www.GriffinUpdates.com

Griffin Update #14: Fire and Flames in the Engine Room......On purpose this time.
Tuesday, May 12, Griffin In Dry-dock, Belle Isle Boatyard, Hampton, Virginia, Absentee Pennant Flying.

When we last left off, Griffin was waiting at Saltponds Marina in Hampton for new props from Mike Kilcoin at Jacksonville Propeller. Thank god I have two professionals like Mike at Jax Prop, and Joe Pisula at Hampton Marine taking care of me. Jointly they figured out that I had a non-standard prop/shaft configuration and they are in the process of setting things right. I've learned long ago that the initial excitement of success you get from jury rigging a make-shift solution to engineering problems fades quickly when other things start to come unglued down the line. When we are all done with our current evolution, I will have a standard configuration for my props and can go forward from a known point.

By the way, with all this discussion of props, groundings, excuses, etc., my good friend Fred Riedel has told me I sound like President Clinton: "I didn't do anything wrong when I ran aground, but even if I did do something wrong, it's O.K. because everybody else is doing it too." I think I am going to shut up at this point about props and move on to other subjects.

Before I leave the prop issue forever, I need to explain the Fire and Flames headline, and let you know why Griffin is back out of the water, in dry-dock, so to speak. When Joe dove in the water to install the new props, as we all suspected, they wouldn't fit far enough on the shaft to get the prop nut on securely. Joe and I conferred and decided to have Joe drive the boat, single engine, to his maintenance boatyard and pull her out of the water. The plan was to pull the two prop shafts out of the boat and take them to a local prop shop and have them cut down on a lathe to match the standard taper of the new props.

I don't think I had mentioned to Joe, but when I had the prop shaft packing replaced last winter, just before the southbound trip, the local Annapolis Volvo mechanic, Dick Vosbury, had a hell of a time with the starboard diesel shaft coupling. It was frozen with corrosion and he finally figured out a way to do the maintenance he needed without loosening the shaft.

Well, when Joe went to slip the prop shafts out of the boat, you may be able to guess what happened. Nothing. Lots of force, penetrating oil, banging, cursing and begging had no effect. The prop shafts were corroded into the boat. Great. Another exciting aspect of owning a "Project Boat".

Taking the entire boat to the machine shop and backing her into a lathe was not an option. Heat! That's the ticket! Joe and his guys took a blow-torch into the engine room. The fire and flames licked the bronze coupling, heating it faster than the stainless steel propeller shaft. One of Joe's guys turned, twisted and pulled on the shaft from outside the hull. They banged, they cursed, they yanked and finally 12 years of corrosion gave way. Out slid the starboard shaft. By tomorrow the port shaft should give way to the efforts of Joe and Co., and then off to the machine shop they go. I can hardly wait to have my new props and reconditioned shafts back in the boat.

Tom and I have been reminiscing about some of our adventures that never made it into the updates. There were two little stories we though we would share that might give you a little more flavor of the waterway. The first is the Belhaven Haircut:

When we were trying to come up with replacement props in Belhaven, North Carolina on the last Saturday of our northbound trip, Tom decided to use the time he had available to get a haircut. If you remember from Update #11, I was off driving around in the General Lee on the set of the Dukes of Hazard trying to get some old replacement props turned on a lathe at a backwoods NASCAR machine shop.

When we flew south to Miami to start the homeward bound ICW trip, Tom's hair was sort of in need of a trim. Running Griffin northbound for every daylight hour for eleven days, he hadn't had an opportunity to get a haircut. Upon our return home to Maryland after the trip, Tom expected to be right back into work full bore. He had a huge project starting the first Monday we would be back, of moving his real estate office and 35 agents into a new building, so he wasn't going to have time then. Saturday in Belhaven was his best bet for a haircut.

Tom asked one of the locals where he could get a haircut. We both checked out the local's hair. He looked O.K. His reference would probably be alright. Two choices, Tom was told. There was this dirt alley with a house on it. Go up to the back porch and there were two girls there who cut hair. Tom's eyebrow raised. What else went on in there, we pondered.

The other choice. The barber shop on main street. We envisioned Floyd the Barber, from the old Andy of Mayberry TV show. Pretty accurate as it turned out.

Tom asked the local where he went. "Oh, the girls", he smiled, a little sheepishly. I reluctantly hopped in the General Lee and took off in the opposite direction, in search of the machine shop. Tom climbed into the car with the local, and headed out for the back alley hair salon.

It turned out to be anticlimactic. It really is just a hair salon. They must be the best in town as there was a long line and they couldn't fit Tom in. Tom went back up to Main Street to the Barber Shop.

