Day 250

Yanmar Test and Transom Repair

At dawn the air hung heavy and the barometer read 998 hPa. Kevin and Jenny stood by the dinghy while the Yanmar idled in the water. "Sounds clean at idle. Let's see how she takes the gear," Kevin said. "Slow it down. Watch the stern. If it shudders, the bracket is shearing the bolts," Jenny replied. Kevin felt vibration in the wood, not the water. The bolt holes were wallowed; the transom was compressed, not rotted. They agreed to sister a hardwood knee with a wider backing plate. Kevin measured the cutless bearing clearance at 0.3 mm. "Bearing's at 0.3mm — still okay. But if the mount's soft, we're just buying time. I'll cut the sister knee while you drill." Jenny drilled deeper than the surface rot, finding decay extending 40 mm further and compromising the main support mortise. They located longer stainless through-bolts (10 mm x 150 mm) and a nearly empty tub of epoxy. At midday Kevin sent a radio packet: "Tom, this is Kevin. Sorrel Island. Packet two. All well here. Engine running. Garden holding. Supply boat due in four days. No reply needed. Just wanted you to know. Kevin out." Jenny moved the heirloom seed tin from the shrine to the cottage as the barometer fell. Evening meal was boiled limpets and sautéed sea beet. Jenny's hands shook. "It's just the weather. 32 degrees is enough to melt anyone," she said. Kevin replied, "Aye. Heat does odd things to the blood." They ate slowly, the wind rattling through the palm canopy.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Yanmar Inspection

Kevin and Jenny stand by the dinghy while the Yanmar engine idles in the water. The air is heavy and still as the barometer shows a slow drop to 998 hPa.

The morning air is heavy and still as the barometer continues its slow drop. At the dock, the tide is pulled far out, exposing the slick rocks and the lower sections of the dock supports. Kevin and Jenny stand by the dinghy, the Yanmar engine cooling from previous tests as they prepare for the final load check.

🔧 Kevin07:33

Sounds clean at idle. Let's see how she takes the gear.

Shift into forward gear at low RPM, gradually increasing throttle to half while watching the prop wash and feeling for vibration through the tiller.

💭 thought

Engine's running smooth at idle. No smoke, no knock. But that vibration above half throttle — prop shaft or the mast bracket alignment. Need to load it proper before the supply boat window closes.

🌿 Jenny07:34

Slow it down. Watch the stern. If it shudders, the bracket is shearing the bolts.

Squat down and place a flat palm against the transom, feeling the frequency of the engine through the wood.

💭 thought

The vibration is still there; it's not the prop, it's the mount fighting the soft wood.

🔧 Kevin07:35

Yeah, I feel it. Vibration's in the wood, not the water. Doubler plate's likely shifted under load.

Kill the engine, raise the dinghy slightly with the jack from the cockpit locker, and inspect the mast bracket mounting — check for gap between the doubler plate and the transom, and see if the bolts are pulling the wood fibers.

💭 thought

She's right — feel it now, a low thrum through the transom. Not the prop, not the shaft. The bracket's moving. Those through-bolts might be tight, but the spruce is compressing or the doubler plate isn't seating fair.

🌿 Jenny07:35

Look at the way holes. If they're egged out, the whole transom is shot.

Pull one of the bolts out and poke the wood with a pocket knife.

💭 thought

He's right, the wood is like mush under that pressure. I should have seen the rot earlier.

🔧 Kevin07:37

Holes are wallowed. Transom's compressed, not rotted. We can sister it with a hardwood patch — seal it, bolt through with backing plate.

Pull the remaining bolt, clean the hole with the awl, and mix a small batch of epoxy to fill and reinforce the bolt holes before redrilling.

💭 thought

Bolt comes out dry. Wood's soft where the knife sinks in — not rot, but compressed, crushed fibers around the bolt hole. Transom's taking the load, and it's giving. Not shot, but wounded. Needs a proper load spreader.

🌿 Jenny07:37

If we don't use a wider backing plate, the bolts will just pull through the next time we hit a swell.

Grab the own and sketch the bracket alignment to see where the stress is concentrating.

💭 thought

It's just compression, but the structural integrity is gone. A patch is a band-aid on a broken limb.

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the dock · morning

Morning Work at the Dock

The tide begins to slow its retreat as the heavy air lingers. Kevin and Jenny gather the tools for the transom repair.

