Joubert and his team got to work. From concept to reality, Didier awaited the progress of the various stages of production like an expectant father. Creation of this superlight hull went thus: Once the composite mixture of carbon fibres, Kevlar and epoxy resin had been lain in the moulds, they would be pressed together by suction and baked to a temperature approaching 150ºC, within an autoclave or big oven, to compact the materials into one homogeneous mass and once cooled and trimmed, the two halves would be joined. Approximately 9,000 man-hours later, the monohull and deck assembly emerged from the workshop to make the southwards journey to St Tropez for final touches and a rigorous programme of testing.
In the meantime, Didier had been in conversation with Midy with regards to baptising the boat. From among Midial’s many brands, the businessman and Didier chose to christen their flagship boat after the company’s famous pastry brand. Thus did the new 41-foot, 3,000kg composite monohull race boat powered by twin V12 Lamborghini engines take to the water as Colibri or ‘hummingbird’ as it translates in English.
The next task was to put together a crew. Racing these beasts required the efforts of three distinct components, namely throttle, steering and navigation. With Didier on the helm (steering) and Guénard on throttle, navigation duties fell to Bernard Giroux, F1 commentator for French TV channel TF1. Giroux had a taste for adventure. A double winner of the Paris–Dakar rally – most recently alongside Ari Vatanen – he had also participated in the Rouen 24-hour and Paris 6-hour races with distinction. Didier’s kind of guy then – fearless, brave and up for a challenge. When TV commitments absented him, his place was taken by Pierre ‘Pom’ Harnois, another member of this close-knit circle of French daredevils and petrol heads.
Colibri was officially launched in May to a media fanfare. It was a bright, sunny afternoon when she was unveiled in St Tropez. Immaculate in their matching team blazers, Didier and the Leader crew toasted the future. Thirteen races in the European Championship lay ahead beginning in Villanueva in Spain in April, ending in Guernsey in September, plus the three-race World Championships in Key West in November.
‘Looking and going like a bullet,’ was Powerboating International’s assessment of Colibri in the opening Villanueva race, its reporter sounding a note of caution, however, when observing the craft ‘rolling all the way …’54 The boat was already gaining a reputation for instability. In the event, a sixth-place finish was a more than satisfactory way to start a season.
Forty-five boats lined up at Monte Carlo harbour for the next round in early June, most of them Class I. Didier joined a field of competitors that included ex-Ferrari F1 and Le Mans legend Jacky Ickx, ex-tennis star Adriano Panatta, Casiraghi and a raft of Italian champions. Although not F1, offshore undeniably had a certain cachet all its own. Didier’s conversion to a sport that was every bit as glamorous and just as dangerous – more so – than its automotive counterpart, is easy to understand. Certainly, the offshore course was every bit as challenging as that facing its four-wheeled cousins. Starting at the Monaco yacht club in front of the famous harbour, the 136-mile course skirted Nice en route to Cape Ampello in Italian waters before heading back to the Principality, a circuit repeated three times and lasting around two hours. Formula 1 of the seas, they called it. This was Didi’s new world.
The Monaco F1 Grand Prix and offshore race coinciding this Côte d’Azur weekend, Rombo magazine asked Didier to compare his current world with that of his old one. A journalist was thus despatched to accompany him into both hemispheres, past and future. In the section dealing with motorsport, the magazine alluded to the moment the French ace arrived in the Ferrari paddock. On chancing upon the 158s of current drivers Michele Alboreto (27) and Stefan Johansson (28), Didier cast a wistful eye over the scarlet cars. Was there the faintest hint of sorrow in those deep blue eyes? Perhaps. On the day after the Grand Prix, Rombo then accompanied him on Colibri. Noting a subtle change in his demeanour, the magazine commented that, ‘He has only just lost that sad look of 24 hours before, when he observed with nostalgia in his eyes and heart, the Ferrari F1 cars at the Monte Carlo pits.’ Talk turned to the current F1 scene, and the pre-eminence of Prost. The writer ended his piece with an observation as perceptive as it was poignant:
‘Pironi then falls silent for a moment. And crouching on the hull looks away towards the sea. Perhaps the nostalgia that comes back or maybe the bitter thought that instead of Prost, in France and in the world, it could be him …’
His Formula 1 career on hold, Didier threw himself into his quest to conquer offshore. He had no other choice. Blistering speed apart, a catalogue of technical gremlins had plagued Colibri and Monaco became another fruitless race to add to those in Cannes, St Tropez and Porto Cervo (Sardinia). Moreover, concerns regarding the boat’s stability refused to go away. Some elements of the Italian media used a line from a popular song to describe her handling – guarda come dondolo – see how she rocks … After six rounds of the 1987 championship, Didier only lay in tenth place in the standings, some way off the Italian pacesetters Gigi Radice and Antonio Giofreddi. Undaunted, he pressed on. His faith in his hummingbird never wavered.
