1960 Giroboat: The Boat That Could Fly, but Never Took Off

The generational gap is real, and the mistaken impression that progress only leads to a decrease in quality is among its chief manifestations. But we're not here to discuss the merits of one generation over another, and least of all to claim that, indeed, things were much better a couple of decades ago or more.

We can all agree that things were certainly different back in the day, and the Giroboat is an excellent example in this sense. This blast from the past is a boat and helicopter hybrid that was designed for leisure activities on the lake and which dreamed of a spectacular future that would include a Giroboating school and maybe even a special Giroboating category in the Olympics. At the very least, Giroboating would become an acknowledged watersport.

None of that ever happened, but not for lack of trying. The Giroboat was the brainchild of John Hofstetter, a young UK-based American inventor, and daredevil with seemingly little consideration towards personal safety. The only surviving footage of his creation, the Giroboat, is the British Pathe video included at the bottom of the page.

It includes a mention of Hofstetter's previous experience as an aircraft designer, so admittedly, he knew a thing or two about how to get stuff up in the air. The Giroboat was proof of that. It was also proof that when "familiarity breeds contempt," even with a spectacular sport like waterskiing, you really have to think outside the box to deliver the thrills.

The "boat” part of the Giroboat was a wooden dingy with three outriggers for extra stability in case of a rougher landing, two on each side and another at the stern. On top of the boat were helicopter blades that lifted it out of the water when the towing speedboat achieved a certain speed and maintained it. The principle was the same as with an autogiro aircraft, but without an engine, since the Giroboat relied on the towing speedboat's engine for that.

Hofstetter went public with his invention in 1960 and showed it off for the televised demo in 1961 on a lake in Glasgow, Scotland. He'd built at least two Giroboats by that point, one for himself and another for his wife Shelagh, and brought both out for the demo, which also saw Scottish speedboat champion Gordon Cameron operating one of the tow boats.

The Giroboat could be transported easily on a trailer and assembled for operation in under 5 minutes. Seeing how you only had to take out the blades and screw them onto the overhead frame, that's not a surprise. You could then take it out on the condition that the towing boat could maintain a constant speed of 20 mph (32.2 kph) or above – any less, and the Giroboat couldn't achieve flight.

There was little in terms of control of the Giroboat while airborne, so whatever time was not spent marveling at the wonders of flight was probably spent praying the speedboat wouldn't run out of lake. Hofstetter was convinced that operation and the presumably more challenging landing could be taught during a one-hour training session, but he still planned to start a Giroboating school - no doubt thinking about the future of the Giroboating watersport.

Once flight was achieved, you could cut the towline and remain airborne, the designer noted. However, you weren't legally allowed to do so unless you also had a pilot's license, so, bummer.

At the time of the demonstration, Hofstetter was still considering the possibility of developing a two-seat version of the flying boat so that couples sharing a love of adventure and a general disregard for personal safety could fly together. A single stock photo of the Hofstetters confirms that he went ahead with the plan and was able to take it out later that same year. With the missus by his side, of course.

The video report resurfaces online every few years with regularity and then goes viral for the same reason we're talking about it now: it's awesome. Dangerous but awesome. When that happens, it's usually accompanied by online chatter that it's a fake report slash some sort of viral marketing by Evinrude, whose name is featured heavily in the footage because it's also the name of Shelagh's Giroboat.

Evinrude has been making boat engines since 1907, so the industry connection exists, and it seems to be enough to fuel the chatter. But it stops here because the Giroboat is no fake, even though it does defy common sense: it was a real product, and it really had the extraordinary ambition of going commercial. It never took off – though not in the literal sense.