It’s an odd thing to be startled awake by silence. Or it might have been the light. In the wee hours of a random Saturday last May, my phone had lit up and everything had gotten quiet. The fans had stopped. It had been the hottest week of the Spring in Florida; already surpassing 90 degrees several times. All week, I had fallen asleep to the gentle “white noise” of my boat’s interior fans. As I laid there in bed absorbing the quiet, it gradually dawned on me that my house batteries must have shut down. I crawled out of the bunk and lurched over to the electrical panel; the switches were all on but everything was off. I knew right away that the Battery Management System (BMS) had shut down. The BMS is designed to protect the battery bank from running too low, getting too hot, or being over-charged.
Standing there in the dark, I could also hear the faint whine of the inverter wishing it had some power. There it was: mystery solved. It had been my fault, of course.
I hadn’t meant to leave the inverter on all night. The inverter was likely going bad – probably some corrosion inside it somewhere. I had discovered that if it was left on for too long, like overnight, the inverter had enough draw to drag my house bank down. I have a small AGM battery that starts Ruth Ann’s diesel engine, but everything else relies on the lithium battery bank. Not only was I going to need power to beat the early season heat, I needed to get things done. In four days, I was supposed to haul the boat out of the water and travel back to Michigan. Plus, it was going to be blazing hot that day and quite warm for the days up until my departure. I didn’t know if I had killed my batteries, but I was going to need some juice - somehow.
I made some breakfast after the sun came up and developed a plan. It was Saturday and no buses were running. After cleaning my dishes, I rowed to shore and requested a ride to Walmart on Uber. As a former cab driver, I still kind of hate the “ride-share” business but it was necessary. After buying a deep cycle battery, I carried it in a couple canvas grocery bags, doubled up to carry the weight, and got an Uber back to the dinghy.
After rowing back out and heaving the battery up onto the Ruth Ann’s deck, I checked the house bank and it seemed to be recovering. I might survive this ordeal after all. The new battery was a flooded lead acid battery. My charging system was programmed for lithium batteries. I wondered if I could last a few days on the amp hours I could just pull out of the new battery. My solar panels couldn’t charge the lead acid battery without killing it. Reprogramming my charging system just for a couple days would be tedious and fraught with unexpected consequences.
I made sure to use very little power Saturday night. Late morning Sunday, the battery bank was doing even better. It was going to rain that night, so I covered the new battery where it sat in the cockpit. There was no reason to go back to town as the buses didn’t running on Sunday either. I hung out on the boat all day and organized my stuff. I would be taking some clothes and a few essentials ‘home’ to Michigan. I had sent a couple boxes north with a friend and had put together another box to ship. I threw out a bunch of spices and some pantry staples that would just go bad while the boat was in storage. All else that was to remain on the boat had to be properly stowed.
By the end of the day Sunday, I could tell that the battery bank was going to be fine.
Monday morning I rowed to shore with the new battery back in the shopping bags and the receipt in my pocket. I jumped on the bus and headed back to Walmart. After returning the battery, I bought mouse traps, poison, and a half dozen plastic storage bins. All that was more than I could carry on the bus, so I ended up in an Uber again. Back at home aboard Ruth Ann, I checked in with the boatyard to confirm that we were all set for a haul out on Wednesday.
Tuesday morning after a hearty breakfast, I hauled the anchor and started my trip north to Fort Pierce. It was sunny and mild but the wind was gusty and nearly straight out of the north, exactly the direction we were headed. We had to motor the whole way. I got past the North Fort Pierce bridge and dropped anchor just a couple hundred meters from Riverside Marina. It was to be my third time at Riverside. Back in 2015, I ended up at their dock after crewing down from the Hudson River on Eleanor, a Westsail 42. A year or so later, I had brought my Westsail 32 there from Miami. When I gave my name for the reservation this time, Sally in the office asked “Do I know you?”
Wednesday morning, I removed the dodger canvas and disconnected the solar panels to remove them. Late morning, I checked in with Riverside and then hauled anchor to head over to their slipway. Ruth Ann was hauled out and set down next to a gigantic Hatteras motor yacht. She would be well protected by this neighbor from wind out of the east. I worked a couple hours stowing things in the plastic bins, setting up the interior for long term storage, putting out the traps and poison, and promising Ruth Ann that I’d be back as soon as I could.
I had a computer backpack, two duffel bags, and a ukulele; hoping the airline would let me get away with all that stuff. First, however, I needed to get to the bus stop. The closest bus stop is about a mile hike from the boatyard. It was reasonably early, so my timing wasn’t critical. I hefted the bags and tested how I would carry all the stuff.
After scrambling a block up the hill and schlepping down Federal Highway, I checked the time on my phone as I approached the bus stop. There was just enough time to get something cool to drink at the CVS that was about fifty meters further. I dumped my bags outside their door to step inside. I had lathered up a good sweat on the hike and a Vitamin Water never tasted so good. The bus arrived and after switching buses at the central station, I only had to carry all my stuff across a parking lot where I could check into the room I had reserved for the night. All my boat chores were done and I could relax for the evening – I thought.
