Saturday 30 April 2011

Ascension Island

Saturday, 30th April on Ascension Island was a day of great contrasts - I arrived by sea in the morning and departed, later the same day, by RAF Flight. Ascension Island is only small but it turned out to be one of the oddest places I've visited.

I went on deck first thing and the island was in sight, with proper mountains dotted around. Artificial lights were apparent in places and, as we approached, various structures became apparent. Each hilltop was crowned by a 'golfball' - the radome provided on some radar and communications antennas to protect them from the weather - so it was clear that Ascension's role as a 'listening post' in the Atlantic remained significant.

At seven o'clock, I went below to the dining room for the last opportunity to enjoy the cooked breakfast. By the time I was back on deck, the crew were preparing the gangway and a motorised pontoon was making ponderous progress towards us through a somewhat more lively sea. We learned that there was some sort of problem lowering the anchor and we eventually hove-to further out than is usual. At last, the first pontoon was able to come alongside by the gangway for transferring passengers but it was a little off-putting to note that one moment the end of the gangway was neatly touching the deck of the pontoon and, seconds later, there was a gap of a couple of feet between the end of the gangway and the pontoon. Various other pontoons now appeared to deal with the cargo containers and a passenger launch tied up at the first pontoon, discharging a number of dockers who would assist the ship's crew in the unloading process.

People with low-numbered landing passes (including the writer) were summoned to the gangway and we hastily made our final goodbyes to passengers and crew we'd leave behind. There was plenty of assistance to aid our transfer from gangway to pontoon and then from pontoon to launch. The secret, of course, was timing. The boatmen would hold us back until gangway and pontoon or pontoon and launch were suitably aligned and then command us to move. Within a few minutes, the launch was full and we pulled away from R.M.S. 'St. Helena' with her cranes already working on the cargo.

The launch was headed for a stubby jetty with a single road-mounted unloading crane. It was strange to recognise the scene as, before my trip, I'd looked at the Ascension Island Webcam which shows the jetty and crane from the landward side. We approached a set of steps cut into the jetty and the vertical motion between boat and jetty was rather off-putting. Again, the boatman timed our movement and there were plenty of hands offering support so regaining dry land was easier than I expected.

A short walk across the jetty took us to a stone-built shed with double doors and a sign 'Welcome to Ascension'. Inside the shed, our luggage was waiting for us so, having successfully found both my bags, it was on to immigration. Formalities were pleasant and brief so I was soon back in the sunshine meeting up with my Texan friends. We were met by the friendly driver of the people carrier from the Obsidian Hotel and he took our luggage. We'd booked a brief tour of the island and Natasha, from the Conservation Department, was waiting with a Land Rover. We bundled into the Land Rover for the five minute drive to the Obsidian Hotel to check-in and pay for our day rooms. Within a few minutes, we were back in the Land Rover. The 'bug-hunters' from England had decided to join our tour so, having picked them up, Natasha drove through the town on the road leading to the air field.

A well-maintained road soon brought us to the start of the United States base on Ascension. A neat, illuminated sign read 'U.S. Air Force Ascension Auxiliary Air Field'. What was lacking was the usual surrounding fencing and a Guard Post. We just carried on past what looked like accommodation blocks and administration blocks. We knew we were in the heart of the camp when we passed the 'PX' (Post Exchange), but everywhere appeared deserted as we drove by. A side road lead to what was signposted as the airstrip passenger terminal but we continued on the main road passing another sign, facing the other way, reading 'U.S. Air Force Ascension Auxiliary Air Field' so we'd left the Base.

Natasha said that she would take us to nearby Mars Bay. The well-made road ended and we were soon bouncing over volcanic rocks and sand, heading towards the sea. The only reminder of the base behind us was a substantial earth cable laid on the surface and leading to the ocean. We parked near a small fenced-off area protecting an unusual flora which was attempting to establish itself and walked under blazing sun across the lunar landscape. We passed a sign saying 'Sooty Terns Nesting - Please Do Not Drive' and stopped short of a huge, noisy colony of birds either standing on the rocky ground or swooping through the air. The incessant calling of the birds gives rise to their local nickname 'wideawakes', the name given to the nearby airstrip. The birds were flying low over our heads, but it did not seem to be threatening behaviour to drive us away - rather, they simply ignored us. As we walked back to the Land Rover, we came upon a number of abandoned eggs and, scurrying through the rocks, a centipede about five inches long. Whilst exploring the foreshore, we'd been surprised by the brief roar of a jet engine. As we drove back through the camp, we saw a large Air Italy passenger jet had arrived - we'd heard the noisy reverse thrust as he landed.

The road now took us around the landward side of the camp and airfield and we passed many different designs of radio antenna presumably eavesdropping on many different frequencies. We passed the diesel-powered generating station which supplied the base and airfield and caught sight of a group of modern wind generators further inland.

The well-kept road led us to a plateau looking down on the airstrip. Here, the American base commander had a spacious, single-storey home. The runway had been built between a number of hills and the airfield control tower looked odd perched on one of these hills (although it must command a splendid view). The earliest standard night time aid to landing aircraft was the 'Pundit' - a rotating beacon alternating white and green. Usually, this is mounted on the roof of the control tower but I was intrigued that, at Ascension, it is mounted on a tall post near to the Base Commander's house.

We drove back to the main road and continued our tour. Each turn in the road revealed a stunning new vista and, as we climbed Nasa Road, the temperature dropped and the vegetation became lusher. At one point, we were driving above the clouds which swirled between the hills. The road ended at the Challenger Centre, originally build by NASA as a tracking station in connection with the Apollo Space Flights but long since disused. The antennas have been removed but the substantial concrete main building found a new use, converted as a weekend centre by the First Ascension Island Scouts. However, it appeared that Nature was taking over again. We clambered back into the Land Rover and moved off, but Natasha suddenly stopped because she'd spotted a Land Crab in the grass at the side of the road. The crab was a remarkable sight - pale blue with orange legs and two claws - one enlarged and capable of delivering a nasty injury. It didn't take kindly to being closely observed by humans and scuttled away sideways. When a tree blocked its path, to our amazement, it backed up the trunk until it was about five feet above the ground where it just stayed until we'd all taken photographs and returned to the Land Rover. A remarkable encounter.

Next, we made our way to Traveller's Hill, where the RAF personnel and families live. The larger single-storey houses would not have been out of place in a modern English development but there was also simpler accommodation which appeared to be shipping-container sized units supplied fully installed and then provided with an overhanging steel roof because of the fierce sun to be expected. There were also a number of large buildings containing shops or other community facilities. This really looked like England with numerous families engaged in Saturday shopping.

We carried on through Two Boats - more pleasant houses and the Island's school - and then One Boat. Once, disused boats had been set up at these locations, giving rise to the names. The originals are long gone but a replacement has been set up at One Boat decorated, for some unfathomable reason, with bowling trophies. One Boat is home to the Island's Golf Course. The volcanic terrain is not conducive to golf course design and at one time the course had the distinction of being called 'the worst course in the world'. From here, we took the road to English Bay, passing more exotic aerial installations.

Improbably, this is BBC territory (yes, the British Broadcasting Corporation). A series of tall transmitter masts radiate the World Service to Africa and, I think, South America. Two satellite dishes form the BBC Atlantic Relay Earth Station. The BBC operate a large, modern desalinisation plant and a diesel power station which both serve the island. English Bay has a beach of white, fine sand which was blowing everywhere when we visited surrounded by black volcanic rocks. It's a popular spot for swimming and diving. Natasha drove us back to the Obsidian after a brief, but fascinating, glimpse of the contrasts on this small, remote island.

At the hotel, the lady receptionist advised us that our flight to Brize Norton would be two hours late and so our transfer to the air field would be at 5 p.m., not 3 p.m. She advised us that there would be no food available at the hotel until the evening and that the 'Tasty Tucker' Cafe a couple of hundred yards away would close at 2 p.m. Reception then closed for the day so there was no opportunity to find out about their advertised internet service or puchase books or souvenirs from the Hotel Shop!

