The morning came, and we were right in gear with everything we needed. We stopped by Dunkin Donuts to provide breakfast for the 2 Captains we were having on board.

One was (retired) Captain Mike, a raunchy USMC Vietnam Vet who knew more about our boat than the guy we bought it from. He lived at Marinatown, and was more or less just coming along for the ride. The second was Captain Russell, the 200ton Master Captain, whom we hired to train us to become proficient yachtsmen.

When getting the boat ready for sea, Captain Russell asked us if our gas gauges worked. I explained that the guy we bought it from said it worked and we had 1/8th of a tank. When we cranked her up, however, the gauges leaned more towards the “E” than the 1/8 line.

Captain Russell turned to me and asked if we would make it to the fuel dock at the Fort Myers Yacht Basin, and in my head I’m like “well hell, I don’t know. You tell me!” So, long story short, Captain Russell and I headed to the gas station, red cans in hand, while we left Tiff to fend for herself with Captain Mike and his arsenal of dirty jokes.

We returned, fueled up and were finally ready to take off! The plan was for Capt. Russell to get us off the dock, and then we would take over the helm. As we backed out to leave the marina, Captain Russell asked, “Didn’t you say your temperature gauges weren’t working?” I nodded yes. He said, “Well they’re working now.”

Surprised and relieved, I smiled and replied, “oh yeah?!” He said, “Yeah… the port side engine is overheating.”

Not knowing what to say, I ran down to the cabin, and as sure as the sky is blue, I was greeted with the smell of coolant and gray smoke coming from the port engine. So, I ran back up to the fly bridge to report that it has in fact overheated. “I know, because it just shut off,” Captain Russell responded. Great, I thought my myself, both Plan A and B are now ruined. The one confirmed “good engine” shut off, and would not crank back up!

On one engine, Captain Russell, got us to the fuel dock. Tiff and Captain Mike pumped $600 worth of gas, which didn’t even fill her up mind you, while me and Captain Russell investigated what happened with the port engine.

As we opened the hatch, we saw that the hose blew off of the heat exchanger. Thankfully, an easy fix… if it weren’t for the 7 gallons of coolant that spilt everywhere, soaking the starter or the ignition to the point where she would no longer fire up.

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After climbing through the bilges and trying multiple solutions, all we came away with was $600 worth of fuel, one working engine, and the Captain’s ruined white polo shirt. Getting off the dock wasn’t easy with the wind and current ripping against us, but at last, we were finally on our way, traveling at about 5 knots, on the bad knocking engine.

Believe it our not, the trip was mostly uneventful from that point on as far as the boat’s performance. We did manage to hit a massive rainstorm, which left us trying to peek through our cloudy Isan glass that we had no idea how to clean yet. (Such boat newbs, I know). Capt Russell graciously shared great advice on how to take care of the Isan glass, and lots of other things we had yet to tackle on board. After all, we had plenty of time to chat.

I mentioned before that we had hired a mechanic to get our engines tuned up and ready for sea. Well apparently the $1,300 we paid him didn’t include tightening down a hose clamp that led to our blown hose and inoperable port engine. Pissed, Captain Russell suggested we give him a call and let him know how great of a job he did. Needless to say, that conversation wasn’t pretty. Not only did he try to insult my mechanical knowledge, he steeped outside of professional boundaries and made personal threats to “arrange a time and place” to settle the score.

Mind you, he was pushing 65 years in age and inches in height. I couldn’t believe the little frumpy old man was getting froggy with a guy who just finished up 8 years on the Govt’s payroll in the most violent organization. He was speaking a language that I knew very well, and after going toe-to-toe with one of the most dangerous terrorist groups in the world, he was far from a threat and not even worth my time. So, I held my composure and reeled the conversation back in. He needed not try and fight his way out. He simply needed to make right his mistakes, which is how the conversation ended.

Needless to say, we had our share of entertainment on board. We exchanged jokes, advice, and donuts – and soon realized we probably should have bought actual food alongside the donuts. Oh well, 5+ hours later… the marina was in sight!