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We bought a powerboat driven by 30-year-old twin inboard GM 454 big block 350 horsepower Marine Power gas engines. Sitting atop the intake manifolds are thirsty Holley four-barrel carburetors. When the secondaries on those Holley's kick in at higher RPMs, it's like the proverbial "fire hose" spraying the gas into them. When we tell our friends about it, they ask if we are worried about blowing up because the engines are gas. It seems the world has gravitated from gas inboards to diesel inboards. Inboard gas seems to be sort of a thing of the past for today's boat builders and buyers. But not for Holly and me. As usual, I digress. My two daughters will attest to my love of hanging around boatyards and boatbuilders. I dragged them to many yards and builders when they had no choice otherwise. The picture here is of me chatting with Jarvis in 2013 at his shop. One of my favorite builders was the late Jarvis Newman. Whenever I went to Southwest Harbor, I'd visit Jarvis at his immaculate shop on the way into town. I developed a great respect for him and his opinions (he had strong ones) about boats and boating. Below, I'll get to the relevant points relating to this post. In her seminal work, Maine Lobsterboats, Builders and Lobsterman Speak of Their Craft, Virginia Thorndike included a chapter about Jarvis. In it, she wrote the following about Jarvis's engine choices. "Interestingly, Jarvis doesn't like diesels". Jarvis said to Virginia when interviewed, "People just want to hear the throatiness," he scoffs. "It's not worth the hassle, and the noise, and the cost!" I agree with Jarvis. And, yes, diesel engines can be noisy and need to be well insulated, or the sound onboard when running can be loud. However, our gas engines aren't exactly quiet. But the majority of the noise is behind us – emitted out of the four three-inch exhaust ports at the transom. Forward at the helm is not so bad, but when we start up at the marina, dogs run (including our dog, Becket), and children start to cry. Some of the adults – especially the sailboaters – shake their heads. This part is particularly hilarious given that Holly and I still sail and race and love windy days with a wistful longing to own a sailboat again... Breezy days are not ideal for powerboating but our gal is more than capable of a few windy waves. Again, back to the story. At idle, the engine sound is what the President of Ray Hunt Design, Winn Willard, refers to as the exhaust having just the right "burble." At speed, the burble becomes more of a roar. When I went to Westbrook, CT, to inspect the boat for the first time, I shot a short video with sound to let Holly know that the boat is not exactly quiet and what she'd be in for. When Holly played it, she loved the sound. Little did I know she was thrilled the sound was everything she'd hoped for. So, we got past the noise issue (except for Becket, who doesn't even like raised voices). The next issue with gas is the bit about inboard engines being like riding around with bombs aboard. Yes, gas fumes are highly flammable, and diesel fuel is not. That is why all inboard gas boats are equipped with blower systems. Additionally, CAYUGA is equipped with a Fireboy fire suppression system that is designed to go off if a fire is detected. Going back to the blowers, when Holly was a young girl aboard boats powered by gas inboards on the Finger Lakes with her parents, her dad had a simple saying. It is simply, "Begin with Blowers". We have a checklist for engine start-up, and after the sea strainer seacocks get opened (that always get closed when the boat is not in use), belts, fluids, and hoses checked, next is to switch on the Fireboy system along with the blowers. We regularly inspect the system and make sure the blowers are working and vented correctly. They are kind of noisy devices themselves, so it would be noticeable if they quit. In any event, with proper care and use, inboard gas engines are not, nor should be, bombs aboard, ready to explode and burn up the boat. A big part of the decision between gas and diesel is the intended use for the boat. CAYUGA is a day boat with a limited range. She is somewhat of a "creek cruiser" and not a long-range cruising boat. Yes, we might extend our range with diesels, but that is not extremely important. Finally, as Jarvis mentions, there is a significant cost difference between gas and diesel engines. We have been looking into options for repowering; the 30-year-old big blocks are getting to the end of their useful and efficient lives. It seems that repowering with remanufactured small block (same horsepower) engines, transmissions, and v-drives will cost far less than to repower with diesels. (I've done the research if you're interested in contacting me for some numbers.) In closing this one out, we agree with Ole Jarvis and love the sound and fury of the big twin gas engines. We always "begin with blower" and don't shut them off until the engines get turned off. You'll hear us coming! Safe boating – with whatever powers your boat.