My accommodation was fine for a few hours stay. There was a rather spartan shower room with wash hand basin and W.C., a bedroom with a decent double bed and a sitting room with settee, an odd assortment of furniture and a small television. I didn't switch the television on but my Texan friends reported only three channels of indifferent technical quality. There were open french windows with closed screen doors in the bedroom and sitting room and, aided by a powerful portable electric fan in the bedroom, the temperature was quite comfortable although it remained hot outside.

I'd agreed to join my Texan friends for lunch so we walked across to the 'Tasty Tucker' before it closed. I had a decent omelette and chips, not knowing quite when I'd eat again! A number of the passengers who'd landed from the R.M.S. 'St. Helena' seemed to be eating here. In fact, it was the only place in town showing any sign of life apart from the St. Helena Club across the road. After lunch, my Texan friends were made welcome in the Club but I decided to explore on my own. I showered and liberally applied sun block before venturing into the afternoon sun.

My Hotel seemed to be one of the largest group of buildings in town. The main block with Reception was of two-storey, concrete construction. I was in the adjacent older single storey building which included the Anchor Inn, the Anchorage Restaurant and a number of bedrooms. When we first arrived, there had been a number of people sitting in the open verandah section of the Anchor but, by the time I started my exploration, they’d disappeared. In addition, there was at least one more building with accommodation forming part of the Obsidian. In addition to the hotel name appearing on the front of the main block, superimposed on a blue silhouette of the island’s coastline, a large ship’s anchor had been set up on the approach road lettered ‘Obsidian’.

There was also an old buoy lettered ‘The Anchor Inn’ which fascinated me since it retained its original owner’s brass identification plate marked ‘Eastern Telegraph Company Ltd. London No. 263’. At the start of the telecommunications era, Ascension was an important relay station and I believe the first submarine cable via Ascension was completed in 1899, operated by the Eastern Telegraph Company. This company later became part of Cable and Wireless which still has a major presence on the island, operating a large satellite ground station and the local telephone network.

Looking along the main road to the airfield, I could see the nicely-proportioned Ascension Island Government building, two storey with modest arcading and cement quoins, Union Flag fluttering from the flagpole. The building looked quite handsome painted white, although I was not so sure about the pink quoins and details. Next was the large utilitarian offices of Cable and Wireless and, further away, the Conservation Department building. I started walking in the opposite direction, towards Long Beach and the sea, passing the St. Helena Club. The music emanating from the club was the only sound disturbing the quiet of the hot afternoon. On my right was the Magistrate’s Court, in typical colonial style with a long verandah at the front. As decoration, two bomb casings stood sentry (at least, I hope they were bomb casings, not live bombs). Next, I passed the white-painted building of the St. Helena Police Service (Ascension’s civil administration, like that of remote Tristan da Cuhna, is provided through St. Helena). I detoured to look inside St. Mary’s Church. Building commenced in 1843 when the British military presence was strong. Next to the church, there’s a large parade ground surfaced with the black gravel that appears everywhere. The arcaded, white-painted barracks, complete with bell tower, faced the parade ground but is currently unused. I continued towards Fort Hayes, passing a neat estate of rather utilitarian housing.

The Fort and the adjacent Museum, I knew, had closed at 12.30 but there was still a little to see. I’d assumed that there was no ‘railway’ on Ascension but the Museum had 2 foot gauge wagons and a length of track on display outside. Apparently, in 1923 the English Bay Company started digging out guano from Boatswain Bird Island for export as fertilizer. The tracks extended from the mining site to a jetty at the south end of English Bay. There had also been a railway at the Pierhead in Georgetown.

Climbing the hill behind the Museum, I passed the Ascension Hospital, which looked like another relic of the British military put to good use. I rejoined the main road by Cable and Wireless and continued past the government building towards Long Beach. I assumed that the comfortable-looking house with verandah and another Union Flag flying was the residence of the Island Administrator. On the hillside, I noticed two black and white striped poles, presumably ‘day marks’, to be lined up by an approaching ship to find a safe channel. There was also a pyramidal obelisk but I did not discover whether this is memorial or daymark. I passed a rather bleak-looking shop in the nature of the ‘Company Store’. It was, of course, closed. Finally, I came to Long Beach, regarded as a globally important nesting site for the endangered green turtle. The females come ashore at night to lay eggs so there was no danger of disturbing a turtle. Long Beach is a exquisite, timeless spot. The view of the R.M.S. ‘St. Helena’ at anchor a few hundred yards out did not jar, only the white sphere of the radome at the far side of the bay seemed out of place.

As I made my way back towards the Pierhead and the remains of Fort Thornton, I passed a sewage outfall pipe (probably abandoned) which was being used as a highway by a procession of small green crabs heading for the sea. The remnants of the Turtle Ponds are a depressing reminder of man’s relationship with nature. In the 19th century, turtles were captured and kept alive in the ponds until required to re-supply ships. Having made brief inspection of the stone buildings on the Pierhead, I returned to the hotel across the Parade Ground. The walk had left me tired and rather sticky, so I had another shower, a couple of cups of tea (the sitting room had the means to make tea or coffee) and a brief lie-down before completing my packing.

At five o’clock those flying out assembled, with luggage, at the hotel reception and the driver who’d met us at Pierhead in the morning loaded up the suitcases and drove us to the airfield. The town and military camp seemed as deserted as ever but, as we pulled up at the Passenger Terminal, there were quite a few people apparently queuing to enter the building. With a sinking feeling, I joined the queue but, after a few minutes, a member of the RAF Operations Staff came out to give an apology. With camouflage dress and boots, he wasn’t quite what I’m used to at airports but he regretted that the ‘Rapiscan’ baggage scanner had broken down, introducing some delay because bags were having to be hand searched. This prompt information lifted the mood and it wasn’t long before an employee from ‘Serco’ (the security contractor) was searching my bags. He was also so pleasant that it was impossible to be cross. Another RAF man was manning Check-In and he displayed the same courteshttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gify. When planning the trip, I’d tried to book their ‘Premium Economy’, because I was a bit worried about a long flight with a narrow seat pitch. I’d been told it wasn’t possible so was resigned to making the best of things. I was thus surprised and delighted to be told I’d been allocated what they call a ‘Wide Seat’. I passed into the Departure Hall provided with seats, wide screen television, a ‘NAAFI’ Shop and ‘NAAFI’ Snack Bar. Even better, there was an outdoor waiting area provided with seats and tables giving an excellent view of the apron. There was a single grey-liveried jet transport aircraft on the apron. I afterwards identified it as a Pratt and Whitney powered C17A ‘Globemaster’ (more information here).

The evening was warm and pleasant and I remained surprisingly relaxed. Our flight arrived from the Falklands and slowly taxied to the stand. Steps were placed against the aircraft and all passengers, including transit, disembarked and joined us in the waiting area. Meanwhile, vehicles moved across the tarmac to deal with luggage and refuel the aircraft. I think a few of the disembarking passengers went through immigration, but most were waiting to re-board for the onward flight to Brize Norton. Servicemen are told to wear ‘civvies’ on these flights so it’s not possible to be sure which passengers are in the forces. I was amused by posters displayed around the terminal warning servicemen not to discuss their activities since they might be talking to civilians! It reminded me of the famous ‘Fougasse’ poster from the second world war ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives’.

Eventually, the aircraft was ready for boarding. Since the steps had been placed at the front of the aircraft, it was logical that they called passengers in blocks from the rear seats first. By now it was dark but still warm. Lights twinkled on all the surrounding hills and red aircraft warning beacons marked the location of the ‘golfballs’. As I walked across the apron to the aircraft, I was happy to be going home, but sad to leave Ascension, a tiny island which had served up so many contrasts in just one day.

The aircraft was a Boeing 767-300ER in Air Seychelles livery. The first four rows were laid out with 2+2+2 fully reclining seating and I was in 4A. The seat next to me was empty until just before take-off when a middle-aged lady shot forward from row 5 (the start of the narrow seats) to occupy 4B. This, plus the friendliness of the crew convinced me that she was herself cabin staff or similar. This seemed confirmed when she had a special meal which I notice was marked 'For Auntie Janine'. Although we spoke briefly, she spent most of the flight talking to the cabin crew at the front of the aircraft. We had a simple snack meal and later in the flight a simple but reasonable main meal. 'Up front' we were given portable TV screens which gave a fair range of entertainment. I watched one film (it must have been good - I can't remember the title) and then managed a few hours sleep.

