The Galapagos are a very secluded group of islands. There are numerous rare inhabitants that live and prosper on the islands; they are the home of new animal species, never seen or heard of before (until 1535). These islands are what gave birth to the discussion of evolution. The coordinates on the Pacific Ocean are Latitude 0° and Longitude 91°; they are located 600 miles away from the closest mainland (Ecuador) and have been part of Ecuador since the 1870’s. There are fifteen islands in the group, and nineteen volcanoes, which created the islands, the first one over 4 million years ago. These islands play a big part in human history and the study of life.
The man who discovered these islands was Fray Tomas De Berlanga. Sent on a mission from King Charles V to report on the anarchic Peru situation. It was March 10, 1535 that his ship officially discovered the Galapagos Islands. It was an accident, he was drifting with the current since there was no wind and soon enough he happened upon the fifteen islands. Which over time developed the name enchanted islands. At the time, the Latitude and Longitude of the islands were not easy to determine, so the islands were really hard to find. Even though Fray Tomas discovered them, Charles Darwin founder of the Theory of Evolution made them famous. In 1832 the islands were officially claimed part of Ecuador, which now supplies them with resources. In the beginning the islands had no indigenous people; no one had lived there except for the animals. Since then, the population of the Galapagos has tripled in the last 20 years, now there are over 35,000 people spread throughout the four main islands, (one of the excursion guides said that 220,000 tourists visited the islands in 2014). The Galapagos are not a largely populated group of islands compared to Venice Beach in California where on a beautiful Sunday, one million people flood the beaches from outlying areas of Los Angeles.
Sea Lions at Puerto Villamil dinghy dock. (photo by Bryce)
There are numerous amounts of animals spread throughout all the islands. The most famous animals that live there are the Marine Iguanas, Tortoises, Galapagos Penguins, Flightless Cormorants, Blue Footed Boobies and Darwin’s thirteen finches. The only way these creatures could have found their way to the Galapagos would have been by bird, in a bird, on a bird, by the current on a flotation device, by swimming or by adapting/evolving. Even after finding the Galapagos the various species had to find a source of food not already being consumed, then find a mate to keep the species going. It is very challenging to survive in a new environment!
Blue-footed Boobie (drawn by Bryce)
Although there are lots of animals on the island, I want to talk about a certain three: Blue-footed Boobies, Darwin’s Finches, and Marine Iguanas. The reason the Blue-Footed Boobie is called boobie is due to the Spanish name for stupid = bobo. These birds like most birds love to eat fish and will dive meters out of the sky to catch one…too bad they do the same for fishing lures as we snagged a brown boobie which sadly drowned on our lure about 1,000 miles away from the islands. They also like to live in colonies among the shore next to the ocean, and they only live to the age of about 20. Despite the birds’ stupidity, it is still one of my favorite animals living on the islands. On the island you might be able to find the blue -footed boobie waddle like penguins trying to impress the females in their mating dance trying to show off their blue feet. If the female is fond of the male’s dance she will follow along behind him imitating his little dance. The dance itself is rather silly.
Large billed ground finch
The Galapagos Islands are home to Darwin’s famous 13 finches, which he discovered in 1835. According to Darwin, the first island that the Mother of all Galapagos finches arrived on was San Cristobal, and over time the finches migrated to the other islands. As the population of the finches grew on the islands and resources became scarce, adaptations started to occur. To the untrained eye, the finches look very similar. They all mostly have the same color, brown green or black, and pretty much have the regular sizes: small, medium and large, but if you take a closer look, you might be able to tell that the beaks on each variety of bird have slight differences.The reason for this is different varieties of food require different bills. So over time, Darwin speculated that the first finches that colonized on San Cristobal, eventually adapted and their bills modified for specific eating functions. Darwin felt the species evolved over time due to natural selection in newborns. Newborns that had the ability to eat different varieties of food due to slight changes in thickness or length or shape of the beak enabled them to survive and reproduce. That is how the theory of evolution came to be.
Marine Iguana (photo by Leslie)
Galapagos Marine Iguanas are the only iguanas known to man that can swim in the ocean; they only live on these islands. Their main diet is algae, which they dive down into the ocean blue to eat. During the day, you can find the iguanas lying everywhere, warming themselves and trying to relieve their lungs of salt water so they can go back into the ocean and get something more to eat. When walking nearby one, it’s important to be aware for the occasional salty snott ball that they blow out of their noses. These reptiles have many interesting features. One very noticeable feature is their spiny-like mohawk that runs all the way from the top of their head to the end of their tail. When you look at them, you might think they are the next step down from a dragon; they have long claws, black skin, spikey mohawks, and they spit water instead of fire from their noses. They are the most interesting animals on the islands!
Bryce at Galapagos Tortoise Breeding Center (photo by Leslie)
We got a chance to visit Isabela Island, the largest island in the Galapagos. It was really cool to see all the unusual creatures that live there in the water and on the land. I was so excited to see in person the Marine Iguanas and the Blue-Footed Boobies. We also got a chance to explore Sierra Negra Volcan, which has the second largest crater in the world. I thought the sulfer holes were colorful and interesting as everything else on the lava fields was black. Most of all, the snorkeling was extraordinary; I loved seeing a 4.5 foot white tipped shark sleeping in a water cave, and swimming next to humungous green sea turtles. I had a great time on the island of Isabela.
The Galapagos Islands and National Park are located on the equator at 0° latitude and approximately 90° longitude. It’s located in the Pacific Ocean about 600 miles west of Ecuador. There are 19 islands in the Galapagos Archipelago. Fray Tomas discovered the islands in March 1535 accidentally because he was headed to Peru but at a certain point, there was no wind, and the ship drifted off course to the archipelago. There were no native people when the islands were first discovered. In the early 1800’s through the early 1900’s, different colonies were established but failed. It wasn’t until the Second World War when the American Air Force built an airport to defend the Panama Canal that more people began to live in the Galapagos. In 1994 it is estimated that 20,000 people populated four of the primary islands: San Cristobal, Santa Cruz, Floreana and Isabela. The islands of the Galapagos are special because of the animals. Charles Darwin made the islands famous because he wrote a book called “The Origin of the Species” published in 1859 based on his travels to the Galapagos in 1835. His famous book was a study of evolution or natural selection based mostly on what he learned studying the finches. The tame animals that make the Galapagos interesting to visit today include: turtles, tortoises, boobies, marine and land iguanas, penguins, flamingos, cormorants, sea lions, and sea horses. I am most interested in the Black Marine Turtles and the Galapagos Penguins.
Black Turtle at Los Tuneles, Isla Isabela (photo by Trent)
There are eight species of marine turtles in the world but only four species have been seen in the Galapagos .The most common turtle is the Black Marine Turtle. The turtles came from Baja California. Only four other turtles have been seen in the Galapagos: the Leatherback, the Olive Ridley, the Hawksbill, and the Green Turtle. I got to see these black turtles and green turtles up close while snorkeling. They swam slowly and gracefully feeding on marine algae. The turtles were much larger than me. I also got to see really cool huge tortoises at the Tortoise Breading Center of Villamil. I learned that when tortoises lay eggs in the wild only 5 to7 live but in the breading center, almost all of the 120 laid eggs survive. The tortoise populations are now replenishing after their numbers were destroyed by pirates and whalers.
Trent & Bryce at the Galapagos Tortoise Breeding Center (photo by Trent)
The black turtle feeds on ulva. Ulva is a sort of algae that comes from the leaves of a red mangrove. Male turtles happen to be smaller than the female black turtles and male turtles also have claws to attach themselves to the female to procreate. Males and females can begin to procreate around the ages of 20 to 25 years of age. The mating season starts when the turtles feel that it is hot outside. The turtles lay eggs in January threw June. The adult’s shell is 84 centimeters long.
