Tag Archive | sailboat cruising

A Heart Transplant

“Acceptance is the fifth stage of grief,” Kay assured me when we finally pulled the trigger to purchase an expensive new diesel engine to replace the 27-year-old Westerbeke 42B that refused to start anymore.

Old instrument panel, new instruments installed.

The engine to a cruising sailboat is like a heart: it requires fluids, fuel, muscle, and electricity to make everything work. You cannot live without one.

Graphic by Bob Bitchin / Latitudes & Attitudes.

How did we choose the Beta 38? We had a short list of criteria to consider: availability, price, similarity to our old engine, and the ability to install it in our engine compartment with only a minimum of modifications. Also, consider the facts that we had broken down far from home in Hilton Head, were paying high transient slip fees, and the winter weather was getting colder. We wanted to get out of South Carolina quickly and return to our warmer cruising grounds of South Florida.


Engine Choices


There are a handful of reasonable options for re-powering a Catalina 380 sailboat. Here are the choices:

  • Westerbeke 42B, our old model, but refurbished with new parts. Westerbeke no longer makes propulsion engines for the North American market. If we could have found a used refurbished engine of the same model as our old one, it would have been cheaper and everything would have fit perfectly. However, after searching the interwebs and the coconut telegraph, we could not find any.
  • Yanmar 3JH40 is a three-cylinder, 40 horsepower engine, whereas our old engine was a four-cylinder, 42 HP unit. It is close enough to our old engine, and Yanmar is probably the most popular inboard marine engine manufacturer in the world. Yanmar has been the stock engine provided on all Catalinas for many years. However, it was also the most expensive engine of all that I researched. I laid out the engine dimensions, and it would have fit in our engine compartment. However, the engine mount locations would have required modifying the engine bed or making odd-shaped engine mount flanges. Another consideration is the ECU. All Yanmar engines are equipped with an ECU, i.e. “computer,” and cannot run without one. Because of the ECU, they run smoother and quieter than other brands. However, one mechanic warned me that if we had a lightning strike or electrical engine problem, and we were in a remote area like the far islands of the Bahamas, it would be difficult to obtain a replacement ECU. They cost $5000 apiece anyway.
  • Beta 43 is a four-cylinder, 43 HP engine, very close to our 42 HP engine. I spoke with Beta reps on the phone, and they said a Catalina 380 owner had recently re-powered with a Beta 43. I asked for photos and contact information, but they could not provide them. I laid out the engine dimensions using computer-aided design (“CAD”) and found the Beta 43 is larger than our old engine, and would barely fit into the engine compartment. Likewise, the engine beds or mounting flanges would have to be significantly modified.
  • Beta 38 is a four-cylinder, 38 HP engine, nominally a little less than the old 42. However, both the Beta 38 and Westerbeke 42B have a displacement of 1.50 liters and a compression ratio of 24:1. They should have the same horsepower. I laid out the dimensions in CAD and found the engine would easily fit my space. The Beta engine mounts were so close to old engine mounts that it would be a drop-in replacement, requiring no modifications.
  • Although Beta is a British company, its US office is in North Carolina and they had Beta 38 engines in stock. Shipping to South Carolina would only take three days or so. Beta engines are simple and based on a Kubota engine block. There are no computers or electrical pumps, and replacement parts are easy to find worldwide. Dipsticks and filters are on the front of the engine, which makes makes maintenance much easier than other brands, including Westerbeke. Beta engines also have a built-in oil change pump in the front to make oil changes easy. The Beta 38 was also the least expensive of all the options.
  • Nanni 4.38 is just like the Beta 38: a four-cylinder, 38 HP, 1.5 liter displacement engine based on the Kubota engine block. The Nanni 4.38 has many of the same benefits of the Beta 38, like the filter and oil pump locations. Like Beta, Nanni is a British company. However Nanni is not as well-known as Beta in the US. Being satisfied with finding the Beta 38, I did not explore the Nanni 4.38 further.
  • Hybrid and All-Electric Engines. Beta Marine and other diesel engine manufacturers offer hybrid diesel electric engines. They would require adding special batteries, making many modifications, and be more expensive than a drop-in diesel replacement. Several all-electric inboard engines are available, including Oceanvolt. However, they are also more expensive overall and would require many modifications to the boat.
CAD layout of the Westerbeke 42B versus Beta 38 envelopes, front elevation.
CAD layouts of Westerbeke 42B versus Beta 38 envelopes, port side elevation.


