STILL ABOARD, IN SPIRIT

Peter Valentino takes those who knew the much-respected man for all seasons, Paul Ripard, on a trip down memory lane.

I wish I could say that I knew all the facets of the man but unfortunately I didn’t. I do however feel that I know some that probably few do know, and I think that they are worth a mention. I’m about to write about Paul Ripard, who possibly was one of the most respected persons.

Even though Paul passed away 10 years ago, he comes across my mind so often and I’m most certain that many, who had the pleasure of getting to know him, keep him alive in their memory, just as I do.

Now I remember Paul not as an excellent sailor, but as the excellent sailor. A kind gentleman, a calm character but equally competitive and determined while also being very careful and precise. During his racing days I don’t think Paul ever raced against a fleet; I think he sailed to always better his level and to achieve the best result. I always thought that if Paul lived abroad he’d fit in so well in the Dragon Class, or a true classic like the 6MT Class.

We still see locally built H-Boats around the island. This fleet was one of Paul’s visions, one of his dreams. I must say that up until today, H-Boats are still the most numerous as a fleet, in size. Paul had actually bought a small hand-powered crane to lift boats that weighed less than 3T in those days. Paul’s good intention was that of mounting this on a small concrete platform, for all to use, however the planning board at the time sadly declined his wish.

Paul was, after all, one of the founders of this epic, now world-recognised event. It is all thanks to Paul that this race started and finished in Malta

Over the past decades The Royal Malta Yacht Club made sporadic attempts to select a club boat. We once chose the then newly designed Beneteau 25, while also considering theJ80, but numbers remained weak. None had the success theH-Boat did. I sailed an H-Boat, and I must say, that performing well comes nowhere in pride as close to a compliment I once received from Paul. In those days, the club house was still at Fort Manoel. All races had a morning race on a Sunday morning and an afternoon race after lunch. The idea wasn’t just to have two races in the same day but to attract sailors to the club for lunch. Race control, then run by Olga Grimwood and Christopher de Burgh Codrington, used to set up on the club’s forecourt, in transit with the start/finish line.

After the race, we used to scramble to the club to sign off in our colourful foul weather gear and much to the disgust of the suitably attired expats at the club. Those days the sailing instructions stated that failure to sign off would be an automatic penalty; hence technically our race only ended after signing.

One day I had really outperformed and I remember getting to the club early enough to watch the last of the fleet crossing the line. As I stood there I noticed that Paul, binoculars in hand, was looking at the result sheet. While doing so he asked who was sailing MLT 4 and my heart missed a beat. I thought oh no I had done something wrong. Olga pointed in my direction. Paul, very eloquently, congratulated me on what he called ‘perfect sail setting’. This meant so much to me and of course the discussion went on, indeed onto the posture I took while helming to leeward, and the positioning of the crew and how their weight affected the movement of the boat; hence having a direct effect on speed.

Paul also sat on the Royal Malta Yacht Club’s committee. We had our preferred seats and for a three-year period we always sat next to each other. I can remember two events - one being that as soon as the discussion veered from racing he’d wonder off; flip the agenda around and sketch in pencil - and the other, on a lighter note was that at times his hearing aid would begin to whistle, to the point where I’d nudge him ever so slightly and rotate my finger and I still remember the gentle smile, not only on his lips but the way he smiled through his eyes.

Those committee meetings must have been the most boring part of the day for him, and not just because 75% of the time was consumed discussing the catering for the next prize giving ceremony, but because even gazing at the stars would be more interesting.

Finding sponsors during those days was really hard, substantiated by the fact, in retrospect, that we really didn’t know how to approach potential sponsors. Whenever we ran out of time, Paul always intervened; not only generously but happily. The decision used to just happen, while he would be sketching away!

I suppose Paul’s fortune was the year he was born in; an era where you dictated your pace of life; and not the other way around. Several of us surely remember Paul at the chandlery, or upstairs in his office. I remember his office; up the stairs, on the left and his desk all the way in on the left. He always had time for people and social visits. I remember driving past Ta’ Xbiex seafront and looking out for Paul in one of two places; either sitting on his chair, reading behind the glass window; or aboard Amica, his boat, berthed across the road from his house. Paul rightfully believed that the longer you kept a boat, the more you got to know and love her. Dora please note!

I remember the run-up to the first Middle SeaRace of the second era, way before it was christened again as the Rolex Middle Sea Race. He knew the sea was a friend of the wind, he knew the boat so well and to him she was second nature. Needless to say, yet again, he was aboard the winning boat and as we say every year he’s still aboard, in spirit.

Paul was, after all, one of the founders of this epic, now world recognised event. It is all thanks to Paul that this race started and finished in Malta, as President Emeritus Guido De Marco wrote: ‘The Politics of Persuasion’; indeed this gift also belonged to Paul; that of eloquently presenting his thoughts, to a point where he could persuade. I keep saying to myself; what a sailor, what a mind and what a great man; and how humble he was throughout his journey.

Then came the long days spent in the garage at the back of his house - a space as large as a warehouse in which Paul spent many hours in, sometimes alone, others accompanied and always with a Mars bar somewhere within reach. That garage was the birthplace of what possibly is his masterpiece, a beautiful boat, made out of timbre; or maybe I should have said, perfectly built.

This however didn’t tarnish his long cruises with Dora aboard ‘Amica’. No way would he give those up. His idea of cruising was to get as much speed out of the wind and the sea as possible. He loved to be afloat but he would make the best out of the conditions. While at anchor or in a marina well, it was then down to his colours and drawing pad because Paul was also an artist. The drawings he produced at the back of the agenda during meetings were a mere study in pencil!

One last thing, Paul sailed clear, he tacked away, he sailed fast and well. One day I was asked to hear a protest. I didn’t ask the secretary, then Marlene Cefai, about the details of the protestor/s. When I got to the club, I noticed Paul was looking at the view from the forecourt and another sailor was in the bar. Never did I think that Paul was involved in an incident. Well, he was. He was there because it was being protested that he did not complete his penalty turns.

Both parties walked up the stairs and into the room and Paul, in an apologetic way claimed that he didn’t complete his two turns’ penalty.

Now, somebody else would have tried to go around it and say there was no reason to take the penalty turns in the first place but Paul, in his usual way, calmly told us he did one turn instead of two. This is the person who hardly ever shouted ‘Starboard’ and claimed rights, except if he was on the last leg of a race and that would have given him the certainty of winning. It happened! This is a person who you’d never hear across the water, the person who would tap the side of the boat rather than shout out. He’s the person who preferred to talk about a situation rather than drag his opponent into the protest room.

I join the many who miss Paul, and a decade later we still have so much to learn from this kind, humble and meticulous person. He was respected for all of the above, and so much more.