Black Turtle with Trent at Los Tuneles, Isla Isabela (photo by Trent)
The females usually lay eggs during the night. She digs a hole for a while till it’s deep enough. She lays about 80 to 120 eggs close to the size of ping-pong balls at the very bottom of the nest, and then she buries them with sand. It takes about 55 days for them to hatch. The babies are soft and about 4 centimeters long. If the temperature is 30°C when the eggs are in their nest, every single egg will be female. But if the temperature is less than 30°C, they will be male. The black turtles’ worst predators are sharks and orcas in the water. Crabs, and the beetle Trox Suberosis prey on the eggs. If the eggs hatch in the day, the baby turtles can’t see and they can’t find the water because the sun is too strong. The adult female turtles tend to lay their eggs at night so that the babies hatch at night.
Drawing by Trent
The Galapagos penguin is related to the Magellan Penguin. The Magellan Penguin comes from Southern Chile. It’s also related to the Penguin of the Falkland Islands near Antarctica. The penguins came to the Galapagos Islands by the Humboldt Current. On the islands there were 13,000 penguins measured in 1982-1983. The penguins swim with their front fins and steer with their back fins. Penguins swim really fast underwater and jump out of the water when they are happy. When they travel on land over rocks, they jump from rock to rock. Before jumping it stretches its neck forward as if studying the terrain.
Galapagos Penguin at Los Tuneles, Isla Isabela (photo by Trent)
During the mating season, the Galapagos penguins preen each other’s heads and also slap themselves gently with the front flippers. They nest in cavities where eggs will be laid three to four days apart. On Fernandina Island, egg laying occurs in September. Incubation lasts for 38 to 40 days. Penguins are very shy animals so they nest in groups. They sleep on land and look for food during the day and return to shore in the late afternoon. In the early morning you can see them between 5 and 7 am. Penguins form a wake behind them just like ducks. In 1982 to 1983 the Galapagos lost 77% of the population, but since 1985 their number has slowly been returning to about 2 to 3000 penguins. Their predators are Red Crabs, Rice Rats, Galapagos Snakes, Short-Eared Owls, and Galapagos Hawks. I got to see many penguins from a distance in my kayak and when I was snorkeling in Los Tuneles, I got a chance to swim up close to 7 penguins, which were sunning themselves on the rocks.
The island we visited was Isabela, the largest in the archipelago. It has five volcanoes and the most northern volcano, Volcan Wolf, erupted while we were visiting on the island. We didn’t feel it or hear it because the lava flow and ashes flew northeast. Puerto Villamil where we were anchored is located on the southeastern corner of the island in Turtle Bay. We got to visit Volcan Sierra Negra. It was incredible to see because it’s the 2nd largest active crater in the world after the crater in Yellowstone Park. The last time Sierra Negra erupted was in 2005.
I thought our stay on Isla Isabela in the Galapagos was super amazing because of all the animals, the great food and the interesting culture: everyone riding bikes, sandy roads, open shops, and friendly people. But I really wish I could have been able to visit a different island too.
Sunforce 600W Marine Wind Turbine mounted on Kandu’s poop deck.
More than two years ago, I purchased and had my uncle install a replacement wind turbine, a propeller on its own mast at the back of the boat that the wind spins, turning an alternator. I bought a new one because the old one looked tired and parts were unavailable. Passive generation of electricity is important to us, helping us minimize the cost and time of having to burn hydrocarbons to charge our batteries.
As the wind spins the alternator, generated AC electricity is sent to a controller, called an MPPT (Maximum Power Point Tracking). Among its roles, the controller monitors the output of the wind generator and compares it to the charge on the battery. If the battery is drawn down to a lower voltage than the wind generator is producing, the controller converts the AC volts to DC volts and sends the electrical charge to the hungry batteries. If the batteries are charged, the controller avoids the conversion, and the electricity goes nowhere. My problem is that our controller isn’t sending the product electricity the wind generator is manufacturing to the wanting batteries.
Controller: the brains between wind generation and batteries. This one will be replaced.
To confirm my suspicion, I followed Brett’s advice (a retired marine electrician and former commercial fisher, living in San Diego, a friend of my in-laws) and drew down Kandu’s house batteries from 12.9 volts to 12.0 volts, making them very hungry batteries. When the wind came up, the controller should have been eager to feed them, but it would not. Calling the manufacturer, a French-Canadian company in Quebec called Sunforce products, I spoke with one of its support technicians, Fernando (a not so French sounding name, I know). After laying out all that I had done to narrow down the problem, he independently came to the same conclusion: a bad controller. But it had been more than two years since I had purchased the unit and they had since discontinued the product. Arrgh! I explained to Fernando that I had been working hard these past two years to prep our boat for our circumnavigation. Although I had installed it two years ago, assuming that because it was new it would be fine, and although I was having my suspicions about the unit, it was only now that I had made time to fully test it.
US Navy Yacht Club, Kandu awaits arrival of new controllers to San Diego.
Compassionate Fernando was not deterred. Sunforce had a few non-marine grade controllers left: one in the lab and a couple on the shelf. After testing them, without asking for a receipt or a serial number, just an address, Fernando shipped two units to me: the lab one because it was so well tested that he knew it would work, and a second, because neither were marine grade so he wanted us to have a back-up. The issue has delayed our departure by a week, . . . so what’s new? When the replacement controllers arrive, it will take a day to install the lab one, and we’ll be right as rain, arguably better than had there been no problem. I’m impressed with Sunforce for backing its products the way they do. May the (sun)Force be with us!
Note to the reader. Again, just as with my last posting, this is one of the (even longer), “this is what I learned to today, everything you ever wanted to know about” blog posts. For those less technically drawn, my next post will be about retrieving my smuggled pick-pocketed phone near the US-Mexican border.
San Diego’s peacock-colored skyline at dusk, as seen across from the Silver Gate Yacht Club at Shelter Island.
Long time, pre-college friend, Deren, having read my previous blog post, “Fuel for Thought,” got on a plane and flew from Seattle to San Diego to help me finish getting Kandu ready. With his help, we found the likely source of a clicking sound I’d heard when we came in from Oceanside: the alternator belt on the engine was loose and worn. We replaced it and the refrigerator air-conditioning compressor belt as well. With a little help from Bryce, Deren replaced the rechargeable batteries in the solar vents, while I determined that the wind generator had a faulty controller and arranged for a replacement. We tested the Honda generator, insuring it could properly charge our boat’s batteries. And we went sailing in San Diego Harbor, successfully testing the wind vane self-steering. With Deren’s help, we accomplished three days of work in one!!! I was elated. We celebrated with a Bali-Hai Restaurant cocktail (the strongest libation California law allows a bar to sell) and a spectacular view of a full-moon rising over a peacock-colored San Diego skyline.
Full Moon Rising over San Diego
The next day, with fish net in hand, we removed the inspection plate from Kandu’s largest fuel tank, the 90-gal center tank, located in the bilge. Following legend Tom’s advice (read blog post “Fuel for Thought, Part II”), I had marinated the fuel in bacteria sugars-eating elixir for 5 days.
11″ cover plate. The towels buffer nuts from straying too far while removing.
Lifting off the 11-inch diameter steel inspection plate cover, we immediately observed the rotted edges of the black neoprene gasket material that made the seal between the outside edge of the cover and the 8-inch diameter steel tank opening. Carefully we cut away the rotted gasket material from around the opening, insuring nothing fell into the tank. Once cleanly removed, it was time to perform Tom’s other recommended tasks: 1) determine whether the tank’s drawtubes had filters on the end, and if so, their condition, possibly removing and cleaning them, and 2) find and remove whatever material may be blocking the drawtube.
Long time friend, Deren, sporting two sets of eye glasses and an LED spotlight, helps envision next steps.
