/ 
A visit to the local farmer provided us with the hull?in this case, a magnificent tractor inner tube?whose shape foreshadowed the bow of a semi-scow.
The deck is installed after salvaging a plywood plank (not marine-grade, of course). The hull and deck are connected by four galvanized wires, the ends of which will cut your foot the first chance they get.
After a project meeting, we decided on a design for a ?modern? junk rig. I sacrificed the two brooms from the house to make the spars, which I painted navy blue for aesthetic reasons. I cut a roughly square cotton sail out of an old box spring that was destined for the trash.
Eager to comply with the law, I attach a license plate made of pine paneling, on which I proudly inscribe the Maritime Affairs District (Brest, of course), followed by my date of birth. A French flag, faded by the Breton sun, takes its place on the transom.
Safety on board is ensured by a paddle, an anchor consisting of a piece of rope and a rock, and the skipper is equipped with a breathable life jacket without a hood.
Finally, my first ship is named "Max," and the lettering is done freehand with white paint.
We launch the boat during the ebb tide, with a very light breeze blowing from the land. Contrary to expectations, the mast doesn't stand on its own. No big deal?I'll hold it in my hand. Steering isn't a problem, since there's no rudder.
I'm finally sailing my first leg. It'll be the only one on this leg of the race. My mom manages to take a picture with the Kodak film camera before running after me to keep me from being swept away by the current.
Then my boat was turned into a diving platform?an activity that?s much less dangerous. That sums up my earliest memory of the sea.
And you, what's yours?