When he got there, a sign was in the window. It said, "I will be here every Saturday this month cutting hair except for March 28th, when I will be away. On that day, my brother Harold will be cutting hair in my place." Tom checked today's date: March 28th. He looked in the window at the totally empty barber shop. What a contrast from the "Girls" who were doing a land office business in hair care. Harold was sitting in his brother's barber chair with his feet up reading a paper. Tom pushed open the door and walked in.

Harold wasn't exactly happy to see Tom come through his door. He reluctantly put down his paper and climbed out of the chair. After establishing that Tom did in fact want a haircut, and didn't want to wait until Monday when the real barber returned, they got down to business.

Tom climbed into the still warm barber chair, and Harold draped the cloth over him and clipped it tight to his neck. The stiff tissue Harold used around the collar reminded Tom of his earliest haircut growing up near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. All set, Harold reached over for the electric clippers instead of the scissors Tom was expecting. Tom soon learned the reason why.

Harold may have been a good part-time barber in his day, but a man has to know his limitations. At this point in his life, sharp scissors near somebody's ears was not a risk Harold was willing to take. His hands shook rhythmically as he moved the electric clippers back and forth near Tom's head. Tom could hear the Doppler shift as the clippers whined past his ears. He hoped he would get a fairly even cut in spite of Harold's twitchy grip.

After several minutes, Harold stepped back and spun Tom around in the chair to look in the mirror. Tom blinked. What had Harold done? What was cut? It didn't look any different. Tom looked at Harold. "Take a little more off, please." Harold went back to work.

After several minutes of buzzing from the clippers, Tom spun around and looked. Still almost no hair had been cut. He reassured Harold. Go for it. Cut huge clumps of hair. Make it short. Harold bent to the task. The third time would be the charm. He triumphantly spun Tom around to face the music in the mirror. "Looks great," Tom said as he paid up and left.

When he got back to the boat, not knowing the story, and hoping for exciting tales of the back alley salon, I asked what happened. He was silent, but with the same sheepish grin the local had earlier. I looked Tom over.

The hair still curled over his collar. Unkempt wisps of hair jutted over his ears. I asked him, "I thought you were going to get a haircut?" The eyebrow went up. I changed the subject.

I am planning to bring Griffin up the bay on Saturday, May 23rd. I will either fly down to Hampton, or take a one-way rental car down, and then blast north up the bay in 8 hours. I remember back in my old, pre-ICW days when I thought 135 miles in a day on Griffin was a big deal. It's a light day now after 2,500 miles on the waterway.

Anyway, if you are interested in joining the trip and living some of the adventure you have been reading about, drop me an e-mail. We always have room for more crew, and it won't cost you anything. Tom has proposed a little Griffin Crew Test that he wants you to take to make sure you have the mettle for life in the updates. Here is the test:

(1) First you have to foul a prop, throw it in your neighbors pool, jump in, clear it underwater, and then retrieve it.

(2) You have to answer this trivia question: "What was the pig's name?"

You might remember that in the last update we ran out of time before we got to the story of "BLANK the pig". The specific pig story isn't that important. What it signified for us, was more significant.

Over the course of eleven days and numerous adventures, misadventures, trials and tribulations, Tom and I had hours and hours to talk. While we have known each other pretty well for many years, it's rare today that you get to spend so much time with somebody outside your nuclear family. During our voyage we ended up dredging up deep memories we had nearly forgotten ourselves. One of my stories would trigger a memory of his and vice versa, and we ended up swapping life anecdotes for 1,200 miles.

We were steaming along in the Carolinas near mile 150 of the ICW when I asked Tom a question: "What was your brother's pig's name?" "Moonbeam", he replied. It came back to me. "That's right. You said that at mile 820. At least you're being consistent." (We counted down the miles from 1,077 to 0 as we headed north, in case you didn't remember.)

We figured that if we were down to re-telling the story of Moonbeam the pig, we had probably delved the depths of our lives and it was time to get off the boat. Actually, we found during the course of the trip that we were very compatible as crew. Working so closely side by side running the boat, the crew needs to get along, or it could really alter the enjoyment of the trip. We both had similar expectations and goals for the trip and that contributed a lot to crew morale. I was very lucky in my crew choice for both the southbound and northbound trips.

That's it for now. Look for one more pre-underway update the middle of next week, and definitely let me know if you are interested in making the trip north. With everything re-done in the engine room and running gear, Griffin should be running like a top!

Warm regards,

The Griffin Crew and mascot, Moonbeam the Pig

P.S. to Tom's Parents: If you have an old picture of Moonbeam, please send it to Tom. We'll scan the photo and put Moonbeam up on the Internet! Now isn't that technology in action!

Next >>