Sailing 2026 — Raphaël Kanapitsas

← Notebooks Sailing 2026 Douarnenez → Douarnenez · 316 nm · 2 nights at sea · 7 days

It should have been a rally to England. Crossing the Channel turned out to be awkward, everyone went their own way, and we headed south instead: Ouessant, a night at sea down to Houat, Belle-Île, then two days and a night back up to the Île de Sein, and home across the Baie de Douarnenez. Seven days, 316 nautical miles, our boat, Diego, and three people aboard: Anne as skipper, Léa and me as crew.

It was my first night passage and my first watches. I learn that you can wake at 4 am, get dressed at 45 degrees of heel, and find it good. I learn the rhythm too: slow time, the meals cooked out of sync, the twenty minutes to yourself before sleeping. I love the travelling side of it enormously: slow, and connected to the real.

J0 Sat 25 April

Douarnenez → Saint-Hernot

In Douarnenez, we meet at 10:30 am to get to know each other. Anne, the skipper, says it straight: if we want to cross to England it will be close-hauled the whole way, with hard watches. Option B is to head south, Belle-Île. I say England interests me more. Then six hours of preparation: the meals, the shopping, the market we give up on because it is so crowded, and stowing everything in the lockers. We leave the harbour at 5 pm, one long beat to Crozon, a few tacks, and we anchor at Saint-Hernot among other boats. Anchoring under sail. Next to us they are playing the accordion: it feels like a village, except we are at sea.

At night the neighbours party and pull me back awake every time I start to go under.

J1 Sun 26 April

Saint-Hernot → Ouessant, baie de Lampaul

55.2 nm

I open my eyes at 6:40 am with the daylight. Breakfast heated up in a saucepan: very good, very long to clean. I come up just in time to help get the anchor back.

A bit of wind as far as the Cap de la Chèvre, then flat calm, the real thing, to the point where we can no longer manoeuvre. We wait, we talk, we sit in the sun. Bread and hummus. After forty-five minutes on the forecast, Anne says the Channel is not on. I am disappointed, it is why I signed up. We fall back on Lanildut, which is shorter.

Then Le Conquet, and tacks that get us nowhere: the tide will not let us past La Vinotière. We try the east, without success, we cross back to the shallows on the west side. That works better, and the lights of La Vinotière finally drop out of sight. Relief. Anne tells me she wants to get to Ouessant anyway, and that gives me my energy back.

We pass south of Molène to be on the right side of the Fromveur. Ouessant takes a long time to take shape. Sunset, La Jument very close, then the arrival in the baie de Lampaul at night, scanning the anchorage with a head torch. Three other boats. Pancakes for dinner.

J2 Mon 27 April

Ouessant, baie de Lampaul → At sea

57.1 nm night at sea

Straight through until 6:30 am, without waking once. I stretch it out to 8:15 am.

Briefing: north or south. We rule out north quickly because of the weather. I say that without an objective I will not find the motivation to stand night watches. Objective: Belle-Île, direct.

Barefoot walk to the café: it does me good to walk on solid ground, and the view over the baie de Lampaul is superb. NNE wind, perfect for running south; leaving mid-afternoon, we take the Raz de Sein with the tide. We split the watches: two hours each, turn and turn about, Anne on call for both of us.

We cook two meals at once, dhal and tortillas. I hurt my back getting the anchor up: the boat is pulling on it and it is very hard. Course 145°. There is a fair amount of sea and the waves roll us beam on. I watch birds dynamic-soaring in the troughs, a great deal more elegant than struggling along on the water. I am not complaining, but I would rather fly. I see the boat as a means more than an end.

Watch from 5 to 7 pm, on a beam reach at 7–8 knots as far as the Raz de Sein. I hand over just before and go and heat the dhal. With sardines and a bit of bread, in full sun, crossing the Raz: magnificent.

