pt at large

Nantes, France, on the fly

November 10, 2008

After the spectacularly attended start of the Vendee Globe the day before, the port of Les Sables d’Olonne began returning to post pageant normalcy. Three days before a homeward bound flight, ptatlarge headed for Paris. The smaller train line from Les Sables d’Olonne to Paris switches to a main line in Nantes. Vague memories of a majestic cathedral pictured in a college history book began to tug at me. What’s the rush? The train stops. I stow my duffle bag in the well-organized train station at 10 A.M. and hit the street.

The broad boulevard that fronts the train station is dotted with small hotels and businesses. Across the boulevard is a lovely park. The city seems pocket-sized. How lost can I get? I head for higher ground up a narrow street that borders one side of the park. I know that if I keep scanning the skyline, the spires of the cathedral will lead me to its altar.

The cobblestones of the smaller streets glistened in the light autumn mist. The old architecture and lack of McDonaldry make me feel as if I’m an extra in a François Truffaut movie.

One of the best things about trying to find something in new city is that serendipity rules. In the next four hours, I’ll find that imposing cathedral and a handful of unexpected bonuses. At many intersections within the old city I feel I’m living Robert Frost’s poem 'The Road Not Taken'. In my version, if you don’t like the road you chose, you just walk back and start again. Or you keep going and wonder what’s around the next corner. What you’re looking for and what you’ll find…well, that’s all part of the adventure.

The first surprise is the Jardin des Plantes. The sprawling botanical park was the brainchild of Louis XIV in 1688. Even in November, the muted pastels of autumn are set off by several shades of dense green from evergreen, shrubbery and lawns. Shouts of children horsing around a park playground balance the serenity of the still waters of ponds that snake through the grounds.

Exit the park gate and follow a hunch to follow the sign for Musée des Beaux Arts, the Chapelle de l’Oratorio and higher ground. The Musée on the right will have to wait for another time. If I’m going to spend time indoors, it’s the cathedral I want.

Aha!

Halfway down the street, the nave of the cathedral pops into sight, preceded ironically by a most worldly poster for a modern dance company performance. Got to love France. The religious and the profane within the same blink of an eye. Both will attract an audience. And perhaps some of the same one. Mon Dieu.

I feel smaller and smaller as I circumnavigate the nave to reach the façade of this magnificent structure. I push open a great oak door. I’ve entered St. Peter and St. Paul’s Cathedral.

If a peasant were born the year the first stone was laid in 1434, his lifespan probably would be less than the fifty years it took to complete the façade. The Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the French and American Revolutions and America’s Civil War passed before the last stone was laid on Christmas Day, 1891.

Daylight filters through stain glass windows in what seems a mile overhead (114 feet, to be exact). The echoes of visitor’s footsteps float like clouds amongst the massive vertical columns. I’ll spend the next hour craning my neck to appreciate the stained glass, vaulted ceilings, the small chapels in its nooks, and those massive pillars that support the immense cathedral. 

My major goal fulfilled, I hit the street again. The square in front of the cathedral is quietly commercial. The locals drive by without looking up. The ancient cathedral is as much part of the landscape as the gray November sky overhead. Time to head back to the train station but not in a direct line. Narrow cobbled streets, spokes from the hub the cathedral represents, point in all directions. Deep breath… how about that one?

Five minutes later another ancient vision appears at the end of a narrow street - The Castle of the Dukes of Brittany - an ancient fortress dating back to 1499, recently restored. And another feast for a tourist. Moats, drawbridge, parapets, sculpted facades, watchtowers, spires, and bell tower. Perfect for a production of Cyrano de Bergerac (which it was) and destination for loads of students and their teachers.

My zig zaggy route back to the train station passes park fountains, hotels, and small businesses. And, mais oui, one sex shop.

I find my way back just in time to catch the 2 pm train to Paris.

While I’m typing away for this story, I research Nantes. A four-hour assessment has its limitations.  Pocket sized city - Not. Try 270,251 according to a 1999 census, behind Paris, Marseille, Lyon, Toulouse and Nice.

This city on the Loire River been around since before Julius Caesar referred to it in Commentarii de Bello Gallico, the translation of which Ms. Conlon drilled into me in ninth grade Latin class.

In 2004, Time magazine  described Nantes as "the most livable city in all of Europe.” I would return in a heartbeat.

Click any photo to enlarge

David “Honeyboy” Edwards

David "Honeyboy" Edwards is 93. His face is craggy, his body creaky. Nothing old about his hands though. His finger picking and bottleneck slide work over the frets of his guitar are powerful and inventive. He plays blues songs he learned growing up around Shaw, Mississippi and as an itinerant musician. His spoken and sung words are thick in the dialect of the rural South and the sounds he coaxes from his guitar are echoes of music that drifted over the cotton fields after the sun had set.

As a blues fan, you’d be inclined to want to get to a concert by a musician with a name like David “Honeyboy” Edwards before you knew a damn thing about him. When you found out he is the last of the great Mississippi Delta blues players, is 93 years old, and is on his last extended road trip, you'd trip over yourself getting to the phone to get tickets for his performance. He played to a sold-out Regattabar last Saturday, November 22.

Metal picks on the thumb and forefinger of right hand, bottleneck steel cap on ring finger of his left hand, Edwards coaxes sounds from the neck of his guitar that evoke African American roots music and themes trailing back a hundred years: hard traveling, attempts to make a living, gambling, segregationist attitudes of the South, and of course women - good or bad, sweet or sassy.

Edwards father bought him a guitar when he was thirteen and a guitar has seldom been more than an arm’s length away ever since. From the early 1950s he played everywhere from boxcars and juke joints to little notice. In 1972, he met up with harmonica player Michael Frank while playing on Chicago’s North Side. Frank saw Edward’s potential and has managed and played with him ever since.

When 60’s British rockers like Eric Clapton and Jimmy Paige were asked who inspired their styles, they extolled the virtuosity of men like Edwards, Robert Johnson, and Sonny Boy Williamson. Were it not for music archivist Alan Lomax, the rockers and the rest of the world might never have heard of Edwards. Lomax's mission in life was to preserve traditional music and promote cultural equity. Impressed by Edwards’ makeshift style and chord changes, Lomax recorded Edwards on one of his trips through Mississippi in 1942.

