I like to think of myself as the type of captain who is never worried when I’m offshore alone because I have prepared for anything.

Like most captains, I plan for emergencies and have procedures for such things as:

• Heavy seas
• Striking a partially submerged objects
• Beneath the waterline hose flooding event
• Running aground
• Running out of IPA or margaritas, etc.

I know many stories of fellow boaters who found themselves in bad situations. However, I was not ready for what happened on my return trip to Rhode Island.

I was piloting from the flybridge on a moonless night trying to spot crossing boat traffic and the endless lobster pots that dot the coast. I smelled smoke. Smoke is a common occurrence when driving from the flybridge at night along the coast. There are many campgrounds along the shore and campfire smoke is a common smell wafting out over the water.

However on this particularly dark moonless-night, the invisible smoke suddenly revealed itself as it passed by the light of my green navigation light. I thought hmmm. That smoke seems pretty thick for being this far off the coast. I thought… is the smoke coming from my boat? I decided to get up from the captains chair on the flybridge and make my way down and into the pilothouse. Upon opening the pilothouse door, thick black smoke poured out.

SHIT

I rushed inside thinking I needed to find the source of the smoke and was quickly overcome and unable to breathe. I found my way back outside the pilothouse, unable to take a breath. The black smoke had caused my lungs and chest to contract so tightly that I simply could not take another breath. It took a good 30 seconds before I could get a small amount of air back into my lungs. After getting a breath, I hastily opened both pilothouse doors in an attempt to clear the smoke and regain entry. I saw orange flames shooting through the black smoke. The Small Craft Advisory had ended a few hours ago but allowing the still strong winds to enter the boat simply gave the fire the oxygen it craved.

In this moment… I understood I had little chance of getting to my satellite emergency beacon that was mounted inside the boat or even the many fire extinguishers I had mounted throughout the boat. I needed to get my dinghy launched and get off Simple Life. Simple Life has no side walkways and when I order her I asked that the ladder that goes from the fly deck to the lower cockpit be removed. My path to the dinghy was through the burning pilothouse and down through the smokey saloon to the swim platform. I had my dinghy stowed on the swim platform. After seeing the flames rolling through the smoke I thought… If I go back in there… I may not make it back out. I retreated back to the relative safety of the flybridge as I watched flames pour out of both pilothouse doors.

I stood there trapped on the flybridge with the dark water around the boat illuminated by the burning boat. As the flames leapt skyward, I thought…

“Well Captain, if you have a plan you better put it in motion in the next few seconds!”

I quickly decided that the best option was to climb off the stern of the boat onto the swim platform. Now standing on the swim platform, I needed to get the dingy pushed into the water. Serendipitously, a fellow boater friend of mine had graciously given me his almost new pair of dinghy ramps to store my dinghy on my swim platform. I had been wanting to relocate my dinghy as it lowered my center of gravity making the boat more stable on my offshore trips. That fall another friend helped me install the removable dinghy ramp arms. I was ecstatic that the dinghy was not on the flybridge as I’m not sure the electric crane would have been operational or that I would have even had the time to lower the dinghy. It was a windy night and you could hear the roaring sound of the fire quickly ripping through the boat.

I was frantically attempting to untie the dinghy which I had foolishly tied with a ridiculous number of lines each with multiple knots. In the dark the process of trying to untie all these knots had me fearful that I might have to jump in the water instead. As I freed the last line I gave the dinghy a tremendous push and watched it splash into the water. It was then I realized I was not holding the painter line attached to the bow. I quickly reached down and snatched up the painter line before the dinghy could float away. I jumped in and by the time I looked back at Simple Life the pilothouse doors had fallen off, the pilothouse roof had collapsed and the windows were exploding with loud gunshot-like sounds as the flames leapt high into the night sky.

I called the USCG and within minutes they came along side me. One of the coastguardsman asked me “do you need to go the hospital?” I replied, “no I’m OK”. He then asked, “smoke inhalation?” to which I said.. “well as a matter of fact, yes… but I’m fine”. Later that night, I would come to realize the coastguardsmen never thought to tell me my face was covered in black soot. That night while aboard the USCG boat, I watched as Simple Life burn to the waterline and slip beneath the waves. I thank the USCG for their fast response and professionalism. I now realize that if you can’t extinguish an onboard fire, you better have a plan to get off the boat quickly.

Simple Life Reborn

Today I have a new Simple Life. She’s a 57′ Bruce Roberts Troller Yacht. Simply a cross between a high horsepower motor yacht and a long-range trawler.

I had the original Simple life built in 2012 and it took 8 years of modifying her till I had her just the way I wanted her. Today I am starting all over again and there is lots to do! The boat was a bit of a project boat but I enjoy spending all my time and money restoring and upgrading a boat that has lots of potential.

Loosing Simple Life and everything aboard her was difficult. I’m thankful for my family and friends who supported and helped me during this time. The Simple Life philosophy reminds me that life is about the pursuit of happiness through people and experiences, not things.