quietly. When I think that this little trickle of water will also make a big ocean!

I decided to walk along the beach one last time where I almost drowned as a child. And yet, I love it so much

this infinite song of waves and swell, and wind and seagulls.

When I arrive at the port, the seagulls are overjoyed. The shrouds of the sailboats tinkle in the dawn air.

I even hear the foghorn of the enormous ship that is going back to fishing. When I get into my schooner, it cracks

on all sides as if she was waking up.

The next day, the bow of my proud «Bleu Indigo» (that’s what I called my boat) breaks the sea spray. I leave

full north, towards the Arctic Glacial Ocean.

I am greeted there by the songs of serious and deaf whales that sometimes leap far in front of the bow. On starboard, the ice floe

is crossed by disturbing crackling of icebergs that are breaking.

Then having turned full south towards Barbados, I can finally afford, after 6 weeks at sea without a stopover, a dive

incredible submarine: in all these noises that populate the bottom of the seas, I suddenly hear the little squeaks

friendly of the dolphins and I decide to stay to play with them for half a day.

But the southern seas, west of the Cape of Good Hope, reserve 3 appalling nights for me. The sea roars with everything

side. I don’t know if "Bleu Indigo" will hold up. I wipe packages of water under deafening winds and

gigantic waves. By keeping the tiller steady, my arm seems heavy as stone. But in me

raising to try to desperately catch the big sail that has just torn, my foot slides on the deck. I try to

hold back at the railing, but it is too late. I am in the water...

... It’s my old mechanical alarm clock that wakes me up. It was only