The dark outlines of trees flash past the windows of the train, it must be getting close to winter as the sun, made huge by the prismatic effects of the morning sky, is only now making its way above the eastern horizon and its 8:30am.

Shadows recede into meadows of mist broken by trees, farmhouses, and the occasional lake still like a mirror. The sun is rising quickly now, shrinking and growing brighter with every second as the train speeds towards the Atlantic coast of France.

I have figured out that even if you don't know a word of the other persons language, a smile crosses all the boundaries and makes your day feel complete, even when its only 8:30 in the morning. However if a town could smile, that town would be Les Sable dOlone.
I have only been here for a few hours and already I have fallen in love with the place and the sailing camaraderie and energy it exudes. So much that my passion for sailing is ingnighted like I have a tiller in my hand surfing a catermeran at 15 knots down a swell...and I haven't even put my toes in the water yet.

I thought I was coming to a sleepy little sea side town, and maybe Les Sable dOlone is, but its two weeks till the start of the Vende Globe yacht race, and every 4 years this little town teaches the world about sailing fever.

Les Sable dOlone is the start and finish and only port for the yachts and their incredibly courageous skippers that sail around the worlds oceans nonstop, unassisted, and solo, every 4 years in the Vende Globe.
So apart from a few glimpses of land along the way, usually inhospitable venues such as Cape Horn, this is what they remember civilisation as, and its what they get back too about 100 days later.

The people of this town, as well as the entire country give them sendoff and return parity's that put the rest of the world to shame. 200,000 people turned out the greet 24yr old English woman Ellen MacArthur in 2001 when the last race finished. That was double the number greeting first place Michael Desjoyeaux of France just 24 hours before.

The people of France are really passionate about sailing, and they really are the elite of open ocean sailing. 60% of the country know of the race and what its about, and this is the town where that atmosphere overflows. For the last two days there has been a steady crowd of onlookers walking past the boats on the dock as they get ready for sea. From 9 in the morning till after dark the docks are packed with throngs of people, and I am finding it hard to leave, even though my French conversation ability is non existent, the place just feels good, really good.
I talked to some of the skippers, and found there the most down to earth and personable people, they want to meet you, ask your name and talk...which makes sense because if your an asshole the only person to piss off on the boat is yourself. They do this race for themselves first, no one races around the world alone just for the trophy.

The displays and presentations in the tents along the dockside are incredible with detailed bio's of all the skippers, intricate models of the top three boats for every race held, displays of equipment that the boats have on board, and the video footage from the last race to get your heart pounding.
The boats are still being worked on to make them ready, and the skippers make time for the many people that ask for autographs. Its fantastic to see elderly couples taking there official program to any skipper they can find for signatures, just like the six year olds running around their feet.

chats not all this town is about, the surf hits the crescent shaped beach with great curls of green water, swells imported direct from the north Atlantic and the bay of Biscay, to the delight of the 100 or so rubber clad surfers bobbing in the water watching for their set. High tide has the breakers reaching the sea wall while low tide exposes a large expanse of golden sand. The town itself is centered around the harbor with the beach and all the fancy restaurants and hotels on the south side while a rocky coast line extends both north and south from the town.

The harbor entrance is two large breakwaters pushing out into the open sea, with enough of a curve to stop the direct line of swells from creeping in. Just near the entrance of the harbor and almost on the beach is the sailing school stacked with opti's, hobie cats, and windsurfers.

As I walk past a couple of inflatable boats lead a gaggle of 8 years olds in optimists out into the 15knts and large swell. It seems this is the quite side of weather around here, and within minutes the gaggle is ripping around tacking and gybing just as naturally as breathing. Meanwhile the swell continues to pound the shore trying to get noticed...