We arrived at Brize Norton about 6.15 a.m. Luggage arrived promptly, formalities were quick and Alan was waiting to take me home. An excellent end to a most enjoyable and thought-provoking trip. The ship was great, St. Helena was fascinating but Ascension made a strong impression.

Ascension is a 'closed' area - although British Territory I needed an Entry Permit to visit the island as well as my full British Passport. The total population ohttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giff Ascension is around 1,000, most of whom are fairly short-term residents on contract to the U.S. Air Force, the RAF, Cable and Wireless or the BBC. I believe that there is still no 'Right of Residence' on Ascension, even for those born there. When it's so difficult to enter and leave the island (a fact which no doubt appeals to those responsible for the various electronic spying activities), it's perhaps clearer why the base has no obvious security. Then, there's the complication of an American base on British soil. A Wikipedia article here gives some background. I also found the old NASA Tracking Station interesting as 'industrial archaeology' of the recent past. There's more information here and on the Old Scout Site here. Ascension also has a role as a tracking station for missile testing by the Americans in the South Atlantic. Incidentally, Ascension Island has its own Newspaper - the On-Line version is here.

My Ascension Island pictures.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Friday 29 April 2011

Last Day at Sea

[Originally posted by e-mail from the ship and edited on my return to the UK]

Friday, 29th April

I woke up during the night due to a change in the engine noise at about twenty past two in the morning. The single engine we were still running on for economy slowed and then stopped. Checking through the porthole confirmed that we were no longer making progress and the ship became more 'lively' as she responded to the moderate waves. I considered getting dressed and trying to get more information but, in fact, I stayed in bed and dropped off to sleep again. Waking some time later, I was relieved to discover that an engine was running again and that we were once again making 'way'. So I went back to sleep again.

Friday was our last full day at sea so it was necessary to make preparations for landing on Ascension. The 'Ocean Mail', the ship's daily 'newspaper' contained, in addition to details of the days activities, information on the collection of luggage for transhipment ashore and details of the procedures for landing on Ascension.

At ten o'clock, a Galley Tour had been arranged. The Chef conducted a party of about eight around his stainless steel domain. With a staff of six, the sheer hard work involved in catering for passengers and crew was impressive. The chef himself starts at 5.00 a.m. preparing soup and, with short breaks, continues throughout the day. Various types of bread are baked daily, using 24 kg of flour a day. Each 'station' within the galley caters for a different type of food. The variety of menu and the consistent quality of the food has been an outstanding feature of this trip.

The public address advised us that there would be a Crew Drill at 10.30 a.m., not involving passengers. Sure enough, the Ships Alarm sounded and the crew moved to their appointed stations. The scenario was that thick smoke had been seen coming from a 'Reefer' (refrigerated container) on deck on the port side. A little later, supplementary information came over the public address that the smoke was toxic and only crew wearing 'BA Sets' (Breathing Apparatus) could approach the incident. From a suitable vantage point, we could see two crew members lying on the deck apparently incapacitated by fumes after having run out a red canvas fire hose prior to tackling the problem. Eventually a rescue party arrived, helped the casualties to their feet and they slowly made their way inside. A party of three firefighters appeared on deck and one was in touch with the bridge by mobile radio. A second fire hose was run-out, fitted with a long nozzle tube which appeared to finish in a spray head. One member of the party opened the container door whilst the second used the spray head to address the supposed fire. Of course, there was no actual fire and no water was used but it was still a fascinating simulation.

There was a Shuffleboard Contest in the morning but I didn't see much of it because I'd agreed to join Roy from Bath in the pool. By the time I was ready for the water, some youngsters who'd joined the ship at St. Helena were making use of the pool so it was a little bit crowded but quite good fun. The water was warmer than on any of the previous occasions I'd used the pool. After the swim, I had a quick shower and then it was time for lunch. My Texan friends and I were joined by a British lady doctor who'd just completed three months working in the hospital on St. Helena and was also hoping to be on the Saturday evening flight from Ascension.

Documentation for landing on Ascension is every bit as complex as at St. Helena. I had to complete a Landing Card and Customs Form in addition to being in possession of an Ascension Island Entry Permit (which I'd obtained before I left the UK), a valid passport and adequate travel insurance. They also charge an £11.00 fee. The Purser issued me with 'Landing Permit No. 3' intended to ensure transfer ashore in the first launch. Apparently, at Ascension the landing by launch also attracts a fee of £5.50! The Texans and I hoped to be taken to the Obsidian Hotel where Day Rooms had been reserved. If all went well, we hoped to get a whistle-stop tour of the island before showering at the hotel and being transferred to Wideawake Airstrip for our flight back to the U.K.

Sailing to Ascension pictures.< /p>

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Sailing to Ascension

[Originally posted by e-mail from the ship and edited on my return to the UK]

Thursday, 28th April

Last night, the ship set sail just before 6.0 p.m. and headed NNW towards Ascension Island with 67 passengers and 58 crew. On this leg, the majority of the passengers are 'Saints' (inhabitants of St. Helena) travelling to work on Ascension Island or the Falkland Islands or perhaps the U.K. Only a few were, like me, tourists. The 'feel' on this part of the voyage was a little different, slightly more that of a passenger ferry. But the splendid standard of meals and service was unchanged. With fewer passengers, only one dinner sitting was required and this was at 7.30 p.m. I had been placed on a table with my two friends from Texas and three 'joiners' - entymologists who had been conducting a preliminary study of the unique insect life to be found on St. Helena with a view to specifying follow-up studies to be carried out later. The entymologists, the Texans and I all hoped to catch the 1815 hours flight from Ascension to Brize Norton on Saturday. Originally, I was to stay on Ascension for 3 nights and catch the Tuesday flight but we had all been told some time ago that the flight had been cancelled and this still appeared to be the case - an English couple who had hoped to return to the UK on the Tuesday flight had now been told they would have to stay on Ascension until the subsequent flight on Friday. We were all aware that these RAF flights are subject to delay or cancellation at short notice and we were keeping fingers crossed that our arrangements worked out.

I gathered that we'd been running on one main engine for some time (with the other variable-pitch propeller 'feathered' to prevent drag) both for fuel economy and to ensure that we didn't arrive at Ascension in the middle of the night.

Breakfast on Thursday was the usual full English spread I'd become accustomed to. I realised that returning home would be something of a shock to the system. During the morning there was another cricket match between the Passengers and the Officers. Although the Officers won again, the margin was much closer this time.

After a bit of pottering about, checking e-mails, sorting photographs and completing my write-up for yesterday, it was time for lunch. During the afternoon, I decided to have another swim. The sea was definitely a little more active than it had been south of St. Helena and the movement of the hull meant that the water in the pool was regularly 'sloshing' from one end to the other. The shop had discounted its Easter Eggs, so I decided to treat myself!

Dinner on Thursday had been advertised as a 'Fish and Chip Supper' on the Sun Deck. Around 6.30 p.m. the crew started to set up a serving line in the Sun Lounge and tables with red and white check tablecloths on the open Sun Deck. The Chef had prepared a vegetable soup to start. Fish was served with proper chips, peas and (if you wanted) various other vegetables. There were various sauces and (for the purists) Sarsons malt vinegar. The chef told me they'd cooked 24 kg of fish! There was a dessert to follow, completing another splendid meal.

After the meal, many of the passengers remained at the tables as the evening was very mild. We were joined by a young couple, Marcus and Crystal from Canada who had boarded at Cape Town and were travelling to Ascension where they intended to join an RAF flight to the Falklands. Crystal hadn't been very well on the first part of the journey but recovered sufficiently for them have a Civil Wedding on St. Helena. One or two passengers had given them bottles of champagne or similar and the newly-married couple kindly insisted on sharing a couple of bottles with my table.

