So, last time we spoke, we were all set to leave Vero. The dinghy was up, the motors were idling, the weasels were stored in their upright seating positions and Amy was on the bow of the boat preparing to cast off our mooring lines when suddenly the starboard side motor coughed and died. Uh oh....
I restarted the engine and upon closer inspection it became apparent that the engine was no longer discharging raw water. Ok, definitely time for a Shitty Death !
I smacked the engine on the side cover twice just in case that was all that was required, but this proved ineffectual. Dejectedly, I told Amy to re secure our lines and I shut everything else off.
To even inspect the water cooling system, I have to remove the engine from it's well and while not nearly as bad a job as if we had inboard diesels, it still is an hours worth of work to get it out and remember, I am lame.
By noon the engine was loose and I hoisted it into the cockpit. Everything was going smoothly until I dropped it on my foot. Ouch. Long time readers will attest to the poor condition of my feet as I have had many breaks and sprains over the last four or five years. Nothing seemed broken so I continued to diagnose the engine.
i don't have a lot of experience working on the internals of outboard engines, but really they aren't that different than an automotive gas engine so with careful consultation of my engine diagnostic manual, I dove in.
My book says that lack of water output usually means the impeller is shot. The impeller is the spinning rubber mechanism on the drive shaft below the water that forced raw (sea) water up into the engine to cool it much like a radiator on a car does.
To access the impeller, you have to separate the lower end of the motor from the top end. this lower piece is aptly called the "lower unit". It took me 90 minutes to get them apart, but eventually I got it done with the use of the BFH (big f-ing hammer).
Once apart, it was plain to see that the impeller was completely worn out. Unfortunately, we don't carry one (or two) on board and after scouring the countryside, the best I could do was to have them overnighted from a wholesaler in Miami. Oh well, it could have been worse right?
Turns out it was. Sometime during the night, I awoke to find my foot swollen to three times it's normal size and throbbing like, well, something that throbs a lot. It hurt.
In the morning I couldn't put any weight on my foot and we began to fear the worst. There was no obvious sign of a break, so we were hoping it was just sprained and sore. We decided to give it a couple of days before consulting professional medical help.
My foot slowly got better over the next couple of days and two days ago I started walking around the boat again with the help of my trusty cane. Yesterday I felt good enough to re-assemble the engine and get it back into it's engine compartment. Once I wired it back up, I started it up and to my dismay, no water emerged from the overflow tube. Shitty Death Again!
Dejected, I stopped for the day and went inside to have dinner with Amy and the weasels. Afterwords I researched our cooling problems further, both online and in the manual and I came to the conclusion that there must be a sediment blockage somewhere in the cooling passages inside the powerhead.
Armed with this knowledge I spent four hours today chasing salt crud in and around tiny little passage ways. I rigged up a proton powered, 12 volt, vinegar injector pump which I (correctly as it turns out) assumed would combat the calcification living in our remote cooling passages.
Five gallons of vinegar and two hours later, all was right in the world; the engine is now discharging water like a proverbial race horse, engine temperatures are super cool, my foot is slowly getting better and the entire outer deck of Team Dream Catcher smells like Boardwalk French fries. Ah, such is life in paradise.
We now resume your regularly scheduled cruise to the islands.
Be safe, it's dumb out there...