Went to the yard today, and we saw that they’d put the boat into a slip. ‘Cool’, we think, ‘they must’ve been able to start the engine!’ We went into the office and found out otherwise. They had towed the boat into the slip, and the mechanic has found some really really major issues: water, debris and coagulated gel (?) in the primary fuel tank; water saturating both of the fuel filters (and therefore probably all the fuel lines, the fuel injector, etc.), and I surmise that there seems to be a generalized ‘funk’ hovering like a thick cloak over the entire diesel system. Great. You know, the engine seemed to work just fine last January – what is going on? (deep breath – Joe and I calmly look each other square in the eyes – deep breath). Well, we are starting to get a feel for this kind of news. We are processing all of this very differently than we would have a couple of weeks ago. Bill (the yard manager) says that Roger (the mechanic) is on the case and he will let us know more as he finds it out. Good. He suspects that all the fuel will have to be siphoned out for starters. OK. We drive over to our boat slip on the other side of the marina, and just stand there looking at Mojo. Poor Mojo, we think. We have dreams and hopes for us all, but it seems that she’s sick, just like Joe and I have been recently. We have to help her get better.
We decide to go to a quiet beach somewhere, and start crafting a plan.
- What known issues does our boat have?
- What things do we need to be doing for her/ourselves right now?
- What known things do we still need to purchase (budget for)?
We brainstorm, and write out some lists. All in all, we start to feel better – more aware. You know, the adventure hasn’t played out so far like we expected it to, but we will get there eventually. The whole problem with adventures is that you can’t control them – you only get the privilege of participating in them.