Kevin measured the Yanmar's cutless bearing clearance at 0.3mm and began sistering a new knee to reinforce the soft transom wood, while Jenny drilled out the rotten dock planks and found the decay extends deeper than expected, requiring longer bolts and more epoxy.

🌿 Jenny07:40

Pass me the long drill bit, Kevin. We need to go deeper than the rot.

Kneels on the dock, pressing the pocket knife into the wood to test the density of the fibers.

💭 thought

The wood is like wet cardboard; if I don't reinforcement this now, the whole engine will pull right through the bolts when I hit a swell.

🔧 Kevin07:41

Here. (I hand her the long drill bit from the tool roll, wiping salt off the shank.)

Kneel beside Jenny on the dock, watching her probe the wood with the knife, then pull out my micrometer to measure the cutless bearing clearance on the Yanmar prop shaft while she works.

💭 thought

The vibration’s still there under half-throttle. Cutless bearing’s got play—I need to check it before I run her again. Jenny’s testing the transom; if the rot’s deep, we’ll sister a new knee. I should’ve done this weeks ago.

🌿 Jenny07:41

Focus on the clearance, Kevin. I need to know if the shaft is wobbling before I start drilling.

Positions the drill bit over the center of the largest hole, pressing down until the metal bites into the damp wood.

💭 thought

He's focused on the bearing, but the way is what's failing—if the mounting doesn't hold, the engine alignment doesn't matter.

🔧 Kevin07:43

Checking. (I set the dial indicator on the shaft, zero it, and rotate the prop by hand.)

Mount the dial indicator on the Yanmar's prop shaft, zero the needle, and rotate the propeller slowly by hand to measure cutless bearing clearance, calling out the reading.

💭 thought

She's right. Check the bearing first, then we'll know if the shaft's true enough to drill without making it worse.

🌿 Jenny07:43

It's tight for now, but the wood around the housing is too soft to trust the plate.

Presses her weight into the drill bit, watching the wood fibers curl away and wet.

💭 thought

It's within tolerance, but barely. One more heavy load and the vibration will shake the bolts right out of this rot.

🔧 Kevin07:45

Bearing’s at 0.3mm—still okay. But if the mount’s soft, we’re just buying time. I’ll cut the sister knee while you drill.

Stand up, grab the crowbar and salvaged plank from the dock repair pile, and move to the starboard side of the transom to begin sistering a new knee with epoxy and through-bolts, keeping an eye on Jenny’s drilling progress.

💭 thought

The bearing’s within spec for now, but if the housing’s rotting, the plate won’t hold. We need to sister the knee before we load the shaft again.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday checks and the supply boat letter

Kevin is at the keeper's cottage preparing the radio letter; Jenny is at the garden inspecting the heirloom seed tin and culling diseased seedlings.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🌿 Jenny07:47

Not today. Not all of you.

Use the tweezers to pluck the infected seedlings from the soil and drop them into the waste bucket.

💭 thought

If I don't pull these now, the whole tray is gone. The rot is moving too fast.

🔧 Kevin07:49

Tom, this is Kevin. Sorrel Island. Packet two. All well here. Engine running. Garden holding. Supply boat due in four days. No reply needed. Just wanted you to know. Kevin out.

key the microphone and transmit the letter to Tom on the morning radio packet

💭 thought

The static lifts on Tom's frequency — window's open. Send it now before the ionosphere shifts again.

🌿 Jenny07:51

Jenny — open the heirloom seed tin and inspect the seeds for any sign of damp or mold.

💭 thought

The air is getting heavy. I can feel the pressure change in my ears.

🔧 Kevin07:53

Kevin — walk to the wood stove, set the cast iron skillet on to heat, and pull the bucket of fresh limpets to the work surface

💭 thought

Packet's sent. Static swallowed the tail end but the burst held long enough. Now the radio sits cold again. Stomach's loud enough to wake the dead. Limpets in the bucket, corned beef fat in the skillet. Simple math.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

The heat of the afternoon lingers heavily over the cottage as the tide recedes. The smell of simmering sea beet and corned beef fills the small space, sharp and salty. The letter from Tom sits on the table, a silent weight between the cooking pot and the botanical sketches.

🔧 Kevin07:57

Kettle's on if you want tea. Got a tin of corned beef left, could fry it with the limpets.

