Oahu Bound

We're down to our last couple of days! Mark wants to motor in, but that puts us there at midnight, so Danny and I are pushing to slow down and leave the sails up and the motor off. I anticipate a Saturday arrival. We'll see. The winds are expected to die, so some motoring is expected. Just not yet. We've only burned thirty gallons of fuel so far, all to keep the batteries charged. The trade winds rock!

Is anybody out here?

I'm impressed by the sparsety of shipping out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Sailors talk about how inadvisable it would be to solo across an ocean. If this trip is any indication, I can see why those that do it are comfortable with it, even if they do have to leave the helm and sleep periodically.

In the three weeks we've been on this ocean we've encountered two vessels that were close enough to be seen. Both were roughly three miles away. If the crew of each vessel was asleep, what are the chances of collision? If we divide up an area with a 3 mile radius by the size of a 500' ship we have 3,100 places for that ship to be and doing the same, find 575,000 places for Quijote to be. If 26 of Quijote's spaces correspond to each of the ship's spaces we have a one in 22,000 chance of collision for each ship encountered within 3 miles. We've encountered two, so rounding off we'd have a very rough chance of one in ten thousand that we'd be run over by a ship if we crossed the Pacific solo and slept the whole way. I guess to be random the ship's captain would have to be asleep as well.

In fact Quijote, most recreational offshore vessels, and all commercial shipping broadcast AIS signals that raise the alarm when collision is likely. The chances of collision off-shore are much lower than our random geographical exercise would indicate. Not that I intend to do any solo offshore passages any time soon.

The final word on Genny

I have to say Gennifer has redeemed herself admirably. She went into the whole "dragging her head through the water" thing kicking and screaming, but once we got her settled down she has done the job well. We have two lines that restrain her movement and it took some time to get the lengths adjusted just so. The propeller cavitates a little when it tops out in the larger swell like Genny coming up for air, but the prop powers through and she's been plugging along error free for the last day and a half. Hooray for Duogen, a UK company. The output oscillates between 2 and 3 amperes, which isn't huge, but it contributes about 10% of our battery capacity in a 24 hour period. Does it slow the boat? Maybe a little; not noticeably.

Brownies!

Kay left four batches of Costco(?) chocolate chip brownie mix on the boat sans packaging. How long do you think those will last? No recipe? No prob. Mark messaged Carrie (Mrs) who did some research and came up with one. Egg, oil, water, mix, bake. Easy peasy.

Danny made the first batch, understandably misjudged the temp/time so they came out under done. The oven on this boat puts out some heat, but it's definitely a case of know thy oven. He put the pan on top of the stove to check for doneness. The boat lurched. The pan slid toward the back of the stove. I was too far away to intercede and his hands were occupied. The stove swivelled on its gimbal and we watched in horror as the whole pan of brownies tipped and fell behind the stove. Because they were under-done and not set, most of the batch left the pan and landed in a pile of brownie slop behind the stove. Well now, how about that? What could we do but laugh. And cry.

The next night I made the second batch, with extra chocolate chips which Kay also thoughtfully provided. This time they were cooked to perfection and stored where no spatula would be involved in getting them to our chompers. After a big dinner we enjoyed a brownie each and agreed it was a good batch. We looked forward to brownies for a few days. Do you feel the foreboding? What could possibly go wrong? Not what, who! We woke the following morning and Mark had Hoovered the whole batch. He left a 1" square so he wouldn't have to clean the pan. I have to confess to being a little incredulous.

Act 3: This time Mark makes the brownies. If you're keeping score I've had one brownie in two batches. The third batch was dry and a little over cooked, but we apportioned them out to keep them out of Mark's clutches, so we each got three large brownies and have batch remaining.

Thanks Kay!

Blue Bird Day

The boom box Danny brought is cranking out old people's music: classic rock. Loud OPM at that. Remember when Lawrence Welk used to be OPM?

I'm making water as I write. The tanks started the day dry. We emptied all 25 gallons stored in jugs on deck into the internal tankage. The watermaker will add another forty gallons if I let it run for seven hours.

Today is the first day with more than a few minutes of sunshine. The temperature is lovely. There's something satisfyingly tropic about the scenery. There might be nothing but sky, clouds, and water for as far as the eye can see, but it's clearly tropical sky, clouds, and water. The clouds are cotton puffs and the water is a spectacular midnight blue that you can't find anywhere else. They don't call this blue water sailing for nothing.

