LETTER FROM ROME

For three decades, this grounded sailor was the soul, and the sole inhabitant, of a small Italian desert island. On Budelli, an idyllic rock in the vicinity of a larger island – wild Sardinia – over a long period, Mauro Morandi had created a singular life for himself, watching over the delicate balance of the island's nature, happy to keep his distance from the hum of the world without turning his back on it altogether. He died at the age of 85 on Friday, January 3, having long been celebrated with tenderness for the care he always gave to the fragile ecosystem of the island of pink sands, a world in which he wished his presence to be considered a component in its own right.

Marked with a white beard and edged with sparse hair, his weather-beaten face acquired a certain notoriety, so much so that the story of this singular man – whom we would have liked to turn into a modern Robinson Crusoe with the common touch – had a certain appeal. A native of the earthy province of Modena and a former secondary school teacher who chose to retire at the age of 50, Morandi became a sailor in 1989.

Legend has it that he went into debt with some friends to buy a 16-meter catamaran, with the pipe dream of reaching Polynesia. The group eventually broke up, and Morandi never made it past the Mouths of Bonifacio, the strait separating Corsica from Sardinia, where he had hoped to make a little money from his boat by offering his services to the many wealthy tourists frequenting the region in season. In the Maddalena archipelago, to the north-east of the island, he eventually set foot on Budelli, an island belonging to a private company whose janitor was about to leave his post without being replaced. The new arrival would fit the bill. The sand was soft, the sea blue. Why get lost in the Pacific?

Eccentric half-saint persona

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