As a true pilot of the deep range Bernard Moitessier was a philosopher sailor who famously went round the world again in 1969 in the Sunday Time Golden Globe race when he could possibly have beaten Sir Robin Knox-Johnston sailing Suhaili. Moitessier’s writings are full of insight and honesty about the life of a small boat sailor, especially a solo sailor and in The Long Way – his tale of the race itself, he describes knockdowns and gear failure with a metaphoric shrug of the shoulders, accepting that he was partly at fault and moving quickly on. Making his way north after rounding Cape Horn he decides to abandon the race and go round the world a second time, turning south and east to go around the Cape of Good Hope again. He ended up sailing two-thirds of the globe a second time, most of it way down south in the windiest zone on earth – the Roaring Forties. He sailed 37,455 nautical miles in 10 months, creating a new record for the longest non-stop passage by small boat. He was getting ready for the Horn again when he decided to leave the sea and sail to Tahiti where he arrived in June 1969.
The Long Way became an instant classic of sailing and the second video below, here, is an inspiring film of the man and his mission for peace.
He remained in the Pacific for 17 years, starting a new family and continuing to cruise the south seas. He came back to France at last and died in 1994.
This first clip of Moitessier is from the brilliant Deep Water film covering Donald Crowhurst’s fateful participation in the Golden Globe race.
This video by Cultura Marinara has more from Moitessier himself and his spiritual take on sailing… and how his famous “round again” voyage made him: “a mystical sailor”. It’s in French so underneath there is an English translation…
This is quite long, writes Dan Houston, so please forgive any errors; I did this myself. I became a fan of Moitessier in my teens and The Long Way is a must-read.
While it is tricky to read this and watch at the same time, opening a second window on your screen and then reading it alongside as it were, might be the way to go…
“Right, let’s get started. First, we fill the bottle. See, it’s brilliant, isn’t it? I made this one myself. I made the chain from a bit of wire, a bit of stainless-steel wire, you see, with a pair of pliers, click-clack, you make yourself a chain then you add a little hook here, so it fits all sizes of pan, you know? Here I am, it won’t fit anymore, er, it’s, well, it dates from The Long Way since I had this, I had this on board. Of course, plus a bit of gas. Well, it allowed me to eat for 10 months, no problem.”
Ten months: 10 months at sea and in solitude. Bernard Moitessier is the hero of an unprecedented maritime feat that will remain legendary. It was 25 years ago, on 22 August 1968 in Plymouth, in the south of England, he set sail on the first solo, non-stop round-the-world race.
But for this exceptional sailor, as the days go by and the miles pile up, the competition would fade and become an inner adventure. Aboard his boat, Joshua, he would stray from the charted routes and choose freedom. This is the story of The Long Way he would recount in one of the finest seafaring books ever written – by a sailor, a sailor who has already sailed the length and breadth of every ocean on the planet but who still thirsts – thirsts for wide open spaces, thirsts for solitude – a sailor who is a true bird of the sea.
“I had such a need to rediscover the breath of the open sea; there were only Joshua and me in the world; the rest did not exist, had never existed; you don’t ask a seagull with a thirst for the sea, why she feels the need to disappear from time to time out to the open sea.
“She’s just going there, that’s all. And it’s as simple as a ray of sunshine, as natural as the blue of the sky.
“And that’s the ditty box right there; I’ve had it for 30 years – or 32, or 33, I don’t know – it’s been on all of Joshua’s journeys; it’s well-equipped, I’ve got everything in there, including the sail maker’s palm.
“So, I lived in Asia for 27 years. I was born there, and I left when I was 27. My second mother was Chinese – she was my nanny who’d known me since birth. She was still at home when I left, you see, and she was the one who raised all my brothers and sisters.”
[Music]
At that time, Vietnam was called Indochina. Bernard, born in Saigon in 1925, coming from a family of children who spent their time between the large family home, school, the swimming pool and escapades in the street. It was as newlyweds that his parents came from France to settle in Saigon, where his father took over an hotel. But Bernard’s childhood also meant holidays in a village on the shores of the Gulf of Siam. There, he learnt to live freely and discovered the sea, the fishermen and their junks, and his first sailing trips. His father dreamed of turning him into a businessman.
But Bernard was just dreaming of the ocean and hates school: “I was rubbish, yes, I was a dunce, a real dunce, a complete dunce. Now where did I put my knife? Have you seen my knife? Oh, here it is. Yes I was rubbish; I was useless – useless at everything, except a little bit of chemistry, because it interested me, because I could have fun making explosive firecrackers with potassium chlorate. But, well, in the end I was useless.”
[Music]
The days follow one another, never monotonous; even when they may seem exactly the same, they are never quite so. And that is what gives life at sea that touch of contemplation and simplicity.
‘It’s been nearly four months since we left Plymouth. I knew my journey would take me far, but I couldn’t have known it might go even further, amongst the intangible landmarks of the sea and the weather.’
