Sport: A Man and a Boat

Alone, alone, all, all alone,

Alone on a wide, wide sea!

—The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Of the 55 sailors who started in the singlehanded transatlantic sailboat race a month ago, most were still alone, all alone last week, somewhere on the wide, wide sea between Plymouth, England, and Newport, R.I. They were still battling cold and cramp, waves and weariness; still leary of sleep lest their untended craft be run down by a freighter or collide with an iceberg. They were still in danger of drifting aimlessly with broken equipment, or of being swept overboard with no help near.

Not Alain Colas. A handsome 28-year-old Frenchman with a Tahitian beauty as his fiancee and the sea as his mistress, Colas was ashore in Newport, sipping a heady mixture of champagne and acclaim. Colas (pronounced Kola) had crossed the finish line 20 days, 1 3 hours and 15 minutes after the start, for the fastest — by more than five days — winning time in the four quadrennial races held to date. In his ugly duckling of a boat, the 70-ft. by 35-ft. aluminum trimaran Pen Duick IV, Colas had averaged about 150 nautical miles a day for the 3,000-mile voyage, covering 260 miles in one 24-hour period.

Though Pen Duick had been one of the pre-race favorites, its progress during the crossing was largely unnoticed. For one thing, Colas's radio was not always working; for another, most fans followed rapturous reports on Vendredi 13, a massive, three-masted schooner built specially for the event by American Designer Dick Carter, bankrolled by French Film Director Claude (A Man and a Woman) Lelouch, and sailed by Parisian Swinger Jean-Yves Terlain. By all accounts, Vendredi was well ahead and less than a day from Newport when Lelouch chartered a plane to add some footage to his proposed documentary on his boat's victory, to be called A Man and a Boat. What he got instead was a stunning view of Pen Duick gliding across the finish off Brenton Reef 16 hours in front.

Race officials also were caught by surprise. Many were relaxing at a cocktail party in a Newport mansion when Lelouch radioed back his discovery. Gin-and-tonics were hurriedly abandoned and the officials scurried to the Port O' Call Marina for an unscheduled welcoming ceremony. After Colas docked, Newport Mayor Humphrey ("Harp") Donnelly III popped a bottle of New York champagne and proposed a toast. Colas politely drank the offering, then ducked into Pen Duick's cabin to produce a magnum of Taittinger. Obviously, nearly three weeks at sea had not affected the Frenchman's palate.

In fact, Colas's provisions for the trip included a variety of French delicacies; farmers from his native Normandy provided Camembert, Pont l'Evêque and Livarot cheeses, pâté, tripe à la mode de Caen and a supply of Calvados. Even so, the voyage was no pleasure cruise. Pen Duick's living quarters are so cramped that even 5-ft. 6-in. Colas had to cook almost doubled up over a low stove. But that was a small, familiar drawback. Colas previously sailed Pen Duick singlehanded from Mauritius around the Cape of Good Hope to Brittany—a nonstop journey of 10,000 miles. Other jaunts included Australia to Tahiti (after Colas quit his job as a French lecturer at the University of Sydney) and Tahiti to Mauritius (with his fiancée, Teura Krause).