Costa Rica or Bust !
I originally met Jim during the 1989 Whitbread Race in a derelict cinema in Punta del Este that North Sails were using as a temporary sail loft.
Jim and I had a number of mutual friends so we spent a bit of time together once back in the UK.
Next up was the 1992 America’s Cup in San Diego. Jim was sailing with Sid Fisher on AUS-17. I was sailmaking for the Spanish.
After elimination of our respective teams from the Louis Vuitton Cup, Jim came up with the idea of a road trip in his 1968 Chevy Impala.
I’m no petrol head, so anything I write will never do justice to this iconic 2-door full-size V8 American classic car. This is the only car to ever have 1 million manufactured in two successive years .. so, parts would be readily accessible!! See ..Jim the lateral thinker !!
John Sawyer, (RIP) a Swedish team sailmaker and fellow UK North Sailmakers formation drinking team member, was the third adventurer.
Jim’s chosen destination was Costa Rica, some 3000 miles South. No fucking worries —a walk in the park even for this 25-year-old vintage lady, who with hindsight might have had a hard life.
The whole car was painted chrome spaceship silver. To ensure we were not mistaken for Americans with our California plates & US muscle car, Jim painted the Southern Cross to cover the right-side passenger’s door. A Union Jack covered the bonnet, & a Swedish flag covered the boot. To top it off, we had a ceramic Corona monkey mounted on the bow. The whole car was awesome .. photographic evidence to support my great memories to come when Jim finds it…
We were fairly well prepared for the trip with a road map, a travel book on Central America, spare tyre, spare engine oil, and a tent, but cooking facilities were restricted to basic utensils – a hastily washed spoked MG wheel rim (in lieu of a bbq) petrol and matches. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, half way down the Baja Peninsula, the beautiful deep roar emulating from under the bonnet took an alarming turn, and so did the transmission. It was fucked!
We were isolated in a barren, sand dune desert landscape. We hadn’t seen a car for hours, and were miles from the next village.
Remarkably, we could see a building in the valley floor. So, with vultures beginning to circle, we proceeded to free-wheel down the hill to what was looking more and more like a garage. God was with us!
Naturally, after 9 months with the Spanish, had no difficulty explaining even with my limited vocabulary that the car was fucked. The Mexican mechanic seemed relaxed, and assured us he could get the parts and would be up and running within 24 hours, and all this without the internet and before Amazon!! Well he wasn’t wrong. Aprox..one mile down the road in a ditch was a burnt-out Impala upside down with the engine already removed, but the transmission box still intact. This salvaged transmission was removed and fitted to our car over a tortuous two days by the three of us. A slight technical issue came to light as we offered up the drive shaft only to find it was 4” to short to attaching to the new used transmission.
No worries. Out came the oxy-acetylene torch. The drive shaft was cut in half, and a 4” of very roughly hammered out metal plates of mild steel fitted to the outside, we then welded her up with the gas axe… You Bloody Ripper!!
We were back on the road. Possibly we should have spent more time lining it up, as once we hit certain revs the shaft made contact with the bottom of the car, and made an alarming part friction and part banging noise.
This story typified the trip. We had an absolute blast.
Waking up with a rifle in my face after a big night on tequila, and simply apologising if we made excessive noise the previous evening.
Treading water 30 metres offshore at midnight off a private beach in Acapulco, while the armed guards shared a cigarette whilst standing 3 metres away from our clothes (that would surely have given our presence away).
Jim strolling through Taxco in a cream linen suit complete with a Panama hat as if on a film set, then virtually wedging the mighty Impala down a particularly narrow medieval lane, and the subsequent challenge to extradite ourselves safely out of the old town.
Many of the old towns with old worldly narrow spanish cobbled streets and dirt tracks had not been made with our Chevy in mind!!… more horse and carriage.
We immersed ourselves in Mexico experiencing everything on offer…from a 2 day sea ferry crossing to horse riding in the mountains….to….Ramping (risky camping) …Pretty sure camping on top of a large Aztec pyramid, and gazing at the stars, and viewing where in the past human offerings were made, mabey frowned upon now. We were just living in the moment..as Gen X does.
I’m not sure how many tapes we had for the in-car state of the art cassette stereo, but I’m sure they could have been counted on one hand, and the Waterboys Whole of the Moon is deeply ingrained after 6 weeks and 2000miles of travel.
Finances, and the Impala’s health, prevented us from getting down to Costa Rica. We abandoned our beloved Impala & tent in Mexico City, and sold it to a classic car mechanic who was intent on restoring it to its former glory Mexican style!! Before this happened, however, we were trying to find the Costa Rica Embassy in Mexico City, and the second transmission finally gave way. After breaking down, we got pushed off the road by the Mexican dodgem-style police cars into the Russian Embassy’s main driveway. Abruptly, some irate armed Russian military police confronted us wanting us to move on. After that, we flew back to San Diego to collect our lives and move on to the next job.
My last memory of that trip was in LAX airport leaving Jim at Qantas airline check-in as he was protesting in his normal charming manner about his massive excess baggage bill to get his kit home. He was after all just doing this all for Australia’s America’s Cup team!!
I was trusted with looking after Julie when she arrived for the end of the 1993/94 Whitbread race prior to Tokio’s arrival. I picked her up from Hamble station after letting her describe in great detail what she and her mate Sue were wearing. Needless to say they were the only people on the platform. She laughed. She had to be a keeper!!
Since 1994, Jim and I have been at opposite ends of the world working hard, and having the joy of bringing up kids, but he has always kept in touch, keeping us on the straight and narrow periodically, and having a laugh whenever we talked.
Jim is a one-off, a diamond, a genuine guy that I have been privileged to spend time with and call a friend. When I spoke about Jim the other night at home, Bill (my wonderful wife & best friend of 26 years) described him to my 20-year-old son as kind & thoughtful with a lovely energy about him.
Smiles.
Simon Miles (Smiles) is a skilled yachtsman, sailmaker and above all an adventurer. He embraces life head first, and with vigour. We have had great friendship together over the years. When I spoke to him recently, it was just like it was yesterday, although five years had past. He is a devoted husband and father. Armed with a hands on approach to educating his kids through the looking glass of adventure and exploration, through doing, and leading by example, rather than just viewing….from an internet filtered distance…
