Let me tell you the story of a special little boat. Or at least, what I know of the story. . She was born in 2017 in England, and the boatbuilders only built one like her. She was a hybrid between several different models and recognizable anywhere by people who knew her. She was christened “Lady Susan.” . Her beginnings are murky, and I don’t know much. I heard something about a failed Atlantic row. ORS shows a 3-week row across the Arctic Sea from Norway to Svalbard. At one point she was fitted with a pedal drive, and sported a large patch on her belly where the pedals used to go. . Like a lost dog, she returned back to the boatyard where she was born. She sat unloved for several years with all the other orphan boats. One day, a woman from Texas saw her and decided to love her. . It took two years for me to pay her off to get her to her new home. She got a new MMSI number, became an American vessel, and was renamed “Evelyn Mae.” . I poured everything I had into this boat - time, money, effort. She was my everything. Then I met my future husband, and we loved the boat together. . This boat became my home, and I lived in her for 9 months total. The first 4 months I rowed from Texas to Florida. Then, suddenly the boat found herself abandoned at a dock for months. She never again saw that man who sometimes came to the skipper on the water. When the skipper returned, she was pulled off the water and dry for a year. . After I sorted my late fiancé’s affairs, this boat saved me. She gave me a purpose: get back on the water. I once again poured everything I had into her. And I got back on the water right where I had left off. . For 5 months I lived in the boat again, and we went on the trip of a lifetime. From Florida, across the Gulf Stream, and down the Bahamas to the Tropic of Cancer. It is a trip that will forever live with me, with this boat there every stroke of the way. . One night, a windstorm came. “Evelyn Mae” drug both anchors and was bashed onto the rocks. I tried to save her. I was in the water for an hour, in the dark, keeping her off the rocks. I did save her, but not soon enough. She was breached. She was sinking. . I got her off the water and on blocks at a marina. There, I grieved her, and made the decision to send her home. Back to her birthplace for repairs or retirement. . I reunited with her back in England and the stars aligned there. I had been working as a skipper since then, and become good friends with one of my first mates. She and her husband used to own Petticrows, the original company who built the hulls for these boats. They hated to see my boat scrapped, as she was such a unique vessel. I felt good in my heart that they would be her new owners, and I said goodbye and good luck to this boat I had loved. . They fixed her up themselves and made her seaworthy again. She sat in the same warehouse she was born in. She waited for her next adventure. She was happy. . There was a fire in the warehouse. No people were harmed, but “Evelyn Mae” was completely destroyed. . I don’t know how to feel. I had parted with my boat, no longer mine. But in my heart the memories of when she was remain. All we had been through together. Incinerated in a fire. . In some ways, it feels appropriate. Maybe she wasn’t meant to travel any further without me. Maybe this makes bonding with my next boat easier. Maybe loving something that is gone is easier than loving something that exists but you can’t have anymore. . Gone like her namesake my Mámá, but never forgotten, Here’s to “Evelyn Mae” You will always be my first ocean rowboat Thank you for everything You did good Rest in peace (fb)

I haven’t been updating on social media lately because I’ve been busy with a gig skippering “Roxy” Rannoch Adventure’s flagship, a 12-man ocean rowboat. I have tons of photos and incredible stories from the last couple of weeks but my job is not yet done so y’all will have to wait for more updates to emerge later. For now here is a photo of a very tired but pleased skipper on the docks in Norway after an action-packed crossing of the North Sea from Scotland. So as I say…onward! (fb)