[Sung, melodic vocals only] Luckily, the master of the helm roars firmly to hold our course, Hold on! Here we go, he's at it again! So, on reflex, I close my eyes, stretch out my arms, Wonder Woman style, and absorb the impact instead of the floats, which spin round and dodge the immaculate hull by a whisker. I open wonder-struck eyes, nose pressed to the hull, which, close up, looks like the starry universe! Beginner's luck! We are protected by the Immaculate Conception! Thank you, Mary, full of grace and glitter, protector of sailors! The harbour bloke arrives in a Zodiac and calls out to us, Right, you clowns, we'll tow you. The Viking catches the mooring line in mid-air and, as soon as he catches the wind, lets go of the rope and starts manoeuvring at lightning speed, then drops me off on the quay in a flash. Wait here! Is it over already? Or… did I not get the concept? And off he goes straight away to test his boat in the harbour, before heading out to sea. I watch him pull off his insane manoeuvres with unsuspected grace! A hundred-and-eighty-degree turns, perfect wind catches, feline glides balanced on a single float… The boat creaks, but holds. It's at that precise moment that I realise he was born on a longship! Child of the sea, a sailor at heart, he talks to the wind and tames the waves. He's-a-pro! He comes back for me and smiles with the nonchalance of an old ocean hand, delighted to have been able to play with his new two-hulled longship, while the mistral blows a hooley. I look at him open-mouthed, ready for him to sign me an autograph. Completely reassured, I put myself blindly in the hands of my Nordic Tabarly, who's really starting to look like my nomadic dream. My romantic heart starts beating again… We leave the harbour… And then, all of a sudden: mistral at full blast! The boat flies, literally! No harness, clinging to a trapeze rope, we're hanging by our destiny! We glide. We laugh. We scream… Eu-pho-ric! Yes! This is life! Yes! No brakes? Time suspended. A hundred per cent adrenaline. Total buzz! The waves, the wind, life! It whips, it soaks, it's exhilarating! I a-dore it! This is adventure! My heart races, joy floods over me, I feel… free! My skipper from the Far North is in his element. The sea air suits him so well. He smiles at me and kisses me passionately. Mamma mia, how I love that taste of iodine! I'm living my dream! I fall in love on the spot. No romantic film comes close to my happiness! Nobody at sea is more of a wobbly jelly than me. The corsair looks smitten, unbelievable! So proud! Luckily, at this speed, nobody notices a thing. From a distance, the hobbit-cat looks like a white flash, passing back and forth, tilted on a single float, with two counterweights in a precarious balance, taking off at every wave. We're having an ab-so-lute blast! After an hour of speed, storm warning. The weather turns, the rain stings us. Soaked and supercharged, we're starting to get cold. Ok. We go back. No room in the harbour. No rope. No plan. The pilgrims of the high seas, who have braved the oceans, come back ashore soaking wet! We end up three of us on the beach, with a local bloke, pushing this blasted cat up the sand. Light as a two-hundred-and-fifty-kilo seagull, it wants to head back out to sea. It's made for speed, for races, for regattas. At a standstill, it's nothing but an empty shell, tossed about by the wind. If the waves push it too hard, it'll smash to pieces! The sheet has snapped, the sail flaps and whips the air with a sharp, repetitive crack, like a flag snapping. The Nordic colossus struggles not to get slapped forehand and backhand and lose control of the vessel. Swept by thirty-knot gusts, the sail rebels and slips through his hands. But Odin's heir is more stubborn than it is and clamps it in his pincers to replace the sheet before cata-strophe strikes. Meanwhile, the local bloke and I hold the boat steady as the waves shake it. He looks like he knows what he's doing. So I do the same. In the end, nothing resists the strength of the Viking. He jumps into the water and, all three of us, we push with all our might, fighting the current, to get the boat back up the beach. Exhausted, soaked, out of breath, the hobbit-cat is saved without a scratch! The skipper of the Intrepid Breakwaters l
