Sunlight glitters off the rippling waters of Lake Coeur d’Alene. Gentle waves lap against the swaying dock as boats and jet skis zip across the waters just north of Harrison. I inhale the sweet aromas of warm wood and fresh aquatic air before my attention is redirected back to the shore.
Chris Billingslea and Adam Olscamp are taking the covers off two strange boards resembling surfboards with fins and propellers extending from the bottoms. Suddenly confused, I realize we’re not out here for the water sport I’d been anticipating.
“Wait, what are we doing?” I ask.
“Just watch,” they say wryly, broad grins betraying their excitement.
My curiosity piqued, I shadow them on the dock as they carry the boards out into the water. When they’ve waded out to about to their waists, they slowly flip the boards over so the propellers are in the water, then lie on them like surfers. With a low hum, Chris’s board comes to life and slowly begins to carry him away from the shallows.
The board levels with the water as Chris turns up the speed on the handheld remote strapped to his wrist and moves into a standing position with an effortless agility garnered from years of water sport experience. Then, to my stunned disbelief, I watch as man and board suddenly rise a foot above the water, floating in the air as they fly off across the lake.
I blink, stunned. Did I really just watch a grown man hover over the lake and ride off like a specter? Before my mind can fully comprehend what I’ve just witnessed, Adam takes off and repeats the phenomenon, amplifying my awe. An incredulous laugh escapes me. I am utterly entranced and instantly obsessed; I have to try this.
I shake myself out my daze and make my way a few lots down the beach from Chris’ property to join the rest of our group. As I unload on our friend’s dock, I’m not the only one laughing and marveling at this spectacle for the first time.
Chris is now sitting toward the front of his board with legs crossed, transforming from a daring Silver Surfer into a stoic Yoda as he passes the dock. Passersby in boats slow their engines to stare.
What is this hypnotic sorcery? Making its debut around 2016, electric hydrofoiling is a newer sport that’s rapidly gaining popularity worldwide for its versatility and accessibility to riders of all skill levels. The boards are called foilboards because of the hydrofoil — specialized fins engineered to create an upward lift that pushes riders up above the water and which are attached to the bottom of the board by an aluminum mast. What sets these boards apart from other hydrofoils used in sports like kitefoiling and foil surfing is the addition of a propeller, which is powered by an innovative 50-pound lithium battery that makes up most of the board’s weight. Paired with these is the handheld Bluetooth remote, used to control speed, monitor battery life, track distance traveled, and more.
Chris and Adam purchased their Fliteboards from an Australian company called Flite, whose cutting-edge technology has earned them top ratings among electric hydrofoil manufacturers around the world. Flite founder David Trewern was at a kitefoil competition with no wind in 2016 when he had the idea of adding an electric motor to his kitefoil. The company, based in Byron Bay, has since worked to develop the technology for boards that create no emission, sound, or wake in order to become more environmentally friendly.
Story continues after a quick message from our sponsor below.
I’m a bit nervous to be entrusted with one of the boards, but can barely contain my excitement when Adam offers me his to take a turn. Chris sits bobbing in the water, waiting to ride out and impart the mystery to me. Forgoing all uncertainty, I drop off the dock and pull myself up onto the board.
Chris explains that the remote is activated by pressing it to a small black circle in the middle of the board, after which I have five seconds to squeeze the throttle on the remote — a safety feature to ensure the board doesn’t take off before the rider’s ready — and start turning up the speed. I try to listen attentively amidst my eagerness as he explains everything.
“Ready to give it a go?” he asks.
I enthusiastically give my assent. I’ve never felt more ready to fly.
The remote lights up as I hold it to the board, beginning the countdown. Five… I quickly note the important icons on the little screen: battery life, speed, and which gear out of 20 I’m currently in. Four… The lake spans out before me, its sapphire surface pulsing with energy. Three… What am I waiting for? Two…
The board hums to life as I pull the throttle with my index finger and bump up a couple gears with my thumb. I instinctively grip the side with my free hand as the board gently surges forward, and a lazy wake pours over my feet just barely dangling off the edge.
I feel out the stability of the board for a minute before climbing up into a kneeling position. Chris coaches me as he rides alongside, going over the importance of keeping myself centered farther forward on the board than I’d think necessary. This is to counteract the energy of the propeller and hydrofoil that makes the board’s nose want to pop up. My confidence increases as I maneuver by adjusting how I apply pressure with my knees. All right, time to get gutsy. I go up a few gears again.
There’s a sudden shift in the board’s energy and, with a thrill exploding in my chest, I realize I’m no longer planing along the surface of the water.
A choppy gurgling from the propeller instantly disrupts my reverie. Without thinking, I release the throttle in an effort to slow down and regain control. Wrong choice; now I am falling.
The board, my new best friend just seconds before, dumps me unceremoniously into the water. I’m consumed by the lake in a startling reality check before being buoyed back to the surface by my lifejacket. I laugh at myself and give Chris a thumbs-up that all’s good, then swim over to the board, which powered off as soon as I was ejected.
Ah yes, cavitating: when the propeller starts coming out of the water and takes in too much air. Chris mentioned that would happen. He also definitely said to not release the throttle when it does.
Now that I’ve gotten my first fall out of the way, the daredevil within clambers back onto the board and immediately plots how to attempt standing. I get going and to my knees twice as fast as before, and this time when the board starts to rise, I focus on controlling it instead of getting distracted by the sensation.
I go through in my mind what the standing process requires. I’ve seen surfers do it enough times, and have watched Chris and Adam do it repeatedly today. I just need to believe I can do it, and then stand up.
The water is clear of obstacles ahead and no huge wakes are heading my way. Just as I visualized, I take a breath and slide my left foot forward, right foot backward, stabilize myself on my fingertips, and rise into a cautious crouch.
I may not be fully upright, but I’m standing. I can’t believe I got it my first time! Then comes the fateful cavitation, and before I can catch myself, my finger releases the throttle again and I’m launched through the air, colliding with the lake in a shimmering spray.
Chris laughs as he passes but congratulates me on getting up. I doggedly practice getting back up into a balanced crouch, and figure out how to bring the board back down to the water when it threatens to cavitate. Figuring I should head back to the dock to let others have a go, I lean forward lightly on my fingertips and turn, carving the water in a mesmerizing arc.
My legs are so exhausted I barely pull myself up onto the dock, but the deadness in my limbs doesn’t keep me down for long. We’re all high on endorphins this afternoon, cheering each other on, giving a low “oh” when there’s an epic fall. Many eFoils can reach speeds of nearly 30 mph, and one of the guys challenges himself to see how fast he can manage, resulting in some comical displacements.
There’s just enough battery left for me to take a final ride. The lake stretches out before me, inviting me to come explore and lose myself in the wild unknowns. The board has become an extension of my body, responding to the slight shifting of my weight to smoothly navigate wakes and swells. I’m struck by a sense of the stillness of time out here below the sky, where it’s just me, the board, the beckoning world, and adventure unfathomable. I dare to stand taller, ride faster, go farther from the shore, pushing myself to absorb every last drop of this present moment into my every pore. I’ve found the sweet spot for riding the air and lose myself in the surreal sensation of soaring. n
By Abby Owens
Photography By Chris Celentano
As Featured In: Summer/Fall 2021
