The Italian Shit Show
As soon as we hit the Bonifacio Strait, Kujira becomes a complete different beast. He is finally unleashing his power, cutting through the sea like a knife, smashing every little wavelet on his path, flying at a steady 7 knots. To be honest, the conditions are absolutely perfect and far from the predicted lame 5-7 knots. The wind is finally blowing on our side at a comfortable 70ish degrees and a solid 15 knots. In these conditions we can release the secret weapon: the mizzen sail. We are still newbies in the art of sailing a ketch, that is a boat with 2 masts, and while we had a successful downwind sail with Dave using only the genoa and the mizzen, we haven’t been able to find any other situations where that extra tiny sail was any good to us. Things have now changed. It is now obvious that we should make the most of this perfect day to sail as far as we want. The scenery is beautiful, blue sea, blue sky, dozens if not hundreds of little rocky islands and just as many boats.
The sailing is exciting, even exhilarating at times. Kujira breaks a new speed record at 8.2 knots. We are no longer trailing behind every other boat, we are racing them! The navigation is excellent too, with so many islands and channels, you have to pay attention but can pick the route you think might work best, the one that might offer the best wind or the best shelter from the non-existent waves. We are having a blast, all 3 of us. When the wind picks up at 20 knots, Kujira feels solid and not overpowered a bit. We can see boats in the distance being flattened by the power of the elements but we are not. It is to this day, not only the best sail we have done on Kujira but likely the best sail ever.. and we did have some exciting sails down the Hauraki golf racing with Pete and crew with a wild spinnaker. There are plenty of superb anchorages all along these islands but we don’t want to stop, not just yet. Just a little longer.
We end up picking a little bay with a 5 meter sandy bottom and crystal clear water. There are 3 little power boats closer to the shore, 2 being part of a bikini photoshoot and the 3rd one occupied by an old man who is obviously thoroughly enjoying the shoot. Shortly after we arrived they all leave and are being replaced by a small sailboat. The wind is slowly dying, the swell negligible, we have a swim before sunset, life is awesome. Kujira also seems to think that life is awesome and this big fat whale is happily rolling from side to side madly rocking the boat. We have got accustomed to the constant motion of the boat but it is a bit disconcerting to be rolling so much in such quiet conditions. We have just discovered the power of a 90 degree angle between the swell and the wind.
Wednesday. After a rolly, but comfortable night, we decide that we don’t want to leave this paradise just yet. The wind seems light and why should we rush when we can have a swim in crystal clear water. That is until we start seeing all these big black sails passing by just a mile away. They are obviously a part of some kind of serious race but we can’t resist and decide to join in. They are not aware that we do and they are twice our size, go at least twice as fast and once they deploy their kites they leave us on the spot. Now that we are out and pumped up we decide to reiterate the achievements of the previous day.
All goes well for a few hours until we start trying to go around a big headland. What should have taken us no more than 30 minutes takes us more than 2 hours. The wind is shifting and easing, we tack back and forth but make no real progress. When we finally manage to go around the head land, the wind dies to 2 knots. Kujira can’t sail in 2 knots. It is also getting late and not wanting to arrive after sunset we decide to squeeze a few drops of dinosaurs juice and get Mr Perkins to work. We are fairly near a huge rocky cliff but with hardly any wind I do not feel the risk to be thrown onto the rocks.
That is until my eyes accidentally glance at the dashboard and I realise that the engine temperature is over 100C. That’s not good… that’s seriously not good. I immediately call Kim on deck and turn off the engine. The cliffs suddenly appear to be way too close and with virtually no wind, our sails are not going to be of any use to us. I open the engine compartment and using a kitchen glove open the heat exchanger. Not a drop of coolant is left.
“Sacré bleu!”
What to do? We have to act fast but can not take the risk of melting the core reactor of the whale, aka cracking the engine block. Out of pure luck (or not) we have a bottle of coolant left by the previous owner .. is it an old problem we weren’t aware of? There is just about enough to refill the reservoir and once I restart the engine the temperature drops quickly. However we are left with a series of questions:
- Why did the temperature alarm not work?
- What happened to the coolant?
- How long can we run the engine before it happens again?
- Is Mr Perkins playing tricks on us?
- Is Kujira having a heart attack?