Sailing to Ascension pictures.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Thursday 28 April 2011

Last Day on St. Helena

[Originally posted by e-mail from the ship and edited on my return to the UK]

The day started with an excellent breakfast at Susan's B&B. They'd agreed to transfer our luggage to the dock by the cut-off time of two o'clock so I was able to post the previous blog to this one on the hotel's Wi-Fi before saying goodbye and walking with fellow guests into the town centre. Packed lunches had been ordered from Ivy at the Wellington Hotel so I picked these up before we congregated outside the Consulate Hotel for a ten o'clock pick-up by Corker's tours. We'd already had rain showers so we were not surprised and not too disappointed that they were using a modern 14-seat people carrier.

We set off up the steep, winding road out of the town on the east side of the valley. This road had become familiar from my various walks and the previous day's Napoleonic Tour. When we reached the junction by the bus shelter about a mile out of town, we took the leftmost turn for the high road, with the Cable and Wireless Satellite Ground Station (which had, no doubt, transmitted the blog referred to above) visible below us on the Briars Road we'd taken to reach the Pavilion on the day before. As we ascended, the rain became almost constant. We couldn't take the direct road to Hutts Gate and Longwood because of the road closure for laying water mains which had affected us the day before. Instead, we took a circuitous, winding road rising above 800 metres above sea level in places. We passed close to the site of two former astronomical observatories - Maskelyne's Observatory and Halley's Mount. We reached Hutts Gate with its shop and turned right at St. Matthew's Church, leaving the Longwood road we'd taken before. We followed the contours around the lower levels of the Three Peaks, although, because of the lush undergrowth and the torrential rain, we couldn't see the mountain tops. There's a lot of New Zealand flax around here.

Flax was a commercial crop at one time but I believe the last Flax Mill closed over 30 years ago. There is a desire to restore a mill as a museum but, like everything on St. Helena, the economics of such a project are those of the mad house. The island population is only around 4,000 souls, much smaller than the country parish I live in, yet it has all the machinery of a sovereign state with a written constitution, Governor, flag and its own currency (the St. Helena pound enjoys parity with the English Pound which is equally accepted in shops). Police, fire and Ambulance services are provided. The main hospital is in Jamestown and there are a number of medical clinics around the island visited once a week by a doctor. Occasionally, the remote nature of the island causes tragedies. On the previous day, we'd seen dozens of cars parking in the vicinity of St. Paul's Cathedral. We learned these were mourners attending the memorial service for a young lad of about ten who had become seriously ill. He'd been taken aboard the previous RMS St. Helena sailing for Cape Town but had died en route. The island is not self-sufficient in food and is dependent on the monthly arrival of the ship I'm on (invariably referred to simply as 'The RMS') for food and all manufactured products. There are some sheep and beef cattle on the island, but there is no dairy herd, so all milk is imported.

We stopped at Silver Hill and visited the Silver Hill Shop. This mini-market is operated by Solomon & Company (St. Helena) plc as are a number of commercial enterprises on the island (such as petrol filling stations). In general, prices were similar to England but foodstuffs seemed a little expensive. We carried on, with intermittent heavy rain, travelling generally west, to pass the junction for Bellstone (the name of my cabin on the ship) and, by a devious route, working our way across the southern flank of the Three Peaks with our elevation falling to less than 600 metres. We stopped at the picnic area at Green Hill, near a number of modest houses with gardens carefully tended to provide the owners with various fresh vegetables. It appears that 'The RMS' is relied upon for potatoes as potato blight is endemic in St. Helena.

We then made a visit to the Adult Training Centre operated by 'SHAPE' - St. Helena's Active Partnership in Enterprise. This is a part Government funded venture for the physically and mentally handicapped. We were taken round by the retired principal of Tamworth College in England who is on a 6-month voluntary stint in St. Helena. She explained that they currently have 18 clients but that, given better arrangements for ferrying people to and from the centre, there are probably at least 40 more people who could benefit from attending the centre.

They are engaged in making various products from milled flax but it was explained that, once limited available stocks are exhausted, this will cease unless a way of milling flax can be established. Other products include hand-made soaps and toiletries, necklaces, hand-made paper and recycled cardboard briquettes to burn as an alternative to wood. They are experimenting with wool spinning, since the fleeces of the island sheep are not currently used. We saw a crocheted scarf made from wool spun at the centre.

We were still dodging showers as we stopped at the Cathedral Church of Saint Paul. The first church here was built in 1678 but, being timber built, it needed replacing in 1699. The replacement building was reported as being in a 'ruinous condition' by 1732 and the next church was a substantial affair in stone. The present building dates from 1851 and incorporates a number of commemorative plaques from the earlier building, some of which are quite moving.

Our route continued past the Governer's house, Plantation House, and the hilltop location of High Knoll Fort, visible for miles around. Sadly, because of the dangerous condition of the stonework, visits to this fort are no longer allowed. We passed through the modern housing of Half Tree Hollow and descended the zig-zag road descending Ladder Hill to finish our tour outside the Consulate Hotel a little after 3.0 p.m. The rain had stopped temporarily and there was a warming sun.

We were to present ourselves at the docks at 4.0 p.m., so I had time to make a second visit to the charming museum before walking towards the sea front. Crowds of people were waiting on the road to the dock. Some were clearly passengers, some were seeing off passengers and some, perhaps, were just observing the activities. Just after four, the barrier across the road was removed and passengers walked to the customs shed. The same two ladies from the Immigration Department of the St. Helena Police who had admitted us to St. Helena now checked that we were shown on the ship's manifest and stamped our passports as 'Departed'. They no longer seemed as forbidding as they appeared when we entered the island and the one lady, with a smile, said 'Come back again'. Numbered permits were issued and we waited for our number to be called before joining the waiting bus. The same driver took us past the stacks of containers and the two large cranes to the launch. We donned lifejackets and were allowed aboard. This time, the launch was bobbing up and down in the swell. A short trip took us to the pontoon next to the gangway on our ship. Because of the swell, the bottom of the gangway varied from touching the pontoon to being about 18 inches above it. By half past four, I was back in my original cabin, 'home' safely.

My St. Helena Island pictures.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Wednesday 27 April 2011

The Island of St. Helena

Monday 25th April

On Sunday night, the ship's clocks were retarded by one hour for the second time so that we were on GMT. The extra hour was compensation for the fact that we had to arise earlier Monday morning. Only a continental breakfast was available from 7.00 a.m. for we were scheduled to arrive at Jamestown around 8.00 a.m.

I went on deck about 5.45 a.m. and there were already a few early birds on lookout. The dark silhouette of a rugged island was just visible ahead and, with the dawn, this became larger and clearer as we continued the approach. A number of dolphins appeared in the sea alongside, keeping station with us and intermittently arcing out of the water, which remained remarkably placid. We approached the island from SSE. Still on autopilot, a series of waypoints led the ship around the island in a series of 'dog's legs' coming round the east of the island towards our destination, Jamestown, on the northern coast. The final approach was carried out under manual command by Captain Greentree. There are a number of wrecks close inshore but the cliffs to our starboard have two 'day marks' - large white triangles which, when vertically in line, indicate that the ship is aligned on a safe approach. In fact, we were told, we would stay a little to port of the marked course because of a more recent wreck. When we were a few hundred yards off shore, the starboard anchor was dropped, the main engines stopped and we came to rest with our bows pointing towards Jamestown. Perhaps two dozen small boats and yachts were moored in the bay and some of these started to move towards us. There were a number of ungainly looking 'motorised pontoons' and the first of these moored on our starboard side and the ship's gangway was lowered onto this platform. A handsome motor launch tied up to this pontoon and a number of people came aboard. A second 'motorised pontoon' attached itself ahead of the first pontoon, adjacent to the containers loaded on the foredeck and one of our electro-hydraulic 12.5-ton capacity cranes started to perform.

For the passengers, however, it was the start of a frustrating period of waiting. It had been explained that immigration officers would set up in part of the main lounge to process each arrival. We each needed passport, completed immigration form, proof of medical insurance, onwards travel arrangements, proof of sufficient funds and the cash entry fee (12 pounds for a 4-day stay, more for longer stays). Two lady immigration officers slowly processed the passengers, stamping passports and issuing a numbered, re-usable pass card.

