F-1 in H2O: The Need For Speed

The following is an article I wrote for PowerBoat Magazine in the 1990s. It's a humorous look at the most physic-defying boats on the water; F1 tunnel boats and why my "No Fear" sticker expired.

F-1 IN H20
The Need For Speed​

BOATING FROM BEHIND THE BUBBLE...

Sliding into the cockpit of a Formula One Grand Prix Tunnel Boat is the equivalent of squeezing back in to your mother's womb. It's not really hard if you’re bare naked, but with a full body dry suit, life preserver, helmet, and your stomach packed with butterflies, it's tighter than a wetsuit after Thanksgiving.

A little voice in your head tells you not worry... you won't push this boat hard enough to get into trouble and you've got more experience than most guys getting their first shot at driving a champ boat. That little voice turns out to be the boat's owner via the com set who has owned and driven just about anything that goes fast on water. He promotes his business by racing on the F1 Grand Prix Tunnel Boat circuit. In between those schedules, he rides dirt bikes with me in our futile attempt to recapture our youth and an unwritten pact to never grow up.

"The steering wheel is the round thing in the middle" he informs. I acknowledge with my strategic gesture greeting. I'm scanning the dash for familiar dials like the altimeter, artificial horizon, Loran... you know, all the instrumentation you'll need for flight. "Where's the ejection handle?" I asked. "It's between your legs" he replies. ‘Nuff said.

Now sitting in a boat with black motor behind me is nothing new, but having an F-16 canopy hit me in the head when closing... certainly is! The cockpit is so tight you have to pray NOT to get an itch! There is a strange sense of false security from "behind the bubble". All is quiet, except for the gentle slapping of lake chop against the hull...or is that my heart? As I look around the cockpit, the amenities are non-existent. No cooler, no suntan lotion, just an evolved pattern of stringers and bulkheads. The hull is made of wood, that's right, good old low-tech wood. The technology progresses rapidly above the waterline. The deck is composite, mostly Kevlar, with a combination of Balsa Core, Divinycell, Carbon Graphite structural support and then...that greenhouse effect canopy. There’s something fundamentally wrong about boating from behind a Fighter Jet's window.

A Champ boat’s hull design is earthbound rocket science at its best. The hull may float, but it was designed to fly. Water is used for drag... an essential ingredient in handling and braking. Given the amount of wetted surface available for both of these roles, it does a remarkable job. The footprint, or the amount of hull in the water when cornering, as opposed to high-speed stretches is a dramatic contrast. Driving this boat at top speed is as close as anybody will come to flying... short of FAA licensing.

Formula One Tunnel Boats are a strange breed of cat. They should be solely responsible for the adage... "Go fast & turn left", because there is nothing on earth that can rival their ability to turn. I recently test drove a Dodge Viper GTS. This car possesses one of the best lateral "G" slalom capabilities of any production car in the world, but it's merely a Yugo in comparison to a Champ boat. An MRI scan would probably reveal starboard organ alignment for most Champ boat drivers.

Driving a Champ Boat is a full time job. Your hands are frantically working the wheel while your thumbs are trying to find the trim buttons, your right foot is throttling (and occasionally searching for a brake pedal) while your left foot is bracing your body in case of impact. Now toss in wind, waves, competitors, lines, rooster tails, buoys, and impending thoughts of disaster, compounded by acceleration, deceleration and lateral G forces that completely absorb desperately needed cerebral fluids... and you've just experienced the waterborne equivalent to the Vulcan mind melt.

EXTREME VELOCITY ON H2O...

Firing up a Merc 2.5 EFI-F1 motor is much like igniting a controlled explosion. Forget shifting gears, you only have one... fast forward. With 340 horsepower at your disposal, your need for speed hormones are in an uproar. These Hi-Pro outboards sound deceivingly mundane when idling, but as the RPM’s come into the power spectrum, the resonance inside the cockpit is your wake-up call. The emanating sound is not only the motor, but also the craft, as the hard-mounted outboard transmits vibration into a light, insulation-free structure, demonstrating the real value of good helmet insulation. The shriek of these motors from a spectator’s standpoint could instantly unite lobbyists.

