More than 6,000 people have summited Everest. Four hundred and ninety-eight have been to space. Yet only eighty-four sailors have ever completed the Vendée Globe.
Dubbed the “Everest of the Seas,” this race is unmatched in difficulty. It’s a solo, non-stop circumnavigation of the globe, with no outside assistance, forcing skippers to navigate the infamous three capes: Good Hope, Leeuwin, and Horn.
The race began humbly in 1989 with just a handful of pioneers. This year, on November 10, forty skippers—men and women—departed from the port of Les Sables-d’Olonne in Vendée. For this milestone 10th edition, Blind goes behind the lens with the race’s official photographers: Jean-Louis Carli, Anne Beaugé, Vincent Curutchet, Jean-Marie Liot, Mark Lloyd, and Olivier Blanchet. Handpicked by Arnaud Letrésor, the Vendée Globe’s head of photography, these six photographers come from diverse backgrounds but share one mission: to immortalize this extraordinary human and sporting odyssey through their images.
The big takeoff
“Usually, to break the tension on board, I’d say, ‘It’s not the World Cup.’ But this time, it really is the World Cup!” Tossed around at the stern of the launch, Jean-Louis Carli wipes his lens just in time for the countdown to crackle over the VHF: “5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Top start for the Vendée Globe!” “Let’s go, guys, let’s get ahead of the fleet!” At 1:02 p.m. on November 10, after the emotional spectacle of the skippers passing through the channel at Les Sables-d’Olonne, the Vendée Globe 2024 officially began.
Carli navigates the boat like an acrobat—perched on top, crouched at the bow, sprawled out in the stern—three waterproofed cameras slung at his side: a 400mm, a 70-200mm, and a 24-70mm. Around him, the scene is pure chaos. Helicopter blades whir low between the masts. Zodiacs weave deftly among the Imoca yachts—the sleek, 18-meter racing sailboats about to embark on their three-month journey around the globe. The seas churn, waves slap against hulls, and tension fills the air. In this joyful madness, concentration is everything.
“Get in front of the bow—there, that’s perfect!” “You’re way too far back now!” “Three-quarters astern to line up with the other boats!” Directions fly fast and furious as Carli, the co-pilot, and the pilot choreograph their movements. “I can’t get the silhouette!” Carli mutters, sprinting to the front of the boat for a better angle. Even with calm seas, the frame dips and sways—each swell, each ripple must be anticipated to keep the subject in the viewfinder. “Hold still, I’m close to the water,” Carli says, flattening himself to capture the sails skimming the ocean’s surface. “Damn, the lens got soaked!” Sometimes, with thousands of euros’ worth of gear on the line, it’s better to play it safe than push for the perfect shot.
“Sometimes, it feels like you’re photographing ghost ships”
When everything lines up, these 60-foot monohulls, with a draft of 4.50 m, launched by a 29-meter mast and weighing around 8 tons, offer a striking spectacle. Prototype of the IMOCA class (International Monohull Open Class Association) founded in 1991, each model has its own identity, its own lines. The result of a battle of architects, these sea beasts grab knot after knot with each new edition and impress with their profile. The bows become less pointed, more raised, rounded and “tulip-shaped”, the foils – these large mustaches arranged on each side of the hull – make the mass of the new generation models take off several meters out of the water and will last the game of line and the crazy aesthetic of these sailboats which can reach 40 knots downwind (74 km/h). Will the world tour record be broken this year? It is still held by skipper Armel Le Cléac’h in 74 days 03 hours and 35 minutes achieved during the 2016 edition. Jules Verne is already one time behind.
The wind hasn’t arrived yet. A dead calm. These Formula 1s of the seas are stuck in the pits. “Let’s go for something more human,” Carli suggests. He begins to interact with the sailors, all waiting for Aeolus to wake. “What fascinates me most is the human element,” he says. Inspired by the work of Magnum photographers like Trent Parke and Alex Webb, Carli lives by Webb’s motto: “organize chaos.” This means staying mobile and getting close, even as the sea tosses him around. Photographing at sea demands not just a steady hand, but a strong stomach.
But is there even a sailor on board anymore? These streamlined yachts, with their carbon hulls, seem to swallow their crew. “Sometimes, it feels like you’re photographing ghost ships,” Carli admits. Lines, bowsprits, and rigging often obstruct the sailors’ faces, and “the perfect shot often slips right past your nose.”
Whether aboard a zodiac, speedboat, or helicopter, nailing the perfect frame is no easy task. “The biggest challenge is relying on the pilot of the zodiac or helicopter,” Carli explains. “You always wish they could read your mind. The pilot plays a massive role in whether or not you get the shot.”
Nose in the viewfinder
Whether stationed on the pontoons for the final farewells, in the channel amid waves of applause, at sea, or in the air, every team member has a precise role: to capture the perfect moment and send their photos instantly to Médias HQ and Arnaud Letrésor, the team’s coordinator.
The day of the race is tense for everyone. Olivier Blanchet is no newcomer to the Vendée Globe, but the veteran photographer knows that “it’s a big day for us too. We need to work as a team, motivating each other—kind of like a band before going on stage.”
“From the speed of our edits to the smallest gestures, everything is immediate now”
From the early hours of departure day, the pressure is on to feed social media and provide partners with images as fast as possible. “We’re transmitting from sea, land, and air. First, we send out a quick selection, and later, we process more images once we’re back. But we have to provide a live set right away to get things rolling,” explains Olivier Blanchet. “From the speed of our edits to the smallest gestures, everything is immediate now.”
