16:39.83S 008:55.42W St. Helena
Irene IV - World Adventure
Louis Goor
Sat 28 Jan 2023 19:22
St. Helena
The kite is up, and we are hurtling along at a steady 8 knots on a due
westerly course. Next stop Salvador on the east coast of Brazil, just in
time for Carnaval!
At 16:45 yesterday, 27th January, we tore ourselves away from the delights
of St. Helena and set sail for a long passage of 2,000 miles. Jobs aboard
done, laundry collected, provisioning complete and bills paid, we felt good
about plunging forward into the vast expanse of blue, both below and above
the boat. A small cavalry of dolphins bid us farewell as we departed the
somewhat rollie conditions of St. James Bay.
St. Helena is a very small British overseas territory. The island is a mere
47 square miles and is one of the remotest places on Earth. For hundreds of
years St. Helena was an important re-provisioning port for shipping
travelling the world. Situated 1,200 from the west coast of Africa, 2,000
miles from the east coast of Brazil and 4,500 south of Paris, it made the
perfect location for Britain to exile the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. After
his defeat at Waterloo in June 1815, he and his French entourage set sail in
August arriving in Jamestown, the capital of St. Helena, in October. We
visited Longwood House, where Napoleon resided for most of his exile, until
his death in 1821. The house was and still is beautifully appointed, with
specially crafted furniture and fixtures made by the most celebrated British
artisans of the time. The house sits in a pastoral location, surrounded by
gardens, walks, and dramatic views. Although the house was not well
insulated and was often very hot in summer and bitter cold in winter,
Napoleon had every comfort necessary for a man of his caliber at that time
in history. We all commented that an exile with this level of comfort might
be quite nice! Longwood House and Napoleon’s self-chosen tomb site, Sane
Valley, all sit on French territory. So, for a few hours yesterday morning,
we were in France! We, with the crews of Intrepid and Makara, had a très
French picnic on the lawn of Napoleon’s home, including a spot of vin blanc
and some petits macarons. We were ferried to Longwood House and around the
island in an old Chevrolet truck/bus by the almost toothless Colin. Despite
his lack in the tooth department, he was able to impart little stories of
island life and be understood. He has been driving this vintage vehicle for
50 years and his father for 60 years before him. At first, we were nervous,
as nothing in St. Helena is flat, you are either driving up a steep hill or
down a steep hill, but Colin’s careful and expert driving put us at ease.
St. Helena is an island of dramatic shifts, from the sea level town of
Jamestown, with its high medieval wall surrounded by a moat, nestled in a
narrow valley flanked by steep volcanic hillsides constantly threatening a
rock fall, to the rolling bucolic dales towards the south and east. We were
greeted by an arid, stark St. Helena and we later got to know a pastoral
paradise with rich arable soil. The St. Helenians are a resourceful bunch.
With few visitors, a French consul, and a British Governor to accommodate, a
supply ship that comes every 3 months, and a delicate ecosystem to guard and
take care of, they have their work cut out for them. It seems that all
decisions are made on their behalf in Westminster. Often these decisions are
made with little research and little consultation with the locals on the
ground. Hence, a break water in Rupert’s Bay was erected in the wrong
orientation and does not hold the waves back at all. Additionally, a very
large fuel tank, which far exceeds any need the island could have, even if
they had double the population, sits idle, and the fuel has now succumbed to
bacterial infestations and is rendered useless. All the multiple millions of
pounds needed to build these mistakes are funded by the British taxpayer. A
travesty and a monumental waste.
Despite their challenges, the folk of St. Helena with their oft sing song
accent, are ever cheerful, very friendly, with a strong sense of community
and glowing pride. Never do you pass a local on the footpath, without a
hearty hello and a wide smile.
Now we sally forth, the fortunate five aboard our trusty Irene IV, Rob,
Giles, Liz, Bonga and moi, and look forward to further explorations in the
southern Atlantic Ocean.