Beta 38 Options

After considering the options, we ordered the Beta 38. We consulted with the Beta Marine reps and added the following options to our order:

  • TMC 60 Technodrive transmission. This transmission has a 7 degree down angle, matching that of the Hurth HBW 15A transmission that came with the Westerbeke 42B Four. The transmission swap from Beta’s non-angled transmission was free of charge.
  • R&D Flexible Coupling with flexible polyester elastomer disc. Free of charge. The flexible coupling is a much better coupling than the Globe Drivesaver® coupling that came with the Catalina 380.
  • ‘C’ Deluxe control panel, but without the fascia. This deluxe package comes with a tachometer containing a built-in digital hour meter, temperature gauge, oil pressure gauge, and voltage gauge, a key-control glow plug activation and engine starting switch, push button stop, warning buzzer, and idiot lights for the following: alternator voltage (including a light for a secondary alternator if you have it), engine temperature, oil pressure, and system energization. The old Westerbeke panel instruments did not have an oil pressure gauge and it had fewer idiot lights. One could order a simpler instrument package from Beta that would be less expensive and less complicated to install. NOTE: The Beta control panel fascias are rectangular, but the existing control panels on the Catalina 380 are trapezoidal. I adapted the old Catalina / Westerbeke control panel myself to fit the new Beta instruments to save money. More on that later.
  • Three-meter wiring harness extension. Added to the standard three-meter harness, you get six meters total. It is just long enough to link the engine to the instruments by a couple of inches with the extension. This is a necessary upgrade for a Catalina 380 installation.
  • High-rise exhaust elbow. This helps prevent water from entering the engine through the exhaust causing hydrolock. The water inlet on the elbow must be 30 cm above the waterline, and the high-rise elbow give you extra height compared to the standard exhaust elbow. Beta convinced me to buy the high-rise elbow, but it created some interference with the rear engine cover after installation.
  • Water heater fittings with shut-off valves. Beta calls it a “calorifier.” It must be a British thing.
  • 70 amp alternator, standard, no extra charge. Beta can upgrade the alternator to 120 amps for an extra charge.

The total price of the new Beta 38, including shipping to Hilton Head Island, was $17,200. Beta is a British company, and I do not know how much of the price was due to tariffs, if any.

Removing the old engine through the companionway.


Removing the Old Engine

One mechanic and a helper were able to remove the old engine and install the new one. The whole process of removal and tearing down the engine sufficiently to confirm its demise took about 16 hours of labor. Here is a quick summary of the removal process:

  • Close the diesel fuel tank valve on top of the fuel tank. Close the engine water inlet through-hull valve. Turn the battery switch to OFF.
  • Detach the diesel inlet and return hoses from the engine.
  • Detach the exhaust hose, water inlet hose, and coolant hoses.
  • Drain the engine of coolant. Use either the drain valve or a shop vac for the engine coolant and water heater loop. Drain the engine oil and transmission oil.
  • Detach heavy items from the engine to make it easier to lift: transmission, alternator, starter, heat exchanger. Cover the ends of the electrical cables to the alternator and starter with electrical tape to prevent a possible short circuit.
  • Detach the wiring harness, tape the loose wire ends together, and tie a messenger line to the end to facilitate running the new wiring harness under the aft cabin.
  • Detach the electrical cables from the engine and cover the ends with electrical tape. NOTE: your shore power and battery charger will no longer work.
  • Loosen engine mounts.
  • Rig a come-along / chain fall under a strap placed over the boom above the engine compartment. For extra strength, make a loop at the end of the main halyard and position the loop just aft of the strap. Then tension the main halyard to take the weight of the engine instead of the topping lift, since the main halyard is thicker than the topping lift.
  • Rig a chain around the engine and then lift it through the companionway. Set the engine temporarily on the companionway lip so you can move the strap aft by a foot or so. That way, you can clear the coach roof and swing the engine on the boom over to the dock.
Empty engine compartment.


Fill Out the Beta Engine Bed Worksheet


To make sure the new engine fits, Beta requests that the buyer take careful measurements in the now-empty engine compartment to make sure the new engine will fit. I used a regular tape measure.

Engine bed worksheet.


Install the New Engine Mechanical Side

  • Installation of the mechanical side is the reverse of removal. Remove the heavy items at the dock, like the transmission, to make the new engine lighter and easier to fit onto the engine mounts. Install the new coupler. Adjust the engine mounts to align the engine, and tighten the engine mount bolts. Since some of the engine mount bolts to the engine bed were frozen, and the existing engine mounts were in good shape, my mechanic simply reused the Westerbeke engine mounts.
  • Install water hoses and adapters to fit the new engine. There are a few different sizes and lengths from the Westerbeke to the Beta, which will become apparent. Hoses and adapters are available at most chandleries.
  • Replace the existing shift cable with an extra-long cable. The shifter on the Westerbeke transmission is on starboard, but it is on the port side on the Beta, so it needs to reach farther. Alternatively, one could drill holes in the aft engine bed port side to run the shifter cable more directly along the port side.
  • Attach fuel feed and return lines; attach electrical cables.
  • Add engine oil, engine coolant, and transmission fluid.
  • The total labor for installation was about 16 hours.
  • Trouble point: After the new engine was installed, we could not quite close the front engine compartment / companionway stairs. Somehow, the new engine was either taller or longer than the old one. Perhaps the engine sizes do not meet their specifications, or I miscalculated while making my CAD drawings. The problem could also be that the new engine is taller because we re-used the Westerbeke engine mounts, which are taller than the Beta engine mounts. We solved the problem by raising the height of the front engine cover / stairs by about three inches. It is hardly noticeable, and it works.
Hoisting the new engine onto the boat under the boom. Note the main halyard looped near the strap to take the load.
New engine coming in the companionway.
New Beta 38 installed.
“Heart” transplant almost complete.


