We launched the boat on June 1 this year.

The lake was glassy, a little cool, and the first turn of the key felt almost like cheating—the engine caught right away. I’d expected the usual spring ritual: a little drama, a lot of towels, and at least one last-minute parts run. Not this time.

Over the winter we kept the boat indoors, out of the weather, and the difference showed. No stale air when the cover came off. No chalky film on the gelcoat. Cushions felt like we’d left them yesterday.

What we didn’t have to do:

• Deep clean or chase mildew smells
• Buff oxidation or re-wax a faded surface
• Flush antifreeze or drain anything back down
• Repack after a months-long tarp situation
• Sort out surprise battery issues

Prep was basically: check fluids, top off air, wipe down fingerprints, and go. The longest part was deciding which snacks to bring.

First day back on the water is always a tiny reset—you remember where everything lives, how the throttle feels, what the wake looks like in the morning light. This year it was all familiar without being fussy. We launched, idled out, and the only real thought was how good it felt to be moving again.

A quick note for anyone curious about the off-season routine we followed:

• We stored indoors in a climate-stable space, battery on a maintainer
• Fuel was treated before storage; spring start was uneventful
• Lines and canvas were dry when they went away, and still dry when they came out



That was it. No spring scramble, no hour stolen from a good day. Just a clean boat and an early launch.

I’ll add a photo here once I get a good one from the dock—there’s a spot where the light hits just right in the evening. For now, consider this a small reminder that winter decisions show up in June. This time, they showed up as a quiet engine, a clean cockpit, and more time on the water.