With old boats you just never know

The author’s trusty Cape Dory 30 ketch. Photo courtesy Carey Reeder.

August 2023

By Carey Reeder

Stuffing box leaks, stiff, unmovable sea valves, electrical gremlins – these are just a few of the worries sailors learn to tolerate while underway; but that should, if possible, be addressed once back in port. But every known issue was once unknown. This is one such story, with the added bonus that what initially appeared quite dire was actually something easily addressed. What’s more, a valuable lesson was learned, and no person or vessel was harmed along the way.

Some years ago, on my Cape Dory 30 ketch, Heron, I cruised from Eastern Point Yacht Club in Gloucester, Mass., to Newport, R.I. From there it was on to Block Island and then a return run to Gloucester. Having left the good company of friends and sailing mates on Block Island, I threaded my way through the tiny harbor entrance of Great Salt Pond and headed for the west end of the Cape Cod Canal. Buzzards Bay is a notoriously rough ride and on this day it did not disappoint; with wind from the southeast and building seas with troughs, it was going to be a real slog.

Several other boats were heading in my direction, so the inevitable race was underway. We all had our engines running to buck the southeast winds and an incoming tide, so the contest was more about keeping together rather than the cold Budweiser at the canal entrance. Ideally, once we’d put this first wide crossing behind us, and were in the lee of Martha’s Vineyard and Cuttyhunk, things would settle down and the sea state would seem more reasonable.

Soon I could see boats making their way to Newport and into the Sakonnet River. It was my plan that day to travel the length of the Cape Cod Canal and spend the night in Sandwich, Mass.

Ruminating on this, I suddenly noticed a tea-kettle smell and felt heat coming from the companionway. I had had my morning coffee and knew I had shut down the stove. What could this be? Peering into the depths of the cabin I now saw clouds of steam, like morning fog, rise before me. The autopilot was doing its thing so I vaulted down the companionway stairs, heart pumping.

The first thing I did was disassemble the box that covered the Cape Dory’s diesel engine, after which I was enveloped in an enormous steam cloud. I checked the engine’s hoses and studied various components looking for cracks. All good. What could be generating all this steam?

I shut the engine down and radioed the nearest vessel that I was having mechanical problems. They, too, had noticed the steam cloud that was pouring out of Heron and assured me they would stand by. A quick review of the charts showed that the closest harbors were those of Padanaram and Cuttyhunk. Alternatively, I could head back toward the Sakonnet River. I checked with the folks aboard my new buddy boat, who said that Padanaram happened to be their home port. The logical choice now apparent, I altered course for the old Padanaram radar dome.

I’d never been to Padanaram, much less sailed into the harbor there. So I did a quick chart review to understand what I was up against. The sea state turned from the classic Buzzards Bay chop into a more agreeable rolling motion, and soon I was entering the funnel of Padanaram’s crowded anchorage. Glassing the field, I saw a number of open moorings. This was an encouraging sign.

After rolling in most of the jib, I went through the steps required for picking up a mooring under sail. It had been a while. Otto the autopilot had done his work; now it was go-time for me. As I closed in on the mooring I dumped the wind in the sails and glided close enough to the pennant to grab it. Once it was made, Heron slid back and turned her bow to the wind. I dropped the sails. My Good Samaritan companions cheered and wished me well before motoring off. I sat in the hatchway and thanked the sea gods that all was well and we were finally safe in harbor.

Another engine inspection revealed no obvious failures. The oil level was fine, the freshwater cooling was fine. And, having been steam-cleaned, the engine looked better than ever.

Where was all the steam coming from? I started the engine and waited for it to reach its running temperature. Ah-ha! There, hidden behind part of the engine block, were signs of a steady leak and an ever-growing trail of steam. Try as I might, though, I couldn’t see the source. A mirror revealed the hidden fissure. Yes, there it was! An old repair at the back of the engine that was covered by epoxy. A bad freeze plug. Fiddling with the old plug, I gasped when it suddenly fell into my hand.

Morning came. Ashore, I learned that there were no West Marines or mechanics nearby, only the local hardware store. Which, not surprisingly, was a bust. Back on the street I noticed an auto parts store that was only a short walk away. No, they were not marine-engine dealers, but they certainly dealt with engines of all shapes and sizes. Five dollars and change later I was on my way back to Heron. A rapid installation of the plug and I was back in the motoring game, headed once more for Gloucester with a very clean engine.

A big thanks to fellow sailors who guided us to port. Also, hats off to Cape Dory for building such a wonderful ketch that motors just fine and also, in a pinch, can be sailed in and out of a tight spot.

Carey Reeder’s earliest boating adventures started during WWII as a child on Chesapeake Bay with his mom and grandmother while his dad was in Europe. Though he sold Heron, his 30-foot Cape Dory ketch in 2002, he has since owned a 36” Pearson Pilot House, and these days, at age 82, gets his boating fix aboard a 1970 Slickcraft 23.5 SH that he keeps in Clinton, Conn. “This allows me to fish at least three days a week,” he wrote. “I miss my sailing adventures, but the fun of striper for dinner makes time on the water supreme.”