It was not until the gala visited Sweden in early August that Colibri started to flex her muscles. Racing among the archipelagos of Oregrund, the boats encountered freezing rain, poor visibility and choppy seas at little more than zero temperatures. Cannes this was not. On race day, Colibri streaked into an early lead and held on for half the race. It could not and did not last. Didier recorded another non-finish. There was better news for Fruitier however, who managed third behind the rampant Italians. Colibri – Hummingbird – had been created in her master’s image, speed to burn, but fragility to match. Should it all hold together, who could doubt that victory was nearby?
One week later in Norway on 15 August, Colibri duly scorched to her first Class I victory. The race took place in Arendal, a pretty little waterside town sheltered by a long island and featuring a racecourse that circled the surrounding fjords. Joined by Harnois as Giroux’s replacement, Didier and Jean-Claude comfortably beat the best the Italians could throw at them. Abbate, Della Valle, Spelta and Gioffredi all trailed behind the red and white arrow’s wake. Vive la Republique! France had finally arrived in offshore. Perhaps of more value than the winner’s trophy was the congratulatory telegram sent by Enzo Ferrari. Il Commendatore was still following the progress of his French lieutenant, albeit from afar.
Before the next round of the championship in the marine town of Poole on the south-east coast of England, Didier was as busy as ever. A man always in demand, in early August he attended a party in Pamplona with his good friend Paul Belmondo, an aspiring driver and son of French movie legend Jean-Paul Belmondo. Wearing his Leader t-shirt, he was part of a large party dining al fresco. Belmondo junior and Didier liked to get around. In true Didier fashion, he also stopped off at Île de Porquerolles, a small holiday island just off France’s Mediterranean coast where he dined with friends including the actor Andre Pousse. Didier arrived for the appointment via helicopter:
‘He chose to land in the tightest possible space, surrounded with trees,’ recalls a fellow guest. ‘I just saw one small part of a branch fly off a tree. No pilot would have chosen the spot he chose. As he came down from his ’copter he was smiling at me, and I said to him: “Didier, you had plenty of space on the other side!” He replied in that calm, confident voice: “I was just trying something – it was quite tight …”’
Catherine’s absence at his side during these events was for a very good reason: she was pregnant. After several unsuccessful past IVF treatments, in early June she had called the hospital with a good dose of trepidation to learn the outcome of their latest effort. What if this attempt – their fifth – failed?
‘Madame, your test is positive…’
Expecting the worst, Catherine was already choking back tears. ‘Pardon? Can it be true?
‘Yes Madame, it is true. You are pregnant!’
Sobbing wi
th happiness, Catherine flew upstairs. Going about his business in the couple’s bedroom, Didier took his lover gently in his arms, ‘Do not worry, we start again.’
‘No!’ whispered Catherine. ‘This time, Didier, we won.’
Prevented from conceiving naturally due to Catherine’s history of gynaecological problems, the couple had turned to Professor Zorn, a specialist in ‘test-tube’ technology. Given her catalogue of health issues, IVF was a path she might have rejected outright had it not been for her partner’s desire to become a father. The prospect of twins thrilled the couple. ‘Pink or blue?’ Didier would often wonder which colour teddy bear to bring back from his offshore adventures. At night, he would place his head gently on Catherine’s stomach, asking playfully, ‘How are you today, my babies?’
August 1987 and the future appeared brighter than ever. Not only was Colibri fulfilling her potential, but a return to Formula 1 was a reality merely requiring a signature on a contract. On the Friday before leaving for the UK, Didier had met with his old friend and mentor Gerard Larousse to discuss a sensational return to the ex-Renault chief’s eponymous team. According to Larousse, the deal had been done: Pironi would be back in F1 in 1988.