Coming on plane is a little slower than expected, as these boats are propped for speeds in the 35 to 135 mph range. Hole shot is important to the first buoy, but its operational speed throughout the race is equally vital. For comparative example... champ boats acceleration through the 1/4 mile is several tenths BETTER than a Dodge Viper, yet the prop on a champ boat lacks a good bite up to 35 mph, unlike the Viper, which compresses you with torque off the line. Do the math and you'll have a good idea what a Naval pilot experiences during a catapult launch when the prop hooks up. Acceleration, in any shape or form, is wonderful drug.

Within seconds I'm over 100 mph and approaching the first buoy. I'm reluctant to commence any steering input exceeding a fraction of an inch at this speed. I set up for the pre-turn, lower the trim (deceleration is mind boggling), commence the turn and WHAM! My head is planted against the canopy with no hope of removing it! I straighten the wheel, collect my senses, nail the throttle, trim up and PRESTO, I'm at the next buoy, but most of my “gray matter” is still at the last one.

At this speed... things happen fast. By the time you spot a buoy, you may have passed it. The owner chimes in over the comset. "Nice pre-turn hot-shot, now let's pick up the pace a little and this time... go AROUND the buoy, not OVER it!" I explained this was a manatee avoidance tactic.

Down the backstretch I'm going faster than I've ever been in any boat and I've been in my share of ‘em. The speedo's bouncing all over the place. Wait, it's my head bouncing all over the cockpit. As the chop decreases, it smooths out and I’m beginning to enjoy what I love more than anything else... extreme velocity on H2O. The boat feels "flighty", but I'm used to that from previous girlfriends. It’s the ultimate adrenaline rush, crossing the threshold between hydro and aerodynamics, but it’s smoother and more stable than I anticipated. At this point, I released several indications of pure unadulterated excitement (your basic locker room stuff). But the stability I experienced is misleading. There was very little wind and I did not have to contend with chop from competing boats. Toss in these factors... and stability is not a word to be used in conjunction with these boats. Insanity is a word more befitting.

Frankly, one could really enjoy this power, if it were strapped to a hull large enough to accommodate your significant other. Suffice to say... one ride in this boat... and her reproductive capabilities would be questionable. Personally, when I’m having this much fun, I’ll leave the procreational activities director behind.

I turned several laps to feel-out the boat: how it responded to trim, steering reaction, tracking around buoys, and generally... getting up to speed. You see, when the little needle on the “fun meter” is pointing to numbers like 120, 130 & 140 mph... you proceed with caution. After a few laps I was ready to pick up the pace and be verbally pushed by that little voice over the comset through the course. The fun's over at each buoy as you grunt your way around turns because the lateral G forces rival the longitudinal forces of a fighter jet, literally demanding more physical exertion than dislodging beached mammals.

After many more laps I was having trouble concentrating. Worse than this... it appeared the hull was taking on water, because my pants felt wet! As it turns out, they were... from perspiration. My head was unclear from dehydration (the full body suit) and being enclosed behind a canopy in typical South Florida heat. Worse yet...I think I lost my mind... because no man in his right mind would get into one of these boats short of a professional athlete’s salary. I headed back to the ramp to cool down, collect my thoughts, replay the videotape and observe the pit crew laugh at me while I wobbled around the boat ramp.

VIRTUAL REALITY CHECK...

Much to my surprise, my lines around the course were not bad, but my lap times were way off. You see, videotape has an absurd way of destroying your perception of reality. Case in point... I felt as though my final laps were approaching the full potential of this craft, and just maybe... I had the “Right Stuff”. NOT!! I had so much hull in the water down the stretches that tugboat operators were waiting to berth me.

Commencing buoy turns at this speed presents quite a dilemma. When you're exceeding 100 mph with less than 12" separating your glutamous maximus from the surface of the water, the thought of trimming down is parallel to locking up the brakes...while being followed by a trucking convoy. Trimming down at this speed clearly explains why the seats are equipped with a 5 point restraining harness; it’s not to protect you, it’s to keep your body from hurdling forward through time and space because the deceleration factors render automotive brakes obsolete!

