Loose Moorings: Liveaboard Life in Victoria Harbour
victoria.liveaboard@gmail.com
Nathaniel Poole and Tracy Koebel
in the summer of 2007 we kicked out the kids, sold the house, bought the boat - a cs36t - and moved from the dull confines of the fraser valley to Victoria's inner harbour. i like to think of myself as a full-time writer although living aboard seems like a full time occupation in itself. tracy works with the elderly as a social worker in one of the city's many retirement homes. this is our first major life experiment since having our two kids all those years ago.
Loaded Web
Loose Moorings
Waves Increasing Off the Coast
Interesting news. Not sure if they are talking wind waves or swells (which are quite different, of course). I suppose the positive is that we are more equipped than ever to predict storms and the waves that they bring. Anything can happen anywhere but as a matter of odds, if you get into trouble you probably missed something somewhere.
Like this summer. I'm writing an article for a sailing magazine and I've been talking to SAR professionals. What we did wrong in losing a member of our party and having to call the coast guard is that we neglected to establish firm protocols and contact information. we didn't even have the skipper's last name! that includes more than just cell phone numbers, but emergency contact numbers as well.
We ran into trouble because we made mistakes.
Mistakes will never end of course. Look what happened to the Queen of the North, and those were professionals. Exxon Valdez, etc. etc.
Anecdotal evidence suggest to me that when private vessels are concerned, lack of knowledge and experience is often at fault; with professionals it seems more emotional/mental health problems including substance abuse.
I want to go sailing! today is nice, but my boat is still occupied and it looks like rain for the next several days.
Like this summer. I'm writing an article for a sailing magazine and I've been talking to SAR professionals. What we did wrong in losing a member of our party and having to call the coast guard is that we neglected to establish firm protocols and contact information. we didn't even have the skipper's last name! that includes more than just cell phone numbers, but emergency contact numbers as well.
We ran into trouble because we made mistakes.
Mistakes will never end of course. Look what happened to the Queen of the North, and those were professionals. Exxon Valdez, etc. etc.
Anecdotal evidence suggest to me that when private vessels are concerned, lack of knowledge and experience is often at fault; with professionals it seems more emotional/mental health problems including substance abuse.
I want to go sailing! today is nice, but my boat is still occupied and it looks like rain for the next several days.
Dreaming
Here's the latest from the International Chamber of Shipping regard Somalia piracy. There certainly is a tone of frustration, with real cause. It does seem incredible that the international community seems so impotent to stop this. Of course the international community is also largely to blame for the situation emerging - recall that it was only after fish stocks were devastated by mostly European fishing fleets that fishermen turned to piracy. And it was only after these small scale efforts proved so lucrative did organised crime take over.
I also have to wonder how much western meddling was responsible for the collapse of the state of Somalia itself; i need to do a little more reading on it.
Of course the world needs to deal with this situation, of course the world needs to give Somalia a hand's up out of anarchy. I could give a fiddler's fart for the shipping companies themselves, but the seamen and women who sail the Indian Ocean are now at risk, and although few lives have been lost so far, as ships arm themselves the stakes will rise. And don't kid yourself; if the shipping companies continue to lose money this way, they will start taking the law into their own hands. The last paragraph in the press release above is frightening in it's implications:
“It is extraordinary that governments today seem less able to protect shipping than they were almost 200 years ago.”
200 years ago, when a pirate was sighted by a man-of-war, they were blown out of the water, no quarter given. The reverse was often the case when a merchantman was taken by pirates. Do we want to return to the days of wholesale slaughter on the seas?
I've been having strange dreams of late: I've often drempt that I'm back in university again, retaking classes that I've taken before in an attempt to improve my marks. But in those dreams I'm doing quite poorly, and not getting anywhere. It's like I'm afraid to advance to the next level of my education such as a Masters or PhD, just languishing in what I've already done at the bachelor's level. And now last night I had a disturbing dream of doing the same, but this time I'm bombing high school, failing courses that I completed decades ago! Talk about going backwards in life.
I'm not one to interpret dreams as I don't believe they are literal. But I do pay attention to the feelings that emerge from them, and in this case they are a certain sadness and fear, a gnawing awareness that life is passing me by.
I doubt that there is any path without wonders and doubts. For every path we choose there is a myriad of others that are then closed to us, and it is only human to wonder what those others would have offered. In most cases there isn't a right and wrong way to do life; there are choices and each choice results in an outcome. Some outcomes we prefer to others, but who can say which one is the better, especially when we cannot really know what the other option would have been like?
I've often told my children that no matter what choice you make you will learn and grow from the experience. The only "wrong" choice is to stay still, to do nothing.
When I look at my values, when I look at my needs, my life has been awesome. I've done so much in the last 1/2 century, even if from the outside there isn't much in evidence. And I suspect that that is part of the difficulties I'm having at this stage of my life - very little externally in terms of power, status, and material wealth to show for it, to remind me of where I've been.
Paradoxically, none of that has any lasting or intrinsic meaning, so I suspect that those who have chosen more well-trodden paths likely also share the same doubts as mine. One of the great things about being human is that none of us are unique - whatever you feel you can assume that miilions of others feel it as well, no matter how bizarre or unique you believe your experience to be.
Looking back I wouldn't have done it any different; all the major choices I made were right for me at the time. But now? Where do I go from here? There are no shortage of challenges that a fellow can take on, but it's not a matter of choosing challenges for the sake of them, but choosing ones that take you closer to your "destiny" whatever the hell that is.
I'm getting a sense it's about achieving more external things, but having already walked down that path and found it wanting, I wonder if I'm not just experiencing garden-variety existential anxiety. "for you are dust, and to dust you shall return” is more than a comment regarding the ubiquitousness of our material nature; it's an assertion that all we do is ephemeral and ultimately meaningless.
Despite what the media says, despite what is assumed by the greater culture, despite the values thrown at us day after day, my gut tells me that it is who we are that counts, rather than what we do.
Some may have an issue with that, as how can we know who someone is without seeing what they do. And if you will judge someone, shouldn't it be according to what they do, rather than what they say, intend, or carry hidden inside themselves?
The problem lies in the judgment itself. Who's to say that it is required that you be able to see what is in my heart? Our legal system is based on evaluating the significance of human behaviour, but that is simple a social order issue, and not what I'm talking about. What's at stake here is not the orderly functioning of society, but the purpose of human existence.
We judge saints according to their deeds. We look for selflessness, kindness, compassion, humility, and service. Jesus is the model for much of the Western world.
And yet we are dust. Everything we do turns to dust. No matter what you do, no matter what you provide society or civilisation, it all carries on as if you never were. People love and kill, people are born and die, we all struggle for meaning, we all try to overcome our limitations. Banting and Best saved so many people with their discoveries, they ended so much suffering, and yet suffering carries on, and countless individuals still die. One plague ends and another rises. Nations rise and fall, and so do civilisations, no matter how powerful or ancient.
Dust in the wind. And so if we accept that, what we do is ultimately irrelevant. But because I don't believe that we are irrelevant, that life is meaningless, that what we are is of absolute, utmost importance.
I think it comes down to not wanting to engage in "good" or admirable behaviour, but to struggle to become "good", and probably the behaviour will reflect that in ways that others will approve. Good behaviour on it's own is almost meaningless because it's just as easily a manifestation of things other than enlightened spirit -poor self esteem, a deep need to be liked, a need to be accepted, a need for praise, a need to be hidden. While no doubt others can take advantage of it, it's still false and manipulative and at it's core, a lie.