Install New Engine Instruments to Wiring Harness


Assembling the Engine Instrument Panel

The Catalina 380 has a trapezoidal, not rectangular, engine instrument panel. Catalina Direct offers trapezoidal panels for Universal and Yanmar engines for about $650, but not Beta. I contacted Catalina Direct who offered to have a custom panel made for me, but I declined. Instead of having the mechanic install the new instruments, I took on the job myself to save money and reused the existing engine instrument panel.

Old panel with instruments for the Westerbeke 42B Four.

I reused the holes for the tachometer, voltmeter, fuel gauge, temperature gauge, temperature light, oil pressure light, buzzer, and push-to-start button. The new tach, voltage gauge, and temperature gauge went into the same holes as the old instrument arrangement. I put the new oil pressure gauge in the old fuel gauge hole, installed the new ignition switch into the old buzzer hole, and installed the new push-to-shut-off button into the old push-to-start button hole. The new instrument kit also comes with a light for a secondary alternator failure. Since I did not have a secondary alternator, I just hid the light behind the panel.

Engine instrument panel layout.

Using a two-inch hole saw, I made a new, central hole for the fuel gauge. Using a half inch drill, I drilled a hole for the new red “alternator failure” light and green “system on” light. Note that the fuel gauge in the new, central position on the panel can impinge on the bump formed by the pedestal inside the engine instrument bay. Therefore, one should cut the central threaded ground post in the middle of the fuel gauge to shorten it and make it fit.

Old panel modified with holes for the new instruments and lights.
Phil assembling the new instruments to the old panel.
Back of panel with new Beta instruments.
New Beta instruments and lights installed.


Running the Wiring Harness from Engine to Panel

The wiring harness for the old and new engines runs from the engine to the instrument panel thusly: engine compartment → under the aft bed → into the starboard aft locker → then up into the steering gear space behind the head banger insert → up a 1-inch diameter, s-shaped pipe → then into engine instrument panel compartment on the pedestal.

The 11-way wiring harness plug at the end of the wiring harness cannot fit through the pipe, and the plug must be removed before threading the wiring harness through the pipe. The plug is semi-rectangular shaped, and at least 1.5 inches across. Fortunately, one need to only depress a tab on the back of each socket to release each wire. Take photos that show the position of each of the 11 wires, say a little prayer that you can get them back together, and then use a very small flat-head screwdriver to depress each of the tabs and remove all of the wires. The latest Beta installation manual at page 114 describes which wire goes into which terminal in the 11-way plug.

11-way plug.

Note that the wiring diagram shows an additional plug with two more wires. The additional plug is for that secondary alternator. If you do not have a secondary alternator, cut off the plug and put it your spare parts bin.

Technical drawing of the 11-way plug.

Next, tape the ends of the wiring harness together and attach it to the messenger line that you left when removing the old Westerbeke wiring harness. If you haven’t removed the headbanger insert already, now is the time. Thread the wiring harness under the aft bed, into the starboard aft locker, into the headbanger insert space, and then up the 1-inch diameter S-shaped pipe. The wiring harness cover outside diameter and pipe inside diameter are both about ¾ inch. It is tough to get it through. Cable lube can help.

After getting the wiring harness run into the engine instrument panel space, re-attach each of the 11 wires into the 11-way plug. Double check each wire with the schematic drawing in the installation manual. Attach the wiring harness plug to the plug from the instrument cluster, and close up the panel.


First Start-up and Sea Trial

Turn on the battery switch. Prime the mechanical fuel pump with a lever on the side of the fuel pump housing. Turn the ignition to ON, and make sure the lights, gauges, and alarms are working properly.

Crank the engine! The new Beta 38 started up immediately and ran very smoothly. Turn off the engine after running for a minute to check and top off fluids according to the installation manual.

The warranty requires a sea trial, and the engine must get up to 3400 to 3600 RPM, according to Beta. We were only able to get up to 3200 RPM. After reviewing the engine set up with the mechanic and Beta, we figured that our Max-Prop propeller may be slightly over-pitched. I do not know what the maximum RPM of the Westerbeke was – did not have a need to find out. At the time of writing this article, we are having our boatyard back down the pitch by one setting while the boat is on the hard. The Max-Prop manual says that reducing the pitch by two degrees can increase the RPM by 13% – 15%, which will put us at 3600 RPM.

