2019: 5 Minutes of Terror at 7 mile bridge

3/15/2019 - Fuel Tank Calibration

It was 1:00 after a somewhat lazy morning, and I was chilling with my electronic crossword puzzle application on my tablet. We had dinner plans for this evening scheduled for 5:30. I looked forward to more idle time. Clark had other ideas on his mind.

Clark interrupted my "play time" with the announcement that we were taking the boat to Marathon Marina for refueling and fuel-tank monitor calibration. Before we could go, however, he needed my laptop to do preparation work and he had to call the fuel dock to get their agreement that we could come and "hang out", i.e. sit at their dock, for an extended period of time.

Just before 2:00 he says he has permission from the dock to come and stay for however long it takes to complete our calibration work. From the experience of Clark transferring fuel tank-to-tank when he installed the fuel tank monitors, I know it takes a long time to complete the task. I argued that we would not have time to get there, "play" around, and get back by 5:30 for our dinner plans. I lost the argument, and we set out at 2:15 to go get fuel.

To reduce travel time to the fuel dock by about 45 minutes each way, Clark decided to lower our mast and go under the 7-mile bridge. Using Moser Channel, where we should take a boat our size, would take too long. Having scooted under the bridge in December on our way to Faro Blanco from Bahia Honda State Park, we knew it was possible for us to do so.

However, as we approached the bridge, I said, "It doesn't look like we can make it under." Clark checked the chart and confirmed it has a 19' vertical clearance at high tide. Then he looked up and had a closer look at the bridge. Workers had strung protective netting the length of the old 7-mile bridge, and the netting sagged below the bridge reducing the vertical clearance. From a distance it was impossible to tell by how much, so Clark inched up on the bridge to check it out.

New 7-mile bridge on left, old on right
(older picture with no netting added)

On the bright side, we had a rather rapid current coming at us from the bridge, so if we needed to, we could back up in a hurry. As Clark approached the bridge, I studied the setup. I envisioned the solar panels on top of our boat snagging the netting, pulling down the construction platform from above us, and seriously injuring or killing the two workmen doing repair work on the bridge.

As Clark toyed with the idea of going under the bridge in spite of the obstacles presented to us, he used hand signals to ask one of the workers if he thought we could make it under. The worker, in response, used wide, sweeping hand signals back indicating that we clearly needed to take "Moser Channel".

Aerial view of 7-mile bridge
(Note missing section of old bridge on left and
raised section of new on right
for big, taller boats to pass safely)

Thankfully, Clark backed off from the bridge, and I sighed a sigh of relief. As he backed away, he said, "Let's try further along." Happy to at least not be killing any innocent workers today, I agreed to that plan. We found a place further along the bridge where the net was pulled up tighter to the bridge, no strings or metal thingies hung down from the netting, and no men were at risk of dying. Here, Clark decided to "go for it" once again.

Approaching the bridge to scope it out, Clark says, "Sight it and see if we can make it." To properly "sight it" I would have to stand on top of the seat back and peer over the top of the boat. Clark can manage this, but I cannot. My legs are not long enough as the seat back is as tall as my leg. I would at least need a steps tool. We had no time. We traded places. Clark gave me the helm and he climbed up on the chair.

From his perch I could hear him saying, "I think we can make it." While I, in a near state of panic, wrestled with the non-responding helm. Although I steered hard to port, the boat quickly traveled in the rapid current towards the cement bridge supports to starboard. Heart racing, I yelled, "Clark get up here. I can't control the boat. She needs more throttle!"

Clark took over the helm and told me to take over the sighting job. From my lower vantage point, I did not have the bird's eye view he had, but I could tell him if it looked like disaster would strike as we passed under the bridge. We heard no crash. Looking up as we passed under, I guessed we had about 6 inches of clearance over the hard top, which meant we had even less than that over our solar panels. We easily sailed under the new 7-mile bridge by at least 10 or 12", so we were good to continue on to fueling.