I suspect the world would be a much better place if people struggled as hard to "be" good as they did to have good behavior (which is socially and culturally contingent). An enormous part of my life has been spent struggling towards this, but I have soo very far to go. Perhaps that's why I feel stuck. Perhaps I need to change my life in a way that puts this even more paramount. It's an intriguing notion, although I have no idea what that looks like.
I've talked before about goal setting, and yes there are very concrete ways to go about achieving things. But the real concern is not how to get something, but what to get, and why, and what that means. That is such a very important question.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
Sailing the Broughtons last year
Swimming in Cowichan Bay. The water was 75 degrees F!
Brentwood Bay sunset
East Sooke Park
Taking the girls for a drive in the country.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
I also have to wonder how much western meddling was responsible for the collapse of the state of Somalia itself; i need to do a little more reading on it.
Of course the world needs to deal with this situation, of course the world needs to give Somalia a hand's up out of anarchy. I could give a fiddler's fart for the shipping companies themselves, but the seamen and women who sail the Indian Ocean are now at risk, and although few lives have been lost so far, as ships arm themselves the stakes will rise. And don't kid yourself; if the shipping companies continue to lose money this way, they will start taking the law into their own hands. The last paragraph in the press release above is frightening in it's implications:
“It is extraordinary that governments today seem less able to protect shipping than they were almost 200 years ago.”
200 years ago, when a pirate was sighted by a man-of-war, they were blown out of the water, no quarter given. The reverse was often the case when a merchantman was taken by pirates. Do we want to return to the days of wholesale slaughter on the seas?
I've been having strange dreams of late: I've often drempt that I'm back in university again, retaking classes that I've taken before in an attempt to improve my marks. But in those dreams I'm doing quite poorly, and not getting anywhere. It's like I'm afraid to advance to the next level of my education such as a Masters or PhD, just languishing in what I've already done at the bachelor's level. And now last night I had a disturbing dream of doing the same, but this time I'm bombing high school, failing courses that I completed decades ago! Talk about going backwards in life.
I'm not one to interpret dreams as I don't believe they are literal. But I do pay attention to the feelings that emerge from them, and in this case they are a certain sadness and fear, a gnawing awareness that life is passing me by.
I doubt that there is any path without wonders and doubts. For every path we choose there is a myriad of others that are then closed to us, and it is only human to wonder what those others would have offered. In most cases there isn't a right and wrong way to do life; there are choices and each choice results in an outcome. Some outcomes we prefer to others, but who can say which one is the better, especially when we cannot really know what the other option would have been like?
I've often told my children that no matter what choice you make you will learn and grow from the experience. The only "wrong" choice is to stay still, to do nothing.
When I look at my values, when I look at my needs, my life has been awesome. I've done so much in the last 1/2 century, even if from the outside there isn't much in evidence. And I suspect that that is part of the difficulties I'm having at this stage of my life - very little externally in terms of power, status, and material wealth to show for it, to remind me of where I've been.
Paradoxically, none of that has any lasting or intrinsic meaning, so I suspect that those who have chosen more well-trodden paths likely also share the same doubts as mine. One of the great things about being human is that none of us are unique - whatever you feel you can assume that miilions of others feel it as well, no matter how bizarre or unique you believe your experience to be.
Looking back I wouldn't have done it any different; all the major choices I made were right for me at the time. But now? Where do I go from here? There are no shortage of challenges that a fellow can take on, but it's not a matter of choosing challenges for the sake of them, but choosing ones that take you closer to your "destiny" whatever the hell that is.
I'm getting a sense it's about achieving more external things, but having already walked down that path and found it wanting, I wonder if I'm not just experiencing garden-variety existential anxiety. "for you are dust, and to dust you shall return” is more than a comment regarding the ubiquitousness of our material nature; it's an assertion that all we do is ephemeral and ultimately meaningless.
Despite what the media says, despite what is assumed by the greater culture, despite the values thrown at us day after day, my gut tells me that it is who we are that counts, rather than what we do.
Some may have an issue with that, as how can we know who someone is without seeing what they do. And if you will judge someone, shouldn't it be according to what they do, rather than what they say, intend, or carry hidden inside themselves?
The problem lies in the judgment itself. Who's to say that it is required that you be able to see what is in my heart? Our legal system is based on evaluating the significance of human behaviour, but that is simple a social order issue, and not what I'm talking about. What's at stake here is not the orderly functioning of society, but the purpose of human existence.
We judge saints according to their deeds. We look for selflessness, kindness, compassion, humility, and service. Jesus is the model for much of the Western world.
And yet we are dust. Everything we do turns to dust. No matter what you do, no matter what you provide society or civilisation, it all carries on as if you never were. People love and kill, people are born and die, we all struggle for meaning, we all try to overcome our limitations. Banting and Best saved so many people with their discoveries, they ended so much suffering, and yet suffering carries on, and countless individuals still die. One plague ends and another rises. Nations rise and fall, and so do civilisations, no matter how powerful or ancient.
Dust in the wind. And so if we accept that, what we do is ultimately irrelevant. But because I don't believe that we are irrelevant, that life is meaningless, that what we are is of absolute, utmost importance.
I think it comes down to not wanting to engage in "good" or admirable behaviour, but to struggle to become "good", and probably the behaviour will reflect that in ways that others will approve. Good behaviour on it's own is almost meaningless because it's just as easily a manifestation of things other than enlightened spirit -poor self esteem, a deep need to be liked, a need to be accepted, a need for praise, a need to be hidden. While no doubt others can take advantage of it, it's still false and manipulative and at it's core, a lie.
I suspect the world would be a much better place if people struggled as hard to "be" good as they did to have good behavior (which is socially and culturally contingent). An enormous part of my life has been spent struggling towards this, but I have soo very far to go. Perhaps that's why I feel stuck. Perhaps I need to change my life in a way that puts this even more paramount. It's an intriguing notion, although I have no idea what that looks like.
I've talked before about goal setting, and yes there are very concrete ways to go about achieving things. But the real concern is not how to get something, but what to get, and why, and what that means. That is such a very important question.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
Sailing the Broughtons last year
Swimming in Cowichan Bay. The water was 75 degrees F!
Brentwood Bay sunset
East Sooke Park
Taking the girls for a drive in the country.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
Nothing Beats Living Aboard
I started up the engine the other day and it lit instantly, so the air leak was indeed coming from the old fuel pump. This is important as before I had to keep my finger on the starter to coax it along, which is not go for it at all. The remaining issue is that once it starts it will not go to full revs, but burbles along for maybe about 10 or 15 seconds before it will take off. Unburnt fuel accumulates and there is a big puff of white smoke.
I’m not sure if this is something I’m going to bother with. I suspect that air is still getting in somewhere after the line from the pump-just a little bit, enough to keep proper fuel flow to all injectors until it has been run a few seconds.
This is such a minor issue that I’m not sure I want to chase it down. All that’s left is the primary filter and it’s seals, and the steel line from it to the injection pump. No fuel is leaking so tracking down the source of the air looks like is going to be a hassle and there’s really no reason to be concerned. At this point I’m really talking about very diminished returns for the effort.
There’s another Green Drinks meeting coming up next Tuesday, and again I’ve offered 3 hours of sailing lessons as one of the silent auction prizes. The auction is a fundraiser for Green Drinks. A woman bought the last one and we talked about her going out but I haven’t seen her in a month. Maybe she’s waiting for warmer weather?