At the time of writing this article, we have put 100 hours on the engine. We have changed the transmission oil, engine oil, and engine oil filter a couple of times. We have been very happy with the performance, and do not notice any decrease in power from going from a nominally 42 HP engine to a 38.

We broke down at Hilton Head Island at the Safe Harbor Skull Creek Marina in mid-November, 2025. We did not get the new engine installed and commissioned until early February, 2026. Then, we decided to wait a week or two until the daytime temperatures got up to 40 degrees F so that we would not freeze to death while underway. That would have been a bad look.

It took about three months overall. But, the boat finally has a new shiny red heart that kept us warm and powered-up all the way back to south Florida.

Beset by Turtles

The turtle lives ‘twixt plated decks
Which practically conceal its sex.
I think it clever of the turtle
In such a fix to be so fertile.

– Ogden Nash, “The Turtle”

Our latest outing into the waters around Boot Key took us farther south and west than we had ever been on Catmandu. We left the dock without a clear destination in mind, thinking we would sail west and visit one of two or three anchorages that had been recommended by friends. The original plan was to anchor between the old and new bridges at Bahia Honda, but currents are known to be strong there and we didn’t want to find ourselves pinned against a bridge in the middle of the night if our anchor dragged.

Other suggestions were farther away, and since the wind was so light (4 or 5 kts), we would have to motor all the way back, even if we managed to sail there slowly. So, we backed out of the slip on a fair Friday morning with the idea of sailing around just for fun and anchoring right outside our home harbor. It would give me some practice sailing and anchoring, which we will need for our future expeditions. (Phil doesn’t need practice, but as he puts it, “we are a team.” Winning teams practice.)

Phil sailing SV Catmandu near Marathon, FL
Phil at the wheel.

Phil drove out of the channel while I stowed the fenders. As soon as we cleared the markers, Phil went forward to hoist the mainsail. The wind was light and variable, mostly from the east and southeast. I drove in a crooked line, trying to keep the bow into the wind for Phil. After that, we let Otto drive (he seemed to work better than I did). I helped pull out the jib, noting that I forgot to put a stopper knot in the jib sheet (again). Soon we were sailing slowly toward the west, and we cut the engine.

What a difference it makes when the engine goes off. Every sailor loves that moment, when the diesel engine quiets and the wind takes over. We sailed a parallel course to the 7-Mile Bridge and passed the western end. We approached Bahia Honda, headed a little to the south, and kept going. The ocean was nearly flat, and it was a peaceful few hours.

We heard splashes all around us, and saw rings of white foam on the surface of the water. Phil figured out that they were made by turtles, and called them “turtle pops.” Sometimes we caught a glimpse of a turtle’s head, if it stayed up long enough, and sometimes a flipper would fly out. Most of the time they were too fast to see, and all we got was the ring of white foam and a splash. But they were all around us or possibly swimming with us. “We are beset by turtles,” Phil announced.

From the rare parts I could see, we think they were Hawksbill turtles, with a possible Loggerhead or two. The Hawksbill turtles have a distinctive spot pattern on their front flippers, and that is what I used to identify them. Turtles do not stay on the surface for long, and they are pretty quick to dive if they spot a human or a boat. Here is a Hawksbill turtle. They are about three feet long from head to tail.

Hawksbill Turtle

We sailed for a few hours and then turned toward home. The wind was so light, it would have taken us several hours to get to the anchorage, so we had to motor sail. There were only three other boats there, so we had no problem picking out a spot. I drove while Phil dropped the anchor. He had to adjust the clutch on the anchor windlass, so I’m glad he didn’t send me forward to drop the anchor. I do have to practice that at some point.

Maggie, getting some fresh air.

We knew not to get too close to shore. In light winds, the bugs (no-see-ums) can be brutal. We had some adult beverages, listened to music and watched our old cat Maggie climb the companionway stairs and join us in the cockpit. She rarely comes outside, so it was good to see her making the effort. She took a walk around the deck and settled down beside us. In the distance, we could see a sailboat levitating over the water. Or, atmospheric conditions make it look like that.

The sailboat in the distance appears to be floating above the water, not in it.

Memorial for Mom

A few months after my mother died, the people at Seasons Hospice who cared for her during her last days gave my sisters and me a memorial lantern. We hadn’t planned a time or place to deploy it, and my sisters expected that I would light it and release it somewhere over the ocean. Phil thought it would be a good time and place to finally send it off. After grilling Impossible® burgers for dinner, we waited in the cockpit for the sun to go down.

