Lake Okeechobee from the Rim
photo wikimedia commons
Nemesis was the Greek goddess who took particular pleasure in punishing those who succumbed to the sin of Hubris, or "being out of touch with reality and overestimating one's own competence or capabilities".
Nemesis, by Alfred Rethel (1837)
She's a vengeful angel, but this week, I had her outnumbered 3-1. Let me explain...
4 days ago, I attempted to motor across the lake against a 5-10 knot breeze. That's when my motor died again. I was able to sail back along the twisting, 10 mile channel, back to the town of Clewiston -- one of the few towns on the Okeechobee Waterway with a marina.
The Roland Martin Marine Center was too busy to tackle my problem immediately, so they put me in touch with my first angel -- a very experienced boat mechanic, appropriately named Tommy Barnicle.
Tom diagnosed the problem in about 15 seconds: one of the plastic ports that the fuel lines attach to had developed a crack and thus a fuel leak. Enough gas got through the line to keep the engine running badly, which explains why I could start the engine, and why it stalled when I put it into gear.
4 days ago, I attempted to motor across the lake against a 5-10 knot breeze. That's when my motor died again. I was able to sail back along the twisting, 10 mile channel, back to the town of Clewiston -- one of the few towns on the Okeechobee Waterway with a marina.
The Roland Martin Marine Center was too busy to tackle my problem immediately, so they put me in touch with my first angel -- a very experienced boat mechanic, appropriately named Tommy Barnicle.
Tom diagnosed the problem in about 15 seconds: one of the plastic ports that the fuel lines attach to had developed a crack and thus a fuel leak. Enough gas got through the line to keep the engine running badly, which explains why I could start the engine, and why it stalled when I put it into gear.
As long as I had Tom's attention, I mentioned that the engine had been overheating if I went above 3 knots. He thought that was either the impeller or -- less likely -- the thermostat.
Sketch by Mr. Theodore R. Davis
wikimedia commons
The impeller blade is like the paddle wheel on the back of a stern wheeler, only smaller. With age, the plastic blades develop a curve, which reduces the impeller's pumping efficiency, and thus it can't pump enough water through the system to keep the engine cool.
Just one problem: neither Tom nor any of the other mechanics at the marina could figure out what model engine I had. All the markings had been erased by the sun. The engine's cover was a pure Johnson cream. No trace remained of the company name, design, horse power, etc.
Worse, the model and serial numbers had been bleached right off the information plate affixed to the engine.
The engine's cream color seemed to indicate a Johnson engine, but the only readable label on the engine said 'Bombardier'. And one mechanic noticed that the engine's lower half was clearly made by Suzuki.
In short, they could not figure out what parts to order.
After listening to the debate for an hour or so, I remembered that the marina in Sarasota had already ordered a carburetor repair kit for the engine. Surely they knew the engine model. So called the service manager up there and she confidently gave me the three part numbers. This settled the argument and the parts were ordered with overnight delivery.
Next afternoon, the parts arrived and I thought I was home free. Just one problem. They didn't fit. They were the wrong parts. We were back to square one, not knowing what type of engine we were dealing with.
At this point, I threw in the towel. I had had enough of this lousy engine and decided to buy a new one. Just one problem. After phoning dealers around the state of Florida, I discovered that Florida dealers do not stock outboards for sailboats (which need a special long shaft). It was a special order, which meant a 1-2 week delivery.
Despair started to set in... Was Nemesis going to defeat me?
That is when my second angel came through. Steve D., a reader of this blog, had read about my engine troubles. Amazingly, he contacted me and offered to lend me the engine off the back of his dingy, to help me get to Stuart, where he had a home. All I had to do was arrange to have it picked up.
I normally prefer to solve my own problems, but I was out of options. Steve's stunningly kind offer was a gift from heaven, and I was smart enough not to spurn angels bearing gifts.
So I called on my third angel, my brother Bruce, who lives in Jupiter FL. He jumped into immediate action and picked up the engine from Steve that afternoon. The next day, he drove it the 75 miles to Clewiston, on the west shore of Okeechobee. We installed it on the boat, tested it, and celebrated in the marina's Tiki Bar.
At dawn the next morning, with the sun still a pink hint on the horizon, I prepared to get underway. I was up early, determined to make up for the 4 lost days.
I gave the Yamaha 15 HP 2 stroke engine a pull. It coughed... and died.
I gave the Yamaha 15 HP 2 stroke engine a pull. It coughed... and died.
I pulled the starting cord again... nothing. Again... nothing. No cough, no sputtering, nothing.
Hovering over the west rim of the Okeechobee, Nemesis chuckled... I heard her and, glancing up, saw the skirt of her long robe as she ducked behind a cloud. I shook my fist at her, and sent a blue cloud of curses up to the sky.
I went online. Found the engine's operator's manual. Double checked the fuel connections. Followed all the starting directions to a T...
Nothing. The engine would not start.
It was now 8 am. I'd been trying to start the engine for 2.5 hours. I called Tom at home. I explained the problem to him. He calmly gave me new directions. Directions that were the exact opposite of those in the Yamaha manual.
Important: this tip might save you a lot of grief someday...
Tom told me to push the choke all the way in, and to turn the throttle all the way up.
As I said, this is exactly opposite to the Yamaha starting instructions, which are to pull the choke out and keep the throttle at the low, starting position. I mentioned this to Tom, doubtfully. He said, just try it.
I did, and the engine started on the second pull.
After leaping for joy (not a great idea on a boat), and telling Tom he was a genius, a genius! he quietly explained that I had flooded the engine. Pushing the choke off minimized the fuel being injected into the engine. Opening the throttle all the way maximized the amount of air mixed into the fuel. And that's what's needed to start a flooded engine: little fuel, lots of air.
I will never forget this tip, and if you have a 2-stroke engine -- even if it's on your lawn mower -- it's a good trick to know.
A few minutes later, the anchor was up and I was on my way again. Over my shoulder, I heard a howl of disappointment, and one angry crack of thunder from out of the clear blue sky.
I resisted the urge to turn and laugh in Nemesis's face... My three angels had beaten her this time, but I still had a long way to go...
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