TANKS FOR EVERYTHING, PART II; THE SAGA CONTINUES
Bahía de Caraquéz, Ecuador, Saturday, October 25, 2008

We are relieved that the larger of the two fuel tanks has been newly fabricated and has now been installed aboard Vilisar.

Amigo Felix did a great job on the welding; he laid plenty of material on and it was smooth and uniform-looking and there are no obvious problems that I can see as Wacho and I go over the seams together. Knowing what S/V Nine o’ Cups went through with their new tank from Galvinisados del Pacifico I have insisted on being personally present for the tank’s pressure testing. Sealing up all the plumbing holes and using a one-way vent, Felix and his son use an air-compressor to build pressure to between 60 and 80 psi, and then to use soapy water to go over all the seams and holes. There is, in fact, one tiny stream of bubbles from behind one of the eight inspection-plate screws (these are stainless-steel Allen bolts) and there are three other almost invisible bubble streams spread at random along about 3 metres of welded seams. Felix welds them closed immediately and goes over everything again. We make the screw-hole completely leak-proof using Teflon tape, etc. Inspection ports are a potential weak point in any tank. Perhaps for that reason, our old tanks did not have them. But on the new ones a steel ring is welded securely to the inside of the tank as backing for the screws, and the steel lid has been properly machined and fitted with an O-ring. The hole has been placed so that I can just reach either end of the tank despite the baffles inside; down the road, I shall get into the steel tank occasionally to clean it of any solid contaminants and the gummy stuff that seems to settle out of diesel fuel that has been left standing around for a period, or to mop up any water at the bottom of the tanks; a miserable, dirty job perhaps, but better and cheaper by far than pulling the tanks and replacing them again. Maybe I can convince Kathleen to do this! Hmm! Mind you, looked at realistically, I’ll probably be long dead and gone before these new babies need replacing. My kids can worry about that one if they want the boat. Wacho told me that, if I ever open the inspection port, to be safe I should replace the stainless steel Allen bolts and use fresh Teflon tape on them.

With pressure testing out of the way, Wacho and I go to the Maestra paint shop on Av. Bolívar in town to buy a gallon of two-part, Sherwin Williams-brand coal-tar epoxy paint. Black, of course. Felix gives the outside a good thick coat with a brush. A day later, Wacho delivers the tank to Puerto Amistad and we place it behind the bodega to give the coating a few days to harden and cure.

Wednesday, 22 October 2008

Five days later, Wacho and Mario arrive around 0930 to install the first new tank. Carlos ferries it out to Vilisar in the marina’s whaler and the guys get to work. The inside of the engine compartment looks a fright because of all the loosened and dangling wires. The galley cooker, now beautifully restored and functioning well, has to be pulled out again and placed temporarily in the middle of the cabin so as to get at the fuel tank’s securing bolts. After 35 years, all the unpainted wooden stringers and hull planks still look immaculate back behind the galley’s can-storage locker and behind/under the cooker. Like behind the fuel tank, a little grey from oxidation perhaps, but otherwise like new. No water stains at all to indicate that the hull caulking might not be holding up.)

The new starboard tank has been built one inch shorter (fore & aft) to permit easier installation. There is still plenty of shoving and shivvy-ing, grunting and panting, though. We have no luz (electricity) as the batteries are all disconnected, so there is no ventilating fan back in there to cool the guys off, and we are using flashlights to brighten the dark corners.

After an hour, however, the tank is back in place, the orejas (lugs) are bolted down tight and Wacho is busy installing the plumbing. You would think that putting the tank back in place is the big item. And it is, as far as the grunt-work goes. But a lot of time has now to be spent re-installing the taps and drains and diesel-return lines, the input spout from the deck, the primary and secondary fuel filters, and all the electrical connections (batteries, fuse boxes, voltage regulators, instruments, etc.; these have taken somewhat of a beating with all the moving around inside). We have decided to replace the ancient, rusty, can-&-cartridge-type primary water-separating filters on each tank with more modern, screw-on type filters. Starboardsides, the fuel filters are also a little more masked by the new and somewhat larger bilge pump; anything like these simpler filtration systems that encourages us to check and change the filters more often is good. As time goes on, this installation turns out to be longer than I might have expected, but only because I never actually thought about it much.

