Thoughts on St Helena

In December 2013 I visited St Helena for the first time to film a documentary about the island and its people. The chaps at the 'St Helena Wirebird' blog asked me some questions about my visit... here are my answers.

We know that you visited St Helena to film a documentary. What aspects of the island were you looking at and how did the island compare to your other experiences?
As a team we were keen to portray the island in their best light, to see what they had to offer the modern traveler and to meet and talk with locals to gain insight into island life.

I’ve been lucky enough to visit some pretty remote places, so I suppose these experiences have shaped my expectations, which is not a bad thing as I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for the trip; in fact I only had two weeks. I’d like to think I visited the island with a completely open mind, and I’m really glad I did. I’d be kidding myself if I thought I’d got under the skin of the island’s culture, but the welcome and hospitality were humbling.

The journeys and adventures we enjoyed on St Helena were all the more exciting and engaging because we had to establish new friendships with the people who helped us with them. If I’d had the opportunity, and we weren’t trying to get so much done, I think I would have spent more time pottering around Jamestown. I loved hearing the Mynah birds singing in the early evening before they went to roost in the trees. I also wanted to spend more time walking. Simon, the cameraman, did a lot of filming of the landscape, having seen some of the footage I envied some of the places he was able to go and see.

Part of the St Helena experience is obviously the historic voyage on the RMS St Helena. As a seasoned sea woman, having rowed across the Atlantic not just once, but twice, how did you find the journey on board?
The RMS was an epic adventure in its own right – and I’m not just talking about the food! It took a while to get used to the pace on board, and everyone jokes about the ding-dong calls to dinner… and cake …. and beef tea! What I loved about the ship was its unpretentiousness. You get to know the passengers and crew, and they get to know you. Aside from gaining half a stone I really couldn’t fault it as one of the very best ways to travel.

You’re a person who has an impressive travel history of visiting remote places! How did St Helena compare?
I have to say, with hand on heart, it’s one of my favourite places in the world. I love the islanders’ spirit, the sense of community and the extraordinary landscape. I may be a bit odd but I also appreciate the simple way of life.  There aren’t hundreds of shops selling everything and anything. You have to make do, and make the most of what you have. I can see why many want to tell the world about the island, but at the same time some want to keep it secret for fear of spoiling it. I just feel incredibly privileged to have been able to visit, and stay for such a long.

You relish a challenge. How did you fare conquering Jacob’s Ladder?
Who’d have thought a flight of stairs could be so difficult! Simon, the director, and I went down them and didn’t go back up again – how misguided! I went down twice in the same day! Both of us struggled to walk for ages! Going up with some of the Girl Guides was really good fun, even though I should have picked a better time – 11am was a little bit too hot. The girls were up in a jiffy but I have to admit I took my time… I was still recovering (at least that’s my excuse!). The view was amazing and it was great to see Jamestown in full swing for Christmas.

The biggest news for St Helena at the moment is obviously the opening of the airport in 2016. Did you see the latest developments of it and what do you think this will mean for the island and particularly the Saint community?
I was lucky enough to visit the airport site on more than one occasion. The complexity of the development is quite mindboggling! As to what it will mean to the Saints, well I can see the benefits – medical support, work opportunities, both in St Helena and abroad, and also the potential for increased tourism. But I can also appreciate the drawbacks that are perhaps difficult for outsiders to understand. I spoke to the Head Girl at Prince Andrew School and she explained her reticence. She told me that the voyage on the RMS prepares you for the gentleness of the island, it gives you time to think about the journey and appreciate the remoteness the islanders’ experience. When tourists arrive on the plane they will just step off without that appreciation. I can see her point. The trouble is the airport is coming, and I’m not sure everyone is prepared for it.

And the all-important question… any plans to visit St Helena in the future? Perhaps the Governor’s Cup or the St Helena Marathon to test your talents?
I’d love to come back. I’d also love to bring my husband one day too. If we have the time and the opportunity we’ll do it, but I’d like him to travel there by the RMS. We can jump on a plane any day of the week!

Memories of Clipper

As the yachts competing in the Clipper Round the World Race 13/14 make their way through the English Channel my right thumb begins to ache! In May 2010 I was lucky enough to jump aboard 'Singapore' as a legger - a crew member who takes on a Leg rather than a 'Worlder', who rather obviously goes round the world! 

During Leg 7 we were set to race from Jamaica to New York, before shooting off to Nova Scotia, across the Atlantic to Cork, before heading to Holland, then home to Hull. By all intents and purposes we were novices, but by Jamaica the worlders we old hands, and we leggers eager not to let the team down. 

Like all expeditions there were plenty of ups and downs. The new 2013 crews will be experiencing many of them right now. Seasickness will hit first, followed by exhaustion, panic and possibly a couple of accidents. Even with the excellent training provided by the Clipper team it's not difficult to imagine the chaos some crews will experience in their first few days at sea. The professional skippers may even be thinking..."What the hell of I got myself into!?" 

My own race had it's fair share of disasters - a dismasting, a grounding, several injuries, a couple a which were very serious - in fact I dislocated a toe and fractured my thumb (off the back end of the Isle of White, how exotic!) There were shredded sails, man-over-boards and broken steering columns. Onboard politics were a minefield, some crews were at breaking point. It's life-changing, and not always for the right reasons. 

As an ocean rower I felt at ease with whatever the seas could throw at me, but the relative complexity of the yacht, certainly in comparison to a rowing boat, and the constantly changing dynamics of the crew were at times extremely tough. Imagine eighteen people squashed into a floating caravan!