The cargo unloading made a faster start and soon a couple of 'motorised pontoons' were engaged in a shuttle service, each taking one or two containers to the jetty where two large cranes hauled them onto the dock. It was as well that the Atlantic was still like the proverbial millpond, as the pontoons seemed to list badly when loaded. After a while, the crane lifted a large cargo netting which was secured in position to protect the side of the ship. A large open basket had been filled with some of our luggage and this, of course, was the cue for rain. After a few minutes, a large tarpaulin appeared and was pulled over the luggage which was then lowered to the waiting 'motorised pontoon' for the journey ashore. At the stern, the hatches had been opened and more luggage was lifted onto another pontoon by the smaller Stores Crane on the aft deck. All this activity only increased the frustration of the passengers waiting to be processed.

An empty, large basket was swung onto the foredeck from a pontoon and it was announced that infirm passengers for the 'Air Taxi' would be the first to disembark. This was apparently a reference to the large basket which would be used to transfer these passengers off the ship. I didn't actually see this process as, by now, I was standing in the queue for interview. I passed muster and was issued with a numbered, reusable pass numbered '63'. Presenting this to the crew, I was told to return to the main lounge and wait for my number to be called. Instead, I watched the unloading. An American WWII landing craft had appeared and this was loaded with a mysterious piece of industrial equipment under a large blue sheet. I never did find out what it was.

Eventually my 'number was up'. Before boarding the launch, we were each equipped with a simpler form of lifejacket. Another immigration official collected our passes at the head of the gangway. The short trip ashore gave us the first look at the entire ship which had brought us safely from Cape Town. Looking ahead, the features of Jamestown were clearer. The town nestles in a deep valley running at right angles to the sea. There's a short, curving promenade which, to our left became the dock with various buildings, mobile cranes and cargo containers. Considerable works had been carried out to the steep hills on either side of the town - it was clear that these hills were none-too-stable and strong fences and wire mesh curtains had been erected to protect the town below.

The signs of the military origins of Jamestown were all around. On our left, there were abandoned lookout stations and batteries clinging to the cliffs. A wall and moat blocked entrance to the town from the sea and the Castle buildings were visible behind the protecting wall. To our right, the cliffs rose up over 600 feet, topped by an impressive-looking fort called Ladder Hill Fort. The 'Ladder' referred to is the famous 'Jacob's Ladder', a vertiginous flight of 699 steps linking the town to the fort. We clambered ashore and were directed to a bus. When everybody from our launch was aboard, we were driven past the cargo unloading activity to the Customs Shed. Hand baggage was passed through the familiar X-ray machine and then we were directed to a collection of luggage from which we could select our cases. Two policemen with an Alsatian sniffer dog circulated amongst us but neither police nor dog showed any interest in the writer. Fortunately, I managed to avoid my normal greeting of 'What a good dog!'. Customs officers were arrayed behind inspection tables but my Customs Form was collected, briefly read through and I was waved outside. About 50 yards further on, temporary barriers had been erected to hold back the crowd of islanders and various passenger names were being displayed. I quickly found my name being displayed by Colin Yon, manager of Susan's B&B where I was to spend my two nights on the island. After collecting a couple from Bath I'd met on the ship, we were driven through the town to our destination. After settling into the room and having a cup of tea with our hosts, I though I'd better explore Jamestown,

The B&B was only a few minutes walk from the single main street. It's amazing how little change there has been since the town was built. Elegant Georgian facades are everywhere although many of the buildings are rather shabby. The effect remains entrancing, particularly since islanders greet each person they pass, friend or stranger. Being Bank Holiday Monday, most premises were closed but the various public houses seemed to be doing a good trade!

I readily found the foot of Jacob's Ladder and thought I'd better see about climbing it. Each step is quite deep and there's a lot of them, so I found it a tiring climb. I started off going 50 steps and then resting and taking in the view but later I could only manage 25 steps before a pause was required. But I made it to the top and explored what's left of Ladder Hill Fort. I later discovered that a number of passengers from the ship had noted my ascent (some using binoculars). I suspect it would be difficult to keep any secret for long on this island of about 4,000 residents. Although the conventional wisdom is that it's harder to go down such steps, I had no problems and descended with only brief pauses for photographic purposes. However, going down you are very aware of how easily you could lose your balance so it's not recommended to people who suffer from vertigo. Breathless but pleased with my achievement I arrived safely at the bottom and continued my exploration of the town before joining the first tour I'd booked.

The first tour was a Historical Town Walk organised by 'Magma Way Tours', actually a charming and well-informed resident called Basil, founder member and past Chairman of the local Heritage Society. In addition to walking around the town, we made a close inspection inside St. James' Church (which is always open) and inside the Court House (which Basil arranged to open). The old building has been completely modernised inside. We finished up at a historical hotel for tea or coffee and more questions to Basil. It was a very enjoyable and informative tour.

Tuesday 26th April

I made an early morning walk out of the town with thoughts of visiting Rupert's Bay but it was clear I'd not have sufficient time before 8.00 a.m. breakfast at Susan's B&B so I turned round and made better time than I expected coming back because a local driver gave me a lift into town.

I'd booked the Charabanc Tour to the Napoleonic Sites. Corker's Tours operate a 1929 export model (right hand drive) open-top Chevrolet which was great fun. The island is full of very steep hills and narrow roads but motorists appear relaxed and courteous. We first went to the Pavlion at Briars where Napoleon spent his first 7 weeks of exile on the island, whilst his later residence, Longwood, was being prepared. We then went on to Longwood house where a number of rooms are open to the public. Fascinating glimpses of a strange period in the island's history where a garrison of 8,000 troops were dedicated to keeping Napoleon in captivity. Plantation House is the Governor's Residence in a marvellous spot looking out to sea. We didn't visit the house but did visit the large field in front of the house (called The Lawn) where a number of elderly tortoises roam. We returned to Jamestown along the western coast of the island where a large spacious estate of modern houses has been built, most with sea views. Convenient, no doubt, but not to my taste. We stopped briefly at the top of Jacob's Ladder for photography and then descended to the town via the long, zig-zagging road. It was about 3.00 p.m. by the time we arrived back at Jamestown so I immediately went to the Museum, at the foot of Jacob's Ladder. It's a small, friendly museum with a fascinating array of exhibits nicely laid out.

I then took the cliff path around the headland on the eastern side of the docks to reach the next bay - Rupert's. The path was built to serve various batteries and look-out stations but has now fallen into disrepair. I made it to Rupert's Bay, with views of the oil storage installation (fuel periodically arrives by tanker). There's a single road across the valley bottom past a few industrial initiatives and the noise of the diesel-engined power station became audible. There's a small village there and I would think the noise of the power station is troublesome. The road out of the valley climbs very steeply and I had good aerial views of the power station. By then, I was becoming rather tired and the last few hundred yards to the summit left me winded. I managed the downhill stretch into town and, as arranged, met up with some of my new friends. I took dinner in the pleasant dining room of the Consulate Hotel with two other passengers.

Wednesday 27th April.

Today, the Corker's Scenic Tour is arranged but the morning started with heavy rain. In the afternoon, I embark for Ascension. More when possible.

My St. Helena Island pictures.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Tuesday 26 April 2011

Into the South Atlantic

Tuesday 19th April

On the Munich -Johannesburg flight, in addition to the passenger display of speed, height, distance to run and the rest, there was a camera showing the outside of the aircraft. I've been in aircraft with 'belly cameras' which can be a bit off-putting during landing but this camera was mounted at the top of the tail, giving a God-like view looking down on the aircraft. I noticed they cut the feed during landing, but restored it once we were parked at the gate.

After a meeting with one of our suppliers in Johannesburg, I returned to O. R. Tambo airport. My large bag was already checked through to Cape Town so I only had to find a Bag Drop. I'd already got my boarding pass, so I only had to make my way to the spacious South African Airways lounge to wait for boarding time. The lounge had a fast internet which I made use of. To my surprise, when I embarked, there was a man standing on the air bridge just outside the aircraft door collecting suitcases checked as cabin baggage. He gave me a hastily-completed official receipt, so I made no protest. I assume they were trying to reduce congestion inside the aircraft, particularly during boarding when there are frequently delays as people attempt to stuff baggage into the overhead lockers. I did wonder if I'd ever get the case back.