Edwards is a relic of the Deep South in more than one way. His Delta dialect, especially when singing, is so thick I couldn’t make out more than a repeated chorus or the first few words of each song. If I hadn’t listened to a few clips of his music on youtube before I went to the show, I wouldn’t have had a clue of the lyrics of “Gamblin’ Man.”

Nothing undecipherable about his musicality though. His finger picking, slide work,  rhythm and timing patterns are echoes of music improvised and played for entertainment of field hands and revelers a century ago. Both Michael Frank and guitar accompanist Rocky Lawrence often held back before adding their licks because they couldn’t predict precisely where Edwards would go from bar to bar. Neither could we and it made up for the frustration of not being to comprehend his lyrics.

Mr. Frank realizes that Edwards is a rich source of oral history. Toward the end of the set he prompts Edwards with a Q and A session. The result is a spellbinding glimpse into history. He told the story of his first public appearance. “I was so small they put me over in a corner in the shadows so no one would see me. I only knew a few songs but I played ‘em all night and the people were so happy to have music they didn’t care.” We have to listen intently to interpret his dialect but the stories are riveting.

 One story recounted why black people went out of their way not to drive through Georgia. Another recounted the time he and a blind musician were hitchhiking, were picked up by a truck that stopped a few miles down the road, and each handed a sack and told to get into the field and pick cotton.

“Musicians like him usually only get honored when they die, “said Greg Sarni, who sat at the next table and struck up a conversation when he saw me scribbling in my notepad. “I booked him for our Boston Blues Festival several times. We honored him with a Lifetime Achievement Award in 1998.” He generously handed me a copy of “Live at the Boston Blues Festival, Vol. II” on which Honeyboy Edwards graced the cover of the Blues Trust’s CD.

Born in 1915 to sharecropper parents in Shaw, Mississippi, fifteen miles from the great river, David “Honeyboy” Edwards is one of the last living gateways to our musical and cultural past.

From being picked up on a dusty road and told to pick cotton for $.75 a day to head-lining concerts at major venues across the country, from being jailed for vagrancy for walking the streets on a weekday in  Mississippi to looking into the White House and seeing a black man as president of the United States of America, this man has seen it all.

Whether or not he made money or gained recognition,the blues of the Mississippi Delta is in his blood. He can't stop singing it any more than he can stop breathing.

David "Honeyboy" Edwards is 93. His face is craggy, his body creaky. Nothing old about his hands though. His finger picking and bottleneck slide work over the frets of his guitar are powerful and inventive. He plays blues songs he learned growing up around Shaw, Mississippi and as an itinerant musician. His spoken and sung words are thick in the dialect of the rural South and the sounds he coaxes from his guitar are echoes of music that drifted over the cotton fields after the sun had set.

As a blues fan, you’d be inclined to want to get to a concert by a musician with a name like David “Honeyboy” Edwards before you knew a damn thing about him. When you found out he is the last of the great Mississippi Delta blues players, is 93 years old, and is on his last extended road trip, you'd trip over yourself getting to the phone to get tickets for his performance. He played to a sold-out Regattabar last Saturday, November 22.

Metal picks on the thumb and forefinger of right hand, bottleneck steel cap on ring finger of his left hand, Edwards coaxes sounds from the neck of his guitar that evoke African American roots music and themes trailing back a hundred years: hard traveling, attempts to make a living, gambling, segregationist attitudes of the South, and of course women - good or bad, sweet or sassy.

Edwards father bought him a guitar when he was thirteen and a guitar has seldom been more than an arm’s length away ever since. From the early 1950s he played everywhere from boxcars and juke joints to little notice. In 1972, he met up with harmonica player Michael Frank while playing on Chicago’s North Side. Frank saw Edward’s potential and has managed and played with him ever since.

When 60’s British rockers like Eric Clapton and Jimmy Paige were asked who inspired their styles, they extolled the virtuosity of men like Edwards, Robert Johnson, and Sonny Boy Williamson. Were it not for music archivist Alan Lomax, the rockers and the rest of the world might never have heard of Edwards. Lomax's mission in life was to preserve traditional music and promote cultural equity. Impressed by Edwards’ makeshift style and chord changes, Lomax recorded Edwards on one of his trips through Mississippi in 1942.

Edwards is a relic of the Deep South in more than one way. His Delta dialect, especially when singing, is so thick I couldn’t make out more than a repeated chorus or the first few words of each song. If I hadn’t listened to a few clips of his music on youtube before I went to the show, I wouldn’t have had a clue of the lyrics of “Gamblin’ Man.”

Nothing undecipherable about his musicality though. His finger picking, slide work,  rhythm and timing patterns are echoes of music improvised and played for entertainment of field hands and revelers a century ago. Both Michael Frank and guitar accompanist Rocky Lawrence often held back before adding their licks because they couldn’t predict precisely where Edwards would go from bar to bar. Neither could we and it made up for the frustration of not being to comprehend his lyrics.

Mr. Frank realizes that Edwards is a rich source of oral history. Toward the end of the set he prompts Edwards with a Q and A session. The result is a spellbinding glimpse into history. He told the story of his first public appearance. “I was so small they put me over in a corner in the shadows so no one would see me. I only knew a few songs but I played ‘em all night and the people were so happy to have music they didn’t care.” We have to listen intently to interpret his dialect but the stories are riveting.

 One story recounted why black people went out of their way not to drive through Georgia. Another recounted the time he and a blind musician were hitchhiking, were picked up by a truck that stopped a few miles down the road, and each handed a sack and told to get into the field and pick cotton.

“Musicians like him usually only get honored when they die, “said Greg Sarni, who sat at the next table and struck up a conversation when he saw me scribbling in my notepad. “I booked him for our Boston Blues Festival several times. We honored him with a Lifetime Achievement Award in 1998.” He generously handed me a copy of “Live at the Boston Blues Festival, Vol. II” on which Honeyboy Edwards graced the cover of the Blues Trust’s CD.