[Music]
“The staysail! Hey the staysail? Well set?”
“Fine, spot on.”
“OK, we’ll see.”
“Bernard!”
“Yes?” INDECIPHERABLE.
“Yeah, yeah, OK.”
Bernard has never been able to live without a boat, and today, at 68, he still lives aboard his yacht with his partner Véronique, but gone are the days of long voyages across the lonely oceans.
The time has now come for carefree sailing through the most beautiful lagoons of Polynesia – which has become his adopted home, as here on the small island of island of Taha in the heart of the Society Islands archipelago. A simple, almost ascetic life in harmony with nature, offering Bernard what he had always needed – to experience freedom and peace – which became his most precious possessions on the day those childhood games were brutally interrupted by war. “The Indochina War was a war of independence. I wanted to join them because they were fed up with seeing our government, that’s all.
“And then, if I’d been Vietnamese, I’d obviously have been on their side. Obviously. And me, as a Frenchman, er, born in Indochina, having lived my whole, my entire life there, I also considered it my country; that shouldn’t have kicked me out; that we had to live together – that we had to figure out how to live together in harmony. But it was difficult, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“Let go, let go, let go, right, right, yeah.”
Bernard Moitessier will remain deeply traumatised by the Indochina War. He discovers intolerance, violence and death, which he hates. It’s a painful, life-changing experience that will shape the rest of his life. The Long Way was no doubt born at that moment in the mind of a young man who had to leave his country for good.
“When peace came, it was immense freedom; the whole world was open to me. So there were two ways: either you could grab your rucksack… but then there’s constant trouble at the border and then you don’t know, you never know where you’re going to end up, you know, what you’re going to eat? And then there’s a boat – plus, sailing was already a passion, you know, the boat? Well, you’ve got your little shell with you, you see, go wherever you want… With your books, everything that makes up your life, basically.”
[Music]
‘This was the first time I felt such peace within me. For this peace has become a certainty, something that cannot be explained… like faith.
‘I know I will succeed, and I find this absolute certainty utterly natural, where there is neither fear nor pride nor astonishment. The whole sea simply sings in an octave I have not yet known, and it fills me with what is both the question and the answer.’
[Music]
“Here’s a little tip: never walk under a coconut tree directly beneath the coconuts…
“You see?! You have to make them spin, make it come down in a T-shape so that it lands on its tip; at that moment, it doesn’t just land on sand, but on something like that – if you drop it any old way, it might not float.
“It’s the whole of life I contemplate: the sun, the clouds, the sea. Time passing and I want to stay here. I can also feel, at times, that other world – the one where I am now a stranger – which I left centuries ago. That’s the modern, artificial world where man has been turned into a money-making machine to satisfy false needs and false joys. Seated below in the pilotage chair, looking through the portholes of the dome that shields me from storms, I watch the heavy ships as they come close passing me by.
“I have almost reached the turning point on my journey; I have known since the Indian Ocean that I no longer wish to return.
“Back there, well, there’s a big crowd in the bar; I know I don’t want to go back there.”
For the first time, Bernard Moitessier alludes to an idea that’s been on his mind for a while: not returning to Europe, which means pulling out of the race. Yet he is the favourite, given his preparation and experience. It should be said that since his departure from Indochina in 1952, Bernard has stopped sailing on all sorts of boats, but this race – the solo non-stop round-the-world race – is on a different scale. It is the ultimate race, a true rite of passage. On 5 February 1969, Bernard Moitessier rounded Cape Horn.
“Memories of my childhood come flooding back in a warm wave; I gently push them away – this is not the time – but they return and only drift away gently when I tell them to leave me alone with Cape Horn. But tonight they return again to caress me with infinite tenderness: the long walks through the forests of Indochina with my brothers in search of wild honey, the bee stings, the stone-throwing games, paddling in the Gulf of Siam in our slender canoes.
“It is strange, this sky of Indochina and that of the Horn, so close they could almost touch.”
Bernard Moitessier’s life today in Polynesia is also one of encounters and friendship, for whilst he loves solitude at sea, once ashore he needs the warmth of others; he needs to share with them his experiences, his emotions, his convictions – quite simply, his life.
He will inspire many to follow wake of Joshua; he will inspire many to follow his example. For the rest of his story takes us off the beaten track, away from the marked paths.
“It’s lovely to see your trees; you see, when we come back after a while, we can see that they’ve grown, that they’ve flourished, that there are fruits beginning to… look there are loads of fruits on your lemon tree; there weren’t any earlier. Your mango tree over – that’s definitely a mango tree, isn’t it..?”
“Yes, yes, yes, it’s produced its first three fruits this year.”
“Brilliant! That’s a grafted one you’ve got, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s grafted.”
“Ah you’ve done it straight away.”
Moitessier could have remained just a fine sailor, but the decision that he made one day, alone aboard the Joshua, will turn him into a legendary sailor. After rounding the Cape Horn, he should have headed north to reach England and cross the finish line. But no, he chose to continue straight east and embark on a second circumnavigation of the globe – a mad act, but will anyone in the world understand him?
