Sailing
On the 21st of September of the year 1999, we left the Gaspé marina for a one-day cruise aboard the sailboat Congruence. We steered toward the rock of La Vieille, at the extremity of Forillon Park.
From the very first moments of the expedition, as the marina's director Marc Simoneau tries to find wind, and we, our balance. The stage is sot. We have no choice: Spending a whole day on a 140-square-feet, tossing surface commands a certain discipline from each of us.
Marc takes advantage of the lull to set the atmosphere. «At th time, Gaspé was a very conspicuous place for navigators. All sailors who crossed the Atlantic stopped here to take advantage of the site's protection.» The city is built on the outskirts of one of the best protected harbours in the world, the harbour of Gaspé.
In the absence of wind, we're travelling by motor in this natural harbour. «We should have more wind until we reach the Gaspé Bay», Marc reassures us, «unless you start to whistle.» Superstitious we are not, but all at once, pursing their lips, the crew breaks into a discordant melody. A breeze rises, we double our efforts. We whistle as hard as we can. There it is a gust of wind raises the tails of our clothes. The captain is ready to set sail.
We may have whistled a tad too hard, maybe Eole had a very attentive ear today, but blast upon blast, we get to the point of Forillon Park in no time. As the crew hangs on to all that's within reach and keeps their mouth shut tightly, Marc and his wife Élisabeth display a proud smile. That's how we recognize true navigators!
With great wisdom, Élisabeth suggests we have a bite. Easier said than done never was a sandwhich harder to assemble. Hanging on to one of the ship's beams, kitchen knife solidly in hand, journalist Carlos Soldevila clumsily cuts the bread. He's getting greener by the second. So is the salami. I'm worried. Each slice I succeed in inserting between the bread seems less edible. In between each involuntary roll at the bottom of the hold, we manage to stay in the middle long enough to pile tomatoes, lettuce and cheese anarchically upon the bread. Some slices only make it to the floor, but no matter. Who will have the urge to eat anyway? The monstrosities we hold in our hands have of a sandwich in name only. An hour later, when we emerge with these mutant creations, the rest of the crew seems disappointed.
We leave the point of Forillon Park to get shelter from the wind and take sustenance. Snoopy, a sailboat, is nearing us at great speed. «Don't worry», Marc says, «they're friends of mine. Congruence is a lot faster than their boat!» Our captain nevertheless makes it his duty to tighten the sails. He's never been passed and it certainly will not happen for the first time in front of our cameras!
Marc's smile is becoming less and less confident as Snoopy closes the distance between the ships. We try to interview him, but Marc keeps turning back to measure the distance that separates them. We join the battle and whistle a little, but what was meant to happen happens: Snoopy passes us, liveª, in front of Via Adventure's cameras! Having weathered this blow, we take the route back. The day is starting to fall and the lights of Gaspé city shine in the shadows. The view is magnificent.
«Now you understand why I sail here! There's no view of Gaspé more beautiful than the one we see from here.The Gaspé Bay is very pleasant to navigate because it's a water plane that's similar to a large lake, but it's also a door onto the ocean, and onto the world. I understand why navigators stopped here nearly 500 years ago.»
As we enter the Gaspé Bay, Marc is busy lowering the sails. We all feel kind of melancholy at the idea of leaving the river's waters, as if we had to take advantage of each second before the curtains fall behind us.
