22nd March 2008, Jamestown, St Helena
This was, perhaps, the first of the islands described to us as unexceptional volcanic rocks in the ocean - as in 'the east to west itinerary is more interesting because the west to east comprises a series of......'. However, we had also been told by others who had been here that it was a very interesting stop and M was looking forward to it and we had booked the tour as the most appropriate way to get around the island.
In the event all things were true. We didn't get off to a very auspicious start as the harbour road from the quay to Jamestown had suffered a rock fall (or three) and the street was strewn with boulders and works traffic as iron netting was being suspended to capture any future such activity. The capital was, on first site, a tiny village squeezed into a narrow incised valley about 150m wide and a kilometre or so long. The streets too were mainly single lane so a posse of six or so coaches and minivans (we had purloined the entire public vehicular capacity of the island) had quite an impact on the transport network. After driving through town we went up one of the roads that climbs onto the high ground from the valley and stopped near the top for a photo shoot of Jamestown, the island's fort and an impressive waterfall; impressive because it had poured down immediately before our arrival and the stream was fairly energetic. We next moved on to Napoleon's grave - which of course isn't as he was exhumed and reburied in Les Invalides in Paris. The walk down the hill was very pleasant and his first resting place was a very attractive glade purchased and managed by the French government. Following this we continued our tour to Longwood House where he lived out his remaining days. It would be inappropriate to call it a prison; it was a fine residential property. It had a range of assorted artefacts - and a gift shop - and a very interesting garden with many strange trees and shrubs, not all of them indigenous. This, too, was maintained by the French government and a tricoleur was again in evidence. This was situated adjacent to a nice triangular green on the Longwood estate but it was clear what the residents actually did to earn their livings - particularly as the island only attracts three cruise ships a year and doesn't have an airport.
We next tripped around the islands country lanes at a fairly high elevation. The landscape was quite lunar and barren in parts but also, higher up, there were areas of green pasture and also a forested national park. We stopped for a photo shoot in Sandy Bay - an oxymoron as there are no beaches on the island - but couldn't get down to the sea as the streets were too narrow. We continued our way past a couple of rural churchyards, one called St Paul's Cathedral (ha ha!) to the Governor's residence known as Plantation House. This was a fine building, again on elevated ground, with public access to the grounds within which there were a number of giant tortoises - probably from the Seychelles - one of which, Jonathan, is reputed to be over 175 years old and the oldest residence on the island. We had a wander round and took a number of beast pics as well as one of the main man's car. No, it wasn't a Roller; given the nature of the roads he satisfied himself with a very modest white Ford Escort - with the royal pennant and no number plate of course.
We moved on to the largest settlement on the island, a dispersed rural community called Halftree Hollow overlooking Jamestown on the high ground to the east. This, too, had a small fort, overlooking the main harbour. However, the main attraction was Jacob's ladder. This comprised a set of steps down to Jamestown, built originally as an inclined plane for a railway track. There were 699 steps down to the town and we decided to descend them. (Climbing up was never an option). This was about a 20 minute descent which told heavily on M's calf muscles. It was very steep and no place to fall. We eventually got down (see pic) to arrive in Jamestown. It was a little like a set on an American movie. The general stores sold everything and there was even an internet at Ann's place - which doubled as a restaurant and bar as well as an internet cafe. However, with only two machines there was no chance of a posting. So we wandered up the main street via the tourist centre, specially opened for us like other enterprises, to the only major hotel - a bit like a wild west saloon - where we had a beer. Having been given change in St Helena pounds M had to dash out and spend it on a T shirt. We were, though, told about the island distillery whilst supping our lager and decided to spend the last hour there. Established six or so years ago by Paul from Haverford West, Pembrokeshire who arrived in St Helena via the Falkland's, he bought a set of gear from a German company and set up an enterprise distilling prickly pears into a drink called Tungi. Along with his local wife whom he also met in the Falklands he has made a successful business of this activity. Unfortunately, there aren't enough raw materials to service the UK market and he supplies all his output - about 5,000 bottles per annum - to a sole distributor in Cornwall. He also made a coffee liqueur and a white vanilla flavoured rum, also in limited quantities. We bought a couple of bottles.
We retired back to MSVG and agreed this was a much more interesting stop than expected, but not really a place for a long visit; maybe a stopover to South Africa if the long-promised airport ever materialises.
