“We’re going fast, we’re at the south of Ireland. We’re going up to 51 North then heading down to Ushant. We’ve got a gennaker, we’re sliding along well, it’s all fine, the boat is between 23, 25, 27 knots. We’re taking a long route. Going straight there’d be 1329 miles left, and we’re going to do around 1500. (…) We’re glad to be going back. … There’re people around, there aren’t any problems maneuvering there, on shift or off shift, there’s electricity in the air here today, we feel like we’re being born again… We know that nothing’s won. … The gennakers are fine, thankfully – because if not, the only thing left would be to kill ourselves, on chestnut puree and Petits Lu cookies. You take a fifteen-kilo tin of chestnut puree, twelve boxes of nice dry Petits Lu cookies and you’re not allowed to drink. It’s a form of gastronomic suicide that’s quite common in sects from the Nantes region.”
