Features / Bristol Ferry Boat Company
Ferries at forty
It’s hard to imagine the Floating Harbour in its modern incarnation without the familiar blue and yellow ferries, the passengers waving to the landlubbers as they see the city from a new viewpoint.
Bristol Ferry Company are celebrating their 40th birthday this summer. The company was set up in 1977 following the regeneration of Bristol docks. This had saved the city’s maritime heritage from being filled in and turned into a ring road, but left the city desperately wanting for something that would make the harbour a real destination for Bristolians and tourists alike.
Sir Hugh Casson, architect and former president of the Royal Academy, suggested a ferry or waterbus service along the two-and-a-half mile stretch of water from Temple Meads to Hotwells, and the City Dock Ventures clubbed together to make it happen. The man they asked to run the ferries was Ian Bungard.
is needed now More than ever

Ian Bungard drives the first ferry in the late 70s
“The city council granted us a license to run a scheduled ferry service, if we were committed to running every day, from the beginning of April, until the end of September, to a published time table,” Ian says, as he and his wife Philippa sit down at Underfall Yard to talk about the story of the boats.
“At the same time, the Pill ferry was closed down because of the building of the M5 motorway bridge. They were operating a couple of boats, including Margaret, which we bought and recommissioned to work in the harbour. She became our first ferry.”
Ian did not have a background in running ferries. “I went to Naval Training School,” he says. “Taxi driver?” Philippa quips. After working as the ferry man for around a year, on behalf of City Docks Ventures, the reins were handed to Ian. “And the rest is history,” he says, face hovering in a smile before he bursts into laughter. “Well, not quite!”

Ian repaints the fleet in Bristol Harbour
Philippa came on board in 1989 (they met when she would hang her stripy washing out on her houseboat, and Ian would see it as he trundled up and down the harbour on the ferry) and together they expanded the service, firstly running at the weekends, and then all through the year.
Eventually they settled on the model they run now: 364 days of the year, to a strict timetable. Then, keen for a slower pace of life, Ian and Philippa sold 80 per cent of their company and moved away, leaving the ferries to run in their absence.
“We had a break for 10 years, naively thinking we could retire to Spain,” says Ian. “That in itself is another story,” Philippa says conspiratorially, sipping her tea. They constantly interrupt each other good naturedly, pulling the story back on track when the other wanders away with it.
“We had moved to Spain, but it didn’t quite work out. We ended up coming back for family reasons in June 2012 – and were immediately greeted by lots of people saying, ‘Help! Help! You’ve got to do something!’ The ferries were going really badly and were about to go bust. People hadn’t been paid. It was awful.
“We were like, ‘Well, we haven’t got a bean!’ – we’d lost our 20 per cent stake and we’d moved back to nothing, so we didn’t know what to do.” Philippa pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Our former business partner Rob Salvage, who had been running the company while we were away, got together a meeting at the ss Great Britain to talk about what we could do to save the ferries.”

Philippa and Ian drive the ferries during a period of turmoil for the company
The company was going into liquidation at that time and the meeting was to see if it could be averted, and whether anyone was prepared to put in any money to stop it.
At the meeting were people including John Hirst from Destination Bristol, former mayor George Ferguson (who had already bailed the boats out once before) and Alf Perry from Underfall Yard, but the much-hoped for offer of help wasn’t proffered.
“But then, something extraordinary happened,” Ian says, a touch of the storyteller about him. “We had another meeting,” Philippa continues. “Alastair Sawday was there, and he said, ‘Well, the only thing that I can see that we can do is to go away and phone up all our friends and raise enough money to buy the bloody boats back’.”
“We’re very lucky to have some rich friends!” Ian says and they both dissolve into laughter.
The liquidation of the company had progressed to the point that the boats were to be auctioned in a matter of days. “Everyone went off to call their friends, and said to us, ‘If we can do this, will you run the boats?’ Of course, we said yes.
“We love them; two of our boats, Emily and Matilda, are named after our children. So that’s what happened. In four days, they raised £150,000 between about 40 people, who became known as The Rescuers.”
With the impossible realised, and the money in the bank in December 2012, Philippa made the phone call to the auctioneer, putting in a sealed bid against six others who were after the boats. “It was a fairly random amount,” Philippa admits. “We just had to guess what the other people might offer. It was a nail-biting wait for a few days, and then, about four days before Christmas, we found out we’d got it.”
“The auctioneer phoned and said, ‘I can’t confirm it, but you could open a bottle of champagne’,” Ian recalls.

The fleet back together, following the bailout
The company was back from the brink, and, after just two months out of action, the boats took to the water again. “The boats were all sad and tied up on Hotwell Road – they’d been impounded,” Philippa says.
“Eventually the Harbour Master agreed that we could move them, and that was the weirdest day. Ian and I drove Margaret down the harbour to Mud Dock, having not been on her – our original ferry – for years.
“It was completely amazing. It’s always been a really strong ethos of ours that we run come what may, rain or shine, so we were desperate to get back up and running.”
Since the public relaunch in May 2013 that saw the fleet of ferries dancing in front of M Shed, the Bristol Ferry Boat Company has grown exponentially in strength and numbers.
“Running the ferries in 2013 compared with 2001 when we left for Spain was a very different thing. The business had grown massively, and mastering the new politics and the red tape was a steep learning curve. I’d never really run that kind of company – it was quite casual when we left, I used to pick the phone up in my pyjamas,” laughs Philippa. “Suddenly, we had 30 staff and everything that goes with that.”

Some of the Bristol Ferry Company staff celebrate
“We’ve built the business back up again and it’s hugely profitable. We’ve got a big customer base,” Ian says, and hints at exciting plans in the pipeline, including a new hybrid ferry (to enter service around Easter 2018), more outreach work, an education scheme and an increased number of volunteers.
“At the moment, the harbour is quite elitist, and all the time the crew on the boats hear, ‘Oh, I’ve lived in Bristol all my life but I’ve never been on a boat,’ or ‘I didn’t know the harbour was here’,” Philippa says. “We’re opening it up to all sorts of people, and there’s loads and loads happening.”
Throughout the history of the company, Ian and Philippa have invested in the future of Bristol: without their contribution during the challenging transition period from working port to leisure destination, it’s difficult to say whether the harbour would be what it is today – “the jewel in Bristol’s crown,” as Philippa puts it.
But one thing is in no doubt: it would be a less rich place and less of the Bristol we know and love without a vibrant blue and yellow boat chugging past on a long summer evening.
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