Vendée Arctique, my first time, my own way
© Julien Champolion - polaRYSE / 11th Hour Racing
From Frankie,
Vendée Arctique, my first time, my own way
The thing that hits you first when you're solo is that there's no-one to turn to. No tactician, no navigator, no second opinion. Every weather file, every routing choice, every sail change is on you. And while I'd been part of crews before, this was different. In a crewed race, other people always carried the biggest decisions. Now, I have to carry them all.
It's a lot of load, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. You're managing the boat, you're spending hours at the computer reading the weather, you're making calls you can't un-make. But that's also exactly why I wanted to do this.
Honestly, some things that I thought would be tough were less hard than I expected, and some I thought would be easy were far from it.
For example, I thought 30-plus knots and four-meter waves would feel overwhelming. Maybe even scary. But because I was prepared, because I'd anticipated it, it felt ... manageable. Not easy, and still kind of crazy! But not overwhelming. That was a big moment for me; real confidence boost.
And then on the other end of the spectrum, managing myself wasn't easy. I got 45-minute stretches in the bunk a few times, and honestly they felt like gifts. But I never felt comfortable enough to fully let go, because out there it's a dog fight. You close your eyes for 45 minutes, the boat's not at 100%, and you're four miles behind. And you look at the tracker and think - when are the others sleeping? When are they stopping?
The last 24-hours were maybe the toughest for that. Not because of the conditions offshore - it's actually close to land that scares me. Foiling at 28 knots [51,9 km/h / 32,2 mph] with fishing boats all around you, green dots everywhere on the chart, nowhere to go. I was screaming to myself at one point! And that's the kind of thing you don't really train for.
And on top of that … I was also seasick on day two. Not great. Food that had just gone straight in, came straight out again … and I had to go dig through the bags to find foods that I could gently stomach, and try to recover. And recovery is a lot harder when you can't eat. But I got through it. (Louise, our team logistics and circularity manager, will be happy to know the freeze-dried meals are mostly gone.)
Strategically, I got some things wrong. That's just the truth of it. The one I'll carry the longest is about commitment, there were three moments in this race where I had a plan and didn't stick to it. One of those calls turned out right: going west of Ireland. But I made that decision way later than I should have. I could have committed to it when I was already near Iceland and saved myself a lot of stress. Instead, I was routing around forbidden zones at the last minute. That's the kind of mistake that can cost you a lot in this class.
There are no handbrake moments in IMOCA. You either push or you fall back - it's that simple. And learning when to push, when to slow down, and how to make a strategic call and hold it, that's what I'm taking into the next race.
But this race was also a big moment for me and the team. Being in Les Sables d'Olonne, where the Vendée Globe will start in two and a half years, was super intimidating (even if I forced myself not to think about it too much). I wasn't sure what to expect, but what I found was something I've never experienced before. People in the channel cheering you on. People in the village who know your boat, know your story, know your results. That doesn't happen anywhere else in the world, and it's something super special.
And with the other skippers, we race hard against each other on the water, and then we look out for each other. We text, we check in while racing. It's a real community. With this race, I started to feel part of it, and that means a lot.
I’ve come back with a lot of miles in my head, a few mistakes I hope I won’t make again, and a real sense that I can race this boat. That I belong out there. This race was a lot of things at once: a huge learning curve, a confidence boost, a humbling experience, and one of the most intense weeks of my life.
Andiamo!