I am a fan of Richard Branson. I picked up his new book, Business Stripped Bare, at Heathrow airport last week not because I fancy myself as a big businessman, but because I like his style, both of writing and how he has lived his life. Here in the US there is a lot of talk about being a maverick; Branson is a maverick and the people who set off to race around the world in small boats are, for the most part, mavericks.
I bring up Branson because he just made sailing news aboard the 100-foot supersled Virgin Money (real name Speedboat, renamed Virgin Money as Branson and two of his children are paying the bills, but that is an aside). Virgin Money (sounds like an oxymoron to me) is an engineering masterpiece of carbon fiber and just about every other kind of exotic material money can buy in order to to make the boat light, powerful, and by extension, fast. For those of us who find this kind of self-indulgent opulence a modern day version of high art, it warms our hearts and I, for one, love it when billionaires choose to spend their money on a fast sailboat rather than a dull painting to hang on a wall.
Branson and his two grown children joined Virgin Money in New York to ready for an attempt on the west-east transatlantic record. It’s a tough one to beat: 6 days, 17 hours, 52 minutes and 39 seconds, set by the 140-foot Mari Cha IV in 2003. In order to have any chance you need a few things to go right. You need to leave ahead of a front that you hope will carry you well out into the Atlantic and then hook into other systems that will slingshot you across an imaginary finish line off Lizard Point, the most South Westerly point of the UK.
The team that included the best money can buy had a realistic chance of breaking the record providing they didn’t break the boat. Unfortunately they broke the boat. Well not the boat exactly, but the mainsail, a critical piece of kit. The sail was damaged to the point where continuing the record attempt would have been pointless so they took a hard right and headed for the tropical sanctuary of Bermuda. What a contrast. From the cold, gray windswept North Atlantic to the pink sands of paradise. Not a bad consolation prize.
So, I like Richard Branson. I respect and admire anyone who takes life by the horns and lives it to the fullest. That doesn’t mean we all have to be billionaire adventurers. We can all, in our own way, make a statement about who we are and how we want to live the three score and ten years allotted to us on this planet. Which brings me back to my race, the Portimão Global Ocean Race. The 10 sailors who put their lives on hold to show up in Portimão and race around the world are all mavericks in their own way. Over the next few months we will come to understand their motivations, their passion for life and how they view the experience. I hope that they impart just a little of their guts and determination to the rest of us.
October 26, 2008 at 4:25 pm |
Hi Brian,
Just wanted to say how I enjoyed your post on Richard Branson.
I’m afraid I haven’t read any of his books; business isn’t something I particularly interested in. However I’m now tempted to try Business Stripped Bare.
You say that in the US he is regarded as a maverick, I’m afraid that here in the UK that is perhaps the most kindly epithet applied to him. And I suspect that there will be quite a few gloating over the damage to his boat and the postponement of the record attempt.
I suspect a lot of it is down to what the Australians call the tall poppy syndrome, envy. Perhaps there is also a feeling that a successful businessman should be sober suited with a short hair cut, and certainly shouldn’t be seen to be enjoying himself.
Anyway, at least I know that I’m not the only one looking forward to him getting the boat repaired an breaking the record.
Mike.
PS I’m also following the Portimão race from mu armchair and the Volvo and I will be following the Vendee.