As a direct descendant of 19th-century shipping magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt, Alix Tower Thorne has a natural affinity for seagoing vessels. She owns a 130-foot schooner, which she runs as a nonprofit sailing school for high schoolers. And for the past 14 months, she has served as a seaman aboard the HMS Rose, a 179-foot replica of an 18th-century square-rigged ship. Her tasks: to stand watch, paint trim, haul ropes, muck toilets, set and furl sails. "I always loved reading the English seafaring adventure novels," says Thorne, 48. "But I never thought I'd actually get to live one."
Indeed, the life of a seaman was far from Thorne's mind when she graduated with a degree in English in 1971. She married and moved to Corpus Christi, Texas, where she earned a graduate degree in criminology, raised two sons and spent weekends racing a 30-foot yacht. Then, in 1985, she became involved in raising funds to sail the restored 19th-century frigate Elissa from Texas to New York for the Statue of Liberty centennial in 1986.
"We couldn't pay people, so I went along on that trip as a volunteer," Thorne says. "We were gone five months, and it changed my life and broke up my marriage. My ex-husband, who is a very good friend now, likes to say, 'How many people can say their wife ran off to be a
foretopman?' "
Now remarried, Thorne earned her able-bodied seaman certificate last year--she also has a mate's license and a master's certificate for 400-ton vessels--and hired on as a hand for the 1996 European voyage of the Rose, the world's largest wooden sailing ship with a year-round training program. "She does everything a 21-year-old, 250-pound seaman does but she has the wisdom of age to call for backup when she needs it," says Rose captain Richard Bailey.
Life aboard a tall ship, even in modern times, is largely about maintenance, and carrying out that kind of work in rough seas is not easy. "It can make you feel sick, and you don't get much sleep," Thorne says. "There are times when I think I could be in my apartment in New York City or in my house in Maine. I have a whole other lifestyle that's pretty luxurious, I don't have to live in this little pit cleaning someone else's toilet." Thorne may not relish cleaning toilets, but she stays for the adventure. "When you come through a particularly bad stretch of weather, there's a sense of euphoria--you're saying, 'that was so bad, it was great!' It's hard to quit."
Kelli Anderson, '84
