Spontaneous Combustion

We finally hoisted sails and Summertime moved through the water. We decided to have a gentle first day out and stay fairly local as advised by the rigger/Professor. Do some sea trials to expose any problems was his sage adviceI.

It is funny that no matter how hard you try to get rigging a boat right, it is not until you actually use things that you work out what you got wrong.

Sheets trapped under jack stays, Halyards attached outside sheets, halyards not running right and impeding each other, not enough cleats on the mast.

This season I have changed the main sail reefing system. The existing system was what is known as single line reefing, where one line runs from the boom, up to the first reefing point at the aft end of the sail, back down to the end of the boom, inside the boom to the front, up to the forward reefing point on the sail and then down to a block at the base of the mast and back to the cockpit.

It is a good system if everything runs well but with age comes friction and it was not working well enough for safety.

So I have changed the system to separate lines for the front and back which works much better and is much more controllable. However that means doubling the number of lines coming back to the cockpit which has its own issues, and has required a lot of re-organising of all the lines. However this is clearly a better way of doing things in practical terms. We now have the right lines by the right winches and this really is the optimum way to reef while under way. It was not until I was finished doing this that I realised that I had all the red lines to starboard and the green ones to port – this is not nautically sustainable!

Oh no. American configuration!

We slowly got all the rigging glitches sorted out and had a gentle sail down the main channel out of the Marmaris gulf. The wind picked up a bit and we reefed both the Main and Genoa and were tramping along at a good rate of knots. There were still a few issues that needed heroic foredeck activity.

 What is not to like.

Hero of the foredeck.

We were heading for Ciftlik, a familiar port some 10 miles from Marmaris just round the first main headland. As we approached the wind suddenly picked up and was blowing 35+ Knots out of Ciftlik bay. Rather than test ourselves any further on our first sojourn we put away the Genoa and started to motor, wind on the nose. I throttled up, but something did not feel good. The engine bogged and the revs fell, then slowly picked up again. Something was not right.

We were motoring fine to our destination but I was worried I might lose the engine. So I did not want to drop the main and risk losing the ability to sail if the engine failed.

The main sail flogged badly as we headed the mile or so into the bay. Eventually we got in but I was loath to throttle back in case we stalled. As we approached land, Margaret stood primed with anchor ready.

However eventually we got in position to berth, dropped the main and moored stern to the pontoon uneventfully.

Pheeew, beer and crisps.

More Diesel

Next morning, I plucked up the courage to have a look at the engine. On lifting the steps there was a smell of oil fumes, and there was about half a litre of black oil under the sump! Margaret was greeted to a good morning of ‘we have a big problem’.

My first thought was that a major oil seal had gone. The rear crankshaft oil seal is a known weakness with the Volvo Penta D2-55, and this was my first pessimistic thought.

We decided to pump out the spilled oil with a little brass hand pump we have for oil changes. I held the tube in the puddle under the engine while M pumped. As I glanced sideways as the pump beside my head there was a clear puff of smoke with each pump stroke!

This was slightly alarming and I had never seen this when pumping engine oil??? I then realised this was not engine oil but diesel, and M’s magnificent pumping was causing enough compression to start combustion! Impressive. 

 Black diesel from engine bay. Gin bottle oil delivery system

While alarming, this was good news in some ways. So we ran the engine and found diesel leaking from the secondary fuel filter. The diesel had done a splendid job of cleaning under the engine, and it was the small amount of oil there that had turned it black.

One quick filter change later and a good bit of cleaning up and all appeared well. I guess that sitting in sweltering temperatures for 18 months, the rubber seal on the fuel filter had lost its sealing properties. Another argument for regular use of things.

The next morning we decided to stay local and test the engine before setting off further afield. What else could possibly go wrong? 

We motored back to the Marina on the basis that if a further problem emerged we would be in the right place to fix it. However all was well, engine compartment remained spotless and we anchored up in the very attractive anchorage just outside the marina. Close enough that we could dinghy ashore for a few items in the shop.

This can happen to a boat. 

Convinced that all was well, and with a settled forecast we decided to make our first proper passage the next day. We were heading for Bozburun, a harbour we know well and apparently with a cost effective and relaxed approach to checking out of Turkey.

It was a trip markedby its unique uneventfulness.  We left promptly at 08.00 to make the most of an absence of wind on the nose and made it about half way before it piped up. We then had a good sail into a south westerly breeze 10 to 15 knots and arrived at Bozburun tired and chilled.

Marmaris to Bozburun

Bozburun is a busy fishing village that was originally famed for sponge diving, then shipbuilding and now base for the many holiday gulets and visiting yachts. There is one main street with a scattering of rather tired looking tourist tat, but a wander of 200 meters takes you into the rural community. Women appear in traditional floral, loose trousers and headscarves. Gardens have chickens and rows of neatly sown beans, tomatoes, orange and lemon trees.

Artistic meses.

There are signs of home industry with many porches showing sewing machines, and there is clearly a constant demand for re upholstery and sail making. This is the place to come for canvas repairs or new cushions ! Not this year after our financial pain!.

A curry at Osman’s restaurant was accompanied by conversation with a few cruising Brits. Osman kindly offered to arrange a meet up with Mr Gurkan to act as our agent the following day on our quest to return to Greece to protect our VAT status.

Once the world was put to rights and agreement reached about treachery in high office, off to bed.

M. A gentle awakening at dawn with the call of the muezzin. A plaintive gentle complex song calling out over the bay. Then the mopeds started and the bustle of the village gets going.

Mr Gurkan duly arrived later in the day and was kind, efficient and patient. He took passports, papers and arranged for us to meet at the harbour masters office early the next morning .

So a down day in the meantime. A chance to get the laundry done and finally get rid of the diesel odour that seemed to be pervading everything. Also a chance to clear out the cupboards, rationalise my clothes which seem to have mysteriously shrunk over the years ! The lady at the laundry kindly relieved me of them, assuring me that they would go to a ‘ little’ poor lady in the village. Whether she would appreciate the rather eclectic assortment we’ll never know.

Time for a fresh start all round. Tomorrow we’re off to Greece and it feels that at last we’re on our way.