The first motor I have ever wanted to kiss.

Sibari, Italy---We have had a dilemma on the boat that I did not want to write about. There is a part called the Windlass that stopped working for them somewhere between Gibralter and here.

The Windlass is an electronic device that can pull up our 130 feet of heavy chain and a 65 pound anchor: all by stepping on a button at the bow.

Regardless, it MUST be fixed before we can leave. We have been working on it for over 2 weeks. The Captain did not think it was going to be this much drama or he would have started sooner. He has contacted New Zealand, England and America and gotten emails from even the son of the designer giving advice. Unfortunately, no one’s advice is the same! The motor is not in production so it’s not replaceable. Replacing the entire Windlass would be very expensive ($5,000+) and take at least 2 weeks to ship from New Zealand.

The motor that runs this is a simple small automobile motor, a brand called Lucus. Through this motor’s electric turning under the top deck, the wheel above on the deck has teeth which match up to the chain links pulling the chain from the anchorage and sending it down an opening that piles the chain into the locker below. This means we can pull up the anchor without being a professional body builder. It’s a wonderful thing.

The captain googled the Lucus and found on some discussion sites, the designer is referred to as the “prince of darkness who holds a Paton on short circuits.”

Great, just great.

After spending hours inside the tiny anchor locker at the front of the forward cabin’s bunk, taking it off, trying a few things, reinstalling, testing, taking it off, trying new things, reinstalling, testing, and so on and so on. Nothing was working. The Captain at one point starred it down like attempting a Volcan Mind Melt for at least a half hour. Seeing his anguish over not being able to fix it or figure it out, I started referring to the Windlass as “the part that is not spoken aloud aboard this boat”

Listening to him speaking harshly to it, I suggested to the Captain that we try what I call “the Tara method” and send better vibes to it, encouraging it to start.

Finally we began to seek professional help. On market days, we took the motor, which I started calling “the baby”, wrapped in a carry bag , to several motor shops. Ford (yes Ford) seemed the most promising. First we were SURE it was two sodoring points that needed redoing so we asked them to redo it. No, that wasn’t it. Three more trips to try different things. Finally, the Captain pried the seal off the connection and freed the motor from the casing. We then took the entire motor to the auto shop. Four days later, we picked up what the Captain witnessed to work in the shop environment.

Since, this was one in two things that have held us back from leaving Italy, I have not written about it without the happy ending we desired. But today, with great care we reinstalled the motor and nervously went thru the start routine.
“Breaker on,” one of the kid’s voice rang from the cockpit.
“Are you ready for me to step on it?” another kid’s voice was heard above us on deck.
Under this voice, the Captain and I, halfway crammed in the anchor locker, on our backs, looking up at the motor.
“Yes, go,” the captain shouted as we both took a deep breath and held it.
And at that instant, a whirling noise filled the locker and cabin.

It was the most beautiful sound; the sound of success and the sound of leaving for Greece becoming a much closer reality.

Now, if only the channel was cleared of sand. So, one down, one to go and yet still, we wait.