I took a shower and made plans to walk around the corner to my favorite Peruvian fast food place for supper, but one thought nagged at me. My brain had processed all kinds of plans and information in the last week or so, but a final detail was bugging me. It had still been fairly warm as I prepped the boat for storage, so all the hatches were open while I worked. When I left, I had buttoned everything up and locked the companionway, but for some reason I could not specifically remember closing the port side portlight in the main cabin. In my sweat addled brain, I thought that I could remember closing the forward hatch and all the portlights; except that one. How could I leave the boat for some months if I thought one of the ports was open? I simply couldn’t. I was so tired after all the planning and the work, but I had to go back. I checked the time again.
I had spent three years in Fort Pierce on another boat project and had even lived at the yard without a car for a couple years. I was quite familiar with the local bus schedule as it was five or six years ago. I jumped online to refresh my memory and to plan my return to the boatyard. I was headed home to make some money, to help the family where I could, and I didn’t have a lot of money to spend. Once I flew back to Michigan I was going to have to survive until I found a job. There were a lot of unknowns, but I didn’t want to “pony up” for a ride on Uber if I didn’t have to. The Fort Pierce bus system was free and if I hurried I could check on Ruth Ann’s portlights – for no money.
I put some clothes on and rushed to the elevator. The westside bus came back around and then the north bus took me back out to the lonely last stop near the CVS on Federal Highway. I had to hike a mile, check on the boat, and hike back in less than an hour to make it back for the second to the last bus on the schedule. That bus would get me back to the central station in time to catch the very last bus back out to the motel near the highway.
I can’t count how many times I had done this very hike when I lived here before. Just beyond the CVS was a Publix grocery, so even when I wasn’t catching a bus I walked the same route for provisions. From the bus stop, I walked passed the Grandview Motel; which was neither grand, nor had much of a view. A bit further was a coffee shop that had once been a popular neighborhood family restaurant. There was a stretch of wilderness that hid a homeless camp from the road, followed by a trailer park that had seen better days. Just before the road down the hill to the boatyard was a strange two story plaza that could never decide if it was retail or professional. The result being that neither retailers nor professionals could succeed there. Down the hill, I walked another twenty meters to the gate at Riverside Marina and past a half dozen boats before I turned into the forest of masts and got to where Ruth Ann sat. The rolling stairs were still parked next to her, so I climbed aboard again. She must have been surprised that I had already returned. Alas, I was only there to check on one portlight.
After unlocking the companionway, I climbed down into the already stuffy cabin. The portlight on the port side of the main cabin was, in fact, securely dogged shut. I checked the two ports in the head and then doubled checked the other three in the main cabin. All were shut. All was well. I had known as soon as I felt the closeness of the humidity inside her that she had been locked up tight, but I had to check. I climbed back out into the cockpit, locked her up, and climbed down the stairs again. My damp clothes fluttered in the breeze as I walked back to the gate, up the hill, and down Federal Highway.
I made it back to the motel, took a deep breath, and did some writing just for my own enjoyment. After an hour or so, I walked over to La Granja for my usual order. La Granja is a chain of Peruvian restaurants in South Florida. The one in Fort Pierce is on Okeechobee Road right between I-95 and the Turnpike. When I lived in Ft. Pierce, it was a special treat to take the bus all the way to the edge of town and have lunch there. Whenever I was back to truckdriving for boat money, there were two truckstops on either side of Kings Highway where I could park my big rig and just walk over to get some Peruvian food. That evening, I hiked over from the motel and got their Black Beans and Rice with a side of Fried Yuca and a mango drink. They had a small buffet with different toppings where I always got the garlicky onion and jalapeno relish to top my beans and some Aji Verde and Rocoto to slather on the yuca. It was a deliciously appropriate last meal on the Treasure Coast. Then I waddled back to the motel and slept the sleep of stones.
In the morning, I had to heft my duffel bags and walk over to the Love’s Truckstop where the Greyhound bus stops. Unfortunately, the Greyhound Station in Orlando is on the opposite side of town from the airport, so I had to get an Uber to take me there to get on my plane. My Uber driver was a pleasant guy with a nice Escalade who does Uber in between offering specialized “executive” transportation in and around Central Florida. I made it through the airport and American Airlines let me hang on to my precious Ukulele. And then I made it all the way back to Michigan where I hadn’t actually been for about five years. I'm still here for a while, but stay tuned I'll have more adventures soon.
I don’t expect it to be easy, but why does it have to seem so hard sometimes. There are plenty of people who wonder why I am determined to do what I’m doing; to live the life that I want to live. Nevertheless, even when it gets stupid hard – it’s always worth it.
 |
| sv Ruth Ann |