Moron Genny

The wind and waves were moderated today, enough so that we were able to disassemble the wind turbine from the generator mounted on in the back of the boat and install a water turbine in its place. The water turbine looks like a propeller but is instead propelled by the motion of the boat through the water. Its rotation generates electricity to charge the batteries. It's not enough to keep up with the full battery demand, but whatever portion it replaces means less engine time.

We've been running the engine a couple of hours every day to charge the batteries. The wind generator cut that in half, but as noted a few days ago, we were forced to decommission it for servicing.

We got a good look at the wind turbine today and found the gear box burned up. Hence plan B, the water turbine.

Unfortunately the water turbine hasn't proved to be as efficient as the air turbine. It doesn't spin as fast so it generates less current.

There are other issues I won't bore you with, but it remains to be seen whether or not we continue to use dear old Genny.

of Fish and Furler

We've enjoyed more fresh fish off the hook the last couple of nights. Both times dorado. Danny has a stubby pole that travels well, a good reel, and a set of colorful lures. He installed a pole holder on the stern rail and trolls parts of most days. The excitement starts when the reel starts to sing. Everyone yells: fish on! Danny then goes into his fish fighting subroutine: set the hook, reel, pause, reel, explicative, repeat until fish netted, flopping on deck. It's a routine he executes well. Then he kills the fish, filets it, discards the detritus into the sea and hoses the deck down with the saltwater pump.

Two days ago we had ceviche with scrabble. Last nigh's catch was baked in a pesto sauce. A large fish goes pretty quickly. We lack a good quality filet knife so good meat inevitably gets discarded.

Today we have the pole out sailing downwind with moderate wind and seas that we'll probably have for days. The pole usually comes in at night but otherwise we're likely to keep this sail configuration until we arrive in Oahu. It's comfortable and the wind vane handles it well.

We had an issue a couple of days ago that for a few moments looked like it might be serious. The main sail refused to furl. While working at the mast to resolve the problem, I discovered that a spare halyard had been drawn into the furled main sail, jamming the furler with too much bulk to continue turning.

Thankfully the issue was quickly resolved by working the halyard free from the sail without sending anyone up the mast. We were so thankful it was an easy fix. Furling the main sail is pretty essential.

curious sensations of little consequence

The first is that the front of the boat appears to be moving through the water more quickly than the back of the boat. If you sit in the cockpit looking out over the water while moving in a straight line it will appear as though you are slowly turning, traveling in a large circle. If you compensate for this effect on the ocean or in the desert by walking what appears to be a straight line, you will in fact travel in a large circle. The crux without instruments is knowing the curve one should follow to walk or steer a straight line.

The second, that my fellow crew members appear to take no notice of banging cabinets. The second corollary to the second sensation is that objects left to roll around will do so in the noisiest way possible. If we remove a condiment bottle or two from a cabinet, the remaining bottles will shuffle around to fill the space like travelers on a subway. As the boat surges and rolls through the water, the bottles will stagger back-and-forth, banging into each other as though they've had too much to drink. The bottles that hit the back of the cabinet will do so with a clack. Those that hit the cabinet walls or door offer a more solid clunk, while bottles that strike each other make the time honored clink. Add to this the teapot that slides back and forth crashing into the sides of the sink, the stove left to gimbal repeatedly banging into its stop, the empty brownie pan in tempo with the boat relentlessly races across the counter top to smash into the wall, then slides back for another run. The resulting cacophony is worthy of a symphony: El Phoenix del Muerte. I don't know how, but the crew doesn't hear any of it.

And lastly, it's a curious feature of this aquatic landscape that tendrils of wavelets appear to race along side the boat, independent of wind or swell. Like the dolphins that paced us further north or dogs that run along side the horse during a hunt, these little packets of perceived energy race along side the boat, some fading back while others race ahead. Quijote travels with an entourage of the mind.

Kay and Kevin on Quijote in Spirit

The weather can't seem to make up its mind. We woke this morning to blue sky patches, lighter winds, and blissfully smoother water. Great! I thought. We'll finally be able to relax a little. But now the wind and the waves and the rain are back. Who said this trip was going to be sunny? Tropics? Ha!