Twenty-seven
Thus ends this strange, eventful history55
Didier headed to England in an optimistic frame of mind. The night before he left, he had kissed Catherine and the twins goodbye. As the helicopter had risen above the thatched roof of their Souvigny love nest, the lady of the manor could surely never have known it would be the last time she would glimpse her noble knight, the man in whose presence she claimed never to have any fear. Three days later, he would be back, winner of the Needles offshore race. They would resume their life together, planning for the twins, looking forward to a new phase of life. Didier had spent five years fighting doubt as well as pain. Catherine was no stranger to despair herself. After many trials and more than a few errors, fate had brought them back together. Happiness was within reach.
The Colibri crew arrived in England on Friday evening ahead of Sunday’s race. Together with a small group of French journalists, they went for pizzas. The mood was relaxed – with one exception. During the evening, Bernard Giroux privately expressed reservations to a member of the media. He was concerned about Sunday’s race, concerned about Colibri, about safety. To his media colleague Poivre d’Arvor he had fretted about the consequences of an accident at sea. If such an event occurred, how could the crew avoid the worst outcome? Giroux was wary. TV commitments now allowing, the presenter was back in the crew, replacing Harnois as navigator. However, he was not happy. Nor was his partner, French singing star Jane Manson, who had implored him to give up powerboating, a pursuit she considered highly risky and just plain irresponsible.
Indeed, Just Jaeckin remembers speaking to the presenter only days before the race in England. ‘I was with Didier and Bernard in St Tropez the day before they left for England,’ remembers Just. ‘I went on the boat, but it was not so enjoyable for me. Bernard told me that the boat hurt his back and that he had had enough.’ Giroux had promised the Isle of Wight would be his last race.
Saturday was scrutineering day. A maharajah sitting atop his prized elephant, Didier straddled Colibri as a lorry guided the gigantic craft into the quay in the heart of the town. Residents and holidaymakers alike could stroll past while these four-tonne beasts waited to be unleashed into the waters. The Royal Motor Yacht Club – the organisation hosting the event – set about checking the boat’s technical specifications. A comprehensive checklist also included ascertaining provision of items such as life jackets, flares, radio, foghorns, torches etc.
At 6pm the competitors assembled on the quayside for the mandatory briefing in which race officials ran through various procedures for the following day’s 170-mile event. Organisers also disclosed the positions of the fleet of observation and safety boats. The briefing ended with a meteorological forecast that suggested light winds of 3–4 mph for the morrow.
The crew rose early on Sunday morning. When Didier took the boat out for a final shakedown, a member of the French media took the place of Bernard Giroux, who seemed reluctant to even climb aboard the vessel. After poring over navigation maps, the TV man accompanied his team leader on a walk around the quay where they chatted to Stefano Casiraghi56 and posed for photographs. A little while later Bernard bumped into his media colleague Gilles Klein:
‘Bernard was standing by Colibri but he wasn’t smiling,’ recalls Klein. ‘I thought it was not like him. I got a strange feeling about things. I said “Hey, what’s up?” He looked serious.’
It was a relatively calm day in Poole harbour, one of the largest and shallowest enclosed harbours in the world. As is usually the way, the open sea was choppier, although visibility was good – about 15 miles. As the aroma of frying bacon diffused from the hospitality tents that lined the quayside, crews and officials buzzed around the boats. Once satisfied, craning into the harbour could begin. At what was an indecent hour for a Sunday or any other day, the roar of diesel engines filled the air. The monsters were seaborne.
From Poole the flotilla headed to the muster point just west of the holiday town of Bournemouth. A total of 57 boats took the start, from the Class I boats producing a fearsome 1,500–1,600hp, through Class II and III incorporating National Cruiser classes and the 1.3-litre class boats producing a relatively tiny 90hp. Named after the famous 30-metre chalk stacks that rise out of the sea at the western extremity of the Isle of Wight, the Needles offshore race comprised four circuits, starting with a short 24-mile inshore lap. The main courses took the boats past the town of Christchurch to the southern tip of the New Forest at Milford on Sea. From here, the fleet skirted the Needles as it raced towards Atherfield Bell on the south-west end of the Isle of Wight. There followed a long, straight stretch back across to the town of Swanage before a sharp right turn back towards Christchurch to complete what was in effect a large triangle.
