“I was definitely on the edge”

France just broke SailGP’s all-time speed record at 107.63 km/h. Denmark broke the old one too, then buried the bow. On a wild afternoon in Sassnitz, the difference between history and disaster was measured in fractions of a second.

Neck-on-Neck (c) SailGP

There is a point in most sports where going faster stops looking athletic and starts looking slightly unhinged.

In Sassnitz, that point was apparently somewhere above 100 km/h.

On the opening day of the ROCKWOOL Germany Sail Grand Prix, France hit 107.63 km/h in its F50. Denmark reached 106.79 km/h. Spain managed 106.55 km/h. Three boats went faster than SailGP’s previous record — and one of them promptly nosedived.

That previous benchmark, Denmark’s 103.93 km/h, had been set on exactly the same stretch of Baltic water only a year earlier. In 2025, it was enough to make ROCKWOOL Racing the fastest team SailGP had ever seen. Twelve months later, it had become something to drive through.

Welcome to the awkward bit of an arms race: when everyone discovers the machinery can take more punishment, and the humans have to decide how much they fancy finding out.

The Lowdown

• France set a new SailGP speed record of 107.63 km/h, beating Denmark’s 2025 mark of 103.93 km/h.

• Denmark also broke its old record, reaching 106.79 km/h before suffering a violent nosedive in the same race.

• Spain hit 106.55 km/h, meaning three teams exceeded the previous record within one afternoon.

• Six races produced five different winners. Australia led Group B overnight on 10 points; New Zealand led Group A on 12.

• Sassnitz is becoming SailGP’s speed laboratory. The German venue hosted its first SailGP event in 2025, drawing 13,000 spectators and producing the previous world-beating run.

• The bigger story isn’t simply that F50s are getting quicker. It’s what happens to decision-making when a boundary arrives almost immediately and one mistake can turn a record attempt into a crash.

“At this speed, the first boundary comes up very quickly.”

France driver Quentin Delapierre’s description of the record is striking because there is very little triumph in it.

“I was definitely on the edge and it was quite scary on that last bear-away.”

That is what 107.63 km/h looks like from inside the thing.

The French boat was configured for serious breeze: SailGP’s smallest 18-metre wingsail, high-speed rudders and boards, with more than 40 km/h of Baltic wind feeding the machine.

Delapierre’s concern wasn’t simply making the boat quicker. It was keeping enough pressure off Jason Saunders’ foil for the F50 to stay flying.

The record arrived as a by-product of trying not to get it wrong.

There is a neat contradiction here. SailGP sells speed because speed is obvious. It works on television. It works in a 10-second clip. “107.63 km/h on water” requires virtually no knowledge of sailing to understand.

But at these speeds, outright pace is almost the least sophisticated part of the job.

The real skill is restraint while everything around you is asking for more.

“Once you get over around 90km/hr, the boat is just shaking”

A year ago, Denmark owned this conversation.

When ROCKWOOL Racing reached 103.93 km/h in Sassnitz in 2025, driver Nicolai Sehested described the boat shaking beyond 90 km/h and admitted there was an element of risk calculation involved: find the right gust, arrive in the power zone and decide how far you are prepared to push it.

On Saturday, Denmark went faster.

Then came the other half of the equation.

At 106.79 km/h, ROCKWOOL Racing exceeded its own record before losing control in a heavy nosedive. Second place became seventh.

France got the number. Denmark got the warning label.

That is the seduction of speed records: once somebody proves a limit is survivable, everybody quietly starts treating it as normal.

Last year, 103.93 km/h was extraordinary. This year, three teams beat it in one race.

What looks like progress from shore can feel a lot more like brinkmanship onboard.

“You get a good start, you’re out in front and you’re just sailing around by yourself.”

While everybody watches the speedometer, Tom Slingsby keeps returning to something far less glamorous: traffic.

Australia won its first two races. Both times, the Bonds Flying Roos led early and disappeared.

“It felt super easy in the first two races.”

Then they got caught in the pack.

“Everyone’s attacking you and everyone just slows each other up if you get caught in the pack.”

Two wins became what Slingsby called “a shocker” in race three.

This is racing’s oldest status game dressed in carbon fibre. Life is lovely when you are ahead and everybody else is arguing behind you.

The moment you drop into the group, talent becomes negotiation. Boats interfere with one another. Clean air disappears. Somebody else's mistake becomes your problem.

Australia still finished Day 1 on top of Group B with 10 points.

But Slingsby’s afternoon offered a useful antidote to the obsession with technology: even at 100-plus km/h, sometimes the biggest performance advantage is simply not having anybody near you.

“We had a good start and we didn’t have the other races before that.”

Then there was Germany.

Home events create a peculiar kind of pressure. You spend all week telling everyone the crowd gives you energy, while privately knowing thousands of people have turned up specifically to watch you not embarrass yourself.

Germany struggled early.

Then race five began, Erik Kosegarten-Heil’s team got the start right and suddenly the entire afternoon changed shape.

“Now we are back in the game.”

Germany led and won in front of the sold-out Sassnitz crowd.

A year earlier, SailGP’s debut in the town attracted 13,000 spectators, with vantage points around the shoreline packed out. The venue also produced the championship’s previous speed record.

Sassnitz has quickly acquired the one thing sports venues can’t manufacture with branding: a reputation for things happening there.

Fast boats. Big breeze. Home pressure. Crashes.

You can build hospitality around that. You cannot invent it.

“It was definitely super shifty”

New Zealand’s day was less cinematic, which is often useful.

The Black Foils won the opening Group A race, took control at the second gate and never gave it back. They finished Day 1 on 12 points, ahead of the group.

Pete Burling’s explanation was basically a description of managing nuisance.

“It was definitely super shifty, with the little rain squalls coming through.”

No record. No spectacular accident. Just results accumulating while the weather kept changing its mind.

SailGP’s highlight economy naturally rewards the moment somebody hits 107.63 km/h.

Championships usually reward something more boring.

Knowing when the spectacular thing isn’t required.

“Two good ones and a shocker.”

Six races. Five winners.

Australia twice. New Zealand. France. Germany. Spain.

It is difficult to dominate racing when the conditions keep moving and the consequences of one error accelerate with the boat.

Spain provided the cleanest example in the final race. Los Gallos took a boundary penalty, recovered and still overtook record-breaking France to win.

Think about that for a second.

France produced the fastest number in SailGP history.

Spain won the race.

That distinction might be the best summary of Sassnitz.

Speed gets remembered because it is measurable. Racing is messier. The quickest boat can lose. The dominant team can find itself trapped in traffic. The crew breaking its own record can bury the bow seconds later.

At 107.63 km/h, everybody wants to know how much faster these boats can go.

The better question might be how often they should try.