Born in 1915 to sharecropper parents in Shaw, Mississippi, fifteen miles from the great river, David “Honeyboy” Edwards is one of the last living gateways to our musical and cultural past.

From being picked up on a dusty road and told to pick cotton for $.75 a day to head-lining concerts at major venues across the country, from being jailed for vagrancy for walking the streets on a weekday in  Mississippi to looking into the White House and seeing a black man as president of the United States of America, this man has seen it all.

Whether or not he made money or gained recognition,the blues of the Mississippi Delta is in his blood. He can't stop singing it any more than he can stop breathing.

Vendée Globe 6: To the starting line

 The little town of Les Sables d’Olonne shouldered aside every other city and hamlet in France and became, for this one day, the capital of the French sporting world. November 9, 2008, would be the start of the Vendée Globe Around The World race. It seemed like the entire countryside within Pays de-la-Loire was lifted up on one side and its citizenry all tumbled through a funnel that poured into this seaside town.

At dawn, cars were vying for parking places along streets over a mile from the Vendée Globe village. Camper vehicles that had arrived the night before dotted the roadside. Driving in from his accommodations several miles from town, Rich Wilson began to fidget at the wheel as traffic began to crawl. This was the last time he’d be piloting an automobile for a long, long time.

Getting to the marina put him in the mindset  he will live with on Great American III for the next three months at sea - go as fast as possible without breaking anything.

The sky at the horizon lightened to a steel gray as we pulled into the parking lot designated for the racers and organizers.

Rich and Ellen had a few last quiet moments...

and ptatlarge wishes GAIII good luck.

After days tinkering, checking, double-checking, stowing, and arranging, time was up.

.

The last freshwater rinse for the foredeck...

 

as Rich's crew attaches halyards to mainsails...

and readies the wind generator.

An eerie calm settled over the dock like the fine mist that was falling from the leaden skies. Goodbyes were said. Akena Vérandas skipper Arnaud Boissière holds his son close for the last time till around next spring.

Rich wishes his friend Unai Basurko, Spanish skipper of Pakea Bizkaia, good luck...

then waits for his turn with the French crew he's known for decades...

until it's his turn.

Shortly after 9 am, at four minute intervals, the thirty Open 60 monohulls were towed by from the dock, through the fishing and commercial fleet in the harbor. A tremendous hullabaloo erupted as each boat passed - cheers, air horns, boat sirens - as helicopters hovered overhead.

The population of Les Sables d’Olonne is 15, 000. By 1:00 pm, an estimated 300,000 men, women, and children were squashed into every possible space along the harbor and the stone-lined narrow channel that connects it to the Atlantic Ocean. For today, this was World Cup Soccer and the Tour de France all rolled up into one. No one in this part of France wanted to miss the spectacle.

Team members were allowed to stay aboard and assist with raising sails for the start three miles offshore and take photos of the engine shaft which had to be sealed. By thirty minutes before start time, the crew had to have leapt into the Zodiacs that had escorted the boats out.

Moment for GAIII... Halfway down the channel, a crowd sees the American flag fluttering from Great American III’s stern and begins to sing the Star Spangled Banner. The French know the first verse and sort of hum the rest.

Rich, standing on the bow, gestures to the crowd, hand over heart, a big lump in his throat. The improvised banner reflects the French elation at the election of Barack Obama. From the comments he received on the dock, Rich knew he was riding a wave of goodwill generated by the election of Barack Obama a five days before this Sunday, November 9, 2008.

Once GAII disappeared from view, ptatlarge headed for the pressroom...

to watch the race on national TV.

An hour after the sleek Open 60s departed, it was a shock to see the pontoon dock bereft of the millions of dollars worth of the world's fastest monohulls. As in Cinderella, the clock had struck and the world at Les Sables d'Olonne had lost its magical luster...

and the channel to the sea returned to the normalcy of commercial and fishermen's traffic...

while just outside the harbor, the skippers jockied for position at the starting line just off the coast.

Photos, unless labeled "Ouest-France" in right corner, are by ptatlarge

Vendée Globe Statistics: _• 15,000 spectators on the water in 100 passenger boats, and 300 recreational boats;_• 300,000 people on the ground_• 1,200 media and journalists including 380 overseas. _• At the start time 150,000 people were connected to www.vendeeglobe.org

Vendée Globe 5: Demi-gods Of The Seas

“Reeech, Reeeech…” they shout. And Rich Wilson invariably emerges from the cabin of Great American III, where he’s been sorting out about 100 things on his pre-race to-do list, to sign autographs and talk to the the kids in French. 

Rich Wilson knows his real audience. He visibly lightens up when school kids congregate at Great American III’s stern.

 

 “On this race we have 26 different newspapers all across the USA which will publish a 15 part weekly series, all under contract. We have five more newspapers which will promote the program on line. We will get to six million readers for the weekly pieces 250,000 – 300,000 school kids participating, and a 60 page teachers’ guide,” he says.

Rich will spend the better part of the next 100 days in and out of his cabin, holding on for  dear life, as his Open 60 design monohull is battered by the storms he knows that are lurking in the ‘doldrums’ then surfs wildly down the huge swells of the  southern ocean on his way around Antarctica.

 

To the spectators on tbe docks, the 30 skippers who qualified for the Vendée Globe race are demi-gods, super stars of the seas. Dee Caffari (GBR), skipper of "Aviva" , signs...

The French love the sea, the drama, and the preposterous nature of this race, sailors hurtling around the world on unpredictably turbulent seas in their sailboats constructed with carbon fiber and dreams.

The race was founded by a Frenchman, Philippe Jeantot. Of the thirteen racers who qualified for the first race in 1989, only seven finished - all Frenchman, including Loick Peyron (now with more gray hair but no less a fire to win this race).

Every previous race (1989, 1992, 1996, 2000, 2004), and now this one, has had a predominantly French lineup. Think of it as a NASCAR event on the water and having a chance to chat with one of the drivers on the day before the race.

Everyone is in awe of these men and women - such as Samantha "Sam" Davies of "Roxy" (GBR), trying out her foul weather gear.

