left in the earth until it’s gone, then the whole world is crazy. Being out here at least makes some sense even though I am adding to my own demise by continuing to use the oil that makes my life plush by most standards. Still, I’m glad I’m here and am grateful there are those who feel equally at home on the 12th floor of an apartment complex in a big city. Still, we are all going to have to deal with the oil problem. The question is when?

Baking bread on board the Skookumchuck.

Today, after the generator gets its one and a quarter gallons of gas which I will have to strain the water from through a chamois, and the new four-stroke environmentally sound outboard gets its couple of gallons, we are off to explore the north east bay. The shot gun and the mallard decoys go along as well as the rifle. Lunch, raingear, life jackets, survival bag (with two way radio), camera and binoculars find a place in the skiff as well. Civilization is never far away. Oh yes, the chart in its waterproof plastic bag goes also as does a compass. We’ve never been in these parts before and don’t really relish having to spend a night out because we couldn’t find our way home. Better leave the anchor light on. Just in case.

Generators

We think we are getting away from the “rat race” when we cut loose from the dock and head out into the wilds but, in reality, on a modern sailing vessel, every part of civilization comes along except the people. Of course, for many (us included) that in itself is a nice change. Having quiet bays and anchorages all to ourselves, sleeping in or getting out at dawn with some mallard decoys and listening to all the chatter in the marshes, or a quiet skiff ride in the evening just to count the deer are some of our favorite activities (seven bucks out of 16 possibilities is our record so far). Also, waking up to fresh fallen snow covering the decks and later having the sun come up spotlighting the highest of the mountain peaks is something beyond description. If only our photos could bring out the same feelings to family and friends that we feel at the time we take them, we would probably be their heroes. Be that as it may, we exuberantly enjoy and are forever grateful that we have had the opportunity to be alive at this time and place and do the things we do. That is until something malfunctions.

Now we don’t really need a generator as long as the engine runs. The boat was originally designed to operate quite efficiently on 12 volts. But, a diesel generator is a nice addition and one was included when the boat was built. Additionally, we added a nice quiet little Honda 2000 (gasoline model) for back up. Cindy’s sewing machine, brighter lights for our work spaces, the additional freezer we added that only runs on house current, the skill saw I planned to use to cut up the lumber I had on board for a special project and the fancy sodium spot lights I recently installed are all things requiring 110 current. Well, as they say, “all good plans of mice and men.” The main generator decided not to work only days before we were to leave. “No problem, we have the Honda. It has never failed in two years,” I told Cindy as we headed for the fuel dock to stock up on gasoline which we would need for the outboard and now the Honda.

The first couple of weeks went fine and then it started to rain. I mean really rain! Winter rain that is half snow with wind to go along with it took its toll. Finally the generator refused to start. It had spark, it had gas. My expertise was all used up. I heated the spark plug, tried a new plug and still it wouldn’t start. I read and reread the manual. “Clean the filter one a year,” it said, but the manual never told you where the filter was located. Only so much can be said for someone who learns English one day and then writes a manual the next. Nothing left to do but tear into things. Metric! My wrench supply did not include small enough metric sockets. I had to throw in the towel on that project. So, I turned the generator upside down and drained out all the fuel into a bucket and pulled the cord. The damn thing started and then quit again while upside down! I couldn’t believe it. The fuel that drained out into the bucket contained water. New fuel in the generator and it fired right off. I’d found the answer or so I thought.

Next day, it wouldn’t start again. Again, I drained the fuel from the carburetor, tank and every other line I could get to. I strained the gas supply through a chamois and put it into a clean receptacle where I could examine it before putting it into the generator. Still it refused to start. My arm was aching from pulling on the cord when I put the Honda inside the cabin to warm up and dry out. Two days later, same story. Spark, clean fuel and hardly a pop. And that’s where it stayed. When the freezer started to thaw, we would move everything to the 12 volt one and run the engine. A nuisance for sure but one that forced us to rethink our schedule. No longer would there be bright lights in the evening to do crafts. The sewing machine got put away. The martin skins I planned to put on stretcher boards would now, not even get trapped.

Skipper Ted Mattson is an Alaska sailor with broad experience in Bristol Bay and especially his home, the Alexander Archipelago, Alaska's panhandle.  Ted operates popular adventure sailing cruises with guests in the summer months aboard the Skookumchuck.

Winter Cruising l Starting Out l We Get Visitors l Winter Comes l A Windy Night l A Special Day  Rhythms l Back to Civilization