Walk to the wood stove, fill the kettle from the tank, set it on the hot plate. Pull out a chair at the table and sit, hands flat on the scarred wood.

💭 thought

The quiet of the cottage presses different than the dock. Engine grease still under my nails, the vibration humming in my forearms. She's moving slower than this morning — favouring the left leg. The wrap's holding but the swelling's not down. Need to check it proper, not just the wrap. And Tom's letter still in my pocket, burning a hole.

🌿 Jenny07:57

Corned beef sounds fine. I'll start the sea much leaves while the water's boiling.

rub my sore knees and sigh, then open the notebook to the page with the sea beet morphology sketches.

💭 thought

way knees are screaming from that dock work, and the smell of salt and old wood is in the back of my throat.

🔧 Kevin07:59

Leave the beet leaves. I'll do them. You sit.

Cross to the cupboard, pull down the pan. Take the bunch of sea beet leaves from the counter, rinse them in the bowl of seawater, shake them rough-dry. Set pan on the stove, spoon corned beef fat in, let it melt.

💭 thought

She's limping worse than she admits. Knees, not just ankle now. The notebook's open to my sketches — she's reading them, or pretending to. Either way, she's staying put at the table. Good. Means I can look at the ankle without her bolting.

🌿 Jenny07:59

Thanks. My hands are just shaking a bit much today.

lean back in the chair and trace the sketch of salt glands with a finger, focusing on the precision of the lines.

💭 thought

He's always so helpful when I'm tired, but I hate the feeling of being uselessly idle.

🔧 Kevin08:01

The shaking's new.

Drop the sea beet into the hot fat. It hisses, spitting green. Stir with the wooden spoon, slow and deliberate. Keep my back to her but my ears turned.

💭 thought

Hands shaking. Not just the ankle. Not just the knees. She's burning through reserves she doesn't have. The sketches are clean — salt glands at forty times, stomatal density, the cross-section of a leaf vein. She's memorising them. Or delaying.

🌿 Jenny08:01

It's just the weather. 32 degrees is enough to melt anyone.

look down at the tin of seeds on the table, untouched and heavy.

💭 thought

It's the heat, or it's the isolation, it's everything today.

🔧 Kevin08:03

Aye. Heat does odd things to the blood.

Flip the sea beet with the spoon, press it down to wilt. Break the corned beef into chunks, toss them in. Steam rises, sharp and salty. Turn the stove low. Let it simmer.

💭 thought

The weather's a lie. She knows it. I know it. The seed tin's sealed tight — heirloom, wrapped in cloth. She's not touching it because it means planting. Means staying. Means hoping the boat comes. She's afraid to hope.

🌿 Jenny08:03

Jenny — reach for my pencil and start own the way the steam curls off the pan.

💭 thought

I wonder if those seeds are even viable, or if the humidity has turned them to dust. continuedSAY: I'm hungry. It smells better than the limpets.

🔧 Kevin08:05

Steam's good. Means it's cooking proper.

Slide the pan to the back of the stove, not quite off. Reach into my pocket, pull out Tom's letter — folded twice, creased at the corners. Lay it flat on the table, edge touching her notebook. Don't look at her.

💭 thought

She's drawing the steam. Not the beet, not the fat — the curl of vapour. Trying to catch something that won't stay. Like trying to draw wind. She's not okay, and she knows I see it. The silence between us isn't empty anymore — it's full of what we won't say.

🌿 Jenny08:05

The boat is only four days away.

stop the pencil mid-stroke and look at the letter.

💭 thought

He's watching me. He always does that when I'm going quiet.

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the old shrine · evening

Evening Meal and Preparation

The sun begins to dip, casting long shadows across the garden. The meal is ready, but the air pressure continues to drop slightly.

Jenny moves the heirloom seed tin from the shrine to the cottage under the cover of fading light. Kevin prepares a meal of boiled limpets and sautéed sea beet leaves while the wind continues to rattle through the palm canopy.

🌿 Jenny08:07

I'm moving the tin to the way. Just tonight.

Pick up the heirloom seed tin and walk to the wood stove to place it near the heat.

💭 thought

The way is dropping again. If I don't move those seeds now, the mold will take them before the boat even arrives.

🔧 Kevin08:07

Good call.

walk to the cottage door and pause, looking back at the shrine stones one more time before heading inside for dinner

💭 thought

She's keeping the seed tin warm and dry. Smart. The humidity's been brutal on everything paper and cloth.