My mother and father had a running argument about where to vacation. My dad wanted to go to the woods, and he usually won. But Mom loved the beach. She grew up in Westerly, Rhode Island and her grandfather had a beach house on Misquamicut Beach. She spent her summers there until she was 10, when the Hurricane of ’38 blew the beach house away. It also killed nearly 300 people in Rhode Island that day, including some of my mother’s schoolmates.

There was little left of the house on the beach, just a tiny bit of the cement sea wall. The top floor ended up two miles inland, the bedspreads still dry and folded on the beds. The hurricane did not dampen her desire to spend time at the beach. (It was different for her grandfather. Devastated, he sold the property without ever going back.) When my sisters and I would visit the beach with my mom, we would find that bit of sea wall and lay our towels out beside it.

This made me feel that flying that magical lantern over the ocean would be a fitting way to honor my mother. My sisters live far away, so they would not be able to participate. Phil and I got out the paper lantern kit, and making sure it was environmentally safe and ocean-friendly, we looked for the instructions to light it. Hilarity ensued. Apparently, AI has not advanced sufficiently to translate Chinese into understandable English. Wishing Light Operating Instructions (I am not making this up.):

  1. After the distribution of fuel to packaging equipment Kong Cross wire in the side of the field again deduction presses the fuel pressure lock firmly.
  2. A person wishing light take up a Top; another person fuel ignited the four angle.

After cracking up at this bit of nonsense, we figured out how to attach the fuel tile to the wire at the bottom of the lantern, and just after sunset at the anchorage, we tried several times to light it. It was old; it had been on the boat for almost two years, and it just would not light easily. It finally ignited, and we held it up off the deck, fire extinguisher at the ready.

When the “four angle” (the fuel tile was a square) was fully engulfed, the top of the lantern expanded to its full height and started to float away. I’m sorry I don’t have pictures, but it took both of us to hold the lantern and light it safely. I said, “I miss you, Mom,” and Phil let it go into the fading twilight.

We watched it float off the boat for about ten feet and then sink into the sea. We both started laughing, and I knew if my mom were looking on, she would be laughing too. The next day, as we were making our way back to the west to calibrate Otto again, I thought I saw the remnants of our memorial Wishing Light, disintegrating into the ocean as it was meant to do.

***

How does one tie up a blog with so many threads? I try to make each piece a complete tale, wrapping up all the facets in a well-constructed bundle with some kind of conclusion to make it all work, but this one is about a herd of turtles, my mom, and an overnight outing with Phil on our sailboat. A writing friend of mine asked me once if I consciously looked for a common thread to tie the blog together, and I said, “yes, I keep writing until I find it.” But the only thing I can think of to tie this one together is the ocean.

We live on it, my mother loved visiting it, and turtles pop out of it.

“I have been feeling very clearheaded lately and what I want to write about today is the sea. … It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.”

― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

Running in Circles

When in danger or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.

― Herman Wouk

If you were driving east into Marathon last week on the Seven Mile Bridge and looked out on the ocean side, you would have seen a sailboat with no sails up, spinning in place. That was us, going around in circles on a flat, calm sea. I could have called this article “Donuts in the Deep,” “Circling the Drain,” or simply “Calibrating the Compass,” but I was trying to imagine what people would think as they drove by and spotted a sailboat slowly rotating.

Our auto-pilot had stopped working on our way to Marathon last August, and although Phil had replaced the rudder reference (what’s that? see photos), the direction of travel was still about 50 degrees off, so we knew the compass had to be calibrated. For months, it was on the “to-fix” list, but since the engine was blowing white smoke and losing power, it wasn’t our first priority. It took many months (on island time) but finally, the old Westerbeke was patched up, fitted with all new valves and a new head gasket, and ran like a top. It was time for a shake-down cruise.

What’s a rudder reference?

This is a rudder reference – a faulty one.

We picked a calm day that promised light winds. After going through the cabins and salon and putting away everything that could go flying, we were ready to leave the dock. You wouldn’t believe the loose items we had accumulated in seven months. We had grocery bags full of loose breakables secured in the v-berth. I tied up the drawers in my mom’s jewelry box – that was a disaster the last time we sailed in rougher waters; the drawers came out and scattered earrings and necklaces all over the captain’s cabin. I locked cupboard doors, secured the cat food and water dish, and took everything off the galley counters. As it turned out, we probably didn’t have to do all that. I probably didn’t need my seasickness relief band, either.

No neighbors were around that Wednesday morning, so Phil and I unhooked our electric cord and took down the dock lines. Without a breath of wind, Phil backed out of the slip easily and we were on our way. I lifted the fenders and Phil hooked up the lifelines. It was partly cloudy, not a beautiful day, but not hot. The purring of the engine was music to our ears.

