Scilly me… a hop, skip and jump to paradise
THESE days it seems we’re all rushed for time, and fitting in a long break can be tough. So, I wondered: how much could I squeeze into just a couple of days?
Well, by choosing the Isles of Scilly off southwest England’s Cornish coast, the answer is quite a lot, especially when you board a Twin Otter aircraft at bijou Newquay Airport at 8am.
Scarcely 30 minutes later I’d been collected from St Mary’s airstrip and driven to its central hub, Hugh Town, to stay at the historic Star Castle overlooking the harbour.
The next day I was taken to nearby Tresco island, where Alasdair Moore was waiting in his golf buggy. ‘There are no cars on Tresco,’ he explained. On the island, which measures just 4km by one mile, the 130 or so residents tend to walk or cycle.
Any holiday requires some culture, which Alasdair delivered. ‘In 1834 the Duchy of Cornwall leased the islands to wealthy banker Augustus Smith, “Emperor of Scilly”,’ he said, as we strolled from Valhalla, a collection of shipwrecked figureheads salvaged from waters, to the sub-tropical Abbey Gardens.
‘The islands were very poor back then. Smith introduced measures that made them prosperous. The other isles were handed back to the duchy but Smith’s descendants still own Tresco.’
Many of the gardens’ striking plants wouldn’t survive further north. But in the mild Scillies, they thrive.
Next it was time for a ‘safari’ with the local Wildlife Trust’s Darren Hart. He showed me rare wildflowers and two grey seals. The Scilly shrews remained elusive (well, they’re only 2in long) and the birds were quiet – though, come October, Tresco will be
thick with twitchers ticking off rare migrants that get blown off course.
Post-safari, it was time for my ‘cruise’ with Richard Mills, owner of Scilly Sailing. I kayaked from a white-sand bay over a sea of Caribbean hue. We were aiming for uninhabited St Helen’s and, after an easy paddle, soon hauled ashore. A short climb to the island’s summit revealed fine views. We then devoured Bryher crab rolls amid the ruins of an 8th Century chapel.
Returning by boat to St Mary’s, there was just enough time for a stroll around Hugh Town. I windowshopped, ate a scoop of St Agnes-made Troytown ice cream, and sank an Ales of Scilly brew in The Mermaid Inn.
At 5.30pm, I headed for the airport and by 6.30pm I was airborne, gazing down on the Scilly’s glistening waters and golden sand. Just 30 minutes later, I’d landed back in the real world.