We wrapped up our last Ariose Note as we were bobbing in the Atlantic off the Florida coast about to cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas, with our usually reliable diesel engine sounding like it was taking its dying breath. As Tim and I trouble-shooted (troubleshot?) together, both of us had an ominous feeling in our gut as we thought back to fuelling up at the marina earlier that day.

When handed a blue-handled nozzle, we questioned it because all diesel pumps we have been served at have always been green. The dockhand showed us on the pump that the label did indicate it was indeed diesel. When clear liquid came out rather than the usual pink-colour of marine diesel, we stopped immediately, and expressed concern again that this wasn’t diesel. The dockhand did go check with management, and returned to explain that they had serviced the pumps that day, the Department of Agriculture had inspected and confirmed all was well, and that it was indeed diesel. We had also recently been told by a fellow cruiser that the colorant is put in to distinguish diesel for marine use for taxation purposes, and he has safely used uncoloured diesel in his boat. Nevertheless, it seemed strange. Tim’s usually sensitive sniffer couldn’t distinguish the difference, especially with the fuel intake open and fumes from the diesel already in the tank masking other odours. We have no idea when the colouring is added, so naively surmised that since we were first to draw from this recently serviced pump, the colorant had probably not yet mixed through. We proceeded. Where’s a bit of hindsight when you need it?

Later we learned that the signage on the pump had been removed in servicing. When replaced, the front & rear signs were mixed up, resulting in arrows pointing in the wrong direction. The “diesel” sign pointed to the gas, and vice versa. So our precious, previously completely reliable, 3GM30F Yanmar had 1/2 a tank of gasoline added to the existing 1/2 tank of diesel. It ran for approximately 8 hours on this mix, labouring for much of that time before stopping completely. A simple mistake with serious consequences. We’ll get to those in a moment.

Photos: [TOP] Green nozzle with correct “diesel to the left” signage & [BOTTOM] the inverted sign as it looked when we fuelled, erroneously showing diesel to the right. 🙁

We’re not beating ourselves up too much about accepting this fuel. Our lack of experience is certainly one factor. Needless to say, we now have more of that.  We were really excited about our upcoming Gulf Crossing, and eager to get going. Topping up our fuel was the last item on our departure check-list. We were at the fuel dock of a posh marina, serving multi-million dollar yachts, so had a measure of trust in them that we wouldn’t necessarily have had at another facility. Did I mention we were eager to get going?

So, back to me emerging from the cabin to find that our engine was dying. It was really, really hot, so we turned it off, and decided on next steps. Tim changed both filters, hoping that would help. We drifted north while he worked, then raised sail. We have nowhere near the skill level to be able to sail into the tight harbour of Lake Worth Inlet. Thankfully, we (i.e. Tim!) were able to get the engine going again, so limped back into the usually frenzied inlet – oddly quite at 2:30am – with the motor repeatedly failing then reluctantly starting, offering less and less power each time. We returned to the offending marina, with a high-stress under-powered docking narrowly avoiding collision with a rather large (i.e. expensive) yacht tied ahead of us. We secured Ariose and fell into a well-deserved sleep.

Early the next morning, we heard footsteps on our dock, and a voice urgently exclaiming “They’re here! They’re here!”. We emerged to find yesterday’s dockhand, his face a mix of extreme distress and relief, on the phone pacing back and forth. He showered us with heartfelt apologies. Within minutes, the Harbourmaster arrived and also owned up to the mistakes made, offering a sincere promise to do what was needed to make things right.

It took about 5 days for that to happen, allowing us lots of time to research. So, what about the consequences? If you’re familiar with diesel engines, feel free to skip the rest of this paragraph. In the last week, I have learned far more about diesels than I ever cared to know, although Tim’s in no danger of being bumped from his on-board mechanical expert role. Gas is really volatile, and in fact, in gas engines, the gas and air mix is ignited by sparks, and the resulting explosions in the cylinders provide the power. Diesel is hard to burn even if you try, which is why it’s a much safer option in boats. The air is compressed first to raise the temperature to then allow the fuel to ignite. Gas is a solvent, diesel is a lubricant, and that lubricant is critical to the engine’s functioning. Needless to say, with even small amounts of gas in a diesel engine, if it doesn’t cause a catastrophic explosion or fire (that possibility was a terrifying thought!), the lowered flash point will cause the fuel to prematurely ignite, and that’s not a good thing. Insufficient lubrication adds to the potential damage by scoring parts like cylinder walls causing bits of metal to wreak havoc. I may not fully grasp my new-found knowledge, but I fully understood that this may have completely messed up our engine.

