The Long Way Around the World
There are easier ways to ruin your life.
You can get married.
You can buy a house.
You can get a mortgage and spend thirty years pretending the bank owns only your money.
Or you can enter the Vendée Globe.
The Vendée Globe is the one where you take a racing yacht around the planet.
Alone.
Non-stop.
Without assistance.
Three great capes.
The Southern Ocean.
The Atlantic.
Then back to France.
If everything goes well, you finish.
If it doesn't, you become an interesting story somebody tells in a bar.
The ocean doesn't care about your résumé.
It doesn't care if you are famous.
It doesn't care if you won Olympic medals.
It doesn't care if your mother thinks you're special.
It cares about wind, waves, steel, carbon, fatigue and whether the thing holding your mast up decides to remain attached.
And now a Croatian wants to do it.
Ivica Kostelić.
Of course he does.
THE MAN WHO GOT BORED WITH SKIING
Ivica was one of the best skiers in the world.
World champion.
World Cup winner.
Olympic medalist.
A man who spent his career throwing himself down mountains at ridiculous speeds while normal people watched on television and wondered whether he had finally lost his mind.
Then he retired.
Most athletes eventually find something quieter.
Golf.
Fishing.
Commentating.
Selling insurance.
Ivica found sailing.
Not the kind where you sit in a marina drinking beer while somebody else handles the ropes.
The real thing.
Offshore racing.
Small boats.
Big oceans.
Sleep deprivation.
Cold.
Storms.
And the constant possibility that something expensive is about to make a noise it shouldn't make.
It makes perfect sense.
Skiing has an expiration date.
Sailing doesn't.
You can be old and still be dangerous.
The ocean doesn't ask how old you are.
It asks whether you can keep the boat moving.
IVICA LEARNED FAST
He came into sailing late.
But he had already spent his life learning how to suffer.
That helps.
He learned the ropes quickly, surrounded himself with experienced sailors and mentors, and started racing offshore.
Mini 650.
Class40.
Atlantic crossings.
Transatlantic races.
Different boats.
Different problems.
Same man.
Push harder.
Go faster.
Try again.
That's the thing about elite athletes.
They don't really understand moderation.
Moderation is for people who finish second and say they had a nice day.
Ivica has never looked like a man interested in having a nice day.
THERE IS JUST ONE LITTLE PROBLEM
He doesn't know when to stop.
This is excellent in skiing.
In sailing, it can become expensive.
Very expensive.
Because boats have limits.
The sailor says:
More.
The boat says:
Maybe not.
The sailor says:
More.
The boat says:
I'm warning you.
The sailor says:
MORE.
And then something breaks.
This is what happened during his Route du Rhum attempt.
The Atlantic eventually presented the bill.
Technical problems.
Damage.
Water.
Race over.
That's offshore sailing.
You can be the toughest bastard on the ocean and still lose to a twelve-euro fitting that was manufactured on a Tuesday afternoon.
I've learned this myself.
The ocean has a very good sense of humour.
NOW HE WANTS THE VENDEE GLOBE
Ivica has joined the Yacht Club de Cannes as part of his campaign to reach the Vendée Globe.
And that's a serious step.
Because the Vendée Globe isn't something you organise between lunch and dinner.
It is a four-year campaign.
Boat.
Sponsors.
Team.
Training.
Qualification.
Logistics.
Money.
More money.
Then some more money because something has broken.
The current qualification system for the 2028 Vendée Globe is brutal enough before you even reach the starting line.
And the starting line is the easy part.
After that, you have to sail around the world alone.
The idea is simple.
The execution is completely insane.
BUT WHERE IS CROATIA?
This is the part that bothers me.
Because Ivica is Croatian.
The first Croatian attempting to qualify for the Vendée Globe.
And yet he has had to build his campaign largely through France.
I understand why.
France is sailing's laboratory.
The IMOCA fleet is there.
The teams are there.
The sponsors are there.
The experience is there.
But Croatia should be there too.
Not necessarily with a suitcase full of government money.
Just somebody saying:
We've got your back.
A Croatian company.
A marina.
A shipyard.
A tourism company.
A serious sponsor.
Somebody who understands that putting a Croatian flag on a boat and sending it around the world is not just another advertising campaign.
It's a story.
And Croatia is supposed to be a maritime country.
We have thousands of islands.
Thousands of boats.
Centuries of sailors.
We talk about the sea constantly.
But when somebody actually decides to sail around the planet alone, we suddenly become very busy.
I KNOW HOW HARD THIS IS
I've sailed that route.
Not the Vendée Globe.
I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
I sailed around the world on HIR 3.
Thirty-nine thousand nautical miles.
Southern Ocean.
Three great capes.
Cape of Good Hope.
Cape Leeuwin.
Cape Horn.
A ten-metre, forty-year-old boat.
I know what the Southern Ocean feels like.
I know what it feels like when there is nowhere to hide.
And I know what happens when the ocean gets big and the boat gets very small.
But I'm not a competitive sailor.
I couldn't put together the sponsorship required to campaign for something like the Vendée Globe.
So I can't help Ivica with money.
I wish I could.
I'd rather be writing the cheque than writing this article.
But I can't.
So I'll do the next best thing.
I'll watch.
I'll follow.
I'll cheer.
BECAUSE THIS ONE MATTERS
Ivica has something that cannot be bought with sponsorship money.
He knows how to suffer.
He knows how to train when nobody is watching.
He knows how to get up after things go wrong.
He knows how to keep going when the sensible person would have gone home.
Now he has to learn the other half of the game.
Sometimes you don't win by going harder.
Sometimes you win by not breaking the boat.
That might be the hardest lesson of all.
Because there is a strange difference between a mountain and an ocean.
A mountain doesn't move.
The ocean does.
And when you are sailing around the world alone, the ocean gets a vote.
A very big vote.
So, Ivica:
Get the boat.
Get the sponsors.
Get the miles.
Learn when to push.
Learn when to back off.
And for God's sake, stop breaking things.
Because I want to see a Croatian boat disappear over the horizon at Les Sables-d'Olonne.
I want to see it cross the Southern Ocean.
I want to see it round Cape Horn.
I want to see that Croatian flag somewhere in the middle of the Pacific where there is nothing but water for thousands of miles.
And I want to see it come home.
Not because Croatia needs another medal.
Not because somebody needs another trophy.
But because sometimes one crazy bastard has to try something nobody from your country has tried before.
This is that time.
I've been around the world.
I've been around the Horn.
I know what waits out there.
So I'm telling you, Ivica:
Don't be sensible.
Just be smart enough to keep the boat in one piece.
And when the ocean starts kicking your ass, remember:
You're Croatian.
Kick back.
GO IVICA.
Support independent sea stories.
Not algorithms.
Real miles. Real storms. Real sailing.
☕