So as you continue in the race, you become more and more of a spectator. For some time now, the rankings are less and less of a worry, even if it would be nice to move up a place in the rankings. For you, everything has been more or less decided for some time and seeing all the boats being forced to retire, you say the most important thing now is simply to finish in Les Sables d’Olonne without any more damage. Now, you are privileged to be going through this adventure without having to remain focused on your time, with the simple ambition of being able to say, “I was there and managed to complete this non-stop solo voyage around the world called the Vendée Globe.”

You grow increasingly impatient as you head back up the Atlantic. Later after the Azores, when the finish is within sight, you really want to finish the race, but for the moment, you live this moment as an interlude in your life and the experience and intensity are enough to occupy your mind.

But this immersion into the ocean desert was not something that happened from one day to the next. It took time to get used to the phone calls, which drag you back to dry land. There is a difficult contradiction between the desire to experience this solo adventure and the desire to be with those you love. Then, after a few weeks, you really felt like you were a long way away and that life ashore was far beyond the horizon.

You suddenly realised that one morning in the South Atlantic. In the distance, against the sunlight, you could make out the shadowy outline of the island of Tristan da Cunha. You can remember reading somewhere about those 264 inhabitants sent back to England after the island’s volcano erupted. Unable to adapt to consumer society and missing their former way of life, they preferred to go back to their island two years later.

You have realised that your boat had also become an island, a self-sufficient island. So in this solitude that you face, alongside the geographical voyage there is a voyage within yourself. You talk to yourself to hear a voice, you speak to feel less alone, you argue and you curse yourself. You can shout, sing, laugh and scream at yourself. This double is not really a split personality, as long as everything is clear in your head.

A clear head was something that was not really the case for Donald Crowhurst, when, in 1968, he signed up for the Golden Globe, the precursor of the Vendée Globe. He set out aboard a plywood trimaran more suited to fine-weather coastal sailing. His round the world voyage finished at the boundary of the Forties that he did not dare cross. But he hung on to his dream and told his tale over the radio… the Indian Ocean, Australia, the Horn. At the time, there were no beacons to check his route and positions. The ones he sent in by radio were made up, as in reality, he was simply circling in the South Atlantic. While he was at it, he took it a stage further and put himself in the lead in the race. But his dream had the bitter taste of an unbearable lie. Facing up this undeserved fame, he preferred to jump overboard. The boat was to be found with his logbooks, with his the real story and the one he made up, with all his madness and regrets.

Today, such a development is highly unlikely. There are just too many requirements to get to the start for there to be any mistakes about the competitors’ intentions. Once at sea, it is true that some people can feel very low, but not worse than that. Even if you miss certain things during this life alone, you forget them or they fade away as you are too busy working, looking after the boat and experiencing the stress of the voyage. You think of life ashore, but from a distance as an observer. Your desires slip away; your fantasies wither and turn to nothing. Your body adapts to this forced abstinence to the point where your hormonal secretions are automatically reduced until you are back in happier times.

Life will continue for a few more weeks. In this limited existence, the lack of use of your lower limbs means the muscles grow weak. In the final days, if you need to climb the mast, the exercise is likely to feel even tougher. Once ashore, you will have to wait to go jogging and then gradually restart. Getting used to certain things does not only offer advantages. In this desert, where the lack of human life limits the risk of spreading infection, the body works intelligently with its own bacteria called saprophytes. Instead of permanent battles with viruses and pathogens that attack us and which we need to resist all the time, the body’s defence system goes on holiday. So watch out, when you find yourself back on the pontoon surrounded by crowds. To keep its immunity, you body needs to be able to raise its defences instantly against the invaders resulting from handshakes and kisses. A little human contact can offer you the best there is and the worst.

Dr Jean-Yves Chauve