In the summer of 2019 I purchased my first sailing cruiser, Bridey, a 1981 Westerly Discus with a 36hp Volvo Penta MD17D. I picked her up at Preston Marina where she was berthed, my first adventure, motoring round the 17ha Preston Dock basin. The engine sounded sweet and was clean and green, having been recently painted. But as I was soon to find out, you can’t judge a block by its colour!
After a few minutes motoring I put up the sails, tentatively at first, unfurling the jib, then raising the main, leaving the engine running in case I needed to do an emergency stop at the far end of the dock basin! No problems so far. There was one peculiarity I did notice, though: on heaving to and putting the engine in neutral, the boat started to go astern, apparently into the prevailing wind. But I simply put this down to the erratic wind changes in the steeply-walled basin with its tall surrounding buildings, and thought no more of it.
Some weeks later my son and I set off for Piel Island on our first trip. This involved a fifteen mile motor up the River Ribble then another twenty miles or so along the Lancashire coast, past Blackpool and Fleetwood, across Morecambe Bay and the Lune Deeps, then mooring on one of the ‘free-to-use” buoys on the eastern side of the island, adjacent to the channel that leads to Barrow-in-Furness. Motoring down the Ribble was event free. The weather was calm and dry with a north-westerly F2-3. Once we got to the sea I put up the sails. At which point the wind changed to a northerly F1. We were barely managing 1kt so had no option but to motor if we were to arrive at Piel Island before dark.
Several hours later with still no wind, we reached Piel Channel, by which time it was getting get dark. Although there were some adverse tidal streams on route, they couldn’t account for the average 3.5kts we made during that part of the journey, despite the engine running flat out. Nor could we blame the almost head- on wind.
With the light quickly fading, I noticed a faint glow on one of the warning lights on the engine control panel. No alarm, just a faint glow. My heart sank. We still had about four miles to go before we reached the moor- ing. As it was an orange light, I assumed (quite reasonably, I thought) that it was the oil light which must have meant low oil pressure, right? But there was no overheating, no smoke from the exhaust, nothing to indicate that that was the problem.
The pressing question was what to do. The weather was still calm and dry so maybe stopping and anchoring alongside the channel was the best option, then deal with the warning light issue in the morning. But what about the wind farm and oil field traffic along the busy channel? And, what about the shoaling waters of Morecambe Bay just outside the channel where we may well have grounded overnight? I decided to press on.
Eventually we reaching the mooring, found a vacant buoy, and despite having to do this in pitch darkness against a very strong tidal stream, managed to moor up. The next morning, we set off back to Preston. The engine started fine with no smoke and, bizarrely, no warning light. But after an hour or so of motoring due again due to a lack wind, back on it came. So, I decided that we shouldn’t risk trying to reach Preston and should put in at the relatively nearby Fleetwood instead.
A few days later a local engineer came to do an oil pressure test, but the engine wouldn’t start. I assumed the battery was dead so tried connecting a jump starter, but nothing, apart from a slight click. I charged the batteries overnight and the next day tried again. Still nothing. The starter motor was clearly dead. The next job was to replace the starter motor with a new one. This time the engine started fine. Hav- ing brought my own oil pressure tester, I fitted the gauge to the crank case and cranked the engine. Oil pressure was fine, in fact, pretty good for such an old engine. But that made no sense. What was going on here?
It was at this point that I realised what a fool I had been – it was not the oil light at all – it was the alternator charging light! How stupid of me to assume that the orange light used by Volvo was the charging light and that the oil light was, er, also orange (yes, I know – I should’ve read the ‘effin’ manual).
It turned out that there was a leak in the freshwater pump and that water had been dripping onto the starter motor as well as splashing onto the flywheel, running along the drive belt and dribbling into the alternator. A double whammy! In the absence of a new water pump being readily available, I had it refurbished by an engineering firm in Warrington and then fitted a new alternator.
Problem solved… or so I thought. To be sure everything was fine before I set off back to Preston, I did a full service on the engine – new oil, new oil and diesel filters, cleaned the air filters, new drive-belt – then had a quick run up the River Wyre to see how she was running. There was no smoke. The alternator was charging. No warning light. No alarm. The freshwater wasn’t dripping any more. Everything seemed fine. But she was still only managing 3.5-4 kts flat out. There was no smoke but a bit of steam at full whack so when I got back.
I checked the filter on the coolant sea cock, put some cleaner tablets in the raw water system and ran it through to hopefully clean it out.