At the stern of a speeding launch heading toward the front of the fleet, Jean-Louis Carli has his eye glued to the electronic viewfinder of his Nikon. “You’re peering through the viewfinder, quickly reviewing the images you just shot, transmitting them—and sometimes, when you finally look up, the photo you wanted is gone…”
Jean-Marie Liot recalls covering his first Vendée Globe back when digital photography was still in its infancy, and film ruled the day. “With E6 film, you’d inevitably miss some shots, but it made you focus on capturing really beautiful ones. I worked with Velvia,” he says. “At regattas, we’d send film bags by train and hand them off to someone heading to Paris.”
Times have changed. Cameras have evolved. The pace of the media world has only accelerated. Arnaud Letrésor, the Vendée Globe’s head of photography and founder of Aléa Production, now receives all the images “straight off the truck.” “Everything comes to the FTP server, and we process it as quickly as possible so that everyone can use it right away,” he explains. He adds with a wry smile, “These days, I don’t even get to see the start in person anymore.”
“Stadium on the water”
Does the immediacy of capturing the moment still allow photographers to feel the emotion? “Even when you’re caught up in the action—the noise of the helicopter, the boats below, giving directions, adjusting for the light, anticipating the perfect frame—it’s worth taking a minute or two to put the camera down and soak it all in,” admits Jean-Marie Liot.
Ask any of them, and they’ll tell you the same: whether it’s your first Vendée Globe or your fifth, even in the chaos of live coverage, the emotion—and sometimes the tears—will catch up with you eventually. “You have to imagine a kind of stadium on the water,” says Anne Beaugé. A former graphic designer who used to split her time between Paris and New York, Beaugé transitioned to photography and fell head over heels for offshore racing. Joining the photography team this year, she’s already familiar with the powerful emotions stirred by “this incredible outpouring of popular joy.”
“Every inch of space is taken—people are at windows, clinging to lampposts, standing on car roofs…”
Picture it: half a million people packed along the sea walls, 14,000 boats on the water, all ready to follow the racers as they set off. “It’s like a giant guard of honor,” says Olivier Blanchet, “and the emotions are overwhelming in that moment.”
Even after photographing multiple starts and finishes, Vincent Curutchet is still moved by the scenes on the pontoons as skippers say their final goodbyes to loved ones—hugs, kisses, and tight embraces. “Some are crying; others are too choked up to speak. And then, all of a sudden, you see it in the sailor’s eyes—they’ve already gone somewhere else.”
For Mark Lloyd, renowned for his epic photos of skipper Alex Thomson, these moments are one-of-a-kind. The Brit runs his fingers along his arm to mimic the chills he feels every time he witnesses the “always intense” journey up the channel at Les Sables-d’Olonne. “Every inch of space is taken—people are at windows, clinging to lampposts, standing on car roofs… Even though we’re working under pressure, there’s always a moment when it hits you just how lucky you are to be here. The emotion builds, and you think to yourself, ‘This has to be shown.’”
“And then, all of a sudden, you see it in the sailor’s eyes—they’ve already gone somewhere else.”
In the belly of the beast
When they’re not in the air, on land, or at sea, the photographers are deep in the belly of the beast, alongside the sailors, battered by wave after wave of seawater. “This is where the real magic happens,” says Jean-Louis Carli. “It’s insanely intense, exhilarating, and completely physical.”
“It’s like being on a motocross track inside a carbon Ferrari”
Onboard Reporter Anne Beaugé has made this her specialty. The unique aspect of this role is that the photographer doubles as a crew member during team races. If she does not have the right to participate in maneuvers on board and in anything that directly concerns performance, she is required, in addition to taking images, to take care of the communication systems or of water and food supplies. It’s a delicate balance of being helpful when needed and invisible when the moment demands. “You have to anticipate maneuvers, understand how the boat will react to a particular tack, wind, or wave, and then capture the best possible images,” she explains.
On these high-speed racing machines, which lift out of the water on foils and hit top speeds of 40 knots (74 kph), discomfort is a given. Photographers often shoot with one hand while clinging to the boat with the other. “Living inside an Imoca means existing in an extremely confined space on a racing boat that accelerates violently and decelerates just as suddenly. It’s like being on a motocross track inside a carbon Ferrari,” says Beaugé, who does everything “not to flutter four meters into the forward bulkhead, crushing both my camera gear and the electronic system.”
“Every time we’re out on the water and get absolutely drenched, I think to myself, ‘What am I even doing here?’” jokes Vincent Curutchet. “You end up on all fours, just like the skipper, but then he’s the one cooking for you—or vice versa. For someone like me who thrives on adrenaline behind the lens, when you combine that rush with getting the perfect shot, there’s no better feeling.”
“People call it the Everest of the Seas, but I think it’s even tougher than climbing Everest”
Mark Lloyd highlights the human connections forged during the race. “I think these sailors are some of the most incredible people you’ll ever meet. Physically and mentally, they’re extraordinary. This isn’t like any other race. People call it the Everest of the Seas, but I think it’s even tougher than climbing Everest.”
In less than three months, as Arnaud Letrésor processes the photos sent by skippers during the race, the team of photographers will reunite in the euphoria of the first arrivals. It’s a completely different kind of emotion—the relief of families, the shared jubilation of the crowds, the same from first to last—and the joy of welcoming back these astronauts of the seas, returning from another world.
Coming up in Episode 2: We’ll explore the stories behind the iconic images that have shaped the legend of the Vendée Globe. Stay tuned…
