"There is a certain allure to islands. The pace of life is slow. You can watch the sunrise from one side and set from the other..." - escape with Lauren on an off-island adventure.
The off islands offer the opportunity to disconnect from our frenetic modern life, reset our circadian rhythm and gain perspective. In a limitless ocean or under a sky of infinite stars, it’s hard not to feel humbled; your inconsequential worries seem to slip away, and you instinctively contemplate a bigger picture. Perhaps for these reasons, island life nourishes my soul, lingers long in my memory and leaves me seeking out my next fix.
Image: View from Lower Town, St. Martin’s
Scattered almost 30 miles off the Cornish coast, the Isles of Scilly had been on my radar for some time, and this year we finally made the journey out there for our latest dose of island escapism. Leaving the silhouette of St Michael’s Mount behind, our crossing on the Scillonian ferry from Penzance was over fortuitously calm, silver seas with an escort of gannets and shearwaters skimming along beside us. On arrival, we squeezed onto one of the smaller inter-island boats from St. Mary’s and sat tucked in at water level. Part of any island adventure is in the journey, and gazing over the ocean’s silky surface and into its turquoise depths certainly upped our sense of anticipation.
Paradise found on St. Martin’s
Our first stay was on St Martin’s, famed for its Caribbean-esq beaches, and as we disembarked, crystals of its powdery sand stuck like glitter to our toes. A tractor trailer transported our luggage from the quay to the campsite, whilst we walked the final 10 minutes down the island’s single track ‘road’. Along the route, palm trees and exotic blooms were interspersed with vigorous succulents trailing over walls and buildings. This is an ecosystem unto itself; a microclimate that allows tropical flora to thrive while a lack of mainland predators and disturbance provides a sanctuary for many native species.
Clear evidence of this was the camp ‘clean-up crew’ of sparrows, blackbirds and song thrush that greeted us on arrival at the site. Fearlessly friendly, they happily perched on our tent guide ropes or hopped about on the picnic blanket once we’d set up camp, much to our 1-year-old’s delight. His attempts to approach them for closer inspection snacks-in-hand resulted in a dance reminiscent of Cinderella and her bluebirds, in which it wasn’t entirely clear who was following whom.
Image: Birdlife is fearlessly friendly on the Isles of Scilly
The off islands (all those except St. Mary’s) are essentially car-free, which means most people get around on foot. On St. Martin’s, footpaths cross pockets of remarkably varied habitat, from stands of pine, to meadows, dunes, rocky outcrops and farmland. Circumnavigating its 6-mile coastline takes in many of these landscapes, whilst offering the chance to visit the iconic 17th-century daymark, intriguing stone labyrinths and, if the tide’s right, neighbouring White Island. There’s plenty of opportunity for swimming and picnics along the way, as well as the chance for immersion in increasingly rare nature.
Image: A series of stone labyrinths adorn the coastline
Fields and homes bordered by expertly crafted drystone walls were laced with lichen. Heathland of heather and gorse was filled with the song and activity of stonechats, linnets and wrens. Butterflies and bees abounded; their buzzing punctuated by the electric crackle of gorse seeds popping open. Meanwhile, down among the rockpools of the tidal flats, ringed plovers and oystercatchers raised their chicks and the strandline was littered with crab carcasses and shells.
Image: A ringed plover browsing the exposed shoreline of The Flats, St. Martin’s
Britain’s best beaches lapped by pristine waters
What really sets St Martin’s apart from the other islands, however, are the staggeringly beautiful beaches that fringe its shores, of which Little and Great Bay are surely the jewel in its ample crown. Being on an island is invariably all about being in, on, under or by the sea, and despite the chilly water temperature, St Martin’s really delivers in this respect. The underwater abundance, diversity and colour transported us to another world as we weaved through ribbons of thongweed and peered down through these dancing fronds at huge wrasse and spider crabs. Periwinkle-studded kelp was adorned with patches of snakeslock anemone; sea urchins clung to rocky masses, and schools of sand eels surrounded us as we snorkelled.
Image: The clear waters and beautiful beach of Little Bay, St. Martin’s
Such marine fodder sustains a large population of grey seals that can be frequently spotted relaxing at sea with their bottling nose in the air, sometimes curiously following behind you or occasionally athletically twirling through the water right in front of your eyes. Exploring the Eastern Isles by glass-bottom boat allowed us to share in these close encounters with our 1-year-old and provided further sightings of some of the islands’ resident seabirds. We drifted by cormorants drying their wings and fulmars gliding over cliffs. Shags elegantly dip-dived for fish, and razorbills floated with beaks full of those aforementioned sand eels.
Image: A curious young seal following our boat around the Eastern Isles
Sense of community and island time
Overall, life is at that slower island pace, even compared to the rest of Cornwall. Many businesses are open for just a couple of hours a few times a week with many restaurants requiring a reservation. It’s easy to get caught out and our lack of advance planning resulted in an impromptu 3km run late one afternoon, ensuring we had provisions to avoid a cereal dinner! Honesty boxes are plentiful however, selling everything from garden veggies and jams to plants, art and souvenirs, mostly for cash.
