I don’t know what the deal is with tankage on Traveler but
we’ve had problems with every tank larger than a breadbox. A tank is only a box with a couple of holes
in it. Why are they so canTANKerous?
Warning: The contents
of this blog entry might prove a little long-winded. You might want to just
close this window and go check your Facebook account.
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| We are presently anchored in Bahia Chamela just off the little town of Perula |
Traveler has… hmmm, let’s count, five big tanks: two fancy
75 gallon stainless steel water tanks under the floor in the salon, two beefy
65 gallon steel diesel fuel tanks under the aft cockpit floor, and one
mean-spirited plastic 40 gallon waste holding tank forward. The big tanks are all located on the center
line of the boat, down low, and are connected to their mate with a crossover
hose so that changes in fuel or water levels don’t affect the balance of the
boat. The mean-spirited holding tank is
way up on the port side in the head (bathroom).
Just like the port side wine storage area, when its full, the boat is in
balance. As we drink up the wine or we
empty the holding tank, the boat begins to list a little to the starboard side.
There a low tech indicator that tells us when the boat is listing to
starboard. When I’m on my hands and
knees trying to find that little tupperware stashed in the back of the
refrigerator the refrigerator door will bonk me in the head if we are listing
to starboard and I think to myself, “Gotta go buy more vino tinto.” When we have lots of vino tinto the
refrigerator door slams into the oven.
And when we are in a rolling anchorage the refrigerator door slams into
the oven then slams into my head over and over until I find that little tupperware
or just give up in exasperation and yell, “Connieee!” I yell this in the same tone as Connie’s son
Ezrah used as a child when he’d holler out “Mommmm!”
When the boat is out of balance we don’t ever think, “Gotta
fill up the holding tank.” In fact we
rue the day that the damn thing gets full because that means we have to up
anchor and take Traveler out to deep water to feed the fishies. And hence the problem, sometimes those fishies
don’t get fed right away. But we’ll save
that tankage story for last.
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| We found slow internet for 50 pesos at Playa Dorada |
First, what about those sexy 75 gallon water tanks? We noticed two possibly connected events (or symptoms)
last spring. The bilge pump was running
occasionally and our water tank levels were losing water slowly, ever so
slowly. One day in the haulout yard I
pulled up the floorboards and asked our knower-of-all-things marine guru Bob to
take a look at the water tanks. He
thought they were sexy but like most things too sexy there might be trouble
brewing within. Evidently with stainless
steel tanks, little bitty pin-hole leaks can develop over time. Being stainless, this did not mean rust, just
tiny little holes… one or two perhaps. It
happens all the time. The solution was
to have the “boys” cut more inspection ports into the tops of the tanks, clean
out the tanks, and spray the insides with a resin mix that would find and seal the
pin-hole leaks. “Make it so!” the
Admiral says. Now our water tanks
actually hold water. More on that story
can be found here.
Second, those beefy old diesel tanks had me at sixes and
sevens. Not soon after I bought the boat
we had the tanks cleaned out and inspected.
Then I filled them with 120 gallons of diesel. Little did we know that the crossover hose
had a hole in it. Hours later with the
bilge pump cycling every 15 minutes pumping fresh diesel into the pristine
marine environment off San Diego bay we began a fire drill that ended up with
an emergency haul out into the yard and a night of fuel transferring into two
50 gallon barrels on a pallet on the ground below the now land based Traveler. More on that story can be found here.
And third, the saga of the holding tank. It laid in wait for us to become comfortable
with her performance. Over time, urine
combined with salt water to produce calcium deposits in the waste lines and
tank. Connie and I rebuilt the head once
and cleaned out the calcium. Then later
when the head smell got worse we had all the waste hoses replaced in the yard
and she smelled sweet again. Little did
we know that there was evil lurking inside the holding tank itself. Terror
struck as we made our way down from Mazatlan to La Cruz. When on the dock, we use the facilities
ashore just so we don’t have to deal with pumping out the holding tank every
week. Off the dock finally, and heading
south, we started using the head. Our first stop was at the beautiful bay at
Mantenchen. Anchored in the bay in 20
feet of water we switched the Y valves in the head to direct the poop into the
holding tank.
When out at sea we
discharge directly overboard, but when at anchor we use the holding tank so
that our little floating guys don’t surf their way onto the beach or bump into
folks swimming in the water. The next
day, after leaving Mantenchen, we opened up the valve to drain the holding
tank. Our next overnight stop was at
Chacala where we again closed the valve.
It was interesting that in Chacala a woman swam out to our boat aghast
because she was swimming and reached out to touch something she found in the
water and it turned out to be a turd.
She swam to all six boats anchored in the bay to make sure everyone was
using their holding tanks.
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| Our internet spot at Playa Dorada. Notice the coconuts around the bottom of the palm sprouting new trees. |
Between Chacala and La Cruz we again opened the valve to
feed the fishies once in deep water. We
were feeding BIG fish out there and I caught one and another took the lure! We anchored in the bay at La Cruz happy to be
back. On the third day at anchorage the
holding tank blew up. The pressure
inside made it difficult to pump the toilet handle and a bad smell ran through
the boat. Connie went up on deck and
opened the pump-out cap to look inside.
