Three days later -- it's all about the battery charger

It was sunny and hot, but 5-10 knot winds were promised and it appeared that our batteries were recharged. We set off about noon motoring toward the north to the South River (strange but true), expecting our batteries would continue to charge. The GPS, autopilot and bow thruster worked as they should so we thought all was well.

About two hours out, the wind died and the heat was starting to weaken our resolve to keep pushing north. In short order we decided to return to the dock where we could spend the night with air conditioning. We are not going to be bloodly fools! And there as we turned, suddenly we had wind. It took us east across the bay to Bloody Point, but we didn't care as the diesel was silenced and the sails were filled. After several tacks and wind changes, we arrived home in the late sweaty afternoon. Into swim suits we jumped and off to the pool for an hour to drop our body temperatures. While cooking dinner we spied that the battery charge was dropping. We sighed and went to bed hoping the sea gods would miraculously make it all better.

Monday morning: Freezer and frig are "dead meat". I hurried to transfer food into the reliable rubbermaid ice chest with bagged ice. Phone calls and exploratory work in the boats bowels revealed a possible problem source - the battery charger was not functioning -- not a peep from its annoying little motor! It wasn't the batteries, it was the battery charger. Call in the surgeon! Three hours later a deft electrical blond hottie with lamp on forehead, diagnosed the problem to be a blown 10amp250volt fuse. With tweezers and plyers he removed the offending part from the battery charger and replaced it. The good news is that the fuse protected the batteries from exploding. The bad news is such a small, hidden, and inexpensive device can confuse the hell out of us. For John's birthday, I'm getting him a "Zantrec Lite" amp meter. Forever in the future we will read our battery charge and draw down from a small meter at the chart table, just like a gas guage in the dashboard of a car.

Tomorrow we sail -- not north necessarily, but whereever the wind takes us -- probably southeast into the Choptank or north east into the Eastern Bay. The goal is to watch spendid fireworks from the deck of Forte Vento while listening to the Sirius radio play rousing, patriotic music.