We were sailing aboard a one-ton yacht for a Japanese syndicate, with a mixed crew of Japanese sailors, our great mate Phil Wolff from Noosa, and the legendary Huey Trahan calling tactics.
In one particular race, we found ourselves in conditions that really suited the boat. It was probably the strongest breeze of the entire regatta, and everything was clicking. We were sailing brilliantly and, incredibly, found ourselves leading the fleet as we approached the second-last mark.
That’s when everything went sideways.
We went into an attack and came out fully powered up when suddenly there was an enormous crack—a loud bang that stopped everyone cold. The boom had fractured around the vang attachment point.
Instantly, we had a major problem. With the boom broken, we couldn’t properly sheet the mainsail, and chaos erupted onboard as everyone tried to work out how we were going to survive—let alone stay competitive—with half the rig effectively falling apart.
Somehow, through all the confusion, we managed to struggle our way to the top mark and round it still in first place.
But the drama wasn’t over.
Our spinnaker hoist was delayed because everyone was scrambling to deal with the broken boom. At that point, Huey was getting increasingly frustrated at how long it was taking.
Finally, he barked,
“I’m going forward to fix this bloody problem myself.”
As he stepped over the traveller, I was steering the boat, but I instinctively reached out and grabbed the back of his wet sailing jacket. Unfortunately, with the deck slippery and conditions wild, Huey lost his footing, slipped backwards, and cracked his head on the traveller.
He looked up at me in disbelief.
I looked back at him and said:
“Huey… I think you’re better off staying back here and letting the boys sort it out up front.”
And that’s exactly what happened.
Jim was on the bow, and he was outstanding.
He got the spinnaker up under enormous pressure, then immediately turned his attention to repairs. He helped get the mainsail down, organised hoisting a storm trysail, cleared the damaged boom, and helped remove the mainsail from the deck so we could keep racing.
It was classic Jim—calm under pressure, practical, innovative, and always figuring out solutions when everyone else was dealing with the chaos.
And against some of the best sailors and best one-ton yachts in the world, we somehow managed to cross the finish line in fifth place.
Under the circumstances, it felt like a victory.
Looking back now, that race was probably the beginning of Jim’s remarkable big-boat career.
From there, he went on to sail multiple round-the-world races, became involved in America’s Cup campaigns, and built a reputation as one of the great problem-solvers in sailing.
On a boat, off a boat—it didn’t matter.
Jim was always “Mr Fix-It.”
He had an extraordinary ability to adapt, innovate, and find solutions where others saw only problems.
And if that chaotic day on San Francisco Bay taught me anything, it was this:
When everything was breaking around him, Jim Close was the guy you wanted on your team.
Well done, Jim.
Rob Brown OAM
Australia