Watch from 9 to 11 pm, the sunset one. The moon, the stars, a calm sea. Anne tells us what to watch for: the pot buoys, the other boats, a fixed light for a vessel, a flashing light for a lighthouse or a beacon. Eckmühl is easy to pick out; for the rest it is flashing everywhere and I struggle to sort it out. I check the GPS anyway, so as not to sail into the mainland.

J3 Tue 28 April

At sea → Le Palais, Belle-Île

69.4 nm night at sea

Watch from 1 to 3 am. I sleep badly, my shoulder too compressed. Outside, the scenery has not moved: Eckmühl still there, and Penfret. I do not get the dolphins my crewmate got. A fishing boat holds a constant bearing for a long time, but our courses do not cross.

Watch from 5 to 7 am. The point of sail has changed, we are slamming upwind. Waking is hard, getting dressed harder still: I hold on at 45 degrees and hope not to be seasick. The moon is about to set and the first light is coming. I helm almost the whole time and this time I clip on. The wind builds to 23 knots; I try to sheet in the headsail and manage only a few turns of the winch handle. I am cold, but staying focused helps.

Watch from 9 to 11 am, and I really do not want to get up. We are coming in between Quiberon and Belle-Île, there is navigation to do, and my brain is running at 50 %: I know what I have to do, but the cogs will not turn. Anne being there saves us. We bear away, drop the headsail, my crotch strap catches on everything lying around, I fight with the sail ties and get the anchor down painfully. But in the end we are cleanly anchored off Houat. Every other boat at anchor leaves — and customs arrive, and check us. Léa wakes up in a new place with customs aboard, visibly surprised.

The plan was to stay at Houat, then go into the harbour at Quiberon. I suggest Belle-Île again, and it goes through. In the afternoon, a short downwind leg, calm sea, sun. We drop sail and queue for the lock, which opens exactly as we arrive. The girls rest; all I want to do is walk. I go up towards the pointe de Taillefer, then on to Port-Fouquet, and hitchhike back. In the evening, the hunt for showers near the bus station: the code does not work, I climb over, and there is a sign on the door barring entry because there is no water. There is water. It is hot. Clean at last.

J4 Wed 29 April

Le Palais, Belle-Île → At sea

30.9 nm night at sea

Awake at 9:20 am, in the quiet and the absence of movement. Bakery for pains au chocolat, then a coffee behind the picture window of the big hotel: there is wind and roadworks outside, and the view is excellent.

Weather briefing. Anne suggests aiming for an anchorage at Sein rather than the harbour at Lesconil, depending on whether the swell makes it uncomfortable. We look into Groix, but that would make today’s leg very short and leave too little wind tomorrow. We keep going island to island — and that way we get a whole day at Sein.

We stow everything and, at the planned time, every boat leaves the harbour. The exit is very stylish, people watch us from the footbridge. Outside, there is not that much wind: ten minutes on the engine, then I suggest setting the asymmetric spinnaker. Once the kite is trimmed there is nothing left to do — so it is time for a game of cards.

I finally make myself a decaf with the Nanopresso. I was afraid of being seasick down below, and I am not at all. The wind drops, we are down to 2 knots or less; I take a bearing to fix our position relative to Groix.

For dinner I cook three-rice with the last of the dhal. We all eat outside as night falls.

Watch from 11 pm to 1 am. Nothing like the first night: flat sea, downwind under spinnaker, mild. We are drifting northwest when we want to pass south of the Glénan, and closing the coast; I suggest a jibe to Anne, who joins me ten minutes later. Then the calm comes back and the boom slams with the roll, the sound of hell and decay, to the point where I take the shock in my hand. Around 12:25 am the wind returns, gently.

J5 Thu 30 April

At sea → Île de Sein

64.6 nm night at sea

We decided on three-hour watches in the middle of the night. I sleep genuinely well until 3:20 am, when I hear talk of a jibe. A natural waking, so not groggy at all.

The wind is back, we are doing 6–7 knots, still under spinnaker, course 285°, Eckmühl in sight. Flat sea, a rising moon, a bit of bread with tarama: a dream night watch. At 5:58 am, on my way below, Anne asks whether I eased the spinnaker and whether I properly looked at the tides in the Baie d’Audierne. I still have things to learn. At 6:38 am the day comes up quietly, the tide is not strong and we will arrive around high water.

