There are no two-ways about it, the boat simply must be hauled-out and the sooner the better. We can retrace our steps and find a boatyard near the capitol of the DR, but our window for crossing the irritable Mona Passage appears to be forming just now and the prospect of being in a locale with USPS shipping rates, West Marine stores, and a far more pervasive understanding of English is just too alluring not to attempt. So I cradle the broken skeg with a piece of  rope held up via both stern cleats and we shove off early one morning for the 100-mile crossing to Puerto Rico.

Okay, I’m gonna give you the quick version…the journey takes 48-hours and involves lots of tacking and engine running, but otherwise goes well. We clear-in at the southern town of Ponce and begin our hunt for a boatyard which proves tedious, difficult, and unpromising. During this time our friends aboard Sweet Chariot and Hecla have altered their cruising plans and both arrive in Ponce as well and throw us some much needed moral support (and just the right amount of epoxy resin that will prove invaluable, thanks again Toby!). We finally hear back from the second of only two yards that allow owners to do their own work, and the ONLY yard that permits living-aboard during such work, and they have an opening for us on Monday (this news on a Friday), YAY!

We are removed from the water just after lunch on Monday afternoon and are back floating before 9 am that Friday, thereby only having to pay for three days on-the-hard! A local boat-whiz working in the same yard agrees to sell me the necessary resin, fiberglass, plywood, and paint and even helps me get the job done without asking for a cent. While waiting for resin to kick or paint to dry I install two new dorade vents in the bathroom, build a fairing-wedge for our new traveler track, and re-straighten the bent rudder shaft with the use of 12-ton bottle jack. CJ meanwhile stays busy aboard with the sewing machine and updates our bimini to provide even more shade. All the staff are friendly and helpful and the location is perfect. By far it is the best possible boatyard experience one can hope for, and afterwards we are offered a slip at the adjacent marina for a price we can’t refuse.

At this point it’s time to get Clare to the airport, but first a quick stop at the only tropical National Park in the US Parks Department–El Yunque. Can’t remember the last time I hiked a mountain trail or swam in fresh water–it’s glorious. Then it’s on to the capitol city for a stroll through the almost European-looking streets, and a nice meal out. San Juan really was an unexpected charm.

I drop her off at the airport early the next morning where she will catch a flight to Georgia and spend 24-hours stuck in the Atlanta airport before finally making it to her destination of Savannah, only 200 miles away. At any rate, she periodically works gigs for our friends who own an event management company…although using the word”work” may be a bit generous. Apparently these events are a big deal, and everyone is super busy and running around all over the place and has to be perfectly on task. And yet, all I hear about and see (yes, there is supporting photographic evidence) are a bunch of friends cuddled-up in massive piles on hotel beds with liquor bottles strewn about, or cheers-ing champagne glasses in sunny swimming pools with tables in the background full of catered cuisine. No wonder I’ve never seen her so excited about “working” before. If I’m lucky, she’ll return with a handful of cash to help offset our boat expenses…

Speaking of which–I return to the boat and go to fire up the engine for some routine maintenance…Ooooo, that doesn’t sounds good. One more time…KA-CHUNK…ouch, that sounds really bad. Better take the starter off, oh yeah, that explains it–a piece of the starter motor is broken off and is now rattling around inside the transmission. Dammit. Now I gotta get into the engine compartment. Wait a second, there isn’t even enough room down here to remove the transmission…does this mean what I think it means? You gotta be kidding me!

So instead of enjoying a handful of days to myself, I instead have to build a support frame, rig the boom for hoisting, disconnect everything from the engine, and pull it up out of the boat and into the cockpit. And yes, all of this by myself. Sonofabitch. Well, might as well take this opportunity to clean her out real well and change some worn gaskets. Meanwhile, living the bachelor life…eating out of cans, tools everywhere, loud rock music.

Phew, okay, finally ready to go back in. But putting things back together is always more difficult than pulling them apart. Luckily, there’s help from the crew of just-arrived Tipitina  and we get the engine back on her mounts. I hustle back to San Juan with just enough time to find a new spare starter and retrieve my hard-working wife from the airport who shows me photos of her long-weekend…not fair.

Here’s to getting shit done.