[Music]
“I don’t know how to explain to everyone my need to keep heading towards the Pacific; they won’t understand. I know I’m right; I can feel it deep down. I know exactly where I’m going, even if I can’t explain it. How could they possibly grasp that? Of course it’s quite simple, but it can’t be explained in words; it would be utterly pointless to try. How can I tell them that the sounds of the water, the sound of silence and the bubbling sea foam are like the sounds of wind over rock? They’ve helped me find my way.
“How can I tell them all these things that have no name? Tell them that they’re leading me towards the true land. To tell them without making them afraid, without them thinking I’ve gone mad.”
And it is with astonishment that, in Europe, we learn of Bernard Moitessier’s decision whilst he is leading the round-the-world race: he renounces honours, glory and money. His refusal to return to the West and its civilisation makes some journalists believe that Moitessier has been overcome by a dangerous drug – the solitude at sea and the resulting alienation of the self. Others hail him as a free man, simply happy to be at sea and who has found his inner peace; he thus gives his act a philosophical significance. It is true that Bernard’s long intimacy with the ocean, the sky and the stars hasn’t just transformed his outlook on life. It has transformed his life.
[Music]
“The day when people finally realise that the very first task we must set ourselves is that of peace – simply to stop fighting amongst ourselves, that is all. From that moment on, it will be possible to start rebuilding something beautiful, a more humane world, maybe.
“In any case, the choice lies in the hands of humanity. A few million years ago, well, the, the ape reached a stage called the stage of reflection – something Teilhard de Chardin calls the stage of reflection – suddenly, BOOM, he had a flash of genius. Well, a branch of apes, a branch of macaques of which we are a part… He realised that he understood – well, he could understand. And now he must take the second step, after several million years of absurdities. For me, this is the step I would call the ‘step of intelligence’ – but the intelligence of the heart, mind you, not ‘Intelligence’ with a capital I. And there you have it, that’s all. It’s not complicated!”
[Music]
70,000 km alone without touching land; the voyage of The Long Way came to an end on June 21st 1969. After 10 months at sea, Bernard Moitessier arrived in Tahiti, much like an alien.
A few curious onlookers, a few friends, plenty of silence too, and emotion. For the first time in 10 months, Joshua is motionless and he is silent as well. On board, Bernard Moitessier has just achieved the most incredible feat in solo sailing, even though he came here simply to find the island of his dreams.
[Music]
Making a multi barbed fishing spear. Indecipherable.
“It’s this, like this which results in good food. And this is a lot more simple. It’s really nice to be able to eat fish you’ve caught yourself – it’s really brilliant.”
In the Pacific Islands, Bernard Moitessier seems to have found his paradise; Europe is well and truly behind him. In Tuamotu, he integrates into Polynesian society and adopts their way of life — a rustic life without pretence. He divides his time between farming, fishing and writing. And he becomes a passionate advocate for nature. In Paris, some look askance at this sailor-turned-hippie.
Bernard, for his part, allows himself a few escapades, as if to check that he is indeed on the right path: Israel, New Zealand, and with Joshua, to California and Mexico.
It was there that a terrible ordeal awaited him, falling from the sky. In December 1982: a storm of unprecedented violence hurled his boat onto the shore at dawn.
“At dawn, this beautiful beach at Cabo San Lucas, with its soft sand the day before, was a cemetery watered with our tears, a cemetery where the monstrous breakers moored – 25 boats massacred in the night, no forgiveness, the hulls smashed as far as the eye could see.
“Joshua, dismasted, is filled with sand, gravel and horror, and me, shattered, my eyes lifeless, wandering along this shore like the ghost of my boat; we were both dead.”
Bernard is giving orders aboard his boat, making ready for sea.
Above all, this ordeal will not be in vain, for the boat and the sailor will rise again. Joshua will be saved by lovers of The Long Way. And as for Bernard, a global movement of solidarity will be created around him, for all who love the sea feel they owe him something.
The result was this boat, which he named Tamata – and why not? In Polynesian, to this name he added a Chinese character that cannot be translated into French.
“For the Chinese, the same word covers both mind – or intelligence, if you like – and the heart; it’s the same thing. Mind and heart are one and the same. For them, it’s the same; If there’s a heart, there must be mind. I think it’s a symbolic choice for them.”
I find that today it is Bernard who is a symbol, very much a living symbol – of an uncompromising existence devoted to the quest for truth – that truth which lay at the end of The Long Way.
“He sailed around the world, but what is a voyage round the world, since the horizon is eternal? A voyage round the world goes further than the ends of the earth, as far as life itself, and even further still. Perhaps when we catch a glimpse of that, we feel a little dizzy, we feel a little afraid, and at the same time, what we glimpse there is so, so… I don’t know; further than the ends of the earth.”
©Dan Houston
