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Aurora. Part 3. Aground, a hundred litres of water and diesel in the bilge
Morning at the fuel berth
On 2 September 2026, I got up at five in the morning. I had berthed at the fuel station in Klintholm the night before and now needed to clear the berth.
I started the engine. The wind was blowing from astern and pinning the boat against the pontoon. The proper manoeuvre would have been to use a bow spring to swing the stern clear. But I didn’t want to risk scratching the bow. I was also alone aboard and worried I wouldn’t be able to get to the bow and back in time.
So I tried to turn using the engine alone. While I was watching the stern, I missed the wind carrying us towards the rocks. They were only about five metres away. The keel bumped onto a rock, leaving the boat firmly aground.
The boat wouldn’t move in any direction. The shore was out of reach, so I couldn’t take a line ashore and winch myself off. I stood helplessly in the cockpit, wondering what to do.
On another pontoon, three boats were getting ready to leave. I tried shouting and waving my arms in a distress signal. I even got out my whistle. Nobody on any of the three boats looked my way.
About fifteen minutes later, the wind swung the boat round. I gave her some throttle astern and managed to get off without help. After that, I berthed uneventfully. The weather meant I would be staying here for at least four days.
The jobs list
The very first passage had already given me plenty to think about: what was missing from the boat?
The domestic batteries aren’t charging from the engine. I’m planning to fit an Orion-Tr DC–DC charger, but it is rated at 30 A. First, I need to work out how much charging current the alternator can handle. I may need a lower-current charger or a more powerful alternator.
Water is getting into the cabin below the forward port-side window. I need to find the leak, reach it, which looks like the hardest part, and seal it.
There’s no electronic wind instrument. I want to fit a masthead wind sensor and run the cable inside. While I’m at it, I’ll put together an NMEA 2000 network.
The engine produces a white cloud of smoke when started from cold. The manual lists several possible causes, including burning oil. Every item comes with the same recommendation: contact a service centre.
I couldn’t get the gas cooker to light either. The previous owner said the cylinder was half full, but the gauge showed empty. I swapped it for the spare and apparently managed to boil some water.
This is my first gas cooker. As I understand it, cylinders here can be exchanged at dedicated outlets: hand over the empty one, take a full one and pay only for the gas.
The tank with a rubber cap
On 3 September, I tried to fill the freshwater tank. As usual, I left the hose in the deck filler. Some time later, I discovered water in the cabin.
It turned out that the top of the tank was covered by a rubber cap that wasn’t secured to it in any way. The water had gone into the bilge.
I also discovered that the automatic bilge pump wasn’t working. It was getting power and making a noise, but not pumping any water. I still don’t know whether it needs cleaning, replacing or mounting lower down.
I had to pump the water out by hand. A lot of diesel came out of the bilge with it, spreading a slick around the hull. My own little environmental incident in the marina. I hoped nobody would notice and come over to tell me off.
I got the hose out and started washing the boat, spraying water around her as I went to disperse the diesel farther away.
After the first passage, I had been worried about how quickly the fuel was disappearing. Now I had another thought: perhaps some of it had been ending up in the bilge. Where that diesel was coming from was still a mystery.
Kiel had been 160 miles away when I started. So far, I had covered only 40. Windy was forecasting stormy weather for the rest of the week. All I could do was check the forecast every day and hope for a weather window.
#passage
Morning at the fuel berth
On 2 September 2026, I got up at five in the morning. I had berthed at the fuel station in Klintholm the night before and now needed to clear the berth.
I started the engine. The wind was blowing from astern and pinning the boat against the pontoon. The proper manoeuvre would have been to use a bow spring to swing the stern clear. But I didn’t want to risk scratching the bow. I was also alone aboard and worried I wouldn’t be able to get to the bow and back in time.
So I tried to turn using the engine alone. While I was watching the stern, I missed the wind carrying us towards the rocks. They were only about five metres away. The keel bumped onto a rock, leaving the boat firmly aground.
The boat wouldn’t move in any direction. The shore was out of reach, so I couldn’t take a line ashore and winch myself off. I stood helplessly in the cockpit, wondering what to do.
On another pontoon, three boats were getting ready to leave. I tried shouting and waving my arms in a distress signal. I even got out my whistle. Nobody on any of the three boats looked my way.
About fifteen minutes later, the wind swung the boat round. I gave her some throttle astern and managed to get off without help. After that, I berthed uneventfully. The weather meant I would be staying here for at least four days.
The jobs list
The very first passage had already given me plenty to think about: what was missing from the boat?
The domestic batteries aren’t charging from the engine. I’m planning to fit an Orion-Tr DC–DC charger, but it is rated at 30 A. First, I need to work out how much charging current the alternator can handle. I may need a lower-current charger or a more powerful alternator.
Water is getting into the cabin below the forward port-side window. I need to find the leak, reach it, which looks like the hardest part, and seal it.
There’s no electronic wind instrument. I want to fit a masthead wind sensor and run the cable inside. While I’m at it, I’ll put together an NMEA 2000 network.
The engine produces a white cloud of smoke when started from cold. The manual lists several possible causes, including burning oil. Every item comes with the same recommendation: contact a service centre.
I couldn’t get the gas cooker to light either. The previous owner said the cylinder was half full, but the gauge showed empty. I swapped it for the spare and apparently managed to boil some water.
This is my first gas cooker. As I understand it, cylinders here can be exchanged at dedicated outlets: hand over the empty one, take a full one and pay only for the gas.
The tank with a rubber cap
On 3 September, I tried to fill the freshwater tank. As usual, I left the hose in the deck filler. Some time later, I discovered water in the cabin.
It turned out that the top of the tank was covered by a rubber cap that wasn’t secured to it in any way. The water had gone into the bilge.
I also discovered that the automatic bilge pump wasn’t working. It was getting power and making a noise, but not pumping any water. I still don’t know whether it needs cleaning, replacing or mounting lower down.
I had to pump the water out by hand. A lot of diesel came out of the bilge with it, spreading a slick around the hull. My own little environmental incident in the marina. I hoped nobody would notice and come over to tell me off.
I got the hose out and started washing the boat, spraying water around her as I went to disperse the diesel farther away.
After the first passage, I had been worried about how quickly the fuel was disappearing. Now I had another thought: perhaps some of it had been ending up in the bilge. Where that diesel was coming from was still a mystery.
Kiel had been 160 miles away when I started. So far, I had covered only 40. Windy was forecasting stormy weather for the rest of the week. All I could do was check the forecast every day and hope for a weather window.
#passage
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