We have an 18 ½ year old cat who doesn’t like to travel much. No purring was heard from the cat quarters. Maggie hunkered down underneath the salon table, threw up, and went into the head to lie on the floor. She got extra treats when we got home.

We exited through the channel and headed west toward deeper water. The ocean was flat calm and the engine sounded healthy and happy for the first time in a year. Phil followed the instructions for calibrating the flexgate compass, pressing a series of keys on the autopilot controller. Then, when the screen said, “Turn boat,” he slowly rotated Catmandu while I thought about how comical it must look from the bridge.

The directions for calibration of the fluxgate compass.

We made two or three revolutions before the message told us how many degrees of compass deviation we had so we could adjust it to our actual course heading. Done! Our autopilot is fixed. For those who don’t sail, this device allows us to set a course, set the sails or run the engine, and relax while “Otto” steers. (Yes, it reminds me of the inflatable pilot in the Airplane movies.)

Our Raymarine Smart Pilot – so smart!

We were not ready to head back to port, so we pointed into the wind, raised the head sail and turned off the engine. It wasn’t worth raising the mainsail; there was almost no wind. We bobbed around in the water, loving the peace that descends when the engine turns off. The breeze was no more than a light caress on the jib, and we managed to move about a half mile at .5 knots. But we were off the dock. We were sailing.

Dolphins appeared off the port stern, and we heard one just behind us slapping his tail. There were several more off the port bow, swimming so close we could see them under the water. They slap their tails to stun fish and to tell their pod members where the fish are. They swam around us for a while, and after they disappeared, we spotted a large sea turtle with a patch of seaweed on his shell. The turtle wasn’t close enough to identify the species. He dove back under the water, and we turned for home.

Just one of the dolphins who visited during our slow sail.

Where are we from, and where are we going?

Our slow cruise began nearly ten years ago in Annapolis. Now it can continue. We have a working engine, an autopilot, a new water maker, and updated charts. We have the means to visit Key West, the Dry Tortugas, the west coast of Florida, the Bahamas and beyond. But hurricane season approaches, and we will have to be somewhere safe until November. We have been here in Marathon for almost a year, loving the climate-controlled pool, the easy access to laundry and supplies, and the incomparable sunsets. We travel by dinghy to restaurants and tiki bars – and back. Maybe we are a bit spoiled, for cruisers.

The sunsets are spectacular.

Living the island life just south of mainland Florida, we find ourselves in the company of other boat-dwellers, sailors, and wanderers. Phil makes friends easily, and we socialize at the pool and the marina parties, only to discover weeks later that our new friends have moved on. Most people are just passing through, but we have been here so long, we got a 10% discount on dinner the other night for being “locals.”

It is a welcoming community, and when they ask us where we are from, we look at each other for an answer.

“All over,” I say. Born in California, raised in a nomadic military family in communities on both U.S. coasts, eventually landing for a time in Colorado, Washington State, and New Hampshire, I never know what to say.

“Where’s home, though?” they might ask.

“Wherever the boat is,” says Phil.

We don’t know exactly where we are going next, and we don’t know when. But we do know we can find our way there with a working autopilot, a working engine, and a correctly calibrated compass. Until we have a float plan, a destination or at least a route on the chart plotter, I guess we will be running in circles. At least we are finally running.

Servicing the Electric Anchor Windlass … Sort of!

This is how the electric anchor windlass is supposed to work

Phil here, with a tech update on servicing and maintaining our Catalina 380, 38-foot sailboat. Boats of our size and larger have anchors that weigh on the order of 35 pounds and above, and have anchor rodes (i.e. lines) that are all chain. They are heavy. Thanks to gravity, anchors and chains are usually easy to deploy. However, it is difficult to retrieve them when it is time to pick up the anchor and sail away. That is where the electric windlass comes in.

Catmandu came with a very nice Maxwell Freedom 800 electric windlass, that has worked flawlessly for the past three years. However, last July when Kay and I were testing the boat’s systems at the dock in preparation for sailing south, the anchor windlass would. not. deploy.

Freedom 800 electric anchor windlass

We contacted our dear friend Mike Dillon, an engineer for Maxwell in Fort Lauderdale, for help. A new windlass costs about $2000, and I hoped we could repair ours instead of replacing it.

When did you last service the windlass?” Mike asked when he came aboard with his bag of tools.

You have to service anchor windlasses?” I replied. I had no idea. I thought they were magical devices that just worked for years when you pushed the buttons. They have shiny, stainless steel turny things on top and magical whirring things that are invisible below the deck.

It turns out you have to service anchor windlasses periodically. #Sad. It appeared that the windlass had not been serviced in over 20 years. Mike took apart the top part of the windlass and found that the two clutch halves had seized together, and that had prevented the anchor chain from deploying. We pried them apart with hand tools and brute force, cleaned out some embedded dirt, and greased the clutch. Then the anchor and chain deployed normally once again. Note to self: the user manual says the clutch has to be greased every year or bad things can happen.