We are about 30 minutes away from Golfo Aranci which offers a large sandy bay for anchoring and allegedly should be well sheltered tonight. It isn’t exactly what you would call a large dwelling but rather an artificial tourist village. We go ashore after dinner to look for a a chandlery or a shop where we can buy coolant the next day. But with our luck, tomorrow is “Dia de la Republica”, a public holiday and the tiny chandlery is closed. We also find a petrol station and hope that tomorrow it will be open.
Thursday. The night is excellent but the next day the petrol station is closed so we are left without any refill. There is also no wind at the moment so we decide to tackle a few boat jobs while we wait. I have another go at the forwards bathroom, my nemesis of the past month, and securely attach the toilet which tipped over on Kim while on passage. What was meant to take 10 minutes takes us 2 hours. By the time we are done the wind is blowing at a solid 15 knots. Excellent, that should allows us to reach Olbia, the largest city in norther Sardigna, without any problem and hopefully once there we can investigate this cooling issue. Except that before starting the engine I take another look inside the reservoir and all the coolant is gone.
“Sacré bleu! Ou iz stilling my coolante?”
But the smell is a pretty dead giveaway, the coolant is in the bilge, which means there is a leak somewhere. I put on my work attire and jump inside the cave. After some time I find the location, behind one of the belts. I decide that the time has come to use my “call a friend” joker. Cedric it is, an acquaintance from La Grande Motte who has already been amazingly helpful and successfully replaced the diesel pump a month ago. His verdict is clear and immediate:
“The fresh water pump”
“How bad is it?”
“It needs to be replaced or fixed but I don’t know anyone in Sardigna who could help”
“Perkins engines are immortal” .. I call horse shit on that one too. Maybe the engine block is immortal but everything around it definitely isn’t and with 2 major breakdowns within a month and less than 60 hours of running it, I guess I know what I’m talking about.
“Is it something I can do myself?”
“To remove it is pretty straight forward, 4 bolts for the pulley hub, 6 nuts for the water pump and Bob’s your uncle”
“… well, actually he is my father-in-law, but I get the picture. Can I run the engine as it is though? We are in Buttfucknowhere at the moment and I would rather do that in Olbia which is only 8 nautical miles away.”
“That should be alright, fill it up with water, keep an ear out for the overheating alarm”
“… Which doesn’t work apparently”
“.. Ok, so an keep an eye on the gauge and you may have to refill the reservoir every 20 or 30 minutes”
Great, what could go wrong? I thank him and hang up. However, by now the wind is blowing at 20 knots, gusting 25. We feel like going out in this weather and having to park the boat with a potentially faulty engine is a terrible idea. Our anchorage is no longer sheltered though. We lay out another 20 meters of chain and brace ourselves for a wild ride. Kujira is going crazy, he wants to go out, feel the power of the wind, fly through the waves or go crash himself onto the beach. Who knows what is going on inside the head of this crazy whale but our Rockna 33, our anchor, is doing a fantastic job at keeping him in place. The other thing that is doing a fantastic job is my new anchor alarm, at least it doesn’t wake me up in the middle of the night. Whether it is because it worked or simply turned itself off we shall never know.
The other news is that I discovered out of pure random luck that, as a non EU-flagged vessel, we have to register our arrival in Italy with the local authority and get a “Costituto de Arrivo”. Great, having to deal with the Italian administration, what could go wrong…
Friday. As if nothing had happened, the next morning is calm and once the wind reaches 7 knots we decide to set sail for Olbia. It takes us exactly 7 minutes to bring the anchor up, get out of the anchorage and hoists the sails. That’s nowhere near enough for Mr Perkins to overheat. It looks like we should have a nice sail to Olbia but after just 15 minutes the wind dies to 2 knots, so the sails start flapping and Kujira starts drifting. 5 minutes later we get all excited… a little puff of wind! Not more than 5 knots but we start trimming everything. Then, just like that, it goes back to 1 knot. This will go on and repeat itself for well over an hour. In the distance we can see sail boats sometimes sailing and sometimes motoring but at this speed going to Olbia before sunset will be a challenge. A couple of curious dolphins spend 10 minutes with us, trying to cheer up the whale. They roll on their back and look at us, go away and come back but in the end they give up and decide to go to the nearby aquaculture farm for a free meal.
