Watermaker membranes and fast sailing

Wednesday 8 Dec, Depart Wrightsville Beach to St. Augustine, cruising day 11: Heavy rain. New membranes in watermaker. More leaks from above. Set off on next leg southbound.

We wake up to heavy rain in our anchorage at Wrightsville Beach. The plan is to spend the morning installing new membranes for the water maker system, then set off once the rain stops with the aim to get all the way to St. Augustine in a favorable wind.

The current weather front arrived at dawn, as forecasted. Light winds at first, then strong squalls and very heavy rainfall. And looking at the forecast, it turns out the feared SW wind did indeed materialize west of Cape Fear. If we had tried to continue to Charleston yesterday, we would have been nose into it. So we are very glad we ducked into Wrightsville for the night. Right now, those headwinds are still there, at Cape Fear, but as this weather system moves offshore this afternoon the winds will switch NW then clock to NE. Perfect for rounding Cape Fear and be on a starboard deep run all the way to Charleston. Our departure time is set for 2pm, right when the rain should have stopped. As “soft” cruisers, we don’t do getting wet and cold!

In the morning we are leisurely at first, but the pace quickens after a coffee. We always had a plan to renew the membranes in the water maker as soon as we were in the clean Atlantic waters. We hadn’t even bother to pickle the old ones after we last made water in May’20. But just for fun I had run a system check last week and found to our amazement that it produced apparently good water. But when it came to tasting it, Oana’s face said it all. Not nice!

The membranes, separate from the rest of the system, are situated in their long chambers deep in the starboard bilge, under the floor under the settee. Hence settee cushions are removed, so too the contents of the under-settee stowage, and then the contents in the bilge below that. Yes folks, we are pretty full! All spaces are occupied.
Sharing the bilge compartment with membranes we have: spare spinnaker halyard, dinghy fuel tank, mainsheet and… the big one… a spare outboard motor. A 6HP Suzuki. Which we only have because when our 20HP was stolen in Puerto Rico we could only replace with a 6HP. And when we finally purchased another 20HP, we decided to keep the 6HP as spare. You have to remember: the dinghy and the outboard are like a family car to us. Critical for getting about, once our Cloudy Bay house is anchored. But, before you ask, no, we don’t have a spare dinghy! The thought has crossed my mind though! 😊

Once all that lot is out, I have to get in, to undo the 4 bolts that secure the membrane chambers. And of all the Houdini acts I do in the boat; this one is the most claustrophobic. Sliding in headfirst is easy. But it has to be arms before head because the space is too tight to get arm above my head once inside. Once in, I feel like I’m in a coffin that is tilted on its side, forcing me into the lower edge. And then, getting out in reverse, feet first and defying gravity, is extremely difficult and could easily panic any person. But I have Oana ready to pull if necessary. Or… she could just nail down the lid, if she so desires, and I’d be done! Yet again, like when she hauls me up the mast, I am totally at her mercy!

With the dual membrane chambers out in the cockpit, it is a relatively easy job to unbolt the ends, pull the old membranes, clean, then insert the new ones, which we have had on the boat (as spares) since 2019, still sealed in their original bags. Extracting the old ones is not pleasant. They look quite clean, but they smell absolutely awful. I guess a bit of this smell is what Oana could taste.
It’s interesting. Of all the chemical parameters we measure for good water (salinity, solids, pH etc) it’s the taste that is the ultimate test. And if you want a water taster, there is none better (read: more critical) than Oana!

Reinstalling the membrane chambers in the coffin is no easier than removing them. But by 1pm they are back in, I’m back out alive, hoses are reconnected, and everything is back in place. Minus the outboard motor which will spend the passage jammed on the mid-cabin floor. After we run the water maker I want to check for leaks, and I don’t want to be removing that outboard again just to make this check.

Oh, before we move on. Hoses inside Cloudy Bay are something Hallberg Rassy has a lot to answer for. Without exception, all the internal high-pressure hoses, be it for water maker, backstay and vang hydraulics, or the furling hoses, all of them are terrible quality. Or at least, the outer lay of the hose is. And I understand many other HR owners have the same issue. With time, this rubber outer layer becomes brittle and flakes off in thousands of small black pieces, leaving the bare braided hose naked and unprotected. One of the big jobs still on my to-do list is to pull them all out and replace them. A massive task, which no doubt will leave all the conduits and cable-runs packed full of millions of bits of hose outer layer. Mr. Hallberg Rassy, we love your boats, but what have you got to say for yourself on this one?

