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It was a spectacular morning. The sun was sparkling like diamonds on the Pacific, and a cobalt sky vaulted over the Gold Coast of Australia. Denby Browning, marketing honcho for Riviera Yachts, sat beside me on the flying bridge of our 38 Open Flybridge as she purred along quietly in slow-mo mode (70 dB-A at 1500 rpm and a speed of 10.5 knots).
"All the varnish you saw below decks is robotically done," he was saying. "We apply at least six coats of polyurethane with our new Italian system, all sprayed and baked by the new machine so there are no..."
Whooff! Browning was just about to finish up with Italian robotics and how they're making Riviera more environmentally and worker-friendly, when straight ahead, at a range of approximately 100 yards, a huge humpback whale leapt clear of the water, did a quarter turn, hung there for a magic moment, and then dropped like a boulder. Kasploosh!
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"Holy mackerel!" yelled Browning.
"Holy mackerel and a half!" I yelled. "I've seen sportfishin' boats raise fish...but whales!"
Browning quickly took the con (as well as my camera), and I headed for the foredeck on a dead run, or close to it. The journey was safe and expeditious thanks to several groovy facets of the 38's exterior design. These include long, highly polished handrails above the side windows to hold onto, a grippy nonslip texture underfoot, and an ample bow pulpit with a level surface to stand on and hip-high protective rails as well.
While I watched, the humpback proceeded to put on a Sea World-like half-hour show, jumping clear ten or 15 more times before zooming off. Of course, there are scads of good, scientific reasons why an animal might indulge in such seemingly playful behavior. But my interpretation at the time was as unscientific as it was infectious: The high-jumpin' humpback was simply having fun. So once I'd taken the helm back from Browning, I set out to have a little fun of my own.
And what a venue for it. The sea's surface displayed little more than faint ripples, and whatever swell existed was so long and modest its effects were beyond noticing. "Hang on, Denby," I said, leaning forward to dial up two-thirds throttle. Having fully retracted our Volvo Penta QL interceptor-type trim tabs, I wanted to see how the boat would plane without them.
I found out quick. It took the 38 just 15 seconds to come smoothly out of the hole, and she made an average top speed of 34.2 mph in 30 seconds flat with a maximum bow rise of six degrees. I swung a hard-over turn to port, and we came 'round with a tight inboard bank and a turning radius of three, maybe four boat lengths. I swung a hard-over turn the other way, and the boat performed similarly. Then, after swooping some delightful figure eights, I zeroed out the Teleflex steering, backed off on the throttles, and headed toward the sparkling horizon, a grand exercise that gave me time to reflect.
Riviera's been building flying-bridge-style inboards for decades. Indeed, such vessels are the Aussie builder's bread and butter. So it's no surprise then that a midranger like the 38 performs with such poise and verve. And it's no surprise, either, that the rest of the package is sensibly designed and solidly put together.
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