Vendée Globe

It lasts for one fleeting instant, but it is something you look forward to.  The seconds tick by.  And then it happens.  South replaces north on the GPS screen.  You have crossed the Equator. You are in the other hemisphere.  You have gone from autumn to spring.  The pole star is the Southern Cross and the wind direction around lows and highs is reversed.

 

Out on the water, you need neither a visa nor a passport to cross the border, but in your mind, you have gone over the frontier. Apart from the silly idea of sailing upside down, you can now count the degrees south down to the forties.
The Roaring is still some way off, but you are already thinking about it. A glance at the weather charts to see whether there will be a short cut to join the train moving around the icy continent.

The long route south to reach this fascinating, treacherous universe is punctuated with various traps. Overcoming the Bay of Biscay, getting out of the Doldrums, skirting by the St. Helena high...
As in the travels of Ulysses or Phileas Fogg, each skipper has to accomplish a series tasks to obtain his grail: launching themselves into orbit around Antarctica on the high-speed surfs, soaring like Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

But looking beyond the speed and sensations that come with it, there are also personal limits that you discover and need to push back.  No easy matter.  The diagonal trip down the Atlantic with its various obstacles is the initiation phase, a chance to grow up to face what lies ahead.

In the mind, during this special voyage, land gradually disappears and daily concerns are forgotten, even if the phone ringing can bring you hurtling back to earth.
You answer the questions, of course.  You explain things as best you can, but in many ways rather like a spectator watching from the outside. In this forced solitude, the dialogue you have with yourself is too intimate to be shared. You talk of technical details, strategy, anecdotes, but what really makes this voyage so unique is the errant thoughts going through your mind when you are alone, which cannot be explained to others.   

As this voyage is a single-handed adventure in a universe that is reserved for the person going through it.  Back here, we can only catch a glimpse of it through the pictures and words.
Thus, crossing the Equator, there is the famous glass of champagne offered to Neptune. The gesture is part of traditional folklore. But going beyond the mere act, it is a symbol linked to superstitions that live on in your subconscious.
It will not be admitted, as the irrational has no place  in this high tech world. But deep down, these sailors need to reassure themselves, to confirm that everything is under control, even the unknown. At the same time, this allegiance to the God of the Sea is a fun occasion, especially if the champagne is good and not too warm. And then, it can only be a good thing, as it does no harm.

There are other superstitions. The most famous is the one about the animal with big ears, the hare's cousin, whose name must not be mentioned, if you want to avoid bad luck. This tradition goes back to seafaring days.  A lot of people refuse to believe it, but it would be interesting to see how many have taken on board any stew made from that animal. Certainly very few.
It is three in the morning. The Equator is but a memory.  On track, the boat is sailing along nicely.  Upwind, and banging into waves, but nothing like the Bay of Biscay.  In the pale moonlight, you can just about make out the small cumulus clouds, which bob along in the skies that are typical of the trade winds. The wind is  stable and regular.

A spell sail trimming. A bit of work on the winch, ease slightly, tidy the decks once more. All is well. Nothing to do but contemplate the sky, the sails swollen with wind, as beautiful as wings, the wake left behind stretching out and glowing on the surface of the shiny, dark sea.

You should get some rest, but you want to enjoy this precious moment.  So you take the time to be in perfect harmony with your boat in the heart of the night. You really feel that you exist.  You are happy and enjoy the beauty of the world around you.
Later, there will be nothing to tell anyone.  Nothing can be explained.  The feelings are too deep, too personal, too secret.
Back ashore, we can only imagine this other side and try to feel it in our own way.

Dr. Jean-Yves Chauve

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