 

It is regarded as the ultimate in ocean racing. When you get close enough to a skipper like America's "Reech" Wilson, get his autograph, and have a chance to wish him "Bon courage!", you are one very happy kid.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Vendée Globe 4a: Team and Retinue

Rich has known Hugues and Flo Riousse for years. They arrived  at Les Sables d'Olonne from their home in France as soon as Great American III did and have been mainstays in readying GAIII for sea. Hughes actually worked on boats Rich's father owned. Quiet and knowledgeable, they are fonts of knowledge, cultural and nautical. In response from one of my dozens of questions, Flo eplained how France is divided into 22 administrative regions, each subdivided into 'departments. Les Sable d'Olonne is in the Pays-de-la-Loire region and in the department of Vendée.

 

  Rick Williams, chief technical advisor, weighs in on every aspect of Great American III's readiness: sails, computer systems, hardware. He's worked with Rich in previous sailing campaigns, knows how the skipper wants things done and makes it happen.
He's had thousands of miles of cruising and racing experience on multi-hulls and monohull sailing vessels...a good man for Rich to bounce ideas off and listen to

 

 

Dianna Fletcher - in charge of publicity for Great American's historic challenge. From the  press rooms to the pontoons during race week, Dianna tried to capture everything and everyone on her camera.

 

 

"Trip" Lowell (L) , longtime friend of Rich's, was ready to do anything anytime. He hauled equipment, loaded supplies, scrubbed the decks - a one-man committee getting things done that needed to be done...like testing a harness for going up the mast.

 

Bill Griffen, USMC, retired, and Rich were deeply moved as they read a email from Jacques Adelee. In honor of the November 11th anniversary of Armistice Day, two days after the start of the Vendée Globe race, Adelee offered to bring Rich one of the flags he uses to decorate graves of American servicemen who died in WWII in one of the cemeteries in France.

Griffen watches an emotional presentation as Jacques Adele, accompanied by his wife Nadine, presents the flag to Rich on November 8th, one day before the race commences.

Ellen Stone sorts food for the race. Rich is provisioned for 120 days. A skilled organizer and trusted confidante, she's assembled a packet of 'inspirational readings' Rich can pull out of a packet when he needs a 'pick me up.' In a race of this magnitude, every skipper will have days he/she needs such a packet. Rich loves poetry. He can recite "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" on cue.

Three of the "Big Boys," supporters of Great American III, with Ellen Stone: Robert Shotwell, John Scolley, and Bill Metcalfe.

Scott Hamilton, another "Big Boy" who's come to see Rich off, presents him with a string of Tibetan Prayer flags. The five colors represent the five classic elements: Space, Air, Water, Fire, Earth. The four animals representing the four cardinal directions are drawn in the corners and the Wind Horse in the center of each flag. As they flutter into tatters, they carry the prayers to the heavens.

Bob Shotwell presents Rich with an all-purpose "Leatherman", a toolbox-in- the-pocket gizmo that will tied to Rich's belt for the next three months!

Calories! Chocolatier Patrick Gelencser's business card was a cannister of chocolate (in Rich's left hand) he and his two sons delivered to each skipper. It will be a miracle if any is left by race's end.

 

Nonnie Burnes, Massachusetts Insurance Commissioner, and Rick Burnes, Co-Founder and Partner of Charles River Ventures, are Rich's long time friends. Avid sailors, they understand full well the challenge Great American III faces in the coming months.

Thierry Dubois comes to wish Rich good luck. Dubois sailed the Open 60 now known as Great American III in the 2000 Vendée Globe.

Brian Harris, General Manager of Maine Yacht Center in Portland, Maine, was in charge of refitting Great American III. The yard rebuilt the boat's bow, modified its canting keel, and installed all new electronics, a new navigation system and a new engine.

Family support! "Les Soeurs," Rich's three sisters, Anne, Eleanor, and Sarah, with friend Margaret McGovern (taking photo of pt in action), helped send Rich off.

As did John and Leezy Sculley.

Bill Metcalfe is about to set Great American III loose on its greatest adventure yet...

 

 which sets off a flurry of everyone taking pictures of everyone else!

Neal Skorka, an unseen presence, has been the captain of Rich's website www.sitesalive.com for years.

And pt at large has been scribbling notes, hanging out in the Vendée Globe press room, and taking pictures all week!

Photos by Paul A.  Tamburello, Jr.

Vendée Globe 4: The People

The Vendée Globe Village was a magnet that attracted  800,000 men, women and children.

Update 12-21-2008: Of the 30 boats that crossed the start line on November 9, 12 boats have had to abandon the race, 10 due to mechanical failures or dismastings, one due to an injured skipper, and one case of the boat running aground while attempting to make emergency repairs on the Kerguelen Archipelago, 49 degrees south, 70 degrees east, midway between Africa, Antarctica, and Australia.

This is the 42nd day of the race. From the leader to the last boat, there is a span of 3954 miles, around two weeks sailing time. The lead boat is 11,785 miles from the finish and is nearly halfway through the course, the last boat is 15,739 miles from the finish.

 

 Click photos to enlarge.

 From October 18 to November 9, teachers, tots, grandparents, lovers, tourists, and anyone interested at getting a stunningly close up view of the most magnificent sailboats in the world

streamed through the temporarily erected pavilions then down the ramps to the ‘pontoons” to which the boats were tied.The pavilions contained restaurants, cafes, educational exhibits, a media center in which the skippers and organizers were interviewed, and, of course,  merchandise.
 
A memento junkie could find enough free full color posters and pamphlets given out in the entry tent to cover every room in the house. The entire experience was free.

You could spend euros on ‘jambon fromage’ baguettes or traditional crepes or souvenir paraphernalia but not for entry to this quadrennial event that was a cross between a nautical Disneyworld and a full fledged national occasion.

In order   not to lose their charges in the milling crowds, teachers had their kids wear something that would visually stand out. So every so often, a little island of red slickers or yellow rain hats would be seen moving along like a teeny chunk of flotsam caught amongst the taller adults in the tide of spectators flowing down the dock.