Appreciating the importance of the tasks, I couldn’t leave success up to chance. I needed the best possible information I could afford. I also wanted to know whether I had a bunch of slimy tar-like sludge at the bottom of my tank, or slime growing on the sides of my tanks. Rather than blindly waving a fish net in hopes of capturing the offending articles, I decided to alleviate any doubt. From the outside face of the tank, I compare the depth of the tank against the length of my arm. The inspection plate is close enough to the aft-side of the tank and the bottom is shallow enough that my arm should easily reach the bottom of the drawtube. Removing my shirt, I reach the full length of my arm into the bowels of the tank. Fortunately for me, I don’t have the best sense of smell, so the Eau d’Diesel wasn’t bothering me so much. Besides, I find the newer diesel formula doesn’t smell as bad as the older stuff did. Reaching down to the bottom of the 5/16” drawtube’s intake, all questions were answered. A quarter-sized piece of rubber is stuck to its end and I felt no filter. Feeling around further, I found and removed large pieces of rubber, making up what was likely the 8” center of the 11” gasket. It turns out that the gasket wasn’t a ring but rather a single circular piece. The center had dissolved and dropped to the bottom of the tank. Piece by slimy piece, I pulled the harmful segments from the tank’s bottom. The diesel had apparently swelled the rubber material. Most satisfyingly, the slimy texture seemed more a result of oily diesel having saturated the neoprene rubber than that of a bacterial coating. Better yet, I felt no slimy sludge at the tank’s bottom or sides or top, only some rust sediment which is too heavy and would be easily filtered even if it did get pulled up into the drawtube, nothing to worry about. I am relieved, . . . very relieved. Better to discover all this now, in the calm of San Diego Bay than later, in the rough of Mexico and the Pacific beyond.
My elation is clouded by disappointment, why had someone installed such a poor gasket material, something that could dissolve and slough off into the tank and block fuel flow? The tanks had been cleaned by a professional tank cleaner four and half years earlier in San Carlos, Mexico, a popular boating town on the eastern edge of the Sea of Cortez. Surely, as a professional, he knew what he was doing when he replaced the gaskets? Then it dawned on me: newer US diesel is formulated with biofuels and additives that don’t exist (or at least didn’t 4.5 years ago) in Mexico. The new diesel eats rubber. Aware now of the problem, we made a plan to replace all four inspection plate gaskets (the main/center tank has two inspection plates, the second is a square opening added after the factory). First, we had to determine with what material to replace the faulty gaskets. While I moved on to other tasks, Deren walked to vendors along Shelter Island Drive to determine the proper substance. Cork was one idea that I rejected immediately. Ten minutes later, Deren called with a recommendation of nitrile. After a couple of phone calls, I located a distributor in northern San Diego’s industrial park. They said nitrile was indeed impervious to diesel. Thank goodness Leslie wanted to keep our car until we left California! An hour later, I had a $20 roll of shiny black, stinky nitrile rubber on board.
Cutting diesel impervious nitrile into inspection plate gaskets for Kandu’s fuel tanks at the Silver Gate Yacht Club guest dock.
While Deren prepared the other tanks for the removal of their inspection plate covers, using the center tank’s plate as a cutting pattern, and the side tanks having the same size inspection plates, I went on the dock and used a utility knife to cut the rubber to shape. Inspection plate by inspection plate, we carefully removed the deteriorating gasket material and replaced it with fresh cut, 1/8” nitrile.
Deren prepares inspection plate removal from saddle tanks.
The center gasket material for the side (a.k.a. “saddle”) tanks had not yet fallen in. We were able to remove them intact. But the center section of the second, rectangular, inspection plate, the ‘after-market’ one installed as an after-thought on the forward part of the center tank, had been eaten away, just the rotted rubber outline remained. So, without hesitation, we prepared a bucket, I pulled off my shirt and confidently slipped my arm carefully through the opening and into the cool cavity of pinkish diesel. But unlike the other side of the tank, I found no rubber bits at the bottom of the tank. Each tank has baffles, metal walls of sheet metal welded in place to prevent the fuel from sloshing back and forth. Holes in the baffles allow fuel to flow more slowly toward the lowest part of the tank, where by means of the engine’s fuel pump, the drawtube, like a straw, sucks fuel into the engine’s injectors, after passing through four fuel filters. The baffle hole edges are sharp. I needed to be careful when I reached into them, searching around and behind the baffle walls with my fingers like a game of blind-man’s hide’n’seek. Still, I found nothing. I did it again, to be sure, and again, I found nothing. The tank has no slime, but no trace of the deteriorated rubber either. Then it came to me: I had pulled a lot of rubber out of that first inspection plate port. Maybe with all the movement, the rubber from this port had made its way past all the baffles to the lowest part of the tank and to the other port. But how could I be sure? I recalled that when a mother gives birth, to insure the entire placenta has been removed, OB GYN’s piece together on a side table all extracted placenta bits and make a complete placenta, thus confirming no pieces remain inside the mother. On the dock, I set down a large black plastic trash bag and pulled from the orange 5-gallon plastic bucket the pieces we had collected. I set aside the saddle tanks’ gaskets, as they were intact. Making space for the center tank’s gaskets, I first took the drier edge remnants of the circular port and butted them up to each other. Paying close attention to how the edges lined up, careful to match their patterns, I made a ring. But the center circular section of the gasket was larger than the outer ring, presumably because it had swelled with diesel and slept on the bottom. Still I was able to piece most of it together. There were plenty of rubber pieces left to make up another gasket puzzle. I laid out the dry outer edge of the rectangular inspection plate gasket. The inside pieces dwarfed the outline, so I pieced the interior puzzle adjacent to it. It was a near perfect match and I was satisfied that we have recovered everything from the rectangular port. Only a nickel-sized strip was missing from the circular gasket. Either we weren’t so careful to toss all the extracted pieces into the bucket, or there’s still a piece of rubber floating somewhere behind a center tank’s baffle, large enough to plug the center tank’s drawtube. Solution? 1) Draw the fuel from the saddle tanks first. 2) Using the fuel polishing system, pull and filter fuel from the center tank into the emptied saddle tank. 3) Should the polisher’s fuel pump get held up by the orphaned piece, or once we get to a calm anchorage in a couple of months, I’ll reach in again and feel around for the rascal. In the meantime, because the saddle tanks sit higher than the engine’s fuel pump, it’s better to draw fuel from them, taking advantage of gravity to feed the engine than to draw from a tank that sits lower than the engine’s fuel pump, making it work harder.
Among the many tasks Deren completed in three days, adding two emergency backstays was one.
And so ends the mystery of Kandu’s fuel problem: time was devoted, knowledge was gained, and only a little money spent—a more-than-fair trade. The next day with Deren was as equally productive as were the first two, eliminating nearly all my hardware tasks. His was a gift well received. For the first time in two and half years, I woke up without a significant to-do list pointed at my head. The Bali-Hai Mai-Tai didn’t hurt either.
Imbibe at our own risk . . . we’d been duly warned!
Note to the reader. This is one of my long, “this is what I learned to today, everything you ever wanted to know about” blog posts. Not everyone’s cup of tea. But if you’re interested in the process of solving a problem on a cruising boat, and in state of the art biochemical technology, then this post is for you.
Diesel fuel ‘legend,’ Tom, prefers not to be photographed.
I woke up with one mission: to develop that day a cost and time effective plan to address our fuel tank problem. In order to develop a plan, I would need information, options. I usually do this by consulting with as many experienced yachtsmen and professionals as possible. From our cockpit I could see thunderclouds and the rain they carried, drifting off San Diego’s southern horizon. After breakfast, my father-in-law, Ron, who was staying at a nearby motel, visiting us, opted to join me in my quest. Together we headed off to one of the west coast’s revered marine chandleries: Downwind Marine.
Having the day before docked Kandu at the prestigious San Diego Yacht Club, we were only blocks away from this venerable vendor. Having previously visited West Marine, the US yachting industries largest (perhaps only) chain marine hardware store, didn’t carry fuel bladders. A fuel bladder is a sturdy bag capable of holding diesel or gasoline. Some boats have them to extend their range of travel (the more fuel, the further your engine can take you), but I wanted to use one to temporarily store the diesel within Kandu’s tanks, allowing me to clean the emptied tank without having to throw the diesel away. I had hoped that this privately owned shop would carry them, and true to their reputation, they did. I wanted a 50-gallon bladder, but the largest he had, held 25 gal. When I saw the price, $440, I realized a bladder was not cost-effective. I described to the clerk my intentions for the bladder. He then recommended a used plastic 55-gal. drum, sometimes free on Craig’s list. A second later, he explained that the fuel may be old and possibly contaminated. He suggested we consider having all 200 gal. of fuel pumped out and dumped by a qualified fuel dock, like Pearson’s down the street, then pump back in fresh diesel. At about $4/gal, $800 and maybe 4 hours to swap fuel, it didn’t seem crazy. I asked about cleaning the tanks. He recommended inquiring with Pearson’s for that as well, and provided directions to two marine diesel mechanic shops in case Pearson’s didn’t offer the service or have a recommendation.