I see that they canceled the cruise ship that was going to be used as a floating hotel for the olympics. I am very glad I didn’t go forward with my scheme to rent out my boat for the event. At $150.00/ a night and reservations required I would have been in it for some serious change, and likely not have been able to make it back. There are literally thousands of people wanting to make money off this and prices have been falling like crazy. You can rent a nice downtown condo for under $100.00/night, and there is no way I can compete with that, if I’m starting at a cost of $150.00!
It seems like the massive hordes that they predicated are either waiting to the last minute or just aren’t coming.
I’ve been hammering my brain trying to understand why I so dislike living out here in Gordon Head. Logically, it makes no sense. Gorgeous house, sauna and hot tub, theatre room, bedroom picture windows overlooking the ocean. Am I crazy?
But then it came to me – the house we had in Abbotsford was also lovely; it was far and above the nicest home in the whole neighbourhood. 1/3 of an acre right in the heart of the city, massive lawns and huge flower gardens. A studio for me in the back. Undeveloped forested property behind us. Covered hot tub as well. Gorgeous 1913 heritage home.
I also hated it. Don’t get me wrong, I knew it was very beautiful and I enjoyed it, but after all, it’s only a home. For some people I guess that’s pretty important, but for me it’s just a place to sleep and eat. It sure as hell isn’t your life.
This place reminds me so much of Abbotsford, and I was so depressed living the suburban life out there. I was never meant to be domesticated and living such a passive, predictable life out there was like waiting to die.
It’s not like life at the dock is so very different on a day to day basis, but it’s much less stable, much less fixed. The very fact that every time I get on or off the boat I’m reminded that there are only four small lines holding me there, gives me a much greater sense of freedom. Being able to live without a car adds to that. Having one’s life contained in a small part of town (downtown) means that most of the time you are living your life, not travelling to where you want to go; it’s an experience of being much more immediate, much more in the present.
It became very clear to me when my daughter and I went for a drive out to East Sooke Park in Tracy’s BMW convertible. We had the top down, tunes going, zipping along the narrow winding road. Classical good times, right?
Not so much, at least not as much as I would have thought. The car is an absolute dream to drive, but we’ve gone much of the same route on our bikes and that is much more fun. Sitting there watching the scenery go by is just so damned passive. And I cannot get the fuel burnt out of my mind. When you cruise in bikes you are much more aware and alert because your body is physically being challenged and you are going at a much slower pace, a pace that puts you in the environment rather than just observing it.
So living small on a boat downtown is actually living large, from an emotional and even spiritual perspective. Here the house is large and requires very little from you. It functions to entertain and provide for the smallest effort possible. It’s all about pleasure and comfort. There’s even a $1500.00 espresso machine that gives you coffee with a single press of the button – it grinds the coffee and expresses it for you, all automatically.
If simple comfort is your thing, fine. But it’s like the comfort of the convertible versus the experience of riding my bike. For me at least, such comfort is the antithesis of being fully alive. It’s numbing, it’s fattening. A rabbit in a cage may be comfortable but is it really living the life that millions of years of evolution has prepared it for?
I want to go home! I have 3 more weeks of this privileged hell after which I don’t know if Tracy’ll ever get me off it again!
That worries me, frankly. I don’t want to be this way, but it’s who I am. I’ve spent almost ½ a century figuring out who I am, and I’m at last helming my life in the right direction. Tracy is cut from different cloth, and stability and comfort is her thing. Flexibility is my middle name, but when it actually becomes painful and depressing, it’s asking for too much.
I can’t even take off right now as a friend is homeless and is borrowing the boat for a place to stay. Myself and a few friends were supposed to take off the end of next week, but he’s had to bail and so I’m not sure what I will do.
Last year's Tall Ship sail
Thetis Island two summers ago. Gawd those were the days!
I’m not sure if this is something I’m going to bother with. I suspect that air is still getting in somewhere after the line from the pump-just a little bit, enough to keep proper fuel flow to all injectors until it has been run a few seconds.
This is such a minor issue that I’m not sure I want to chase it down. All that’s left is the primary filter and it’s seals, and the steel line from it to the injection pump. No fuel is leaking so tracking down the source of the air looks like is going to be a hassle and there’s really no reason to be concerned. At this point I’m really talking about very diminished returns for the effort.
There’s another Green Drinks meeting coming up next Tuesday, and again I’ve offered 3 hours of sailing lessons as one of the silent auction prizes. The auction is a fundraiser for Green Drinks. A woman bought the last one and we talked about her going out but I haven’t seen her in a month. Maybe she’s waiting for warmer weather?
I see that they canceled the cruise ship that was going to be used as a floating hotel for the olympics. I am very glad I didn’t go forward with my scheme to rent out my boat for the event. At $150.00/ a night and reservations required I would have been in it for some serious change, and likely not have been able to make it back. There are literally thousands of people wanting to make money off this and prices have been falling like crazy. You can rent a nice downtown condo for under $100.00/night, and there is no way I can compete with that, if I’m starting at a cost of $150.00!
It seems like the massive hordes that they predicated are either waiting to the last minute or just aren’t coming.
I’ve been hammering my brain trying to understand why I so dislike living out here in Gordon Head. Logically, it makes no sense. Gorgeous house, sauna and hot tub, theatre room, bedroom picture windows overlooking the ocean. Am I crazy?
But then it came to me – the house we had in Abbotsford was also lovely; it was far and above the nicest home in the whole neighbourhood. 1/3 of an acre right in the heart of the city, massive lawns and huge flower gardens. A studio for me in the back. Undeveloped forested property behind us. Covered hot tub as well. Gorgeous 1913 heritage home.
I also hated it. Don’t get me wrong, I knew it was very beautiful and I enjoyed it, but after all, it’s only a home. For some people I guess that’s pretty important, but for me it’s just a place to sleep and eat. It sure as hell isn’t your life.
This place reminds me so much of Abbotsford, and I was so depressed living the suburban life out there. I was never meant to be domesticated and living such a passive, predictable life out there was like waiting to die.
It’s not like life at the dock is so very different on a day to day basis, but it’s much less stable, much less fixed. The very fact that every time I get on or off the boat I’m reminded that there are only four small lines holding me there, gives me a much greater sense of freedom. Being able to live without a car adds to that. Having one’s life contained in a small part of town (downtown) means that most of the time you are living your life, not travelling to where you want to go; it’s an experience of being much more immediate, much more in the present.
It became very clear to me when my daughter and I went for a drive out to East Sooke Park in Tracy’s BMW convertible. We had the top down, tunes going, zipping along the narrow winding road. Classical good times, right?
Not so much, at least not as much as I would have thought. The car is an absolute dream to drive, but we’ve gone much of the same route on our bikes and that is much more fun. Sitting there watching the scenery go by is just so damned passive. And I cannot get the fuel burnt out of my mind. When you cruise in bikes you are much more aware and alert because your body is physically being challenged and you are going at a much slower pace, a pace that puts you in the environment rather than just observing it.
So living small on a boat downtown is actually living large, from an emotional and even spiritual perspective. Here the house is large and requires very little from you. It functions to entertain and provide for the smallest effort possible. It’s all about pleasure and comfort. There’s even a $1500.00 espresso machine that gives you coffee with a single press of the button – it grinds the coffee and expresses it for you, all automatically.
If simple comfort is your thing, fine. But it’s like the comfort of the convertible versus the experience of riding my bike. For me at least, such comfort is the antithesis of being fully alive. It’s numbing, it’s fattening. A rabbit in a cage may be comfortable but is it really living the life that millions of years of evolution has prepared it for?