In contrast to the now frequently anonymous commercialism of the mainland, community or family-run enterprises feel prevalent, with all the friendly personability they entail. As I write this I’m sipping tea from my new favourite mug, purchased at Middle Town Barn, an honesty shop that showcases the works of a number of local craftspeople. Elsewhere, the COSMOS Observatory was another community space we were glad to stumble upon for some celestial education. On our midsummer visit it was open to look at flares on the surface of the sun, but we could well imagine that the Milky Way is startlingly visible from here on darker nights.
Image: Studying the surface of the sun at the community-run COSMOS Observatory, St. Martin’s
Perhaps unsurprisingly for an archipelago, food is generally more expensive than on the mainland, but there are also some fantastic foodie experiences on offer that are worth seeking out. Our favourite on St. Martin’s was the delightful old pub, The Seven Stones Inn, that boasts panoramic views, historic interiors, a warm welcome and excellent food. Over on Bryher, we enjoyed a memorably convivial dinner at The Crab Shack where a paired-back menu lets the local produce shine. Guests are outfitted with aprons, provided with crackers and picks and seated at communal tables to enjoy the latest catch of scallops and crab in rustic surroundings - a recommended Scillonian experience!
Image: A convivial, culinary experience at The Crab Shack on Bryher
Scenic contrasts on Bryher
In some respects, there is a common thread to off-island life. Most traffic is by foot or boat with tractors servicing transport needs and small farm holdings. Honesty boxes are plentiful alongside outlets of creativity, yet each island is also quite distinct from the next. The second part of our trip was on Bryher, one of the smallest inhabited islands, which has an altogether different feel. Here, there is a compelling juxtaposition of energies (most palpable at Shipman’s Head) between its calm channel over to civilised Tresco on one side, and the wild waves that surge across the Atlantic on the other.
Hell Bay has a particular magnetism to its rugged drama; the water a tumultuous cauldron even on a still summer’s day, and the surrounding landscape scarred by the weather it has endured. Legend has it lanterns lured ships to wreckage here for plunder and watching black-backed gulls patrol over the granite tors, powerful swell spraying up the rocks, it’s easy to imagine the scene.
Image: A view from Hell Bay Hotel
A dense carpet of heather punctuated with clusters of tormentil and faded sea thrift covers much of the island’s northern ‘downs’ and is home to gregarious blackbirds and linnets. The scrubby, bracken-lined paths further south were bejewelled with a bounty of invertebrates including rose chafer beetles in their iridescent emerald splendour and, at our feet, imposingly large oil beetles. Overhead, swallows made the most of the opportunity to raid the insect larder and feed their young on the wing in impressive blink-and-you-miss it aerobatics.
Views for days
Cornish for ‘place of hills’, Bryher has several viewpoints from which to take in vistas over layer-on-layer of water and land, and one of our favourites was Gweal Hill. Minimal effort is rewarded with a 360-degree panorama in which there is always something to pique your interest. Offshore outcrops rise across watery channels in constant flux. In contrast, the adjoining sheltered bays of Popplestone and Stinking Porth provide refuge for grey seals. Swans grace the pond-like lagoon of ‘Great Pool’ and beyond it all are distant views to Samson, St. Agnes, St. Mary’s and Tresco.
Image: Wide-reaching views over sheltered bays and offshore outcrops, Bryher
At the southwest tip of Bryher, the land returns to its dramatically craggy best at Droppy Nose Point, where rocks were supposedly piled up by locals to deter Viking attack. From the headland you can peek round to the sandy beach at Rushy Bay, glance across to Samson or St Mary’s or look down into Stony Porth, yet another popular haunt for seals. In the other direction lie the Norrard Rocks and the setting sun.
The next island is never far away…
Everywhere on this island you feel surrounded by water, and like St. Martin’s, activity is considerable here too. Weather-permitting, motorboats and catamaran are available for anyone to hire from Hut 62, allowing you to effortlessly explore some of the other islands, including uninhabited Samson, under your own steam. Across the channel, neighbouring Tresco, with its castles, Abbey Gardens and air of genteel sophistication, is altogether more manicured, although still boasts rugged heathland and unspoilt beaches around its extremities. With enough time, you can cruise all the way round to St. Martin’s and the unpopulated isles of Tean and St. Helen’s.
Image: Looking across the channel to Tresco’s Cromwell Castle
The island-hopping potential is extensive, but alas it is time for us to return to St. Mary’s for our ferry home. Arriving back at Hugh Town feels reminiscent of a smaller, less contrived St Ives and although by no means busy, the cars and shops make it feel noticeably less removed from everyday life. We feel strangely nostalgic, despite not having left Scilly yet. That is until we realise the beaches on St. Mary’s are just as picture-perfect and the turquoise water just as inviting - so much so that I have one last dip in my underwear, my swimming costume already packed away in our luggage!