We had a reasonable flight to Cape Town, during which they served light refreshments. As I left the aircraft at Cape Town, I enquired about my case and was told it would be on the luggage carousel. This had been an internal flight so there were no immigration procedures allowing me to go straight to the baggage hall to see how prompt they were clearing the hold. Within a couple of minutes, both my bags arrived so it was on to the 'meet and greet' point. I wasn't quite sure from my itinerary whether I was being met or not. I thought not and, indeed, having scoured the displayed names decided I was on my own. There were a couple of touts displaying 'Taxi' signs so, too tired to wonder if this was an official arrangement, I spoke to one of them. He immediately directed me to a young fellow standing a little way back and, reaching agreement, we set off towards his car.

Any doubts about how official this hire was were removed when, once we were outside the terminal building, my young man called to a group of people sitting around and one of them threw a bunch of car keys to him. So it was no surprise when we headed for the car park and a rather tatty saloon. You know the sort of thing - the rear window mechanism was clearly broken as the window was being held upright by a screwdriver used as a wedge. The words came back to me (as they often do on these jaunts) 'I wonder if this is altogether wise?'. I was miffed when, without discussion, the driver allowed two (fortunately respectable-looking) young ladies to climb aboard. There then followed a few minutes of pantomime whilst the young fellow struggled to extract a ticket from the nearby parking ticket machine. I was so amused at the obvious irritation of the young ladies at this delay that I couldn't be cross. Eventually our driver returned triumphantly with a ticket and we set off, with me registering a token protest about the uninvited passengers. After a few hundred yards, he pulled up at a filling station and the rear seat passenger got out. We carried on towards the city at a furious pace. I couldn't tell the speed because, as you would expect, the speedometer was broken. On the journey, the girl in the front seat fuelled the young driver with some sort of cooked snack she was carrying. We arrived safely at the Cape Grace Hotel and, clutching his fare money, the young driver took off at his accustomed high speed.

I was expected at the hotel and quickly conducted to my room, this time at the front of the hotel, overlooking the road to V&A Waterfront and one of the docks. Last time I stayed, I'd been booked on a Robben Island trip but it had been cancelled by the tour operator's at the last minute. The Concierge attempted to book me on the early tour to Robben Island on the following day but the Internet booking system said 'fully booked'. We agreed to review the situation the next morning. I decided upon a short walk, around part of the V&A Waterfront and continuing along the other side of the dock in front of the hotel then looping back to the hotel at the landward end of the dock. By now I was fairly tired so I decided to take a meal in the hotel's 'Signal' restaurant and then retire. I slept well in the huge bed.

Wednesday 20th April

Next morning, I took cooked breakfast in the restaurant. The morning 'Cape Times' had an article about work-to-rules by Robben Island tour staff making the tour very unreliable. I decided to give up on Robben Island and, instead, see if I could visit Simonstown (sometimes more properly called Simon's Town) by train. I had the foresight to arrange a late check-out for 1.30 p.m. and I set off on foot for the railway station. It was a sunny morning but, fortunately, I took a hat and lightweight coat.

The station is very unimposing from the street - it just looks like a series of shops - but, passing through the doors, there's a huge concourse linking 24 platforms. I managed to purchase a return ticket (good value at 25 Rand - about two pounds 50) and made my way to Platform 1 for the 08:40 all stations to Simonstown. All the platforms have now been fitted with automatic barriers with two glass doors which part to let passengers through but these have not yet been commissioned, so I was directed to a staffed barrier where the lady pushed the glass doors apart, checked my ticket and let me through. As it was almost departure time, I jumped on in the middle of the train. Shortly afterwards, the doors closed automatically but, almost immediately, a terrifying banshee wail was sent up by a portly black girl waiting to board. To my surprise, the guard released the doors and more passengers got on. A few minutes late, we slowly made our departure from Cape Town.

The train was one of the elderly class of electric multiple units I'd seen before, covered with graffiti inside and out. The plastic windows are hard to see through because of the graffiti but, if you're lucky, the upper window sash can be forced part way down for ventilation and, if you're prepared to stand, you have a reasonable view out. A lot of passengers boarded at the first two stops and, at each subsequent station, plenty of people left and joined the train. Looking at the range of physical appearance of the passengers and the variety of styles and colours of dress reminded me that South Africa calls itself 'The Rainbow Nation'. The suburban stations are very close together, so it was stop and start for around three quarters of an hour before the sky to the east became lighter and suddenly, we were running on a rocky ledge above a sandy beach with regular waves coming in from the ocean which in this area is called False Bay. I counted over 30 surfers practising as we stopped at Muizenberg. The regularity of the surf here has made it a centre for training surfers. We continued running along the coast, usually very close to the beach and fifteen to thirty feed above it. The railway has adopted an interesting method of protecting the foreshore and breaking up the power of the waves - thousands of used concrete sleepers have been dumped along the margin. The line was routed a small distance inshore passing through Kalk Bay which retains a working fishing fleet of small boats, then the railway again ran close to the sea, with masses of exotic-looking seaweed swaying with the surging water and hundreds of birds - geese, seagulls and cormorants. At first, I thought the dampness was spray from the sea but, as it got worse, I realised it was raining. Fish Hoek is a relatively major station. The town boasts one of the best swimming beaches and is one of the county's few 'dry' towns. The land for development of Fish Hoek was donated on the condition that no alcohol was sold here! Beyond Fish Hoek, the line becomes single, following the twists and turns of the coastline through Glencairn in a very attractive manner, reaching the terminus at Simonstown. The late 19th century station boasts three platforms but only one is used by the typically hourly sevice. The departures were crudely chalked up on a board and I decided I had just under a hour to catch an impression of Simonstown before getting the train back to Cape Town.

The main road on the landward side of the railway is the main route into town, so, in what had become quite heavy rain, I started walking along what I discovered is called 'The Historical Mile'. I didn't quite complete the mile but I saw lots of interesting buildings and passed the South African Navy Yard (once operated by the British). The Navy Yard includes various substantial jetties, with one imposing warship and at least two other Navy vessels moored. Just inside the Navy Yard was an old metal structure clearly built for an aerial ropeway. A number of other towers could be seen leading up the steep hillside on the landward side. I learned later that this aerial ropeway had been built to link the Navy Yard to the Naval Sanatorium at the top of the hill. I turned back at Jubilee Square (formerly the Market Place) to ensure I didn't miss my train. I made a small detour to Simonstown Museum. I didn't have time to tour the museum, but I bought a couple of books for later study. Commenting on the rain, the lady in the museum said 'Oh well, it is the beginning of our winter'. I peeked in St. Francis's Anglican church next door, where a number of people were moving chairs around in preparation for some function. One of the ladies enquired where I was from and, referring to the rain said 'We expect this now our winter's started'. Just before reaching the station, I found a short road leading down to a sandy beach, so I had a quick look at what is (accurately) called Long Beach before completing my journey to the station. There were a dozen or so waiting passengers, some in Navy uniform.

Our train arrived about right time - this time an electric multiple unit of a more modern design which appeared to have electronic control of the motors. We had gone less than a mile from Simonstown when we were stopped at a red signal. A few yards ahead, a gang of men were working on the track - a fact which was probably related to our stop. After a minute or two, the driver sounded the horn and passed the signal at danger. The rest of the stop - start journey to Cape Town was uneventful, but the rain was continuous. At Cape Town, I had a quick look for taxis but they appear to hide when it's raining just as they do in the UK so I walked back to the hotel, arriving somewhat damp. A quick shower and a change of clothes fully restored me, leaving just enough time to finish my packing and check out.