An hour later we splashed the boat with a fresh tank of fuel and I slipped back into the Eskimo suit. This time I felt more comfortable, with the exception of needing to eliminate a large flask of Gatorade. I can now fully appreciate the anxiety of a delayed Apollo mission. After seeking much needed relief, I returned to the ramp to find the owner and his back-up boat ready to play follow the leader (which was his way of getting even with me for roosting him on the motocross track). I've always respected him. He's a sharp businessman, a good father and a genuinely nice person, but somehow I felt this was about to change. To say... he beat me is an understatement. He smoked me like a Cigarette. Now I didn't take this personally, he was just doing his job, but competition breeds confidence and mine was building. My speeds increased, my turns were tighter, and my pants... were a little dryer.

I encountered one instance that called for immediate prayer, followed by a reflection on my priorities. While following closely after exiting a turn, I got into his roost. This in itself was not alarming, just blinding for a moment. I proceeded to accelerate and trim up, but the bow kept climbing much further than expected. You see... the hull develops lift from air velocity passing underneath it, but develops even more lift when that same air is water-dense (such as a roostertail). The boat was climbing higher. For those of you not familiar with this scenario.... it's NOT GOOD. I backed off and the hull settled, but hooked slightly as the sponson speared the water. Unlike other "stuffs" and mishaps I've experienced in boat racing, I understood what happened and was able to recompose and get back on the throttle, but not without developing a new set of brain pathways under the file name: Roostertails: FEAR THIS.

MY NO FEAR STICKER EXPIRED...

I spent the rest of the afternoon getting in harm’s way around the course. Basically, I'd make a good "blocker". However, with a full field of boats on the course, I'm afraid I’d become a statistic. As a hydrodynamic engineer specializing in propulsion systems, I've spent my life making props bite. It would be somewhat ironic to be the recipient of the same. On the subject of props... did you know Formula One props cost as much as the average Personal Watercraft Vehicle?

At days end, we retreated to the air-condition of the motorhome and reviewed our dual on video. I once thought I would have been a great Champ Boat driver, but the reality is... my "No Fear" sticker has expired. I've done a few things that have scared the bodily waste out of me, like... close-call endo's on dirtbikes, stuffing offshore cats, and almost muttering the words "I do"... but racing F-1 Champ Boats gets my vote as the quickest route to dirty diapers.

An F-1 Tunnel Boat is a marvel of response. It is VERY sensitive to input. The steering wheel turns lock-to-lock in one turn, which results in a 90 degree turn inside a 30 foot radius at nearly 100 mph. A Mercury 2.5 EFI-F1 outboard is one of the most responsive and powerful 2-strokes in the world, producing a power to weight ratio better than 1:1. In other words.... the engine weight is less than the horsepower produced. What's more amazing is that any engine with this much reciprocating mass can stay intact at over 10,000 RPM's when the prop unloads. The hydraulic ram for the trim system is touchy-fast... traveling its full spectrum in less than 3 seconds. The hull weighs only slightly more than the engine and the tunnel develops greater lift than it’s weight. When this hull is aired-out at top speed, you’d have more contact with deceased relatives... than the water’s surface. Overall, driving these boats is an exercise in CONTROL. If you're not a sensitive guy...don't apply for the job.

Driving a champ boat completes a dream for me, but racing one will never be a reality. Not unlike any red-blooded American male, I like things that go fast. But as I approach my impending mid-life crisis, I'm beginning to understand why a man's testosterone level decreases with age... because we'd never live to tell our children how fast we were. In reflecting over the experience, the one thing that stands clear in my mind is the intense level of concentration required to drive these boats and the physical condition needed to endure them. At one time, I was arrogant enough to believe I could handle any boat at its limits. At this time, my humility has come to terms with my mortality.

Carl Camper, F-1 Pilot (for a day)