And on the 8th day, the engine overheats...

After calibrating MechaRay, we start merrily motor sailing down to Key West.  And then I realize loopy loops, even though I was behind the wheel, have made me vomitosis.

Crap.

I start grazing and taking a breather when my spouse starts yelling SONOFABITCH.

Yes dear?

The #@)($#_* engine is overheating.

Hey, we've played this game before, so everybody to their places, Kim helm, sail up, Tim troubleshoot.

Strainer...clear.

Impeller.....toolboxes go flying, spare parts (and why the HELL are the engine parts at the bottom of the lazaretto under a dinghy and 10 tons of shit?) disassembly, impeller fine.

Shit.

Intake is ...... majorly clogged.

So, did the boatyard leave our anti rodent/insect batting in the intake when they splashed her. Sailboat is sailing fine with me on watch, so Tim makes calls.  Nope. They SWEAR they cleared all the thruhulls.

Hey, Cap. I'm going to hazard a guess it will involve sea grass and us going loopy loop for an hour.

Agreement.

Now what?

Must clear thru hull.  Options:

1. Good old fashioned snake the drain attempt.
2. Use portable shop vac on blow mode.
3. Anchor boat and dive under.
4. Call Towboat U.S.

Tim quickly exhausted Options 1 and 2, and 2a in which he tried with his own lung capacity to blow out the obstruction.  FAIL. 3 was being dismissed because I already said if you make me get in that water, I'm swimming to the nearest Tiki bar.  

We still had 20 miles left in our trip, so it was time to start doing some serious trouble shooting.  The big thing was, we knew what the problem was.  The second big thing was, we were under sail power with a nice brisk northwest wind blowing us on a broad reach and keeping the boat fairly level and still going around 5 kts. (wishing we head the head sail on for a while, but it was fine we didn't).

So, Tim does some research, my adrenaline ebbs away and seasickness returns. Trying to get food in me, but not enough.  I didn't lay in my normal nausea drinks (ginger ale) and food (club or cuban crackers).

So, the moment of epiphany occurs and it plays out like this.

1. Tim: I know what to do!  Kim: Great!
2. Tim starts getting tools ready.
3. Tim needs in lazarette. Kim is heaved over the rail preventing access to lazarette. Tim makes no-no by getting impatient with seasick wife.
4. Tim gets stink eye.  Then gets what he needs from locker.
5. Kim feels better for the heave-ho, asks for water and her trail mix.
6. Tim explains plan.
7. Kim wants to freak out, but remembers the famous anchor the boat with a Torqeedo incident of 2011. Says, okay, it makes sense. The engine is not running. 
8. Tim begins preparations like a mad scientist.
9. Kim says Hey, I see dolphins.  No really. I SEE DOLPHINS. (this has been the code word for me heaving).
10. Tim takes break and we hang out with 8 dolphins and their baby.  No pics, wasn't really a picture taking time.  However, I think Mother Nature sent us a gift for calming our shit down. Baby was cute, like a ornery puppy that was pissing off mom.
11. Back to work.
12. By now, you are wondering. WHAT IS THE PLAN?
13. The plan is to take the intake from the a/c and connect it to the intake for the engine. Switch, switch, crimp crimp and bob's your uncle.
14. Kim starts preparing for immediate sailing into shallows in the event a sudden geyser appears from down below.
15. Tim gives head up on each stage of process which is a good thing.  Kim keeps monitoring potential scuttle points if things go to shit.  In the irony of ironies, we were in the deepest part of Hawk's Channel at that point.
16. Apparently hoses for intakes are not same size. WTF? However, Tim has plan for this. I'm not sure what it was, but Mad Scientist MacGyver was in the don't ask/don't tell part of the operation.
17. Transplant complete. Tim says start the engine.  With one last look at the chart plotter for closest scuttle area. Kim turns on engine.
18. It sputters. IT RUNS.  With a few coughs to clear out the air in her system she starts humming like a baby.
19. No geysers.
20. Super smug husband.

All kidding aside what we did right.

• We allowed ourselves a good 10 minutes of rapid access scenario/freak out.  We got it out of our system.  Got calmed down to do serious analysis of the problem.
• Took time to smell the roses when we knew we were not in immediate danger.  In this case, it was hang out and talk to dolphins.
• Had a thorough understanding of our boat systems, I am not the gear head, but Tim can walk me through 90% of engine problems.  This helps prevent me going "are you sure husband?" and second guessing his every move.
• Communication of each step of the plan, and assurances that the helmsmen was confidently in control of the boat.
• Amazingly, keeping calm during the entire process. Having back up plans in place.

What we did not do so well on:

• Engine parts should not be six feet deep in a locker and under a dinghy. Bad form.
• Tim says, checking the intake for water flow first before worrying about impeller.  He says if he did that first, he could have knocked out several steps.
• The person on watch and helmsmen not having their life vest on.  Alone in the cockpit, even calm conditions, if the other person is incapacitated (i.e. fixing engine), you need to make sure you have double protective measures up top.  In focusing on the engine, we were complete amateurs about the safety, bad, bad, bad.

We got down to Key West Harbor Marina and after having to wait for some jackoff to get his SECOND boat out of our slip, we got in okay.  At which point, we realized that I didn't have enough to eat because of nausea and was a bit hypoglycemic and loopier than HemiD was earlier that day.

Tim finished off his moment of brilliance by taking a hose, cutting off the end, and using it and the city water pressure to blow out the engine intake.  I was manning the faucet on land and saw when the water bubbles came shooting out, to which I proclaimed Happy Day, Boat Farts.  

And welcome back to the marina, Kim!

In the end, it was good.  Big positive learning experience.