OUSTAOU

Romain, your latest sailing and foiling journey felt deeply personal and raw. What inspired this particular adventure?
Setting sail is always an act of surrender. You can prepare everything—the crew, the gear, the provisions—but in the end, it’s always the wind and sea that have the final word. We’d been dreaming of this voyage for years. For nearly three decades, we’ve explored the Mediterranean, sometimes calm, sometimes brutal, but always full of promise. This time, we set out at summer’s edge—September, that fragile moment between the golden glow and the first chill of fall. It felt like the perfect time.

You mentioned a storm was approaching. Did that change your plans? The charts were glowing red - warnings everywhere. A full week of chaotic weather, exactly matching the timeline of our planned journey. But when you’ve got a strong crew and the call of adventure ringing in your ears, it’s hard to stay docked. Antoine, Pierre, and I - we’ve sailed these waters since childhood. Pierre races offshore professionally. Antoine, the son of a fisherman, knows how to listen when the sea is angry. We also had the two Camilles with us - less experienced, but full of trust. We decided to go for it.

What was the moment you knew this trip would be something special?
The moment we left the harbor. The wind was already howling, the rigging buzzing, the anemometer pushing past 30 knots. We hesitated for a second—but instinct took over. As soon as we unfurled that sliver of genoa and the boat heeled into the wind, we were in it. The rocky coast slid by, and we found our rhythm. That’s when the adventure truly began.

And then you added foiling into the mix?
Of course. It was time to push the limits. I rigged the foil with a paddle and jumped in. The sea was wild, but a few strokes and I was flying. The boat tore past me, and I was gliding in the spray, between water and sky. It’s surreal - riding like that, chasing your own boat, dancing with the chaos around you.

What were the conditions like around Cap Sicié?
Cap Sicié is brutal - a towering cliff where the wind funnels and the sea churns. We waited for the morning calm before rounding it. Once we passed, the ocean softened, and I dove back in. The feeling of carving through calmer water after the madness…it was euphoric. That’s what freedom feels like

It sounds like the sea didn’t always play nice. How did you handle the stormy nights?
On one night, the forecast called for over 50 knots. We didn’t push it—we sought shelter in port. And honestly, those two days were a gift. We fished, surfed, cooked, and just enjoyed being with each other. It wasn’t downtime—it was part of the journey. The kind of pause that adds depth to the story.

Any particular moment that stayed with you?
That final evening. The wind calmed, the stars came out, and we celebrated a birthday onboard. Laughter, stories, salt on our skin—it was the perfect send-off. By the time we reached our final harbor, it was a bittersweet mix of relief and nostalgia. The sea had given us everything: challenge, calm, chaos, and joy.

Any words you'd like to leave us with?
Just this: to the Mediterranean, our untamed mistress—thank you. For your rage and beauty, for every test and every reward. You changed us, as you always do.