For ptatlarge, this was a chance to capture the range of people enjoying the event...

and capture moments...of spectators spectating...

either captivated by each other...

 or by the activities aboard the Open 60 yachts a few feet away.

From October 18 to November 9, teachers, tots, tourists, lovers, grandparents, over 800,000 in all, streamed through the temporarily erected pavilions and down the ramp to get a stunningly close up view of the "Open 60" racing boats, each worth the GDP of a small country, and hope for a glimpse of one of the skippers who would embark on November 9 to attempt to navigate "solo" around the world.

All photos and video, except top photo, by ptatlarge, Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Vendée Globe 3: The Education Pavilion-2

Les Sables d’Olonne is a thriving fishing and commercial port, a city in the Vendée “department” of the Pays-de-la-Loire region of France.  The Vendée Globe event is a unique public-private enterprise with fiercely held local roots. Everyone from the Vendée Chamber of Commerce down to local businesses is a proud collaborator in the success of the race. They realize it attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors and illuminates the bounty the area offers tourists and locals alike.

It’s as close to a family run mega event as you can imagine. The major private enterprise footing the bill is Sodeb’O, a small processed meat and catering company based in the area and a market leader in refrigerated products including pizzas, sandwiches, pancakes, and hot dishes.

For the citizens and businesses of Les Sables d’Olonne and the Vendée area of Pay de-la-Loire, this event is as big as the Olympics. They leave nothing to chance in their goal to make it a perfect event.

 

Of the 15,000 square meter ‘village’ of temporary pavilions the partnership erects in the marina every four years, 600 square meters are devoted to education. So when the skipper tells me to visit it, I head up there.

 The education pavilion is a kid’s dream of a place. Around every corner, there’s an activity to get your hands on or a well-produced video to watch.  Two prominent videos show “What is the Vendée Globe?” and “Twenty four hours in the life of a skipper.”

 Want to see what it’s like to maneuver a boat on the open sea?    Step up to the tiller or a wheel and watch a video in front of you point a boat through the water in the direction you’ve headed it.  Want to know how to raise the main sail? Grab the halyard at the “mast” installation and haul a Dacron sail up a mini mast, then lower it.

It’s no wonder the girls nearly outnumber the boys in the line. Samantha Davies  (Roxy) and Dee Caffari (Aviva), both of Great Britain, are two of the 30 high profile skippers who qualified for the race.

Cutaway models show the innards of an Open 60 featuring what life is like about an Open 60: how and what the skippers eat, how they relax or celebrate rounding Cape Horn or open gifts loved ones have packed for them for special occasions, how they try to keep hygiene with Spartan amount of water, what they use for the bathroom (a plastic bucket!), how and where they sleep and communicate to the outside world, how they manage sails and keels and ballast, how radios use satellite to relay beams, and how solar power works.

Organizers tout local industry. Les Sables d’Olonne still produces sea salt: a poster shows how the desalinization process works.   

“Become a fisherman,” a hands on panorama scene wired to a series of occupations shows the types of fishing opportunities that exist right off the pavilion’s water’s edge. 

Another display shows the geology of the coast: reach your hand into a hole recessed at its base and feel the different kinds of rock and sand of which the coast’s layers are composed. 

Organizers are making their case for their youngsters to find vocational and environmental reasons to stay put in the region instead of migrating to urban areas.

 The atmosphere in the pavilion is electric. The decibel level is high, the good kind of high that registers as engagement not cacophony.

Many high school aged kids and grade schoolers are focused on particular exhibits in order to answer questions on forms their teachers oblige them to complete. No one complains about answering questions about the Beaufort Scale or survival gear the skippers must have aboard or the heights and weight of the Vendee Globe boats. They’re too busy doing what they love. Getting their hands on things and watching videos. When they finish, they’re prepped to finish the day by walking a few hundred yards down to the ‘pontoons’ to see the most exotic sailboats in the world.

Adults can try their hand at steering in a virtual environment. They’re fitted with goggles and do their best to keep an Open 60 sailing in a straight line.  Spectators see how daunting a task this is as they watch the video screen showing an Open 60 plow through the water with a landlubber at the helm.  And shake their heads in amazement that the skippers being interviewed in the 800 square meter multimedia area in the next pavilion manage to accomplish it.

Rich was right. This was as fine an off-site educational environment as I'd ever seen. And a place to have as much fun as the kids. 

Photos except for last one Paul  A. Tamburello, Jr.

Vendée Globe 3: The Education Pavilion-1

“Visit the education pavilion, you’ll love it,” Rich Wilson says after he’s given me a tour of Great American III at the dock in Les Sables d’Olonne, France. Rich is the only American to qualify for the quadrennial Vendée Globe single-handed, around the world, non-stop, with no assistance, 25,000 mile race. He’ll be at sea about 100 days.

Anyone who does this sort of sailing qualifies as being a certifiably driven person. At the Vendée Globe  starting line on November 9, 2008, there were 29 other skippers who, for their own reasons, needed to pit themselves against the muscle and fickle fury of nearly every sea and ocean on the planet. They put themselves on an aqueous rack, knowing it might break them or their thoroughbred 60-foot monohull sailboats. It’s not that they don’t care. They simply know a piece of their psyches would wither and die if they didn’t test themselves in this event, called the “Everest of Yacht Racing.”

Rich Wilson, at 58 years of age, knows his days of high wire sailing are dwindling. What isn’t diminished is his desire to connect with school age kids.

He knows that ocean adventure and the life lessons learned from it are a natural fit for teachers, parents and kids. He’s proved it three times between 1993 and 2003 with three voyages aboard his trimaran Great American II in which he broke records established by the fastest ships in the Age of Sail, all the while sharing the adventure at www.sitesalive.com with thousands of students, including mine.

For the next three months at sea, in addition to making sail changes, studying weather maps, plotting courses, repairing anything that goes bump in the night - from software to autopilots to sailing gear - he’ll be making pod casts and writing essays for his educational program.

“On this race we have 26 different newspapers all across the USA which will publish a 15 part weekly series, all under contract. We have five more newspapers which will promote the program on line. We will get to six million readers for the weekly pieces 250,000 – 300,000 schoolkids participating, and a 60 page teachers’ guide,” he says.

