Skyelark of London - 5. The Enchanted Isle

5. The Enchanted Isle

by our resident Blogger - Tim

At 9am on the 17th St Helena appeared in grey outline on the horizon. Good
progress had been made overnight with Sjaak at the helm. Arabela were just
getting in and advised of strong gusty winds of up to 40 knots as the trade
winds scythed around the island. Dan cooked pancakes to get us set up for
our arrival. Options were to reef down or down the main and go in on the
foresail. Choosing the latter we had a good run in and moored on buoy 16 in
the harbour at around 3pm. Owl and Tulla Mhor came in later that evening.
But if it had been a race - and allowing for handicap and engine time - we
are confident we knew who had won. Beers all round.

St Helena is one the remotest islands on earth - 1,200 miles from African
Angola and 2,000 from Brazil. It is roughly oval and 10 miles by 5 miles.
Discovered by the Portuguese in 1502 the first Englishman to visit was a
Thomas Cavendish in 1588. At that time there was only one resident, a
mutilated and 'gone native' Portuguese renegade called Fernao Lopez.
Cavendish wrote of his visit to the lonely forbidding island on his return
to Britain and this text is claimed to have given Shakespeare the idea for
The Tempest, published 1611, with Lopez as the pivotal Caliban. 'Oh Brave
New World!!'
After being briefly occupied by the Dutch, the British established the first
permanent presence in 1659; since then it has been of strategic importance,
particularly for servicing sailing trading ships of old.
Over the years the population rose and fell with freed slaves, 6,000 Boer
prisoners, and was a place of exile for Napoleon, 13 Zulu chiefs and as
recently as 1957 three Bahraini nationalists. The population today is around
5,000.

With the opening of the Suez Canal and invention of nylon in the 1960s
killing of the key flax industry, the economy is very weak. Hopes are pinned
on tourism but the fiasco of the new airport where it is said locally that
expensive consultants did not take local advice regarding wind shear,
meaning that the hoped for big jets from the UK cannot land, has dampened
prospects.
Having cleared customs on board, a water taxi is taken into Jamestown to
clear immigration. Asking customs lady Delmarie about the real challenges of
living on an isolated island, she put me in my slightly patronising box by
commenting 'We only have one real problem - parking'!

The wharf cannot have changed for many years - all cranes and sheds built
into the rock face. The cliffs are covered in heavy steel mesh to prevent
rock falls but a number of memorials in the church and around town indicate
that it is still a real hazard. Apart from a weekly plane for Johannesburg,
the only connection is via the RMS St Helena (the last Royal Mail ship)
which until this week plied - 5 days each way - to and from Cape Town. It
has now been withdrawn to be replaced by a monthly cargo vessel - but there
are fears the new jetty will not work - 'as local advice has not been taken
ref unpredictable tides and swell!

To get into town you cross a dried up moat and go under the town walls
through the still functioning town gate - the only way in. Inside is a
revelation. a wide mainstreet with Georgian houses on either side - the old
wooden town was totally destroyed by white ants/termites in the early 1800s
which came in off a captured slave ship. There is as small castle (Parking
for Governor only), an old Church, prison and flowers, trees and the buzz of
life. But the town is all built on the narrow strip of land in the valley
and the grey cliff walls are all around. Most people live at the top of the
700ft hill in Half Tree Hollow - a half mile very steep drive or the 699
step, 45 degree, extraordinary Jacob's Ladder.

Clear immigration. Have some food at Ann's Cafe - a good base with even a
Welsh flag on the ceiling and back to tidy Skyelark who needs a bit of tlc
after a long voyage. Sharon booked into the Consulate Hotel, wise woman!

Napoleon was exiled to St Helena in October 1815 after the battle of
Waterloo. He initially stayed with the Balcombe family at 'The Briars' for a
few months before moving to Longwood where he died in May 1821. He was
buried in a beautiful valley before being exhumed in 1840, with full
military honours, to be taken to Paris to be greeted by a million mourners.
They say his death was caused by stomach cancer but rumours still exist that
he was poisoned with arsenic - especially as his body appeared not to have
deteriorated when exhumed, apparently supporting the arsenic theory.

Next day an island and Napoleonic tour had been booked. The mode of
transport was a 1929 Chevrolet open top wooden bus, which arrived on the
island in 1930, seating 12. A delight as the 6 litre engine pulled us up
the grey slope form the town. Even more of a delight was the once above
1,000 ft the island changed to one of lush vegetation, flowers, wild birds.
Nasturtiums tumbled along the road side, fuchsias were everywhere. And there
were lots of birds but the Madagascar Fody - if canaries came in red this is
it - stole my heart. It was an enchanted isle.

The two houses - 'Briars' and 'Longwood' - were really interesting. Both
typical English county houses of the period, they are now owned and
maintained by the French whose flag proudly flies. Napoleon entertained, had
his favourite wines brought in and rode all over island. He was guarded by
3,000 British troops. Of particular note was the bath tub - a huge affair as
Napoleon had terrible piles and wrote most of his memoirs in the bath.
Napoleon asked to be buried in the Sane Valley in really beautiful place,
surrounded by flowers and huge Norfolk pines.

That afternoon we do an island tour ending up at Plantation House the home
of the lady Governor. In her garden resides Jonathon, possibly the world's
oldest reptile. He was given to St Helena when he was a mature giant
tortoise aged 50 in 1882 by the Seychelles. He is now in his 180s! He as
three friends - bit like an old peoples' home, all careful walking and
wrinkly necks! Some of us are almost there.
That evening there was an ARC pre dinner drink at bar at the top of Jacob's
Ladder. 699 steps up and down took their toll. Most of the other boats took
taxis - but not the A team of Dan, Em, Sharon, Hermann, Sjaak and Tim!
Steak, dinner, a champagne toast to my brother George on his funeral day,
and bed.

Our final day to climb Diana's Peak, the high point on the island. A misty
morning but good for walking. A well trodden path up past Halley's
observatory from where he spotted his comet in 1677 (so many people have
been here - Captain Cook, Captain Bligh of Bounty fame, Duke of Wellington,
Charles Darwin - and loads of royals!!) The top was in mist but it was a
good walk amid the stunning, almost alpine scenery. 'Solo' joined us. Lovely
lady.

Back via High Knoll Fort to get a view of the island as the mist had
cleared. A pizza and dance at a bar on the harbour followed - courtesy of
the St Helena Tourist Board. And water taxi back to Skyelark.
The forecast is good as Skyelark is hosed down for departure. Clear customs
and immigration, visit museum, a farewell at Ann's and back to Skyelark.
Skyelark and one or two others are going direct to Cabedelo in Brazil not
via Salvador where most of the fleet are headed. There have been mixed
reports from previous cruisers about Salvador at Carnival time and
Cabedelo, a small Brazilian resort about 50 miles north of Recife, has had
good reviews - it also happens to be around 500 miles shorter, and misses
some rather unpleasant head winds which may have something to do with it!

At 5pm, Skyelark leaves her mooring and starts the 1,800 mile voyage west
to Brazil. As the sun sets the enchanted isle vanishes into the gloaming, as
if it had never been.