I fell into sailing by pure accident. I was on holiday in Cornwall with my best friend, who had a ‘Learn to Sail’ voucher for her birthday. On the day, it was typical Cornish weather for July: freezing cold; pouring with rain; and blowing a gale. She decided she didn’t want to go, so I went instead. From the moment we left the harbour; despite being scared, I couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. I instantly fell in love with sailing.
It was a feeling of pure freedom that hasn’t left me to this day.
Turning that first experience of sailing into the career I have had since has been anything but a smooth journey. It has been full of potholes, one-way signs and dead ends. Despite everything though, sailing has been my constant. The one thing that has got me through the hardest times. It’s no understatement to say that I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t found sailing.
Growing up, I had a tricky childhood. I grew up in an abusive household and was constantly on the move, never staying in one place for very long. From the age of 15 my home life deteriorated and I left home for my own safety. I ended up homeless, alternating between sofa-surfing and sleeping rough. At the age of 18, knowing that I could now be considered an adult, I left home full-time, and haven’t looked back since.
Sailing has been with me through it all. I first learnt to sail by joining my local sailing club. Unable to afford lessons, I learnt by crewing for other people as well as endlessly harassing people by asking hundreds of questions. When I wasn’t sailing, I read about it or watched videos. To say I was, and still am, obsessed is an understatement. Every Sunday, come rain or shine, I would cycle down to the club with my kit, foil bag and a sail balanced on the handlebars.
I fell in love with competing early on as it constantly drove me to want to be better. It played to my strength of being a perfectionist and fed my love of winning. I started at club level but quickly moved on to competing regionally and nationally. The further I went, the more I loved it.
At the same time, sailing became about far more than just time on the water. It opened a whole new world: giving me friends; chosen family; and a support system that kept me afloat through everything I was dealing with.
What I didn’t know, growing up, was that I was born with a progressive genetic condition called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS). Never having been to a doctor, it wasn’t until I snapped the tendons in my ankles, by just getting off a trampoline when I was 19, did I even suspect anything was wrong. MRI scans revealed that I had old unhealed fractures of both ankles from many years ago and that the tendons had stretched to breaking point. 3 surgeries later and with no improvement I became a full-time wheelchair user.
Growing up there had been signs but, given everything I was dealing with, I just assumed it was normal. It wasn’t until the doctors tried to work out why something as simple as getting off a trampoline had gone so wrong did I get diagnosed.
EDS is a group of rare inherited conditions that affects connective tissue. Connective tissue provides support in skin, tendons, ligaments, blood vessels, internal organs and bones, meaning it affects your whole body. It presents differently in each person but with no cure it is best managed by early intervention to manage symptoms early on and prevent damage. In my case because I didn’t know about it for so long, my condition had progressed significantly, leaving me with a totally dysfunctional digestive and bladder system and lung and heart problems. This was on top of being a full-time wheelchair user due to the damage to my ankles and frequent dislocations of any or all my joints at one time or another. In my case the combination of symptoms means I likely live on a shorter timeline than most.
As my condition has progressed, the one thing I made sure of was that I never stopped sailing. I initially modified how I sailed a variety of unadapted dinghies before transitioning full time, in 2019, to sailing adapted boats. I have since gone on to compete for GBR, winning a silver medal in 2023 and a bronze medal in 2024 in the RS Venture Connect class.
Ever since being little kid I have been obsessed with the sea. I had dreams of sailing around the world but, seeming too far out of reach, I put this on hold. As I have found myself increasingly restricted on land, being at sea has become increasingly important to me.
Wanting to stretch my legs further than just dinghy racing, I began looking into yachting. I started by crewing on other people’s boats but struggled due to not being able to adapt them for myself. This meant I was always restricted in some way by what I was able to do.
In December 2023 my condition had progressed to a point where my quality of life was being severely affected by continual hospital stays for treatment. The decision was made between me and my team that I would move onto palliative care and invasive treatments that were prolonging life would be withdrawn. I was given around 6 months to live but nobody really knew how long my body would last. For those months all I could do was live as much as I could. It was towards the end of those 6 months, as I was approaching the end of my predicted timeline, did I suddenly find myself with a tricky question; ‘how do you live when you don’t know how long you have left to live’.
I’m still not sure I have an answer to this question, but, for me, the answer became: to plan as if I have forever; but to live as if I only have today. In the face of my life limiting condition, I decided that instead of waiting to die, I would keep living until I was physically unable to. I would chase the dream that had seemed too impossible to even say – sailing around the world!
As I made that decision, the WorldStar race was announced. This would be a single or double-handed non-stop and unassisted race around the world. It seemed perfect. The only catch was the rules meant I needed a boat bigger than 35ft which, at the time, was out of reach both logistically and financially.
Scaling back my plans, I tried to find a more realistic target. I set my sights on sailing around the UK and Ireland. This could be done in a much smaller boat, making it much more achievable in a shorter timeframe. So, I took the jump and purchased an Albin Vega, a 27ft offshore racer-cruiser, who I renamed Fear. My first challenge had begun.
Fear was named after one of my favourite quotes:
‘FEAR has two meanings: you can Forget Everything And Run or Face Everything And Rise’.
I purchased Fear at a time when I didn’t see much hope or future. She gave me something to work towards and aim for and, I strongly believe, she is the reason I am still here today, having greatly exceeded my prognosis. That ethos was the start from which project FEAR - what I saw as my FINAL project – was born.
Today
I completed the challenge on the 30th June 2025, setting the record as the first female and first wheelchair user to complete a solo, non-stop and unassisted circumnavigation of the UK and Ireland.
Only 3hrs after being back on dry land, despite being exhausted and overwhelmed by , the welcome I received, I was already scheming what would come next.
A meeting exactly three weeks from the day of my return changed everything.
WorldStar invited me to enter and pledged to help me find a boat.
My next challenge was set.
I would compete in the WorldStar race and, in doing so, become the first disabled female to complete a solo, non-stop and unassisted circumnavigation of the world.
As of right now, there is still an awful lot to figure out and there is more uncertainty than certainty, but Project Fear, when it started, was always a long shot.
So, embracing the ethos that drove my first challenge, I will give it everything I’ve got.
My condition is still life limiting and the truth is I don’t know if this next challenge is possible, but I know it’s impossible if I don’t try. So, Project Fear now has a stage 2.
Hopefully I can continue to show that with a bit of imagination and a lot of hard work anything is ‘maybe’ possible/amazing things can be achieved.