When we arrived at Marathon Marina, they had no customers, knew we were coming, and allowed us to pull up to their fast fuel pump to work on our project. As we came in, we had a very strong current pushing us away from the dock.  I threw a mid-ship and a stern line to the dockhand. By the time I walked up to the bow to throw the bow line, the front was well away from the dock.

I told Clark to use the bow thruster to assist. Apparently, "Mr. Macho Man" on the dock took exception to my thinking he might need any help bring a 40,000 pound boat into the dock. He kept yelling at me, "I can do it." I guess the idea that I thought he needed help annoyed him.

After he got that one secured, I asked if he could tighten the stern line so I could get off the boat. He pulled as hard as he could but the current fought him all the way. He got the line around the cleat in the ugliest wrap I have ever seen. It looked to me like he thought it was tied off. I could see the line pulling its way through the cleat as we slipped further and further away from the dock.

I said, "That's not a cleat hitch." Now I really pissed him off. "I know that Mam!" he said. I threw up my hands and walked away. Unfortunately, I muttered, "Well it's not." as I walked away and he heard me. If looks could kill, ... Oh dear. It is never a good idea to severely annoy someone who is doing you a favor. Fortunately, for me, he did not tell us to get lost. Once we got past the tying up, he handed us the fuel pump hose and walked away.

The plan for doing fuel tank calibration was the following ...

    1 - Move all remaining fuel from the starboard tank to the port tank using the fuel polishing system
    2 - Record the empty tank number of Milliamps
    3 - Start pumping fuel into the 350 gallon tank
    4 - Stop every 25 gallons to record the Milliamps
    5 - At 300 gallons on the starboard side, fill port side tank to full
    6 - Return to starboard side to continue fueling and recording milliamps every 25 gallons

Step number one takes a bit of time. As Clark set the process in motion, I went back to my electronic crossword puzzles. He gave me periodic updates on degree of emptiness of the starboard tank. When it finally approached empty, it was almost 3:30. We figured we had about one hour to do all we needed to do and get back to Faro Blanco for our 5:30 commitment.

My job, and why I needed to get off the boat, was to call out the gallons as they flew by on the pump. Thank goodness it was a very fast pump. As we approached each 25 gallon mark, I would tell Clark to slow it down so we wouldn't overshoot. Our work went smoothly, we finished around 4:40 (10 minutes over) with two very full tanks, and we learned that our 350 gallon tanks take 335 gallons of diesel fuel. We left the dock to head back to Faro Blanco about $1300 lighter in the pocket.

The whole point of this installation and calibration exercise was to make it such that when we look at the fuel gauges, they show something other than empty 100% of the time. With the completion of this time-consuming task, we now have the data required to calibrate the fuel guages! The gauges were there but not working because the fuel-measuring device was never installed, and the wiring and calibration were never done to make use of them. Yay Clark! Now he will no longer have to climb into the hot engine room multiple times on every fill up to see how much more fuel we need to add as we are fueling.

To get back to the marina on time, we once again had to pass under the dreaded 7-mile bridges. We took careful note of the opening we had used earlier and pointed ourselves for that same spot - two openings south of the 35 mph street sign on the roadway above! As we approached the bridge, I thought, "We made it before so we should make it under again." Given how close we were to the bridge on the way out, I figured it must have been near high tide two hours ago. Right? Sadly, no, the water had risen even higher while we fueled.

Trusting that we could make it under, Clark proceeded at the helm while I did my best to observe from behind the full enclosure. As we went under the new 7-mile bridge, it looked okay - less than we had on the way out but still okay. My best estimate as we passed under the netting of the old 7-mile bridge is that we had about 4 inches of clearance over the hard top, and consequently, less than that over our $5000 solar panels. Phew!

When we got back to the dock at Faro Blanco, Clark was beyond pleased. We got in our weekly maintenance run, we have full fuel tanks for our trip north, and we have the data required for a calibrated fuel gauge. What more could a person ask for in life!

My thoughts when we docked ... "That was the most exciting maintenance run ever!"