At 10.36am the Class I race started. The ‘cigarettes’ skimmed the waves, leaving their distinctive spidery white trails behind. From the start, Colibri battled for the lead with Pinot de Pinot, the mount of former world champion Renato Della Valle. It soon became a two-boat race. While Colibri handled the turns at the various buoys better, the Italian boat seemed to fare better in open stretches. Following the action from above in two helicopters, the French media crew were witnessing a titanic scrap, which in order to keep up with necessitated a perilously low altitude. For Gilles Klein it was a completely new experience. The young photojournalist had been a late addition to the troop, only having accepted the commission the day before the race.
‘I was in one of the helicopters shadowing Colibri. It was pretty hair-raising stuff – to keep up, we sometimes flew what seemed like just metres above the boat.’
Strange as it sounds, the powerboats shared the waters with the usual array of private and leisure crafts out for a weekend cruise. While F1 cars do not share race circuits with Sunday drivers, offshore did just that. An accident waiting to happen? One cruiser thought so: ‘It is a frightening sight to see powerboats racing towards you at 30-second intervals, in line astern, at speeds of over 100mph,’ read a complaint to a local newspaper.
Given its many hazards, offshore racing had formulated its own mantra: Safety first, racing second. Indeed, The Royal Motor Yacht Club had left nothing to chance, stringently following Union Internationale Motonautique (UIM) guidelines regarding race procedure and safety provision. A total of 43 safety and rescue craft were deployed along the route, 14 at turning marks. Two race doctors also stood by.
An hour into the race, Colibri had taken the lead. In doing so, she had allegedly infringed the course boundaries, a transgression that if confirmed would incur a ten-minute penalty.
From his helicopter vantage point, Klein had already noticed a small ‘dot’ on the horizon. A 90-metre bitumen tanker, the Esso Avon had left Southampton en route to Belfast via the Solent and had entered the Needles ch
annel-shipping lane some minutes before. Depending on size, marine traffic has two available routes when approaching or departing from Southampton. Larger vessels – e.g. cruise and container ships – use the eastern channel that has the deeper draught, while smaller ones may take the western approach. Owned and operated by Esso Petroleum at just over 3,000 tonnes, the Avon was one of the smaller coastal tankers in its fleet. Travelling at better than 10 knots (12mph), the tanker was headed for the open waters of the English Channel.
While race control had not notified competitors of the Avon’s potential presence, they had warned them to expect a range of vessels to be in the vicinity. As to whether crews envisaged a craft with the oil tanker’s dimension is a moot point. Similarly, the tanker captain was unaware of the offshore race. In the aftermath of what followed, questions were raised in certain parts of the media regarding the wisdom or lack of therein of these decisions. Conventional wisdom suggested that prior knowledge would not have altered the course of events to any great degree. Bottom line: Safety first, racing second.
As Colibri and Pinot de Pinot rounded back into the Needles channel, they were now on the same trajectory as the tanker, albeit several hundred yards behind. North-west of the Needles, the tanker had passed an observation boat, Blue Thunder, whose two-man crew noted with concern, ‘a large wash consisting of three or four waves on either side of the stern of the boat’.57 Furthermore, they estimated the size of the wash to be 3–5 feet high, enough of a swell to shake their own craft ‘quite violently’. Patrolling near a point known as Shingles Elbow, two minutes later – at around 11.40am – the crew next observed Colibri approach at high speed, chased by the Italian boat. To reach the next course marker necessitated crossing the tanker’s wash from left to right, a diagonal change in direction invariably requiring a commensurate change in approach and speed. According to Blue Thunder, Colibri did neither. Riding first one wave, the French boat hit a second, but this time corkscrewed up into the air about 20 feet, flipping upside down, before crashing into the sea cockpit first. Observers estimated the speed to have been around 85–90mph, possibly higher. At these speeds, the sea effectively becomes concrete and just as unforgiving. Pinot de Pinot by contrast successfully negotiated the wash, leading some observers to point the finger of blame at Colibri’s unconventional design and moreover what they perceived as the crew’s reckless approach to a dangerous situation.
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