We’ve begun with a few posts and are headed off to who knows where (someone in this household probably knows...). It might be a good time to back up before we get too far along, to explain our website's name and its origin. Where and why did we come up with “I Love Yachting.”? Well, in short, we didn’t. The phrase got coined years ago by Yachtsman Mark Myers. Mark is a longtime friend, and both of us have sailed many a nautical mile with him aboard his Swan 51, TONIC. Sailors reading this know there is a lot that can go wrong when sailing out in the ocean - stormy weather, crew problems or sicknesses, mechanical issues, and all sorts of stuff that is constantly challenging. I can’t remember the first time I heard Mark exclaim, “I love yachting!” I do know though that it was because something broke or ripped or some other catastrophe (mild-ish, clearly the boat is still sailing), and the phrase was emphatically voiced rather than letting out a string of profanity. I guess you could say, the aphorism is in fact its own nautical "profanity". So, that’s it. When something breaks, or you get unexpectedly doused by a cold shot of spray that runs down your neck instead of being blocked by the best gear you thought you had, instead of dropping an f-bomb, say with a big grin, "I love yachting". The second picture is Mark and a few us us searching for a suspected propane tank leak, which was the same trip as happy smiling Mark leaving the dock. It is an excellent way to maintain a positive attitude when things go awry, as they inevitably do (there's another story yet to be told about the inevitability of things going south). I use the refrain on other boats and have put I love yachting (can I stop putting quotes around it?) into practice as a former volunteer coach for the Naval Academy Varsity Offshore Sailing Team (VOST). I got the Midshipmen to use the phrase when things went bad to get them to laugh when it might have been easier to swear and complain. Bringing up coaching at VOST reminds me of a story about a huge I love yachting episode. Back in 2016, it was a Newport to Bermuda Race year, and I was a coach on one of the Navy 44s (I'll explain these boats more in future blogs). A lot of training goes into preparing for a major offshore race. The boat, DEFIANCE, and the Midshipman crew had come together well and were all set. About two weeks before the Bermuda Race start, I placed an order for team hats (I have a thing for boat-y hats) from Team One Newport. As part of the training/competition schedule (not all sports are in the fall or spring), the boat and crew sailed in the early June New York Yacht Club Annual Regatta, a weekend before the Bermuda Race. DEFIANCE got t-boned by a competitor on port tack (not Navy’s fault) during one of the races. The collision took the rig down and made a mess of the boat. Thankfully, nobody was injured. On a scale of 1 – 10, that was a 9.5 on the I love yachting scale. The boat was out of the Bermuda Race. At the time of the accident, I was in Annapolis, not scheduled to go to Newport until a couple of days before the race. When I got the news, I was glad no one got hurt. I was unhappy though at losing the opportunity to sail with the crew I had trained with all semester and so wanted to see succeed in a Bermuda Race. (the picture is a few months later returning from Maine passing through Rhode Island and stopping to see the boat on the hard) A day or two later, I remembered the hat order and called Team One to ask if they had gotten them embroidered yet. They hadn’t, so I asked them to remove the reference to the Bermuda Race on the front and leave the boat name. On the back, I asked to have them stitch I LOVE YACHTING! When the team returned to the Academy, I presented them with the hats. Ever the consummate Midshipmen they are trained to be, they mustered a laugh out of what was a very trying time. I still have mine and occasionally wear it. Now you have the story, the person, and the theme behind the phrase which was the genesis of what we want to share with boaters everywhere and give a forum for all of you to share the same. We can't wait to hear more I love yachting stories when things go asunder, particularly yours.

I am not a yacht service professional. However, “I play one on TV” sometimes and can do much of what the professionals do if I have the right tools and products. It's not that I have considerable talent for boat maintenance, such as hull cleaning and care, but I research and take the time to do it the way I want it done. For the marine industry, time is money. For me, time spent messing with our boat brings pleasure and the desired outcome – most of the time - the alternative may end up being one of those "I love yachting" moments. For Sunday afternoon's messing around, I decided to take on the professional challenge and wax the hull. Armed with some research, I can share that the lowest hourly service charge is around $60.00 per hour. My afternoon of "work" took approximately three hours. At Hinckley Yacht Services, at the marina where CAYUGA is docked, the lowest hourly rate charge is $75.00. You can do the math and even so, in the end, the enjoyment of spending time with the boat is invaluable, not something writing a check for can accomplish. My efforts started with busting out a bottle of Awlcare to coat our five-year-old Awlgrip hull paint. We had a fun outing on Saturday and returned to Whitehall early Sunday morning through a bit of spray from the morning's windy conditions. So, the day became one to show CAYUGA some TLC – specifically the topside paint. I was able to commandeer the yard's raft tied to the docks a few slips away (shhh, they do not work on weekends). It’s all but impossible to do a good hull cleaning job without a proper raft to give you perfect access right to the waterline. Knowing your boat's hull paint is crucial to getting the appropriate products and following the directions for use. Our boat was painted with Awlgrip (the color is Medium-Gray, a classic Hunt color choice) by the prior owner in March 2016. Awlgrip is an excellent paint and has held up well on CAYUGA. According to a marine industry website, “It’s a tough, durable finish and a forgiving topcoat.” While the paint is tough and durable, it must be cared for properly. That means using the Awlgrip system of Awlwash Concentrate to clean and Awlgrip Awlcare polymer to coat, polish, and protect. As an aside, I buy cleaning and maintenance products locally at Fawcett Boat Supplies in Annapolis. They have an excellent inventory and knowledgeable staff to help pick the right products. Awlgrip can get buffed. But the paint on CAYUGA does not need any more than some “elbow grease” with a buff to apply and a soft rag to remove. It is a bit of a workout, but downing a few ice-cold Modelos helps the process. It took me about three hours (and three Modelos) to finish the job. I cracked open one more beer and stood back to admire the clean hull and look for spots I missed removing the Awlcare. As the sun sets and light changes, places that previously looked good get exposed. After going back over a few missed spots, I decided it was a rather good job and felt my professional attempt executed quite well. I went home a little tired but feeling satisfied with the way the boat looked when I left her at the marina. She looked happy.

