Waiting for the Zoop

Anticipating the return of the Capt, who is now in a rolly anchorage north of Puerto Vallarta, I'm reminded of the wives who lived along the East Coast in the 1800s and spent their time wearing a path along the widows' walks atop their houses, staring out to sea for signs of their husbands' ships.


Lacking a widow's walk, I jump at the ring of the phone or the "zoop" sound from my Mac that means I've received an iChat.  He has had good wifi connections all along the coast, and has contacted me almost every day to keep me up to date on his location and situation.


Ongoing failures, with both the electrical charging system and the cooling system, mean the diesel could potentially overheat or if the motor dies while underway, it might refuse to start again. Or both could happen at once, just to make things really interesting, especially since the seas are rough even though winds are inadequate for sailing. Inadequate for our boat, anyway.


Picture yourself jammed into a tight engine compartment, a screwdriver between your teeth and a wrench in your hand, troubleshooting a balky engine while your vessel is being slammed right and left, up and down by the waves. Ribs already sore from a previous 8-foot fall from a ladder. Sleep-deprived, because the previous night was spent pondering what could have malfunctioned this time. Such is the life of the single-handed sailor.


Zoop! Here comes an update. Aha, it's a broken quarter-inch bolt on the alternator this time. Too corroded to remove, so he has to drill a hole down the middle of it to get it out. Try that when the boat's being rocked like a cradle in the hands of a mad nanny. 

The radio weather oracle, Don Anderson, says there'll be no wind for the next couple of days, so the boat is going nowhere until the diesel is running.   Maybe I'll make some soup while waiting for the next zoop.