Freebird
Legendary Member
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2006
- Messages
- 1,921
- Status
- OWNER - I own a Hatteras Yacht
- Hatteras Model
- 58' TRIPLE CABIN (1970 - 1976)
I took possession of my '74 58 Triple Cabin last Tuesday and set out from New Port Richey on a shakedown cruise with a buddy I purchased my 41 Double Cabin from. Things were going great, and we were crusing at 16-17mph at 2,100rpm at around 10PM in what I thought was familiar water offshore of Sarasota. I was watching my GPS and noticed our speed starting to climb to 18.5mph. Yee ha, we're cruisin' now! Then there was the dreaded sound of fiberglass into sand, and everything came to a grinding halt. All the fridge contents ended up on the galley floor, but luckily we only lost a gallon of orange juice and the beer bottles stayed intact.
After using my full vocabulary of curse words, I radioed Sea Tow to tell them we were hard aground. After giving my position, he informed me there were new shoals after last years storms that had caught more than a few folks by surprise. The good news was we were at extreme low tide, so we should be free around 7AM. I checked the bilge and everything appeared okay. So it was a case of hurry up and wait. We were rocking back and forth on the keel, so sleep was not an option. Not that I would have been able to sleep anyway. I watched the depth until we reached the point I could power off. That was around 5AM. I was able to free her up, and we went inside via Big Sarasota Pass and took the ICW to Venice as the sun came up.
We stopped to grab some breakfast, and headed toward our destination of Cabbage Key. Once back outside, I throttled up to 2,100 and was elated not to feel any vibration after the grounding. We were just north of Boca Grande when I heard my starboard engine losing speed. I immediately pulled the throttles back and killed the engine. We were only a few miles from Gasparilla Marina, so I decided to limp in on the port and check things out. Ten minutes later, the port engine stumbled and died. I had been foolish enough to trust a fuel gauge on a new boat, and didn't top off the tanks before setting out. The seller had assured me the tanks were half full, 425 gallons. We were out of fuel. The generator was also dry, so we couldn't drop the dingy via the electric davit.
I radioed Tow Boat US who brought us 20 gallons of fuel which I dumped into the port engine tank. I filled the filters, hit the starter, and she fired right up. I sent the Tow Boat guy on his way with $250 of my favorite dollars and proceeded to head south. Ten minutes later, we were dead in the water. My Racors were full of crap, and I had no more on board (another stupid move on my part). I had Tow Boat return, and they towed me to Gasparilla Marina and left with $300 more of my favorite dollars.
The marina was closed at that point, so we had to wait til morning to buy new filters. While waiting, I checked the starboard engine which showed no oil on the stick, but plenty in the sump. The port was still full. An inspection the next morning revealed a blown oil line which took another day to have made up and replaced.
During this time, my buddy, who is in his 70's, showed me a large gash in his leg which he said had started out as a bug bite of some sort a couple of days earlier. I suggested he go to a doctor the next morning, which he did. He called my cell from the doctor's office and said he had been advised to return home and seek immediate medical attention, possibly hospitalization. He had apparently been bitten by one of Florida's nasty critters, and his leg was about to rot off. They had just installed the new oil line, so I told him to meet me on the fuel dock and we would head back to Tampa for a flight back to Knoxville, TN.
After fueling, I backed off the dock only to find I had no forward gear on my starboard. After making a wide circle back to the dock, I called the service folks who came to check the problem. Their diagnosis: I had burned up the clutches in the Allison tranny by running on one engine and then being towed. Once again, I emptied my arsenal of curse words especially after being told it would take 3-4 weeks to have the work done! That was not an option, so I left out on my port engine while idleing my starboard to prevent any further damage. The starboard engine was smoking heavily at anything above idle, something it had never done before. I wrote this off to having sucked the bottom of the tank dry.
We made it into Venice just as a storm hit, and planned a dinner stop a the Crow's Nest. As we headed in, I tried the starboard shift again, and viola, it worked! There was no dock space to be had, so we headed back outside. After circling back through my own wake, I noticed I was leaving an oil slick that would make any camel jockey proud. I decided to test the transmission by throttling up. I also wanted to leave that oil slick behind! She came up on plane, and the starboard quit smoking. After a few minutes, I stopped the engines and found low oil on the starboard again. At that point, I switched off the bilge pumps, and headed to Marina Jack on the port engine where we spent the night.
The next morning I had a fellow come down and offer his opinion on what was going on with the starboard. He offered several gloomy theories as to what was happening, and suggested I not run the engine until I had it checked. I had free dockage at the seller's dock, so I locked down the starboard shaft and headed toward Pass a Grill to offload my buddy to catch a flight out of Tampa.