We keep on boating even when we want to throw in the towel and sell the darn boat. Because this evening she's the best boat ever. After a relatively painless slog through the beach traffic, I met Brad straight from work at the boat where I was greeted with a cold Modelo. We tossed the lines and did a slow creek cruise. Brad had packed a simple, easy dinner that we enjoyed afterward while relaxing on the hook in Whitehall Bay with a soft breeze on a nearly perfect July night in Annapolis. Watching the sun set and... Watching the moon rise. Time to head home.

I wanted the first post to be epic. Something vividly grandiose and special, well the heck with that, let's get down to business and tell a story about nuts. Could be the boating kind, as in me or my husband, but this time it's an actual piece of hardware. Last Friday our engine guru, Portside Marine, paid a visit to fix the starboard engine inbound hose from the transmission to the transmission fluid cooler. Brad went to a shop locally, Colliflower, where these types of hoses are made and ordered one appropriate to the task. Our guru proceeded to install the new hose and said to Brad, "Let's start her up". Brad turns the key and, "shut it down, shut it down" yells the guru. The transmission fluid had sprayed all over the place in the bilge (I wasn't there to describe this better). So, alas, the fix had not worked. Oh yeah, "I love yachting". For better or worse, we love our boats, but we do not love these moments, but we keep on boating. And, um, no, that is not a magnum of spilled wine, nor is it a filet mignon (?), as some friends have curiously noted. Speculation ensued and it was settled upon a previously faulty repair before we purchased the boat with the conclusion that the connection must have been stripped and hence why the nut had not screwed on securely. This would be a much bigger repair now with a stripped connection. This is a very difficult repair to get to - it would be easy to keep trying and get this wrong. This is on the outboard side of the engine, practically under it, and between it and the batteries, a nearly impossible space. (the picture is actually of the port engine and the guru is working on something entirely unrelated but you can see how tight the fit is) Well, now it's the weekend and we are not going anywhere. Saturday was stinking hot so we missed little. With dashed dreams of leaving the dock, Brad pursued the fix. He sweated it out under the awning to see if he could get the repair, repaired. With storms in the area, he had to abandon the mission. Sunday morning he was back at it and during a lunch break at home, he noted as calmly as possible that a sudden gust of wind had sailed the starboard engine canvas cover off the boat from its resting position on the coaming and down to the bottom. I am not OK with things that are not broken, getting broken. I nearly lost my mind for a minute then said to my so very apologetic mechanic-trying-to-be husband, that I can handle a boat that we knew we'd have to make repairs and upgrades to along the way, but geez, to lose a perfectly good cover... That said, it wasn't far under and a diver is almost always at the dock working on someone's boat, we'd just get him to pull it up. After a quick bite, Brad headed back to the boat. A little after 4 pm, I start getting texts, and there's an awesome video! Wow! He's done it! A shiny new connection not spraying red juice all over and the nut is screwed up as securely as he could endeavor to do so from hanging over the engine in a contorted fashion to reach this area from a different angle. Mechanic genius comes back to the house, cleans up, and we head back to the boat to have an evening cocktail aboard CAYUGA, albeit at the dock, just to make sure this is a real fix before we venture out later this week. We started up the engines and ran them for a little bit and yes, the fix seems fixed! And a little icing on the I love yachting cake? Brad was able to fish up the engine canvas cover from the bottom with a boathook while the tide was low.

