Well my “shake down” live aboard experience continues to uncover additional maintenance issues, and the one today was a bit scarier and more serious. Today is Sunday so I was enjoying a day spent completely on board with no trips into town or school for a change, and I had decided to reheat some leftover conch samosas to go with my salad.
As usual, I opened the door to our 2-burner propane stove in our galley and struck a match to light the grid for the oven. After putting everything in the oven I went up top to enjoy the sun and light breeze we had today and read in the shade under our bimini while waiting for lunch to reheat. After about 5 minutes I started to smell something burning, and I came down the companionway steps to see 4-inch flames coming from behind the galley stove. Yikes.Fire is never a good thing unless it’s in a fireplace or campfire, but on a boat it’s especially dangerous because your options are limited if you can’t put it out right away. After all, you have no place to go except into the water. Speed is of the essence and fortunately the flames had not yet caught anything else on fire, they were simply sliding up from the back of the stove from some unknown location. I quickly moved to the sink and turned off the propane safety switch under the counter, which thankfully put out the flames immediately. I examined the stove but was unable to determine the source of the flames, but it appeared likely they were coming from one of the support pipes inside the stove or under the
burners. Just to be safe, I then went up top and raised the port lazarette where the propane tanks are stored (we currently have two), and I pulled off the tank cover and turned off the propane supply at the base of the tank. Guess I won’t be using the oven or stove until I can get someone to take a look at it because I’m not going to poke around with something potentially explosive. Since I’ll be having cold meals for the foreseeable future, it’s really fortuitous that I just made a large batch of pasta salad!Our small Force 10, two-burner stove is shown here on the port side near porthole.
Late in the day I spent some time on daily housekeeping chores. I hand washed some laundry in the sink, but unfortunately I sprinkled too much powdered detergent in there and that required me to use more fresh water than I would have liked when I hand rinsed everything. After a couple of tries everything was finally rinsed and I used clothes pins to hang it on the lifelines to dry in the sunny breeze. The breeze was strong enough to whip the clothes around which sometimes causes things to fly off the line and right into the saltwater which of course means I start the process all over again. Everything rusts in this climate so most of our clothes pin are plastic – I’ve learned not to use the metal ones because the next thing you know you have these unsightly reddish stains on your clothes.
Elegant crewed yacht which was anchored to port for a few days.
As I was reading up top I watched two guys swimming unobtrusively around the harbor and surrounding boats, their movements so quiet and smooth they reminded me of sea otters gliding silently through the water. Both were wearing wetsuits and each was trailing a float about 10-15 feet behind them as they swam and snorkeled quietly through the azure water. They didn’t appear to be casual swimmers so I think they were perhaps scavenging or searching for something or other. Occasionally I’d see them dive to the depths 20 feet below by simply bending at the waist and lifting their legs and fins straight up in the air. They did it with such finesse and grace it barely rippled the water, seemingly with as little effort as I might sit down in a chair. It’s rare to see people with the ability to imitate sea life with such grace.
As the daylight hours came to a close around 6pm, I enjoyed the sights and sounds of sunset in Bequia harbor. I watched the two-man crew of a sleek, white 60-foot yawl which hails out of New York taking down the large US flag and folding it away carefully. Then the gentleman anchored aft in Mal de Mer (“sea sick” in French) walked out to his bow and softly tooted a conch shell – his nightly ritual to grace the departure of the sun for another day. I can see the splash-splash of the spray from the stern of nearby boats as they run their engines to recharge house
batteries and refrigeration systems for the night. Later I hear the long blast of the horn announcing the imminent departure of the last ferry of the day. Local boat vendor “African” whizzes buy in his large yellow outboard equipped today with full green bimini, as he heads into town to pick up someone and return them to their boat after a day at shore. As darkness arrives, the anchorage grows peaceful and quiet, and the stars begin to appear in the clear skies above. It looks to be another beautiful night in Bequia.Another stunning sunset in Admiralty Harbor, Bequia.
No comments:
Post a Comment