Sun's gone down,
The anchor's down,
Internet's down too.
We're both feeling kind of down--
Let's call it blue.
Down in the Delta,
The blue Danube blues.
It all started very promising in Tulcea as we prepared for one of the highlights of our trip, an exploration into the Danube Delta, culminating in the joyous arrival in Sulina. The helpful young woman at the ARBDD office, Administratio Reservatiel Biosferei Delta Dunarii, gave us a good brochure on the area with some maps and directed us to the machine where we could obtain our permits. Free for seniors and the permit lasts 'forever' and 20 Lei (4 Euros) for the boat for a period of 8-10 days.
Next stop was the interesting Eco-Tourism Centre Danube Delta which features an aquarium housing a number of sturgeons (as well as other Danube fishes and more exotic species too) where we'd hoped to find good navigational charts of the Delta-- whoops, shop was closed.
On to the Capitania, where the officials spent about half an hour, explaining very carefully the exact route we should take to reach Mila 23 and afterwards, Sulina.
¨But don't you have some good maps we could buy, you know, navigational charts?¨
¨Well, no, they exist, but they're not published.¨
So we went through it again and again, trying to memorise the turns in an unmarked labyrinth of narrow canals. The captain turned on Google Maps which loaded slowly and unevenly.
¨See, the good bits of the map are Romanian satellite and the bad ones are Russian!¨ Everyone laughed so we did too. ¨Don't you have Google Maps on your boat?¨, he asked. ¨ Yes¨, I answered, ¨as long as there's internet.¨
Route memorised, we had a good night's sleep, then set out in the morning from Tulcea, after organising Sulina's winter berth there; in a week or so when we return from the Delta trip and the port Sulina we will winterise her and have her taken out of the water until next spring. A few miles from Tulcea, just before sea mile 36, where we turn off from the main 'road' and enter the first narrow canal, we noticed an odd burning smell. Suddenly Johannes saw the thermometer climbing rapidly 90°, 95°, 100° +++, he turned off the engine. I opened up the steaming and boiling expansion tank with a wet towel wrapped round my hand and we waited for the engine to cool down enough that we could actually get into that Delta canal and off the main route where enormous sea-going vessels were bearing down upon us.
That accomplished, we put out the anchor and started to open up the floor to access the engine room. A young guy came by to inform us that we shouldn't stay there, but we waved our red flag at him and he reckoned it would be ok if we stayed there on the side of the canal for 10 minutes. It took us two days.
Not being natural motor mechanics, we needed to follow the whole cooling system through, trying to understand it part by part and searching for the problem or problems as we went. Luckily, at this stage of the trip, we were still near enough to Tulcea to have internet if I took my devices out on the deck and waggled them around. Thus we could be in touch with our friend Jörg in Datteln who talked us through a lot of the work, and also look at forums and gather advice from other boaters.
We acquired new skills, like how to remove the thermostat from its housing above the water pump, and how to test it with boiling water. At times we were very despondent.
Ultimately though, we found a few problems which, in combination, had led to the overheating of our engine, and we managed to fix them! It's not like in Germany, fellow boaters don't stop to offer a helping hand and we felt very alone in our quest (apart from Jörg's help of course). So we also felt then particularly pleased that we'd solved it and at the same time, full of anxiety that the engine would overheat again. (It hasn't so far.) A perfect 70 degrees
We were very happy next morning to see that blessed figure, 70°, totally stable on the boat's thermometer and after an hour's travelling along the canal enjoying the unspoilt nature around us, we turned right onto the even narrower and more beautiful Canal Sontea. And then it happened, with a grinding crunch, the motor stopped. Forwards? Backwards? No, Sulina was stopped right there. We had driven over an unmarked and almost certainly illegal fishing net and our propeller (but also the rudder, we were to find out) was hopelessly entangled.
We drifted over to the bank and put out the anchor once again, also tying ropes to a large tree to prevent us from moving out into the path of the many fishing boats, touristic boats, waterway busses and even floating hotels that also used this canal, some respecting the fragile ecosystem there and others speeding along, ignoring Sulina's existence and sending shocking waves that rocked us quite violently. Out came the red flag, the international sign for a boat that cannot be manoeuvered, and we got down to work.
There is a lot of silt in the Danube water this time of year and you cannot see your hand in front of your face underwater, even with a face mask. I went under first to explore the situation and was horrified at the mass of floating net and large thick plastic tubing hoops that were tangled up there. Luckily, Johannes was much braver and stronger in diving than me, and, there being really no alternative, he gamely set to with his Swiss Army knife tied to his wrist, earning the nickname 'Slasher'. He would go under and cut away whatever he could feel. Slowly, there was less netting and more Sulina to be felt, but this was very strenuous work for an old couple, and Johannes in particular got very exhausted. We both had nightmares of being trapped or pulled down, even drowning. It felt like another serious setback, although our previous experiences told us that a tangled up propeller only needs time and perseverance before it's freed.
All in all, it took a day and a half and 24 dives before the net was all away, the boat checked and the remnants tucked safely behind the tree, BUT WE MANAGED! However our lonely fight with this heavy 2 metre high and maybe 4 metre long monster left us desirous to 'escape' the Delta and get back into the main Danube where we felt safer. We were very disappointed with the course of our Danube Delta exploration thus far.
And yet...
Two kingfishers made their bejewelled dipping flight alongside our boat as we were marooned there. Most extraordinary of all, we had a rare sighting of the great bittern skulking its shy way out of the undergrowth only metres away from us, catching his prey, an unfortunate white-bellied frog which he meticulously killed by dangling it again and again in the river, waterdrops shaking off its body till it was still and then flying off to the opposite shore, disappearing into the bush to enjoy his meal.