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Outside Magazine April 2002

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The Big Idea: CASE STUDY #1: Adventure Sells
Bull Market

THE ORGANIZER OF the "Cuba crossing" was Gilles d'Andrieux, a dashing 32-year-old Frenchman who looked very much at ease in neatly pressed pants, a powder-blue dress shirt, and suede shoes as he strolled across the sands of Miami Beach to greet his team. He'd brought chicken and tuna sandwiches for everyone. Neil Hutchinson diligently picked all the olives and avocado off his as Gilles explained his plan for arriving in Key West before sunset. As it turned out, the sun was almost down before Gilles had finished rounding up his 22-person crew and getting us on the road.

The crew's fabulousness quotient was high. There was Gabriela Marques, 25, a Brazilian nutritionist who looked like a model. There was Fabrice Collard, a 28-year-old Frenchman who would serve as the expedition meteorologist—and who also would be one of the kiteboarders. There was Delio Gonzalez, one of the boat captains, who seemed to speak about four languages.

Gilles is based in Miami, where he operates as a freelance extreme athlete and event organizer. Over a period of two months he had lined up the support boats and crews, monitored the weather, dealt with U.S. Customs (there was endless red tape, which ended with the team promising not to spend any money in Cuba), made arrangements with a Cuban marina, and generally kept all the moving parts in sync. After the traffic-delayed, five-hour drive to Key West, I caught a ride with him and some film-crew guys to a bar called Finnegan's Wake, where everyone was supposed to gather for dinner around 9:30. But we were late, we hadn't found the bar, and Gilles, who was behind the wheel, was starting to seem like that rarest of things: a tense Frenchman.

"Excuse me," he asked passersby on the street. "Do you live in Key West? Where is Grinnell Street?"

As we searched, he squinted through the windshield at flags and other wind indicators. The latest round of weather data had suggested that the wind might not be strong enough for a launch the next day. But now Gilles was guessing it would gust at 15 knots in the morning—good enough. "If that flag is blowing straight out, we should go," he said.

When we finally made it to Finnegan's Wake, everyone was there, including the crew, Red Bull marketing reps, and 35-year-old Paul Menta, the fifth and final kiteboarder and owner of a company that offers kitesurfing lessons in Florida, Maui, and Venezuela. Menta had kite-surfed in 93 locations around the world in the past year, most recently in Venezuela, where he'd suffered severe stomach flu. Three months earlier he'd been bitten by a shark. We shook hands. I asked him how he felt.

"Ah, I'm fine," he said, looking tired. "I'll be fine tomorrow." Extreme! But he didn't sound convinced.

Ultimately, Red Bull officials decided to postpone the launch for one more day. The next morning, the little breakfast room of the Key West Comfort Inn was made over into Command Central, with a laminated map taped to the wall. Gilles arrived and led everyone through the basics. The 88-mile trip was expected to last eight hours, touching down on the coast 100 miles east of Havana. Winds on launch morning would likely gust to 20 knots or better. He went over elaborate safety procedures concerning support boats, flares, life vests, two-way radios, and the like. Just in case these didn't help, Red Bull covered its bases on the liability front, giving everyone forms to sign that contained blame-shifters like: "I agree that upon my transport to any medical facility or hospital, Red BullÉshall not have any further responsibility for me."

Jen Klaassen, a Red Bull rep, added that if the athletes wanted to drink a can of Red Bull now and then as they crossed, that was just fine, but they should balance it with equal amounts of water to avoid dehydration, since Red Bull's caffeine is a diuretic. "Red Bull, water, Red Bull, water," she said.

To which Neil, the heavy-smoking Brit, added: "And on the way back, it's Red Bull, vodker, Red Bull, vodker." A lot of people laughed, but the Red Bull contingent only smiled.

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