Battling Onan Lindsay McRory October 7, 1996 In recent days I have a new pain. And its name is Onan. We have waged a constant battle with our Onan generator, trying to keep it going for the past week. It's hard to believe that in this short span of time we have had to replace a freshwater pump, a heat exchanger, a fuel line, fixed two different clogged fuel lines, and rebuilt both primary Racor fuel filters. Our generator only had 215 hours on it when we purchased the boat, but in all fairness it is almost 15 years old and with such little use it might as well have 5,000 hours on it. On top of these generator projects, my "daytime" job has gone ballistic with a blaze of new projects, demos, and more projects. Back at the office in Canada, they don't care that I have to rebuild the fuel system in order to start the generator to recharge the batteries to use the satellite system to upload work. Lately our typical day has been one of contrast. My latest work projects involve advanced compiler and computer performance theory. I get up well before sunrise and have work done by 8 a.m., which is when the kids get up no matter what they did the night before. Once breakfast and schooling are finished, I go and try to kill dinner with a spear. After that, I assume the role of diesel mechanic. But hopefully not for the rest of the day. If the wind is up we turn into a family of "board heads" and wind surf for a few hours every afternoon. Kita and Wes rig up with a 1.3-meter sail and buzz around the harbor until the wind builds to over 10 knots. Then it's dads turn. I often wonder if we are moving backward or forward on the evolutionary scale. How many people get to work in advanced science, school their kids, and kill their food with a spear? I have been asked many questions lately about pirates in the Caribbean. It really depends on your definition of pirates. If you mean the people that board your boat while you're underway and kill you or set you afloat, I have never heard of that. If you mean people that board your boat while at anchor, hoping to steal something, it happens. It's not as bad as you might think. The people that do this are usually very poor and only looking for food and clothing. A bright light and loud shouts will usually scare them away. In Venezuela the banditos usually go for the electronics as well as cash, food, and clothes. It's no worse than having your home broken into, although it happens far less often on the boat. The worse pirates can be other cruisers. Some people cast off their docklines and set sail for warmer climes without a penny in the cruising kitty. Since we've been in Luperon, I've observed two examples of what can happen. The sailing vessel LaBreeze, a 40-foot sloop, was 12 miles off the Turks and Caicos. No engine and no wind. She requested assistance over channel 16. A 27-foot sailing sloop Hey Driver was an hour away and came to her assistance. Before towing LaBreeze, the skipper of Hey Driver made the skipper of LaBreeze sign over a Lloyds of London maritime salvage contract, essentially giving up ownership of the boat. Once in Sappodilla Bay the skipper of Hey Driver charged $1,200 for a five hour tow. LaBreeze is still here in Luperon. The skipper had to go back to the United States to make some more money to continue cruising. They say what goes around comes around. And it did. When Hey Driver was in Luperon, he had to drop all of his anchors to get out of the way of the engineless, drifting freighter Valerie. No sooner were the anchors down when they were found with a grapnel hook by a guy who calls himself Jet on the boat Ishtar. Well, Hey Driver got his anchors back, but it cost him $100 for a few minutes work. Most cruiser's bitterly complain when they think some street merchant is trying to overcharge them 100 pesos for a pair of sandals. That 100 pesos is only around $7, and is a small bean in the bucket compared to what you'll lose if you get messed up with one of these guys, these cruising pirates. Unfortunately the no-income, no-savings cruisers are genuinely charming. If they weren't, they wouldn't be able to stay out so long. They are usually the one's who first come to visit when you just arrive (I call it the butt sniffing expedition). Through out that first conversation they casually mention how much work they do for other boaters. Denise and I enjoy meeting other boaters, but it's polite to wait at least a half day or so to let people get settled in before bugging them. The cruising bandito is usually charming any new arrival before the anchors hit bottom. Thankfully only a very small percentage of cruisers scrape the bottom of the moral bucket. We have ran across only four or five boats that we make sure to steer clear of. Conversely it is entertaining to see what these guys try to get away with from a distance. Down here it's Florida rules: do you own work, ask questions of other boaters but learn from your own mistakes, and most of all don't let anyone else in your engine room. We have targeted the first or second week in November to head to Puerto Rico. It's enjoyable being here so we don't feel an urgent need to leave.