Mike opened an access panel below deck and inspected the gearbox and electric motor. The gear box was empty when it should have been at least half full of 90 weight gear oil. All the oil had leaked out. Left empty, the gears would have eventually ground each other to dust and the windlass would be ruined. Mike was able to throw some regular oil into the gearbox so that we could get underway, and it was good enough for our cruise from Hollywood to Marathon.

Change the scene to the present day. Catmandu has been at a slip in Marathon for seven months, and properly servicing the anchor windlass has finally come to the top of the to-do list. Servicing involves greasing the clutch, removing the gear box, replacing all the oil seals, and replacing the gear oil. I was able to grease the clutch again. I even installed a “pressure arm” that presses the anchor chain against the chain wheel of the windlass since it was missing on my unit. However, after accessing the rest of the windlass below deck, the gear box would not come off. It had seized to the shaft and I could not get it off, even after applying penetrating oil daily, banging on it with a hammer, and applying heat from a heat gun.

Worm wheel and gearbox cover would not come off the shaft, so I left them in place

The next best thing was to merely remove the bottom part of the gear box and the electric motor from the assembly while leaving the worm wheel and gear box cover on the shaft, as seen in the photo above. As you can see below, out of oil again.

Bottom of gear box with no oil

Then I turned the gearbox to the side, and identified an oil leak past one of the oil seals. Oil seals are partly rubber and partly metal, and must seal the gearbox and shaft precisely in order to keep the oil in.

Gearbox showing the oil leak. No bueno.

I bought a Maxwell rebuild kit for this windlass, which includes replacement oil seals, clips, o-rings, and a sight glass for the gear oil. I was able to get all the old seals out and replace them, except for the seal in the gearbox cover. Of course, there is a YouTube video for that.

Gearbox with overhaul kit, ready to install

I installed the new hardware and bolted the gearbox assembly back onto the windlass with fresh 90 weight gear oil. After applying anti-seize compound to the bolts, I secured the gearbox to the shaft and re-installed the electric motor.

Plenty of gear oil seen in the sight glass. Bueno.

To prove it works, I ran the anchor up and down at the dock a few times, and called it a success. Now, the anchor windlass has been completely serviced — except for greasing the worm wheel on the shaft and replacing the oil seal on the gearbox housing. Good enough, as long as they never have to come off.

Night Passage to Marathon

“The size of your dreams must always exceed your current capacity to achieve them. If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough.”

― Ellen Johnson Sirleaf

Sitting in No Name Harbor, we contemplated our options. The good news: we were safely at anchor, we didn’t have a schedule to keep, and we had plenty of food. The neighbors in the anchorage were polite, for the most part, and kept their music soft. Some nights, there were only two boats anchored, but on Saturday night, there were many. We kept cool by swimming and running the air conditioning by generator for an hour or two before bed. The bad news: we had an engine that spewed white smoke and wouldn’t power up past 2,000rpm.

Phil reading the repair manual, Marine Diesel Engines, by Nigel Calder.

It was scary to think of continuing our trip without solving the problem. We could be anchored off Rodriguez Key with no engine, no wind, and no way to get towed to our destination without spending thousands of dollars. We were out of options until a friend called with a suggestion, and an offer.

“I can join you onboard and help limp the boat to Marathon in one overnight passage,” Reinhard said. “We can sail if there’s wind, and just motor slowly if not.”

Our surroundings in No Name Harbor. Our new Honda generator is on the seat to the right.

Phil and I had never sailed at night, and it was not something we planned to do in the near future. To be honest, we had precious few working flashlights, no spotlight, and the compass light did not work. We also had some doubts about the auto pilot. Our running lights worked fine, and if we were able to maintain a speed of four knots, the 90-nautical-mile passage would take just short of 24 hours. At the end of that journey, we would be in a place where sailboats were more common than power boats, and diesel mechanics might be available. There is also a travel-lift and a boatyard right at the marina. Plus, we would be home. We said yes, and planned to leave on an outgoing tide Monday at noon.

I discovered a free transportation service called Freebee in a blog posted about No Name Harbor, and downloaded the app. We requested a ride to the Wynn Dixie store a mile or two away and went to the wall in our dinghy with our grocery bags. It was amazing! The electric vehicle came quickly, the driver was helpful in every way, and we were able to replenish our drinks and some small food items. Normally against our principles because of the plastic waste, we even bought a case of bottled water since our tanks were a little low. (There is no public drinking water at No Name Harbor.) The return driver even helped us carry the water to our dinghy.

Monday came, our guest arrived with his wife Nina, and after brief goodbyes, we cast our lines off at 11:40 am heading out of the harbor. It was hot, still, and flat calm – a mixed blessing.

