With Georges Pernoud I discovered Moitessier, Tabarly, Chichester and Knox-Johnston. I discovered the Golden Globe and the tragedy of Crowhurst, I followed the Route du Rhum races and the wonderful victories of Poupon, Arthaud and Bourgnon. The incredible feats of the Vendée Globe, the other races like the Solitaire du Figaro, the Route du Café, and of course the mythical America’s Cup, and its defenders and challengers.
With Georges Pernoud, I went to the sea every Friday, in wonderful company, for close to twenty years. This weekly appointment was as important as the one with Cousteau on Sundays.
Georges Pernoud brought into our homes his love for everything blue. Bluewater adventures, shindigs in the shallows, life on the shore, everything related to the oceans and the humans who lived in and around it.
With Georges Pernoud, my horizons would maybe not be as wide and full of wonders. Maybe I wouldn’t be thinking about casting off on my own boat, following the footsteps of all these marvelous fools who unfurled their sails to check out what lies beyond the line where the water and the sky meet.
Some departures, alas, have no return. Bernard Moitessier, Eric Tabarly, Gerry Roufs, Florence Arthaud. And today…
Some departures, framed as they are into memories and emotions, stir in us, as Saint-Exupéry said, a newfound, bitter feeling, the secret regret that we are getting older
Oh Captain, bon vent to you for the final time, and thank you, so, so much, for “Thalassa” and the wonderful hours that you gave us for over four decades. You will be very, dearly missed.
