December 9, 2007. We’re safely tucked into Boot Key Harbor and are floating peacefully on a mooring ball. When we were here last year the harbor was in the transition from being mostly anchored boats, to becoming a huge mooring field. Now there is still a small, though mostly shallow space to anchor. The local liveaboards have that area pretty much sewn up.

Their boats are anchored permanently and will likely never leave. It’s nice that they still have the option of anchoring, but for us the mooring was the way to go. I’m actually more comfortable on our own anchor but I saw how these moorings were installed so I am completely satisfied to hang on a mooring ball. The biggest benefit is that I don’t have to worry about Capt. Johnny McCantAnchor dragging down on us when the wind starts to howl.

My immediate concern since our arrival was getting our propeller shaft coupling back in order. I made myself a list and walked down to the Home Depot. I had several different game plans in mind and which tools were ultimately available to me would pretty much dictate my course of action.

The biggest problem is that I really can’t see the broken surface of the bolts except with a mirror. The whole mirror thing blows my mind, I have no idea how dentists do it. I can barely shave without hurting myself. I’m pretty much reduced to working by feel because of the limited space. I can see the coupling but once my arm’s in there it gets real difficult to see anything at all. Conventional wisdom says to grind a flat on the end of the broken bolt, center punch it, drill it and use an easy-out. Fat chance says I.

Grinding the flat is out because the bolts are broken just below the surface of the plate. I can’t fit my drill into the available space so that would involve purchasing a brand new right angle drill for close to two hundred dollars. Strike two.

While browsing the tool section I came across a set of small channel lock pliers that had an unusual bend to the jaws. I realized that if I did some grinding on the jaws I might be able to grab the broken bolt by both ends and slowly unscrew it until I could get a more conventional grip on it.

Once back on the boat I started to grind one of the jaws until it was small enough to fit down into the bolt hole. This modified jaw, together with the other remaining jaw should be able to grab the broken bolt from both ends.
That’s the theory anyway.

After another liberal shot of PB Blaster I got a good grip on the first bolt, twisted it with every thing I had and it moved! Woo Hoo! To call the progress slow would be the understatement of the year. It literally took dozens of cycles of gripping, twisting and regripping to get the bolt to turn enough to show any progress.

It took at least thirty minutes to expose one thread, just one stinking thread. But it was progress. Then I got a brilliant idea. There was no room for a hack saw, just the blade. I put the backwards blade of the hacksaw on the newly exposed thread as if I were going to cut the single thread away. I pressed hard and as I drew the blade back across the metal, instead of cutting, it gripped the bolt and every so slowly started to unscrew it. Oh hell yeah! A couple of pulls of the blade and enough of the bolt was exposed for me to grab it with my fingers and unscrew it from its hole.

Removing all 4 bolts went pretty much the same way. It took hours, but there was no drilling, blasting or the worshipping of Pagan idols. There was however enough swearing to warrant a new feature on our blog “Swear Word of the Day” or “How Much Can You Swear in a Day?” Its one or the other, I just haven’t f*#king decided yet.


Once the old bolts were removed I installed a set of brand new ones. Everything looks good now and we’re ready to go when its time. My hand however has been reduced to a piece of hamburger. Pulling the shaft forward the other day while we were underway tore some skin from my palm. Gripping and twisting the pliers for a couple of hours finished the job on my palm quite nicely. Raw is an understatement.

Consulting the medical book we bought at Bluewater Books the other day it suggested holding a cold can of beer in the injured hand. After a couple hours of “treatment”, I feel fine. Hell, better than new. I knew we bought the right book.