Just A Bit Loopy

February 7, 2024

Let me take you on a wild ride through the riveting world of boat toilets and the odorous adventures of living on the high seas – or, in our case, the high “pees” and “poops.”

So, living on a boat sounds dreamy, right? Well, buckle up, because sometimes it’s more like a comedy of stenches. You ever get a whiff of another boat and think, “Whoa, Nelly, what’s going on in there?” Well, we’ve been on both sides of that fragrant equation, and let me tell you, being the stinky boat is not our favorite role.

Our toilet drama began right after we got our beloved boat in 2022. Picture this: a toilet pump deciding to throw a party, leaking, and spreading a special kind of chaos we like to call “poopocalypse” in the engine room and bilge. Boris, being the MVP that he is, tackled the mess, hired a repair wizard, and boom – $2,000 later, we had toilets that were supposed to behave.

But, life is a stand-up comedian, always ready with a punchline. Our VacuFlush toilet system, the high-tech wizardry using vacuum power to flush away our problems, wore out and started to leak while we were hanging in Key Largo. And boy, did the VacuFlush make themselves known.

Our boat decided to unleash a symphony of foul smells in the galley and salon. Toilet seals playing a cruel game of hide-and-leak, and we’re playing detective in a mystery novel titled “The Case of the Phantom Stench.” The smell is getting bad. I can’t even invite company on board and all doors/windows must remain open. With each flush, the boat is filled with the stench of sewage.

So, while we are trying to chase down a water leak, mentioned in the previous post, Boris makes a horrific discovery.

Turns out, the starboard side vacuum pump had a wild break-up with its seal, redirecting the poop parade from the holding tank, straight into the engine room. Living quarters, located right above the poop parade, now infused with an Eau de Sewage, and we’re planning a Bahamas escape? Talk about bad timing.

So, what’s our action plan?

Step one: a cleanup mission, complete with garbage bags, rubber gloves, and a hose-down to erase any trace of our toilet turmoil (we completed this late in the night so no one else was subjected to the smell).

Step two: Boris, the hero of West Marine, grabs replacement parts, but he’s too big to fit into the cramped space. I don’t want to spend another $2,000 to fix this, besides, I’m not sure we can find someone to do the repair on such short notice. Enter me, the reluctant superhero, ready to save the day.

Cue contortionist skills as I navigate the labyrinth of pipes and hoses, reaching the elusive pump. An hour of unscrewing, and hose wrestling later, victory is mine! While Boris is repairing this pump, I go back down to remove the port side pump.

Pump one has been reinstalled. Before replacing the second pump, we wanted to ensure we correctly repaired it. Time to test it.

Test one: turn on the pump. It seem so to be working well.

Test two: flush a toilet. Bad idea!!!

The pump works like it should, but remember, I removed the pump on the port side as well and hoses from the toilet are loosely hanging. The vacuum created by the repaired pump manages to also create a suction on the other toilet and poop is now flowing out of where the port pump should be and into the engine room. Almost like in slow motion, each time the pump pumps, a geyser of poop sputters out of the hose. I shout for Boris to stop, but it’s too late. Poop is everywhere along the port side of the engine room (luckily none got on me).

We replace the second pump and run a final test. Miraculously, everything works! The boat is odor-free, but I look like I’ve been in a brawl with Saga herself – bruises and battle scars galore from my twists and turns in the bowels of the boat.

And that, my friends, is the thrilling saga of how boat toilets turned our peaceful journey into a sidesplitting, poop-filled comedy of errors. Ah, the glamorous life on the water!