A butterfly-shaped pocket of paradise nestled in the Caribbean Sea, Guadeloupe is a land of tropical forests punctuated by waterfalls. It’s a stark contrast to the brittle sunshine of northern France in November, where the Route du Rhum fleet tuck themselves under St Malo’s ancient ramparts before the start, hiding from the Atlantic gales.
Arriving in Guadeloupe is the reward for negotiating one of the trickiest of transatlantic crossings. But while it is seductive, this island paradise is also deceptive. After flying in on the north-easterly tradewinds, the skippers must hook around Guadaloupe’s western butterfly wing, looping the island of Basse Terre where its thickly forested cliffs cast a windshadow over the deciding miles of the 3,500-mile race.
Ever since Mike Birch and his nimble 39ft trimaran Olympus Photo overhauled the 69ft monohull Kriter in the dying seconds of the first Route du Rhum in 1978, the four-yearly transatlantic has seen fortunes falter over these final few miles. Every skipper approaching this year’s finish did so looking over their shoulder, knowing that even a seemingly secure advantage could melt away in the sticky heat of a windless calm.
This time, it was Pip Hare who was ensnared. Coming into Guadeloupe in 10th she put in some final gybes to put into a controlling position, only to park up under the cliffs, drifting at 2 knots