It was then that I noticed a rusty drip down the starboard side of the engine. Leaning over the block and placing my hand under the exhaust elbow I found it was wet. Using a mirror I noticed a long, rusty brown line running lengthwise along the underside of the elbow. This didn’t look good so I removed the elbow in a vain hope that I might be able to repair it. To my horror, I found a 10cm long tongue-shaped crack and, as I tried to clean it up, a huge chuck of metal fell clean off leaving a huge gaping hole [photo].
Skip forward three months to when the new elbow finally arrived from Sweden, I fitted it and ran the engine. Made sure she was warm and at full operating tem- perature, then ran her in gear (whilst tied up) to see how she behaved under full load. At full throttle, out of gear, the engine managed over 3,000rpm, which is normal according to the workshop manual. However, in gear, she could barely make 2,000 rpm.
There was no black or blue smoke (apart from at first start up) but under full load there was a bit of white smoke and a slight smell of what can best be described as ‘stale barbecue’ when I cupped my hand over the exhaust outlet. Another thing I noticed was that when changing from forward to reverse, even after dwelling in neutral, there was a really loud metallic clunk. This clunk had always been there but never so loud. I soon came to realise I had no neutral, or at least, no neutral after the engine had first been put into gear. Remember I mentioned going backwards when hove to in the dock basin? Clearly there was still something not right. Some things not right, in fact. Needless to say, the next job was to check the gearbox. I couldn’t face removing and stripping it down so I removed the selector mechanism to start with and discovered it to be worn, but more alarmingly, one of the mechanism’s attachment nuts was loose and ready to fall off. Replacement of the shim with a thinner one, cleaning up of the mechanism, replacement of oil seals, a change of oil type from gearbox oil to standard engine oil (as recommended by Volvo) and a general clean-up was all it needed. I now had a neutral and no more clunk – funny how you don’t realise how bad something is till you’ve fixed it.
But again, that didn’t explain the lack of power. Perhaps the prop was fouled? She hadn’t been lifted or antifouled for nearly two years now so I booked a lift out for the next available slot. On the day, I turned up early, got everything prepared to move the boat to the lifting berth and…that’s right, the engine wouldn’t start!
It was completely dead. Not even a click, this time. I checked the batteries which were fine. When the key was turned, the motor was taking charge from the batteries, according to the battery gauge. Was the engine seized? No, it turned by hand. Surely the starter motor hadn’t failed again, had it? How long are these things meant to last?
So I tried the old mechanics’ tricks of knocking it with a small hammer, then hot wiring it in case it was a bad connection to the switch. But still nothing. The connections were difficult to access with the motor in situ; the only option left was to remove it, take it home and test it on the bench.
In the meantime, the boat had to be towed by the marina, following an- other wait of several weeks while the faulty engine on the marina’s launch was repaired, to enable her to be lifted onto the hard. Fouling wasn’t too bad, there was nothing wrapped around the prop and no damage. Obviously not the reason for the lack of power.
Back to the starter motor, it turned out that the solenoid plunger had seized, but surprisingly was also quite rusty, despite being less than twelve months old. Why was the solenoid rusty? It wasn’t beneath the exhaust elbow. The freshwater pump was no longer dripping. Further investigation revealed yet another leak, this time from the heat exchanger; hitherto un- noticed, seawater had been dripping directly onto the starter motor below!
By this time, I was starting to lose any last vestiges of faith I had in this engine. OK, these things could be remedied, annoying as they were, but there was still no explanation for the lack of power. The only test I hadn’t tried that might answer the question was a compression test. Thus far, I’d tried to avoid having to do this due to the faff of having to dismantle the fuel system and remove various coolant pipes and components to make enough space to get the injec- tors out, there being no glow plugs on this engine. But what else could I do?
Obviously, I needed a starter motor to do a compression test and it so happened I had a spare one that came with the boat (which I found in the meantime, hidden at the bottom of a locker). Having refitted the spare starter motor, removed the injectors (which all looked fine) and attached a remote starter switch, I turned over the engine and carried out a compression test on each of the three cylinders in turn. They were all reading low, each one about 85psi (30%) too low, to be exact.
Finally, after more than two years of “trial and error” and waiting for deliveries etc. (not to mention Covid lockdowns), I concluded that the 37 year old engine was worn out; simple as that! Most likely the valves or piston rings (or both), but either way, a major refurb -and that is not viable for a 35 year-old engine.
So now, I am now the proud owner of a Beta 35!