I’ve known him since 1990, the year he and his crewmate aboard the trimaran Great American I, spent several hours upside down in 65 foot seas about 400 miles from nowhere off the tip of Cape Horn, but that’s another story.

 Rich visited my fourth graders and me as recently as 2003, after breaking the Hong Kong - New York clipper ship record set by Sea Witch in 1849. He’s a natural in front of an audience of any age, easily identifying ‘teachable moments’ as they pop up in his presentations.

Now Rich, aboard Great American III, an Open 60 monohull built in 1999, is five days from departing for the biggest challenge of his career.

When a guy of world-class stature says, “Check out the education pavilion,” you do it.

Vendée Globe 2: Skipper, Teacher, Entrepreneur - Rich Wilson

Part 2

Rich Wilson of Marblehead, MA
Great American III, click photos to enlarge

For recognition on the continent, the Vendée Globe solo ocean race around the world is on par the Tour de France and World Cup soccer. French sponsors cough up between 7 and 15 million bucks to build a competitive Open 60 racing boat. 

During the week preceding the November 9th race, it seemed as if every man, woman, and child from the Vendee region of France and many from well beyond, came to Les Sables d’Olonne (south of Nantes) to see these mythic racing machines tied to the dock in the active fishing port.

Over several days, hundreds of thousands of people surge slowly up and down the long pier, inches from the sterns of these million-dollar thoroughbred sailing machines. They peer inside the cockpits, check their programs to see who is captaining  each boat and salute skippers with shouts of encouragement when they see them aboard. The top ten skippers who began the race on November 9th are super stars. When one of them strides down the dock, the crowd parts as if Moses were crossing the Red Sea.

The only American who qualified for the 2008 Vendée Globe is Rich Wilson of Marblehead, MA. The guy has super star credentials. He’s been vaporizing sailing records since he was the youngest skipper to win the Newport - Bermuda race in 1980. He’s handsome, smart, tough, and unflappable when the going gets rough. He epitomizes a certain American ideal of the restless adventurer, relentlessly on the move, dreaming up and mowing down one goal after another, always in search of another challenge.

Well, he’s found the ultimate nautical challenge here and the crowds who see him when he emerges from Great American III’s cabin from time to time realize that.

They respect the 28 men and two women who have qualified, regardless of the order each might finish the race.

At 58, he’s the oldest skipper in the race ("Je suis un homme vieux dans un bateau vieux [I'm an old man in an old boat]," he jokes to spectators in the passable French he's resurrected from his school days.) His boat isn’t the fastest, it is one of the oldest, and he’s not going to win. Some dreams will gnaw a hole in your soul if you don’t challenge yourself to try them. For a world class sailor like Wilson, this “Everest of ocean racing” is one of them.

Rich Wilson may have the most impressively eclectic resume of any skipper in the race: businessman, high school teacher, defense analyst, desalinization plant consultant, investor, container ship industry analyst. All preceded by Math and M. B.A degrees from Harvard College and an Ocean Resources Management degree from M.I.T.

Ask him and in a heartbeat he’ll tell you his favorite venture  - founder in 1989 of Ocean Challenge, Inc., producing interactive programs related to oceans, rainforest, wetlands, and marine life for the K-12 population.

From 1990 until 2003, Wilson parlayed his sailing challenges into “learning adventures” with schools across the country. On his trimaran Great American, the skipper and one shipmate would attempt to smash trans-oceanic records set by the great clipper ships.

His first attempt to break the San Francisco to New York record set by Northern Light in the Gold Rush year of 1853 ended in a near tragic experience as his vessel was capsized in 65 foot seas off Cape Horn. He and his shipmate escaped death when their trimaran was miraculously turned right side up by another immense wave and subsequently rescued by a giant container ship, New Zealand Pacific. Great American was swallowed by the sea. Most mortals would have called it a day and thought up less dangerous ways to engage in the learning business.

Not this man. The response Wilson felt when he visited the classrooms with whom he’d been linked by radio telephone and newsletter as part of his ‘learning adventure” so overwhelmed him that he decided to try again. From 1993 until 2003, aboard Great American II (History),  Rich and a shipmate broke clipper ship records set in the 'Golden Age of Sail' from San Francisco to Boston (Gold Rush), Melbourne to New York (Australian Gold Rush), and Hong Kong to New York (China Tea trade).

Rich Wilson visits my fourth graders after his 2003 Melbourne-New York record-breaking voyage on Great American II

Wilson pioneered use of the internet for interactive learning long before it became mainstream.  In 1993, he hooked up with Prodigy and classrooms across the country, including my own class of fourth graders in Brookline, MA, followed his voyages online.  Newspapers on both coasts carried news of his voyages in a weekly “Newspapers in Education” series. The archives of past voyages and daily progress in this year's Vendee Globe race is online at another site Wilson created, www.sitesalive.com.

Today, the website bursts with life in the present tense aboard Great American III. Each day Wilson types a ship’s log, transmits a podcast, and includes the ship’s coordinates overlaid on a google terra world map. The essays often reflect on science, geography, history, and math. The podcasts give a kinetic sense of the grueling job of making the boat go as fast as it can without breaking: incessant sail changes, often based on computer generated programs matching wind and sea conditions to optimal sail load and course. And the human element, the knowledge Wilson has accumulated in his lifetime at sea.

"A primary motivator for me is the huge sail program we have going on in the USA. Twenty five newspapers are publishing a weekly series I write from the boat. Those are important to write well. I don't send the first draft but have it right by about the seventh, eight or tenth draft," he says matter of factly in a recent podcast. "That keeps me inspired, and excited."  He goes on enthusiastically to describe taking a picture of a squid which landed on his deck, imagining the excitement of "kids who've never seen one before." The man's a born teacher.

On the second day of the Vendée Globe race, a violent wave tosses him like a rag doll across the cabin ramming his back into a metal handrail. He lays crumpled, in fear and intense pain. Crawling to a transat phone, he consults his onshore doctor. They figure he’s cracked a rib.  He slows the boat down so he can recover. Every pull on the ship’s ropes and crank on the coffee grinder winch in the cockpit produces extreme agony in his back. Not a whine in his voice. Just a plan. Pull himself together then sail on.