We stopped cooking in the galley yesterday. There's no reason to include hot food to the list of projectiles flying about the cabin. Cold cereal and sandwiches will do just fine.

We're starting to count the days until our arrival on Oahu. Eight days until showers.

Kevin and Kay (Quijote crew on previous trips): your names come up periodically. Kevin, the big bucket of raw honey that you brought a year or two ago has been slowly disappearing and widely appreciated. And the foreguy we added to the spinnaker pole has been working well, even though we no longer have a spinnaker (see last year's blog).

Kay, your imprint is ubiquitous. Occasionally I'm forced to meet a raised eyebrow with a shrug, but we are so thankful for all the thought that went into the non-perishable supplies and provisions that were left on board a year ago. It made this year's task so much easier. I just wish you guys were here to join us.

Big Water

Heavy weather overnight and for the day to come. The numbers don't really mean much. What do 35 knot winds with 30 foot seas feel like? The numbers felt a lot bigger on the way up than they do on the way down.

I was organizing "stuff" in preparation for a few hours of sleep last night when the hand of God reached out to smite us: a wave smashed into the side of the hull like a giant fist.

Thankfully we all happened to be well braced for the impact. We've learned to live in a state of expecting the boat to lurch in unexpected ways. Moving about the boat involves: plan, anticipate, brace, step, brace, reach, hang on, wait, reach, arrive, brace. Given the athletics and care involved in getting around, it wasn't too surprising that no one was hurt.

What was impressive was the degree to which luggage and other various objects were turned into projectiles. A large pile of bags, including a two hundred pound behemoth that Kay left last year, had been carefully wedged and tied into the recesses of the aft berth. The pile had withstood two weeks of pitching and rolling, but last night launched itself across the room with murderous intent. The bags and gear landed en mass on the very spot where I would be asleep a few minutes later. As they say: timing is everything.

We have been told to expect more of the same for the next 24 hours and then conditions should become more comfortable. Amen to that.

Genny on Strike

Our wind generator, affectionately known as Genny, is taking a well deserved break. I was just moments ago sitting in the cockpit and admiring her tenacity. Hour after hour, day after day, she has droned on, generating electricity from the wind. I guessed that eventually she would break a blade or a bearing. Almost immediately after thinking that, she started to make a loud hammering nose. "Broken blade!" I thought. But no. After shutting her down, careful not to trip overboard in my haste, I discovered the blades are all intact. So... It must a bad bearing. That's one item I don't have a spare for. Although I do have a spare blade - of course.

Genny is actually more than a wind generator. She's a Duogen, meaning you can change the blades to something more appropriate for water and then rotate the resulting turbine into the water where boat motion will make them spin and generate electricity. I tried it once before and found it needed adjustment. My plan, having made those adjustments, is to try again in a few days after the sea state settles a bit.

Generating electricity in water should be more efficient than generating in wind. We'll see. I'll report back.

Into the Weather

Today marked the halfway point on this leg of our trip from Mexico to Hawaii. We celebrated by using the last of our hamburger in burritos. We also retired the Mexican courtesy flag that was flying from the starboard spreader. Mexico was good for Quijote and her crew.

Tonight promises to be a stormy one after two days of relatively pacific conditions. We spent some extra time this afternoon getting the windvane set up just so, so we should do alright. Fingers crossed.

Night Watch

The night watch on an offshore passage can be a unique experience. It offers a ringside seat to the granguer of the sea, the weather, and a star filled sky.

It starts with the passing of the guard. Each is bundled up against the cold night air. Harnesses to tie in to the boat jingle as we move. Headlamps glow red to preserve our night vision. The outgoing crew briefs the incoming with a description of whatever has been going on, usually a description of the weather conditions, boat configuration, or anything else interesting. Then one is gone and the other is left alone with the night.

There often isn't a lot to do on the night watch. That's by design. At dusk we shorten the sails to slow the boat and reduce our exposure to squalls or any other unexpected weather events that can be difficult or dangerous to react to in the dark on a pitching deck.

The wind vane does all the steering, holding the boat at a set angle with respect to the wind. With that, all the watch has to do is, well... watch.

That's not to suggest you can see much on watch. You can see very little. It is pitch black when the moon isn't out. There are no other boats for hundreds of miles, no lights, no land. There is nothing to see but the glow of a few intruments giving you a sense of what is going on around the boat. They are a gauge to calibrate your other senses by: the feel of the boat's movement, the sound of the waves and the wind.

