The Solo Med is a two-stage solo race starting from Barcelona, with the first leg to Sa Ràpita, a small town on the southwestern coast of Palma de Mallorca. The second leg, 500 miles long, is a slalom around the Balearic Islands — the course changes slightly each edition to adapt to weather conditions.
For me, the 2025 edition was my first solo race. I had just completed the Rome–Barcelona crossing with Andrea Iacopini and hadn’t fully recovered from fatigue and lack of sleep. At the start, I was very stressed — both for the competition and for managing the boat in the middle of the fleet. Even though there were only about ten boats racing, I decided it wasn’t worth risking damage for a perfect start, especially since I didn’t feel at my best.
We left Barcelona in the rain, with forecasts predicting extremely unstable conditions: light winds, storms, and wind shifts. Fortunately, after a couple of hours the sun came out, and we beat upwind until the evening with 8–12 knots of wind. At night, the wind veered left, allowing me to hoist the Code-0 and make up several positions.
At dawn, I was in third place in the Series ranking after a long tacking duel with my friend and rival Matteo Bogliolo. We were rounding Cap Formentor at sunrise when the wind dropped below 5 knots, giving us almost nothing. I tend to tack too early in light air, so to waste a bit of time I decided to have breakfast and go to the bathroom — and just while I was there, on the bucket at the bow (weight balance!), the wind completely died.
We found ourselves in a windless hole in the middle of the bay, while the rest of the fleet passed about a mile offshore. I desperately tried to find a way out, but there was nothing to do: we only started moving again around 11 a.m. when 5 knots from the SE arrived. I crossed the finish line around midnight, six hours behind the leader, with only two boats behind me.
The next two days in Sa Ràpita were relaxed: I slept, walked, swam, and watched many films. I was lucky that the boat had no issues.
On the day of the second start, I woke up late, went for a swim, and collected some plastic from the beach. After the weather briefing, hoisting the sails, and grabbing a bite, we were being towed out of the harbor by 2 p.m. for the 4 p.m. start. I felt much more relaxed this time.
The course was as follows: Sa Ràpita — leave the buoy at Ciutadella de Mallorca to port — leave Cabrera to starboard — round the start buoy — leave Formentera and Ibiza to starboard — leave the main Columbretes island to starboard — finish in Barcelona.
The weather tested us with everything: holes in the wind, shifts, and constant transitions. The scow boats were favored, giving hours of reaching with the spinnaker always flying, gliding over the water and never dropping below 10 knots.
I still have much to improve in light winds and starts — this was a light-wind start. During the night, a southern wind of 12–15 knots came in at the perfect angle for the Code-0. I positioned myself leeward of the fleet for a tighter angle, and it worked: I watched the other boats on the AIS sail slower, and I spent the entire night gaining ground.
Rounding Minorca at dawn, the wind dropped again, so I had a long upwind leg to Cabrera. By late morning, the wind picked up from the east: 16, 18, 20 knots. I hoisted the Maxi spinnaker and continued to close the gap; then, when the wind shifted slightly to the right, tightening the angle, I switched to the Medium. Meter by meter, I was getting closer to the leading boat.
Once I rounded the start buoy again, the wind had stabilized around 23 knots. A very steep, choppy sea dominated the stretch between Palma and Formentera — my first time sailing these conditions on a Mini 6.50. The boat seemed wild: every time I took a break to eat or rest, the autopilot would push her too high on the waves, and I felt we might broach at any moment. But Ramon Ribera, ahead of me, was hitting 13 knots — and I couldn’t be any less. Same boat, but he had three years of experience and I had three months. Head down, finding the right settings and how to play with the waves — and I managed it too.
Another night, another transition. We found ourselves in 6 knots from the west, dead on. Four boats were tacking toward Punta des Far: two Vectors, a Pogo 3, and a Maxi Proto. I left Formentera in third place, less than a mile behind the two in front, but the Maxi was already far ahead.
We were sailing downwind at under 5 knots along Formentera when a thick black convergence cloud appeared to our left. Within five minutes, the two ahead bore off, dropped the spinnaker, and started sailing upwind. They went left, but I couldn’t follow, so I did the opposite: bow toward Ibiza, staying inside the rotation and pushing the boat to the max. When it was time to tack, I found myself four miles behind, chasing my rivals’ sterns. It was tough to stay focused, but I had no choice: with the wind dying, I had to stay sharp.
I kept the AIS on the screen to see what they were doing: I was gaining, they were moving half a knot. I tacked and left them behind. The wind kept veering left, and I had an increasingly better course for the Columbretes.
After lunch, the wind picked up: 20–24 knots, long, soft waves, and I managed to push the boat to 15.5 knots. At night, the wind dropped again. I could already see the lighthouse, but there was a very steep wave from behind and no wind. I hadn’t slept in nearly a day, so I allowed myself a 40-minute nap with the autopilot in compass mode and sails flapping.
I woke up when I felt the boat moving again: wind from the north had arrived, and I resumed tacking among the rocks. I was the first to catch the new wind and positioned myself to cover my opponents. I rounded the island around 4 a.m., among unmarked rocks, relying on GPS points I had set before departure.
After passing the islands, the wind reached 16–17 knots. I had to race to catch the new southeast rotation: I filled empty tanks to increase stability and keep the sails powerful. I already had a 9-mile lead on the chasing group, and gradually I no longer saw them on the AIS.
The wind then dropped, continuing to shift right; I wanted to enter that rotation as much as possible, so instead of staring at the instruments, I took a 20-minute nap. I woke up pointing toward Palma de Mallorca again: eyes barely focusing, I tacked, hoisted the Code, and the wind began to pick up. The sun warmed my skin as I planed at 16 knots close-hauled, increasing the gap.
Then, with nightfall, the wind disappeared: the last 25 miles took 16 hours. A true exercise in patience and concentration; I spent hours trying to stay calm and not fall into a spiral of stress.
I crossed the finish line at 11:45, 18 miles ahead of the rest of the fleet. The thermal wind then filled in behind me, allowing the others to close the gap within a few hours and maintain their positions in the overall ranking.
Final result: third place on the podium. A little frustrating, yes — but it’s part of the game. Despite the final standings being slightly disappointing, I’m very happy with how I performed in my first solo race: managing sleep, food, and weather. I’ll come back stronger next edition!
A huge thank you to everyone supporting the project, especially the Yacht Club Santo Stefano, without whom I wouldn’t be here today.