I pulled into the first little marina in the inlet and was met by three teen-age employees who had great difficulty in handling a bow line. Once we were tied, my buddy got off the boat. I was just explaining to one of the marina kids from the stern that I need to set a spring line to help me off the dock as I was running on one engine. About that time, the young girl threw off my bow line! I screamed NO!!!!! They all ran and grabbed ahold of the line, but the tide was going out at about 3 knots, and the wind was at 15, so you know who won that battle! I was tied hard and fast at the stern with the engine switched off. All I could do was cringe as the current carried me back into a piling which made toothpicks out of my teak platform! Once again, I used all my curse words and even rembered a few I had forgotten earlier.
After documenting the accident with management and law enforcement, I set out for New Port Richey. Once outside, I noticed I had lost all my 12 volt electronics on the bridge. I knew they were powered by a battery on the bridge that was kept up by a charger. (The old Hatt is still 32v dc) I hadn't been running the genny because of a small coolant leak, and the battery was dead. No big deal, I'll fire the genny and go on my merry way. I throttle back, and drop down into the pilothouse. I hit the switch, nothing. I go down and pop the hatch. Meanwhile, a storm is coming in and I'm sitting sideways in five footers. I see a large gauge black wire all by its lonesome. Then I see an empty terminal wrapped in electrical tape. I insert the wire, hit the starter at the genny, and she fires right up. I'm searching for something to crimp this terminal back on, the boat is rocking and rolling, glass is breaking in the overhead cabinets, (Cincinnati Bengal mugs, no big loss) and I hear a huge crash from the upper salon. I make my way up and find the sationary plate of one of the two sliding glass doors has shattered into a million pieces! Meanwhile, I can't find anything to crimp the terminal with, and I know I can't risk running the generator without it being securely attached to a battery. So I take another 12 volt battery used to operate the vaccuflush heads, and carry it up to the bridge and connect my GPS.
I'm fighting the wheel with only the port engine with quartering seas coming into my port stern. Needless to say, it was a long night. Thankfully, I find my way into the private channel where the seller lives behind Anclote Key, and my maiden voyage comes to an end at about 12:30AM. I get her tied up, connect the shorepower, and head for the shower. I'm all soaped up, and everything goes black. You guessed it, the breaker on shore has tripped, and I don't have the heart to wake the seller to reset it. So I pop the hatches in the forward bunk, and sweat my way to morning.
I got everything on the boat squared away as best I could, and headed back to Tennessee. I had told my wife of my adventures, so she was waiting on me when I got home with a big hug, a cold drink, and a copy of the movie "Captain Ron" for my viewing pleasure. Is it any wonder I love boating so much.
After using my full vocabulary of curse words, I radioed Sea Tow to tell them we were hard aground. After giving my position, he informed me there were new shoals after last years storms that had caught more than a few folks by surprise. The good news was we were at extreme low tide, so we should be free around 7AM. I checked the bilge and everything appeared okay. So it was a case of hurry up and wait. We were rocking back and forth on the keel, so sleep was not an option. Not that I would have been able to sleep anyway. I watched the depth until we reached the point I could power off. That was around 5AM. I was able to free her up, and we went inside via Big Sarasota Pass and took the ICW to Venice as the sun came up.
We stopped to grab some breakfast, and headed toward our destination of Cabbage Key. Once back outside, I throttled up to 2,100 and was elated not to feel any vibration after the grounding. We were just north of Boca Grande when I heard my starboard engine losing speed. I immediately pulled the throttles back and killed the engine. We were only a few miles from Gasparilla Marina, so I decided to limp in on the port and check things out. Ten minutes later, the port engine stumbled and died. I had been foolish enough to trust a fuel gauge on a new boat, and didn't top off the tanks before setting out. The seller had assured me the tanks were half full, 425 gallons. We were out of fuel. The generator was also dry, so we couldn't drop the dingy via the electric davit.
I radioed Tow Boat US who brought us 20 gallons of fuel which I dumped into the port engine tank. I filled the filters, hit the starter, and she fired right up. I sent the Tow Boat guy on his way with $250 of my favorite dollars and proceeded to head south. Ten minutes later, we were dead in the water. My Racors were full of crap, and I had no more on board (another stupid move on my part). I had Tow Boat return, and they towed me to Gasparilla Marina and left with $300 more of my favorite dollars.
The marina was closed at that point, so we had to wait til morning to buy new filters. While waiting, I checked the starboard engine which showed no oil on the stick, but plenty in the sump. The port was still full. An inspection the next morning revealed a blown oil line which took another day to have made up and replaced.