The winds are light, so we have the whisker pole out tonight. It holds out the corner of the head sail to keep the sail from flogging when the swell rolls under the boat. It doesn't stop the rigging and boom from clacking and clanging, but at least the sail isn't battering itself with every roll.

Sometimes, sitting alone in the dark in the cockpit, it sounds like someone or something is swimming around the boat. A wave slips, another one splashes. Was that something coming up for air?

There are also times when I'm sure I can hear conversations or singing just beyond my range of hearing, so close to being recognizable.

Then the wind picks up. I can hear it in the lines. The Genoa fills with a pop and the boat surges. The sound of water rushing against the hull gets louder and the rigging starts to sing. It's time to hold on. This little rocket is starting to fly.

Three Cheers

Anyone following Quijote's progress closely (https://share.garmin.com/SVQuijote) might have detected a left hand turn last night. We knew at some point we were going to need to get further south. We just didn't know how that would work out. Would the wind shift and allow us to take a direct path or would we be forced to make a couple of jibes and maneuver our way into the desired approach? With so much ocean remaining in front of us we were content to wait and see. Well last night we saw. The writing was on the wall much sooner, truthfully.

Observing the weather forecasts, it was clear that we were going to run out of wind pretty quickly if we kept to our path. Last night the professional weather forecasters following our progress removed all doubt: turn south or be stuck in calm air for a few days. So we turned and were rewarded with a wild ride through squalls on a bumpy, sleepless night. At least we won't be sitting still. The plan is to jibe back again to our original heading, probably some time tomorrow. Dipping south as we did, allows us to skirt around a ridge of high pressure that was building in front of us.

Three cheers for meteorologists.

Balance

With Otto on the disabled list, Francene has been taking the load of being our fourth crew member, the one who does all the steering. Mile after mile, hour after hour, our little Hydrovane does her job without complaint, without food or fuel or rest. All she asks is a body of water to dip her rudder in.

Oh sure, she can be a little temperamental in a way that Otto the autohelm rarely is, but what relationship doesn't require a little negotiation? We've discovered by working with her over the last few days that she doesn't appreciate having to work too hard. Her owner's manual emphasizes the importance of starting with a balanced sail plan: neither sail overdriving the other. We've found that our large Genoa can quickly over-power the wind vane making it difficult to hold her coarse, especially when wind speed picks up or the sea state becomes turbulent.

The winds have been fairly consistent over the last week, blowing in the upper teens (in knots) with occasional lulls in the lower teens and gusts as high as 25 kts. We have yet to fly full sails in these conditions. We reef the main to keep the crew happy, reef the Genoa to keep Francene happy and achieve a Quijote kind of balance.

The wind has been slowly clocking around from our beam to our stern quarter as we proceed west. This allowed us to put up a full main sail today for the first time. Our boat speed was at least 7 knots for much of the day, exceeding 8 at times. We don't usually like to go that fast at night though with only one person to react when things go wrong. So we'll shorten sail and slow this girl down for the night.

Quijote's Fix it Man

We woke this morning to Danny's report that the propane circuit breaker was tripping, so that was the first order of business: replacing the propane solenoid valve. I had to do it once before a couple of years ago, so I'm not sure why it didn't last longer than that. Mark was impressed that I had a spare. Thank goodness I did. It would have been a game changer to lose our stove.

Later in the day Mark leaned against the dodger and tore the stitching out along one side. It all has to be hand stitched to get it back in working order. The Dodger is a necessary system. It keeps us from getting soaked by sea spray while on watch, or any time we're in the cockpit. Quijote, like her owner is showing her age.

So... there has been plenty to do today. Lighter wind too for much of it, so it was a good day to have work to do.