I want to go home! I have 3 more weeks of this privileged hell after which I don’t know if Tracy’ll ever get me off it again!
That worries me, frankly. I don’t want to be this way, but it’s who I am. I’ve spent almost ½ a century figuring out who I am, and I’m at last helming my life in the right direction. Tracy is cut from different cloth, and stability and comfort is her thing. Flexibility is my middle name, but when it actually becomes painful and depressing, it’s asking for too much.
I can’t even take off right now as a friend is homeless and is borrowing the boat for a place to stay. Myself and a few friends were supposed to take off the end of next week, but he’s had to bail and so I’m not sure what I will do.
Last year's Tall Ship sail
Thetis Island two summers ago. Gawd those were the days!
The Secret to Success
I watched this TED video the other day – some of the videos are outstanding – and it turned out be quite different from what I expected. And I think he’s got it all wrong, at least as it’s presented. It’s certainly worth a watch as long as you approach it according to what it’s really about, which is achieving goals.
This is the problem with so many of these “thinkers” and their projects. Rarely is it at all questioned how success is defined. Dropping names like Bill Gates as an example reveals the assumption: success is about entrepreneurship, business, economic leadership, wealth, power, and social status. The American capitalist model of success.
To be a Success in this culture (and Canada as well) one must set lofty goals and using this model achieve them. Following these guides you will likely achieve whatever goal you set, but is that really success? What does success mean? For myself it isn’t necessarily any of the above features.
According to the model, precapitalistic and non-western cultures would have a dearth of how this defines successful individuals. Other cultures may not set goal achievement as the primer arbiter of success. Maybe a holy man is a success. Maybe a good hunter, or a good farmer. Maybe someone who is quiet and reliable is a success, or perhaps someone who throws away their lives for others. Or someone who kills many enemies.
I’m not saying I share these values either, but the possibilities are enormous. It seems to me to be a “Success” (as opposed to simply succeeding at something) is just another American ideology.
In our culture, identity tends to be at least partially defined by the labels we give each other. It’s a subtle but powerful force. So when we talk about someone as a success, that means they define success, they are successful rather than having achieved certain things. The they is very significant because the person becomes an icon according to what they have done rather than who they are.
I cannot think of a greater struggle than someone throwing off a crack addiction to become a functioning member of society, and yet we would hardly call them a success. What they have achieved is enormous, but because it doesn’t fit the cultural image of a success, they will not likely be asked to give a TED presentation.
An issue I have with this very limited notion of what it means to be a success is that there is so much that is ignored. While I avoided most of the news coverage of the local Brotherston trial, I did glance at the final summation and it was profoundly disturbing. Here we have an archetypal “successful” man, according to the values that implies. And yet when confronted with a threatening junkie, Brotherston kills him with his bare hands, snapping the man’s neck in 3 places. He then drives the body to the cop shop and brags about it, telling them that he had “kicked the shit” out of the guy.
I’ve never met Brotherston and I’ve never had my life threatened, but I also don’t believe that I could ever kill a man with my bare hands like that, brutally beating and choking him until he is dead. The details were horrible to read.
The man has wealth and power, both economic and political, and yet I believe that these actions show a very angry, brutal man, used to using his large physical size to dominate or destroy others. Perhaps that says something about why both his kids are junkies, I don’t know.
Now that he is found innocent of 1st degree murder – mostly because Successful men’s words are more valued than that of junkies – he can resume his Successful life. And yet I hope I never, ever meet this man.
I’m not saying all Successful men are killers; what I am saying is goal-defined and driven success may have very little to do with who a man is. I suppose it’s easier to pass judgment on the size of a person’s house or value of their car or the letters after their name.
So what do I think makes a successful individual? I guess I would start with self-awareness. Humility. Courage. Compassion. Selflessness. Gentleness and humour. A person who embodies light and love, and helps relieve human suffering.
I think this kind of person is much, much rarer than any corporate executive and far less likely to be acknowledged. It’s hard to see how this TED video can help people achieve this, and yet the world would be such a better place if we pursued it with same zeal we do becoming Successful.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
This is the problem with so many of these “thinkers” and their projects. Rarely is it at all questioned how success is defined. Dropping names like Bill Gates as an example reveals the assumption: success is about entrepreneurship, business, economic leadership, wealth, power, and social status. The American capitalist model of success.
To be a Success in this culture (and Canada as well) one must set lofty goals and using this model achieve them. Following these guides you will likely achieve whatever goal you set, but is that really success? What does success mean? For myself it isn’t necessarily any of the above features.
According to the model, precapitalistic and non-western cultures would have a dearth of how this defines successful individuals. Other cultures may not set goal achievement as the primer arbiter of success. Maybe a holy man is a success. Maybe a good hunter, or a good farmer. Maybe someone who is quiet and reliable is a success, or perhaps someone who throws away their lives for others. Or someone who kills many enemies.
I’m not saying I share these values either, but the possibilities are enormous. It seems to me to be a “Success” (as opposed to simply succeeding at something) is just another American ideology.
In our culture, identity tends to be at least partially defined by the labels we give each other. It’s a subtle but powerful force. So when we talk about someone as a success, that means they define success, they are successful rather than having achieved certain things. The they is very significant because the person becomes an icon according to what they have done rather than who they are.
I cannot think of a greater struggle than someone throwing off a crack addiction to become a functioning member of society, and yet we would hardly call them a success. What they have achieved is enormous, but because it doesn’t fit the cultural image of a success, they will not likely be asked to give a TED presentation.
An issue I have with this very limited notion of what it means to be a success is that there is so much that is ignored. While I avoided most of the news coverage of the local Brotherston trial, I did glance at the final summation and it was profoundly disturbing. Here we have an archetypal “successful” man, according to the values that implies. And yet when confronted with a threatening junkie, Brotherston kills him with his bare hands, snapping the man’s neck in 3 places. He then drives the body to the cop shop and brags about it, telling them that he had “kicked the shit” out of the guy.
I’ve never met Brotherston and I’ve never had my life threatened, but I also don’t believe that I could ever kill a man with my bare hands like that, brutally beating and choking him until he is dead. The details were horrible to read.
The man has wealth and power, both economic and political, and yet I believe that these actions show a very angry, brutal man, used to using his large physical size to dominate or destroy others. Perhaps that says something about why both his kids are junkies, I don’t know.
Now that he is found innocent of 1st degree murder – mostly because Successful men’s words are more valued than that of junkies – he can resume his Successful life. And yet I hope I never, ever meet this man.
I’m not saying all Successful men are killers; what I am saying is goal-defined and driven success may have very little to do with who a man is. I suppose it’s easier to pass judgment on the size of a person’s house or value of their car or the letters after their name.
So what do I think makes a successful individual? I guess I would start with self-awareness. Humility. Courage. Compassion. Selflessness. Gentleness and humour. A person who embodies light and love, and helps relieve human suffering.
I think this kind of person is much, much rarer than any corporate executive and far less likely to be acknowledged. It’s hard to see how this TED video can help people achieve this, and yet the world would be such a better place if we pursued it with same zeal we do becoming Successful.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
Living the Life? Maybe.
I found it very interesting when I went to see my mom's financial advisor the other day. He was a very nice chap, who shared a passion of history with me. He was obviously dressed to the nines and working for the royal bank was very much a man of the establishment. what interested me the most in our talks was his repeated assurance that I was living the dream.
The funny thing is, this is a man who helps others (and I'm sure makes a good bit of coin at it) move money around to make their dreams. His is an industry that assumes money=happiness and dream fulfillment. I told him I was a writer, lived aboard a sailboat, and that we frequently bob around living here and there in the summer.