Driving the four blocks down the street to Pearson’s, I was intrigued by this new option. It seemed viable, especially if our fuel were contaminated.
Exiting the car from Pearson’s parking lot, it started to sprinkle, so I pulled out a small black spring-loaded umbrella. Walking through the center opening of the beige and brown A-frame office structure to the fuel docks, I peek into their small offices but didn’t see any managers or clerks, so I continued on down the docks to the fuel pump area. A young attendant was casting off a cruising sailboat, presumably one which he’d topped up with diesel. As he walked back up the ramp I had just descended, I told him briefly about my fuel problem. He pointed to a guy walking from the parking lot to the structure and said; “See that guy in the red hat? His name is Jim. That’s the guy you want to talk to.”
Jim is an old salt: cynical, amused by the experience that others lack, and willing to help plebes like me. I told him my problem, that I had an engine with a fuel problem, about 200 gallons of two-year-old diesel in three tanks, and that I suspected algae had populated my tanks. He said, “A forest, and it’s more like 3 years instead of 2. I’ve been doing this too long. What type of boat?” When I told him a Tayana 42, he winced. I asked him why the look. He explained that Tayana’s have filters at the end of their fuel tank drawtubes, buried inside the tank, an unnecessary and annoying feature. He said that fuel filtering should be left to external fuel filters that can be easily replaced. He suggested I shock the tanks with a special additive engineered to address our problem, and added, “Hopefully you didn’t add BioBor?” “Just yesterday,” I replied. He winced again. “That stuff turns algae into tar, making it really tough to get it out of your tanks. You better talk to Tom. He’ll know best how to solve your problem.”
“Do I need to have my fuel pumped out and polished?”
“Talk to Tom.”
“Do I need to get my tanks opened up and cleaned?”
“Talk to Tom. He’s across the street at the yard, second floor, ‘Oceanview.’ Tom’s the guy . . . be sure to tell him about the BioBor.”
“I’ll tell him you sent me.”
“No need. He knows it’s me.”
I thanked Jim, and in the now pouring rain, searched out his highly recommended diesel fuel tank expert.
Finding Tom’s office wasn’t easy. Eventually we made our way to a boatyard’s receptionist. Wanting Tom’s best advice, I asked if she knew of the ‘legendary’ diesel fuel tank expert named Tom. She smiled and said, “So he’s a legend, is he?” and picked up her phone and dialed. “I’ve got two gentlemen in my office looking for the ‘legendary’ Tom?” The receptionist pulled the phone receiver away from her face and chuckled, “Did you see his name and picture at the Post Office?” She told Tom to come and get us.
Walking into Tom’s cramped office, Tom preceded to give us a thorough education on diesel fuel. It turns out Tom, former Navy, “loves” diesel, owns four diesel vehicles and four diesel vessels. He cleans tanks, polishes fuel, etc. His main business is salvaging boats. But more than anything, he likes solving diesel problems with simple solutions. He explained that we have a bacteria problem, not algae. That the bacteria grow in colonies between the accumulated water and the fuel at the bottom of the tank (water being more dense, sinks in diesel). The water comes from condensation that accumulates at the top of the tank from moist air by way of the tank’s air vent. Topping the tank minimizes this effect, but best practice is to burn through your fuel regularly. That’s why sailboats have problems with their diesel. They store it instead of burning through it like a powerboat does.
Tom explained that although the bacteria are small, about 1 micron, and could easily pass through filters to be burned up in the engine’s combustion process, they are unfortunately wrapped in a slimy coat of sugars that they feed off. This coating allows the colonies to stick together and accumulate on the surface of the tank, which makes them large enough to clog fuel filters. Their waste product (a.k.a. poop) creates a carbon like substance that aggressively adheres to the surface of the tank and offs acetic acid, the by-product that contaminates diesel. “If you don’t smell vinegar, then the fuel is fine. It takes 7-8, more like 10 years before diesel goes bad, so you’re probably fine to keep your diesel.”
Tom pulls open a file-cabinet drawer, reaches in, and lifts out a clear quart-size bottle of golden elixir. “This is what you need. This stuff came on the market only about three years ago. It dissolves the slimy coat that surrounds the bacteria, making them vulnerable. Dead or alive, they now pass through the filters and easily burn up through your engine. The elixir even eats up the by-product, ridding the tank of the hard dark-grey coating.”
“What about the BioBor that I added,” I ask.
“BioBor kills the bacteria, but leaves the dead bacteria and coating debris in the tank to clog fuel filters. This stuff,” holding the bottle up, “eats that dead coating debris too. It just takes longer. In about 4-5 days after a shock dose (2.5 regular doses) of this stuff and mixing it with your fuel polishing system, your tanks should be good to go. Remember to pour directly into your tanks, not the pour spout opening where it could sit in a down-hose bend. This stuff is putting my tank cleaning business out of business, but I have other things I can do that are more fun than cleaning tanks.” He showed us before and after pictures of a 500-gallon tank he cleaned using this product. “When I saw this,” he said, “I knew had to become a distributor.”
I inquired about the buried filter at the end of the drawtube on Tayana’s that Jim previously mentioned. Tom said it’s a two-edge sword. “Yes, it is a weak point, but it prevents larger stuff from getting stuck up and inside the tube, a bigger problem.” He explained that all sorts of stuff find its way into a fuel tank, from silicone remnants to candy wrappers. “You won’t believe what you can find in there,” shaking his head. He suggested getting a small fish net to try and capture whatever may be down there or paddle it up to see what floats up to view, and recommended trying to clean the drawtube filter if we can reach it, not often the case in an older boat.
Tom said one bottle should last me at least three years. Ron said, “We’ll take two,” and plopped down the cash. “My daughter and grandsons are on the boat. This chemical seems hard to get and I don’t want him to have this fuel problem any more.”
Tom reiterated the value of this new product and said before it, there was another product he raved more about: it burns off the carbon that accumulates around the top of the cylinders and injectors. But now he mostly sells this tank cleaning solution (which happens to be three times more expensive than his carbon cleaning solution). I told him that I’d heard that to burn off the excess carbon build up it’s supposedly good practice to run a marine diesel close to its top end, throttling up to its higher range of supported rpms, for the last 5-10 minutes of operation. He agreed and I bought the carbon burning solution as well.
Our lesson from the diesel ‘legend’ came to a close, our plan of attack formulated: add miracle solution to dissolve micro biotic sugars, check the bottom of tank for “God-knows-what-debris,” clean drawtube filters, and burn off the carbon build up.
As Ron and I left Tom’s office with our two bottles of elixir, I picked up and folded my umbrella. The rain had subsided and blue sky peeked out from around the billowy cloud-tops.
“Wasn’t that great?” I asked Ron.
“Unreal,” he said. “You should write what just happened in your blog . . . .”
