For years, I poured everything I had into a boat called **Skellig**.

She was never just a boat.

She was my workshop, my adventure, my future, and the foundation of a dream I had spent decades working towards. Every spare pound I could save, every weekend, every evening, and every hard-earned skill I learned went into transforming her into a capable offshore vessel.

I taught myself boat repair, marine electrical systems, renewable energy installation, and practical marine engineering. Skellig became the platform where all those skills came together.

My dream was never simply to own a boat.

I wanted to explore the waters around Scotland, the North Sea, and beyond while continuing to develop practical marine technologies. I wanted to experiment with renewable energy systems, electrical propulsion solutions, self-sufficient cruising technologies, and affordable safety improvements for small vessels. Ultimately, I hoped to prepare for future offshore challenges, including the Jester Challenge 2028.

After years of work, that dream finally seemed within reach.

I had completed an exhausting passage from the Bristol Channel into the Irish Sea and was on the final stages of bringing Skellig home to Scotland. There were only two legs of the journey remaining.

We departed Ireland bound for Northern Ireland in near-perfect conditions. The wind was favourable, the sea was manageable, and a bright full moon illuminated the coastline. For the first time in a long while, everything felt like it was coming together.

Then the weather changed.

As darkness deepened, thick cloud covered the moon and visibility disappeared. Approaching the coast near Newcastle, Northern Ireland, I began looking for a safe place to anchor and wait for better conditions.

In the darkness, Skellig struck rocks.

To this day I do not know whether the keel was damaged immediately or shortly afterwards. What followed was every sailor's nightmare. Skellig lost steering and was pushed back out into the sea, striking further rocks and banks as I fought to regain control.

Despite everything I tried, the situation continued to deteriorate.

Eventually, I made the call that no sailor ever wants to make.

The hours that followed are still a blur of exhaustion, cold, shock, and adrenaline. My next clear memory is waking up safe thanks to the extraordinary efforts of the rescue services.

I owe my life to the crews who came to my aid that night. Their professionalism, courage, and commitment ensured that I made it home.

Unfortunately, Skellig did not.

Despite years of work, sacrifice, and investment, she was declared a total loss and eventually scrapped.

The final blow came afterwards.

Like many boat owners, I believed I had taken sensible precautions and secured insurance to protect myself from disaster. Only after the loss did I discover that the cover I thought I had was not the cover I actually had. The salvage costs and losses I expected to be insured against were not covered.

In a matter of days, years of savings disappeared.

Losing Skellig felt like losing far more than a boat.

It felt like losing a future I had spent years building.

At a stage in life when many people are slowing down, I was preparing to finally pursue a dream I had carried for decades. Skellig was never meant to be the destination. She was meant to be the beginning.

She was meant to carry me around Scotland, into the North Sea, and eventually towards the challenge of solo offshore sailing. She was meant to be the platform for future engineering projects, renewable energy systems, and continued learning.

Instead, I find myself starting over from scratch.

But despite everything, I haven't lost the dream.

I still have the tools.

I still have the spare parts.

I still have the equipment.

Most importantly, I still have the skills, knowledge, and determination built through years of restoring, repairing, and improving boats.

The lessons from losing Skellig have been hard and expensive, but they have been learned. Any future boat will benefit from improved navigation systems, better charting and route planning, enhanced safety equipment, more advanced depth-sounding technology, and proper insurance cover that leaves no room for misunderstanding.

This fundraiser is not about replacing Skellig.

Nothing can replace the years of work and memories invested in her.

This fundraiser is about giving the dream she carried a second chance.

The funds raised will help me:

* Purchase a replacement project boat, such as an EMD 26, Cutlass 27, or similar vessel

* Carry out essential repairs and restoration work

* Install modern navigation and safety equipment

* Upgrade depth-sounding and hazard detection systems

* Secure comprehensive insurance cover

* Continue developing renewable energy and marine electrical projects

* Resume preparations for future North Sea voyages and long-term offshore ambitions, including the Jester Challenge 2028

I am not asking anyone to fund a holiday.

I am asking for help rebuilding a project, a purpose, and a dream that has consumed years of my life.

If you choose to donate, you will be helping someone who refuses to let one terrible night be the end of a lifelong ambition.

If you cannot donate, sharing this fundraiser would mean just as much.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Thank you to everyone who has offered support, encouragement, and kindness during one of the most difficult periods of my life.

Skellig may be gone.

But the dream she carried is still very much alive.