I rediscovered romance, and all it took was a trip to France. But not in the way you're thinking-no moonlit walk along the River Seine, no chance encounter in a Provence bistro, nor at the beach on the Riviera. It came to me in a factory. I learned to appreciate RIBs a few years ago after some extended helm time on a Zodiac Pro Open. It was safe and stable, and it comfortably handled anything I threw at it. It was a good boat. So good that I began taking its unusual qualities for granted, never giving a thought to how these unique craft are put together-or where. That is, until I made the trip to Toulouse, where Zodiac constructs the tubes for its RIBs, and Bordeaux, where its fiberglass hulls are molded. It's there I found a deeper appreciation for what lies beneath a RIB's soft surface. And it is there I fell in love with a dream that I'm not sure will ever be fulfilled. But maybe you can help.
Tempted in Toulouse I pull into Toulouse on the fast train. The city, the fourth largest in France, sits on the banks of the Garonne River in the Southwest region. While it has plenty of old-world charm, it is the European capital of the new-the Toulouse Space Center is the largest in Europe. Airbuses are built here. So the area, packed with engineering types, is the logical place for Zodiac to produce the technologically advanced tubes (or "collars") for its RIBs. The collar is the heart of a RIB, the most important part and what separates it from a conventional boat. It gives the RIB extra buoyancy and stability. When motoring through rough seas, it helps absorb the impact, and when coming alongside, it cushions the blow. The abuse one takes is incredible. Yet, I envisioned them being built in a low-tech way, holding in my mind the image of French maidens in frocks cutting and gluing large swatches of rubbery fabric. Mon Dieu, was I mistaken. I'm greeted by Michel Duplantier, one of the world's foremost experts on RIB construction. "We build a boat here every five minutes," he says, as he ushers me through an assemblage of automated machines that would please a Detroit auto executive. Duplantier then takes me past racks with hanging sheets of PVC (polyvinyl chloride). Zodiac has a preference for PVC, which in another form is the same plastic used to make pipes. Most competitors use Hypalon, which is made from polyethylene. Yet Zodiac chooses PVC for its high-tensile strength (6,500 psi), good UV resistance, and most important, its ability to be welded. Hypalon, which is touted by most RIB builders to be better than PVC, must be glued. This means that the parts to be joined always remain as separate components, held together by a chemical bond. But when you weld PVC, the separate sheets become as one and are less likely to come apart. There are two types of welding: thermal and radio frequency (RF). In thermal welding (Zodiac calls it "thermo bonding") the fabric is fed into a machine, which uses hot air to join together two sealing strips on the fabric, melting the strips into the material to create an air- and water-tight seal. The finished seam is structurally stronger than the fabric itself. In RF the parts are joined by using a high-frequency (13MHz to 100MHz) electromagnetic field. There's an anode and cathode on opposite sides, and power is applied. The heat from the rapidly changing electric field forms the weld.
I watch as workers feed gray PVC fabric through the welding process in the first steps of forming the tubes. Technically interesting, but not exactly exciting to watch. So my eyes wander. That's when I first notice the red. Off to the side is a pile of fabric that looks different from the rest, and it's not just its color.