by Peter Howard I don’t have the literary prose of my friends Holly and Brad; nor the good looks of our Captain Mark, but I’ll throw out a recent tale of events and break this string of nepotistic posts!! I was near the end of a crazy string of deliveries having moved 14 Hinckleys in about 22 days. It was a frenetic pace, but one I thrive on; returning home as late as 11:00 PM one night only to hop in a boat at 6:00 AM the next morning, off to who knows where (I guess I should know as the captain😉). This run of deliveries included some night runs and many departures where you couldn’t see more than 50’ in the fog. The more you run in these conditions, the more comfortable you are with these types of departures, which are often necessary to keep all things on schedule. I had just completed a delivery to Essex, CT, and was taking few days of refuge at my Girlfriend’s in Larchmont, NY. The call came from one of the Hinckley Service Managers in Maine (who usually have a good idea of my whereabouts) asking can you grab a Picnic Boat in Marblehead and run it up to Sorrento, ME? “Absolutely” is always the answer because I love yachting, and because I was running a little low on self-abuse. Figuring out how to get to Marblehead was a bigger issue than the trip itself as I was trying to line all this up on July 2nd for a July 4th departure. I’m not a “train” person by nature, so dealing with that mess was more taxing than anything. Planes or rental cars are second nature to me, but I feel like I’m in a foreign country when you mention traveling by train. That’s just me! But with a three-hour train ride and an Uber from Boston, I was in like Flynn. When I make a plan, it usually goes well, and long story short, I arrived at Eastern Yacht Club just about when I figured I would. I hadn’t packed for the weather, which turned out to be torrential downpours and howling winds. I hunkered behind the launch driver as we found my ride at the mouth of the harbor in what can only be described as less than desirable seas. How I got aboard without these two boats colliding is still a mystery, but here I was for the night as any thought of moving in the harbor meant going on the foredeck, and that wasn’t happening. Dry yes, comfortable no!! There were no boats in front of me, so I was the first line of defense to the onslaught of rollers and waves. There were times it was, in fact, difficult to stand. I did all the pre-checks I could and familiarized myself as best I could for an early departure. I made the best of the situation, hunkered down, and watched some Ted Lasso to lighten the situation. What else do you do? At one point I thought it best to see if I could get eyes on the mooring pennant. I knew I would sleep a little better knowing its current condition as it was getting a solid workout. Too much rain/condensation on the windshield ruled seeing out the windshield very well. The wind and the seas were at odds so the boat wasn’t true to the wind. If I could look out the port pilothouse window I could hopefully get a good look from 15’ away without getting the full onslaught of rain. I opened the power window just enough to get my head out, got out my trusted hi-beam flashlight, and Bob’s your uncle, I’m getting a good look and staying somewhat dry. Remember now how I said at times it was difficult to stand. Well, the boat took a major lurch and so did I, and in gaining my balance my hand landed on the actuator switch for the power window. You can see where this is going. No, I didn’t get stuck there but it was one of those “Holy Shit, that could have been really, really bad” moments. I quickly pulled my head in as I heard the familiar window closing noise, bending back my ears on the way. Man, that was close. I could only imagine standing there all night waiting to flag some lobsterman down at 5:00 AM in the morning looking like a drowned rat with my head stuck out the window. The next morning (July 4th), the winds had clocked around to the NW as expected which took the waves down but not the big ass swells. You know when I don a life jacket to go forward that times are less than desirable. Undone finally and underway to Gloucester, where my plan was to stop long enough to secure everything in sight, but mainly the dinghy and outboard hanging off the swim platform. I lashed the dinghy down, used a little Yankee ingenuity to secure the outboard, fixed a running light, found a generous cup of local coffee and I was off. I knew it wasn’t going to be a fun ride, but my plan was to stay within 10-15 miles of the coast and rule out anything more offshore. Basically, hug the coast but stay well enough offshore that I could cut some corners as I went. All went well, but my planned 7-8 hour trip turned into 13 hours as I was limited to 17-19 knots for anything faster caused me to become airborne off the swells. It was strange how the only boats out there were me and two offshore fishermen I passed along the way. You all missed a great day out there!! Most people would have been very uncomfortable in these seas (like, “get me the hell off this boat now”) but I wasn’t flustered at all as I know what these boats are capable of, and there isn’t another boat I’d rather have been on. The boat wasn’t bothered by any of this in the least bit as long as I kept the hull in the water, and that meant the aforementioned speed in these seas. No trip is without other incidents, and yes the autopilot decided to go on vacation after cutting through Fox Island Thoroughfare. That was well into the trip and it was missed the rest of the way. Coming into Frenchman’s Bay off Acadia National Park was wooly even for me. The big-ass rollers were now being funneled into the narrowing bay and the water had to go somewhere and it always goes up in the form of waves. The waves were now big even in my mind and my biggest fear was some sort of engine/mechanical failure. In this situation, I stayed as far off Acadia National Park as I could but that was only by a mile or so. This was the Maine coast in epic form; monstrous crashing waves upon the jagged coast, foam and spray flying about, you get the picture. I would have had 5 -10 minutes to figure out how to stay alive (forget the boat) if there was any type of failure as that’s how long it would have taken for me to be a part of the waves crashing onshore. All went well and there is no harrowing rescue to tell, sorry about that! I guess the moral of the story is: go to sea in a boat you know well and trust and be confident in your capabilities! Oh, and I Love Yachting!!!