No Plane on Sunday (or Monday)… (Part II)

“You can throw your luggage down
Lose your cool and stamp around
But there’s nothing, nothing you can do
…

No plane on Sunday
Maybe be one come Monday
Just a hopeless situation
Make the best of it’s all you can do
Till they get through”

• Jimmy Buffett, No Plane on Sunday

 

This piece is a continuation of Part 1 previously posted. Click here to read.

 

22 March 2019

Georgetown, Great Exuma

Bahamas

 

As I write this, I am sharing an empty deck outside of a colorful little Bahamian café with a French sailor who is, like me, waiting for Island Boy Café to open for our morning coffee. Though the scheduled opening time of 11:00 is only six minutes away, no employees have arrived yet. The other day, when we both found ourselves here, we finally got coffee around noon. But that’s ok, we’re on island time.

 

While in Key West, Ziggy and I, nearly every morning, walked into the Historic Seaport for a café con leche, served with a smile and piece of bacon for Ziggy, from Eko at Fisherman’s Cafe. Those morning jaunts became some of our best memories from our time there and one of the hardest parts of having to say goodbye to Key West. With the circumstances under which we found ourselves initially “stuck” in Key Largo and John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, and the memories of our Fisherman’s Café experiences fresh in our minds, finding a comforting “third space” to walk to with Ziggy to peruse the news and even get a cup of coffee was an important step in “making the best of it.”  It was the mermaid laden sign out front indicating hot dogs and root beer floats that initially attracted us, during our walk the morning following our town into Pennekamp, to Miller’s Village. Though the promise of a cold sugary root beer float was the hook in our mouth, we were pleased to find that Dale’s Dog’s, located through the nautical flotsam decorated courtyard, offered inexpensive coffee and $1 hot dogs – enticing for a frugal former accountant trying to preserve the provisions we had aboard Albion for our eventual departure to the Bahamas. Over the course of our daily coffee runs, Miller’s Village became more than a place to grab a cup of coffee and cheap meal, it became a little oasis from the frustrations of broken motors and uncooperative weather, and one where we were greeted each day by a couple who genuinely cared for us and sought to assist in whatever way possible – be it the use of his workshop, a bike for running to West Marine, or simply a smile and distracting conversation after an obviously frustrating phone call with a supplier.  The love shown to us by Dale and Beth is something for which we will be forever thankful and look back upon with fondness as we reflect on this great journey.

 

 

“…where everybody knows your name”

 

It’s not that Ziggy and I needed an escape from the marina that gravitated us to Miller’s Village daily, quite the contrary, we were leaving behind a great little community. We were all there for the same reason, though the specific circumstances were different in each case. I arrived under tow. Ohana was waiting on a titer test for their dog Thor. Capt. Steve was there “camping” on his boat for a working vacation, Captain Morgan’s (yes, the Captain Morgan) great-great-great grandson was cruising through the Keys, and SV Unwritten was, like all of us, waiting on the weather to cooperate. In that sense, our troubles were “all the same” to quote the “Cheers” theme song – as the daily grind of life united the patrons of Cheers, those of us in John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park were united by our love of boating and desire for the weather to allow us to continue our desired travels. The weather was most important to those of us waiting to cross over to the Bahamas – and it proved to be a lengthy wait. The little community that developed during that time changed as boats came and went – but the core remained consistent, and even grew when another catamaran, Pappillon, arrived in the mooring field, also waiting for that coveted weather window. Captain Morgan was able to sneak down to Bahia Honda (allowing me to steal his slip on the floating pier after his departure) for a time, and when he returned to Pennekamp, we were all still there – leading him to quip to a fellow trawler that followed him up from Bahia Honda “You know the show ‘Cheers’? This place is like ‘Cheers.’ I know all these sailboats – There’s Ohana, and Albion… I know them all.”  As Buffett so eloquently sang in No Plane on Sunday, “…make the best of its ‘bout all you can do” – and that’s what we did. If there is a place to be “stuck,” with its abundant natural beauty, protected mooring field and marina, coral reefs, and, what proved to be, a community of caring boaters, John Pennekamp was certainly a good one. With some of America’s most beautiful reefs out our front door, a few of us grabbed our gear and boarded Ohana to snorkel the Christ of the Abyss statue and dive for some lobster at a reef outside the park boundary. The Christ statue alluded us as we never did find it and rather than come home with a bag of lobsters, we returned empty handed and I lost my tickle stick – but, we spent a day in the water observing some of the best dive spots in the Keys.  We also united over food, be it sundowners in the cockpit of Albion (that had to be moved inside when the downpour rain came) or taco night in the mooring field aboard Ohana. Most importantly, it was a community that looked out for and supported each other, as was evident throughout the process of getting Albion’s little Universal up and running again as well as when the dinghy motor decided to throw a tantrum – only days before departure.

 

 

 

No plane on Sunday
Maybe be one come MondayTuesday…

Were it not for taco night aboard Ohana, who at that point was back out in the mooring field, we may not have noticed the issue with our little outboard until reaching Bimini as we were, after all, in the marina and no longer doing the daily dinghy commute to shore. Since he had a truck at the marina, Capt Steve drove to Publix to get some last minute supplies then I was to shuttle him out to Ohana so Candy could finish cooking before the rest of the “Cheers” crew arrived (does the fact that I’m a recovering CPA make me Norm?). However, when we hopped in the dinghy for the trip through the mangroves, the little Yamaha 2.5hp refused to start – it seems as though these problems usually occur when one is in a hurry. After numerous pulls, though it was trying to start, it only flooded rather than turning over. So, Tim dinghied-in to pick us up (and more importantly the remaining ingredients) and one more issue was added to my 3:00 AM worry sessions.

