We weren't completely ready but we left anyway. Projects on an old boat are never finished.   December was a month of 100-mile roundtrips to Indiantown where Pura Vida had spent all of 2005 out of the water on those awkward, uncomfortable stands, waiting for our return. Because of the sun’s merciless UV rays, rain, yet another hurricane in 2005, the dusty environment of a boatyard and a year of neglect, the poor old thing was a mess. The first time back was overwhelming; I could barely step inside for all the junk and clutter.

I could have started cleaning anywhere so I just picked a spot and dug in while Tom did the grunt work. His first job was to fix a nick in the bow, Pura Vida's only injury during Hurricane Frances. It happened as a result of a runaway boat in the marina, still attached to a piece of a floating dock, that got slammed against the seawall near H dock. So now he had to chip and grind out the damaged gel coat, and then fill in and paint. It was time for a bottom job too. Sanding the hull in preparation for new bottom paint is one of the dirtiest jobs, as the dust from the old paint flies and gets in every crack and crevice, like your nose, eyes and ears. If that wasn’t enough, he installed a new cutlass bearing, resealed the exhaust hose through-hull flange, and created a new hatch in the aft deck. The addition of that hatch was good for extra storage space but that was just an added bonus. The real reason for cutting a hole in the deck was to access that leaky exhaust hose flange and I had a small part in that challenge. It was all due to physical size.

I am by no means petite, but you don’t have to be a genius to figure out that a six-foot, two-inch person who weighs 230 pounds is not likely to fit in a 14" x 24" hole unless he’s Gumby. The opening was less than 24 inches deep with extremely limited space below. That’s why I was elected. I folded myself like a jack knife and wormed my way in, positioned my body, face-down, resting on the hull stringers, and then maneuvered my left hand forward (the right being immovable) to hold a wrench on each of the eight nuts so that Tom could retrieve the bolts from the outside. When that part of the job was finished, hose clamps had to be repositioned, held in place, and tightened. Inside the dungeon, cobwebs hung in the dim light to my side so I kept my sight straight ahead for fear of what might be down there with me. Just another joy of owning a boat!

We were worn out after weeks of challenges and eager to get Pura Vida in the water and back to Fort Pierce. But first, the engine needed immediate TLC after sitting idle for 15 months. Tom cleaned fuel filter housings, put new filters in place, bled the system, crossed his fingers and then cranked the engine a few times. The old Perkins roared to life and we were on our way. Life was good! We dawdled and anchored overnight to get back in the groove, like, for instance, turning on the stove. I turned the knob and held a lighter to the burner but it wouldn’t light. Then it came to me - I’d forgotten all about flipping the propane switch to "on" in order to get gas.