Boat Repair

Following a blissfully calm morning, doing little more than sitting on the deck, soaking in the view and consuming coffee the occupants of the little jungle house on the hill made our way to town, accompanied by Jessica, our lovable little mutt. Time to dock. No room at Chow Kai, my hardware store of choice. Hmmm, let's see what kind of abuse is heaped upon us for occupying a slip behind the sailboat tour company. It was dished out warm and firm, no I couldn't stay there. Brandy went to La Buga Dive Shop for her first dive this trip and Ricardo, the owner pointed to a slip and said it had my name on it. I'll be getting my Dive Master Certification at La Buga, so that's pretty much every weekday for the next couple of months.

First stop was an attempt to get a duplicate boat key. My only chance was the Yamaha dealer. Yes, they duplicate keys, but not console keys for Yamaha, a full court banana country press. He shoots, he scores! I was told that maybe I could get one made in David, on the Pacific side. Hell, that's nothing but a four hour ride each way for a maybe.

Down at Earl's boat repair I found Erwin, surrounded by near a dozen people, preparing to leave the business and turn it over to Leonardo, a Ngobe. I asked if I could interrupt and told Erwin that I wanted a pair of electrical lines snaked through the conduit, one affixed to the new bilge pump and switch and the other left as a spare for another bilge pump I would obtain. Erwin translated to Leonardo and I was advised to go fetch my boat. Off I went to get my boat and upon return Leonardo started shuffling the boats that blocked the way to the boat lift. I moored, leaving him to finish his nautical Rubik's cube after getting a quote of $20 to do the work and returned to La Buga, got my Emergency First Responder study material and tried to connect to the internet there. Little Jessica was doing her usual fine job of luring bikini clad hotties while I tried to connect to the internet. The owner didn't know the password and passed me off to another guy who gave me one that did not work. The woman who runs the restaurant knew the correct key. Hint, case is important and one cannot subsititute underscores for dashes. I wrote down the correct password and gave it to Ricardo for reference.

Off to a place I frequently haunt I listened to the house jack-of-all-trades docking the boat. Every time he put the engine in reverse a long grinding of gears testified that the lower unit on this outboard was in the process of being converted to metallic shavings and dust, issuing protest that penetrated clouds of blue smoke, signalling the upper unit was near ready to join the lower unit.

Back to the boat shop, the heavy battery cables were being repaired, a large pile of brochantite and malachite, the green byproducts of copper oxidation, littered the deck. Would I like the cable replaced? That would be a "yes." Another hour and a half. Don't forget, I want the hull inspected, it has a breach. Upon another return trip, the boat was hoisted further and a fist sized hole, with the fiberglass in place but with a large ragged edge was found to be the source of the leak. Now I needed to call Worth, but Stephen has his number and he is in Texas and Erwin failed to give me his number so I couldn't call Erwin and ask. I finally got the number and called Worth. He obviously didn't know who I was. "Worth, it's me, Jim, we are going to go snake catching together." Well that warmed him up. See you tomorrow at 11 after the Organic Products sale at the Cosmic Crab.

Eventually the boat was put back together and I paid the total tab, which included half an hour's labor at $20. $40 an hour for mechanic labor seemed excessive, but who am I to bitch when he actually worked for a couple of hours. The total tab was $56.

My room-mates found me and we headed back. It had been a cloudy day and after a couple of loads of laundry the batteries had not recharged. Back down to the boat to fetch some gas for the generator. It ran for about 20 minutes and then sputtered to a stop. I added more gas but it refused to start again. I pulled repeatedly on the Honda engine, stopping when I held the pull handle and a limp bit of nylon rope, no longer affixed to the motor. Guess I'll have to buy some rope and a socket set and repair this, something I've done so many times I couldn't imagine trying to put a number on it.

Jessica needed to be crated, with a free run of the house she stays up all night, plays with toys, chews on things and blesses us with piles and puddles. I locked her in the bodega, hoping that the area was sufficiently small that she would be averse to soiling it. She protested in no uncertain terms, howling and barking but finally going to sleep. I was pleased this morning to find that she had controlled herself and that upon release she provided fertilizer to the slope on the west of my house. She know plays with her favorite toy, a six inch diameter hard plastic silverware holder with a long plastic handle. It rolls. Pounce on it and it scoots. Pick it up with the handle and it bangs on the wooden deck which sounds like a loud drum. I have no idea how these women sleep through this.