The yearning in his voice was unmistakable, and yet part of me doesn't get it. If my life is such a shining example, why not do it? after all, it's a lot easier than working 9-5 for a living and holding down all those debts and payments. I suppose the answer lies in my arguments in my Loser's Guide: the mainstream is known, it's easier to do what others are doing, mainstream life traps you in debt and obligations, and it's hard to stop and jump aboard a new ship mid stream. You also lose the security that comes with all those trappings.
Some days I feel the privilege more than others; this is just my life and it's what I do. There are good days and bad, sometimes I make my goals and at other times I don't. Recently I've been bouncing between the two. As I'm writing this I'm looking over Haro Strait through a picture window. I could stop and go for a sauna or hot tub, or watch a movie in the theatre room. There's a red BMW convertible out in the driveway. I have no plans for the day and might spend it writing. I might decide to take off next week and go for a week long sail unless some work comes up. None of this costs me a cent. I suspect most people would think that was pretty sweet.
But the problem with this kind of thing is that after a time it stops being amazing, which is why it's such a very poor direction to your life. The view is lovely, but so is the one from the deck of my boat. the hot tub hardly gets used, there are only so many movies to watch, and the sauna is best just before bed. Yet it takes a whole professional life (probably two) to accumulate all this.Others no doubt think it's worth while. Personally, I don't.
And as for the BMW? I suppose I should come clean on that, although I feel a little embarrassed. It's Tracy's. A 1997 318i convertible. It was a gift from my mom, who is old school and cannot conceive of being without a car, and wanted to get me one. We didn't really need a car, but since she was offering I bought one that was sheer fun, sheer indulgence. I've almost always owned practical vehicles, so this seemed like a real lark. It is the most fun on four wheels I've ever had and with this mild weather we have been driving around a lot with the top down. I couldn't imagine owning it, which is why it's Tracy's and is in her name. Besides, it's not very often "I" can buy nice things for her and this seemed like a chance.
I haven't got a pic of Tracy's car, but this is the model and colour:
I think having it doesn't make me a hypocrite; what it does mean is that my mom is very generous and sweet and we are very fortunate and privileged. It also means that it doesn't take slavish adherence to a mainstream lifestyle to have material riches.
So things are very good but I'm still restless. Work is slow right now so maybe I'll go sailing again? Perhaps start writing again, as I've got a lot of unfinished projects.
The funny thing is, this is a man who helps others (and I'm sure makes a good bit of coin at it) move money around to make their dreams. His is an industry that assumes money=happiness and dream fulfillment. I told him I was a writer, lived aboard a sailboat, and that we frequently bob around living here and there in the summer.
The yearning in his voice was unmistakable, and yet part of me doesn't get it. If my life is such a shining example, why not do it? after all, it's a lot easier than working 9-5 for a living and holding down all those debts and payments. I suppose the answer lies in my arguments in my Loser's Guide: the mainstream is known, it's easier to do what others are doing, mainstream life traps you in debt and obligations, and it's hard to stop and jump aboard a new ship mid stream. You also lose the security that comes with all those trappings.
Some days I feel the privilege more than others; this is just my life and it's what I do. There are good days and bad, sometimes I make my goals and at other times I don't. Recently I've been bouncing between the two. As I'm writing this I'm looking over Haro Strait through a picture window. I could stop and go for a sauna or hot tub, or watch a movie in the theatre room. There's a red BMW convertible out in the driveway. I have no plans for the day and might spend it writing. I might decide to take off next week and go for a week long sail unless some work comes up. None of this costs me a cent. I suspect most people would think that was pretty sweet.
But the problem with this kind of thing is that after a time it stops being amazing, which is why it's such a very poor direction to your life. The view is lovely, but so is the one from the deck of my boat. the hot tub hardly gets used, there are only so many movies to watch, and the sauna is best just before bed. Yet it takes a whole professional life (probably two) to accumulate all this.Others no doubt think it's worth while. Personally, I don't.
And as for the BMW? I suppose I should come clean on that, although I feel a little embarrassed. It's Tracy's. A 1997 318i convertible. It was a gift from my mom, who is old school and cannot conceive of being without a car, and wanted to get me one. We didn't really need a car, but since she was offering I bought one that was sheer fun, sheer indulgence. I've almost always owned practical vehicles, so this seemed like a real lark. It is the most fun on four wheels I've ever had and with this mild weather we have been driving around a lot with the top down. I couldn't imagine owning it, which is why it's Tracy's and is in her name. Besides, it's not very often "I" can buy nice things for her and this seemed like a chance.
I haven't got a pic of Tracy's car, but this is the model and colour:
I think having it doesn't make me a hypocrite; what it does mean is that my mom is very generous and sweet and we are very fortunate and privileged. It also means that it doesn't take slavish adherence to a mainstream lifestyle to have material riches.
So things are very good but I'm still restless. Work is slow right now so maybe I'll go sailing again? Perhaps start writing again, as I've got a lot of unfinished projects.
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.
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.
The Beast is Conquered - The Westerbeke 30 demon has been excorcised
After one of the greatest, most epic struggles of man against machine, I have at last tamed the beast. For now. Glory of all glories, it was indeed a leak in the fuel system that has been plaguing me all this time. Right now the engine starts and runs far better than the VW diesel we borrowed last month. I might even go as far as say it sounds like a new engine and starts as fast as any fuel injected car engine. Not bad at all for a 30-year-old marinised tractor diesel!
I still have to actually find the source of that said leak, and I’m going to install the electric fuel pump I have kicking around as an emergency spare, and see how that goes. Before the pump there are a couple of switchable Racor fuel filters, a priming bulb, and the line from the tank.
I can’t see it as anything other than fittings or the fuel pump itself, since air bubbles appeared in the line between the pump and the primary filter, and there doesn’t seem any way that air bubbles could sink down to the pump, pass through the pump, and rise up to the primary filter while the engine is just sitting.
I also swapped over the genoa for my storm jib, and so I once again have my sailboat back! Having the genoa on the deck allowed me to get a better look at it, and man, that sail is tired! The sad part is that it is not sailing or even UV that has worn it so badly, but the roller furling. You just can’t roll up a sail of that size on the headstay without wrinkles, and with this heavy cloth, it tends to wrinkle on the same spot each time. Consequently, the sail has a multitude of worn creases in the material, any of which could tear out.
The main is the same age and it doesn’t have any of those creases and is good for many more years.
Of course it makes furling easier and it would be a nightmare fighting with a genoa of that weight in a blow, but I’m wondering if it isn’t time to go back to hanks: simple, foolproof, and they don’t destroy your sail. I don’t think I’ve ever been caught out in an totally unanticipated blow where I was very grateful to be able to furl the genoa without going on deck. Our last keelboat had hanks, and although it was obviously more work, we never worried about damage to our headsails.
There are a lot of reasons to be dismayed about the upcoming games, but this one hits closer to home than most. I enquired about transient moorage rates at government marinas in Vancouver (city owned and operated) during the month of February. When I received the email from them my jaw dropped. The city of Vancouver is charging transient boaters $2.25/ft/day + taxes and power during the games. Apparently they have also shut down anchoring privileges in False Creek, citing “security” concerns. That’s almost $150.00/day for a 36 ft boat, almost triple high season rates during the summer. It's not just homeowners hoping to scam obscene money off visitors this February.
I don’t have much problem with private citizens trying to earn a fast buck at the olympics, but the city? Watch me get threatened with a lawsuit from the goons at vanoc for this post.