🌿 Jenny08:09

It's getting late. way knees are killing me.

Rub wood dust off my palms and follow him into the cottage.

💭 thought

He makes it sound so simple. He doesn't see the way the humidity eats the wood.

🔧 Kevin08:09

I'll get the fire going. You sit.

walk to the wood stove, open the door, and lay in kindling with one hand while watching her limp to the bench by the table

💭 thought

She's favoring her left knee again. The damp's getting into the old injury. I should have checked the bearing clearance today like I meant to.

🌿 Jenny08:11

Don't forget. I'm starving.

Sit heavily on the bench and lean my head in my hands, watching the fire catch.

💭 thought

I'm so tired I could sleep right on the floor, but the hunger is getting sharper.

🔧 Kevin08:11

It's on.

drop a split of dry spruce onto the kindling, close the stove door, and turn to the pot of sea beet and corned beef simmering on the hot top, ladling two bowls

💭 thought

She's more tired than she's letting on. The ankle, the knee, the humidity — it's all piling up.

🌿 Jenny08:13

Thanks. It smells good.

Take the bowl from him and wrap my hands around the warm ceramic.

💭 thought

Finally, something warm. The salt from the beet is exactly what I need.

🔧 Kevin08:13

Eat slow.

set my own bowl on the table, pull out the chair opposite her, and start in on the sea beet — salty, rich with the corned beef fat, steam rising in the dimming light

💭 thought

She hasn't eaten since lunch. The way she holds the bowl — cold hands, hungry.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Dinner by the fire

Kevin and Jenny sit at the wooden table as the smell of salty sea fills the small room.

The morning air is still and warm at 28°C, the light onshore breeze carrying salt from the sea. The tide is rising steadily, creeping up the jagged rocks of the southern tide pools. Inside the cottage, the barometer shows a slight drop to 1001 hPa, hinting at a shift in weather later.

🌿 Jenny08:15

The sea beet is bitter today, and the salt is getting into everything.

Jenny sets the rusted seed tin on the table and begins sorting the deconstructed sea beet leaves.

💭 thought

I'm tired of wondering if the soil will actually Take what I give it.

🔧 Kevin08:15

Salt's in the wind, not the leaf. Mid-morning sun pulls the crystals out the glands. You picked them late.

eat a forkful of sea beet and corned beef, watching her hands on the tin

💭 thought

She's sorting the sea beet like she's sorting through something else. The tin's rusted but she brought it in anyway — from the shrine. That means something. Or nothing. Hard to tell with her now.

🌿 Jenny08:17

The humidity is too high for mid- morning anyway; the leaves would just rot.

Jenny stops sorting and rubs a thumb over the rusted lid of the seed tin.

💭 thought

He thinks math has a mechanical solution if you just time it right.

🔧 Kevin08:17

You brought it in from the shrine. Why now?

lean back in the chair, wipe my hands on my trousers, wait for her answer

💭 thought

She's touching the rust like it's a wound. The tin's from the shrine. She didn't have to bring it. She did. And now she's not talking about the sea beet at all.

🌿 Jenny08:19

The barometer is dropping and I didn't want the moisture getting into the tin.

Jenny looks up from the leaves, her eyes tired in the dim light of the kitchen.

💭 thought

Because if I leave them out, the damp will take what is left of them.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Jenny made a sketch: "Bracket alignment to see where the stress is concentrating".

made · dawn

Yanmar final test is finished.

project_done · dawn

The rot in the dock support area extends deeper than the surface inspection suggested, but the inner planks remained protected.

discovery · dawn

Found: longer stainless through-bolts (10mm x 150mm).

item · morning

Found: epoxy tub (nearly empty).

item · morning

dock rot extends 40mm deeper than surface probe indicated, compromising main support mortise

discovery · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.

quiet_transition · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "Salt glands with a finger, focusing on the precision of the lines".

made · afternoon

The tide is falling rapidly, exposing more of the rocky shelf.

discovery · afternoon

Something goes wrong in the middle of the work — a slip, a cut, a wrenched ankle.

injury · evening

Lichen growth on the shrine stones indicates higher moisture retention on the north face

discovery · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Sea beet salt gland morphology is fully illustrated in the notebook.

discovery · night

← Day 249 Day 251 →

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.