A voyage on Jolie Brise was such that
I sold my house to buy a pilot cutter for myself
ILLUSTRATION CLAUDIA MYATT
MEMORIES OF A LEGEND
TOM CUNLIFFE
I
t’s funny the way some boats keep coming back into your life.
I’ve known a few, but the one that just won’t let me forget her
is Jolie Brise. Readers of Classic Boat probably know her, but
just in case a few haven’t had the pleasure, she
is the ultimate pilot cutter. She was built to the
drawings of Paumelle in 1913 as a sort of swansong
for this acknowledged king of the Le Havre boats.
Bigger than the standard cutter, she is 56ft (17.1m)
on deck and 10ft-odd (c3m) draught on a rock-of-
ages beam. World War One meant she never really
spread her wings as a pilot boat, but after a period
in the doldrums following the armistice she was
bought by the English yachtsman EG Martin (CB
passim) who went on to win three Fastnet Races
with her, including the inaugural event.
My involvement with Jolie Brise began in 1981.
One thing led to another and I ended up helming
her in a Round the Island Race. The day went off
pretty well and that might have been the finish of
the matter, except that it was followed by alife-changing experience. ‘JB’ was operated as a training boat by
Dauntsey’s School in Wiltshire and, like all except the most
privileged yachts, was short of funds. Someone at the school had
dreamed up the unlikely scheme of sailing her to Bilbao,
shipping £2,000-worth of rioja and selling it at a useful profit to
ever-willing parents who enjoyed a drink as much as they
approved of the boat. The problem was, nobody could spare the
time, so they asked me to skipper her. What is a chap to do? I
took unpaid leave, packed my seabag and signed on my wife as
cook. The rest of the hands consisted of my two-year-old
daughter and a group of trainees from Dauntsey’s, so I
shanghaied a few trusted shipmates of my own to stiffen the
mix. We stashed the cash and away we went.
The trip south was easy and a fine old time was had driving
around Rioja sampling wines with elderly dons in shady
bodegas. Then we loaded up with Berberana and put out into an
autumnal Biscay which, if you like that sort of thing, didn’t
disappoint. Soon under trysail and staysail, the boat took a
lively hammering but she handled it in masterly fashion. It
was only as we rounded Ushant and shaped up for the