Now that things are back to normal, I’m not sure what to do next. I’m getting itchy feet again. It’s not enough to just sit around and enjoy a superb lifestyle, while on the boat or in the fabulous dream house on the ocean. I should be writing but I find all this moving around is very counter-productive. Paradoxically, I need stability to be able to sink into writing; when we are moving all over the place, my focus is external rather than internal, and I simply cannot switch back and forth very easily. That’s why I can never write (aside from blogging) when I’m cruising. I have a novel that I need to get back to, but bouncing back and forth from house and boat just keeps things so stirred up that working on it is impossible. Next year if Tracy wants to spend three months off the boat, it’s gonna be at one place.
I suspect this is the biggest reason why many people occupy themselves in traditional careers: you aren't stuck with the daily responsibility of making your life count, making it worthwhile. When most people wake up in the morning they know what they have to do, good or bad. Throw all that away and the huge responsibility for your life really hits home.
It's funny staying in this house with all this opulence. There are times when it makes me question my own life's choices. I suppose that's not a bad thing -better to constantly question yourself than to make a choice and just plow ahead regardless. Of course it's the latter that allows one to accumulate this kind of privilege but I wonder how that feels in the wee hours of the night? Material wealth means very little in terms of emotional and spiritual fulfillment.
But it is astounding when you see the sheer amount that is possible when someone bulls ahead in ways that society rewards (and while this is tremendously abundant it is nowhere near the upper limit) and it does make me wonder if i have sold myself short.
But here's the catch: I did a personality test a number of years back and the strongest value that I have is the need for freedom. And to me that is absolute; it means that I have to be free to chose A or B every single moment of my day. If I want to go, I go. If I want to go elsewhere, I go elsewhere. Anything that gets in the way of that grates like dragging a screaming baby down a chalkboard. The only exception to that is my marriage, which i consider that something of a miracle. It has taken an enormous effort on my part to stick with it for all these years and not wander off, so forget about a career!
To be faithful to myself has required me to dabble in a great many things but not commit to any of them, and that has had a great economic consequence. The only compensation to that is knowing that I will in the end be much happier economically marginalised and faithful to my nature than be materially rich and living a dishonest life.
There isn't a day that goes by when I don't feel awe at the tremendous privilege that is my life.
I attended the rally against prorogation on Saturday, and it really did my heart good to see all those people out demanding democracy. The greatest part was that it was non-partisan; people were simply demanding democratic accountability and that their House be operating when it is supposed to be. For a nation of supposed passivists, across Canada there were a lot of people concerned about a very abstract ideal. I doubt very much that the Conservatives will try that tactic again in the near future.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
I still have to actually find the source of that said leak, and I’m going to install the electric fuel pump I have kicking around as an emergency spare, and see how that goes. Before the pump there are a couple of switchable Racor fuel filters, a priming bulb, and the line from the tank.
I can’t see it as anything other than fittings or the fuel pump itself, since air bubbles appeared in the line between the pump and the primary filter, and there doesn’t seem any way that air bubbles could sink down to the pump, pass through the pump, and rise up to the primary filter while the engine is just sitting.
I also swapped over the genoa for my storm jib, and so I once again have my sailboat back! Having the genoa on the deck allowed me to get a better look at it, and man, that sail is tired! The sad part is that it is not sailing or even UV that has worn it so badly, but the roller furling. You just can’t roll up a sail of that size on the headstay without wrinkles, and with this heavy cloth, it tends to wrinkle on the same spot each time. Consequently, the sail has a multitude of worn creases in the material, any of which could tear out.
The main is the same age and it doesn’t have any of those creases and is good for many more years.
Of course it makes furling easier and it would be a nightmare fighting with a genoa of that weight in a blow, but I’m wondering if it isn’t time to go back to hanks: simple, foolproof, and they don’t destroy your sail. I don’t think I’ve ever been caught out in an totally unanticipated blow where I was very grateful to be able to furl the genoa without going on deck. Our last keelboat had hanks, and although it was obviously more work, we never worried about damage to our headsails.
There are a lot of reasons to be dismayed about the upcoming games, but this one hits closer to home than most. I enquired about transient moorage rates at government marinas in Vancouver (city owned and operated) during the month of February. When I received the email from them my jaw dropped. The city of Vancouver is charging transient boaters $2.25/ft/day + taxes and power during the games. Apparently they have also shut down anchoring privileges in False Creek, citing “security” concerns. That’s almost $150.00/day for a 36 ft boat, almost triple high season rates during the summer. It's not just homeowners hoping to scam obscene money off visitors this February.
I don’t have much problem with private citizens trying to earn a fast buck at the olympics, but the city? Watch me get threatened with a lawsuit from the goons at vanoc for this post.
Now that things are back to normal, I’m not sure what to do next. I’m getting itchy feet again. It’s not enough to just sit around and enjoy a superb lifestyle, while on the boat or in the fabulous dream house on the ocean. I should be writing but I find all this moving around is very counter-productive. Paradoxically, I need stability to be able to sink into writing; when we are moving all over the place, my focus is external rather than internal, and I simply cannot switch back and forth very easily. That’s why I can never write (aside from blogging) when I’m cruising. I have a novel that I need to get back to, but bouncing back and forth from house and boat just keeps things so stirred up that working on it is impossible. Next year if Tracy wants to spend three months off the boat, it’s gonna be at one place.
I suspect this is the biggest reason why many people occupy themselves in traditional careers: you aren't stuck with the daily responsibility of making your life count, making it worthwhile. When most people wake up in the morning they know what they have to do, good or bad. Throw all that away and the huge responsibility for your life really hits home.
It's funny staying in this house with all this opulence. There are times when it makes me question my own life's choices. I suppose that's not a bad thing -better to constantly question yourself than to make a choice and just plow ahead regardless. Of course it's the latter that allows one to accumulate this kind of privilege but I wonder how that feels in the wee hours of the night? Material wealth means very little in terms of emotional and spiritual fulfillment.
But it is astounding when you see the sheer amount that is possible when someone bulls ahead in ways that society rewards (and while this is tremendously abundant it is nowhere near the upper limit) and it does make me wonder if i have sold myself short.
But here's the catch: I did a personality test a number of years back and the strongest value that I have is the need for freedom. And to me that is absolute; it means that I have to be free to chose A or B every single moment of my day. If I want to go, I go. If I want to go elsewhere, I go elsewhere. Anything that gets in the way of that grates like dragging a screaming baby down a chalkboard. The only exception to that is my marriage, which i consider that something of a miracle. It has taken an enormous effort on my part to stick with it for all these years and not wander off, so forget about a career!
To be faithful to myself has required me to dabble in a great many things but not commit to any of them, and that has had a great economic consequence. The only compensation to that is knowing that I will in the end be much happier economically marginalised and faithful to my nature than be materially rich and living a dishonest life.
There isn't a day that goes by when I don't feel awe at the tremendous privilege that is my life.
I attended the rally against prorogation on Saturday, and it really did my heart good to see all those people out demanding democracy. The greatest part was that it was non-partisan; people were simply demanding democratic accountability and that their House be operating when it is supposed to be. For a nation of supposed passivists, across Canada there were a lot of people concerned about a very abstract ideal. I doubt very much that the Conservatives will try that tactic again in the near future.
Come sail with us. www.selfdiscoverysail.com
Bringing Satan to Heel Part Duex
I returned to the boat today determined to find the problem with my engine. As an aside, I had the first good sleep since before Xmas last night, such is the healing power of sailing. I saw a couple of sailboats mooching upwind on Haro Strait this morning and felt a little jealous, but I have a job to do.