 

The next morning, to troubleshoot the problem, I started with the spark plug. Though there are multiple spare plugs buried deep somewhere in the catacombs of an overstuffed Albion, now that I needed them, they evaded discovery, leading to a trip to the Yamaha dealer who claimed it was a “specialty” plug and therefore not something they stock, requiring stops at several auto stores before finding the proper plug at NAPA.  After replacing the plug and ruling that out as the source our problems, and moving onto tracing fuel through the fuel system, which like the like the plug, was ruled out, Tim arrived to help take apart the carburetor. Though the carburetor had been cleaned before leaving Michigan, and again in Key West only weeks earlier, it seemed the logical culprit in the scenario. Upon removal, it was evident that the carburetor was indeed suffering the consequences of Ethanol (which as far as I know had not been in the fuel since the motors time on the Chesapeake, unless Key West was the source), so, Phil from Pappillon who was out provisioning, grabbed a can of carb cleaner for us and we went about a dockside carb tear-down. After all that effort, still no luck. Being that it was a Friday and we were scheduled to take advantage of the short weather window predicted for Sunday, it was imperative that we found a replacement carburetor quickly. Tim, the dockmaster at Pennekamp helped locate Yamaha dealers throughout the Keys in an effort to source the part, and thankfully, one of the dealers he discovered claimed they could likely have the carb, for about $100 overnight shipping, by 11:00 AM Saturday. Come 11:00 Saturday, with Dockmaster Tim’s son enroute to pick up the part, and no word from the dealer, it was admitted after calling them that the part had not arrived – claiming it was routed through Kentucky and stranded from a supposed winter storm. Now, faced with our desperately needed carburetor sitting in Kentucky and our wallet unnecessarily $100 lighter, we began searching for a Plan B. Enter again, Dockmaster Tim who informed us of TropicOcean Airways who, a few years prior, flew a windlass into the Bahamas for him. Being the weekend, and knowing that I would be leaving the next day for our crossing and out of communication until getting our BTC cell service set-up in Bimini, my father began coordinating between the Key’s Yamaha dealer and TropicOcean Airways, who represented that if the part arrived to them by 13:00 on Tuesday, it would be on the afternoon seaplane into Bimini. So, the package that finally arrived into Marathon on Monday was once again overnighted, this time to Ft. Lauderdale, where it was confirmed by UPS as having been delivered at 12:26. With the indicated timely delivery of the package, Tim from Ohana and I headed into North Bimini to meet the seaplane, which arrived without our much needed package. After discussing with the pilot, who called the office to inquire regarding the whereabouts of our little carburetor, which at that point was nowhere to be found. It was later learned that UPS initially delivered the package to the wrong address.

 

Eventually, it found its way to proper facility, however, the Yamaha dealer neglected to put my name on the box, so when it arrived, TropicOcean Airways didn’t know what to do with the “mystery package.” After sorting out the proper routing of the package, the next day, the gang of Livin’ the Dream, Ohana, Ziggy, and I once again made the run into North Bimini and retrieved the carburetor, which as a repair part for the boat, was not subject to customs duty. With great anticipation, we installed the new carb, and with crossed fingers, pulled the starting cord to find our luck was still short and the little Yamaha refused to start. As with the old carb, the motor quickly flooded.

 

 

After exhausting the brain power of two very mechanically inclined buddy boats, we learned from a German cruiser of a local mechanic, Orlando, who the cruiser swore was the best in the Bahamas and confident that, if we could get ahold of him, Orlando would get the pesky motor running. Through the Bimini Coconut Telegraph, Cindy of Livin’ the Dream was able to, though not directly (everyone seemed to know him but not have his number…), get through our need for Orlando’s services. Come Monday, Orlando arrived, after feeding the marina cats, with his golf cart and took the motor to the back lot of Bimini Sands Marina where he returned shortly after to see if I had some oil and asking that I come along so he could show me the problem. Apparently, fuel was getting into the oil – likely from the constant flooding, causing the motor to fail to run. Since the oil had not been changed subsequent leaving home, between the ethanol remnants in the carb and the fuel content of the oil increasing, this was likely the source of our problems throughout much of the trip – the backyard Bimini mechanic solved in less than an hour, for $60, what multiple Yamaha Certified dealers and over $1,000 did not. With a safe arrival in Bimini, being reunited with our long-time buddy boat and cherished friends aboard Livin’ the Dream, a new friendship with Ohana, lifelong memories from our time in Pennekamp, and now a working outboard, Ziggy and I dinghied into North Bimini to explore (watching a ray swim beneath us in the cut) and, taking advantage of our newfound freedom, drifted back to South Bimini – enjoying the larimar blue waters as we slowly drifted towards the channel into Bimini Sands Marina and an evening ahead watching the sunset with our cruising friends.

 

 

 

“…however rough the going, you have the feeling, ‘[Screw] it! I wouldn’t swap places with anyone else for anything on this earth.”

• Sterling Hayden, Wanderer