Let’s get one thing straight right off the bow: I Am Alone is not your average weekend pleasure cruiser for wine spritzers and Instagram stories. This is a 1973 Shark 24, hand-forged by the wind-whipped, no-nonsense shipwrights at C&C Yachts back when boats were boats and men were forged from teak and diesel fumes. She was born in the Niagara Region, raised on Lake Ontario, and now prowls the mighty Ottawa River like Poseidon with a grudge. Under my command since 2009, I Am Alone has done more exploring than a National Geographic expedition on Red Bull. Two journeys to Georgian Bay, including a five-week solo mission circumnavigating Manitoulin Island? Yeah, this boat has stared into the void — and the void reefed the sails out of respect. You don’t buy this boat. You inherit its legacy. Designed by George Hinterhoeller (AKA the Chuck Yeager of fiberglass) to tackle the worst the Great Lakes could throw, this Shark is a triple threat: racer, cruiser, and bona fide storm-slayer. When other boats run for harbor, I Am Alone ties a reef knot, takes a sip of diesel, and laughs in the face of 30-knot winds. Let’s talk armament: 2 Mainsails – One crisp 2016 with twin reef points, and one original 1973 Raudaschl with stories to tell. 1 Working Jib – Age unknown, attitude legendary. 1 Storm Jib (2014) – For those days when Poseidon picks a fight. 5 Genoas – Because real sailors don’t stop at two. Highlights include a sexy NorthSail performance genoa and a ghostly-light breeze whisperer. 1 Spinnaker – Bright, bold, and born for glory. 2 Anchors – A Plough up front to punch through the sea floor, and a Danforth in the stern for when you need to plant your flag and own the bay. Hardware? Top shelf. Vintage winches? Check. Brand new Harken rail and traveler? Damn right. Standing and running rigging? Tighter than a sailor’s wallet in port. All running rigging is cleanly led to the cockpit, so so you can trim, reef, and command this beast single-handedly without ever leaving your battle station Below decks: Custom dining table (for feasting like a sea-wolf), galley table, cold chest, and yes – a non-operational sink, because water is for sailing, not plumbing. Cushions included. Comfortably sleeps you and whatever brave soul you rope into your maritime madness. Safety gear: Life ring, floating line, and a tricolor nav light perched high like a lighthouse on the mast, shining judgment on lesser boats. Plus cabin lights, cockpit light, 12V power outlet, and hookups for marine radio and Simrad TP32 autopilot (TP32 not included – it abandoned ship once it realized it wasn’t worthy). Engine? Oh baby. 9.9 HP Evinrude, but thanks to a dark pact with the gods of outboard fury, it punches like 15 HP. 7 knots top speed. That’s right – you can outpace the storm and still have time to light your pipe. Mahogany rudder – original and glorious. Looks like Hemingway carved it himself with a harpoon. And she comes with a trailer. Not because she needs one, but because sometimes you just want to drag this legend across the continent and show other lakes how it's done. The Price of Glory: $3000, or best offer — but don’t insult her. Show up waving $1500 and I’ll hit you with a boathook so hard you’ll wake up in a canoe. But if you’re a real sailor, a true adventurer — the kind of person who smells like diesel, salt, and freedom — then reach out. We’ll talk price over a dram of rum while Johnny Cash narrates your new destiny.