“A Thousand Miles, A Thousand Thoughts. I tell you about my ocean baptism

We had told you the story of Ambrogio Beccaria Balduzzi, the guy who wanted the Atlantic at all costs: he went to retrieve a smashed mini in Portugal and put it back together with his own hands, managing to win the Italian Mini Series title. His dream has finally come true: in anticipation of the 2017 Mini Transat, in which “Boggi” (that’s what his friends call him) will take part on his 6.50 Alla Grande Ambeco, won the qualification for the 6th edition of the 2016 Les Sables-Azores-Les Sables, a 2,540-mile solo race reserved only for monotypes of this class. Departing June 7 from Lorient, Brittany, Ambrose had to travel an impressive 1,000 nautical miles solo on the Lorient-Ireland-Lorient route to qualify. What we publish is the exciting account of the adventure Beccaria wrote for us.

“A THOUSAND MILES, A THOUSAND THOUGHTS”
It is dawn on June 15 and I have just arrived in Lorient after 7 days and 16 hours of sailing. I expected to collapse with exhaustion; I have slept little and worked a lot these days. Instead, before the joy and satisfaction of having made it, a strange feeling peeps out-I am dazed, I need to sort out the ideas, to think back over each of these thousand miles so that I can treasure them. And so, with my head whirring with thoughts, I begin to get the boat in order. First, I roll up the mainsail…. I hoisted it up on the morning of June 7 to leave the port of Lorient and begin this great adventure. And as the halyard flowed through my hands I thought of the joy of finally being at sea, I felt good, I had left my anxieties ashore and with me was left only the excitement and the desire to face these miles solo. The days before had not been easy: there were so many things to prepare, and for every small problem I solved a couple of worries knocked at the door. But underneath I was aware that it would be enough to let go of the moorings to find courage, and so it was. The first hundred miles passed under the hull of Alla Grande Ambeco with such ease that I thought it would be almost boring to make another nine hundred.

“IT’S JUST LIKE CROSSING THE STREET.”
But just as I was processing this thought, the wind dropped, a thick fog began to build on the water’s surface, and the instrument indicating the presence of other boats began to play wildly. I was about to cross the ship channel that is on the northern tip of Brittany, the first major cliff of this qualification. Immediately I was reminded of the advice of Ian Lipinski, former owner of my boat and winner of the 2015 MiniTransat:“It’s just like crossing the street,” he had chuckled to me, “first you look left thenright .

The problem was that I didn’t feel as comfortable as I do when I have to cross the street, I rather had the feeling of crossing Piazzale Loreto at six in the morning, on one of those classic Milanese mornings when you can’t see an inch from your nose. Fortunately, I was focused enough on the ships not to look at the clock, and by dawn the next day the discomfort was over. I found myself in the middle of the English Channel, warmed by pleasant sunshine (don’t imagine who knows what, I was in Brittany anyway!) and buoyed by a light crosswind that allowed me to grind some miles toward the Celtic Sea.

“I DID THE CROSSWORD PUZZLE.”
The climb north I expected it to be cold and complicated, but instead I was slowly beginning to get into a shipboard rhythm. The days happened quietly, there was little wind, I ate and slept…. I even did the crossword puzzle! Of course, I also occasionally had to adjust a sail, but working for the boat did not tire me at all, in fact it had finally become part of the routine of going to sea. And so, between a pod of dolphins and a chapter in the book, between a sail change and a cous cous I arrived in Ireland, at Conin Beg, the northernmost buoy of the course.

SAILING SOUTH
Putting the bow back to the south was a great thrill: After 400 miles I was finally getting closer to home. And the wind made this descent fast and fun: as predicted, the West began to strengthen, and after hoisting the small gennaker I took the helm of my dinghy to enjoy the Atlantic surf I had not yet experienced. “Ça glisse,” as the French say, slip. And just like that, propelled by the long ocean waves, Alla Grande Ambeco seemed to glide over the sea effortlessly. We came close to 200 miles in one day-our record!

THE HARDEST CLIFF
On the sixth day of sailing I turned Rochebonne, a shoal in the middle of Biscay where the bottom from three thousand meters changes to forty. At this point the last buoy of the course was missing: Ile de Ré. Very experienced navigators had advised me to get there rested; it is a difficult passage and the feeling of being close to home often fools you. Fortunately, I took their advice: 30 miles from the buoy the wind began to strengthen, gusting to 40 knots. With three hands to the mainsail and storming I approached at 12 knots what I now understood would be the most challenging passage of the qualification. In fact, once you pass under the bridge that connects the island to the mainland, to regain the offshore I had to tack for more than 15 miles in a place that felt like hell at the time. The bottom was around three meters, and on the biggest waves I was holding my breath hoping not to run aground. Although I had little canvas, the most violent gusts would knock me out. To make matters worse, I was upwind. Several times I was tempted to stop in La Rochelle to let the worst of it pass and leave again the next morning . But eventually, mile after mile, the boat took me farther and farther from that nightmarish place and I, tired and angry, obeyed its commands. At that point I just had to grit my teeth, I had 150 miles to go, which due to rumples and wind holes definitely did not go by as fast as I had hoped.

Finally, as the eighth day dawned, the fishing boats were beginning to get more and more I realized that home was now just a stone’s throw away. At six o’clock in the morning, exhausted and happy, I entered the port of Lorient.

After all this thinking and rethinking Alla Grande Ambeco is now in order and I, more of a sailor than I was a week ago, am ready for my first solo ocean race. In fact, these 1,000 miles around the Atlantic have served to complete my qualification for Les Sables – Les Açores – Les Sables, a regatta in which I will participate this July, and for next year’s MiniTransat.

See you again on the next adventure,

Ambrose