Last time we were here was September 2019, during Hurricane Dorian. It rained last night, heavily, but without much wind. Lene, who sleeps under the large top-opening hatch, get her blanket a bit damp before I caught on and closed the hatch securely. But the bad news is that my latest effort to stop the mast boot leak, like it’s predecessors, has failed. Water dripping profusely down the mast. I set bowls on the table and the cabin sole to catch the majority, with the rest making its way into the bilge. When it dries up I will try again.
Morning chores: The square of blue canvas that closes the mainsail’s stack pack had its zipper jammed, with the talon in the middle and both ends open. I patiently, one at a time, with pliers pushing the sides together, got it off. Doyle will fix it this winter. The rain plus a scrub brush got most of the rest of the Milford birds’ poop of the canvas. More rain tonight and tomorrow, will let me finish that task. I wrote to the Huguenot, sending in our check for winter storage— but forgot to mail it!!!
But the most rewarding task was a long conversation with Joel, a tech at Raymarine. I sought guidance on restoring the vim and vigor of ILENE’s autopilot. When I described its symptoms Joel told me that three of its components (it has a lot of components) were suspect. The system was installed in 1999 and has given yeoman service during years of long mileage use, until weakening now; it owes me nothing. Raymarine now sells new autopilots that are five generations more advanced. But Joel gave me the names of two firms, both in Florida, who can test the components, decide which (or both of the computer unit and the control unit) is defective and probably not repair it but sell me a replacement, either new or refurbished with a one year warranty. The third suspect component, the drive motor, if I can get it out, will be bench tested by Bronx Ignition. So chores to keep me from getting bored this winter.
ILENE is in this photo with dark furled headsails, behind another boat in the mostly empty mooring field, center right.
After lunch, a walk into town, a mile and a half away with a stop at the island’s only food market. But Lene’s sneaker started to raise a blister so big bandaids we’re added to the shopping list which solved the problem. We had our first disappointment due to it being post-season here; in season Aldo drives a boat among all the many moored boat yelling “Andiamo!!!” (accent on the last syllable) and selling fresh baked goods, especially the sweet Portuguese bread so excellent for French toast. Not enough boats here for that delivery service but we expected to be able to buy the bread at his bakery in town. No such luck.
Main Street:
The ferry across. the street with Ballard’s huge red roofed restaurant to the right:
It was foggy, the seawall barely visible:
Dinner was at Eli’s, a small 12 table restaurant named after its former owner’s dog. They open at six and take no reservations so folks line up outside, before six. We enjoyed fine dining — food and service — in pleasant low key ambience, e.g., no table cloths. I offered Lene a cab ride back to the dinghy dock but fortified by her bandaid we walked. And the fog banks created eerie optics on the way back.
A dry night. I removed the fuse to the bilge pump, shutting down its noisy test for water every two minutes. And in the morning, no increase in the level of water in the bilge.
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