But one of my fondest memories was sharing a five hour nightshift sat on deck with a chap called Heston - nicknamed for his remarkable likeness to the bespectacled Fat Duck chef. We'd not had much of a relationship before that night; in fact the worlders clique was at times difficult to penetrate. As Heston had won the converted title of Watch Leader (aka. second in command) he was often to be found standing behind the wheel, lighting a rolly deciding whether it was time for a sail change. 

As our track across the North Atlantic demanded very little but careful helmsmanship, I sat out under the sails staring at the stars, trying not to get too cold. To my surprise Heston took a seat beside me, and we launched into a "What chocolate bar am I thinking about?" game, which left us laughing hysterically for hours! 

We didn't speak much after that, there just wasn't a suitable moment. Keeping the boat moving tends to take over. But it was one of those shared experiences that always brings back a smile. Somewhere in the middle of the ocean we were debating whether Fry's Turkish Delight really counts as a chocolate bar or not. 

Anyway, here's a post I wrote whilst aboard the good ship Singapore. It'll give you an idea of what it can be like on board. 

Do follow this year's race, it's really is an incredible adventure. If you want to see the yachts, they'll be sailing back into London next summer. 

www.clipperroundtheworld.com

***

We’d spent all morning battling hard to make it to the front of the
 fleet, only Cork and 1000 miles of ocean stood between us and a race
 win. Although still very early on, in fact this was our second day at 
sea, the crew were in top spirits. I think we were all secretly gloating
 at our early success.

The winds began to fill and the white horses were out on a gallop, Jim 
called time on the medium weight spinnaker. We’d changed spinnakers a 
hundred times before, perhaps that was our downfall? Maybe we’d become a
 little complacent, perhaps we needed to take a little more time, do a
 couple more checks? Buoyed up with enthusiasm ‘B’ Watch scattered across
 the deck manning winches and gripping guys.

It happened so quickly, I didn’t even realise we were in trouble until I saw the foot of the spinnaker hit the water.  We’d already dragged a huge body of it through the boom and onto the deck ready for a quick dispatch down the companionway. The guy rope taunted and we couldn’t hold the kite any longer and back it slipped inflating into this menacing bubble billowing out from behind the mainsail.

Jim was glued to the helm bellowing instructions, cursing as the kite filled with water. With all our might we could not get the guy back through the boom. The halyards and guys slithered off into the ocean creating an enormous octopus, which swam menacingly off our stern.

A spinnaker can sink a boat, it can pull you over and under within seconds. I have a healthy respect for their power. Even after a month’s sailing I’m still filled with trepidation when we fly one. So much can go wrong, a Chinese gybe and suddenly you’re in the drink.

The octopus was beginning to tear, I remember seeing the first rip and naively thinking “If we can get it in now a bit of Dacron will do the trick! A couple of stitches and we can get out of this one with our pride intact.” But like the dress on a Bond girl the seams began to unzip. Huge sections of the kite torn apart slipping away into the waves.

Halyards were flogging, Jim was swearing, crew were dangling precariously over the guard rail desperate to catch hold of a tentacle in an attempt to bring it into the boat. The awesome power of the wind and waves scuppered any attempt to tame the creature. I stood helpless on the pushpin watching as a section disappeared under our keel a wrapped itself neatly round our rudder.

We lost steering.

‘A’ Watch were starting to appear on deck, still crumple-faced and bleary-eyed from sleep. I can only imagine what horror they witnessed as they crawled out of the companionway. Being in the thick of things you can’t take in the full picture, the carnage that had unfolded about the ship.

Jim yelled to drop the main, with no steering and a thickening wind we couldn’t control the sail as it tumbled down towards us. Half of it made its way over the side, the other cascaded all over the port deck trapping crew and ropes alike.

“We can’t just look at it!” cried Jim. “We’ve got to get the bloody thing in!”

This was our Moby Dick, a mighty beast that seemed to elude every attempt to capture it. Crewmate holding on to crewmate as bodies reached
 well over the side to grab fabric or rope.

Singas began to breach, pitching and rolling in the swell. I didn’t see it but Jim must have discovered the reason for our demise as what remained of the kite found its way onto the deck, tugged by ten or more exhausted crew. There was barely any sail left, just tattered shreds no amount of Dacron was going to repair.

It took a while to clean up the mess, tidy the lines, release the rudder from the guy and shredded kite that had made its way under our keel.

Jim called us to the cockpit; we sat their glum faced and knackered. A couple of the lads joked but they were nervous giggles like laughing at a funeral. Jim, in his usual understated style rallied the troops.

“Well we got ourselves in a bit of a pickle!”

He went on to explain that a knot in the lazy spinnaker sheet had caused our catastrophe. He dangled the evidence in front of us. It wasn’t a knot anyone of us would tie. It’s seems if there is an opportunity for a rope to tangle and knot itself it will. The lazy sheet had caught itself around the block therefore not allowing the kite to run free. There was no way the crew could pull against a kite still attached to the other side of the boat.

I think ‘B’ Watch still felt guilty. We skulked downstairs to our bunks wandering if there was anything at all we could have done. I personally felt strange about the fact that it was partly my responsibility to take photographs of the event, it’s what ‘Media’ crew have to do, to be apart from the action and document the moment. It must take a very different personality from my own to be able to disassociate oneself and become voyeur instead of participant. I didn’t even think to get the camera. So it is my hope that this blog gives you that picture that I wasn’t able to take.

Oh, and less than 12 hours later the lightweight spinnaker blew. ‘A’ Watch were on deck and the calamity started all over again!