I can tell when we are getting near the end because Wacho starts to sing snatches of salsa songs, whistle intermittently like a teakettle and joke with Mario, his helper, or with me, whom he calls in a good mood, ‘Mi Gringito’. He had been a little impatient with Mario at times this morning. Now he still calls him ‘cabrón’ from time to time but he’s joking. Mario remains as impassive as a cigar-store Indian. He might smile ever so slightly and at times his green eyes might roll enough to let you know that he gets the joke, but he never seems to get upset and it takes a lot to elicit a real smile from him. Of course, he doesn’t move very fast either. His job is to hand the boss the correct wrench or pliers and help with the lifting when it comes to that. But it is Wacho who does all the fitter’s work and most of the grunt work. My job is just to be present, Wacho tells me, to make sure that he and Mario are actually working, that nothing is missing from the boat, to dig out bolts or tools or WD40 if they need it, to make decisions whenever they are necessary and maybe even to learn a thing or two. And, of course, to keep Wacho company. Wacho is always interesting though sometimes the other parts of the job get dull for me. But I have a terrific respect for the work they have done because I actually saw them do it.

Then Wacho gets to work on removing the smaller fuel tank portsides. The top of the tank is seriously corroded. Much worse than the larger, starboard tank. The vertical side
facing (abutting) the galley bulkhead was padded with a long piece of sponge rubber that has probably kept moisture next to the tank wall. Meanwhile the sponge padding itself has totally turned to a fine black powder that blows around in the engine room and sticks to Wacho, who is covered in sweat and oil. He looks like a moor.

With this tank now out on the side deck awaiting Carlos with the whaler from Puerto Amistad, and with the first tank now completely hooked up, we test run the engine and charge the one remaining battery for half an hour. Wacho tidies up around the engine and soon we are on the way ashore where we can display the rusty tank to Kathleen and the assembled internet users. Then Mario shoulders the whole tank and, barefoot, as usual, carries it out to Babushka, the waiting truck. Tomorrow will be an R&R day; anyway, the guys have something to do on another boat. But, on Friday, we will head into Manta together.

Friday, 24 October 2008

Wacho and Mario are in front of Puerto Amistad at 0700. He’s wearing shoes, but Mario’s eyes today are as red as a Minnesota roadmap; I guess he took the money I paid him the other day and celebrated a too much. He is a quiet guy at the best of times. But today, he is as still as death behind his dark glasses and he asks to sit next to the open truck window. Wacho laughs and teases him.

Wacho likes to get started early so he can catch people in Manta before they head to lunch and so he can be back by mid-afternoon in Bahía. We are also taking a length of anchor chain belonging to Bernard Schulz on the French yacht Rierol to Galvanizados del Pacific to be re-galvanised. I have money along to pick up 75 ft. of finished chain to pick up for John and Linda of S/V Nakia.

Off we head, bouncing and rattling along on the country road to Rocafuerte, Puertoviejo, Montecristi and, finally, the galvanisation plant. The plant is a nearly impossible to find if you haven’t been there before. Fortunately, I have. The actual address is Km 10, Manta-Montecristi Highway”. You can easily get from Montecristi to the traffic circle at Km 10, but you might still not find your way in. But, look for the good-quality, rustic (bamboo cum palm fronds) restarant about 150 metres past the traffic circle towards Manta; it will be on your left. Follow the dirt track to the left of it back in a few hundred yards and around to the right and up a little hill as far as you can go (don’t be distracted by a factory on the left with a blank cinderblock wall) and there you are. You will recognise it by all the old tanks and pipes around. If you get in a pinch, call the Galvinzados del Pacific on your (or the taxi-driver’s) cellphone (alternatively, there are also ‘Cabinas’ near the traffic circle). Telephone number: 098-303296. Luiz, the Gerente (manager) quoted me $1.35 per kilo for the galvanised chain. When I cleared my throat he immediately dropped the price to $1.30/kg. (and wrote that down in my notebook). Maybe I should have sneezed as well! The chain will be ready on Tuesday. Of course, Nakia’s chain, for which he has been waiting for three weeks, was still not finished. Tuesday, too.

