Fifteen years ago, I settled in New Zealand with the dream to sail back to France. This dream had been dormant for many moons, until it was rekindled, by an incidental coaching session I took part in with a friend, tackling Impossible Dreams.

Today, 510 days since our departure from Auckland on May 2d, 2022, we made it to continental France after the last offshore leg of our half-circumnavigation, from Calvi, in Corsica, to Port Cros, the wildest of Hyeres’ Golden Isles. A very smooth crossing starting with 20-25 knots downwind, which progressively died down to nil two third of the way, forcing us to carry on under engine from 2am, on a glassy surface and under an unspoilt starry sky where Zephyr distinguished many a new constellation thanks to our companion book “Seeing stars”.

The landing was soft because we left a heavenly island to find another. Immortals had preceded us (see Walking through immortals – to come) on the shady and immaculate path surrounding the island (where it is forbidden to smoke, halleluijah!) which we followed cheerfully, from Port Man to Plage de la Palud, where we then let ourselves be guided along the underwater trail by the submerged signposts signalling the different species of marine fauna that gave us a colorful welcome to our homeland.

No fanfare, but whole schools of saupes with their horizontal blue and yellow stripes playing in the posidonia, of large gilt-head breams and impassive black-headed sars floating in the cold currents, of fluorescent rainbow wrasses, of damsel fish by hundreds, a script serrano hanging upside down by the rocks, a couple of bright red apogons hiding below a rock, a capon and moray eel concealed between the cracks, and a few delicate purple-striped jellyfish preventing the most risk-adverse pool of swimmers to take a dip and had us on the lookout to avoid a sting.

On the beach, we also met a group of friends cruising aboard their boat Panarea, to whom I offered to lend our snorkelling equipment, finding it too bad they’d forgotten theirs and weren’t enjoying this magical place to the fullest. We chatted for a while, and it was great to feel a touch of pride in their admiring eyes while we recounted our trip.

I had naively thought, at the start of it, that we’d agree on an official date and port of arrival where we would be welcomed with open arms by familiar faces, but now I understand that we have chosen our timing poorly, that everyone is busy finishing their vacations or preparing to go back to school or work, and that we, too, will soon have to face the stark reality, our dream fading away behind us like a distant memory.

Fortunately, I still have a few pictures to sort out, blog articles to write up, and videos to edit to ensure a lasting taste of this marvellous adventure, but I can’t deny I am freaking out about what’s next. After yolo, I’d like to offer a new acronym: yocbo, for “You only come back once”, so let’s hope we’ll find the energy soon to throw a party and celebrate in style that WE ARE BACK!