We headed out, with the seawall to port and perfectly flat seas.
The water seemed to change color as we left the Florida Cape Lighthouse in our wake.

We turned to the southwest and saw a disturbing sight: the wreck of a green navigational beacon. We hoped the others marking our way through shallow passages were in better shape, especially those we had to pass in the dark. We really wanted to sail, to help the engine a little and practice our skills with an expert on board. But the wind was directly on our nose, so no chance of forward movement with that angle. We motored, watching whisps of white smoke flow off the stern.

A wrecked green marker, probably hit by a boat (like ours?) on a dark night.

Reinhard discovered the auto pilot was broken but not dead. It could be repaired, once we were able to take things apart and put them back together. So, we had to hand-steer for 90 nautical miles, taking turns at the wheel. Phil had expected to stay up all night, but I thought we could nap in turns. I had underestimated my ability to stay awake, and I did the most napping. During the day, we all took turns steering, but once darkness fell, I took the helm just once. It was too dark and dangerous to rely on my poor night vision and limited skill level.

Phil at the helm.

As we gradually changed our course from southwest to west, the wind also changed. It was definitely taunting us, keeping our sails furled and useless. We could sail by heading off course and then tacking back, but it’s a slow way to go. The plus side was the complete lack of waves. It was quite flat. In fact, the battery died in my motion-sickness band, and I didn’t even notice.

Phil at the wheel and Reinhard studying the course. We could not have done this without his help.

By late afternoon, we had passed some familiar landmarks. We spotted the Boca Chita light – where we had anchored the night Fidel Castro died (another story, another boat). Elliott Key’s long shoreline gave way to Key Largo, where Phil saw the Fowey Rocks Light – a favorite snorkeling spot opposite John Pennekamp State Park. We passed the first anchorage we had planned to use on the way down, Rodriguez Key, and I whispered a “see you later, sometime” as we passed it by.

We started to feel a little whisper of wind, and got our hopes up, but the direction kept changing. It turned out we were alongside a small weather system, and rain appeared in a gray curtain to our starboard side. We watched it get closer, but it never really reached us except for a few fat drops that made plopping sounds on the bimini above us.

A thunderstorm appeared over land, but never reached us. It teased us with stronger, variable winds.

The sun started dropping into the clouds above the storm, and we kept trading places at the wheel. There were snacks of bagels and cream cheese along with a large jar of peanuts, but no dinner. The voyage started to feel long, and the hours crawled by as I noted our progress on the paper chart. If you ever think of this planet as a small world, consider how long it takes to go just 90 nautical miles by sailboat.

We passed this odd structure as the sun started to drop behind the thunder clouds.

The chart plotter kept track of our expected arrival time at the marina, and it looked for a time like we might arrive before first light. Luckily, currents kept us back a little and it looked like we would arrive just past daybreak. The sky became inky black with a miraculous display of stars. It was a little cooler, and Phil and Reinhard took turns at the wheel while I stared at the sky. Objects in the total darkness were hard to make out, and there were navigational beacons with no lights marking shallow spots. This is terrifying, and we passed close enough to one marker to make out its hulking shape in the shadows off to our port side.

The moonrise gave us a little more light to steer by, and a golden ripple leading straight to our boat.

Boats with improper lighting gave us a few mysteries to solve. Off in the distance we saw a white anchor light and two fainter red and green running lights. When we got closer, we realized it was a catamaran anchored two miles offshore with a dinghy attached to stern davits. The lights were glowing on the dinghy, creating a strange configuration in the dark. Another mystery was a steaming light above a set of brighter spotlights and no running lights. It looked like a huge ship on the horizon but turned out to be a small-powerboat captain trying to repair his engine under his bright deck lights. He was anchored, it was the middle of the night, and he had our sympathy.

First light saw us alongside Key Marathon, and we made a slow turn toward land. I could see the headlights of cars on the Seven Mile Bridge, and the one green marker with a 4-second light. Four seconds seemed too long, and we knew if we got out of the narrow channel, the water was only three or four feet deep.

Eighteen and a half hours into our trip, we made the turn into Boot Key Harbor as the sun came up, and Phil steered us slowly along the row of boats to our spot on the west dock. Reinhard stepped off the boat onto our pier, and tied up Catmandu in her new home, slip 98, Safe Harbor Marathon.

Safe Harbor – There are few nicer phrases after a long passage in the dark.

  1. Hi Scott, thanks for asking! I do not have any further posts or video about the installation. We were just…

  2. Hi Phil. I just ran across your blog while researching a replacement for my westerbeke 42B on my 1999 380.…

  3. I wanted to say thank you so much for your thoughts on the Marathon tikis—so glad I found your blog!…

  4. Stayed there in 2022. Quiet, peaceful but no service no water. It does offer 360° protection and good holding. Best…