October 30, 2025
On the Beach.
Over the years drag boat speeds have substantially increased. From the earliest days in the sport, the fastest boats had occasional issues with slowing down after a high-speed quarter-mile run. Some venues had far more liquid real-estate for reducing speed than others. To help solve this issue, these boats, at the time known as blown fuel hydro’s, began using parachutes. The parachute, sometimes more than one, was attached to the back of the boat, and was deployed (if needed) immediately upon crossing the finish line. Generally, it was the perfect remedy. Sometimes slower boats unexpectedly struck the beach due to various technical problems, however this was unusual. In drag boat history there are likely more than a hundred untold stories of boats running up on the beach at many lakes around the country. Here are just a few instances where I photographed boats that crashed on to the beach at the end of their run.
Above: The pro gas hydro “Star Wars” accidentally ran up on the beach at Firebird Lake in 1986.
My earliest experience in witnessing this problem appeared at my first race, and was perhaps one of the most interesting. It was 1981 at Lake Ming, Bakersfield, California. Veteran driver Ricky Ray Roberts had executed a perfect performance during Saturday’s qualifying with Newman Black’s blown fuel hydro, “Black’s Express.” Sunday afternoon things didn’t end well. It was during eliminations, the boat was again functioning flawlessly until Roberts crossed the finish line. Attempting to routinely deploy the parachute, much to the surprise of Roberts, he discovered the chute failed to deploy. Although decelerating, it was painfully obvious the hydro would not stop before hitting the beach. Time was running out, Roberts had just two quick options; immediately bail-out of the speeding boat, or ride it out and hope for the best, he chose the latter. Making matters worse, the beach was occupied with fans, and directly ahead of the on-coming nitro boat was a park bench, with someone’s afternoon meal cooking over a stove. Before the speeding hydro left the water, spectators were already scrambling for safety. An instant later, the boat collided with the bench, promptly flipping upside-down on top of the table and destroying it. The Coleman stove was tossed about, spilling its steaming hot contents of chilly and hot dogs onto Roberts’ chest. When rescue personnel arrived moments later, their eyes were immediately drawn to the hot food on his driving suite. Their first reaction was to believe the chilly and hot dogs was from the drivers’ vitals. Conceivably possible, but thankfully none of this was true. Roberts’ injuries were instead, minor in nature. Additionally, even the boat was repairable and would be back on the water at the next race. From that event forward, officials would not allow anyone to occupy the newly designated ‘danger zone’ (beach) at the end of Lake Ming.
Above: “Black’s Express “on the beach, Lake Ming, February, 1981
A few years later in 1985, I was again at Lake Ming, when another blown fuel hydro landed on the beach. The fueler’s were being lined up at the starting line when this feeling came over me; one of these nitro boats was going to end up on the beach at the far end of the lake. Prior to the hydro’s getting underway, I grabbed my camera gear and moved as fast as possible to the dreaded vacant beach in preparations. Sure enough, Tim Morgan’s “Morgan’s Flying Machine” proved me correct, when his big Kurtis hydro struck the beach head-on, and tossed the driver up and out of the boat. Fortunately, Tim was not injured and the boat damage was minimal.
Above: Tim Morgan hits the beach at Lake Ming, October, 1985
Fast forward to March of 1996, again at Lake Ming, when I watched in astonishment as a 120 mph flatbottom hit the beach at full-throttle. Until then I had only witnessed hydro’s running out of space at the end of the lake. Crossing the finish line during qualifying, driver Greg Ewing was surely surprised to discover the throttle was stuck wide-open on his big-block Chevrolet. Rather than ride out the enviable disaster, he wisely opted to bail-out, and leave the boat to its own fate. Luckily, Ewing’s injuries were not serious; it was a different matter for the driverless boat. When his ski flat named “Lackin Traction” hit the beach, it was immediately catapulted into the sky, flying extremely high, for a great distance. The speeding flatbottom easily cleared the beach, then flew over the parking lot, next clearing a tall chain-linked fence at the top of a hill-side, finally violently landing a great distance away, on the far side of the access road that surrounded Lake Ming. Upon crash-landing, the engine was torn from the hull, tumbled a few feet, and a fire erupted. Making matters worse, the dry foliage on the hill-side also began to burn. Fortunately, the flames were extinguished, and the totaled boat was removed. The destruction at the crash site resembled the ruin one might expect to see of a small plane crash. Upon inspection of the wreckage, race officials discovered the kill-switch had been intentionally disabled. The entire accident could have been avoided with a functioning kill-switch, required by race tech rules.
Above: Greg Ewing’s ski flat is destroyed after a spectacular accident at Lake Ming.
