The Saga Continues…

In the sailing community there are various ‘tongue and cheek’ phrases used to describe the offshore cruising lifestyle. One of the most common is “Boat Repairs in Exotic Locations”.

And there is a healthy dollop of truth in that wisecrack. Boats are complex, and things are always wearing out or breaking down. Indeed, when sailors meet one of the first topics of conversation is boat repairs. Everyone has a lengthy project list, and plenty of stories.

Being in exotic or remote locations adds another twist. Let’s just say; if you aren’t the MacGyver type, you’re in big trouble.

Sharon’s last post mentioned that we’d lost one of the engines. Specifically, the heat exchanger on the port side had failed.  

As the name implies, the heat exchanger removes excess heat and keeps the engine running at the correct operating temperature. The boat’s heat exchanger, like a car’s radiator, performs this thermal transference trickery by pumping hot coolant through dozens of tiny little tubes. But instead of being air-cooled, the excess heat is removed by sea water. It’s a virtuous cycle – hot coolant and cold sea water enter one end of the heat exchanger, and out other end comes relatively cool coolant and scalding hot sea water.

In the case of our port engine, some kind of breach had evidently developed, allowing the coolant and saltwater to mix. The mixture was then being pumped overboard. Not good.

Without cool coolant the port engine had overheated, triggering an alarm. If an overheating engine isn’t immediately shut-down all kinds of bad things happen – culminating in catastrophic failure. So, the stakes are high.

The failure occurred just two days before Sarah’s arrival for a two-week visit. To meet her, we’d made arrangements for a dock at a marina in Tahiti’s capital of Papeette.  

Getting docked with one engine would be a bit of a nail-biter. But with the help of Bob and Bev on Icaros everything went smoothly.

The marina is right in the heart of the city, fronting onto a boardwalk and the main drag. A lively spot to be sure. Quite a contrast to the more remote spots where we’ve been spending our time of late. But conveniently located near the main market, shops, restaurants, and most importantlu, the airport and places that sell boat parts.

Safely docked, we quickly turned our attention to figuring out why the port engine’s heat exchanger had failed. As Sharon’s post indicated, getting a new one would take months. However, some of the internal parts were available.

Plan B involved taking the heat exchanger apart to determine what went wrong, and whether it could be fixed. One of the experts in California suggested one of the O-rings, which create a seal between the salt water and the coolant, may have failed.

Out came the tools, and pretty soon various hoses were removed and the heat exchanger was all apart. The main gasket was destroyed in the process. But the O-rings looked fine.

Then I spotted something that made my heart sink. A hole in the heat exchanger’s housing. The aluminum casting had been eaten away by corrosion, and a pool of green coolant was seeping out.  A poke with a screwdriver confirmed my worst fears. 

Unfortunately, Volvo doesn’t sell the housing separately.

Now what?

The emotional roller-coaster kicked into high gear, replete with the classic stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression…

Then, the ever-resourceful Sharon came across a post on the Tahiti Cruiser’s Guide about a chap named Norbert who might be able to fix holes in cast aluminum by welding a patch.

It took some doing, but we tracked down Norbert. His shop is in a dark and greasy steel shed tucked away behind a lumber yard in what might, charitably, be described as ‘an industrial section of town’. Norbert turned out to be quite the charmer – a quirky little chain-smoking man from France, with a twinkle in his eye, and as we came to appreciate, a heart of gold.  

He wasn’t fazed when I handed him the heat exchanger housing with the ugly looking hole. After poking at the area of corrosion, and with the customary cautions, he indicated it could probably be fixed. We couldn’t pin him down on how long it would take or a price. His only comment was <ça ne fera pas casser la banque>. 

While waiting for Norbert to work his magic, and wanting to make the most of Sarah’s visit, we rented a car and set off to explore Tahiti by road. We also spent a day at the impressive the Museum of Tahiti and the Islands.

When we returned to Norbert’s shop three days later, Norbert was doing some final milling on the repaired housing. Apparently, he’d found much more corrosion once he began grinding back the hole.  And, because the hole was inside the housing, the welding was quite time consuming (and no doubt required a very skilled hand).

Clearly pleased with himself, Norbert, and his assistant, regaled us with a steady stream of self-deprecating jokes, and gentle pokes at one another. Mostly in French, with a smattering of English words that Norbert said he learned from watching, of all things, Benny Hill.

We were overjoyed at the result. To my eye, the repaired part looked like it would last for many years. And, true to his word, Norbert’s fee – $300 – certainly didn’t break the bank.

The Volvo distributor didn’t have the gaskets or anything else we needed, aside from a can of over-priced Volvo-green spray paint. But they were super helpful and generous with advice – advice about gasket material to make new gaskets, how to install the gaskets, torque settings for re-assembly. We found the recommended gasket paper and sealing paste at two other shops. And finally we had all we needed to get back in business. I set to work tapping-out and cutting a reasonable facsimile of the missing gasket.

With the repaired part installed, all the pieces, hopefully, back in place, and new coolant added, the time had come to start up the port engine, and put Norbert’s handiwork, and my dubious wrenching skills, to the test.

It fired up right away, and ran smoothly. No leaks visible in the engine room. Good.  

But when I looked over the side at the out flowing water, it was green, not clear. Damn! All that work wasted. Dejected, I shut down the port engine.

Then a thought occurred; maybe the green I saw is just the residual stuff that had been sitting in the exhaust system. Oscillating between renewed optimism and lingering unease, I topped up the coolant, and pushed the start button. This time, the out flow was clear sea water. What a relief!

Yesterday, after giving Turtlebones a quick scrub, we untied the lines and motored out of the marina.  It’s a short 10 miles sail across to Moorea. We arrived just before dusk. Sharon, Sarah and I all jumped overboard as soon as the anchor was set, and swam until dark.

Such a pleasure to be away from the city again with all systems working – touch wood.