First thing is to check compression. Bad compression will make a diesel hard to light, but once it starts, heat will often expand parts and increase cylinder compression, allowing the engine to run well. Unlike a gas engine, on a diesel you have to measure compression through a glow plug port or the injector port. I bought a cheap diesel compression gauge off ebay because I knew that the odds of ever using it again were slim, and good ones can cost over $200.00. Besides, total compression is less important than variability between cylinders, so even if it's 10 or 15% inaccurate, it's good enough.
First thing to do is pull the 4 glow plugs.
Once the glow plugs are out, you have to screw in the correct sized fitting into the port. This cheap gauge had a whole set of adapters.
The gauge snaps onto the adapter. You have to make sure it fits tightly as the pressures are enormous.
You then turn over the engine until the gauge maxes out. Note - remember to pull out the engine stop lever or the engine will blow diesel fumes out the open glow plug ports! Don't ask how I know this...
I did this for each cylinder. Below was a typical reading. I found 450 - 400 - 430 - 450 PSI. It occurs to me looking at this, I probably should have worn safety goggles; with those kinds of pressures inside the thing and it's dubious Chinese provenance, there might have been a risk of it blowing up in my hand!
The reading certainly shows why you can't use a gas engine compression tester!
At any rate, this is very good news. The rule of thumb is that no one cylinder can be off by more than 25%, and these pressure are very healthy. So the engine is in good shape. If you wanted to be a perfectionist, the next step would be a leak-down test, but I don't think it's required.
My research tells me that if it's not compression then air in the fuel system must be culprit. This can enter through the lift pump, bad seals in the fuel filters, or loose connections somewhere. One way to check for this is to put a piece of clear tubing in the fuel line where it enters the primary filter and watch for air bubbles to pass through.
Checking for air bubbles.
Well, the results are inconclusive, but I think I'm getting very close to something. There were a few large bubbles that drifted through, but I'm not certain if they got into the system when I cracked the line to insert the clear tube. Certainly once the engine was running there were no bubbles.
But it occurs to me - once I installed the clear tubing, I bled the system of air by loosening the central mounting nut from the primary filter and manually pumping fuel through it. What's unusual is that the engine lit instantly, so there's a chance that by doing the bleeding I removed air from the system that normally makes starting so difficult. Maybe those few bubbles that appeared in the beginning is what makes starting so hard. If that's the case, when the engine sits overnight air is getting into the lines. That's a different problem then something like a leaking lift pump as that would show up all the time, even when running. This problem seems to occur when it sits rather than when it runs.
This is a relief. I've been banging my head against this problem for 6 months. But when it started today, it did so better than it ever has, and ran better as well. I'm so close!
My next step is to come back to the boat tomorrow, bleed the filter again, and see if it lights up just as easy. If so, I know the problem and just have to track down the source of the air intrusion.
First thing is to check compression. Bad compression will make a diesel hard to light, but once it starts, heat will often expand parts and increase cylinder compression, allowing the engine to run well. Unlike a gas engine, on a diesel you have to measure compression through a glow plug port or the injector port. I bought a cheap diesel compression gauge off ebay because I knew that the odds of ever using it again were slim, and good ones can cost over $200.00. Besides, total compression is less important than variability between cylinders, so even if it's 10 or 15% inaccurate, it's good enough.
First thing to do is pull the 4 glow plugs.
Once the glow plugs are out, you have to screw in the correct sized fitting into the port. This cheap gauge had a whole set of adapters.
The gauge snaps onto the adapter. You have to make sure it fits tightly as the pressures are enormous.
You then turn over the engine until the gauge maxes out. Note - remember to pull out the engine stop lever or the engine will blow diesel fumes out the open glow plug ports! Don't ask how I know this...
I did this for each cylinder. Below was a typical reading. I found 450 - 400 - 430 - 450 PSI. It occurs to me looking at this, I probably should have worn safety goggles; with those kinds of pressures inside the thing and it's dubious Chinese provenance, there might have been a risk of it blowing up in my hand!
The reading certainly shows why you can't use a gas engine compression tester!
At any rate, this is very good news. The rule of thumb is that no one cylinder can be off by more than 25%, and these pressure are very healthy. So the engine is in good shape. If you wanted to be a perfectionist, the next step would be a leak-down test, but I don't think it's required.
My research tells me that if it's not compression then air in the fuel system must be culprit. This can enter through the lift pump, bad seals in the fuel filters, or loose connections somewhere. One way to check for this is to put a piece of clear tubing in the fuel line where it enters the primary filter and watch for air bubbles to pass through.
Checking for air bubbles.
Well, the results are inconclusive, but I think I'm getting very close to something. There were a few large bubbles that drifted through, but I'm not certain if they got into the system when I cracked the line to insert the clear tube. Certainly once the engine was running there were no bubbles.
But it occurs to me - once I installed the clear tubing, I bled the system of air by loosening the central mounting nut from the primary filter and manually pumping fuel through it. What's unusual is that the engine lit instantly, so there's a chance that by doing the bleeding I removed air from the system that normally makes starting so difficult. Maybe those few bubbles that appeared in the beginning is what makes starting so hard. If that's the case, when the engine sits overnight air is getting into the lines. That's a different problem then something like a leaking lift pump as that would show up all the time, even when running. This problem seems to occur when it sits rather than when it runs.
This is a relief. I've been banging my head against this problem for 6 months. But when it started today, it did so better than it ever has, and ran better as well. I'm so close!
My next step is to come back to the boat tomorrow, bleed the filter again, and see if it lights up just as easy. If so, I know the problem and just have to track down the source of the air intrusion.
The Sea Makes Cowards of us All
What to do, what to do... the once again the weather gawds made my choice for me. Come this morning it was still blowing strong out of the north. It was forecast to swing around to the sou' east and I took care of a few things online and waited to see what would happen. Sure enough, it came about, but with a lot more poop than I expected. One thing was for sure, I couldn't stay where I was, wide open to the south like that. The wind was fair for a run up to the Gulf Islands, but both my emotional state and the my gut told me "bad idea". I was far from top form and it was getting really gnarly out there, with a gale in the offing.
I detest turning back, but nothing pointed to carrying on, other than a favourable wind direction. I think if I had crew I would have headed north, but with winds like that, when something goes wrong it happens fast and there is only me to respond, and today I didn't trust myself.
With a curse at my caution and my laggard constitution, I headed south to Trial Island.
Anyone who sails in this area knows that the area East of Trial Island can be nasty in a blow, regardless of wind direction. Today was a wind against tide situation, and it really got nasty out there. I thought it was intolerable to motor in such wind so I pulled out my genny about 1/2 way. Big mistake. By the time I got it sheeted in it had blown out with a bad rip about 1/3 the way down from the head of the sail. SOB! So much for sailing.
It was a hell of a thing getting that jib reefed back in (Mowat reef was on my lee and couldn't bear off as much as I would have liked) and I had only just done so when a great sucking hole crossed my bow and I fell into hell. Her nose dove in and I had a foot of water running across the decks, and even the house was buried in green water. We then broached and rolled a rail into the sea-my very first broach and it sure isn't something I can recommend. That was by far the biggest wave I've ever encountered.
Of course she shook it off and came back about; she's a good, trustworthy boat. I turned away from the seas to make for Enterprise channel, conditions worse than anything I've been in, worse than when we had that long downwind run Johnston Strait this fall. Damn Juan de Fuca Strait - you never know what she's gonna throw at you. It was much more than the wind; currents can really charge out of Mayor channel and it was a good tide today. Put 30 knot winds against tides like that and you bugger with it at your peril!
