With the True North tied to the work dock at Eliason Harbor in Sitka last week – still not out fishing – I looked up to the sound of my wife’s laughter as she came back aboard the boat. “I met this scraggledy guy coming down the ramp, with a smile on his face, coffee in hand, and a big bag of parts in the other hand. I asked how he was doing, and he said, ‘Just livin’ the Dream!’ “ Broke, always repairing something, but here we are, doing just that. If you feel some dark irony in the statement, you probably are not far off. What a week.
With all our friends except Kirk up north fishing, we have been feverishly working to get things ready. I promised not to tell, but Kirk is an awesomely thoughtful person, above and beyond the call of typical friendship. An enormously capable welder, rigger, mechanic, just to mention a few skills, he has delayed his fishing season 3 weeks now just to help us get finished and safely to the Cove. I’m humbled by such undeserved attention and assistance.
(Why replace old rigging plates…?)
It finally all began to come together about a week ago. The hayrack roof was completed, the a-frame on, the seat mounted, gurdies turning and tuned, pit cover fitted, and the fish hold spotless, ready for ice. Lovie had the inside all cozy and nice, and we were all set to go. The awesome bell that Orin and Sarai sent from Korea, fully engraved with the business name was hung on the new mount on the mast, ready for the first fog. We moved on the boat, and spent our first two nights sleeping the lovely, peaceful sleep that comes from the motion of the ocean.
Tuesday morning we stocked up with the last minute provisions, and while Lovie made a last laundry run, I fired the boat up and followed Kirk north for the 7 mile run to Halibut Point fuel dock to top off the tanks and give the boat the first test run before the long trip to Cross Sound. We plan to go up the outside coast, a new experience for us – it’s about a 16 hour run at 7 knots, and not a speck of civilization along the way. The chart looks like someone peppered it with dots that represent rocks, probably the most I’ve seen on any chart anywhere. With only the wide Pacific on the port side, and rocks on the starboard, you really have no room for error. All this in a new boat with unproven changes. Again, thank you, Kirk for sticking with us.
So, off I went, intently listening, watching, checking every system, every possible area of failure – what a dream the little boat is! The new engine is so quiet, I can hardly tell it’s running, just a gentle purr on deck. The shortened poles and stiffer rigging reduced the roll, even without the stabilizers in the water. I ran it progressively faster and faster, varying the speed as instructed to help seat the rings. About 30 minutes out, I heard a strange, high-pitched “Pzwiiing” noise, that went away and never came again. I noted it, then dismissed it as just an anomaly. About 2 minutes later, total panic. My oil pressure dropped to zero, usually a sure sign of major meltdown about to occur. I immediately killed the engine, radioed Kirk, and opened the hatch. No fluids in the bilge; oil on the dipstick; no overheating… After some conferring, we decided that we would just try to start it again and see if the pressure came up. I did, but it didn’t. Nothing seemed different, so we idled slowly without incident for the next 30 minutes to the fuel dock. 180 gallons (cough, cough) later, we headed back to Sitka.
Halfway home, I got brave and increased the speed slightly, then more yet. The temperature began to rise some, so I backed off, then killed it. Again, examining the engine as it cooled down, there was no noise, no sign of problem. When the temp cooled down, I started it again, and idled the rest of the way in. Suspecting a defective pressure sensing unit, I headed for the parts house. Finally finding a replacement, I made the change and optimistically started the engine. Still zero. More concerned, I pulled the sensor out of the block and turned the motor over with the starter. No oil. Really bad sign… I pulled the hose to the filter off and rolled the engine again… you guessed, no oil.
I got on the phone to the dealer / mechanic who sold the engine and described the symptoms. To make a long story short without all the excruciatingly painful details, Kirk and I, in two hours, ripped the floor out, removed the rear wall into the hold, moved the battery, the exhaust, the hydraulic pump, all the hoses, belts, lines, and wires attached to the motor; removed the transmission, undid the motor mounts, hooked a come-along to the ceiling and stood the engine up on the bell housing. There were babbit and bronze shavings in the bottom of the oil pan, not a very good sign. We pulled the oil pump off, and there it was. A split gear caused the oil pump shaft to break, starving my engine of oil to the main bearings. This usually ruins an engine in a few minutes of operation. How did mine survive with almost no damage whatsoever?? Providence, and the Teflon additive, similar to Slick 50, that Larry Stewart, the mechanic, had put in for the break in period. Wowser. No overheated crank, no seized bearings, nothing. Only a little, minor galling on one thrust bearing. Wow.
So, tonight, we sleep back in the safe haven of Doland’s with the motor upended, gutted like an October deer in Montana. Parts will be on the plane tomorrow; we will replace the main and rod bearings, oil pump, lift pump, freeze plugs (one had failed on me earlier, causing an antifreeze leak), and who knows what else.
Looks like we may get to fish before the end of July, if all goes well. We can’t spend any more money, there simply is none. Hope we get a fish check before the August bills start hitting the bank!
Livin the Dream, right here in Alaska.
Stay tuned.
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