On Thursday, August 22, 2024, Michael and I departed Port Townsend dispirited and worn. Our planned trip began three days earlier intending to enjoy the San Juan Islands for three weeks. Part of the trip with our family, and in part accommodating Stan Keck’s family in a memorial charter. Like many sailing adventures, things did not go as exactly as planned. It ended after three days looking for a new engine.
On Tuesday, a few hours out of Seattle’s’ Shilshole Bay Marina, heading for Port Townsend, Michael noticed the engine temperature spiking oddly. Investigating the issue while we continued under sail, it became clear the engine was leaking water.
Circe’s engine sits ‘backward’ in the engine room. That is, the heat exchanger, water pump, pulleys, and alternator are against the aft bulkhead of the engine room. To repair, replace, or merely thoroughly inspect these parts requires removing the engine, a difficult task when tools are at hand and conditions are ideal, impossible while underway. Being closer to Port Townsend, and with the desire to stick to our intended voyage, we sailed on.
Once at dock and secure it was obvious the engine would need to be removed, a task Michael would start Wednesday morning. Circe’s Volvo Penta engine has six decades of use and spare parts are long since unavailable. The last time the engine was removed, in August of 2020, the water pump had stopped the proper pumping of water. It was then Michael bought the last known existing water pump and a few other spare parts including a head gasket. Our hope was the head gasket was all he needed to facilitate a repair.
By Wednesday afternoon, after much lifting, choice words, and some blood and bruising, the engine sat in the salon. It took only a few minutes more to know the old engine would no longer need a head gasket. There would be no machining, honing, or hand waving to restore the engine to service.
The devastating part is this being the second day of our planned trip. If any repairs were possible, we would have stayed the course. Alas, we needed to cancel, especially before guests began their travels.
Thursday morning. By 0730, nearing the bottom of the outgoing tide, we used the dinghy at Circe’s hip to slowly push us from the dock and out into the bay. There, we sat at anchor for the next two hours waiting for the tide to turn, the fog to lift, and wind to hold the promise of deliverance.
At 1000 hours it was time to move. Another hour with the aid of our faithful dinghy, we navigated the minefield of crab-pot buoys dotting the water between Port Townsend and Marrowstone Point, staying in the gentle eddy away from the rip of an incoming ocean tide against the resistant outgoing flow of Puget Sound.
Under sail on nearly non-existent winds, we circled off Marrowstone Island, waiting. At 1300 hours, with now favorable current and a weak breeze, we made our break toward Seattle.
Sailing is the art of reaching your destination without explicitly heading toward said destination. At our breakneck pace of two or three knots, we dodged a cargo ship on the wrong side of the shipping lane. Separately, the Coast Guard asked (rather sheepishly) to, “point our bow away” from an outbound Trident submarine three miles away. Finally, we met our tow vessel at 1800 hours. By 2200 hours, and a remarkably easy trip through the Ballard Locks, we arrived at Circe’s home at Lake Union Dry Docks.
The long day of our return sail and journey allowed Michael to find leads on a replacement engine and contemplate the necessary refit this would entail. With no availability of parts, an engine replacement was and is inevitable, if untimely. Circe sailed herself into a needed refit. Perhaps she was just letting us know it was time while we were still in manageable waters.
