I probably told you a long time ago that Phill is supernaturally mechanically inclined. He’s becoming a bit of a Diesel Whisperer on this trip, and can interpret the mysterious sounds of the Westerbeke.

So the day we left Savannah we were motoring on this narrow, winding creek and are about an hour away from the anchorage where we’d planned to spend the night. Out of the blue Phill says “Did you hear that?”. Hear what, I say. “Nothin’. I just thought I heard the engine skip, or something.” I was completely oblivious to whatever engine sound Phill heard – it just sounded like put-put-put-put-put to me.

Well, not ten minutes later, the engine sputters out and dies! And cannot be re-started! We get the anchor out in a hurry so we don’t get pushed aground in the strong current. Phill inspects a few things, but sees nothing obviously wrong with the engine. The fuel gauge says we have a quarter of a tank, which should be plenty for several more hours of motoring, but it’s also the lowest we’ve ever run the tank. Phill confirms that we’re out of fuel by looking (I think) at the fuel pump (it was the water separator he looked at, not the fuel pump).

We lower the dinghy down from the davits, get the outboard on, and Phill goes to the nearby Isle of Hope Marina.

Phill gets back with the jerrycan of diesel, and we start the motor again. It wasn’t running great – Phill thought that maybe some air got into where it shouldn’t – and we had no hope of getting to the anchorage where we’d planned to stop, so we stayed at the Isle of Hope Marina. We met Seth & Judy there – hopefully I’ll get a chance to tell you about them later – very, very interesting couple.

All in all, we could not have been fooled by the lying fuel gauge and run out of diesel in a better place. We were in a creek where the depth was conducive to anchoring, and there was a marina less than a mile away. Imagine if we ran out while maneuvering in a marina? Or going through one of the swing bridges? So glad we ran out exactly when and where we did.