The Med is full of surprises. As I just started doing something inside the boat, the wind picks up from 2 knots to 20 knots in less than 2 minutes and we go from flappy sails to reefing the main and the genoa. At least now we can sail to Olbia.
Olbia has an overpriced marina, space for anchoring and a town quay. The latter sounds like the better option as it will allow us to get on and off the boat more easily, however the rules regarding its usage are a little bit confusing. You have the usual idiots leaving these kind of reviews:
“We didn’t pay, we didn’t get caught. Therefore you don’t need to pay”
“We tried to pay but couldn’t figure out where so don’t bother”
“You need a document and a fiscal stamp and then it needs to be approved, what a mess, next time, I won’t pay”
“It’s free”
As we are planning on staying more than the allowed 2 days, paying the 16 euros for using the town quai seems like a wise move, so all we have to do is park the whale. There is plenty of space and the wind is pushing us away from the quay so it shouldn’t be too difficult. Or should it?
This turned out to be our biggest fuck up so far. As we approach the quai for a nose first side on landing, a guy jumps out of his catamaran to grab our line. Not wanting to make him run for a hundred meters, we decide to change our target and reverse the boat against the quai, butt first. Except that we are not driving a Prius, we are riding a big fat whale who doesn’t like to go in reverse. While we manage to get close enough to give the stern line to the German, I am too slow to bring the nose parallel to the quay. The bow thruster is of no help and before we know it we are attached at the back with the nose swinging out perpendicular to the quay. At this point it feels like we would nearly be better off completing our 180 degree turn but the German knows the drill and tells us what to do, grabs another line and starts bringing the whale under control. After much effort and a good 10 minutes battle, Kujira is attached to the quay, parallel and the engine didn’t blow up.. which is always a bonus. The German is familiar with the place and formalities. He even gives us the form to fill in. Being Friday afternoon, all the port authorities are closed until Monday, so this will have to wait.
With no time to waste I go on a mission to find a replacement water pump AND a new cap for the reservoir as this one breaks too as I open it.
The first place I go to the guy looks at me like I am a leper as soon as I mention Perkins and advises me to check another place, a little further on the outskirts of town, a little deeper into the industrial zone. On my way I stop at a second place, a boat yard but the reaction is the same. I call a 3rd place which tell me that they will investigate it but not before Monday and when I finally reach the last place, I get a similar reaction, we don’t have a replacement but we’ll look into it on Monday and we’ll let you know. I come back to the boat, tired and defeated after walking a good 12 km in the heat. It might be time to ask google for some help.
Another fact check: “You can find spare parts everywhere as Perkins engines are widely used for heavy machineries and generators”. Have I already used my horse shit card? Because that is a massive horse shit. Maybe 20 years ago that was the case or maybe where Sammy the crook, the broker who sold us the boat, is from that’s the case. In Europe Perkins seems to be as common as the steam engine.
Our best bet at this stage is in the UK but today is the Queen’s jubilee weekend and no one is working. Just our luck. On their website they warn about the existence of 2 models for our engine which differ only by 2mm. I won’t be able to know for sure whether they have the right one until the pump is out. Meanwhile I send a few emails to various dodgy places, in Poland, in China, in the USA. That being done, I postpone jumping into the cave and extracting the pump until tomorrow and we decide to reward ourselves with a pizza. Anyway, it should be pretty easy, 4 bolts and 6 nuts. “Easy”, the famous last word…
Saturday. Temperature 30+ degrees. To start with, all the bolts and nuts are in imperial, not metrics, meaning that none of my tools properly fit. 12mm seems to be the closest match to 1/2” and with a lot of effort, sweat and swearing I manage to loosen up the 4 bolts without even dropping one in the “Bog of eternal stench” , aka the bilge. Now I can loosen the belt, easy, and remove the “dish”. Not easy. Actually impossible. I have no room to pull and twisting or turning have no impact whatsoever. I try to gently bang on it but without any success. So I try a bit less gently. Nothing. I get a large chunk of wood, wedge it against it and start hammering it. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I try, again and again but I can’t get the part off and at this stage I am getting concerned that I might end up bending it which would be disastrous for the belt. After a couple hours I give up, defeated and send a message to Cedric.
“It’s not coming off!”
