December 1, 2022: Engine trouble and another long day on the Mississippi.
(continued from Modoc, IL to Cape Girardeau, MO)
I slept well that night, probably because I was not the least bit worried about the anchor dragging and there was very little wake. It was cool in the main cabin, but not nearly as cold as it had been the morning before. Cape Girardeau treated us to an amazing sunrise through the bare trees.
Dinghy Duty
I took the girls to shore one more time to do their business, then put away the dinghy. That was a bit of a project. First, I fastened down the oars, which were attached at one point to the oarlocks, with bungee cords so they wouldn’t flop around. (I later learned that I could snap them securely into plastic holders on the boat side to secure them.) Then I attached the boat to the weaver davits. Then I had to remove a manual winch from where it was stored in a deck cabinet, install it on the roof over the aft deck, remember how to use it, and crank the port side of the dinghy up to a vertical position. I’d done this just twice before, way back in September when I attended the Ranger Tugs/Cutwater Rendezvous on San Juan Island and then again when Janet and I inflated the dinghy and put it back on Do It Now in Chicago after shipping. So part of this chore was a memory exercise. Although I don’t think I had it set up exactly right, I got it to work. Once the boat was vertical, I attached the two metal rods to hold it in place.
I should mention here — possibly for the second time in this blog? — that I really don’t like the dinghy setup for two reasons. First, it blocks my view out the back of the boat. It also puts up a barrier between the dock and my boat when I back into a slip. Second, it makes it impossible to keep the 6 hp Yamaha engine I bought for it — which I still hadn’t used! — on the dinghy since my understanding is that the engine couldn’t be stored on its side and there wasn’t room between the dingy and the swim platform rails for it anyway.
I wanted a regular davit system with a lift, but that was something I’d need to explore when the boat was settled in at a marina for more than just a few days.
An Uncooperative Engine
We did whatever chores needed doing around the boat to secure everything and I, as usual, brought up the engine lid and checked the oil and bilge. Everything looked good to go.
The plan was to fire up the Garmin stuff, which must be started before the engine (for reasons I’ll cover in another post if I haven’t covered it already), start the engine, and let the engine warm up to at least 100°F before pulling up the anchor. The Garmin stuff fired right up, but when I pushed the start button for the engine, I got some half-hearted cranking followed by a beep and an error message on the engine computer screen.
My first response was, what the hell?
I tried several times with the same response. I found that I had to turn off the engine’s Ignition between tries or it just wouldn’t try.
I pulled out the manual and started troubleshooting. The manual led me to believe that I had some sort of network communication problem, which would be impossible for me to fix. But I went under the hood — there’s a cabinet in the bathroom that reveals the back of my helm instruments — to see if any wires were loose or burned. Everything looked fine.
I contacted Ted and Kim on Pony, which is also a Ranger Tug. They had no idea what the problem could be, but recommended that I contact their mechanic in Michigan. With no other options, I called the guy, mentioned Ted’s name, and told him what I was seeing. We did some troubleshooting together to no avail. He said he’d do some research and get back to me. To his credit, he did. Over the next hour or so he texted me suggestions and questions and asked for photos of what I was seeing onscreen.
I wasn’t done looking for help. Before I called BoatUS for a tow, I needed to try to get the engine started on my own. I called Green Turtle Bay Marina, where I expected to stay for a few days later in the week, and asked to talk to their maintenance folks. The woman I spoke to wasn’t very helpful. When I asked to speak to their Volvo mechanic, she said they used a guy named Zip and gave me his number.
I’d already seen Zip listed in Volvo’s list of area service centers, so it made sense to call him. I left a voicemail message. He called right back. He didn’t have answers for me, but he agreed to meet with me at Green Turtle when I arrived. I needed to update my Volvo computer system anyway and he could do it.
But none of this solved the problem at hand: my engine wouldn’t start and I was anchored about 200 yards up a diversion channel off the Mississippi River.
I started thinking hard about the problem. It seemed to me that it might be power related. After all, it tried to crank before it just failed and gave up. I remembered that it had taken two tries to start the engine the previous morning. Maybe the engine just wasn’t getting enough power to start?
I went out onto the aft deck and looked through the clear plexiglass window at the battery control switches. There are three of them: House, Parallel, and Engine. House and Engine are always turned on. Parallel, which is red, is always turned off. I knew that if I turned Parallel to On, it would join the engine and house batteries together, thus enabling all the onboard systems (except the thrusters, which have their own battery) to share the five batteries installed under the deck.
I pulled off the cover, turned the red switch to On, and went back inside to try starting the engine.
It started right up.
So the error message on the engine computer’s screen had been misleading (to say the least). It might have been a communication problem, but it was related to power. All I needed was to get more power to the engine to start it. Apparently, there was something going on with the engine battery.
With the engine running smoothly and warming up, I went back outside, turned the Parallel switch to Off, and put the plexiglass panel back on. I then texted Kim and Ted, Ted’s mechanic in Michigan, and Zip in Illinois to let them know how I’d resolved the problem. In my mind, it wasn’t fixed, but I did have a workaround that enabled me to get the engine started.
More Windlass Woes
With the engine running, Alyse got to work pulling up the anchor. Or tried to. I don’t know why I expected the windlass to work any better this time than the previous time since I hadn’t done anything to resolve the issues it had. I had to get out on the deck and pull the rode and chain in from under the windlass while I operated it. I think I had Alyse sit inside at the helm in case we started to drift.
The anchor’s chain had been sitting in mud and all that mud came up with it, so by the time it was stowed properly, my hand and jacket sleeve were covered with mud.
Needless to say, between the engine issue and the windlass problems and the mud I was in a pretty foul mood when I got back inside to steer us out of the channel.
The Cruise
I have zero notes about our cruise down the Mississippi to that night’s anchorage other than the time we finally departed at 10:50 AM and the time we arrived at 3:20 PM. I’m sure I was thinking long and hard about the two issues before me that were preventing me from really enjoying the boat the way I wanted to: the new engine battery issue and the ongoing windlass issue. They would both need attention as soon as possible, but I was driving into an area where there would be limited opportunities for getting things fixed.
I’m sure we passed tows and am equally sure we didn’t pass or even see any pleasure craft. The Mississippi River wound mostly southeast with a big gooseneck (or oxbow) right before the Ohio River joined it in Cairo (pronounced Kay-Row), Illinois. There was an island on the port side right before the confluence with an anchorage called Angelo Towhead at the downriver side of it. Although it was still early in the day, I was tired and kind of depressed and just wanted to stop.
I pulled in, watching the depth, and Alyse dropped anchor from the bow when I stopped. We were a little more organized this time, but Alyse could not determine whether the anchor had hit the bottom so my backing off was probably messed up. It didn’t matter much. I put out enough rode to keep us from drifting, killed the engine, and set up an anchor alarm just in case.
We had gone only 42 nautical miles.
At Angelo Towhead
I honestly don’t remember a thing about this anchorage other than the fact that it was nicely sheltered and we didn’t drift much overnight. We could see tows pass in the river during the day and at night. One parked across the Mississippi from us overnight and, with the slight swing of our boat, it looked as if he were moving when he wasn’t.
My girls did not get the luxury of a dingy ride that night. I was too tired and there wasn’t an easy place to get to shore. They had to use the “pee place” astroturf mat I’d gotten for them. I think it was the first anchorage where both girls did their business where I needed them to. Treats helped.
(continued in Cairo, ILL to Paducah, KY)
Sometimes you eat the bear, sometimes the bear eats you.
And sometimes it doesn’t pay to go in the woods.