Watch from 9 to 11 am. Brutal wake-up, but outside it is sunny, we are two-thirds of the way across the Baie d’Audierne and the Pointe du Raz is clearly in sight. I bear away as far as I can to aim for La Plate before turning into the eastern channel of Sein. At 10:30 am I call Anne up to jibe, then we drop the spinnaker for the arrival.

A clever transit between a red beacon and a landmark to get into the channel. An orange catamaran is sitting exactly where Anne wanted to go and the depth is a little short, so we stop to eat first. Halfway through my nap it starts moving more and more: the tide is rising, there are fewer and fewer rocks to shelter us from the westerly swell. “Right, we move.” We re-anchor deeper, the whole chain goes out.

Rowing the dinghy in to the harbour. A cider at the bar, where I break a glass. The crew of another boat from the rally turns up without our having arranged anything. Round the island as far as the lighthouse, back, pasta, and a game of Skull King that Anne wins by a mile.

J6 Fri 1 May

Île de Sein → Île de l'Aber

27.1 nm

The boat is restless at anchor and there is noise on every roll, earplugs or not. I am not afraid of it: I know I slept through the night watches upwind. I accept the noises and the sensations instead of trying to fight them, and I fall asleep fairly quickly. Awake around 9 am, easily.

I settle into the companionway in the sun, there is condensation on the deck and terns calling all around. Breakfast on deck, all of us — this time I treat myself and heat it. We leave around midday: there should be a bit of wind in the afternoon, and we finish our run of islands properly, heading for the anchorage at the Île de l’Aber.

We leave under sail like professionals. We start on a transit I found and Anne likes, but the tide carries us off, which forces us north of Tévennec. I cook the courgette pasta while it moves in every direction, and I am not remotely seasick — that would not have happened at the start of the week.

We come into the bay quietly. I am a little bored, we are downwind, and the idea of setting the spinnaker crosses my mind. So I get myself going: I rig it, hoist it, drop the headsail on my own, sort out my lazy sheet led through the guardrails, and it all works. Anne still trims the spinnaker, but I did everything else myself.

A Norwegian cruising boat crosses us, on her way from Bordeaux to Saint-Malo. A game of Skull King: this time I have a good hand, maybe a better strategy, and I win with 340 points.

Extremely efficient drop: we are a good team now. A short motor round to choose the anchorage, close to the Île de l’Aber. Drinks, and a fine sunset for the last night.

First night at anchor, first night passage, first watches, first time at Belle-Île, first time in a dinghy. I absolutely have to live more things like this.

J7 Sat 2 May

Île de l'Aber → Douarnenez

11.8 nm

Since it is the last night, I decided to try the forepeak. There is plenty of room and I sleep very well.

Awake around 8:20 am without trouble, the light through the hatch helps.

We leave under sail, rigging very efficiently. We are a crew that works well now. At first there is almost no wind, so we put the engine on and settle in to play cards — especially as it is raining hard outside. But very soon there are 30 knots. We cut the engine and go upwind. Léa helms while Anne fiddles with the electronics, because of a system alarm and a problem with the autopilot. A few tacks at 6–7 knots and we are quickly into Douarnenez. As we enter the harbour the rain stops and the sun comes out.

We tidy up a bit and cook… pasta. With pesto and feta, it is fine. We talk for a long time in the sun in the cockpit.

Then comes the most tedious part, more tedious even than getting the chain in: the cleaning. From the ends towards the middle, from the top down. The washing-up, emptying the technical locker, cleaning the dinghy, folding the intermediate jib, washing the hob, the cushions, the sole, and so on, and so on, and so on. By 5 pm we start to see the end of it. Bar. We share out the food that is left.

Then I drive home. The car feels strange: it goes fast, the landscape rushes past, there is no nature around. I avoid listening to podcasts, I want to give my brain the time to take in everything that happened.

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