Parents, teachers, and the rest of us following Wilson’s quest understand what school-age youngster’s are learning by this man’s example. How to deal with setbacks and adversity and not lose faith. Make Plan B and keep going. And take pleasure photographing of squid, flying fish, and the moon and stars from a coordinate on the planet none of us will ever occupy.

One last-minute interview before the November 9 start

Incredibly, no American corporations have signed on to sponsor him. Considering his audience, maybe the National Teacher’s Association should kick in a few million. And for every parent who’s looking for a role model who is tough, smart, modest, grounded, and one of the best in the world at what he does?

How about kicking in ten bucks and bookmarking http://vg.sitesalive.com on your kid’s computer.

 

 

 

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Vendée Globe 1: One American vs. the World

Part 1
Background/click on photos to enlarge

In the entire sailing universe, only 30 skippers qualified for the Vendée Globe solo, non-stop, 26,000 mile, round the world race that left France on November 9th. One of them lives in Marblehead, MA.

It is appalling that the local media hasn't jumped on the chance to feature the accomplishments of this world-class sailor living in our midst. He is the only American who qualified for the race. Of the 30 boats that crossed the starting line, 4 have already had to abandon the race: two boats were dismasted in violent seas of the first two days, one hit a submerged object, and one suffered a failed electronic system.

Rich Wilson of Marblehead, MA is a crafty veteran. Another shocking fact, considering the world-class event he qualified to enter, is that Wilson has no deep pocket sponsor.  He steadily sails on buoyed  by private contributions and a ton of pluck.  The biggest media presence is through the educational site he's created. About a quarter of a million school kids and their teachers are following Wilson on www.sitesalive.com. If you really get inspired after reading about him, make a contribution to his campaign right there.

pt and his fourth graders followed Wilson's progress on three record-setting voyages (1993, 2001, 2003). We read his captain's logs, checked his daily progress, sent him messages via his online site, once received a call from him while he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and welcomed him into our classroom in 2003. ptatlarge spent the five days prior to the race start as Wilson's guest in Les Sables d'Olonne, France.

In France, the Vendee Globe race is up there with world cup soccer. The sailboat race sets off every four years from Les Sables d’Olonne,  a huge commercial fishing port on the coast of France, hogs headlines in French newspapers for the weeks before the start, and draws hundreds of thousands of spectators. It is the most spectacularly demanding ocean race in the world. In America, it is virtually unknown. 

What is the Vendée Globe? Start at Les Sables d’Olonne, leave the Cape of Good Hope/Africa  to port (your left, for you landlubbers), leave Cape Leeuwin/Australia to port, leave Cape Horn/South America to port, leave Antarctica to starboard (right) and finish at Les Sables d’Olonne. 26,000 nautical miles. Non-stop. Without assistance. In around 100 days. In specially designed 60 foot monohull sailboats. Alone.

 An equally understated description would be, start at the bottom, walk up until you’ve gained the top, then walk back down… Mount Everest.

The French are madmen when it comes to ocean racing. In the late 1980s, Phillippe Jeantot, twice a winner of BOC Challenge round the world race, decided that sailing solo around the world from port to port wasn’t a pure enough nautical experience. 

“Time is a necessary factor to attain perfect harmony with one’s sailboat. We had to forget about stopping. A round-the-world race, without stopovers or assistance, such were the conditions to reach the desired communion,” he said. 

Leave it to a Frenchman to reduce the monumental challenge to spiritual journey. Gallic temperament thrives on bold dreams. Jeantot sparked the imagination of the Vendee region of France to dare to host it. To this day, they have a firm grip on it, recognizing that it pumps money into their town and fame to their region. Think of how proud Boston is of the original Boston Marathon.

Never underestimate what zeal and mild insanity can produce. In 1989, the first Vendée Globe was born. Thirteen sailors set off from Les Sables d’Olonne. For public consumption, they might have put on airs of confidence and bravado. Many observers doubted they’d all come back alive. But they did. And were lionized by the public.

The skippers who pursue the Vendée Globe are knights of the sea. To finish this race is to touch the Holy Grail. Carbon fiber and leading edge design technology replace fiery steeds in the tournament. The first six finishers receive cash prizes. The rest, who finish or whose boats break in the effort, go to their graves knowing they looked into the eyes of the most brutal ocean race in the world and did not blink.

Of the 13 sailors who qualified for the first 1989 edition, 7 finished. All Frenchmen. The 6 others, from France, USA, South Africa, were either eliminated because they needed assistance or retired because their boats broke. Extreme sport was born.

In the five races since then, one sailor drowned and one was lost at sea. The skippers won't talk about it, but death is an invisible passenger on every boat that has ever entered this contest. The sixth Vendée Globe got underway Sunday November 9th  at 1:02 pm. Three hundred thousand spectators cheered them on as they made their way to the starting line three miles off the coast of Les Sables d’Olonne.

The American flag waved briskly from the stern of one of the Open 60 class boats: Great American III skippered by Rich Wilson of Marblehead, MA.

Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

 

Rich Wilson, Vendée Globe Race 2008, An Invitation

What is The Vendee Globe? Here’s the skinny. 30 boats. 30 skippers. Around the world. Non stop. Full speed. Four months. Alone. Absurdly high tech, light-weigh monohull sailboats. Held once every four years since 1988. The world’s most demanding race.

“A human being alone on his boat fighting his demons. In a psychological sense, this is what single handed yacht racing is all about,” says fellow skipper Jean-Pierre Dick.

Excuse me?

Sail boat seems such an inadequate term for these ships. Rocket ships with rudders? A Brahma bull with sails? In the entire universe of sailing, thirty skippers will qualify. Who, you wonder, would spend years scouring the world for sponsors and organizing a program and finding the right boat? Who would want to push that sailboat to its breaking point 24 hours a day for over 2400 hours?

And simply, Why?