And along similar lines, back to leaks. While doing all this, with the rain lashing on the deck, we find water down into the aft shower. With the ceiling panel removed we struggle to see where it’s coming from. Then we spot it. There is a tiny drill hole (~4mm) right through to the deck, going into the bottom of the teak step by the genoa winch. Clearly water is now getting under that step and into this hole. But, Mr. Hallberg Rassy, why the hole? There is no screw in it, and the step is glued on, not screwed. So why the damned hole? Please do tell, and enlighten us meek owners on this one too.

Just before 2pm, it is still raining but time to go. We lift anchor in our wet-gear and set off down the channel with rather steamed up windows. Outside it’s grey, very damp and cold, and the heat from the cabin is causing condensation in the cockpit. Oh, Florida winter weather, you really cannot come soon enough.

Out into the Atlantic there is a wonderful NW offshore wind to power us along the coast to the end of the Cape Fear shoals, 35nm away to the SW. With the smooth sea and batteries needing charging we start the generator and test the water maker. As recommended for new membranes, we run it for 45minutes, then dumping the made water. Then put some in a bottle and take to Cloudy Bay’s chief water taster. And it gets an immediate thumbs up – perfect. With one tank empty, we first put a few gallons in, then empty again before starting to fill with our now-perfect RO water. We do so love our own made water. Once cruising, we never fill our tanks from any other source.

We arrive to the gap at end of the shoals at 6:15pm, already 45 minutes ahead of plan, and with batteries @100% and watermaker tested OK.
The short 35nm leg from Wrightsville to here was fast and smooth. But our transit passed the shoals, in pitch black darkness, is anything but smooth. No wonder it is called Cape Fear. Firstly, just like the Hatteras, the waves are totally chaotic and Cloudy Bay’s bow regularly dips-in and subsequently throws huge amounts of sea water back along the deck. And with our speed at 9kts, the ride is super uncomfortable. Bit like driving your Ferrari across a roughly ploughed field at full chat!

Secondly the marker buoys. Now, what the hell is the point of having a safe water buoy and 2 channel buoys if they are not lit up? They are shown as present on the chart, but we cannot see them. The only way we could avoid hitting them was because we could identify them on radar. Frankly, they are more of a danger than an aid. Or maybe you are just not supposed to transit this outer gap in the dark? Who knows, but we are glad when we have passed them without any proverbial “bump-in-the-night”. Thank goodness for radar.
In the gap, we make our 40 degrees right turn towards Charleston, and the discomfort finally starts to smooth-out when the water depths get deeper than 20m again. But for a while there, it was pretty wild.
Coming to the gap we had been on a deep run. Now we are on a beam reach fully powered up – and absolutely flying! But then Oana instantly starts to feel ill, so I try to reef down a bit. Genoa furls in fine, but the mainsail refuses to go in. And I realise the halyard has slipped in the clutch and the resulting wrinkle at the foot of the luff is stopping the sail going into the mast slot. I have to go forward and manually poke it in, then it furls-in OK. We get reefed, lose power and the ride gets slightly more comfortable. And “new jaws for halyard clutches” goes onto the shopping list.

I have a short nap in the evening then Oana goes down to sleep at 11pm, not feeling well at all. I really feel bad for her. Here am I reveling in Cloudy Bay’s performance, yet the same spectacle puts Oana into sickness mode. Let’s hope the winds decline as forecast. But right now, close to midnight they are anything but. It’s a constant 20kts with 25kts gust. Spray is flying across the deck and the water rushing past the boat at 9-11 knots is a roar. Above the skyline, the clouds are clearing, and the stars are popping out. And below the water I hear the occasional splash and exhale of breath from dolphins playing around us. This is where I open the back of the tent and look out in wonder. This really is far from the madding (human) crowd. Such dramatic scene and sounds, yet also such beautiful peace in this natural untouched, unspoiled environment that not many have the privilege, or will, to experience.