The Spirit Behind Apache Star: Speed, Legacy, and Connection
This is a story about two lightning-fast boats, a fabulously wealthy spiritual leader, a mysterious horse, and three bold men from North Rhine-Westphalia. It's about fame, world records—and international understanding.
One of those bold men is Roger Klüh from Düsseldorf. Roger is the son of Josef Klüh, founder of Klüh Service Management, a Düsseldorf-based company that employed nearly 47,000 people across nine countries in 2015 and generated close to €700 million in revenue. Roger once played pro ice hockey in Germany’s top league for Düsseldorfer EG. “Penalty minutes were my specialty,” he says, laughing in the lounge of Düsseldorf’s luxury Breidenbacher Hof Hotel. He still looks fit, tanned, and full of energy.
Roger—pronounced "Rodscher" in German—has a story to tell: his second world record attempt. But to understand it, we need to start with the first.
That first record came on August 1, 2015, just one day after his 50th birthday. Roger leans forward in his chair, arms on his thighs like a hockey player waiting to be subbed in. At the beginning, there was love—the love of speedboats. “I grew up on the water,” he says. His passion for speed and water came from his father. He especially loved Apache Powerboats—American-made speed demons that skim across the water at 200 km/h (about 124 mph). “The boat can handle it,” he says. “As long as your body can too.”
Florida to Havana: A Record With a Message
In 2001, after 30 years of speedboating, Klüh bought a used Apache Star—a boat that had only hit the water twice, winning a world title both times. He spent two years rebuilding it. His goal: break the record for the 210 km trip between Florida and Cuba. The old record dated back to 1958—six hours and 23 minutes. Klüh wanted to dedicate his run to peace and international friendship. And he wanted to send a message against the U.S. trade embargo.
Speedboating, he says, is the toughest, most dangerous motorsport. “Formula 1 looks like riding a Segway in comparison,” he jokes. “I knew that if I made the trip, I’d be the fastest.”
The problem? The politically sensitive crossing needed U.S. government approval. He spent 18 months and a team of lawyers chasing permits. Finally, he got the green light.
On August 1, 2015, he and his three-man crew fired up the Apache Star’s 2,700-horsepower engine and took off from Key West. Everything that could go wrong, did. Equipment failures. Brutal weather. High waves and thick fog. “I couldn’t see a thing. I had to improvise to keep the boat airborne,” he says. In the last 10 minutes, the boat slowed to just 90 km/h. The crew’s backs were wrecked from the pounding in the hard shell seats.
When they limped into Havana’s Marina Hemingway Yacht Club after 90 minutes, the crowd erupted. Then the engine exploded, the steering system ripped apart, and the boat began leaking. They stuffed their T-shirts into the holes to keep it afloat. Later, Cuban leader Raúl Castro personally awarded Klüh a medal of honor. A Hollywood-worthy tale.
Next Level: Conquering the Atlantic With the Destriero
Now, years later, Klüh—the Caribbean folk hero—is back in a Düsseldorf hotel lounge, talking about his next world record attempt. The sequel to the Florida–Cuba trip. Another insanely fast boat. This one practically a myth among powerboating circles: the Destriero.
The Destriero is a 70-meter, 54,000-horsepower snow-white monster of a yacht, built in 1991. Powered by three jet turbines and a fuel tank that holds 750,000 liters of kerosene, it can hit 110 km/h (about 68 mph). It was purpose-built to shatter the transatlantic speed record and claim the Blue Riband—the maritime world’s version of the Oscars. Except this is the Oscar for Best Picture, Best Actor, and Best Director all in one.
There’s no real reason why men chase these dreams. Except because they can. Psychologists might call it intrinsic motivation.
Enter another key figure: Prince Karim Aga Khan IV, born in 1936, living in a castle near Paris. Spiritual leader of 20 million Ismaili Muslims. World’s largest racehorse breeder. And one of the wealthiest men alive. He commissioned the Destriero—Italian for “warhorse”—for an estimated $100 million. In 1992, he smashed the Atlantic record: 6,500 km in just 58 hours and 34 minutes.
But there was a catch: he registered the vessel as a private yacht. The Blue Riband, however, is only awarded to passenger ships. So while Aga Khan technically holds the speed record, he never got the trophy.
A Mission to Reclaim the Blue Riband
Roger Klüh wants to change that. He plans to take the Destriero back across the Atlantic—this time, properly registered—to officially win the Blue Riband and hand it to Aga Khan as a posthumous tribute.
Joining Klüh at the hotel lounge are two partners in this bold plan: Jörn Hellwig, a pilot who once ran the airline Blue Wings, and Udo Stern, a former Lufthansa executive. Both men are tech geeks and speed freaks. “Roger’s proven he’s fast,” says Hellwig. “Now it’s about endurance.”
How did they all meet? “We met in a cigar lounge on the Königsallee,” says Stern. Klüh adds with a smile, “Udo asked me if I wanted to go crazy again.”
This mission is just as audacious as the Cuba trip. Just ask Sir Richard Branson. The British billionaire, adventurer, and space tourist once tried to break the same Atlantic record. He failed.
Everything’s in place. Klüh’s 12-man crew could be assembled in no time. There’s just one tiny problem: the only ship on Earth that can pull this off is the Destriero. And it’s been docked since 1992—currently in Bremen, Germany. Aga Khan never used it again. He doesn’t seem interested in it either.
The team has spent months trying to persuade the Aga Khan or his inner circle to release the boat, says Stern. So far, no luck.
Sure, it would take a few million to modernize the vessel. But with the right sponsors, it’s doable. According to Hellwig, even the European Union has expressed interest in backing the project. Just like the first trip, this would be a mission for peace and unity.
Built for Records. Driven by Belief.
For Klüh, it’s déjà vu: another record run over stormy seas in a boat born to break limits. Another long wait to see if the journey can even begin. “I’m relaxed,” he says. Waiting is something he’s good at.
Just like in 2015, he believes he’ll succeed. Why is he so sure? He leans forward in his chair, arms on thighs, grins, and says:
“I’m not the type for a Plan B.”
Source: WELT, By Frank Lorentz
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