comforts or decorations, just the basic controls

and instruments needed. Nothing fancy, just

the tools you want to get on with the job. I

like that.

Steering the boat away from the dock, I could

feel every ripple of the water punching the hull.

There was none of the suspension you would

have on a car or a motorbike to iron out the

bumps. It was more like riding a soap-box cart

down a cobbled street. Building up speed, the

buffeting was even more violent, with harder

thumps coming less frequently as the sponsons

smashed through the waves. Then, as if by

magic, the sponsons rose clear of the water, the

noise levels dropped dramatically and the ride

was suddenly very smooth. I had that cushion

of air beneath me and I was flying across the

surface of Chasewater.

The buoy where I had to turn was in my

sights in no time at all. I couldn’t use all of

the controls that Jonathan did to move the

outboard up, down, forwards or backwards

– I had to be content with easing back on the

throttle. It had the same effect in that the

twin hulls dropped down into the water, and

when I turned the wheel to round the buoy the

boat reacted like a whiplash. I had never felt

anything like it. I turned through 180° – a full

about turn – in a fraction of a second. Nothing I

had ever ridden or driven on dry land, whatever

the tyres or the road surface, had ever reacted

like that. In turns, F1 powerboat drivers have to

cope with huge g-forces in the turns (anything

up to about 6.5g). That’s more than a Spitfire

pilot experienced in a tight turn during the

Battle of Britain – and they used to black out.

Turning a vehicle at speed produces centrifugal

force that throws the occupants to the

outside of the turn, just as being on a spinning

roundabout will tend to push you to its outer

edge. A Spitfire pilot’s head, because he had

banked the aircraft to make it turn, was closer

to the turning circle than his feet, so the

centrifugal force sent the blood from his upper

body outwards towards his feet, starving his

brain of oxygen and causing him to black out

for an instant until the aeroplane levelled out.

Fortunately for me, the Dragon boat didn’t

bank into the turn, so the blood wasn’t drained

from my head, although I was slammed against

the side of the cockpit and was grateful for

the crash helmet I was wearing. The turn

was also completed far more quickly than the

banking turn of a Spitfire, so my body really

had no time to react to the immense g-force I

was experiencing. Safe to say it fairly took my

breath away and left me with a whopping great

grin on my face! Round the buoy, power on

and I was quickly floating on air again. What

a machine! I really didn’t want to have to hand

it back …

Watching from dry land, the Sealander lads

were enjoying the spectacle. When I joined

them for a chat, Graham pointed out that,

while Charlie’s design for the planing surface

would do its best to lift the Suzuki out of the

water, I wasn’t going to be as aerodynamic

as the sleek Dragon boat. The air cushion

effect, if it could be achieved at all with such a

small planing surface on the Suzuki, would be

minimal – but I would hopefully feel that ultra-

smooth ride effect when it was all working

according to plan.

flying across the water   175