THE PITFALLS AND PLEASURE OF OWNING A CLASSIC YACHT

Jason Beattie's 1938 cutter Cumulus turns heads, but there are some costly realities that come with owning a beautiful piece of history

- Jason Beattie

The motor launch headed towards us at speed across Chichester Harbour and then pulled up sharply alongside. 'Can I just say,' said a rather posh sounding man, 'she's a thing of rare beauty.

A couple of days earlier we were sailing from our home port of Brighton towards the Solent when a yacht on the port tack began bearing down on us. As the boat drew closer I bellowed 'Starboard' but to no avail. Presuming I was dealing with a novice, I gently veered away only for the other boat to readjust their course and head back towards me. I moved again and so did they. It was only when we were in spitting distance that I realised what was happening. The owner of the other yacht, sailing shorthanded, was on the deck taking photographs.

These are the delights of owning a classic boat.

Naturally, I'm prejudiced but my yacht Cumulus, a 1938 cutter built by Williams & Parkinson in Conwy, north Wales, is a thing of beauty, especially when she has all three tan sails up as was the case when she attracted the attention of my photographer friend.

Call me a fool (I prefer the word romantic) but I bought a wooden boat with my eyes open. I knew they have a tendency to leak, that the maintenance is far more time-consuming than with a plastic boat, that the upkeep is more expensive and that there is a greater likelihood that things will break, fall apart and generally go wrong.

All of this was apparent from a very early age when my parents in their wisdom decided they would like to spend their summers cruising on a 26ft wooden yacht with two small children. My holidays were spent in a cramped pipe cot, being sick in buckets and driving my mum and dad to despair by falling overboard rather too often.

ENDLESS VARNISH