During this time, my buddy, who is in his 70's, showed me a large gash in his leg which he said had started out as a bug bite of some sort a couple of days earlier. I suggested he go to a doctor the next morning, which he did. He called my cell from the doctor's office and said he had been advised to return home and seek immediate medical attention, possibly hospitalization. He had apparently been bitten by one of Florida's nasty critters, and his leg was about to rot off. They had just installed the new oil line, so I told him to meet me on the fuel dock and we would head back to Tampa for a flight back to Knoxville, TN.
After fueling, I backed off the dock only to find I had no forward gear on my starboard. After making a wide circle back to the dock, I called the service folks who came to check the problem. Their diagnosis: I had burned up the clutches in the Allison tranny by running on one engine and then being towed. Once again, I emptied my arsenal of curse words especially after being told it would take 3-4 weeks to have the work done! That was not an option, so I left out on my port engine while idleing my starboard to prevent any further damage. The starboard engine was smoking heavily at anything above idle, something it had never done before. I wrote this off to having sucked the bottom of the tank dry.
We made it into Venice just as a storm hit, and planned a dinner stop a the Crow's Nest. As we headed in, I tried the starboard shift again, and viola, it worked! There was no dock space to be had, so we headed back outside. After circling back through my own wake, I noticed I was leaving an oil slick that would make any camel jockey proud. I decided to test the transmission by throttling up. I also wanted to leave that oil slick behind! She came up on plane, and the starboard quit smoking. After a few minutes, I stopped the engines and found low oil on the starboard again. At that point, I switched off the bilge pumps, and headed to Marina Jack on the port engine where we spent the night.
The next morning I had a fellow come down and offer his opinion on what was going on with the starboard. He offered several gloomy theories as to what was happening, and suggested I not run the engine until I had it checked. I had free dockage at the seller's dock, so I locked down the starboard shaft and headed toward Pass a Grill to offload my buddy to catch a flight out of Tampa.
I pulled into the first little marina in the inlet and was met by three teen-age employees who had great difficulty in handling a bow line. Once we were tied, my buddy got off the boat. I was just explaining to one of the marina kids from the stern that I need to set a spring line to help me off the dock as I was running on one engine. About that time, the young girl threw off my bow line! I screamed NO!!!!! They all ran and grabbed ahold of the line, but the tide was going out at about 3 knots, and the wind was at 15, so you know who won that battle! I was tied hard and fast at the stern with the engine switched off. All I could do was cringe as the current carried me back into a piling which made toothpicks out of my teak platform! Once again, I used all my curse words and even rembered a few I had forgotten earlier.
After documenting the accident with management and law enforcement, I set out for New Port Richey. Once outside, I noticed I had lost all my 12 volt electronics on the bridge. I knew they were powered by a battery on the bridge that was kept up by a charger. (The old Hatt is still 32v dc) I hadn't been running the genny because of a small coolant leak, and the battery was dead. No big deal, I'll fire the genny and go on my merry way. I throttle back, and drop down into the pilothouse. I hit the switch, nothing. I go down and pop the hatch. Meanwhile, a storm is coming in and I'm sitting sideways in five footers. I see a large gauge black wire all by its lonesome. Then I see an empty terminal wrapped in electrical tape. I insert the wire, hit the starter at the genny, and she fires right up. I'm searching for something to crimp this terminal back on, the boat is rocking and rolling, glass is breaking in the overhead cabinets, (Cincinnati Bengal mugs, no big loss) and I hear a huge crash from the upper salon. I make my way up and find the sationary plate of one of the two sliding glass doors has shattered into a million pieces! Meanwhile, I can't find anything to crimp the terminal with, and I know I can't risk running the generator without it being securely attached to a battery. So I take another 12 volt battery used to operate the vaccuflush heads, and carry it up to the bridge and connect my GPS.
I'm fighting the wheel with only the port engine with quartering seas coming into my port stern. Needless to say, it was a long night. Thankfully, I find my way into the private channel where the seller lives behind Anclote Key, and my maiden voyage comes to an end at about 12:30AM. I get her tied up, connect the shorepower, and head for the shower. I'm all soaped up, and everything goes black. You guessed it, the breaker on shore has tripped, and I don't have the heart to wake the seller to reset it. So I pop the hatches in the forward bunk, and sweat my way to morning.
I got everything on the boat squared away as best I could, and headed back to Tennessee. I had told my wife of my adventures, so she was waiting on me when I got home with a big hug, a cold drink, and a copy of the movie "Captain Ron" for my viewing pleasure. Is it any wonder I love boating so much.
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