Eric Rigney
Post Script: By popular (and obvious) demand, here are links and contact info to Tom and the golden elixir: Captain Tom Folkesson of Ocean View Marine(619) 523-4378 and Fuel Right
Yesterday, wiring up for our new SSB/HF radio, I was frustrated. I’m tired of working on Kandu. Sick of it. Mixing metaphors, it’s like sand collapsing around the tunnel I’m trying to dig, covering the light at the tunnel’s end. More money, more mess, more solving a couple potential problems en route to knocking out the current one, and more delays on our departure date. While Leslie and the boys are enjoying a little extra leisure time with the grandparents in Palm Springs, I’m all “asses and elbows” trying to get the wires in for the new radio. Nothing goes as quickly as I think because, like a pregnant lady forgetting how painful the previous delivery was, I forget how long other tasks took. I only recall the high-level overview of the tasks and the feelings of accomplishment that follow it. The forgotten nitty-gritty takes time, more than my memory seems capable of retaining. Instead of three or four days, it takes seven or eight; a very deflating feeling. I sometimes wonder if I’ve enough air left in my ‘optimist’ balloon. Unlike some sailors, I can’t just drill holes and pull the wires through the ceiling, or through two hanging lockers (closets) and several compartments to get them to their intended destination and call it a day. Noooo, . . . instead I have to complicate things and label all the wires in case I have to solve a problem in the future, so as not to forget where each wire goes. I have to make sure the cables are all dressed neatly, even though only I or the next technician or person who owns this boat will ever see it. When selecting and installing a solution, I’m compelled to consider ergonomics, about future expansion, about servicing the units. This all takes time, adding to the installation time and delaying our departure, and yet I won’t do it differently. I believe that the extra effort I’m making now will help me in the future, adding evermore to the “delayed gratification” side of the fun scale equation. I should win a prize for delayed-gratification. But even if I did, it wouldn’t make me happy or less frustrated. I want to play. I want to have untempered fun. But it’s not like I can quit. After all this, could you imagine? I can’t. Not possible. So I keep going. Keep making progress, one small step at a time. Annoyed. Looking for a better day.
And then it happens . . . .
This cold Sunday morning, while finishing up my eggs Benedict and orange juice at the Ventura Yacht Club (my favorite breakfast), a club member introduces himself, says he can’t make my talk on Friday (I offered to give a presentation, describing some of Kandu’s systems. Yacht clubs appreciate this kind of thing, listening to how someone preparing for a circumnavigation solved some of the problems associated with such an undertaking. It’s a way to give back to the sailing community that is so helpful towards its vagabond ilk), but wanted to know about our planned route. Turns out, Dave and his wife, Desiree, are physicians who’d sailed Gone Native with their two young sons around the Med for several years before sailing across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, and eventually transiting the Panama Canal before returning back to Ventura: four and half years. They had a wealth of information about cruising and getting visas, and, as practicing physicians, offered to help us set up our medical kit tomorrow evening, review our medical books, and recommend some apps for our smart phones and tablets. As he spoke, I could actually feel a weight lift from my shoulders, my upper-body tingled with the release of long-held pressure. He said that they would now be our first call (or satellite text) should we ever have a medical issue, and to know that they will pick up. I couldn’t stop smiling. As much as yesterday was a turd of a day, today was turning into a gem. While David spoke to me, Desiree spoke to Leslie and their two sons, Ryan and Wesley, now 18+, spoke to Trent and Bryce. The boys heard first-hand of the young men’s adventures, how they attended a French school, caught lobsters and all kinds of fish, and learned to surf. Trent said, after hearing them speak with such enthusiasm, he thought that this trip might actually be a lot of fun. What a great way to start the day!
Then when I got back to Kandu, I met up with Joe, who was patching up the gelcoat (a thick, paint-like material for fiberglass) on Kandu’s dodger (the windshield enclosure that surrounds the front half of the cockpit). Asking how he patches and paints gelcoat, he kindly gave me a lesson and showed me how, listing all the supplies I’d need and where to buy them. I learned so much, and he was such a great teacher that I feel confident that I will be able to patch up Kandu’s gelcoat when the time arrives, provided of course I buy and stow the supplies before we leave.
Both of these experiences happened before noon today. I am rejuvenated and happy again, so much so that I took the rest of the day off, not wanting to return to the challenge of the wiring job just yet, but choosing instead to savor the feeling of satisfaction and gratitude that filled me. Later this evening, my aunt, Annie, threw us a “Non-Voyage” party, celebrating our eventual departure–just not yet. What a difference a day made, from a ‘two’ to a ‘ten’ in the matter of a few hours. As the early 1970’s kitten poster proclaimed, when at the end of your rope, just “Hang In There, Baby!”
Iconic 1970’s inspirational poster.
Educational Alert; some background about the radio: Among the cruising community, the high-frequency (HF)/single-side band (SSB) radios are often called “HAM” radios after the land-based amateur radio community that supports their use. To use the radio in the HF radio frequency bands, an operator must pass an FCC test to get a license. To use the SSB frequencies, a ship must purchase a license that then resides with the ship–no test. Internationally, this license is required for the commonly used very high frequency (VHF) radios that sailors employ to communicate with port authorities, safety personnel, and other boats within the line of sight. It’s signals don’t travel as far as the HF and SSB frequencies can. I passed the test and also purchased a license for Kandu.
The radio that came with Kandu was a great radio in 1987, the best model available. I thought that it would be fine, until I tried hooking it up to our other modern equipment and learned that this radio would not be supported by the email provider if there was a communication failure. Today’s radios marry with computers; the two talk to each other. For email, the computer can automatically drive the radio to search the various frequencies provided by the software and find the station with the clearest and strongest signal for our given location at that time, and then automatically send and receive the ship’s email. There’s even an “Email” button on the face of the radio. For weather, various weather services broadcast a variety of free weather faxes, each providing a specific type of view, forecast, or analysis for a given region. With newer radios, crew can schedule their laptop to automatically drive the radio, capturing the preferred faxes onto the laptop. With the older radio, the operator must manually tune the radio and antenna to the scheduled frequency. One miss-pushed button or forgotten step, and there are many on the older radio, the signal is rendered inaudible or unusable and the window for capturing that day’s information is lost. The new ones automatically tune the radio and tuner, with better filters and noise reduction, thus increasing the likelihood of receiving the day’s information. And it’s easy to set up the night watch to capture it, just turn on the radio and the computer. The rest is automated. Email and weather data were not available to cruising boats when I last sailed across the Pacific 25 years ago. Today’s blue-water sailors have grown accustomed to these services, which during a long passage are the highlight of the day. I want our adventure to be as pleasant and enjoyable as possible so that the crew (especially mama) will enjoy the experience. Email and weather reports will help this cause. And so, I go through the trouble of upgrading our SSB/HF radio.
Walking down the docks where boats are slipped, be careful not to check yourself against one of the many pointed steel anchors that overhang the bows. It’s easy and painful to do if your not paying attention. If you’re someone like Greg Kutsen, you’re more than paying attention, your noticing how you can improve the design. With over a dozen anchors already on the market, it takes a bold and impassioned person to want to introduce yet another solution to what one would assume is a saturated market, but that’s what Greg did.
Hearing in person Greg describe the thought process behind his designs, you can’t help but admire the solutions he’s developed . . . simple, smart, and artful. After learning about it, I bought and made his anchor Kandu’s primary anchor (she has five different anchors). The first time we dropped (meaning, let the anchor and chain play out to the sea bed when anchoring in a cove) his design, I was amazed, but not surprised by how quickly and securely it grabbed the bottom. The first time we deployed his bridle and chain hook, I was impressed by how quietly we held the hook (sailor slang for “anchor”). Here again, Greg sees things I don’t. Chain hooks have been around for over a hundred years. Tying a single nylon line (rope) to “snub” the chain (providing some elastic shock absorption against pulling too hard the stiff chain against the even stiffer deck hardware) has been around for over 50 years. And employing a chafe guard around the line to protect it against untimely wear and potential severing, especially in heavy weather, has been around longer than chain hooks and nylon snubbers combined. Greg sees a gap and takes it upon himself to design a smarter hook and then places it at the end of a beefy nylon bridle, a double nylon line configuration that centers the boat to the anchor’s pull. At the center of the bridle he includes a hefty thimble and chafing gear arrangement. He also has chafing gear sewn at the two ends of the nylon bridal, protecting them against rubbing at the chocks (cut-aways through which the dock lines and anchor rodes (ropes) pass). There is nothing under-sized about what Greg makes. It’s all big and strong, and surprisingly less expensive than alternatives or a do-it-yourself. But he didn’t stop at anchors, hooks, and bridles. He noticed that boat owners have three or four bronze “keys” dangling in the hanging locker (closet), each designed to open a different type of deck fill cap; lids that cover hoses built into the deck that lead into fuel, water, or holding tanks. Unlike someone who takes for granted “that’s just how it is,” Greg wonders why one key couldn’t service all deck caps. So he designs one and finds a way to include shackle key functions too! Instead of softer bronze, he makes it of harder stainless steel. Now Kandu only has one key (with a looped lanyard at its end to tie around our wrists so as not to lose this useful tool to “Davy Jones’s Locker”). I no longer have to hear the chime of multiple keys clamoring against each other. And I no longer have to untangle key tethers to free the one I want. Greg’s unassuming key, smaller than many of the standard keys it replaces, does it all. When you see it, like the preverbial sliced bread, you wonder why no one had invented it before. When I buy something that Greg made, I feel I’m getting something that embodies his engineering and manufacturing thoughtfulness, and his caring concern for properly servicing the boat owner’s needs. The research and discovery of a clever solution to common cruising problems is inspiring; other examples include Rich and Charlie’s high-volume water makers (read blog post titled RO 101), Marty’s powerful and compact cordless electric winch handle, and Jay and Haoyu’s long-range folding electric stand-up scooter. With our sailing days about to begin, more than the next iPhone, I look forward to seeing the innovations that companies like Greg’s will bring next.