“You might have to heat it up and just use more force”
Ok, I’ll try tomorrow.
Sunday isn’t a good day. Working in the cave is difficult, it’s small, extremely hot and uncomfortable. After a lot of desperate bashing I finally manage to get the dish off but it is a very short lived victory. The next 6 nuts will test my will power to the limits over the next few days. They are so old and corroded that they have fused with the engine. I can apply as much force as I want, or physically can, they don’t move a bit. Worst, they deform themselves, and slowly the hexagonal nut I am working on becomes rounder and rounder. I try to apply heat with a stove top lighter but it has no effect whatsoever. By the end of the day, one, ONE, nut comes off. I feel defeated. I investigate the possibility of removing the entire block in which the water pump goes but out of four bolts only 2 come loose.. I get a feeling of deja vu. One is so fixed that the ratchet breaks, the other one resists to hours of hammerings. Meanwhile my online investigations for a replacement are unsuccessful and of course no one is replying on a Sunday. What are we going to do if I can’t get it off? Right now I could still put it back together and we could try to go somewhere else, but can we take the risk to overheat the engine? I feel hopeless and alone.
Monday, time to deal with the Italian administration…
The port authorities are open only in the morning on Monday so we waste no time with breakfast and make our way to the Capiteneria. Just in case, I have taken with me all the documents I could think of, from the boat registration to our sailing licenses. The office isn’t too far from the boat, 15 minutes by foot. It’s a large red brick building that has power written all over it. As we enter the building a couple of people are already waiting or in conversation with who can only be described as a low grade, low paid government worker. With his tidy white shirt and pants, stereotypical of the navy, his look of “I don’t care therefore it’s going to be your problem”, we can feel that we are going to deal with a macaroni. When our turn comes, he is really quick to tell us that it is the wrong place, that he can’t help us and that we need to go to the ferry terminal. Ok, it is only 15 minutes away, by foot, along a wide unshaded road.
Once there we have the choice between 2 buildings. We pick the left one and of course the woman working at the reception tells us that it was the one on the right. However the latter is literally where people buy their ferry tickets. Not really what we were expecting neither what we want. While searching the place we find a police immigration office. Could this be it? After all we are trying to register Kujira into the country. A knock on the door and we walk in. We are being “greeted” by the cliché good cop bad cop pair. While the first one makes the effort to listen to us, the other one gives the feeling that he’s looking for a good reason to give us a fine. We explain our situation and to our surprise they tell us that we are at the wrong place and that we need to go to the Capiteneria, the red building 15 min away from here..
You must be kidding ?
So there we go again, walking along the road under an ever hotter sun. Back at the Capiteneria, the macaroni isn’t really pleased to see us again. He is obviously annoyed and repeats that we need to go to the ferry terminal.
“But we just came back from the terminal and we were told by the immigration police that we need to come here?!”
“No, no, no, ferry terminal!”
“But they told us to come back here”
“No, terminal, Capiteneria office”
“What?”
He takes a piece of scrap paper and starts tearing a square the size of a stamp before realising that it might be too small for what he has planned, so he tears another one, just a little bigger and write a few letters on it before giving it to us, like it was some kind of magical spell that would open the doors of Moria for us. Weirdo. However, while we are here, we may as well submit our intention of stay at the city quay. The problem is that we are only allowed 2 nights and without a working water pump, it looks like we might be over staying by a few days.
“La pumpa de agua de nostra barca esta muerto. Quattro, cinque dia? Ok?” I say in my non existent knowledge of Italian.
“Ok, Ok, wait”
“Ok” and so we wait in front of his desk.
“No wait”
“…”
“Wait” he repeats but this time points at the waiting chairs 2 meters away from his desk. We go sit down as requested and he disappears into another office with our form. A few minutes later he comes back with a photocopy of it.. Looks like the copy machine must be on the other side of the building.
“Grazie. Cinque dia ok?
He doesn’t reply but gestures to us that he no longer has the time or the desire to waste any more of his precious time with us. So we leave, and walk another 15 minutes back to the ferry terminal.
The magical spell seems to work as the woman working at the information desk points us in a direction. We need to pass a security check, exchange ID documents for a visitor pass, pass a few doors, enter another part of the building, go up 3 flights of stairs and finally find the saddest looking waiting room. Four bare walls and 2 broken chair frames without seats. We knock on the only door and walk in. No one. After a minute of making some noises trying to get somebody’s attention a man comes out of another office.