In later years, the quarter-mile race track was reduced from 1,320 feet to just 1,000, a good way to make the sport safer, reduce speeds and of course allow more room for slowing the boats.
Your comments on my Instagram page are welcomed.
Until next month’s blog.
Rick Cline
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September 17, 2025
From Film to Digital, my Story.
Switching from film to digital photography was an extraordinary adventure. I would presume most photographers simply purchased new digital cameras, then sold their old film gear and moved on. As it turned out, my transitional process was far from what might be called normal.
I purchased my first 35 mm camera around 1979, and gradually, with more knowledge and experience, progressed in my critical selection of camera gear, thereby improving photo results. I began my photography business in 1981, and a short time later in ’85, turned full-time, opening a small studio in Anaheim Hills, California. Upon launching the new endeavor, one of the key investments included high-quality, medium-format film camera equipment; I chose a Mamiya RB-67 system. A darkroom for processing film and producing prints soon followed.
Above: Mamiya RB67 Pro S
Everything changed in 1997, when I founded a small, book publishing company, R.A. Cline Publishing. To my amazement, the new profession exploded with activity as it rapidly surpassed photography. Subsequently, I departed boat racing mid-1997, and stopped promoting the studio. Despite the publishing firm consuming the majority of my time, I still had the occasional commercial photography project, exclusively utilizing the RB-67’s. With the dawn of the digital-era, a few clients were beginning to inquisitively ask; “Are you switching to digital?” At the time, I was too busy in publishing to be concerned with the unknown world of digital, therefore I made no changes. As time marched on, the entire photography industry was rapidly falling into a full-blown crisis, the film and processing trade were dying, as digital was taking over the market. Clearly the end of main-stream film usage was in sight.
I was fully immersed in the publishing business when around 2002, an old photography friend phoned. He was quick to ask; “Do you still have film cameras?” When I responded “yes”, he excitedly said, “Sell that stuff immediately… while you still can.” It was true; I still owned several 35 mm cameras, and plenty of Mamiya RB-67 gear. Unbeknownst to me, their value was rapidly plummeting. I wisely took my friends advice, and directly began liquidating my film cameras.
About a year later, with all my film gear disposed of, I decided it was time to investigate this new digital craze I knew very little about. I first purchased a couple of inexpensive Kodak, point and shoot cameras, known today as a ‘digicams.’ They were small, and simple, but honestly I was not impressed, nor satisfied with the results. Suffering from small, sub-par sized sensors, poor optics, and with a low number of megapixels, they produced inferior image quality. Digicams also lacked any of the custom control functions I had grown accustom too. Consequently I began searching for something more substantial.
Above: One of my first digicams, a Kodak DX-3500
A life-time Canon user, I first considered their 1D, an impressive camera, packed with outstanding features. Introduced in December 2001, it was Canon’s first professional digital SLR. The 1D included a high-speed motor-drive, and larger sized 4.1 megapixel sensor. At a later date, I actually circled-back to purchase a 1D. Today I still own, and frequently use this fantastic camera. Then I discovered the newer Canon D60. Launched in 2002, it was slightly newer, and I believed included more advanced technology. Canon appropriately labeled their D60 a ‘prosumer’ (professional-consumer) camera. It had a mediocre motor-drive speed, not a factor in the majority of photo projects. More importantly at the time, it was equipped with a 6.3 megapixel sensor. Designed to look and feel like a traditional 35 mm, the D60 had a completely metal chassis, with a durable plastic outer skin. I was impressed, therefore in 2004, I made the purchase, and the D60 became my first ‘real’ digital camera. I was finally planted in the realm of digital photography, and the new learning process was underway.
Above: Canon D60 camera with optional battery grip attached.
Above: Early commercial photography job captured with the D60.
The following year, I resumed working professional photography jobs for paying clients, using the D60. I was admittedly trailing the latest and greatest in digital technology of the day (around 8 megapixels), however image resolution was very nice, and my results met happy clientele. After a nine-year absence, I re-visited drag boat racing in November of 2006, carrying the trusty D60. The camera easily endured the rapid pace of the IHBA World Finals, and performed flawlessly. I continued operating with the D60 for a few more years, before shifting exclusively to higher-quality, professional-grade cameras. While my knowledge of digital has since grown exponentially, I look back in amazement at the images captured with the D60. These older groundbreaking cameras proved to be an excellent starting point for learning, and using digital. I will not be reverting back to film; I am completely satisfied with digital, as it continues to produce outstanding results for my needs.
Above: “What a Tomato” top alcohol hydro, captured at the 2006 IHBA World Finals with my 6-megapixel Canon D60 camera.
Your comments on my Instagram page are welcomed.
Until next month’s blog.
Rick Cline
