You just don’t meet many people like Jim Close. He’s a true original.
Over the years our paths crossed many times and it was always fun. I gave up yachting years ago, but I still look forward to Jim’s impromptu calls from the other side of the world, where he somehow continues the conversation as if it were yesterday and we were still working and laughing together in the same sail loft.
Jim has never followed the herd. While most of us look at problems by asking how something is normally done — and maybe how it can be improved — Jim sees entirely different answers. Back in 1993 his innovative Code Zero designs were influential enough that the Whitbread rules had to evolve around them. More recently he designed a scow-bow multihull inspired by watching Gentoo penguins.
We shared a sail loft during the 1993–94 Whitbread. I was with La Poste in the Maxi Class and Jim was on Tokio, a W60. Jim suggested that since we were racing in different classes, we could leapfrog containers between stopovers, halve the onshore costs, and probably have some fun too. It didn’t take much to sell the idea to management and it turned out to be a brilliant experience.
I’m not sure Jim knows how much I picked up from him simply by watching him work. Looking at the innovative details in his sails, chatting about manoeuvres or onboard repairs — there was always something to learn.
I’d always prided myself on doing meticulous repair jobs on the boat. Jim looked at one of our repairs and said:
“Yeah, but… you need to get the kite back up, right? Just freehand it back together and get it up — you’re racing.”
Immediately my mindset changed because I knew he was right. Done was often better than perfect. I learned countless small tricks from Jim over the years, including his catchphrase:
“You can’t push a rope!”
One memory that still makes me laugh was during the 1992 America’s Cup, when Jim came in to help manage the Swedish sail programme. In truth, we were overwhelmed with work. The only way we could get through it was to run the loft 24/7 on two overlapping 14-hour shifts.
Then disaster struck — we all caught flu.
Pretty soon everyone was seriously ill. I remember my throat burning so badly I could barely swallow, my nose streaming constantly, my head pounding. All I wanted was to be in bed — probably where I should have been. It was the same for everyone, including Jim.
The show had to go on.
Jim’s solution? A few bottles of rum and some Coke.
“That’ll sort us!”
Only Jim would have thought of it.
As we worked through the night, music blasting loudly enough to drown out the clatter of the sewing machines, somehow we got the job done — and we did it smiling. I do wonder whether anyone noticed that the quality of my stitching wasn’t exactly at its usual standard.
We all know Jim is now fighting his biggest battle. In a much smaller way, I understand something of what it means when illness steals parts of your life away. I’ve been dealing with autoimmune problems myself, though nothing close to what Jim is facing.
What strikes me is that when Jim calls, he never dwells on his own situation. He’s always asking how I’m doing, whether there’s anything he can do to help, or simply being Jim: original, compassionate, funny, and relentlessly positive.
I truly feel honoured to count him as my friend.
Ivan Bunner, UK
Narrated by Russel King:
Ivan, apart from being a top bloke, has competed in 3 round the world yacht races and many regattas.
