Olympics, and why I don't like them.

This guy hits the nail right on the head:



So I spent a number of hours today installing the 12 V electric fuel pump. I'm not as happy as I might be because the fuel lines are a real rat's nest with two filters going into one line and a take-off for the vacuum gauge, but not much I can do about it.
The pump is a little noisy, not that you can hear it over the diesel.

It comes with an inline filter, which obviously isn't needed but it's also the inlet fitting. I installed it on the starboard bulkhead and when I tried to replace the companionway steps, I discovered it was in the way and had to move it back another couple of inches.


As this boat doesn't use a keyed ignition, I installed a toggle switch for the fuel pump at the helm. Another way of shutting off the engine in case of emergencies.


All the crap required for even a simple job like wiring an eletric pump. I also had to empty everything out of the lazarette and take apart the quarter berth.




And look what I found in the aft bilge when I was working under the helm: I wondered where it had gotten to...




Tracy helping me replace the genoa with the storm jib. I'm looking for a another genoa with a luff of about 46 feet, a foot of about 21 feet, and with luff tape instead of hanks. There are a lot of used hank-on genoas out there but it costs about 500 clams to convert, which probably isn't worth it for a used sail.


I was gonna do a lot of philosophical musings today, but I'm bushed or discouraged or something. Try again tomorrow.

 

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