Uncle Bill says, “If you have good ground tackle [aka anchor gear], you don’t need expensive hull insurance.” Knowing Greg, his engaging spirit, and the quality of his creations, I sleep soundly at anchor.
L to R: Eric Rigney, Greg Kutsen, Deneen Taylor, Leslie Rigney
Two days ago, we visited the French Consulate’s office in West Los Angeles/Century City. A month earlier, Leslie, my first French angel (she’s not French but she speaks it and has a degree in French literature), made four appointments, as each person applying required their own time slot, most likely to allow time for the French clerk to review the requested documents. And there were many. The weekend before, while preparing the many documents, Leslie noticed the consulate provided an email address against which we could address any questions prior to our appointed times. We asked about the entry date, wondering whether we could post a date as late as June, and we asked whether all documents needed to be translated into French. I included my cell phone number in the email. Because we were sending the email so close to our date with the Consulate, I didn’t expect a response in time to matter. To my delight, a helpful clerk called me the afternoon before we were to arrive. She stated that French Polynesia and the consulate’s office understood that in the case of a sailboat, it takes greater than the 90 days typically required of applicants, to arrive in the French territory after submitting their visa requests. She also understood that sailboats often like to visit other countries along the way, and gave examples. She asked when I wanted to arrive in French Polynesia. I said June 1, 2015. “That would be fine, no problem,” she replied. I asked whether any of the documents we were providing required a French translation. She replied, no, that the LA Consulate and French Polynesia understood both French and English, and therefore no translation was needed. A huge burden immediately lifted from my shoulders. In my mind, her voice transformed into that of an angel’s.
She also said that the boys would not need identification cards beyond their passports, that their parents’ ID cards would cover them. I informed her that police departments wouldn’t provide clearance letters for the boys. “No problem, we don’t expect them for children,” she said.
“They don’t have their own financial statements either, just copies of ours,” I declared. She said that was fine too. I said that we’re providing a financial summary of our investment portfolio, indicating the value of our trust, instead of the bank statements requested on their website. She said that we must provide copies of our bank statements, that investment summaries could be included, but that French Polynesia wants to see bank statements. She then asked if we had the other documentation, going down the list of what was required. She said that with the boat’s documentation, we wouldn’t need to provide the original, as she understood it was legally required to remain with the boat. She asked about the medical insurance and had me read some of the information to her, after which she said that upon arrival in French Polynesia, if our visas were approved, we’d likely be required to show coverage over the entire one-year period we expected to be there. She was extremely helpful, and even though it meant even more printing and photocopying work for Leslie, the Consulate official gave us the information we needed to succeed in our endeavor to acquire a long-stay visa. I was so grateful. As tears of frustration welled in Leslie’s eyes, I pointed out the bright side: we know what is missing and still have the time needed to get the necessary documentation in order, that no translations were needed, and that we had the time we needed to sail to French Polynesia. We could now visit Easter Island, Leslie’s most anticipated destination of the whole trip, and spend more time in Mexico and Galapagos. This was for me a huge relief. Leslie was concerned that the significant sums of money spent on the boat these last months depleted our bank accounts, showing meager balances. We both had heard about a boat that was recently rejected for insufficient funds. We could only hope that the cruising nest egg that was our trust would be enough to convince them of our financial solvency, and that the officials on the other side would understand that that’s where we kept our funds and not in our bank accounts. Leslie went back to the task at hand, getting everything ready for the next day, spending the next three hours printing the additional documents and later, copying at FedEx.
The family awoke before dawn the next morning to drive down the picturesque Pacific Coast Highway to the French Consulate’s office in Los Angeles, the city of angels. We arrived minutes before our scheduled appointments. Because we’d been there eighteen months before, we knew that the visa office was outside, around the corner and not on the 6th floor where the main offices are located. After standing outside for a couple minutes, we were buzzed in by the security guard. With a look of suspicion, he confirmed our appointments and identities, asking that all electronic devices be shut off before allowing us to enter further.
As we entered, the clerk behind the protective glass asked to see us together. She looked at me and said that she had been the one who had spoken to me the day before. My second angel had a friendly face and an easy smile, and a great French accent. One by one, she requested documents as Leslie dutifully shuffled through her four folders, one for each crewmember, retrieving and furnishing the requested articles. After reviewing the documents, depending on the type, the angel would give us either the original or the copy to keep. Leslie had everything our angel asked of us. When it came time to hand over the financial documents, Leslie explained to the angel about the financial trust. Good thing too, because the angel had seen only the retirement accounts. After Leslie’s explanation, the angel nodded approvingly. After electronically capturing each crewmember’s fingerprints and mug shot, she told us the visa response would likely be provided to us in 4 weeks. Instead of mailing back and forth, they now scan the documents and email them back and forth. The website had stated 6-8 weeks and Leslie and I added another week atop that to allow for the holidays. The four-week timeframe meant we’d have even more time to visit other countries before arriving in French Polynesia. I was elated. For the first time in many months, instead of new problems popping up, events were seemingly working in our favor. We handed the angel the pre-paid, self-addressed FedEx box Leslie had prepared for our passports and other official documents to be shipped back to us, hopefully with visas affixed. She provided Leslie receipts for our passports, in case they didn’t arrive. And we were done. With a sweet “au revoir” from our angel, we passed by the now smiling security guard, leaving the visa offices toward the underground parking garage, the happiest six-bucks I’d spent in a long time.
Crew of Kandu celebrate on Rodeo Drive a successful day.
Excited and optimistic for our chances, I wanted to celebrate. Leslie had worked so hard to prepare all the documents; I thought she could use a special treat. Close to Beverly Hills, keeping it French, I suggested the Patisserie Artistique in the Rodeo Collection on Rodeo Drive. Thirty years early, I had worked as a captain* in what was the penthouse restaurant of the Rodeo Collection, Excelsior. The restaurant long since retired, the space was used for other business needs. At the pastry shop, Bryce chose a small white chocolate cake, intricately fashioned into a present with an edible colored bow and all. It resembled a decorated ring box. Trent selected a small circular pecan tart coated with caramel made on premises. Leslie picked a piece of sliced-pear tart with almond filling and a cup of French-roast coffee, in honor of our excellent French Consulate experience. It was a good day, filled with much promise.
* Footnote:*Wait staff in a traditional fine European dining room in the ’80’s, comprised typically of men, included a busboy, back-waiter, front-waiter, captain, and maître d’. I started at Excelsior as an evening elevator attendant, then worked my way up (pardon the pun) through the ranks, from busboy to captain. American-born captains were rare in Beverly Hills; a young one, even more so.
Learning that reverse osmosis (RO) systems require a regular “feeding,” every three to five days, whereby freshwater must either be made or flushed through the system, we would wait nearly a year after installing it before we would commission the unit into service.
Read the blog post titled, RO 101 and see the video to learn more about the RO process itself.
