An unexpected view

The author did not expect to be looking at the stern of a BoatUS towboat when he set out for a day of exploration on the Kennebec River. Photo courtesy Tim Plouff

Fall 2023

By Tim Plouff

It was shaping up to be one of those summer days that boaters dream about; clear skies, soft southerly breeze, and a warm sun. With the truck and boat prepped for travel, I hit the road just after sunrise headed south for Bath and a day on the Kennebec River and the other intracoastal rivers in the region. My younger brothers Jeff and Gary, plus Gary’s daughter, Juliet, would be my crew.

Pulling away from the North End dock in Bath, the outgoing tide and a stronger-than-predicted southerly wind were producing a large chop. Still, we were making 7 knots over ground just above idle-speed as my 21-foot Searay, Tegoak, bobbed and weaved past the guarded waterfront along Bath Iron Works (BIW). Jeff gave us a run-down on the frigates on the hard and in the dry-dock, as only his 35-plus years of working on countless ships at BIW could provide. We were basically alone in the river except for a SeaTow boat whose captain gave us a hearty wave, as I muttered out loud, “that’s an ominous sign.”

Rounding the bend in the river at Doubling Point Light, the waves settled down and I clicked the shift lever into neutral to show everyone the power of the Kennebec’s outgoing current – we were doing 3.5-knots floating, and we were already past mid-tide.

Passing Fort Popham and the expansive (and always changing) sands of Popham Beach State Park, the wind/tide battle was creating the close-cropped rollers and heavy swell that the mouth of the Kennebec is famous for. The dialogue inside the boat darkened as the bow dipped ever more steeply into each approaching swell – clearly, the two-mile ride out to Sequin Island, our primary destination, would not be pleasant.

A quick turn at the bottom of a large swell quickly got us surfing back towards Fort Popham and calmer waters. The crew became less anxious.

Part two of the planned day was to visit more islands around Boothbay, so we abandoned the Sequin Island leg and steamed back up the Kennebec and turned east at the Arrowsic Bridge to enter the Sasanoa River. The twisty ride up the Sasanoa is always one of my favorites, with its numerous navigational aids that strain against the heavy flow in the shallow, relatively narrow river, and the constricted passageways through Upper and Lower Hell’s Gates.

Just outside Robinhood Cove, I cut the motor and we enjoyed lunch aboard, floating. Juliet listened to the stories of our youth growing up in the era of Ozzie and Harriet, with mom and dad walking to work, and she described to us what life in the city of Portland was like. It felt good to catch up and laugh, while we littered the boat’s carpet with crumbs.

After lunch I turned the ignition key to hear an odd growling, and then nothing. Opening the engine compartment, I twisted the battery switch to a fresher battery and the 5.0-liter V-8 fired right up.

We continued on down the Little Sheepscot River, past MacMahan Island, across the wide-open Sheepscot River to Southport, and then down the no-wake Townsend Gut, where we exited the rivers and picked up a mooring off Burnt Island near the entrance to Boothbay Harbor.

After going ashore to tour the restored grounds and visit the lighthouse on the island, we rowed my inflatable back to Tegoak, where turning the ignition key again produced more engine compartment clatter – and then nothing. Up with the engine cover again. I maneuvered the battery switch, checked connections, and made other visual inspections. Everything seemed fine. The fuel pump was firing, and we had plenty of voltage. “Jeff, turn the key again,” I said. When he did there were several loud metallic banging noises, followed by smoke rising from the back of the engine. A burning electrical smell filled the cockpit. Worse yet, the ignition key was “frozen” in the on position. Clearly, we had suffered a significant failure.

The mood aboard was now somber.

For over a dozen years Tegoak has been insured with BoatUS; now was the time to call the company and request a tow. Jim at their call center was a consummate professional. We were on a mooring, we did not have a fire, and the weather was fine. We were safe, which was his priority. He got our information, plotted our location, and dispatched the closest BoatUS towboat, which was nearby. Minutes later Captain Steve texted us and said he would be there in about a half hour.

Captain Steve arrived and he and Jeff connected – both had worked at BIW and were now retired. An easy banter broke out and Captain Steve took command of the situation, quickly securing his heavy tow line to Tegoak’s bow. With my unlimited tow coverage, he would pull us wherever we needed to go. “North End dock, Bath, please,” I said. Captain Steve told us to settle in, trim the motor as best we could, put on our lifejackets, and enjoy the six-knot cruise.

While certainly not the expected view, the restful ride back up the Sasanoa gave me a chance to see things I typically don’t while driving my boat. The normally heavy boat traffic was thankfully light, which meant fewer wakes and less embarrassment for us, a boat in tow.

Two hours later, we rafted up with Captain Steve so he could place us right on the dock. A bad situation couldn’t have worked out any better, and everyone was grateful for “AAA on the water.” Everyone was beaming again – it was a good day on the water, they said. I wasn’t so sure. The timing was great, though; powerful thunderheads were building to the north.

Two days later, after dropping the boat off at Port Harbor Marine in Holden, I got some bad news: The engine had hydro-locked, apparently from a leaking head-gasket. Only one bank of cylinders were wet, but the damage was catastrophic. The metallic sounds I heard – the clangs – were big metal pieces doing things they were not designed to do. The starter was also toast. They had to cut the key out of the ignition.

In my conversation with Brian, the mechanic at Port Harbor, I remarked that once or twice the boat labored slightly coming out of the “hole” and getting onto a plane but would then power along nicely. We were, after all, carrying over 800-pounds of people and parcels, so mentally I attributed the extra weight (and the tide) to the lower performance. In retrospect, the engine sounded normal and generally behaved normally, with no indication that something major was occurring.

After exploring several options – some overly expensive, some unpleasant – I elected to purchase a remanufactured 5.0-liter long-block. We would reuse all the serviceable parts from the otherwise well-maintained engine, but replace the starter, alternator and any other worn parts, while retaining the barely year-old risers. The gimbal bearing, bellows, and other out-drive parts would be upgraded as well during the transition, as the hope would be that the “new” motor would return some of the SeaRay’s former performance luster. The original engine had 1,224 hours on it and would now be a core project for someone else.

By fall, I hoped, Tegoak would be back in the water and making more memories. With only two complete trips in the logbook in 2023, it hadn’t been much of a season. You’ll know soon enough if our plans worked out and whether or not our 24-year-old SeaRay lives for another day.

Tim and his wife, Kathryn, the navigator, live lakeside in Otis, Maine, 30 minutes from Acadia, where they trailer-boat up and down the Maine coast with their 2000 Sea Ray 21-foot express cruiser Tegoak.