50 quid on E-Bay

Nearing Sable Island, Lia delivers her latest from the Faraday Mill OSTAR

Lia is now approaching Sable Island just south of Nova Scotia. The wind has been up and down, but at 1200 BST today she had just 590 miles to go to the finish. It is difficult to estimate which day she might arrive just now due to the inconsistencies of the wind, but all being well she could finish in about four days, unless the wind dies and
she is becalmed again:

The ringing was so loud and obtrusive that I scudded against the wall as I leapt from my sleeping bag and splashed into the puddle on the cabin floor. I ripped the laptop plug out of the DC to AC power inverter which likes to make a few songs now and then. The ringing continued. VHF DSC Distress/Mayday alarm? The VHF was not switched on. I killed the generator and flicked the ultimate switch, on all power, expecting a wonderful silent relief. But Noooooooo! I scrambled on deck for a reprieve. 'What the hell was that?' and scanned for ships passing while I was there. If that was the Seame alarm something was frightfully near. But there was not a ship nor a star; just the full moon peering between clouds, wondering too what was going on. 

It is hard to locate a noise so all-embracing, but out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed tucked under the stove, a red LED flashing. It was a small white plastic unit I had forgotten all about. My first instinct on clutching 'The Fire Angel,' was to hurl the unit overboard. Thinking better of that, at least until I had established the cause of its alarm, I aimed to disconnect the battery and found a small 'reset' button instead. It read, 'WHEN ALARM SOUNDS YOU SHOULD IMMEDIATELY:
1. Open the doors and windows to ventilate [I had lifted the cabin spray cover?!]
2. Turn off all appliances where possible and stop using. [Tick box].
3. Evacuate the property leaving all doors and windows open.[Who wouldn't with that racket?] 
4. Do not re-enter the property until the alarm has stopped. [Who else was going to turn it off?!]
And 5. Seek medical help immediately for anyone suffering the effects of CARBON MONOXIDE poisoning.

It was of course, the carbon monoxide detector that Abraham's dad had snuck aboard 'just in case,' before the start. Yikes! Perhaps it was simply because I had failed to 'TEST WEEKLY. VACUUM CASE MONTHLY,' that it had triggered, [...'for technical support contact +44 24 7623 6663 [10AM-4PM]  alas it was 2:56 in the morning], but I rather suspected we had ourselves a CO2 leak. The 'patch will turn black' CO2 spotting stickers had long since got wet and slid off the walls. I had been running the generator, as a heater [at which it is more efficient anyway] while I was sleeping.
 
With a brand name like 'The Weekender,' you are asking for trouble. Still, the 750KW [allegedly Kawasaki] generator originally purchased by my friend Kester, from his mate for £30, who bought it off E-bay for £50, when new they only cost £75, managed to rack up an impressive 1000 miles of sea time. When the muffler was removed [it leaked oil] and the exhaust pipe receiver welded on, James suggested that we ought to rename it the '24/7.' As 'The Weekender,' it didn't bode well. It had become generally accepted that the downside of 'The Weekender,' was that it liked to cake spark-plugs in carbon compounds approximately every 500 nautical miles and that the exhaust piping got so hot that it fried everything in its path. But it was a trusty machine, didn't mind the odd bit of heal and only changed tone when you tacked. Unfortunately 'The Weekender,' as you might expect, didn't survive the week-long testing in the run up to the race start. The great question of discussion was, that if for whatever reason the batteries became run-down, would 'The Weekender' be able to handle the load to begin charging them back up again?

The challenge accepted by Abraham's Dad, Gray [who is an inventor] led to a bag full of light bulbs [to drain the batteries] and ended up with the assistance of two Engineers from the Marines in their workshop in Plymouth [The Marines had kindly offered me dockage during my stay in Plymouth and were both amazed yet helpful in my quest for reliable power] The bagful of lightbulbs at this point grew to a string of bulbs with enough heads to light a small forest and Gray can be found in the courtyard beside a couple of hovercraft, shaking 'The Weekender,' up and down in offshore simulation. For the purpose of comparative studies, a virtually identical model, branded 'The Master' [TG950] gets purchased, to reveal that neither model live up to their 40amp output claim. Tragically, 'The Weekender,' melts off its own plastic fan cover, forever more overheats and so it is with 'The Master,' [perhaps..the lesser of two weazels? to quote the film 'Master & Commander'] that Lia ends up departing with in the race.
 
While friends went off to Stonehenge to celebrate the summer solstice, for Lia aboard Shockwave, it was also the longest day. Northern lights apparently make some very reliable compact generators, but alas it was 'The Master,' which had Lia on her knees for most of the day. I went to turn on the generator as per usual during the coldest part of the night. 'Zvrum, zvrum, zvrum' she putted louder than your average fishing trawler. This was followed by a brief 'gerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,' before 'The Master,' coughed, spluttered and conked out. Surprised, I gave 'The Master' a top up of juice and had a snoot around its exterior for any obvious humbugs. After the same sequence occurs in succession, I peek at my voltage level, the wind generator outside [which is static] and begin to get a little anxious. 'The Master,' did not come with an operator's manual [the production cost of that would be greater than the generator] so it is at this point I ring Simon, [my oil-umbilical-laying engineer friend] and great believer in the phrase 'It'll be fine!' Having drained water from the carborettor [..."you see that little egg-cup shaped bit off to one side, with all the screws on it? Okay, now DONT let the screw come out, its spring-loaded..."], allowed fuel to run freely from the fuel line [...it should only be held on with a couple of clamps..] wire-brushed the earth [...that'll be the green and yellow wire which bolts onto the side of the geny somewhere...] and checked the back of the electrical panel for  loose wiring, 'The Master,' was running smoothly again, but alas giving no electrical output. With the 'AC protector' button permanently on 'tripped,' the answer was not very far away, but difficult to get to. So it is for the fifth time, at one in the morning your time, that Lia unscrews the cover of 'The Master.' I had reached the by-pass or hard wire it, make it work 'NOW' mentality and Simon was sleeping.

Taking the example of the other electrics aboard, there were perhaps two categorical causes: salt-water corrosion or a loose connection. Seeing no examples of the first, I prodded around for the second. [That is, after I had taken apart the allegedly 'waterproof' flash light, wire-brushed ITS contacts and shook it back to life. I decided to dis-embowel the plug socket.] It is while holding the three pieces of black plastic, with a red plastic spring-loaded 'safety prong cover that I am reminded of the cost of 'The Master,' and why you can pick one up for 50 quid off E-bay. All four pieces could easily be interchanged with parts from the Kinder Surprise toy that I had built earlier. As for the metal contacts, the gifts found inside Tesco's luxury Christmas Crackers are made of sturdier stuff. I need have looked no further for my loose connection. The most delightful thing to have come from my Co2 fright-in-the-night, was to discover a 9V rectangular battery cell in the Carbon Monoxide Detector. The same cell is required for my multimeter [which would have found the loose plug connection in a flash], which during the cabin flood, joined the rest of the tools in the box for a corrosive swim in brown murk.
 
The irony today is that 'The Master,' has been made redundant. There is plenty of breeze for the wind generator to handle all power consumption alone. If the wind is blowing from 260 degrees, [SW] then my bearing to waypoint [Finish] is 260 degrees [SW] alike. 'When it comes to compromise,' I read in a Yachting Monthly article one time, 'my wife and I get on very well.' 'If she wants to go North and I want to go South, we compromise and go North!' [So we shall just pop by Sable Island for a visit along the way.]