The Ankle Deep Sea – Finally arrived

The ferry to Rodrigues takes 36 hours from Port Louis to the capital, Port Mathurin and goes a couple of times a week.  The plane takes ninety minutes and with only 50 seats each time there are only three, maybe four flights a day.  Considering these are the links between the two major islands, there is not a huge capacity for movement.  In fact the Rodriguans had long complained about this; there are no other flights from Rodrigues to other destinations.  And the Air Mauritius flight was incredibly expensive for a quick hop.

Arrival in Rodrigues

I landed in blistering heat of mid afternoon at Sir Gaetan Duval Airport at the western tip of the island.  The sun was blinding , the vegetation around me parched, and the peace and quiet audible.  It was the total opposite of the cold, dark, noisy environment of the UK that I had left behind only some eighteen hours before.

Jeremy and Mike were there.  They allowed me a cursory summary of my week in the north and the problems at Plaisance Airport, before spieling out their assessment of the island, the characters they had met and what our job was for the next five days.

Given it was Saturday, the island was almost deserted; we saw a few bodies under the shade of the few trees in back yards, the periodic vehicle heading along the road.  We took a circuitous route to our hotel, along the northern coast road, and the two of them pointed out various features.  We passed through the centre of Port Mathurin, almost deserted, and then drove over a big hill to the eastern flank of the island.  Livestock grazing is a massive part of Rodrigues life so, unlike the dense plantation fields of Mauritius, much of the island was taken up with huge open grasslands. Due to an ongoing drought the land was devoid of anything but the most hardy shrubs.  We descended towards the coast to a remarkable bay, the white sand fringed by palm trees and perfect size waves rolling in from the east.  Along a small sandy track we passed through an open gate in a high stone wall and we were at Cotton Bay Hotel. I was settled in to a first floor room overlooking a beach covered in filao and palm trees.

As far as you can go – The power of the RMS

Tiny, distant, away from the interaction of so much of the world but with a treasury of jewels to offer up, as well as an insight in how to live simply.  St Helena was a perfect location…. but on its own terms.  I feared the upheaval that the Access Project was to bring.  But knew there were many benefits for the island.  Since my last visit there, the Access Project has moved far beyond the consultation stage – the new port at Rupert’s Bay was put in place, a road etched out of Rupert’s Valley and onto Deadwood Plain to give access for trucks to take heavy plant, materials and supplies up to the airport site (the gate at Jamestown would never had been big enough to get what was needed through, let alone having traffic head up to the east through all the existing settlement in Jamestown and Alarm Forest), the Dry Gut is filled in, the runway built and the terminal building standing.  What will it be like when the tourists and visitors first arrive at the east end of the island and have to drop all the way in to Jamestown, instead of approaching the capital from the sea?

A runway is here now

 

I know what will change.  The rhythm of the island will never be the same again.  You get used to the quiet week or maybe several weeks when the RMS is away.  And you notice the ramping up of the pace of life when it draws near.  Wholesalers, traders, DIY enthusiasts, all rush down to the customs shed soon after the ship arrives to load up their pickup trucks and take their new supplies away. I saw one time where the process was too rushed.  I was sitting in the National Trust office at the end of my first visit, typing up the proposal we were making to the UK Government, when I heard an almighty crash.  We all rushed out of the office but came to a halt at the front steps, as our way was blocked by pints of yoghurt.  A small truck had picked up a month’s worth of yoghurt cartons, I think it was for Thorpe’s supermarket.  But the driver had not secured the ropes carefully enough round the palettes and as he sped up Main Street they became unstable and the load was spilt right outside the offices.  Fortunately no-one was walking along the pavement there at the time or there would have been some nasty injuries, but as it was there was a sticky mess for some time after this.  And a severe shortage of low calorie desserts for the next month!

Whoops!

What a waste

Big events often take place on the island when the ship is in.  The same afternoon as the yoghurt spillage, I attended a moment in history.  Tucked away in a gorgeous old stone warehouse where once where electricity on the island was created, is now the island’s museum collection.  Well set out on two floors, it covers key stages in the island’s history – the early sail days, the immigration onto the island from so many nations that gave St Helena its diverse ethnic mix, the incarcerations of Zulu, Boer and of course Napoleon, the old houses and the history of the governors and other key people, the history of electricity and telegraphy, astronomy (Halley set up observatories here in the clear southern skies),  life on the island, the various RMS ships and other visiting craft, and key events.  As well as the large ground floor space there is a first floor terrace with displays.  The problem till that day was that anyone who had trouble with stairs could not visit the top floor.  So I went to see the inaugural journey of the first elevator or lift on the whole of St Helena.  The governor was there, with the bishop, the speaker of the house, the chief clerk,  the head of the National Trust, and the duty RMS captain, who presented a model of the RMS to the museum’s collection.  And the guest of honour was Mrs Thorpe, the matriarch of the Thorp family, in whose house I had been staying.  She took her place on the ground floor, and like an Aged Venus rising from the sea, she emerged to the crowd of dignitaries on the first floor.

The museum

Mrs Thorpe rising up the elevator

The RMS captain greets Mrs Thorpe

RMS donate a new exhibit