Because the cabin had to be vacated by 10:00 am, we got going around 8:00 am to help out. Over the course of the week, most of our stuff had made its way over there. Food, condiments, chairs, bowls, a large pot, etc. not to mention the stuff we brought specifically for them such as towels and toys for Jack. So anyway, it was almost like moving but we got it done.
Lewie took us to the Big Chief truck stop for breakfast. Although good, the Dalton Cafe is better. But we had to try it or we wouldn't have known. Oh, now Jack wants pepper on everything including his water and blueberry muffin.
Their flight didn't leave Fargo until 3:00 pm which meant they didn't need to leave until about 11:30 am. Thus we came back to camp and let Jack play on the swing. Just after 11:00, the tears began. Jack cried because he didn't want to leave the swing. Denise cried as she usually does when leaving Jack. Well OK, I guess there weren't that many tears. Anyway, they were off.
With the rest of the day remaining, Denise and Lewie fished at the bridge. I returned my attention to the boat. I've decided that if I can't get this thing running today or find someone to fix it tomorrow, I'm done and ready to come home. I'd rather save a week of vacation for some other time when it will be more enjoyable. For me, fishing from a boat is a big part of why I come to Ten Mile Lake. I've been here 3 weeks and have only been in the boat 4 times and of those 4, only 1 time where everything worked. I would just give up and rent one as in years past but I didn't bring the seat I made. Without it, I can't use the boats as the rear seat is not a bench. One side or the other. Me on one side of any small boat just doesn't work.
But as I continued to experiment, I got it running and then promptly received another jolt while touching the throttle. OK, there's been enough time for things to dry. What's going on here?
I don't move the throttle at all and try starting again. It starts right up. This time instead of using my body as a test lead, I get my circuit tester and look for voltage on the throttle control. Low and behold anytime I ground the throttle handle to the side of the boat, the engine begins to die just as if I'd hit the kill switch. So OK, there must be a short in that control panel. It's an electrical problem and has nothing to do with any remaining water in the fuel lines.
I get out the shop manual I'd brought along. I read. I look at the pictures. I look at the control in the boat. It's mostly Greek to me but I give it my best effort and am able to remove the whole unit from the boat and expose the insides. I started the motor and began to probe around to see if I could discover the short.
Anytime I grounded anything metal in that box to the boat, the engine would die. Unfortunately to really get at the wires, it involves a lot of cutting and basic disassembly of the entire unit. I'm sure it would be a good idea the take everything apart and clean it all up as the thing was full of sand. However that level is way beyond me. Plus it was already after 4:00 pm and the sky was threatening rain. Denise and Lewie were back so I decide to quit.
It never rained and was quite a nice evening. We sat out and talked with some passer bys. Debbie, a waitress at the steakhouse (a part-time second job for her), stopped by. We chatted for an hour and a half and talked about the history of Ten Mile Lake, her full time job in Fargo, what it's like to live in CA, and on and on. It was a nice visit.
Another guy, Fred (who's about 90), who had heard about my boat problems came by specifically to tell me about a guy that fixes his boat. Fred doesn't know his name but calls him the "big guy". He used to work at a shop in Breckenridge but now works out of his garage. Fred has no phone number nor an address but can tell me how to get there. The directions are ...and then you get to a grove of trees and turn... You get the idea. But it was nice of him to try and help.
Finally Lewie fried fish and we had supper. It was already 10:00 pm so everyone went to bed almost immediately.
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