Sift out the details and the answer is the same for all of them. To slake a smoldering unquenchable need to press themselves past the edges of their limits. To match their tiny ships and tiny bodies against the four oceans of the earth and fury they represent. To answer the call of their dreams. To know that they will never be the same. To feel the adrenaline of living with fear for months on end. To live in the aquatic crease between life and death.

They are not doing this to win anything. They’re doing this because they could not survive on this earth if they did not try.

One man in America has qualified for the race that departs from Les Sables d’Orlonne on November 9^th. Rich Wilson of Marblehead, MA. He’s been at home on the water since he was kid. If you merged John Dewey with Sir Francis Chichester, you’d end up with Rich Wilson, educator and adventurer.

Of course there’s a back story. His sailing pedigree began as a a one year old with asthma,a kid who couldn’t run across the play ground without running out of breath, to a man who ran the Boston Marathon with an inhaler that he rarely used tucked in his shorts. He will connect with school age kids around the world onlinef as he sails around the world. As fast as he can. Against other skippers. For months.

And connect with school kids across the globe while he’s at it.

https://whalingmuseumblog.org/2012/04/11/rich-wilson-recounts-near-disaster-in-the-vendee-globe-race/

He happens to be a friend of mine and a man I respect deeply.

When you get an invitation to be a guest to watch him sail to the starting line, you drop everything and go.

Rich Wilson, Vendée Globe 2008, Perspective

October 3, 2008

Imagine my surprise when after dialing a 978 xxx-xxxx to confirm where to send my check I got the skipper on the line all the way from Les Sables d'Olonne, France.

The cultural divide between the USA and Europe has always been deep, hasn’t it. If a French president had an affair with a young woman, he would have been laughed at by the press but not charged with an impeachable offense. Just look at our entertainment... we’re a country of winners and losers: American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Survivor. So of course the American press asks you, "Are you going to win?"

It’s a sloppy low denominator journalism question, unless it sets the stage for a reporter to ask you a deeper question like, "What drives you to do this when the odds are clearly not in your favor?"

The French/European press reporters, you say, get it. Unlike USA, bordered by two oceans and countries we don’t embrace heartily, their borders are contiguous, most can speak the languages of their neighbors, they were multi cultural before we invented the term. They know their history, their geography, and the power and draw of the seas and oceans that mark their perimeters.

They understand the gravity of the challenge, and instinctively wonder not so much about the result but the mindset of a man who would undertake it. Especially with an 8 year old boat managed by a grey haired adventurer who’s proven his mettle and resourcefulness on the high seas for over thirty years.

To the Europeans, you’ve won something important just by being able to put together a team, and qualify a boat and yourself for the most grueling sail race on the planet. Are you going to win? What a lame question. When you pass through the head of a needle and quality and pit yourself against 20 other entrants that are 40 % larger equipped and captains young enough to be your son, that’s the only question the American press can dream up? The Europeans look at you and think, bravo, you’ve won something already. They understand that the world is full of dreamers. They genuflect to a man who dreams then dares, then does.

Rich had childhood asthma and has been treating it for over fifty years. It didn’t stop him from running up and down the steep steps at Harvard Stadium about a millioin times to train to build endurance for previous races. Part of his spiel to school groups is his no nonsense approach to his lung condition. Know your body and take care of it.

A chronic condition doesn’t mean you can't do anything to realize big dreams. It means you have to work harder have more discipline and find the outer edges of your willpower and to find your limits. Being a businessman, Wilson uses his health deficit as a trump card, puts victimhood on its ear by using his asthma as an asset. He convinced Novartis, the multi national drug company, to sponsor him. When they invited pulmonary cardiologists from Europe to see proof of how a good drug can impact someone’s life, Wilson dusted off the French he learned in high school, and addressed them in their common language.

Does this not cement in your brain that the man is driven, hard wired to take what it takes to succeed? I could tell you stories of how he’s eased himself over the side of his boat to replaced a broken rudder in the middle of the rolling Atlantic, or hauled himself to the to top of a pitching mast to repair rigging.

With uncommon clarity, he sits down in his tiny nav station and emails a pithy Captain’s Log to school kids and supporters around the world. His electronic post cards are observant, philosophical, engaging. They resonate with fourth graders and adults whom he’s taking along for the ride.

When a press conference was held in Paris introducing the skippers date? 500-700 reporters from around the world showed up. When a world class fleet of sailed into Boston after the prestigious  race, the only people at the docks were family, friends, and anyone who happened to be there by mistake. Never mind that the rigors of the race physical, mental, psychological strength these guys displayed by qualifying, let alone finishing the race, were Olympian. Being the guy he is, he shrugs it off. But it hurts, not ego hurt but value hurt.

There are lessons to be learned by men and women like Rich Wilson.

Obama tide reaches shores of France

November 3, 2009, Paris, en route to see the start of the 2008 Vendée Globe Round the World Sailing Race in Les Sables d’Olonne…you didn’t have to read an opinion poll to feel France’s enthusiasm for the candidacy of Barack Obama.

The Metro was plastered with photos of Obama as I made my way to make the train connection from Paris to Les Sables d’Olonne.

 

November 4th, news of his victory splashed across the plasma TVs set up in the Vendée Globe press room in Les Sables d’Olonne…
 

and again in the Metro when I returned to Paris on November 10...

and on billboards the Charles de Gaulle Airport on my return to the States on November 12th.

Of the thirty sleek Open 60 monohulls tied to the race dock, Rich Wilson’s Great American III was the only American entry here. Being the sole American presence, Rich and the Americans with him were swept along on Obama’s coattails. We were a tiny nautical delegation entrusted to receive congratulations on the wisdom of electing our new leader.

My best memory is from the misty morning of November 4th. The news of Obama’s election was the buzz. The French feel Obama will respect Europe and in general and France in particular. They are hungry for a sense of positive leadership from our side of the pond.

“Obama, c’est bon, c’est trés bon!”  A ruddy-cheeked woman had planted herself a few feet from Great American’s stern. She enthusiastically saluted us Americans gathered in Great American III's cockpit with a mittened thumbs up.

For a moment, the world felt a lot smaller - and more friendly.