Google, as usual, gave us conflicting information on whether the damage could be repaired (i.e. clean lines, replace fuel injectors, etc.) or if we needed a new engine. Obviously, we need to be able to rely on our engine Either way, we didn’t like the options. A repaired engine would leave us wondering about ‘down the road’ issues and a new engine could bring with it added complication with computer-controlled devices. Our old Yanmar was simple and described by the dealer  “as reliable as a Timex”. We like our oldie, simple engine that Tim is able to work on and are concerned if we go with a new engine, it will be beyond our layperson ability to service.  Thankfully, the gas didn’t cause an onboard fire, but our posting of this incident online to learn from others did ignite some explosive debate: “Your engine is toast – don’t settle for anything less than new”; “What the last poster said about knock in your engine is bunk”; “Get an honest-to-god lawyer working for you!”; “It’s not often you see the words ‘honest’ or ‘god’ referring to lawyers!”; detailed step-by-step instructions on diagnosing and repairing damage that provided good information (but we were waiting for a marina-funded, certified mechanic to tackle it); “Older Yanmars are hardy – just clean it out and it will probably be fine”; and on and on. We hoped that last poster was right!

With each “adventure” we experience along the way, I feel a shift in my core. Tim’s always been a roll-with-the-situation kind of guy when it comes to mechanical challenges or dealing with nature’s challenges (a little less resilient with other issues though!). I always try to see silver lining in the curves life throws us, knowing the importance of maintaining optimism, and framing situations in a positive light. What I’m finding is that acceptance and optimism seem to require less and less effort. It just seems obvious. Yes, we were once again “grounded”, but this time in relative comfort at a beautiful marina, just steps away from washroom/shower facilities. An island park was just a short row away, giving us a chance to enjoy some of our down-time at the beach. Fellow cruisers, Rose & Joe, from Hamilton Ontario were also at the marina, so we enjoyed get togethers with them. And a local juvenile pelican visited us several times a day as curious about us as we were about it. All was well, and one way or another, we would move on from this set-back.

Five days later, the tank was pumped and cleaned out, a Yanmar certified diesel mechanic gave it a good look over, bleeding the lines. A test run with the mechanic revealed no suspicious sounds. All seemed well and we had a Gulf Stream crossing weather window the very next day. Not without some reservations, we decided to go for it. We would motor down the coast for many hours to give our engine an opportunity to show any problems if they existed, then if all was well, we would say good-bye to the US. If all wasn’t well, we’d return. We had the marina’s assurance that they would pay for a return tow if necessary.

At noon, we fuelled up on the marina’s dime. We laughed as the dockhand squirted some fuel out first to verify that it was in fact diesel. The signage on the pump has been secured so that it can’t be removed, and staff training has already been enhanced to mitigate the chance of this kind of error happening again.

A couple hours in, a strong smell revealed diesel in our bilge. Tim easily located and fixed the leak. An injector line hadn’t been properly tightened after bleeding out the gas the previous day. The engine also felt like it was overheating. We tracked down the mechanic by phone, and in consulting with him, confirmed what Tim had figured. The excessive heat from running on gas likely damaged the engine thermostat, so it wasn’t signalling for proper amounts of coolant. Tim did a great job in provisioning spare parts for this journey, and sure enough, we had another thermostat. He replaced it, and that seemed to do the trick. We motored uneventfully another few hours, restoring our confidence in the motor sufficiently so that at 8pm, we turned east, and out to the Gulf Stream. It was a long night, with the conditions not being as ideal as promised, but we survived the rolling seas, and as dawn broke, we saw the unmistakable outline of the Bahamas ahead, right where they should be. By 10am, we were there, with a posse of Canadians welcoming us with congratulatory hugs!

So, what have we learned? We’ve learned to trust in ourselves but not always; to trust in others but not always; to trust in technology, well, most of the time anyways. One of my colleagues, Clark, would often coach our management team in “trusting but verifying”. Maybe that’s the lesson. If mistakes provide the most powerful learning opportunities, we are on our way to being really brilliant!

Now, we’re docked at a charming little resort-based marina at West End, Grand Bahama Island. In the next day or two, we will sail over to the Abaco islands. We intend to find an uninhabited bit of remote paradise where we will drop our hook and enjoy. We’ve bombarded Ariose Notes with posts over the last few days, but rest assured, we expect it will be a lovely long gap before you hear from us again. And that’s a good thing!