Heading into Manta we scout out a ceviche restarant with an Italian name and had a great 10-o’clock breakfast. A big bowl of broth with a huge piece of tuna in it and some yucca. Then off to the welding shop to get the sheet metal bent that

we had brought with us from Amigo Felix. Thirty minutes after that we are in nearby Pinturas Zambrano (you can’t miss it; it’s near the Terminal Terestre; look for a big can of pouring paint on top of a nearby four- or five-story building) buying nearly $400 worth of paint. They have a really good cross-section of paints and a pretty knowledgeable staff and you can pay by credit card.

But, yikes! Hempel Olympic 86900, red sloughing, anti-fouling bottom-paint is $98 for a 5-litre can. Determined to get lots of bottom paint on in November when we go up on the makeshift grid in Bahía and prior to leaving for the ‘Coconut Milk Run’ across the Pacific in March, I swallow hard and buy three cans plus some thinner, a new roller and pads. Then I have to make a decision about whether to use porch paint or marine grade white enamel on the topsides. Or should I finally spring for the two-part polyurethane enamel (Hempelthane), also at $98/5-litre can. Wacho thinks this would be best and even offers to come and spray-paint the topsides. He also has a pressure hose. I go for it, and offer my now cash-strapped credit card, praying the while that there won’t be any trouble. Hah! Did it again!

A quick stop around the corner at El Amigo auto parts for one or two items (el Amigo is great for fastenerws; there are two stores, one is called El Amigo in Altamara. One last stop at the steel stockists around the next corner for welding materials, and soon we are on the way out of town. But, turning off the suburban exit highway and into one of those dusty, cheerless side-streets so typical of Ecuador suburbs, we pull up in a cloud of dust in front of a blank wall (also typical). Is it a factory? Is it a house? Maybe both? Or, am I being kidnapped? Wacho laughs, pats me on the back and says we are here to visit "las chicas". We wait until somebody comes to open the sliding steel gate. We back Babushka into the courtyard.

It turns out to be a small company called SETMABAS S.A. Equipos y Servicios de Seguridad Maritima (website: setbabas.com.ec) , i.e., an inspection and repair station for all kinds of marine life-saving equipment used by commercial vessels and the larger fishing boats. They handle RFD, DSB, AUtoflug, CSM, etc. They have been trying, unsuccessfully, to patch Wacho’s ‘banana’ (honi soit qui male pense).

In a large hall they have a Beaufort, 8-man life raft open for inspection. It was built in 1985 and should now be inspected every year. An inspection costs $250here plus whatever repairs and parts are necessary. I was a little surprised at how little survival stuff is packed by the makers; there is a first aid kit and some fishing hooks, of course, two little wooden paddles, some flashlight batteries, some hard rations and lots of individual silver-packs of drinking water. So, better have a panic bag ready when you are long passages!

The sun has come out and now we are headed home. It is only 1230. We are all feeling cheerful now; even Mario feels better. Halfway to Bahía, we pull over beside a roadside fruit stand at Corre Aqua, a little village in teh rice paddies, pick out mandarins and bananas that we eat while lying back in hammocks under a cabaña while chatting and joking with the stand owner. He cuts opens two coconuts, offers straws and we drink the coconut water before he takes his machete, whacks open the nuts and digs out the meat, which is also offered around, the surplus going into a bag for home use. Eight fishermen from Jamas up the coast were killed on a steep hill near Bahía last night, we learn. They were riding in the open back of a truck that couldn’t manage the tight curve and steep descent, lost control, hit the curb, careened off the road and crashed down a gorge right beside the garbage dump that you can see from the highway, he tells us. Later we actually stop on the steep hill to look, but cannot see any definitive signs. Despite the sunshine, the thought is pretty depressing. Wacho comes originally from Jamas, a fishing, shrimp farming and ranching town about 45 minutes from the ferry in San Vincente, so he probably knows some of them. By 1500 the metal tank components and welding materials have been dropped off at Amigo Felix in Leonidas Plaza, the paints has been stored temporarily at Hostal Coco Bongo (no room left on the boat!) and I have a beer in my hand at Puerto Amistad.

Realistically, the tanks should be finished and the paint cured by Monday a week and Wacho can install it. The pressure testing should be about mid-week. Amigo Felix has agreed to $150 for the finished tank (I have already paid for the materials). That leaves only the payment for Wacho’s hours to be negotiated. But, step by step, we are moving along.