When she pulled off the cap, brown water streamed out and down the
gunnel. She made some choice sounds that
were quite entertaining to the captain.
How could the holding tank be so full?
We’d been dumping it every other day!
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| Moments before the waterfall of stink cascaded down |
Thus began a saga that was to last two weeks. I spent hours looking at valves and removing
the wall in the shower to reveal the holding tank in all its glory (gory). We tried going out to deeper water to empty
the tank but it wouldn’t cooperate. So we
motored into the marina and paid 100 pesos for a pump-out. In doing so we found that not only was the
exit elbow at the bottom stopped up but the air vent on top was also
plugged. My theory was that the calcium
deposits had gotten into the tank and were rattling around in there for some
time before they finally clogged the exit.
Then the head filled with our wonderfully sweet smelling effuse. When the level reached the top, some solids
clogged the air vent and then we had a pressurized 40 gallon $hi# bomb ready to
bust out.
Getting to the air vent was fairly straightforward. After poking at it with several different
wires and failing to clear the vent I figured I’d stop messing around and just
drill it out. Using a long skinny drill
bit the job was done in no time and I heard a whoosh of air entering the
tank. But still it did not drain. We tried vinegar. We tried chemicals. With every addition the tank filled. I knew that eventually I’d have to empty that
tank again if kept this up. I put out a
call for help on the VHF. My friends
suddenly got plans elsewhere, saying, “Good luck with that.” Finally I got a call from the sailboat
Elegant Sea. Chip had a plumbing snake I
could use. So I sat myself down in the
head with feet and hands under the sink and disassembled the Y valve that
connects to the elbow at the bottom of the holding tank. I used a heat gun to warm the stiff outlet
hose so I could worm it off the connection. Then I took the snake and shoved it
up the hose, turning it around and around to grind through whatever was
clogging up the works.
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| Dan has a big flask of rum! |
With a cry of “Get the bucket, Connie!”, I announced my
success as brown liquid steamed down the pipe and into my lap. The smell was overwhelming but my pleasure
was extreme. We filled the bucket and
Connie took it topside to dump as I put my palm over the pipe to stem the
flow. After a few of these iterations we
had an empty tank. The good thing about
a boat is that any large amount of liquid you spill inside the boat makes its
way into the bilge. After I reassembled
everything we set about cleaning up the boat and cleaning up a stinky me. Pulling up the floor boards we found that the
“spillover” had indeed found the forward bilge.
However the bilge pump there had stopped working. I scooped it all up with a cup and bucket and
we scrubbed everything with water and bleach.
Connie fixed the bilge pump by replacing a 4 amp fuse. But the boat stank and we had company coming
for dinner.
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| Wall back in place, glue setting. |
We ate in the cockpit that night and burned incense down
below in the cabin.
A week later, thinking we had this thing licked, we motored
out into deep water and brought the boat to a halt. I peered over the side as Connie opened the
valve to drain the holding tank.
Nothing!
So we went into the marina rented a slip for two nights. Docked there, Connie tried using a plunger on
the hole outside the boat and under the water. Upside down with her feet wedged in the
dinghy, arms and face in the water. If
it worked then she’d get a dose of the brown magic in her face. It didn’t
work. Then we decided to apply pressure
from the top. I stuffed a water hose
into the deck fitting and Connie turned on the dock water spigot full
power. The water pressure at the La Cruz
marina is extreme. The tank filled to
the top and brown liquid started pissing out the air vent. I put my finger over the vent and held the
hose in place. Suddenly the pressure
broke through the damn and a plume of brown effluent spewed into the water
between our docked boats. “$hi#!”, I
yelled and ran below to close the valve.
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| A ring around the full moon on our overnight passage from La Cruz to Chamela |
Back topsides I could see the brown plume spreading through
the blue water and smell the results of my handy work. I started up the engine, put her in gear and
engaged the propeller to create a current.
Then I got in the dinghy and tied it alongside using its engine to
encourage the brown plume to make its way into the fairway between the
docks. A young Mexican removing varnish
on the boat next to us held his nose. We
stared at the sky, whistling and trying to look innocent. Soon the visible evidence was gone. The blue
water in the marina had a slight haze about it. The smell lingered for the rest of the day.
The next day, back in the anchorage, we used the holding
tank again. And again it clogged. But we were able to take her out into deeper
water and use the salt water wash down pump and an old garden hose to push the
effluent out. Our hope now is that after
cycling enough water through the tanks and lines we will eventually get all the
calcium and other solids out of the tank. Meanwhile, our policy is to avoid mixing urine
with saltwater in our holding tank. In
other words, we pee in an old yogurt container and toss it over the rail. Personally, I find it much more rewarding to
do my peeing standing in the cockpit looking at the boats at anchor than doing
my business inside the confines of the head. Connie likes it too. I bought a plumbing snake the other day to
have on hand in case the salt water pump cannot clear the blockage. Having bought it, I probably won’t have to
use it. My fingers are crossed.
Sorry to belabor you with this long winded account but you
know you could have just stopped reading when I first warned you. Try as I might, I can’t find any more tanks on
this boat. If I did, then surely it
would clog or leak. That’s just the way
it is with a boat. Everything will eventually break. All systems eventually fail. Why do we put up with such nonsense? Here is why.
