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@AlexMemfis and a couple of authorised service centres suggested lifting the yacht to clean off the growth. Fouling might have become so bad that the propeller was working like a mixer, churning the water in circles. I wasn’t convinced. But if that didn’t help, the next steps were compression tests, investigating the injection pump, and stripping down a relatively recent engine.
I arranged for a neighbouring marina to do the work for €300, took a day off, and came down the evening before. At seven, I picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste, put on my waterproofs, pocketed my phone, wallet and keys, and went into the cockpit. Every surface was wet with morning condensation. I carefully put one foot on the pier. As I brought the other across, I slipped and fell backwards into the water.
After hauling myself out by a mooring line and finishing what I needed to do, I cast off. Another yacht approached, her skipper eagerly drinking coffee. Wet through and freezing, I envied him.
White haze appeared from the exhaust. My spirits sank further. My faith in barnacles slowing us down dissolved in those little white clouds. It could, of course, have been steam: it was cold outside. I reduced the revs just in case.
The lift-out was straightforward. I released the backstay, topping lift and lazyjacks, attached the slings to the crane, and went ashore. The workers scraped off the barnacles with a flat shovel and used a scraper on the propeller and rudder. Then out came the pressure washer. About an hour later, Rassvet was afloat again. I secured the backstay, started the engine and cast off.
What followed is hard to put into words. The yacht didn’t so much move as glide. The engine’s rattle became a soft, even, harmonious purr. At low revs, we glided along at nearly three knots; more throttle gave us the full 5.5. The revs themselves had nothing to do with it: still 2,400rpm under load and 4,000 unloaded. Is that happiness or what?
#maintenance #notes
I arranged for a neighbouring marina to do the work for €300, took a day off, and came down the evening before. At seven, I picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste, put on my waterproofs, pocketed my phone, wallet and keys, and went into the cockpit. Every surface was wet with morning condensation. I carefully put one foot on the pier. As I brought the other across, I slipped and fell backwards into the water.
After hauling myself out by a mooring line and finishing what I needed to do, I cast off. Another yacht approached, her skipper eagerly drinking coffee. Wet through and freezing, I envied him.
White haze appeared from the exhaust. My spirits sank further. My faith in barnacles slowing us down dissolved in those little white clouds. It could, of course, have been steam: it was cold outside. I reduced the revs just in case.
The lift-out was straightforward. I released the backstay, topping lift and lazyjacks, attached the slings to the crane, and went ashore. The workers scraped off the barnacles with a flat shovel and used a scraper on the propeller and rudder. Then out came the pressure washer. About an hour later, Rassvet was afloat again. I secured the backstay, started the engine and cast off.
What followed is hard to put into words. The yacht didn’t so much move as glide. The engine’s rattle became a soft, even, harmonious purr. At low revs, we glided along at nearly three knots; more throttle gave us the full 5.5. The revs themselves had nothing to do with it: still 2,400rpm under load and 4,000 unloaded. Is that happiness or what?
#maintenance #notes
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