-----Original Message-----
From: "Tina Nef" <tinanef@aol.com>
Sent: Sun, 14 Mar 2021 17:00:51 -0700
Subject: Re: Brake light

Sent from my iPhone

> On Mar 13, 2021, at 15:35, Roderick Mercer <rgmercer@myiridium.net> wrote:
>

Big Winds make Big Waves

It's really been snorting in the Pacific the last few days. This has impact on our trip beyond the obvious. Big wind means big waves. When big waves come rolling down the deck I had hoped Quijote would prove to be as water tight as she has proven to be on rainy days. Such hopes have been dashed by many small places of water intrusion. I guess green water rolling down the deck is more persuasive than rain. An indication of just how persuasive came when we checked the bilge and found more than a foot of water sloshing around under the floorboards. I'm not accustomed to finding any water in the bilge, so I've been somewhat cavalier about checking for it. Lesson learned. I also learned that my manual bilge pump doesn't work. Hmm... It worked well last year. Quijote also has been equipped with an emergency bilge pump, but for whatever reason, it's not designed to kick in until the water is deeper than it was today. It's probably a desire to keep the pump from ingesting whateve
r garbage finds its way into the bilge.

We had a quandary: how to remove all that water. The boat has several pumps onboard intended for other purposes. There's a fresh water pump (and spare), a deck wash pump, two foot pumps in the galley, and a shower sump pump. The latter turned out to be most suitable. It was designed for a more similar purpose and has an easily accessible inlet. We Mcgivered a couple of spare hoses together, fired up the pump, and fifteen minutes later the bilge water was all overboard. As successful as that was, when we get to Hawaii, I think I'll invest in a hand pump - and maybe a T for the shower pump inlet.

Another impact of the strong winds and big waves is that we've been able to generate as much electricity from the wind generator as we've been using. That's keeping the batteries full up without using the engine to keep them charged. Fewer engine hours is good for the engine and consumes less diesel. It's good for the environment too! One downside that came out of all that extra electricity is that we were more inclined to use the autohelm, which uses electricity and is easier to use, than the wind vane which is more challenging to manage but uses no power. In so doing, and because Otto has been working so hard, we used up his lifespan. It has the sound and feel of having failed berrings. We've ordered a new autohelm drive that will be waiting for us in Hawaii.

Without Otto, we been using the Hydrovane wind vane for self steering. Mark calls her Francene. More on Francene next time.

A Busy Day

Our first full day on the open ocean was a busy one. We made 132 miles over the 24 hour period and have already needed to fix a few things along the way.

To begin with Mark has been complaining that the hatch above his head in the v-birth leaks water all over him whenever the bow gets hit by a big wave, which is to say constantly. We tried lubricating the hatch seals without much effect. In the end we were able to smother the leak with a tube of silicon adhesive. It looks about as bad as you'd expect, but I'll do a proper job of fixing the problem when I get home.

The next problem to surface was when a huge wave lifted the anchor off it's track and deposited it over the side where it dangled, banging into the side of the hull. The blocks of wood I carefully crafted to secure the anchor were tossed into the sea. Danny and I rushed forward, pulled the anchor up onto the pitching deck and lashed it in place before it could do serious damage. It's back to the drawing board on rough water anchor security. Not that we're likely to use an anchor on this trip

With a little time left in the afternoon, we decided to do some work in the galley. The sink drain was blocked, leaving gray water sloshing. after disassembling the drain assembly, we extracted a huge volume of coagulated oil and other yucky stuff with the end of a coat hanger. Gross.

A fine afternoon's work Quijote Crew!

----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com

Roughly in the Right Direction

It took us 26 hours to motor to Cabo San Lucas from Las Paz in wind too light to do any sailing. When it did finally build it was in our faces. So we kept on motoring and arrived at the Cabo fuel dock shortly before 5 PM.

With 150 gallons of fuel in our tanks, we set off into the waning light. The advice of the professional weather forecaster hired by Mark before leaving was to aim for a lat / lon of 18° north 120 west. So we created a waypoint on the plotter at that point and pointed the boat toward it. The strategy was to dip south into the trade winds before proceeding west to Hawaii, approaching from the southwest.

The problem with that strategy was that it immediately put the wind in our faces again. The wind was at our nose and blowing hard. The seas were uncomfortable. It felt like the weather was constantly feeding us crap. We couldn't keep using the engine or we'd quickly run out of fuel. We didn't know what to do. Cabo was receding behind us as we pondered the question.

Suddenly dinner sounded like a good idea. Maybe if we had something to eat while we motored away from the influence of the Baja land mass, the wind would rotate from a better direction.

After dinner things did start to look a little better, enough to pull out the sails and shut down the engine. We were still going farther south than we would have liked, but at least we weren't burning fuel.

Next up was to manage our electrical consumption. We shut down much of our electronics and fired up the wind generator, which stanched the outflow of battery power. With that, we sailed into the night, crashing into waves at a reasonable pace and in roughly the right direction.

