It is the start of the 2004 boating season, and I am getting Lady Bea ready for another summer of playing on the Thames.  The normal tasks are in order: try and find all the bits of the engine I removed at the end of the past season during winterization, remember where they all belong, assemble them without breaking anything, and run up the engines and wait for something to go wrong. 

This year I over-tightened one of the raw water system bungs on the port engine and split it.  Of course, the split and ensuing water leak were not obvious until the engine warmed up a bit, so I did not immediately notice it.  This gave the raw water pump the opportunity the fill the engine drip tray with water.  The drip tray was nearly completely clean, as I do clean them out when I change the oil before winterization at the end of the season, but there was just enough oil left to make the water deposited in the drip tray unsuitable to pour into the Thames.  Such mistakes should never go without a witness to ensure maximum embarrassment, and in this case Douglas and Dinah Green (former owners of Hadley Star) were on hand to see my error.  Luckily, the local chandlery, Chertsey Marine, had the spare part I needed (thanks Steve) and I was able to recover from my mistake and take Douglas and Dinah out for the promised first ride of the season (note to anyone who saw our ride to Chertsey lock and back – Douglas was a champion water-skier, and he was only trying to ascertain whether Lady Bea could pull a rider on a single ski – this was not an example of gratuitous speeding).

At this point I assumed that my annual mistake was behind me, and there was nothing left to do but touch up some varnish, open some wine and enjoy the season.  Boulter’s lock went according to plan (even if the bottle of wine was somewhat larger than usual).  Henley Royal Regatta was likewise smooth sailing.  During Henley Festival, I noticed a recurring squeal from the port engine that I assumed was coming from the alternator belt.  The first tightening attempt does not solve the problem.  I assume that I have not got the belt tight enough, as the alternator on the port engine sits right against the floor bearers such that levering the alternator up against the belt then tightening the associated bolts requires a team of triple-jointed midgets.  I develop a cunning plan to use some rope looped around the alternator and then around various bits of the boat to get the alternator belt truly good and tight – so tight, in fact, that you can barely deflect the belt, which is arguable a bad thing for the bearings.  With supreme confidence I start the engine and…the squeak is still there.  I am complaining about the problem over drinks in the Star Craft marquee, and John Harris from Sea Melody asks if I have checked the greaser on the raw water pump.  My informed reply, of course, is…the water pump has a greaser?  John was right, of course.  A bit of grease in the water pump and the noise goes away completely.  At this point, with two mistakes in one season, most people would begin to doubt their mechanical abilities and leave the real work to the professionals.

Henley Festival is over, and we have a week to kill before the Thames Traditional Boat Rally.  Terry and Audrey on Etoile de Paris are keen to take a trip upstream with us to visit Michael and Andrea Mortimer’s (Carician) latest restaurant, Bel and the Dragon inReading, which located just across the Thames from the entrance to the Thames and Kennett Marina, and provides spectacular moorings right in front.  I have noticed that the drip tray under the port engine has quite a lot of oil in it, which even I can recognize as a bad thing.  When the engine is warm and running, I can see that oil is escaping from a breather in the bell housing (this houses the fly wheel, and is where the engine is coupled to the transmission).  Terry and I, with our wealth of mechanical expertise, assume that the problem is down to the breather installation, which must be pointing the wrong direction.  Of course, if Terry and I had any mechanical expertise at all, we would have known that the bell housing should be dry, and that oil in this area means a seal has gone.  But we do not, and when we turn the breather around, the oil seems to have stopped leaking.  Of course, the oil hasn’t stopped at all, but the leak requires a certain oil pressure and temperature to be really noticeable, and we did not give the engine a proper run-up before declaring ourselves victorious and opening a bottle of wine.  The next day we head up towards Reading, stopping overnight on the way near the islands before Sonning. 

Once we are safely moored up, I check the port engine and find that the engine trip tray is once again full of oil.  As before, the transmission oil level remains full and the engine oil is nearly empty (this should really be a sign to us that our initial diagnosis is faulty).  Terry and I are forced to admit that we might be out of our depth here, so I call Chris Holmes (Cetec Marine) and describe the symptoms.  His diagnosis takes about 2 seconds – the seal between the engine and the transmission has gone.  The oil pump sends oil right against the engine side of the seal, so when the seal goes the oil ends up on the wrong side of the seal and is thrown about the bell housing by the flywheel, eventually making its way out the breather (regardless of which direction it is installed).  Chris can come out the next day to remove the bell housing and the old seal.  The next morning we limp back to Fawley Meadow on the starboard engine.

Once we are safely moored up, I check the port engine and find that the engine trip tray is once again full of oil.  As before, the transmission oil level remains full and the engine oil is nearly empty (this should really be a sign to us that our initial diagnosis is faulty).  Terry and I are forced to admit that we might be out of our depth here, so I call Chris Holmes (Cetec Marine) and describe the symptoms.  His diagnosis takes about 2 seconds – the seal between the engine and the transmission has gone.  The oil pump sends oil right against the engine side of the seal, so when the seal goes the oil ends up on the wrong side of the seal and is thrown about the bell housing by the flywheel, eventually making its way out the breather (regardless of which direction it is installed).  Chris can come out the next day to remove the bell housing and the old seal.  The next morning we limp back to Fawley Meadow on the starboard engine.

Martin is an aircraft engineer by trade, so there is no lack of mechanical skill here.  It still takes another 6 hours to reassemble with similar grunting (Martin is of sturdy build, so again no small amount of force is applied).  It is Friday evening of the Thames Traditional Boat Rally.  We take Lady Bea out for a trial run around Temple Island, ensuring that the engine runs hot enough with sufficient oil pressure to test the repair (luckily the Environment Agency is not in attendance to witness our ensuing wake).  The repair is a success, and we have two working engines going into the rally.

For the 2004 boating season, I managed three mechanical mistakes.  Sadly, this is does not break any records, but at least the mistakes were less silly than previous examples, such as running out of petrol.  I did learn a few lessons.  Talk over mechanical problems with other owners – someone has certainly seen and solved the problem before.  Keep your engine drip trays clean so you know when a new leak has started.  Use professionals when you are in over your head.  Finally, open the wine after you have fully tested the repair with warm engines.