Creaky Fossil's Magic Carpet Ride
Video Evidence: note the dexterity with which Creaky Fossil switches sides
MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
Well dad, said Jack, Michael’s going for a ride Friday morning and you are too. Bring your wetsuit.
I muttered such that Jack probably thought I was in but in fact, I had agreed to nothing. I’ve seen the beast at her irascible best - as well as sweet-lady-talking - and my eyes narrowed.
On Thursday Jack persisted:
“Don’t forget your wetsuit dad.”
"Maybe we should just sort of let Michael have a go do you thinK?”
"No Bill, bring your wetsuit."
So Friday morning I roll up with no wetsuit and a sheepish grin. No worries says Jack, I brought a spare.
"Whack it on Bill.”
"But… but…. but…”
“Come on William, whack it on!"
SuperFoiler Grand Prix Chairman Michael Firmin went first. He’s in his 40s and feasts on challenge. Out we go - breeze nibbling at 4-5 knots and the machine stays docile. Michael bails to head to the city, I stagger across from chase boat to the flight deck and slump down thinking no breeze, no worries. Jack and Rhys clip on my safety gear, issue instructions (hang on tight and keep out of the bloody way!) and we all look up… to find the breeze has kicked up to 5 knots gusting 7.
Rhys sets the pitch of the foils, they hook up, trapeze and Jack says: ”Hang on Bill.”
Momentarily, she bumps and splashes along like a boat. She teases for a few seconds - in no-man’s land - then rises up out of the water like a wild duck after a shotgun blast. Straight away, a brand new sensation: theoretically on a boat but absolutely not on a boat at all. I’m flying! We’re zipping over wake-infested waters - normally bang-crash city - and we’re smooth and unruffled as a gliding eagle.
“Don’t forget to hang on Bill. A bit more breeze here.”
I grip like Tarzan… but sense no danger. Some trepidation though with the machine seemingly not a machine at all but rather a live being, making up its own mind as to what experience she’ll give us this day. With a shimmy here and a lurch there just to remind us who’s in charge. I notice distinct movements apparently associated with the ride height and question Jack and Rhys as to what they were doing. Nothing, they replied. That’s her spring system keeping us steady and fast. She is alive and merely tolerating our presence, doing as she pleased. At times she flies low on the foils, at other times high.
At one point she's riding high doing about 17 knots when suddenly she slants down and instantly accelerates up to 22 knots. Cripes, I said, what was that? Rhys had changed the angle of attack (electronic systems) on the main foil by half a degree and that produced a leaping change in speed. Such a multi-dimensional little beast and still so much to discover.
I can smell the adrenalin as Jack & Rhys wrestle control systems, clearly taking responsibility for my wellbeing. Thanks boys: played strong, done good. When we stopped to turn back Rhys was thirsty for air, but keen to go again.
We took off heading from just west of the zoo towards Double Bay. I watched the speedo roll up to 22 knots - and let out a squeal. How could she be doing 22 knots? There was not a shred more than 7 knots of breeze!! We approached some ferry wake and Jack & Rhys drew breath.
“Hang on Bill”.
I remembered their ferry-wake-nosedive. I cling on like a Blue Swimmer Crab on a fish head. But the beast simply slips through the wake as though an illusion.
Doing 22 knots with no bang and crash, no roaring motors. Just a sense of oneness with this creature and the wind. I saw sailor on a passing naval vessel, looking puzzled as though we are an apparition. But the thing that really blew me off my tramlines was going fast over the water with a complete absence of bang, crash, roar. It made me pleased to be skeptical of conventional wisdom.
Bill