----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com

Finally off!

I hired an agent to help me with the closing formalities, allowing us out of Mexico. I was so thankful I did. She wound her way through the bureaucracy deftly and saved us a lot of time and effort. Even so the effort was not without its uncertainties. Customs, Immigration, and Health are three different departments requiring paperwork. Immigration was the only department that actually came to the boat to see us off, but we were told to look out for customs. They never showed up. Our appointment with the immigration officer was rescheduled a couple of times waiting for his arrival while we were unable to leave the boat. Eventually he did arrive and the process was relatively painless. He was friendly and efficient, thanks to the paperwork all being filled out properly by the agent.

Propane tanks were filled, external water tanks were lashed to the deck and filled, last minute insurance snafus we're sorted out, and finally we were allowed to be be on our way.

Trip down the eastern Baja coastline was blissfully anti-climactic. Without much wind to speak of, we motored through the night and have arrived at Cabo to fill our fuel tanks and get a final weather forecast before pushing off into the ocean.

Motoring into Dawn

External fuel tanks lashed and ready to fill.

All Home Depot stores look the same

Danny carries our new propane tank to the checkstand.

Cruising La Paz Walmart

Mark looking for a deal.

Pre-departure Details

Time is winding down. At least we hope it is. If all goes well we'll be departing for Hawaii on Monday morning. Two things have to happen for that to happen: first the insurance policy has to come through. That is by no means certain. It's been like pulling teeth to get coverage for some reason. I really don't know why it's so difficult. The agent I usually use appeared relieved when I told him we were going to try another company after he failed to find anything for us after a couple of weeks of trying. The current policy is good for less than 200 miles offshore. If the policy for the ocean crossing falls through we will have no recourse but to bash our way up the coast line. I wouldn't mind self insuring but the bank will have none of that.

The other thing we have to do to be ready to leave on Monday morning is finish provisioning. We saved that job until the last minute so all the perishables will last, or at least last longer.

So while Quijote crew finalized last minute details, Quijote herself waits patiently to get going. She is squeaky clean and looking good.

Quijote Meets the Crew

It's been a busy three days here in Marina de La Paz. A lot goes into preparing for an open ocean passage. Equipment, food, fuel, water, baggage and figuring out where to put it all. Quijote normally carries 90 gallons of fuel and 110 gallons of water in her tanks. Mark wants to carry half again that much of each, which means tying jugs onto the deck. And where do we get 10 five gallon fuel jugs? Where do we store all that extra water? Where there’s a will there’s a way. The last time this crew crossed the Pacific, they arrived with an empty water tank, so I can hardly blame them for their caution. 

Granted Quijote has a watermaker to desalinate sea water, but water makers are notoriously unreliable. This one has cost me many more hours of maintenance than hours of production. It was working when we used it last year, but will it work when we need it this year? Time will tell. 

In the mean time: who's in the market for 10 five gallon fuel jugs when we get to Seattle?

 

Quijote on the road again

They removed the front row boat to get Quijote out

 of the middle row. It took them about an hour. 

Loaded and ready to go

Working in La Paz

Yesterday was a travel day, today a work day. Tomorrow I'll go boating. Fun! Granted it will be a short trip to the marina, but even so it will feel so good to be back on the water at the helm of SV Quijote. It'll be weird being on board all by myself.

The wind was really whipping today. It's supposed to settle down tomorrow thankfully. It's no fun trying to navigate around million dollar boats in gusty side-winds.

It was a productive day on board SVQ. Mark called at one point and I told him it is a good thing he isn't coming until Wednesday. I was up to my elbows in piles of stuff, trying to get it all sorted.

I discovered that most of the grain based foods purchased last year to take us through the South Pacific were infested with bugs. I had to dispose of a lot of pancake mix, oatmeal, nuts, cereals, etc. Bags and bags of it. It will be good to reprovision with fresh food anyway, but what a waste.

I've also discovered that the plastic containers engine oil comes in don't withstand pressure changes well. I had several of them onboard for oil changes. It seems that weather blows through and the atmospheric pressure changes cause the containers to expand and collapse, which creates stress cracks and oil leaks. What a mess.

I'm looking forward to getting to the marina tomorrow. Quijote will finally get a bath.