Once in the lee of Trial Island the rollers slackened off for a bit, which allowed me to make some sense of the carnage below. One of Tracy's vases had popped out of God knows where and had smashed into a thousand pieces on the sole. And silly bugger that I am, I had neglected to seal the V-berth hatch, and gallons of seawater had shot in, soaking the bed and drenching everything else in the bow. A brand new duvet too. I'm gonna catch it for that one.
Still, the rest of the run to Vic harbour was a lot of fun. The waves picked up off Clover point, and it felt great to be back in the saddle again, keeping her on course as the seas kept trying to swing her fat arse around. Of course it would have been a lot more fun to sail instead of motor, but with that torn jib it wasn't an option, as there was no way in hell I was climbing on that rolling deck to swap in the storm jib or try and raise the main. I passed a sailboat nosing into the weather, and they were pitching so much they reminded me of the oil jacks you see in Alberta. I was starting to feel like my old self again. The sea can do that to you.
The trip back to harbour was much too short, but I knew better then hang around out there, and I'm at peace with my decision. Things were definitely not going my way, and my gut was right about turning tail. I'm irritated about that genoa, and I think I will just replace it rather than have it fixed. I like the fact that it's 8 oz cloth, but with the rotten foot and these small tears I've sewed up (plus the big one from today) that will have to be properly patched, it probably isn't worth it. On Saturday I'll pull it and run up the storm jib for now.
I've also got to bring this engine to heel, once and for all. She has never run better since all the work, but the hard starting remains, and I will have that resolved before the season really starts, even if I have to bring in a diesel tech. There's either air getting into the fuel lines somewhere or something mechanical that is causing low compression. My gut tells me that I have a cracked piston ring, but I'll know tomorrow as I'll do a compression test on all of the cylinders.
I detest turning back, but nothing pointed to carrying on, other than a favourable wind direction. I think if I had crew I would have headed north, but with winds like that, when something goes wrong it happens fast and there is only me to respond, and today I didn't trust myself.
With a curse at my caution and my laggard constitution, I headed south to Trial Island.
Anyone who sails in this area knows that the area East of Trial Island can be nasty in a blow, regardless of wind direction. Today was a wind against tide situation, and it really got nasty out there. I thought it was intolerable to motor in such wind so I pulled out my genny about 1/2 way. Big mistake. By the time I got it sheeted in it had blown out with a bad rip about 1/3 the way down from the head of the sail. SOB! So much for sailing.
It was a hell of a thing getting that jib reefed back in (Mowat reef was on my lee and couldn't bear off as much as I would have liked) and I had only just done so when a great sucking hole crossed my bow and I fell into hell. Her nose dove in and I had a foot of water running across the decks, and even the house was buried in green water. We then broached and rolled a rail into the sea-my very first broach and it sure isn't something I can recommend. That was by far the biggest wave I've ever encountered.
Of course she shook it off and came back about; she's a good, trustworthy boat. I turned away from the seas to make for Enterprise channel, conditions worse than anything I've been in, worse than when we had that long downwind run Johnston Strait this fall. Damn Juan de Fuca Strait - you never know what she's gonna throw at you. It was much more than the wind; currents can really charge out of Mayor channel and it was a good tide today. Put 30 knot winds against tides like that and you bugger with it at your peril!
Once in the lee of Trial Island the rollers slackened off for a bit, which allowed me to make some sense of the carnage below. One of Tracy's vases had popped out of God knows where and had smashed into a thousand pieces on the sole. And silly bugger that I am, I had neglected to seal the V-berth hatch, and gallons of seawater had shot in, soaking the bed and drenching everything else in the bow. A brand new duvet too. I'm gonna catch it for that one.
Still, the rest of the run to Vic harbour was a lot of fun. The waves picked up off Clover point, and it felt great to be back in the saddle again, keeping her on course as the seas kept trying to swing her fat arse around. Of course it would have been a lot more fun to sail instead of motor, but with that torn jib it wasn't an option, as there was no way in hell I was climbing on that rolling deck to swap in the storm jib or try and raise the main. I passed a sailboat nosing into the weather, and they were pitching so much they reminded me of the oil jacks you see in Alberta. I was starting to feel like my old self again. The sea can do that to you.
The trip back to harbour was much too short, but I knew better then hang around out there, and I'm at peace with my decision. Things were definitely not going my way, and my gut was right about turning tail. I'm irritated about that genoa, and I think I will just replace it rather than have it fixed. I like the fact that it's 8 oz cloth, but with the rotten foot and these small tears I've sewed up (plus the big one from today) that will have to be properly patched, it probably isn't worth it. On Saturday I'll pull it and run up the storm jib for now.
I've also got to bring this engine to heel, once and for all. She has never run better since all the work, but the hard starting remains, and I will have that resolved before the season really starts, even if I have to bring in a diesel tech. There's either air getting into the fuel lines somewhere or something mechanical that is causing low compression. My gut tells me that I have a cracked piston ring, but I'll know tomorrow as I'll do a compression test on all of the cylinders.
First Sail Out of Victoria, 2010
I have been feeling quite burned out the last few weeks and decided to rely on my favourite cure-all and go sailing. The weather Gawds co-operated (after a fashion) and contrived to send me a lovely, mostly sunny day. Of course I paid for such sunshine by having the wind constantly on the nose from the moment I left the harbour, turned east, passed Trial island and eventually headed north by northwest up Haro Strait. The wind veered almost perfectly in step with my progress, so in disgust I turned about and headed into Cadboro Bay for the night. No matter; I couldn't get going until later in the day, and keeping things easy was fine by me.
I was surprised by how little this short jaunt mollified me. Normally, it only took an hour or less of being on the water and I am far more relaxed and in a much brighter mood. Not this time. I think I let myself get dragged down too far, and it's going to take longer for me to recover. Of course it's more relaxing when it's a glorious warm summer day, although I have absolutely no complaints regarding today's weather, considering it's still January and I only needed a sweater.
So now I'm at anchor in Cadboro Bay wondering what I'm doing here and if I should just pack it in. That oceanfront villa is looking all the more promising, but that seems to me to be the easy way out. Generally speaking I like things to be more rather than less difficult, as I feel more alive and I enjoy a challenge. But right now I'm sleep deprived and weakened, and don't know which is the best way to recharge my emotional and spiritual batteries. I guess I'll have to decide tomorrow whether to turn back and seek easy comfort or push on ahead.
Sublime day on Juan de Fuca Strait
I was surprised by how little this short jaunt mollified me. Normally, it only took an hour or less of being on the water and I am far more relaxed and in a much brighter mood. Not this time. I think I let myself get dragged down too far, and it's going to take longer for me to recover. Of course it's more relaxing when it's a glorious warm summer day, although I have absolutely no complaints regarding today's weather, considering it's still January and I only needed a sweater.
So now I'm at anchor in Cadboro Bay wondering what I'm doing here and if I should just pack it in. That oceanfront villa is looking all the more promising, but that seems to me to be the easy way out. Generally speaking I like things to be more rather than less difficult, as I feel more alive and I enjoy a challenge. But right now I'm sleep deprived and weakened, and don't know which is the best way to recharge my emotional and spiritual batteries. I guess I'll have to decide tomorrow whether to turn back and seek easy comfort or push on ahead.
Sublime day on Juan de Fuca Strait