“Si?”
“Buongiorno, la costituto de arrivo?”
“Si”
Excellent, it only took us all morning to find you.
I start taking my documents out but instead of looking at them he gets a document out. It’s a list of all the documents required. Not only we need a 16 euros fiscal stamp that needs to be bought in the city but we also need a list of the passengers, a list of the crew and moreover we also need photocopies of all the documents. Using the copy machine which is behind him doesn’t seem to be an option. Crums. Being nearly noon, we won’t have the time to run back to town to get the stamp. I guess this mission will have to be completed tomorrow.
As we walk back along the main road for the 4th time already today, I decide to stop at one of the shipyards I contacted on Friday about the water pump.
“Buongiorno, I got in touch with you yesterday regarding a water pump”
“Si, Si”
“Any news?”
“No, I emailed Perkins, maybe I’ll have a reply this afternoon but maybe tomorrow”
“… ok, grazie”
“Have you got a radiator cap to replace my broken one?”
“Oh no”
I would have thought so. We leave.
In order to maximise our chances of victory and minimise our chances of arguing, we decide to divide and conquer. Kim goes to the city to get the stamp and the photocopies and I go back to the industrial zone to find imperial nuts as destroying the old ones appears to be my only option left. I also need to find wrenches of imperial sizes. The walk back to the industrial zone is not any better than the first time, it is just as hot and dusty. I stop at a first boatyard/chandlery but they have, of course, no imperial nuts. They advise me to go visit another place, a little bit further into the industrial zone. More road, more heat, more dust. Once at the second place I take my precious nut out like Gollum. No luck. Same for the wrenches or the radiator cap. But they suggest another place, further into the industrial zone. So I keep walking. On my way I stop at the shop I visited on Friday that was supposed to investigate the water pump and get back to me today. No luck with the nut, for the radiator cap they bring me a model which has neither the same shape nor the same size and finally regarding the pump I am told that they will get back to me once they know. To this date, I am still waiting for a reply from them. Nevertheless, they mention another shop that should have imperial equipment, and it’s not the death star.
So I keep walking, further, always further. I am now walking along a national road. The sidewalk has long disappeared. Trucks are passing me by at 90km/h. I am slowly losing faith and in my despair I even investigate 3 old destroyed cars left by the side of the road. One might have a radiator cap that fits? But I am not the first one to have had this idea, there is very little left to salvage. A generator catches my attention but I don’t have the proper tool to extract it. So I keep walking. The shop I was suggested is the very last one in the industrial zone. Behind it there are no more roads, no more buildings, only hills. For once I am a little bit lucky, not that they have anything of what I am looking for but I manage to sneak in just before they close the doors for the afternoon. The vendor however is pretty confident about the fact that the only place in all of Olbia that does imperial pieces is in the city, 15 minutes away from the boat… A lead at last?
First up though, I need to walk back and survive. I take a different route and walk by a boatyard I haven’t investigated yet. It is big, really big. They even have their own shop. It opens at 2pm so I decide to hang around for 15 minutes until they open. But the place is strange, it doesn’t look like a shop but more like a workshop. Something isn’t right. After a while the “shop”opens up. The guy is super friendly and takes a long time looking for the pump and the cap but without any luck however if I come back at 3pm the guy in charge of orders will be here. He doesn’t have any imperial nuts or does he? He asks me to wait and disappears into a gigantic warehouse. He comes back after a few minutes with a box of golden nuggets: 1/2” golden nuts.
“How many do you need?”
“8 please”
“What is the name of your boat?”
“…” that’s when everything becomes clear, I shouldn’t be here because neither is my boat.
“Well, I am not in the yard…”
“Oh..”
I must have looked so pitiful that he tells me to just take them and disappear.
“I can pay for them”
“No, no, it’s Ok”
“.. I guess I don’t need to come back at 3pm for the pump?
“Nope.”
I leave with my stash of golden nuts, feeling like a squirrel that just raided the neighbour’s stash.