Improbably, the meeting point for passengers on the 'St. Helena' was the 'Mission for Sailors', just inside the dock gates. The hotel arranged a taxi to ferry me and my luggage there. A crowd of passengers were standing around outside and there were more people waiting inside. My cases were whisked away and two rather harassed shipping company staff marked me as present. A couple of people carriers with luggage trailers were providing a shuttle service between the Mission and the berth for our ship and, after a short wait, it was my turn to be transferred to the ship. We paused at the security station leading to the quayside whilst the car ahead of us was thoroughly searched. The driver of the car was also required to don a high visibility vest before he was allowed to proceed. It appears that Health and Safety procedures are quite strictly enforced. Staff quayside were also required to wear hard hats although I was amused to note that many people chose to wedge the hard hat on top of a baseball cap - I'm not quite sure what that does to the effectiveness of the hard hat! Once the car had moved off, we were waved through with a smile. Our ship was just a couple of hundred yards away and we pulled up next to a short gangway on the starboard side leading to the main reception area on 'B' deck. manned by Purser's staff at a counter in the reception area were quickly checking passengers in and directlng them to the Main Lounge on 'A' deck immediately above for immigration formalities. A rather brusque lady from Immigration asked where the photocopy of my passport was. I apologised and said I wasn't aware that it was a requirement. I returned to reception to enquire about a photocopy but was told 'No - it's only people travelling on South African passports who have to provide a photocopy'. Puzzled, I returned to the Main Lounge. This time, the male immigration officer was also free and he stamped my passport saying 'You don't need a photcopy, the ship have agreed to give us a full passenger manifest'. No apologies from either officer, of course.

I was thus free to go to my cabin B34, also named 'Bellstone' after a location in St. Helena. It's a 2-berth cabin, one single bed above the other with a removeable step ladder to reach the upper bed. When used as a single cabin, the upper berth is hinged flat against the wall, making it reasonably spacious. There's one writing desk with tea-making facilities, four storage drawers and a chair, one chest of drawers with eight drawers, a round table with another chair, two wardrobes, a 'fridge and a separate compartment with wash basin, W.C. and shower. A non-opening porthole provides welcome daylight. All-in-all, quite a reasonable space to spend a few days.

So, half past three in the afternoon on board RMS 'St. Helena' berthed at Cape Town and the Ship's Alarm had just sounded. But we'd been advised this would happen - it was summoning us to the Safety Briefing in the Sun Lounge. Attendance was compulsory, complete with the lifejacket from the cabin. After the briefing, we had to demonstrate that we could correctly don the lifejacket and then we were allowed back to our cabins. Shortly after 4.0 p.m. our voyage started.

A tug, the 'Blue Jay', had attached a line to our bow so as to pull our bow away from the quay. Meanwhile, a shore party was attempting to detach the aft lines from bollards on the quay. Hands on the 'St. Helena' were using electric winches on the stern deck to slacken each line but the difficulty was that, since the 'St. Helena' berthed, another ship had moored astern of us and three of her lines, still under tension, were attached to the same bollard but on top of ours. The shore party managed to get enough slack to remove the loop at the end of each of our lines but it still required the power of our winches to disentangle our lines from our neighbour's lines and pull the loops free. As we sailed towards the open sea, we had good views of the variety of ships using the docks. Shortly, we passed the outer breakwater and the stern deck was crowded with passengers watching the city, with its famous backdrop of Table Mountain, slip behind us. Our course took us somewhat west of north so that we were angling away from the coast north of Cape Town. Once the hills on this section of coast could no longer be seen, we would be out of visual contact with land until we arrived at St. Helena.

At this stage, the ship was moving in the swell in a rather uncomfortable way and a number of people were unwell. Some passengers went to see the Ship's Doctor to obtain an injection to counter motion sickness. Dinner was arranged in two sittings at 6.45 p.m. and 8.00 p.m. I was allocated to the second sitting on Table 18 but only myself and two other guests took dinner on Wednesday. We met the other three table guests on the following day. Once dinner was finished, I was ready for bed and slept quite well.

Thurday 21st April

I enjoyed a splendid breakfast in the dining room with waiter service to your order. I had porridge followed by an English breakfast with tea and white toast. It's free seating for breakfast and lunch so, by moving round from meal to meal, it's easier to get to know some of the other passengers. Many of the passengers were residents of St. Helena returning home, the balance were of various nationalities seeking a more unusual cruise, including quite a few residents of South Africa. There's a programme of events each day but I, like a number of passengers, passed the time exploring those parts of the ship accessible to us, watching the sea from the sun deck aft or just relaxing.

The 'St. Helena' is a working ship, not principally a cruise ship. She provides the lifeline to the Island, carrying food and all the requirements of life. The forward third of the ship is cargo holds accepting normal freight or 20 foot containers. Containers are also carried on deck. Two large cranes on the foredeck allow the ship to load and unload itself without requiring external facilities. Two sections of the sun deck at the stern open to give access to smaller rear holds for ship's stores and there's a smaller crane to load these stores.

Despite having had a good breakfast, I took the three course lunch in the restaurant. The food on board was very much to my taste. At 6.00 p.m we were all invited to the Captain's Cocktail Party in the Main Lounge - a fairly crowded affair and with insufficient seats for all the passengers. Later, of course, there was dinner in the dining room after which I was happy to go to bed. Because we were heading roughly North North West, we were moving into a different time zone so, at midnight, all clocks were retarded by one hour.

Friday 22nd April

Again, I slept fairly well and found quite a few people around when I went up to the sun deck just after 7.00 a.m. The sea state was calm and we were still plodding along at about 15 knots. Once again, I took the excellent breakfast and chatted with passengers. At 10.00 a.m. , I attended a briefing in the Main Lounge for passengers continuing to Ascension from St. Helena. I discovered that two other passengers (from Texas) are, like me, hoping to land on Ascension and catch the R.A.F. flight out on the same day. So, if my arrangements go awry, I should have company! At 10.30 a.m. I watched the 'Shuffleboard Tournament' on the Sun Deck. I know the game as 'Deck Quoits' and that certainly seems a link with the great days of passenger sea travel.

The 'St. Helena' is carrying on part of the tradition of the 'Union Castle' line which formerly provided a regular link between the U.K. and Cape Town, including St. Helena in its ports of call. The competition from air travel caused Union Castle to cease operations in 1977, necessitating alternative arrangements for St. Helena which still has no airstrip. The Canadian-built 'Northland Prince' was re-fitted and, renamed 'St. Helena', started to ply the Cape Town - St. Helena route. That vessel took part in the Falklands Conflict in 1982 and the Blue Funnel vessel 'Centaur' was chartered to maintain the lifeline to St. Helena. In 1989 the present, much larger 'St. Helena' was launched in Aberdeen.

Friday continued the established lazy pattern. I took the full lunch in the Dining Room, although a lighter meal was available in the Sun Lounge. Various other diversions were provided - films, a fitness class. At 6.00 p.m. I was foolish enough to go to the main lounge to watch on on-board Pub Quiz and got dragooned into the 'Kiwi-Mapleleaf' Team. I eventually worked out that the name was derived from two of the team members - a lady from New Zealand and a gentleman from Canada. We came a fairly respectable second in this round of the contest.

It was a balmy evening and the sea was very calm. Despite the ship's lighting rather polluting the sky, a wonderful array of stars was visible - unfamiliar to me because we were in the southern hemisphere. Returning to the deck after the accustomed excellent dinner, I was disappointed to find the stars had become obscured by cloud but shortly, a yellow, flickering light was visible on the southern horizon. After a few seconds, I realised it was the moon, peeking from behind broken cloud. A few of the passengers and I watched, mesmerised, as the moon slowing appeared clearly for a few minutes, before being obscured by cloud again. We stood with a sense of disappointment that the effect had ceased but, after about ten minutes, the southern sky near the horizon took on a silvery hue. The silver colour slowly intensified until a sliver of bright yellow appeared and became larger until the moon was clearly visible as it climbed into the sky - a spectacular 'moonrise'.

Saturday 23rd April

The by now familiar pattern of the day repeated. After an early turn on the Sun Deck, I enjoyed a full breakfast. I expected to be climbing the rigging with boredom by this time but, to my surprise, I was quite relaxed and comfortable.

