"How about if you try stomping on the edges and I'll use my heel to kick against the front; if we can just break it free, we're good." I'd managed to unlock the hatch but had been trying to break it loose for about 5- minutes and was beginning to worry about shattering it. The temperature in the fading December light was 7 degrees f. After leaving a few scuff marks on the Lexan and teak it became clear we'd have to remove some of the ice from around the edges before it would move. So with bare hands, and my trusty little Swiss army knife, I scraped away and was finally able to remove enough ice from each side and with a final kick, it began to finally open. "We are in!"

Laurence and I had driven down to Seward for the weekend to continue work on some interior boat remodeling. We'd brought down some pre-cut teak plywood panels and trim pieces that we'd pre-finished at home with many coats of varnish. These would become new cabinetry and a bookshelf - replacing the large space that currently was the port pilot berth. Just getting into the boat (after shoveling snow) was the first major obstacle. But it was cold. After turning on two electric heaters and firing up the Dickinson diesel heater, we could start on the actual tasks at hand. These began with some not-so-slight modifications of a bulkhead which involved using a skillsaw to remove a good chunk of what was currently the coaming for the port pilot berth. Though this wasn't the first time, cutting into factory finished parts of my pride and joy has always been a moment of some terror for me. Basically you better be sure this is what you want to do; and you get one chance to get it right. In the best of scenarios, this requires a steady hand and good light. I'd spent many years with carpentry, but on terra-firma. Doing this kind of work on a boat - in the water - added a whole new set of variables. As I steadied my arms and legs against the settee, I was poised begin the 6-foot long cut. But as I squeezed the trigger of the saw, as if on cue, the north wind gusted hard knocking the boat around wildly. I let go the trigger and reassessed the situation. I reminded myself "I'm doing this work now, so that I can have it done by spring....so it needs to happen." I waited for the gust to pass, sliced into the wood and in 5 minutes, the old coaming was gone. No going back now!

We worked hard together, fitting the newly prefabricated cabinetry panels into place. This took some final planing, filing, sanding, etc. Then after installing some hardwood gussets we set to attaching things into place; Laurence pushing, holding; me drilling, screwing. When I didn't need her help, Laurence tackled the task of removing the Balmar alternator - which we'd rebuild at home and reinstall on our next trip. Finally, by dinnertime, we had the aft section secured and opted to break for a meal, a glass of wine and also to let the boat heat up some more before bedtime.

To our surprise, we found after returning to the boat that the cabin was pretty toasty. We turned down the electric heaters and relied on the trusty Dickinson now. The north wind continued to gust hard throughout the night making the wind-chill well below zero. But the flame flickered and danced -providing a cozy atmosphere and we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

On waking, I went straight to work at the forward section while Laurence emerged to find coffee. One of the panels required a fair bit of additional trimming where it barely covered the interior chainplate support brackets. We worked through lunch and late into the afternoon. We needed to finish the tasks at hand before the 2-hour drive back to Anchorage. The wind continued to howl as I completed the forward cabinet section and began work on the cabinet door hinges and clasps. Laurence worked on the teak trim that would finish the bulkhead patch where we'd removed a door and mounted the heater on an earlier trip. This was somewhat of a comical task as the work area surrounded the cheery-hot Dickinson. As the flames danced, Laurence measured, cut and trimmed small pieces of teak for installation directly below and alongside the stove. Her beautiful red mid-back length hair was not cooperating well and was all too appealing for the fiery hot stove. I periodically caught the distinctive aroma of singed hair as she worked away in the tight space. Her stress level was beginning to rise as I finished up and began to put the tools away. "If we can just finish this trim, we can take off." It was now past dinner time and neither of us had eaten. I went up to the car to get the DeWalt miter saw and help her to finish up the trim. The contrast between the cozy cabin and the dark sky with bright full moon, towering mountains and frigid howling wind was surreal. The DeWalt screamed and the sawdust flew as we literally worked over the top of each other, cutting, pre-drilling, gluing and finish-nailing the trim into place - while trying to avoid the hot stove. It was 9:30pm when the final piece was in place and we hastily cleaned up, buttoned up the boat, hopped in the car and began our long drive back home. Another successful weekend.