Fast Company

From Marina to yacht club to the Golden Gate in the SUV of boats.

All 12 people aboard Roger Kroeze's 40-foot Protector Hauraki speedboat—one of only three of its kind in the United States—are smiling and murmuring things like "This is incredible," and "Unbelievable." It could be the clear-cobalt late-afternoon sky, or the combination of cold Tecates and KFOG, or the memory of the Corinthian Yacht Club in Tiburon, a spotless vision of blue-and-white Newport charm where we just had a round of drinks on the deck looking out to the San Francisco skyline.

But most likely it's because we've just passed Point Bonita Lighthouse in the Marin Headlands and begun a U-turn back toward the Golden Gate Bridge and the city. The boat, which Kroeze (pronounced "Cruisee") has named Kroezin' (get it?), is riding six-foot swells that seem to have no discernable pattern; this is the place outside the Golden Gate where the Bay meets the Pacific in a chaotic wash of currents. Though the high swells make the inexperienced passenger feel a bit out of control—several of the smiles are nervous ones—Kroeze is actually powering the Hauraki forward at 30 knots (about 35 mph, incredibly fast for a boat loaded with a dozen people on choppy seas), its inflatable rim buoying it against the constantly churning tide. The only other vessel in sight is a tanker headed for Asia.



"I'm into performance and handling," says the 48-year-old Kroeze, who spent 25 years climbing the corporate ladder at a Silicon Valley semiconductor-equipment company that did very, very well, and is now renovating a house in Cow Hollow while considering his next venture. Kroeze drives a Porsche and has raced late-model NASCAR stock cars, but has always been lured by the water—first in a series of ski boats and, since 2003, in a series of Protectors. "On land, there are white lines and speed traps, plus millions of other people, all with their own skill sets." he says. "On the water, there is no structure and relatively few people. You make your own boundaries. You're in charge of your own fate." At one point, he owned three boats simultaneously. First came a 28-foot Protector, a boat initially designed for the New Zealand Coast Guard and coveted in this country as a do-it-all "SUV" for recreational users, thanks to its speed and ability to withstand rugged conditions. Then Kroeze bought a 45-foot motor yacht, and with it came a berth in the SF Marina, which has a notoriously long wait list (some 20 years) unless you buy a vessel already assigned to a slip—a practice that drives the price of even the most dilapidated flotsam up by tens of thousands of dollars. Finally he got his new Hauraki, the top-of-the-line Protector combining hardy seaworthiness with a tricked-out cabin  for entertaining and even overnight stays. He needn't check wind, tides or currents—if he gets the urge, he drives down to the Marina, uncovers the boat and goes—to the Golden Gate Yacht Club with friends; to Sausalito with his wife and two young children; to Ayala Cove on Angel Island for an impromptu meeting with his stockbroker; and sometimes alone, to clear his mind and escape what he calls "metropolitan constraints."

Kroeze has often spontaneously offered rides to passersby who show a certain dreamy look in their eye. He's also ridden Kroezin' through 20-foot seas in the infamously dangerous "potato patch" outside Point Bonita, once rescued a lone windsurfer who was being pulled toward the Gate on a rough day and even went mano a mano with a Coast Guard SAFE Boat when its driver challenged him to a race from Angel Island to a nearby buoy. "I beat him by a long shot," Kroeze grins. "You can just relax or socialize, or you can battle Mother Nature," he says. "When I get back from boating, I feel like I've escaped something. I couldn't stand living in San Francisco and not having a boat."

Click here to see exclusive video.

All 12 people aboard Roger Kroeze's 40-foot Protector Hauraki speedboat—one of only three of its kind in the United States—are smiling and murmuring things like "This is incredible," and "Unbelievable." It could be the clear-cobalt late-afternoon sky, or the combination of cold Tecates and KFOG, or the memory of the Corinthian Yacht Club in Tiburon, a spotless vision of blue-and-white Newport charm where we just had a round of drinks on the deck looking out to the San Francisco skyline.

But most likely it's because we've just passed Point Bonita Lighthouse in the Marin Headlands and begun a U-turn back toward the Golden Gate Bridge and the city. The boat, which Kroeze (pronounced "Cruisee") has named Kroezin' (get it?), is riding six-foot swells that seem to have no discernable pattern; this is the place outside the Golden Gate where the Bay meets the Pacific in a chaotic wash of currents. Though the high swells make the inexperienced passenger feel a bit out of control—several of the smiles are nervous ones—Kroeze is actually powering the Hauraki forward at 30 knots (about 35 mph, incredibly fast for a boat loaded with a dozen people on choppy seas), its inflatable rim buoying it against the constantly churning tide. The only other vessel in sight is a tanker headed for Asia.



"I'm into performance and handling," says the 48-year-old Kroeze, who spent 25 years climbing the corporate ladder at a Silicon Valley semiconductor-equipment company that did very, very well, and is now renovating a house in Cow Hollow while considering his next venture. Kroeze drives a Porsche and has raced late-model NASCAR stock cars, but has always been lured by the water—first in a series of ski boats and, since 2003, in a series of Protectors. "On land, there are white lines and speed traps, plus millions of other people, all with their own skill sets." he says. "On the water, there is no structure and relatively few people. You make your own boundaries. You're in charge of your own fate." At one point, he owned three boats simultaneously. First came a 28-foot Protector, a boat initially designed for the New Zealand Coast Guard and coveted in this country as a do-it-all "SUV" for recreational users, thanks to its speed and ability to withstand rugged conditions. Then Kroeze bought a 45-foot motor yacht, and with it came a berth in the SF Marina, which has a notoriously long wait list (some 20 years) unless you buy a vessel already assigned to a slip—a practice that drives the price of even the most dilapidated flotsam up by tens of thousands of dollars. Finally he got his new Hauraki, the top-of-the-line Protector combining hardy seaworthiness with a tricked-out cabin  for entertaining and even overnight stays. He needn't check wind, tides or currents—if he gets the urge, he drives down to the Marina, uncovers the boat and goes—to the Golden Gate Yacht Club with friends; to Sausalito with his wife and two young children; to Ayala Cove on Angel Island for an impromptu meeting with his stockbroker; and sometimes alone, to clear his mind and escape what he calls "metropolitan constraints."

Kroeze has often spontaneously offered rides to passersby who show a certain dreamy look in their eye. He's also ridden Kroezin' through 20-foot seas in the infamously dangerous "potato patch" outside Point Bonita, once rescued a lone windsurfer who was being pulled toward the Gate on a rough day and even went mano a mano with a Coast Guard SAFE Boat when its driver challenged him to a race from Angel Island to a nearby buoy. "I beat him by a long shot," Kroeze grins. "You can just relax or socialize, or you can battle Mother Nature," he says. "When I get back from boating, I feel like I've escaped something. I couldn't stand living in San Francisco and not having a boat."

Click here to see exclusive video.

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