Back at the boat, I can now simply destroy the old nuts. Destroying is always easier, or is it? One of the difficulties is that the bolts need to stay intact. Replacing them is physically impossible as they are welded into a part of the engine. I try to use a saw but don’t have enough space. The multi tool ends up being my weapon of choice. I am able to shave some parts of the nuts but they still don’t give in. At the end of the day, all 5 remaining nuts are still holding strong. I find myself sitting in the corner of the cave, sweating and staring into the darkness of the bilge. I feel defeated. I feel lost. I fell like crying. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what we will do. It looks like no one can help us around here and that it is battle I am fighting alone against Mr. Perkins. What are we going to do if I can’t remove it? Moreover, what are we going to do if we can’t find a replacement or if it takes 2 weeks to arrive from the other side of the planet? We have less than 500L of water left and no way to refill the tanks. Once we are out, we can no longer take showers, do the dishes or use the electric toilet. Thankfully, the solar panels are doing an amazing job at keep our batteries full because, where we are, the only other option to refill them would be to run the engine ..
On the way back we stop at the shipyard to ask about any updates regarding the pump.
“Buongiorno, any news?”
“No, nothing”
“Maybe it would be faster to call them?”
“Maybe, you are right”
“.. Could YOU maybe call them?”
“Si, that is a good idea”
“… so?”
“I’ll do it later and let you know”
“…” Sometimes, just sometimes, I find it very difficult to stay polite.
Back at the boat I jump into the cave and start working on these nuts. A mixture of multi tool, hammer, chisel and sweat gives me a break through: a 2nd nuts gives in. Now that I got the trick, it only takes me the best part of the day to get all of them off, or whatever is left of them. The victory is short lived, to my horror though, the pump didn’t need the nuts anymore to stay in place, it has fused with the next part of the engine, the one part that is held by 4 nuts 2 of which I physically can’t move. I reach a new low. I know the answer and yet I ask Cedric what I should do next.
“Heat might be your only option.. and a hammer”
Great, using a blowtorch in the confined space of the cave, surrounded by plastic and electric wires and no escape if something goes wrong seems like an excellent way to die. I’ll tackle this new challenge tomorrow. For now I am drained. I also hear back from the shipyard, Perkins is no longer supporting this engine and therefore does no longer have spare parts for it. Crums, crums, crums.
In the evening I finally get a reply from a place in Poland, they have the right pump and can send it to us via DHL but first I need to fill up a form. A Chinese Perkins knockoff part also replies to me and claim they can send me the part in under 7 days. For some weird reason, they communicate with me in German.. I order it anyway.
Wednesday. We go once more to the industrial zone, to a DIY shop to buy a blowtorch. I pick a pocket size one as it produces a shorter flame and can physically fit in the small space I have. Allegedly it heats up to a temperature of 400C. Back at the boat it’s time to set the engine on fire. But it doesn’t have any effect. Worse, it heats the metal to no more than 70C .. Basically we’ve spent 40 euros on a crème brûlée maker. I go see Marco, our neighbour with whom we have become friends with. He has a proper blowtorch. I don’t really like the idea but I am desperate and out of options. Somehow I managed not to burn or melt anything but the pump is not moving a bit. I give up for the day.
I also get the confirmation from Poland that I can now order the pump. I do that too. The race is now on between the Chinese pump and the Polish pump, that is if I manage to remove the water pump.
Going through the boat documentation, I also discover the original Perkins engine booklet that came with the boat from 1981. Inside is the handwritten serial number of the engine: GA00270V38990G, which is interpreted like this based on the Perkins identification book:
GA is the engine type: 4.154
00270 is the SOS order reference number
V the country of manufacture: Pakistan
38990 the serial number
G the year of manufacture: 1980
V the country of manufacture: Pakistan ..
Pakistan ..
Pakistan?!? Is Mr Perkins an undercover agent? Is his real name Mr Hassan Muhammad? This really confuses us as the information we had was that the 4.154 engine had only been built in the UK and in Japan. Is this the reason why our pump doesn’t match the dimensions of the British pump? In which case, are either the Chinese pump or the Polish pump going to fit? If neither do, what are we going to do? Does it mean we will need to replace the engine? We don’t have the budget for it and even if we did, we are no longer able to move the boat…. And even if we did, would a shipyard in Olbia have one and be able to install it? Or are we going to be stuck here all summer? …
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