By Jim Cash
The island of St. Helena is probably one of the most isolated places there can be in the middle of the South Atlantic; yet it is a thriving first world civilization. It sits approximately 1,100 miles west of Africa’s Skeleton Coast and 2,200 miles east of Brazil. It’s no wonder the British Navy chose this place to exile their arch-nemesis Napoleon after his re-capture following the battle of Waterloo.
We were on a delivery of a new wildcat catamaran, from the factory in Durban, South Africa, to LA when the draw of this historic isle was too much to pass up. “Land Ho” was called out about 18:30 just as the sun was closing on the horizon for the 11th time since casting off from Africa's west coast. By 03:30 the following morning we were rounding the island’s southern most point and at 05:30 we set out a temporary anchor in Jamestown harbor. Three hours later, the St. Helena harbor patrol came to our boat, went through their cursory administrative procedures, and welcomed us to their private paradise, requesting we check in with immigration when we went ashore.
St. Helena is an oval-shaped island approximately 10 by 8 miles at its extremes. It has been populated since the early 1500s when the Portuguese navigator João da Nova established a freshwater and victual stop here on his way to and from India and the Far East. Later both the Dutch and English found St. Helena to be a refreshing rest stop as they established their own East Indies trade roots. The population has developed into what the world may very well look like in another thousand years: a melding pot of the different races and nationalities whose ancestors found their way to this tiny crossroads of the Atlantic.
The natives call themselves ‘The Saints’and they truly are, for a more friendly and gracious group of people one would be hard pressed to find anywhere. With the only opportunity for visitors, being the
RMS St. Helena supply ship that comes every other month from Cape Town, the hospitality to Yachties is unparalleled. However, the privilege to have ones passport stamped in St. Helena wasn’t cheap and served as a bellweather to the prices to come. The St. Helena currency was equivalent to the Queen’s pound sterling and prices were a huge reversal of what we had become accustomed while spending the South African rand.
When we walked over the moat bridge and through the gate of the town’s 17th century walls, it was evident the strategic military importance this island has held. We were told that the floor of the harbor holds the watery graves of everything from a Dutch man-of-war to a German U-boat. The island’s military fortifications offer a unique view of the technologies of war from the 17th century through World War II. Yet unlike the Ascension Islands, no air strip was ever built and to this day there is no airport on the island.
The RAF had a team of underwater explorers diving on the Dutch ship that was sunk by the Portuguese in 1613. They were bringing up artifacts to fill the newly created historical museum, and we were fortunate enough to be given a preview tour. We saw a perfectly preserved bronze cannon 11 feet long weighing 6,000 pounds with a bore of 138mm that had been brought up a few years before by a team of divers.
A few paces from the museum is the foot of what is affectionately called Jacob’s ladder, a 700-step stairway (11 inches per step) that ascends from the town’s center to the crest of the cliffs over-looking the harbor. These steps are all that is left of the rail tram that was built to haul huge cannons and ammunition to the military battery at the cliff’s summit. There is an unspoken challenge to all visitors to climb Jacob’s ladder, and after 12 days at sea we couldn’t pass it up.
At the top of the climb we were rewarded with homemade “ice lollies” (Popsicles) from Mr. and Mrs. Clinham’s Ladder Hill general store. At 50 pence each, they were clearly the best bargain on the island. Hoping a heart attack from the climb could be postponed, we sucked on the deliciously sweet icy treat and took in the awesome view from the vista over-looking James Bay and imagined the sea battles that took place on the water below.
After our return from Ladder hill, we went to dinner at Anne’s . The island was at the very end of its supply period. The ship was expected the following day, and all the shops were low on provisions. The only meal Anne could offer us was her famous fish cakes, since these were made with the local catch. We ate until stuffed and washed them down with cold Hansas (South African Beer.) Any restaurants in Maryland could take a lesson or two from Anne’s on St. Helena.
We spent a rocky night on the bay and awoke to the sound of heavy anchor chain playing out, and the sight of RMS St. Helena preparing to disembark the island’s two-month supply of provisions. We got the added treat of seeing the famous red racing sloop Merlin, on its way to England, being temporally offloaded to gain access to the ship’s cargo holes. Throughout the day the Lighter’s came and went bringing in the supplies. The docks were loaded with everything from fresh produce to new cars as we made our way from the dinghy dock on our way to meet our driver for the anxiously awaited automobile tour of the inland.
We climbed into the back of his converted Range Rover complete with benches and canopy. Our tour started with a drive through the center of town, and a long climb up the switchback road carved into the walls of the cliffs shrouding the town. We stopped momentarily at a scenic overlook giving us the view of the historic town and harbor, with the RMS St. Helena anchored in the background.
Our first extended stop was at the house the English built for Napoleon during his exile. We were the first visitors that day, and after locating the caretaker, had the house to ourselves. I’m not normally superstitious, or believe in predestination, but the date of our tour happened to be May 5. We could have chosen the day before or the day after for our tour. When viewing Napoleon’s deathbed, there was a plaque in the floor at the base of the bed denoting the date Napoleon died, you guessed it, May 5, in the year 1821.
The four-hour tour took us to all the Island’s highlights. In addition to Napoleon’s house we visited the Governor’s mansion where a trio of giant turtles, the eldest reported to be in excess of 150 years, roamed the grounds. We also saw Halley’s observatory (Halley’s comet) where, in 1676 he went to St. Helena to map the stars of the Southern hemisphere. The grounds of the POW camps from the Boer and Zulu wars are now pastures with holsteins peacefully eating clover in the afternoon sun. And, we were shown the spot for the elusive airport that the Saints believe will be built....next year...or the year after… or sometime.
The problem with a delivery is that there is a schedule that must be kept. Our visit to the land of the Saints
had to come to an end far too soon. After a late lunch with Anne (with a stock of new provisions, we still opted for the fish cakes again), we lifted anchor and pointed our duel bows toward the western horizon. As the sun sank again below the surface, the peaks of the St. Helena hills were dipping below the eastern horizon.
What a pleasure it was to share a small bit of the lives of these saintly people of St. Helena. I wish them well and hope to get a chance to return one day to their wonderful private paradise. I for one hope the airport never comes.
About the author: Jim Cash is a retired insurance executive. He now lives is Southern California where he’s active as a professional yacht captain and a sailing instructor. He also teaches marketing for the University of Phoenix and does freelance writing. Look for his book First Time Across, which includes many of the stories you've read here on SailNet, to hit the stands soon.
Connect with Facebook
