As a youngster, this Breton girl practices during her leisure time the Optimist, the 420, the inshore cruiser and match racing. She attends the Locquirec Sailing School. The more she grows up, the more she admires the professional skippers who compete on the oceans of the globe. This led her to complete her first Tour de Bretagne, in double-handed races, aboard a Figaro Bénéteau, where she finished 15th out of 37 participants. At only 24 years old, by winning the Challenge Bretagne CMB Océane, which ensures her participation in the next French Elite Ocean Racing Championship, she has become, at the heart of the Finistère Course au Large centre, a sailing pro!
The view
It was quite recently, in December 2019, during a selection race to join the Brittany-CMB Team, in which I took part in a Figaro 3. All the competitors had to leave the pontoon in Port-La-Forêt very early in the morning because of the tide. But for the start, we had to wait until the sun came up. So we went to anchor close to the line. It was still pitch black. A very peaceful night, with almost no noise. I was waiting, sitting in the cockpit. And I saw, in quite a short time, it seems to me, the sky change from night to day in a magnificent gradation of colours: from starry black to sky blue, passing by purple, pink, yellow... What a panorama in front of me! I admired it, it soothed me. I was amazed. And I started my day in a different way... A deep feeling, it's true, no doubt amplified by the fact that it was going to be a rather decisive day: the stakes were high for me, because if I managed to join the Finistère offshore racing centre, I would be taking a big step forward in my career as a sailor. Everything went well... and I made progress in the sailing race! Since that day, I've been looking at the sky differently when I take the time to contemplate it..
The touch
For that sense, I remember a day training, which took place off Roscoff in the fall of 2019. It's a season known over there, for its not always pleasant weather: the cold is there, and the storms follow one another! In short, the end of the day was coming, we were finishing the sailing. As we approached the port, a hailstorm suddenly fell on us. I had seen the squall coming, but I had underestimated the violence. I was surprised: I was expecting rain, yes, but not this crowd of hard little hailstones! Waterspouts, not so long, just long enough to find them horrible... It whipped me and almost burned my face, it hammered my body. And the cold, of course, didn't help! I had only one desire: to get to safety. But I couldn't because I had to keep the boat moving. As it started, the hail suddenly stopped. And after these countless icy assaults, I felt an unexpected and gentle warmth on my skin... a real contrast, which I fully appreciated then!
Hearing
Not one, but several memories come to mind. They're all linked to the boat's good performance, they confirm it and thus multiply tenfold this sensation of speed at sea... which I love!
It's first, the vibration of the whole boat, when it goes to the schedule. Certainly, it is a huge noise, and at times you can find it throbbing. But it's like a sound gauge for me, which allows me to know if I'm at the right speed. And when I am, what a joy! Another performance-related noise is the sound of water spray falling down the sides of the hull. It's a unique sound I find, I've never heard it anywhere else but at sea. It also accompanies my sailing: continuous and lively, it is the illustration of a smooth and fast progress and... therefore most enjoyable in a race! That little noise makes my heart beat faster, it's true, it makes my adrenaline rush. There's another sound that I love: the sound of the sail cloth. It can be heard when the wind is blowing the sails well and the boat is really moving forward. It's so nice. It's a bit less pleasant when it's a bit too much, as it can damage the sail cloth. Depending on how loud it is, it can either charm my ears or scratch them!
Taste
It dates back to when I used to do Optimist regattas... They were organized over one day. I was having lunch on board! The trainer would come to see me to talk about the races, to chat a little bit and ask me if I needed to eat or drink. And when I got hungry, I got impatient. I knew what he was going to bring me, and I was salivating in advance... It was my parents who prepared my box with the meal, but what was in it was a friend of mine and I had invented it. We were crazy about it! Today, I have fond memories of it, but I don't enjoy it anymore. I'm not so sure anymore: I'm telling you about it, I'm telling you about it... and I can feel the water coming to my mouth! Oh yes, the recipe for this sandwich, I almost forgot: take a piece of good baguette, fill it with parma ham, grated emmental cheese, and arugula. Add a soft-boiled egg with the yolk flowing inside and melt the cheese a little... a delight!
The sense of smell
Many of these olfactory memories are gathered in one place: the harbour of Brest. That's where I was in sport study, so I trained a lot there. It's an almost enclosed place: you're always close to the shore. And I remember that depending on the wind direction, you could smell very different smells coming from the land. There was one that struck me, but I could never identify where it came from, strangely enough. It must be said that it was, strange, I mean! Imagine coming to tickle your nostrils, while you're in the middle of sailing, the smell of panini cheese! Me, I love this hot sandwich, but to smell it there, quite close to the commercial port of Brest, to the refineries... There was really no reason for it to smell like toast and melted cheese? I have to confess, I was the only one among the students to salivate in that corner of the harbour... However, all of us had located smells and the planes associated with zones: they had almost become navigational tools to characterise the wind direction! For example, as opposed to the cheese panini, there was country, agricultural, land... the countryside in front of Brest!