Cruise RO Water and Power, the purveyor of the RO system we selected for Kandu, is owned and operated by dollar-conscious, easily accessible cruisers. They’ve assembled their robust AC solution using off-the-shelf parts and supplies, not the more expensive (either way, it’s expensive) proprietary solutions common within the marine desalinator marketplace. If the cruiser includes the cost of a new gas-powered Honda generator, with the SM-30 model, she winds up with a Cruise RO system that has built-in redundancy and makes four times as much water for the same price as more popular options–30 gallons an hour, “Beast!” as thirteen-year-old Bryce is fond of saying. Cruise RO achieves this by configuring dual 40″ long membrane filters, a size much bigger than the typical compact stand-alone units offer. If one membrane fails, the operator can by-pass it and still get 20 gal/hr from the remaining membrane. For boats lacking space, and they all do, this may not be an option. But for those that do, a full tank of gas (0.95 gal) in a Honda EU2000i is suppose to produce about 150 gal. of water: a fair trade we feel for stinking up the environment. Additionally, Rich and Charlie of Cruise RO, the guys who run it, speak in laymen terms, a service I very much depended on to install and commission our unit.
To commission the unit, I wondered about the quality of seawater I could safely process. I considered anchoring off Santa Cruz Island where the seawater is much cleaner than in the marina where Kandu is moored. Oil can ruin an RO membrane and I would occasionally notice the sheen of oil in the marina’s surface. After discussing my concerns with Rich and with other cruisers with extensive marine RO water-making experience, I was assured that the marina’s water would not be a problem. They had all successfully made water under far worse conditions, explaining that because oil floats and Kandu’s seawater is drawn several feet below the surface, I wouldn’t have a problem–“It is what it’s for,” was the expression I heard time and again.
The commissioning process is clearly laid out in the user manual with color pictures and all. Even though it’s simple, I was nervous. I didn’t want to make a misstep that would cost a lot of time and money to rectify. Plus with all the first-time noises, it was a little nerve-racking. So after reading and re-reading the commissioning process (as technician in the post production world from where I came, I learned early on that the difference between a technician and an end-user is that the technician read the user manual), I called Rich to make sure he’d be available in case I needed his help. With him at the ready, I proceeded with the commissioning process. Under the din of noise generated by the two pumps and the excess brine water pouring into the cockpit drain, I checked all the plumbing and electrical, all the pumps, all the filters, opened and closed the necessary valves, bled the air out of the system, pressed on and off the pumps’ power switches, and carefully turned up the high-pressure knob as bubbles percolated for the first time within the flow meter. I felt every bit like Dr. Frankenstein, bringing my monster to life.
Once commissioned and with Rich’s phoned thumbs-up, I was ready to make water.
Here’s a video of my first water-making experience:
As the first trickles of water poured from the sample spigot and into the sink, I got excited. Using the total dissolved solids (TDS) meter provided, I collected in a clear plastic cup some of the “product” water to measure the parts per million (ppm) of salt and solids in solution. The water coming from the desalinator started off salty but soon came fresh. Less than 500 ppm is considered acceptable quality drinking water, less than 300 ppm is considered normal tap water, and less then 100 is considered soft. When the meter reads <500, you’re suppose to switch the water over to the boat’s tanks as it won’t be long before it’s producing water <300ppm. But being that it was the first time making water, I wanted to taste it. In no time, the meter read 114, so I tossed it and eagerly poured more of the clear manmade life-sustaining nectar into the cup . . . and cautiously tasted it. “Wow,” it was hands down the best tasting water I’d ever had. Like Tom Hanks in “Cast-away” after making fire for the first time, I thumped my chest, proclaiming, “I MADE water! I made that!” It felt especially apropos considering I’m an Aquarian, a water bearer bearing water. “I, Aquarian skipper of Kandu, bring you water!” It wasn’t long before I was able to pour a taste for Leslie and the boys. All gave a thumbs-up. Making water for the first time, although nerve racking at first, ended up very gratifying.
Thanks again to Rich and Charlie of Cruise RO Water and Power.
Rich Boren of Cruise RO Water and Power describes for us the reverse osmosis process, pointing out a system similar to that which we installed on Kandu:
RO 101, an end-user’s perspective:
Disclaimer: The detailed description and observations presented below make the operation sound more complicated than the practice. Because the system is preconfigured and tested, the hard part is done. Once properly set up, making water is simple. AC power supplied, it only takes two to three minutes from start before fresh water is pouring into your tanks. The freshwater rinse process following water making takes about 5-7 minutes from start to finish. I’m fascinated by the engineering art that occurs behind the scene and like to share my understanding (albeit, likely flawed). All in all, based on our current water consumption rate, we can make all the water we use in a week in about three and half hours. While docked, we’ve been using about 100 gallons a week, but that excludes the showers we take and the laundry we do on land. Don’t yet know what our consumption rates will be once untethered to land. So, back to this layman’s behind-the-scenes understanding of water making . . . .
The reverse osmosis (RO) process starts with raw seawater and ends with fresh safe drinking water. To begin with, the seawater sourced must be oil-free as oil will destroy the membrane, the core of any RO solution. Fortunately oil floats. Seawater extracted feet below the waterline (the further the better) will be oil-free. To get the oil-free seawater up and into the RO system, usually requires a water pump, called a “boost pump.” Inside the boat’s pump locker, Kandu hasa slightly noisy 12-volt low-pressure water pump for the job. They’re all a little noisy. It pulls seawater from outside the boat through a through-hull. Any hole, intentionally, installed in the side of a boat is called a through-hull. The intake for the RO unit on Kandu is shared with the engine’s raw water intake (raw is another way of describing unfiltered seawater that comes from outside the hull). Our engine’s raw water through-hull is located three feet below the surface, well below floating oils. Before it can be pressed into freshwater, the seawater must have all debris and nearly all marine-life removed. So with help from the boost pump, the seawater passes first through a large bronze screen plumbed just behind and below Kandu’s diesel engine, keeping the big stuff out. Via hoses, the seawater is then lifted up and through two sediment filters, cylindrical cartridges of folded paper, one finer than the other. The first and more coarse of the two, filters up to 20 microns. A micron is one-thousandths of a millimeter or 0.000039 of an inch. To give some perspective, a human hair is around 90 microns. The diameter of wool fiber used for making garments is less than 25 microns. So 20 microns is small, keeping out most particles and plankton. The next and finer of the two paper filters sifts out up to 5 microns, the size of a human blood cell, knocking out most of the remaining sediments and plankton, but not all bacteria. They get filtered out in the next phase.
The components of our Cruise RO SM-30 water maker (photo by Cruise RO Water and Power).
After the filters, the boost pump pushes the thrice filtered seawater to the noisier high-pressure (HP) AC electric water pump (Kandu uses AC, many boats use DC electric pumps). Using back-pressure, this power-hungry device, drawing about 8 to 10 amps (equivalent to a toaster*), forces seawater through the membrane at about 800 psi (that’s equivalent to the force of an adult male sea lion doing a one-finger (or flipper) pirouette on a light switch!**). When making water, the operator must first start the HP pump at its lowest pressure setting, waiting first for the boost pump to provide an adequate volume of seawater. Once that is achieved, the operator adjusts the back-pressure (preventing the water from leaving the membrane cylinders) created against the force of the HP pump. This is done by turning a knob, watching the pressure dial meter carefully, and adjusting to keep the pressure at a steady 800 psi. At such great force, over-pressurizing the system could cause great damage to the components or the locker compartment where it’s installed. The membrane is housed in a white plastic canister, capable of withstanding pressures of over 1000 psi. Inside the canister, the membrane itself comes incased in an unpainted cylindrical fiberglass shell. At its center extends is a dime-sized tube. Inside the shell, the membrane skin wraps around this center tube. Between the fiberglass shell and the center tube is the space where the filtered water is pumped into the membrane’s container; seawater enters through eight circular openings that encircle both ends. By restricting the exit flow at the outer edges of the canister, the pressurized water seeks a place to go. At 800 psi, the osmotic pressure of seawater, about 20% of the seawater finds its way through the membrane filter and into the center channel tube. Squeezing through the membrane, the filtered seawater is thus converted to bacteria-free “product,” otherwise known as fresh tasting drinking water. The rest of the unprocessed water, called “brine,” gets evacuated and directed back to sea. On Kandu, the brine is directed from the RO membrane canister to Kandu’s starboard cockpit drain, where we hear it spit and pour as some of the brine sprays out and onto the cockpit sole (floor). Kandu’s RO system control panel has a flow meter that measure the output rate of the product water in gallons per minute (gpm). Filled with a yellow liquid, the meter percolates like a chemistry instrument, lifting a small flying-saucer type disk along a vertical wire. Etched in the glass tube are marked the various flow rates, the smaller at the bottom; the greater, above. At 0.5 gpm, the rated output of our model, we produce about 30 gal./hr; an enviable quantity of water for most any sailboat.
