At the end of August, we received the title that noted for all the world this boat was ours! And now that she was ours, the Pawcatuck marina wanted her removed post haste. That's when the real fun began!

The amount of scheduling and preparation required for shipping our ship down to Florida was truly challenging. Aside from lining up a shipper, and scheduling marinas and travel liftsMotorized vehicle specially designed for lifting and lowering a boat to move it between land and water. and cranes on both ends, we had to remove a great deal of deck gear because of bridge height limitations on the highway. Not just the mast, but the stanchionsVertical posts along the edges of the boat through which the lifelines are strung., boom gallowsA fixed arch that sits below the boom and is used to hold the horizontal spar when not employed., mast pulpitsFixed rails on each side of the mast that provide amidships support., bow railFixed railing around the bow, or front of the boat., even the doradesA cowl or fixed wind scoop found on the deck and designed to funnel air below. had to be removed.

Being that this was completely unfamiliar territory to us and that we were far away from it, there was a lot of fretting over how any of these parts – seemingly so firmly affixed – might be easily removed. And of course our tight schedule left very little time for figuring it all out. I had recently started a new job and couldn't be spared, so Don packed up his perturbation and flew on up to Pawcatuck.

I was able to send reinforcements though. Mom and dad were anxious to see our new home, so they loaded their van with every tool dad owned, as well as the remaining items we wanted from our house, and along with our cat Halley drove over to meet up with Don. Dad was an engineer and I hoped he'd be a capable hand in helping Don figure everything out.

As if there wasn't already enough tension over this undertaking (suspenseful theme song), only two days were allotted for them to complete their mission! I was a nervous wreck waiting to hear it was IMPOSSIBLE!

While Don distressed over the disassembly, I made inquiries about obtaining boat insurance. We'd sunk a lot into her purchase and with everything else on our mind, this was some peace we could purchase.

That's when I learned about 'The Box.' My conversations with the many agents that I phoned went something like this:

Me (proudly): "I would like to insure my Hans Christian 33T. We've just purchased her in Connecticut, and will be having her trucked down to Florida. Can you provide me with a quote please?"

Agent (aghast): "Florida did you say? I'm sorry, but you're in the Box."

Me (confused): "Excuse me, I don't understand what you mean by In the Box."

Agent (condescendingly): "When there is a named storm, we suspend binding new coverage for areas that fall within an approximately 16,000 square mile box. You're in Hurricane Katrina's Box."

Me (still confused): "But the BOAT is in Connecticut. It's not here in Florida yet. It's a thousand miles away from the storm!"

Agent (idiotically): "Sorry, but YOU are in the box."

Me (perturbed): "But the BOAT is in Connecticut!"

I explained that it would take nearly a week for the boat to arrive, plenty of time for the storm to dissipate. Furthermore, I assured them that if the hurricane made landfall on Anna Maria Island, the delivery would most certainly be postponed.

It didn't matter. Though it was I who was caught in their imaginary box, the insurance agents were quintessential mimes because I couldn't get any of them to talk to me! We were going to have to risk it until I could get out of The Box!

And then our illusive peace of mind fell into even more pieces when our contracted trucker backed out at the last moment. Over the course of the previous three weeks, I'd made several inquiries, received quotes, followed up on references, and obtained proof of coverage. We signed an agreement with our trucker of choice, but when I called him to confirm our scheduled pickup date, he claimed to be concerned that his bed couldn't handle the load.

It was a ridiculously lame excuse in that, though she's a heavy ship, she's rather diminutive compared to the overall dimensions with which these guys usually deal. The more likely excuse was that, by now, Hurricane Katrina had devastated the Louisiana coast, along with all the petroleum refineries that laid in the storm's path. The cost of fuel skyrocketed all over the country, and he didn't want to honor the price for which we'd contracted.

I was left scrambling to find another transporter, and since these last minute changes precluded me from researching credentials, my confidence about their credibility was but a wisp of hope. Though a nice bonus to the overall ordeal, I felt it further worrisome that the uncorroborated trucker was a thousand dollars less than all the other quotes we'd received. Finger's crossed!

On the evening of Dismantle Day 1, Don called from Connecticut. They had to work in the rain all day – OOOFF! But, he exclaimed with surprise, they finished the job in about 6 hours! Everyone was rather stunned at how straightforward it was to take apart this intricately crafted cruiser. The dorades presented the most mysterious means for removal, until mom suggested they just try and unscrew the entire cowl. She was right, they twisted right off!

And dad was full of high praise for our purchase.

"Do you know what you have?" his amazement oozed through the cell. "All the guys in the yard kept commenting on what a well built boat it is. A real blue water cruiser they said. One guy kept saying he wished he'd gotten to it first!"

Seems the live-aboard we met the night before our survey was still hovering around our vessel. But it made me smile. No matter the age, it always makes a girl feel good to find out that she can impress her father.

Though it hadn't exactly been smooth sailing, our ship was ready for shipment. Don succeeded beautifully in his mission, and it always makes a woman feel good to find out that her man can do the impossible.