We’re up bright and early to get ready for our island tour, dicing with death once more as we run the gauntlet of the water taxi. Safe on land, I wonder if I can make it one more time before we leave.
Saturday morning is exceedingly quiet in Jamestown, and I walk up the main street marvelling at the lack of people. Most of the shops shut at lunchtime and I was told yesterday that the stores have little in the way of fresh produce left by Saturdays anyway.
Photo: St Helena police station complete with canons
Photo: The archway into Jamestown from the harbour
Photo: The church and high street bustling on a Saturday morning
Robert, our guide and taxi driver is waiting for us outside the tourist office and greets us with a warm handshake and a smile before outlining the itinerary for the tour. He explains that he will stop at various places and give us ‘yarns’ and history lessons about the island – and he does. Robert can really talk, but he is an engaging man who has lived in England for some years working at a stately home in Somerset when he was a young man.
Photo: Robert with his taxi
We start off at the harbour where he points out the tip of the SS Papanui which caught fire in 1911 with 364 emigrants on board and tells us about the RFA Darkdale which was sunk in the bay by a German submarine 1n 1941. Later when we look at the war memorial which has the names of all the names and ages of the crew who died, it’s horrifying to see how many of them were under 25.
Once through Jamestown we look back – it’s an incredible sight. Nestled in a valley between two almost vertical hills, it sprawls in a thin line inland.
Photo: Jamestown
Photo: The heart-shaped waterfall
He points out houses that Napoleon stayed at when he was imprisoned on St Helena until his death. One house he only lived in for one day and another while he was waiting for Longwood House to be renovated. We then have a tour of Longwood House given by a lovely little lady called Ivy. Although some of the furniture is original, much of it is reproduction as the originals were taken back to France by a nostalgic nation.
Photo: Nelson’s parlour – he laid his maps out on the pool table
Photo: Nelson’s deathbed (with Ivy standing guard!)
Photo: Longwood House
We decline to look at Napoleon’s tomb (his body isn’t there any more – it was taken back to France about 19 years after his death) as my knee is playing up and it’s a 20 minute walk downhill which will kill it. I must have twisted it slightly when getting off the water taxi yesterday – I knew they would get me one way or another.
St Helena was formed by volcanic activity. Rising dramatically form the South Atlantic, the island has sheer barren cliffs that are intersected with deep valleys which slope steeply from the central ridges. There is little flat land and no sandy beaches. On the high central ground, bush and semi tropical vegetation is abundant although this changes to grassland and pastures before the terrain becomes drier and almost barren below 500 metres to the sea. After seeing the rocky and barren exterior of the island as we approached yesterday by sea, the interior of the island is a complete surprise, its lush beauty consistent with the higher rainfall there, some of which falls on us today. When it starts, Mike and I hastily get out of the open back of the truck and get in the cab with Robert. There’s just enough room for three.
Photo: The exposed volcanic ‘dyke’ called Lot
Photo: Lush green pastures with cattle grazing
Photo: A more volcanic looking terrain
Photo: The Boer cemetery
We visit the graveyard of the Boer POWs who arrived and were imprisoned here between 1900 and 1902 during the Anglo Boer war in South Africa.
We visit the grounds of the Governor’s residence, Plantation House, its garden complete with giant tortoises, Jonathan (the oldest one), David, Emma, Myrtle, Fredricka and Speedy, that were brought over from the Seychelles. We meet two of these who rise up on their legs when we walk up to them and allow us to stroke them.
Photo: Plantation House, the governor’s residence
Photos: Mike and I being brave – they can give quite a bite these things!
Finally we arrive at the top of Jacob’s Ladder which was constructed in 1829 to haul manure and send goods back down. It’s a long way down (699 steps) and Mike’s legs go to jelly even when standing behind the wall. I stand on the top step taking photos. If it weren’t for my knee I would give it a go (and how glad am I to have an excuse not to!).
Photos: Jacob’s ladder with the wharf and Jamestown below
We say goodbye to Robert at the distillery where we have an appointment to meet the owner at 2 pm. He makes his own spiced rum and gin, but we wait until 2.15 and he doesn’t turn up. We decide to leave as we want to get going while there is some wind. I manage to get on board Jeannius without mishap and find another cabbage on the cockpit seat left by Dick. At least if I eat all the cabbages, and we find there is no wind out at sea, I can provide my own!
Sure enough, out of the anchorage the wind dies and we have to motor, although after a few miles, once out of the shadow of the island we are able to put the sails out.
I go down to get something out of the freezer and find the bloody thing is not working again and while Mike attempts to top up the gas, a can of sprite, which was precariously balanced in a place where it should not have been (I was distracted while putting things away) falls and sprays its sticky contents everywhere.
What a great beginning to a long passage!
Our position is: 15 deg 51 min S, 06 deg 38 min W
Distance so far: 20387 nautical miles
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