At 10.30 a.m. the 'Sun Deck County Ground' was host to the South Atlantic Ashes - a cricket match between passengers and ship's officers. Nets had been erected both to protect spectators in the seating laid out across the rear of the Sun Deck and prevent too many 'balls' from going over the side. The 'balls' are made out of rope so as to be less lethal but one of the members of the passengers' team told me he found the officers' team very aggressive players. At least a couple of balls went over the side which appears to render the batsman 'out'. Quite a few balls ended up in the adjacent swimming pool, from where they were retrieved by long-handled net and returned to the bucket of balls. It was a good-natured match and players and spectators alike enjoyed it.

From 10.30 a.m., tea, beef tea and coffee was available in the Sun Lounge followed at noon by full lunch in the Dining Room or a Salad Bar in the Sun Lounge. Once again, I took the full meal, sharing a table with a South African couple. The husband was a retired electronics engineer who'd worked on cable laying ships. In the afternoon, there was a (rather over-subscribed) Bridge Visit and later a briefing on St. Helena. At 6.00 p.m. it was the second round of the on-board quiz. Team 'Kiwi Mapleleaf' didn't acquit themselves very well, coming third.

By the time the quiz had finished, it was dark. I summoned up my courage to try the outdoor swimming pool. So far, I'd only seen two children from St. Helena use the pool. Lowering oneself into the water was a little bit of a shock to the system but, once immersed, I found it very pleasant. Apparently, sea water is pumped aboard, used to cool the engines and then circulated through the pool, perhaps a couple of degrees above sea temperature. After the swim, there was time to have a quick shower before going for dinner which was, as always, excellent. After dinner, I was quite ready to do a little bit of re-packing and then retire to bed.

Sunday 24th April

It didn't feel like Easter Sunday, although the Captain was to conduct a service in the main lounge at 10.30 a.m. After breakfast, I discovered that the morning bridge visit only had four takers so, since the previous day's visit had been rather crowded, I decided to repeat the visit. The question of whether to attend the Easter Service was thus answered since the bridge visit was also at 10.30 a.m. Whereas previous days have been rather overcast, Sunday was warm with bright sun and this encouraged people to sit out on the Sun Deck. Preparations had already commenced for our arrival at St. Helena the following morning. Immigration and Customs forms had been issued, tentative bookings taken for various tours on the island and large luggage for landing was to be collected at 4.30 p.m. I'd decided that I'd manage onshore with a small case which the ship require by 7.0 a.m. Monday.

At lunch time, I couldn't resist the full meal service in the dining room. Afterwards, I decided to try the pool again. The water wasn't very warm but, once again, it was alright once you were in and I spent around half an hour in the water. Nobody joined me in the pool but a lady who lives at Cape Point south of Cape Town sat on the side and bathed her feet.

At four o'clock, they showed an interesting film about the building of the present vessel. The lowest tender for the build was received from an Aberdeen shipyard already in some financial difficulty. None-the-less, they were awarded the contract. During the build, the receivers were called in and eventually Appledore bought out the yard. With a new contract price and new programme Appledore completed the build.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Tuesday 19 April 2011

Briefly in Johannesburg

Like Munich airport, O R Tambo airport is also very modern (in part). There are lots of people off various flights in the Immigration Hall but the queues move swiftly and I'm soon walking to baggage reclaim. My checked bag arrives promptly and I'm soon in the Arrivals Hall. I've flown to Johannesburg so that I can have a meeting with one of my firm's suppliers. A car and driver have been pre-booked and I meet up with the well-spoken young man and we walk to his 'people carrier'. We're past the worst of the morning rush and bowl along the complex network of motorways, reaching our supplier's works in good time. A useful and pleasant meeting takes most of the morning and then my driver returns me to the airport. This time, he has to avoid part of the motorway route because of delays caused by roadworks. My large bag was already checked in and labelled for Cape Town at Manchester and I have my Boarding Pass for this third leg so I only have to find the 'Bag Drop' and make my way to the South African Airways domestic lounge.

There are plenty of computer stations available and the internet connection is fast. All too soon, they're calling my flight to Cape Town so I make my way to Gate D1 where they're already boarding passengers.

This time, the aircraft is a Boeing 737-800. As I walk down the glass-sided airbridge to the aircraft, I notice the last three letters of the aircraft registration painted on the nose wheel hatch cover - 'Sierra Juliet Foxtrot'. The seating is 2+3 and a moveable bulkhead makes the first seven rows business class. I'm in 4A again and, again, the whole aircraft is packed. It's around two hours to Cape Town and they serve us a reasonable meal on the way. On arrival, we park at a separate stand and disembark through portable stairs. A modern shuttle bus takes us a short distance to the terminal. More later!

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Transiting Munich

Boarded an Airbus A319-100 at Manchester for the first leg to Munich with Lufthansa. We're a few minutes late departing, awaiting a 'slot'. The seating is 3+3, with a moveable partition to create a 3-row business section at the front. The Business rows are allocated as 2+2, with an empty seat in the middle. The flight is heavily booked, but apparently I'm the only person in the front section so the two stewards are quite attentive in plying me with drinks and a simple-but-good meal. The one steward even offers to make me a takeaway snack for my wait at Munich - a kind offer which I decline.

As we approach Munich, I notice another aircraft flying parallel, about 3/4 mile on our right, a little ahead of us and lower. We descend and come level with the other aircraft, still flying parallel. I correctly deduce that there are two parallel runways so we land on 'Left', the other aircraft on 'Right'. We do some fairly heavy braking to be able to take the high speed turn-off on our right and taxi past the lengthy, modern terminal buildings to a stand out in the open. We disembark using old-fashioned steps and join a modern bus. A five-minute drive takes us to the terminal building, passing close to a South African Airways aircraft which I guess is my aircraft (it was). After a few moments to check on the screens for my flight and its Gate, I walk through the fairly-quiet terminal to the departure gate. There are a lot of people clustered near this gate but much of the terminal is deserted. There's one Duty Free shop open. I check it out but the prices dissuade me from making a purchase. Quite early, they start boarding the flight. With a separate business channel, I'm soon on the aircraft in seat 4A. This time, the whole aircraft is full so there's a gentleman from South Africa in the aisle seat alongside me.

The aircraft is a large, four-engined 'Airbus' - an A340-600. It takes some time for all the passengers to embark but we get away about right time for the ten-hour overnight journey to Johannesburg. Once we're under way, they serve a very good evening meal. There's plenty of alcohol on offer, but I stick to lemonade. The entertainment system is not quite state of the art, apparently using videotape judging by the not-terribly good quality at times. But I watch 'The Tourist' before converting my seat to flat-bed and getting a few hours fairly good sleep. I wake about 0630 and have a quick wash before they serve a decent breakfast. By the time we arrive at Johannesburg (a little late after an air traffic delay) I feel reasonably human.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Monday 18 April 2011

Off again!

It's some time since I flew from Manchester Airport and I'm amazed at the changes to Terminal 1.

There are three modern check-in halls, one behind the other. Mid-afternoon, the airport isn't busy and I'm soon checked in and making my way through security. All my luggage gets X-rayed and I have to go through a Whole Body scanner, then I have to take of my shoes so that they can be X-rayed. I make my usual complaint about being forced to walk on the public floor in stocking feet - the security man assures me the floor is cleaned 'Eight Times a Day'. The north-country staff are a little more good natured than at my bete-noire of airports (Heathrow). I negotiate the massive Duty Free, spending a little time browsing in the huge W H Smith. I find a second (smaller) W H Smith near the end of Duty Free. Then I'm looking for the 'Wilmslow Room' - Servisair's Business Lounge (Serviceair are the ground handling agents here for Lufthansa).

Oh, I didn't tell you, did I? I'm Lufthansa to Munich, change and then on to Johannesburg. After a meeting with one of our suppliers, it's on to Cape Town and an overnight at the Cape Grace Hotel. Then, I embark on the Royal Mail Ship 'St. Helena' for the voyage to the island of St. Helena.

All my pictures from the trip are here.

Blossom Time at Brewood

It's been a hard winter but as the trees burst into blossom, there's promise of better days ahead.

In Japan, they make a big thing about the cherry blossom. I don't think we're as enthusiastic but I think it's a wonderful (if brief) annual show.

There are a few pictures here.