We are living in an age, particularly in the sailing realm, that seems unreal. Records are being smashed, boats are flying, in some places they can’t accommodate more entries in their regattas, and while I personally love all of this, I think that it’s always good to take a look at the past to see where we once were and how far we have come.
I came across an old article about the French Canadian sailor Gerry Roufs the other day. Let me cut to the chase; Roufs was lost at sea during the 1996/97 Vendee Globe. For any and all sailors to lose a fellow sailor is a bit of a gut check, but Gerry’s loss stung pretty badly.
Roufs was born in Montreal, Canada in 1953. He was a talented small boat sailor and placed 2nd in the 470 Class World Championships in Marstrand, Sweden in 1978. He had done some offshore sailing but was by no measure a seasoned veteran of the wide open ocean. Through the strength of his personality and determination, Gerry was able to build an IMOCA 60. Furthermore he secured a sponsor, Groupe LG a high end, exclusive car dealership that is a dominant force across France. With a new boat designed by Finot Conq, who at the time were on the cutting edge of IMOCA design and a sponsor who cared, it was time for Gerry to step onto the international stage.
There is no doubt that the death of American Mike Plant four years earlier while delivering his boat Coyote to the start of the 1992/93 Vendee Globe was on the ids of many sailors. Mike went missing and months later the upturned hull of Coyote was discovered. It was hard to believe that a keel could just break off.
In 1996 when the Vendee took off from France there was no Yellow Brick tracker. There was no 24/7 means of seeing not only where your favorite boat was and the kind of wind conditions that they were experiencing, but there was a fairly rudimentary tracking system.
Gerry was near the front of the feet racing against the eventual winner Christophe Auguin. We were cheering him on only because he wasn’t (a real) Frenchman. Then somewhere in the South Pacific between New Zealand and Cape Horn things went quiet. No one could reach him. He had an EPIRB on board but had not activated it. After days of hoping against hope those of us who had followed him and his loved ones started to give up hope.
The upturned hull of Groupe LG finally washed up on the coast of Chile in July of the same year. It was clear to investigators that the keel had most likely, without any warning, suddenly snapped off leaving Gerry no time to activate his EPIRB or deploy his liferaft. The freezing water would have taken his life in a matter of minutes.
I write about this now because many of us take what we have for granted, but there were trailblazers that came ahead of us and paved the way. RIP Gerry, you were a true trailblazer. – Brian Hancock.
