We woke to another glorious day. Too bad we were barely able to crawl. Somehow we got the anchor on board. No one was up for breakfast. Correction, no one was up for fixing breakfast. Long about 10:30 we had brunch instead. I went below to inspect the engine and to see how it was fairing. Engine was running fine, a little too much water coming in the packing, but better a bit too much. What is that strange thing? Oops, that's the rudder cable, but its guts are hanging out. Wish I had a picture to show you. The rudder cable runs through a conduit. The conduit ruptured and was bent in a 90 degree angle. The cable was sneaking out of one end of the break into the other end. I knew that wouldn't last very long at all. We pulled in at 7 Seas Marina in Port Orange. I found some replacement fuel filters for the Racor there. The very helpful staff located me a piece of 1/2" pvc tubing, cut off a foot or so and split it for me. I bought 4 hose clamps and wrapped said pvc around the broken conduit and clamped it into place. I think I earned the McGuyver tag for that one. We also borrowed a pipe wrench from them to tighten the packing nut. They have a policy of not lending tools so they accidently left the wrench laying on the dock beside the boat. We found it and returned it to them. I offered them hard cash for all the assistance, but they refused. Gary found a store and bought some more beer. Does anyone see a pattern here? Another very helpful marina to add to the list. I'm impressed. We found some sail tape there and proceeded to drop the genny. Uh oh, this genoa is held on by a zipper running the length of the forestay. Funny thing, the traveller is gone. It's come off somewhere. No way we're going to get this sail back on, so into the sailbag it goes. Nuts, no more sailing. Phil claimed that last night's excesses had nothing to do with the fact he slept from about 1:30 to 6PM. Yeah, right. The engine had also died once on the way up so I surmised that maybe the new fuel pump didn't have enough output. I've since come to realize that the pump isn't necessary and that some combination of gravity and the injector pump will suffice. So I have no idea why it quit, but that was the last time it stopped. We put the old pump back on. A couple of hours later I was hearing a squeak. I guess everyone else was deaf by that time and told me I was hearing things. I couldn't locate the noise so I ignored it for a while. I noticed that the alternator had stopped charging, the tach was squirrelly and the temp was increasing. Stan went down and confirmed that the belt was loose. We shut the engine down and tightened the belt. Perhaps they will believe me the next time I hear a noise. Maybe we made 50 miles today.
Anchored somewhere near Daytona.
We anchored near a French Canadian boat, also named Wind Angel (Vent d' Ange). Of course I was still flying the old name on the stern so they didn't know we were sister ships. You'll have to click on the picture to see the bigger image and be able to read the name.
It was a quiet night and we retired early.