On the road again...eventually

The day started out
beautifully with our
breakfast buffet at
the Hyatt Regency
on the Savannah River.
Look closely, that's our Marquesa docked
below...

The plan was for Donnie to prepare the boat for casting off, disconnecting the shore power, starting the engine and whatnot, while I mailed some letters and checked us out of the Hyatt Regency.  We wanted to set sail by 9:00am.  The best laid plans are drawn in sand on a boat...Marquesa had other things in mind.

It seems our engine is cranky in cold water.  We thought a simple bleed of air in the lines would solve the problem.  This means Donnie has his head in the engine with a wrench of some sort, and I am at the helm trying to get the engine to turn over. It worked yesterday, so why not?  Oh, no, it was not to be.  Donnie changed filters of some sort. Nope.  Donnie bought oil and added some.  Nope.  Donnie did alot of scratchin' and thinkin' and came up with nothing.  Finally, after nearly four hours, he relented and beat on the side of the boat docked in front of us. (That's how boaters politely say, "hello, can you come up?")  This particular captain was nursing a hangover, well after noon, and could not collect himself enough to offer assistance until he had his cigarette and noon time beer.  (Skip the coffee, "It's five o'clock somewhere," he says.)  I take to notice that he has a serious case of the DT's (i.e., 'shakes') and I'm thinking, "Great, we've got a full-fledged alcoholic in our midst!" 



Meanwhile, I am admiring the passing boat traffic!

So both guys start the whole process all over again...bleed the hoses, check the filters, scratch and think (and probably belch), and suddenly it seems the fuel is not going to all four injectors, meaning we might have a bad fuel pump on our hands, and not a spare one of those on board.  So when all else fails, what does a man do?  BEAT ON IT!!!  That's exactly what they did, took the wrench to the fuel pump, gave it a few 'taps' and I'll be d**ned, the thing fired up!  And it was only going on 2:00pm. *sigh*  

Unfortunately, by this time the tide had changed, and we were bucking a current leaving Savannah, much the way we came in, at a snail's pace.  We had eight miles of this nonsense to get back to MM 576 on the ICW to really get underway.  Needless to say, when all was said and done, we only travelled 27 miles before sundown.  We hit a drawbridge just before 5:30pm, and the bridge master took pity on us and allowed us through if we "stepped on it."  Did the guy see what we were driving?!



I get a kick out of watching us go through these bridges!

As soon as we passed through Bascule Bridge, we found some deeper water and set the hook for the night.  Spaghetti, salad, garlic bread, and a glass of wine finished the day on a better note.  Better luck tomorrow!