Well......I finally tackled the oil change. Not nearly as hairy as I had been led to believe (but then, I was an aircraft mechanic for many years, so maybe I'm jaded by the idea of what's really hairy).

I decided to do the job early in the morning, prior to the cold fronts arrival, which was forecast with accompanying winds to 45 miles an hour from the northwest, and then show up at work afterward.

The weather was pretty perfect with winds from the south-southwest around 15 to 20 creating a nice breeze down below.  I was meticulous about having things prepared in advance, and folded back the cushions on the pilot berths, removed the port forward seating area cushion, arranged the tools, got the replacement oil filter from under the dinette, arranged a few stratigically placed rags, and then got after the program. I felt like a surgeon getting ready to do a liposuction.

The first matter though was to visit Jean up in the office at Anchor, and pay Olivias keep for another month. When I got up there the inhabitant of the sofa-cruiser (see entry titled "No Jimmy Buffett Dream") was up there talking to her. I walked out on the deck, but Jean told me to come inside anyway, and it didn't take me a split second to realize why. The guy was pretty agitated, as he explained his various conflicts and the reasons why the other marina and surrounding neighbors had called her to complain about him on her day off. She wasn't too happy. I'm beginning to get the feeling that with no visable means of support, living aboard a semi-derelict scow, perhaps supplementing his lifestyle by less than above board means - this guy is quite possibly stereotypical harbor flotsom. But I could be wrong. He did however, become quite loud and animated in his own defense of what he apparently views as stellar and innocent motives.

Later though, after he left, Jean had other observations, alluding to questionable behavior....

We also discussed the upcoming boat parade, of which I am going to MC. Oh joy. How do I get into these things? We're also going to dress up Olivia, and Commander David is going to drive her for that portion. We're going to wait till Saturday though as there looks to be a weather window then, hopefully lasting through the parade, Sat. evening. Looks to be something like 18 boats, including USCG, DHS, TPWD, sail and power vessels. My friend Gary with Sol Mates is entering again this year, and will more than likely win. He goes all out. So does Night Magic. Being our first year, limited budget and my committment as MC we'll probably suck the tailpipe on this one......

So, the second matter was to go on down to Olivia and change the oil. I poured  some diesel conditioner in the tank, warmed up the engine and let the oil come up to temperature. The Westerbeke has a drain hose from the banjo fitting on the oil drain screw, which attaches to a bracket on the front of the engine, so it was a relatively easy job to just unscrew the nut from the fitting on the hose end, push the adapter from the hand pump onto it, loosen the oil filler cap and pump the old oil into an empty one gallon container. Virtually no mess, although the few tiny splatters of used black oil made pretty significant stains when I wiped them up.

Next I tackled the filter, which is located on the starboard side of the engine, and is only accessible through a hatch cover beneath the starboard pilot berth. It is in a location just custom made for a mess, since there is virtually no way to avoid spilling some oil on removal. First though, I filled the new filter with oil and placed it carefully within reach in order to immediately thread it on. I stuffed some old rags under the old filter, against the block lest any oil find its way into the spotlessly clean bilge......

Unscrewing the old oil filter as quickly as possible (it's times like this that being left handed is really a drawback), and quickly dropping the used filter in a plastic bag, I grabbed the new one, and after about two or three mis-tries finally got it to thread on the fitting and whirrled it around until it seated, going about 1 flat past hand tight. I stopped then to sip some coffee and survey the damage. Using some simple green, I cleaned up the little bit of oil on the side of the block and engine mount. I carted the used oil, filter and hand pump up to the dock before I could cause a tragic mess in the cabin. I threaded the nut back on the drain hose, and sat back to survey the situation again.

Filling the block with new Rotella (not Rotell....that's a tomato sauce!) was pretty anticlimactic, except when I checked the dip stick, it looked like I was maybe just a tiny bit high in level, so I went back to the dock, retrieved the used oil and hand pump, unthreaded the nut from the drain hose and pulled two strokes of oil from the case, bringing the level to exact. I guess I still have a mechanics heart, if not slightly retentive nature.

I ran the engine, checking for leaks, cracking the cooling system petcock vents just to ensure that there was no air in the system from replacing the fresh water pump (there wasn't). When I was convinced that everything was good, I shut down, wiped up any oil and dirt down below with simple green, reassembled everything, checked the mooring lines and headed to the island. Within an hour, the storm arrived as predicted with battering high winds, a little rain, and much colder temperatures. I checked on Olivia around 1800 and all was well, although the San Juan and the MacGregor in the slips on either side of me were against their leeward docks, shoved over by the wind and inadequate tie downs. I gave the standing rigging of the San Juan the once over too, noticing that his roller furling headsail was beginning to shred again. In winds like this derelict boats become lethal weapons to everyone elses boats. Everything seemed good though, and I returned home around 1930. This morning, the winds have dropped, the air is cold (40's) and everything at the marina looked OK.