Annapolis, MD - Exxon Valdez Redux

Unbelievable! At 9:30 this morning we were in the Rhode River, about 12 miles south of Annapolis. We had started the engines and Kevin was just getting ready to bring up the anchor when BEEEEP! The oil alarm on the port engine started going off. We shut down the engine and went below to investigate the engine compartment -- oil was everywhere! Kevin looked down and said "I can't believe this - we lost another oil gallery plug. This is the EXACT SAME THING that happened last year two days before your parents came to visit over fourth of july." An oil gallery plug is a small metal plug shaped like an eraser. For whatever reason, Volvo presses these plugs into the engine block instead of using threaded screws. Last year when this happened, Kevin and my dad actually drilled a larger hole, threaded it, and plugged up the hole with a threaded plug. Luckily Kevin had purchased more threaded plugs than he needed last year, so we would theoretically be able to get this fixed today before heading to Annapolis. I was sure glad we hadn't pulled the anchor up - at least we wouldn't have to go into Annapolis harbor on one engine.

So we got to work. First things first: we had to clean up the oil spill in our engine compartment. We had lost about a gallon of oil, and some of that had found its way down into the bilge. Luckily it wasn't enough to kick on our automatic bilge pump, which might've discharged it overboard (which is totally illegal). So to avoid creating an oil slick, Kevin disengaged the bilge pump and we used a hand pump to suck out 2 gallons of oily bilge water. Ew. Then Kevin contorted himself into all kinds of acrobatic positions trying to mop up the rest of the oil out of the engine compartment. Now we (meaning Kevin of course, since he actually has machine shop experience) were ready to drill the hole and insert the new threaded plug. All told, everything (cleanup, drilling, etc) took about 3 hours, including a break for lunch. We started up the engine and let it idle while we were eating, then checked the plug -- no leaks. By 1:30 we were on our way to Annapolis as if nothing had happened.

Getting into Annapolis is tricky; it's a big-time sailing town so not only did we have to watch out for other large boats but there were nearly a hundred ten-year-old dinghy sailors zipping around in dinghy races. (These are small sailing dinghies, not like our inflatable zodiac-type dinghy). Kevin was at the helm and after threading his way around three or four separate dinghy races, he also had to run the gauntlet through a large posse of jetskiers leaving the harbor. Finally we motored up Spa Creek and under the bascule bridge. We originally had arrangements to dock at one of the local boatyards for the week while my parents are in town. But when I called the guy said gruffly, "Um...things have changed since you called. We don't have space for you right now, I'm gonna hafta move some boats." So instead of waiting around while the guy shuffled the marina around, we just picked up one of the city moorings. I called the guy back and said, "Hey, you don't have to move those boats anymore, if it's okay with you we'll just stay on the mooring for the week." The docks at the marina looked like they were in pretty bad shape anyway, so it's better this way. The moorings in this section of Annapolis are out of the way of the main harbor so it's much more peaceful and scenic, and it's just as close to downtown as the marina would've been.