How did it all begin?
In the beginning, as a child, I used to go out on the boat with my father. My father is in my first memories of heel boats. Certainly, I have always had a sea-culture; I am Neapolitan, and I have lived in Naples until I was 29. However we can say that I started to go sailing seriously when I arrived in Milan. I got to know the Lega Navale, and I tried to systemise my knowledge. I didn’t even have the concepts: I went along. Then I saw that the more I went on, the more I liked it: I started off on the lake, going adrift, I attended many courses. Then I wanted to build experience in the cabin cruisers, and that’s where the school of Horca Miseria helped me a lot: first as a passenger, then I went on to the instructor course, the licence, and then boat chief. At the same time I tried to go everywhere, to take part in the regattas: with friends I used to go looking for the opportunity to embark, directly on the pier. I was in Caprera for the instructor’s course. I still try to build up experience. I’m not crazy about triangle regattas, but if the opportunity arises... Even at a competition level, I have a past of races, I practiced Judo, in the National team, I was Italian champion; that was my agonistic life, when I wasn’t sailing. Also, being close to the sea, I never really felt the need to compete. Which doesn’t mean I’m not competitive. It’s just not the main reason for my sailing. I like high sea regattas, in the ocean, because there is a very beautiful spirit, where you feel part of a group that must pass some difficulties, independently from competition, from arriving first or second. There is a minimum of competition, but there are other difficulties. Technically they are simpler than the triangles; in high sea regattas everything is slower, there are these nice long rhythms. It is a wonderful feeling.

How is your relationship with the crew? I would imagine that living together on a boat must be quite a delicate situation...
The enormous experience that one can gain, doing this job is the fact of dealing with such different characters in a limited space: you can be lucky or unlucky; in any case it is very difficult. The greatest difficulty is not technical; the problem is managing the crew, managing their holiday. People react in unexpected ways, even in positive, sometimes. I have learnt not to trust my initial instinct, because I have been wrong many times, one way or another.  After a while however, the true nature of the person appears. It is certainly heavy because sometimes, between one crew and the other, you don’t even get half a day for yourself. That’s when relations with others get even tougher. It is a complex job; seen from the outside, one would say: "How nice, how lucky you are, the sea, the boat…”. The environment is beautiful, but it’s certainly not just a bed of roses, as it would look like from the outside.

What about the relationship with nature and the sea? Is there fear, respect, the feeling of contest...?
I don’t see crossings as competition with the sea, it would be absurd. In front of the sea you realise you are nothing; if he sneezes, you cease to exist. There is therefore always a total respect, and this influences the whole preparation of the boat, the way we approach things. I would never sacrifice safety for competition. Also, in these crossings, everybody lives the sensations in their own way. If you speak to someone who has to undertake a crossing, the first thing they fear is boredom. But in truth, that’s the last of worries, both because objectively there is a lot to do, and because you sleep, you rest, but you also have to look after the sailing, and communication. There are various tasks and requirements that need time. Then you look at the waves, the sea, the sky... It is an aspect I am fascinated by. Simply watching the sea, for a long time, without seeing anything, is wonderful: it constantly changes. Then there are some sightings… You realise you are a little dot, there, in the middle. So even something silly – the fact of seeing an airplane, a ship, a very rare occurrence, or something floating – becomes an event. It seems impossible to give it so much weight but in certain conditions things acquire a different value, and the relationship with nature changes. Just like the relationship with the boat changes, and it becomes more than a means of transportation. In a cruise, during a long sailing, you realise your life is tied in with her. All the interventions you carried out to improve the boat are in the view of a possible real need. You have to put the right equipment because afterwards, in the middle of the Ocean, you are alone. The first time I did the crossing, I live through some pretty extreme conditions. We went without a radio (because the VHF is useless), with little food, little water, the boom broke, and the boat was small and nervous… We left without being connected to home; in the name of competition the organisers had sacrificed safety. I lost seven kilos in twenty days, because there was no food; I the end we had to ration sweet water. There were no nautical maps… The experience was beautiful, but I understood that when I would be the one in charge, I would behave differently.

To go sailing, do you need rationality or instinct, or both?
They are things that, by going all the time, you acquire. It is natural that oceanic sailing sharpens certain sensations. Even weather forecasts: now I can sense certain situations, which I wouldn’t be able to foresee before. Some is rational knowledge you acquire, for some the close contact with nature gives us various inputs, details and information that you then process, and you manage to interpret the crisp air, or how the wave moves... There is no method. Rationality is necessary first: you must know what you’re going up against; you cannot afford to underestimate anything. There has to be a compromise: if you rationalise too much, in the end you would never leave, because you cannot think of everything: nobody can give you the certainty that you will get to the other end: so either you give up, or you go for it.

Is it possible to reconcile work as a skipper with subordinate work?
With a normal job no. When I was an employee, I took some very long holidays, even 40 days, I went sailing every weekend. After this I made the choice of abandoning that type of situation, because I couldn’t stand the idea of clocking in and out and submitting to bureaucratic rules, leaves... that’s where I needed a little craziness! There were a series of lucky coincidences: work, in the way it was structured, allowed me to carry on in an independent manner. I succeeded enough to reconcile the two things...

Plans for the future?
I am opening a school, based in Milan with a detachment in the Isola d'Elba. It will be for schools and regattas, rather than sailing holidays; then there will also be a cruise part. We have two First 40.7 and Lady Blues. The Elba is beautiful to sail, too and it was also chosen as a centre for the America’s Cup...