Shooting like a sicklea formation of shearwaters close over the water, while the puffins prefer to drift. High above, majestic great black-backed gulls circle leisurely. It's the warm wind,that rises from the land and carries them across the sky. On this summer's day, the picture below them looks almost paradisiacal from their airy vantage point: deep blue sea all around, the archipelago of green islands whose coastsLined by beaches become.
The fine sand on the seabed reflects the sunlight and makes the lagoons glow from within. It could be the Caribbean.
It is the North Atlantic. And it can also be very different: storms rage here for weeks in winter. And when the wind goes, the fog comes. This is how the Isles of Scilly, thelike the head of a lurking sea monster The jaws of the monster, which protrude from the sea twenty nautical miles off the coast of Cornwall, become a trap. For centuries, the monster's jaws have been mercilessly splintering whatever they can get their hands on.
The nautical charts of Scilly arewith the names of the victims Isabo", "Daphne" and "Endeavour". "Thomas W. Lawson" and "U-1209". In 1707, Admiral Cloudesley Shovell made a navigational error - and not only did he lose three ships of the line in his fleet: of the 2,000 or so sailors on board, only one survived.a single man - It wasn't Sir Cloudesley.
Some reefs are also particularly notorious: At Crim Rocks alone, 16 wrecks have found their final resting place. There are more than 500 in total around the islands. Tens of thousands of people drowned.
Fortunately, our journey was more peaceful: while our "Rolling Swiss 2" waiting for a replacement pump in Plymouth harbour (see BOOTE 01/2019) we use the time for a trip to the Isles of Scilly. This secluded spot has long since become a popular holiday destination in the summer season.a tourist magnet have become. If you're not travelling on your own keel, you can fly in on the turboprop plane or make the crossing, as we did, on board the "Scillonian 3", which sails daily between Penzance in Cornwall andHugh Town on the main island of St Mary's where we stayed at the Bell Rock Hotel for two nights.
WEDNESDAY, 27 JUNE:Island exploration is on the programme today; the boat for this,a Powercat 525, which we have hired for a day from Isles of Scilly Boat Hire, Bertrand takes over early in the morning. There are also two 40 hp outboards anda small dinghy with paddleswhich is wedged between the bow pulpits on the foredeck. There is also a plotter on board and a single sea chart bleached by salt and sun for a better overview.
We see lots of rocks and reefs off the shore. So the peaceful image is deceptive - but why should the interior of the islands be any different from their predatory, rock-strewn exterior?
We also have a lot of wind today, certainlyfour Beaufort from the southwest. The flags flutter stiffly in the sky. From the land shield we head across St Mary's Sound, where the long swell rolls in and we are about toneat Atlantic get off. No problem, it dries quickly! It's a good nautical mile across to St Agnes, our first destination.
The rocks off Porth Conger, an inlet between the island and its smaller neighbour Gugh, now protrude like a sharp blade out of the rising and falling sea at low tide. One of the yellow buoys is free and our dinghy goes overboard. We only need a few quick pulls, then we pull the boat as far as we can up the steep sandy beach.
Up at Turks Head, holidaymakers sit in the sun. Sand on the concrete, plants from other latitudes and flowers in fantastic shapes that only botanists know about here. Inside the pub, faded flags and black and white photos on the dark panelling tell of stoic fishermen and the former pride of the Royal
Navy, the "Hood" and the "Vanguard". Try to make your way along the shore and across the narrow fields enclosed by high hedges to the lighthouse, which is no longer in use,but lose ourselves in the labyrinth.
At full throttle we chase back to St Mary's to collect Marc. Our skipper has done some shopping for our picnic. However, the water at the dinghy jetty in Hugh Town is now also low. Our propeller bumps twice through the fortunately very fine sand. Finally, however, we set off fully loaded for Tresco, the most charming island in the archipelago, as they say. A glance at the nautical chart reveals that navigating here at this tide is not easy, even with a small boat. There are no buoys, but there are all the more underwater obstacles.
There is no room for us at the pier at Crow Point in the south of the island, and the wind is so rough that anchoring is not a good idea either - not least because our tiny dinghy is almost impossible to pull against. So we venture on to the north-east of the island to Old Grimsby. But you have to reach this bay first. The journey is correspondingly exciting:
Light-coloured water means a sandy bottom, dark areas indicate vegetation on the bottom - or rocks just below the surface. Diamond Ledge, the Pentle Rocks, Tea Ledge. Back and forth, zigzagging slowly ahead. We use the boat hook for sounding, just to be on the safe side. The water is often only one metre deep. Then the only option is to make our way through the kelp, which is thick around the boat.
