Vendée Globe

In these grey skies stretching out into infinity, your eyes are attracted to something white spinning around, a long way back in your wake.  You hardly have time to see it. Hit by a  wave, it has already disappeared. Bizarre, probably an optical illusion.  Then the spot reappears, a bit closer, but still fading in and out. This time you try to follow it with your eyes, but there it goes again.  Back again. It's getting closer and you start to recognise it

It's a bird. It slides into the trough of a wave, then bobs up again. As it hovers, it turns its wings and comes back down effortlessly without needing to flap its wings. No doubt about it.  You have just seen your first albatross. It is the symbol of the southern seas and the backdrop fits.  Now it's up to you to make your big entrance.
However, the albatross is not alone.  He is accompanied by the wind. It is getting up. You need to reduce your sail, quickly, one reef more in the mainsail.  You carry it out without thinking  and the manoeuvre is completed without hitch. A quick inspection around the deck and the rigging before  heading for the comfort inside.  All's well. You shut the door, to stop the water getting in.  Now you're going to have to keep an eye out.
Sliding off the crest of a wave,the boat accelerates. More than 20 knots. The whistling from the keel becomes more piercing than ever, while the dull groans of the rudders act as accompaniment.  A slap of the bass from the shrouds and the Forties Chamber Orchestra is playing its first pieces of music. But suddenly the fortissimo is interrupted.  You hit the bottom of the wave with the bow digging in. Slamming on the brakes, the hull continues to dive into tons of green water, and the wave breaks on the deck as if it was a beach.  The torrent explodes into a shower over the stanchions and deck fittings, before pouring into the cockpit.  In spite of the lack of light, the droplets of water create a rainbow effect, a moment of colour in this monochrome world.
Sitting at the chart table, you miss the show. There is just the light disappearing as the water covers the portholes, giving you an inkling of what is going on above your head.  There is the uncomfortable feeling of losing control, but you're in the best place.  Once the sails are set, staying outside in the e conditions would be tiring and dangerous.
All you can do is wait for the next wave, with your senses fully alert now.  A swerve. The automatic pilot reacted a bit too slowly.  But it's OK.  You need to watch out though...At these speeds, if the steering is wrong, it can easily lead  to a problem.  The muscles tense up, you're alert, ready to leap outside and grab the helm. Acceleration.  The boat goes over on her side. «What is the pilot doing?» You would have reacted sooner.  But it doesn't react or not enough.  «What on earth?? Should I go out or not?»  If you wait too long, it could be too late. Anything can happen in a split second.  You're already on your feet, but it's fine.  you feel the boat get back on course and right itself.
From the inside, you notice each noise, each movement, even the tiniest in the midst of the din.  You are in perfect harmony with your boat, throughout her construction, as she clocked up the miles, discovered the winds and seas.  You understand her and what she is saying. It has taken time and determination and there have been a few setbacks. But now, even when you are sleeping, you can feel the slightest change in her behaviour. The boat is now your companion, who talks to you, a friend by your side to protect you.  You talk of her in the third person, or directly to her.  An intimate relationship, which it will take time to put behind you later on, when you are back in Le  Sables d’Olonne.

Some boats simply cannot be understood. Beware of them.  With them, the race becomes a battle not against the elements, but against your own boat.
The automatic pilot doesn't yet have that ability to converse with you. You have to teach it the right manners and set it up for the southern swell.  When it has inherited you dexterity, you will feel more confident and maybe sleep without any worries.
A look at the dials: 25 knots. A bit like being a blind man on a dark race track. It's stressful, but you're not going to complain as you were looking forward to this excitement. Nevertheless, it takes some getting used to. The others aren't far away and you know that they're not going to ease off.  The Battle of the Forties is now underway with gybes and wild surfing.  You're not afraid.

Resisting tiredness, this war will last for days and weeks.  Don't push it.  To adapt to these extreme conditions and not to fall in the trap of being worn out physically and mentally, you have to find your own pace, forgetting what others are up to.  It is in this new daily routine that the body will have to find its energy and balance. The weather charts, meals, periods of rest are all episodes punctuating the day. It is by imposing these constraints on yourself that you can react, limiting the stress and any other weaknesses.
Without this control over the permanent tension, the body is heading straight for exhaustion, the «burn out» of the professional world.  Suddenly, when something out of the ordinary happens, you don't know how to react. Covered in a cold sweat, a lump in your threat, with clammy hands, you feel paralysed. Sometimes the reaction is not so obvious and you merely feel a bit tired all the time and you feel like the body isn't doing what you want it to. In a downward spiral where apathy and indifference have replaced energy and motivation, everything becomes much more difficult.
In the race, we're not at that point, but you still need to keep this under check and take care of yourself. To keep at it and succeed in this extreme human endeavour you need to find harmony in your mind and body and especially in the battle against yourself.

Dr Jean-Yves Chauve

 

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