Just as with the back-pressure of the filtered seawater, the unrestricted flow of product water is equally important to configure. With all that pressurized water looking for a place to go, the product water flow must never be blocked, or risk over-pressuring the system. To direct its flow unfettered, only constant flow valves are installed along the product water’s exit path. With these valves, no matter which way you set the valve handle, you can’t shut it off: the water goes one way, the other, or both, but never stopped.
Once pressurized past 600 psi, the boosted, filtered seawater begins to push readily through the system’s RO membrane and out the “sample” spout, located on Kandu at the galley sink where it drains to the sea. The system is easily brought up to the model’s preferred 800 psi. The initial water coming from the membrane is a little salty, but quickly freshens up. Before directing the product water into the ship’s tanks, the water is sampled, or tested, with a digital total dissolved solids (TDS) meter, mostly salt (NaCl). Power it up, drop the bottom end of the meter about 1/2″ into a small sample of the water and the meter provides an instant reading. Once the produced water measures less than 500 ppm, the minimum allowed by the EPA (other countries accept higher salt levels), the water is sent to the tanks by turning two valve sets: one re-directs the water from the sample waterspout to the second valve, which in turn is set to direct the flow to whichever tank the operator wishes to receive the freshly made water, either port or starboard. As product water continues to flow, the TDS reading quickly drops to below 150 ppm, the soft water range.
The system runs for whatever time the operator feels necessary. Between the generator and the pumps, the operation is noisy enough that it should only be performed when neighbors would typically be awake.
Shutting down the system occurs in two phases: the saltwater stop and the freshwater rinse. Before shutting down the system while seawater is still being processed through it, the product water is redirected to the sink and the HP pump dialed down to the lowest pressure possible. Then the high-pressure pump is shut off, followed by shutting off the low-pressure boost pump. The seawater intake valves are turned off and re-configured for the freshwater rinse. At this point, the two paper saltwater sediment filters and RO membrane are saturated in seawater, with all its lovely marine life. Saltwater doesn’t harm the filters or the membrane. It’s the marine life that does. Left un-rinsed, the microscopic organisms will eventually die and be consumed by anaerobic marine bacteria that will off hydrogen-sulfide (H2S) gas, a corrosive environment for RO elements, producing water that tastes like rotten eggs. To prevent this unpleasant biological reaction, freshwater from the ship’s tanks is redirected into the system to flush its components. Because chlorine is destructive to the RO membrane, an active carbon filter is installed in-between the freshwater tanks and the RO’s boost pump, ensuring that no residual chlorine that may have been added to the tanks by the cruiser to kill algae or bacteria growth (which occur naturally in stored freshwater) comes in contact with the membrane. So as part of the RO systems maintenance, it’s important to remember to change the carbon filter at least every 6 months. Just as with the pulling/pushing of seawater into the RO system, so too does the operator engage the pumps to pull/push freshwater. The RO system’s internal intake valve is turned away from the seawater intake and toward the freshwater intake. With the HP pump off and at its lowest pressure setting, with the product water directed to pour into the sink through the sample spout, the boost pump is again engaged. Again, once it’s flowing to where the operator hears a steady flow of waste/brine water, the HP pump is activated with the pressure setting still at its lowest setting. Freshwater pushed through the membrane at high pressure would damage the membrane so the HP remains at its lowest setting throughout the freshwater rinse. After pulling/pushing freshwater for about 3-5 minutes, the saltwater around the paper filters and RO membrane has been replaced by fresh and the system can be shut down: first turning off the HP pump, then the low pressure boost pump. The intake valve is shut off. The rinse stage complete.
In the above state, the system can be left idle for 3-7 days (the greater the marine life, the earlier the interval) before it must either be put into service to make water and rinsed again, or can just simply be rinsed again with freshwater, without making water. If for whatever reason a cruiser will not be engaging the RO system for an extended period of time, she can saturate the components in a food-grade antiseptic by employing a process called “pickling.” Pickled, the unit can be held in stasis for six months or more before it should be re-picked or brought back into service. A properly maintained membrane can last as long as 10 years before the product water begins to taste not-so fresh. The paper sediment filters are changed regularly too. In addition to the footprint an RO system occupies, supporting a water maker also requires stowage space for the three types of water filters, pickling power, and crank case oil. Even though RO water is free of bacteria, without a disinfectant in the water storage tanks, algae and bacteria can grow. For this reason, it’s prudent to introduce a product like bleach (1 tsp per 10 gallons) into the tanks, and then filter out the chlorine taste by passing the sanitized water through a carbon filter before drinking. Ultra-violet therapies are also available. On Kandu, our carbon filter has also a KDF*** element to remove heavy metals and kill bacteria. Between the financial costs, the 3-7 day interval, the stowage burden, and the noise factor, watermaking is not every cruiser’s cup of tea.
For those willing to accept the burdens that come with the freedom of converting engine time into safe drinking water, several makes and models of RO watermakers exist, in both DC or AC versions. Whether DC or AC, electric motors that pressurize seawater consume a lot of electricity To protect the boat’s house batteries from being drawn down too quickly, when making water, sailors support the electrical demand by either run the boat’s engine, an electric generator, or are connected to shore power. In essence, desalinators convert a petroleum fuel (gasoline or diesel) into freshwater. For the freshwater rinse, a cruiser with large batteries supported by passive charging sources such as solar panels and wind generators, may be able to get by without having to start an engine. The units typically found on a cruising boat Kandu’s size use DC electricity. They employ specially designed, expensive proprietary components, and produce around 6-8 gallons of water an hour. They cost about $5k-$6k. Some units are more automated and quieter than others. For Kandu, we went with the SM-30 by Cruise RO Water and Power, a non-propertary dual membrane AC model that efficiently outputs an impressive 30 gallons an hour. As I understand it, just idling or running free (not under the load of a spinning propeller) a diesel engine, it doesn’t get hot enough to burn off the carbon that otherwise builds up inside its cylinders and injectors, gumming them it up. So, to prevent possible problems with our boat’s auxiliary (another name for a boat’s internal engine), we felt it wise to buy a Honda generator to support the electrical needs of the HP pump’s AC motor when making water. For the freshwater rinse, we’re hoping our large battery banks and passive energy generation will support the occasional rinse cycle. The cost including the generator was just north of $6k. We’re excited and pleased to have it. Leslie set our smart phones to remind us to run the unit every three days (it just went off as I wrote this) The freshwater rinse process takes less than 10 minutes to complete. Overall, so far, and it’s early yet, the watermarking and rinsing processes have been painless, and in an odd way, rewarding and liberating.
Footnotes:
* 10 amps at 120VAC is equivalent to 100 amps at 12VDC. Batteries should not be drawn down below half their capacity. At 900 amp/hrs. total, Kandu has an available draw of 450 amp/hrs. Were we to run the water maker strictly off our batteries, we would in 4.5 hours deplete our “house” batteries (the term used to describe a boat’s main battery bank, supporting all but the engine’s starter) to a level that would normally take 5 days, a rate faster than the house batteries are designed to support.
** While researching 800 lbs animals, I learned that the testicle of a right whale weighs 1100lbs!
*** “Kinetic Degradation Fluxion (KDF) is a high-purity copper-zinc formulation that uses a basic chemical process known as redox (oxidation/reduction) to remove chlorine, lead, mercury, iron, and hydrogen sulfide from water supplies. The process also has a mild anti-bacterial, algaecidic, and fungicidic effect and may reduce the accumulation of lime scale.” –-Home Plus Water
