As described in a previous post, jobs on this vessel have a clear and unarguable division of labour and simply labelled ‘Blue jobs and Pink Jobs”. In summary ‘Blue Jobs’ often involve a whiff of some description and are instantly allocated to me whilst ‘Pink jobs’ are Nina’s department.
Let us all agree that sometimes, just sometimes, the inside of boats, caravans and motorhomes can develop an unpleasant ‘whiff’. You try and ignore it with scented candles and occasionally look at each questioning personal hygiene, but we all know from which area it comes from and we equally all avoid any form of investigation there.
Over the winter LJ had become victim to a ‘whiff’ which we could no longer ignore. The holding tank (often referred to as ‘The black tank’ – no explanation required) was the prime suspect and required attention. Donning two pairs of rubber gloves and goggles, numerous jubilee clips were loosened in a specific order that allowed pressure, be it air or liquid, to decreased within a controlled environment.
Handling the holding tank with more care than an unexploded WWII bomb and infinitely more care than that which we handled our first grandchild, we removed it for cleaning. There’s not going to be any humorous detail of this process or about its replacement or of all the associated new pipework because as my therapist says, I should ‘move on’.
Having replaced it all we were near ecstatic with our achievements, so much so that after the refitting we sat down for a celebratory bottle of chilled fizz, at which point the ‘`Whiff’ came back. Bugger is a word I’m happy to use.
With fresh impetus we tracked the ‘Whiff’ down to the area where our waste water pipes congregate together with the bilge pipe before exiting the boat. It was obvious that the plastic pipes, which carry water from both heads (bathrooms) and the bilge didn’t have the same crystal clarity that they had when new and so the ‘Whiff’ could be the remnants of fourteen years of sink and shower waste water? To be honest, it was a good guess.
Over the next 2 days, in a wind-swept Plymouth marina, we took apart half the boat. We ripped out and replaced 18 metres of, quite frankly, revolting smelly pipework and celebrated by going to the Cinema. I even treated Nina to dinner on the way back. Later we sat in the saloon, very proud of ourselves until the mood lowered as we looked at each other with the realisation that the ‘Whiff’ was back. Double bugger, with sugar on top.
The only suspect left was the hot water tank. But this is a sealed unit. Surely this could not be the cause? Having listened to Chuck on the ‘University of You Tube’ it was possible that the element within the tank had calcified and so, it would all have to come out. All I needed was a 55mm socket, as if we all have one of them to hand! I cycled miles round Plymouth’s tool shops for one and ended up with the largest adjustable spanner in the world!
Two hours later and after 25 litres of water overflowing into the bilge through a lovely fresh pipe, we became the proud owners of a small mountain of limescale. Not only this, but we discovered that the hot water tank element should have an anode attached to it. So back to the shops for one of those as well.
It’s been a week now and either we’re totally immune to it or has the ‘Whiff’ has been conquered?