Soon we will haveplenty of salad in the drives and have to stop to free the propellers. The current has quite a bite! But we make it, and the effort is rewarded: the bay is beautiful. Rocks to the east, the small island of St Helen to the north, Round Island with its white lighthouse behind it. To the west is the wide, sandy bay of Old Grimsby Harbour. We find a buoy, row ashore and this time carry the dinghy to above the shell and seagrass strip of the high water mark. Shore leave! Morten goes all Robinson and tries it barefoot, "which is kind of the thing here". A tough test, even for his leather soles ... But in fact it's pure relaxation.
The small cottages are surrounded by flower hedges like garlands of blossom, and the elongated deckchairs in the Ruin Beach Café, which would be equally at home in the Bahamas, look more than inviting.
Straw hats and frothy drinks, mirror glasses and sparse shade. We head along the shore to the Old Block House, a ruin on a hill overlooking the bay to the south. Here we spread out our picnic: Pimm's, strawberries and sandwiches withCoronation Chicken from the Co-op in Hugh Town.
Unfortunately, we don't have time for the Abbey Gardens with their tropical treetops and fern forests, so we take the concrete slab path to the other side of the island to New Grimsby, which almost looks like a hotel complex with its clean alleyways, accurate signposting and souvenir shop. Opposite is the neighbouring island of Bryher, which is probably just as beautiful, and there are queues of people waiting for the ferry back to St. Mary's at New Grimsby pier, which juts out into the sound.
The large buoy field is full of yachts lazily swinging around their lines. We take the shorter route back to Old Grimsby, which also takes us past the church with its mossy gravestones, but Morten is now feeling his feet. We barely make it to the deckchairs on the terrace of the Ruin Beach Café. To cool offPale ale from Cornwalltwo "Eureka" in marvellously fogged glasses. How that fits: We really have found something very special here!
Thursday, 28 June:Our last day in the Scillies and another full programme: check-out at the Bell Rock Hotel. Our launch to the island of St Martin's, which we want to visit today before our return journey to Penzance and Plymouth, doesn't leave until a quarter past ten, so we still have some time.
But the harbour is alreadya lot of hustle and bustle. Entire school classes have landed on the "Scillonian" today, some in uniform. Our tickets to St Martin's cost nineteen pounds, and "Britannia", an open wooden barge of which the skipper is very proud, is already waiting at the steps - because she is not plastic.
The crossing is pleasant, with almost no wind. The water shimmers, the beaches dazzle. What a contrast to last night: Germany was eliminated from the World Cup without a sound. An event that we were able to experience live in the "Mermaid", our favourite pub during our three-day stay... Good thing we weren't far from the tap.
On board, we are now offered polite sympathy. The proverbial British sporting spirit is apparently still alive and well despite the threat of Brexit. Even the beefy curly-haired man with the tattooed Spitfire on his arm keeps a low profile:Don't hate the game!
Due to the low water level, we moor at the Lowertown pier in the west of St Martin's. It couldn't be more Mediterranean: pale green sprouts from the dry earth and bees dance around the flowers. Dusty paths wind in the harsh sunlight. First we follow the island road, then we head through the bush. Ferns rustle on either side, and quarry stone walls divide the cracked earth into a pattern of crumbling angles. All that's missing are the cicadas!
Deep down in a quiet bay on the north side of the island, a lone sailor is moored at the buoy. It's about four kilometres to St. Martin's Head, the last stretch, Chapel Down, is higher and much more barren. Heathland. Soft moorland, heather in bloom.
Marc's phone rings: Good news, the repairs to the "Rolling Swiss 2" have been completed! After returning to Plymouth, we can really set sail. First, however, our goal is the large white and red beacon on the cliff edge, more than eleven metres high and the most important landmark for all ships approaching Scilly from the east during the day. Next to it are the ruins of the old chapel. Another wonderful place for a picnic with a blue panorama.
Then we take the coastal path until Par Beach comes into view. We are almost speechless - the almost silvery beach, the lagoon in front of it with more sandbanks and the Eastern Isles, a gallery of rocks in front of it. A few parasols provide a splash of colour, a dry fishing boat, kayakers and paddleboarders.
Between palm trees and orchids This is followed by the final stretch to the pier at Higher Town, where we sit down on the warm rocks and can no longer resist the holiday mood. What's still missing before the launch arrives? We climb over the rocks into the warm water. In shorts, but what the hell? It's the best idea of the day, we let ourselves drift wonderfully. We become very light. Scilly really is too good to be true...
