So we’ve reached the end of our first week on Saint Helena, and are pretty much exhausted. Its hard to comprehend the amount of changes, and things we have organised and accomplished in the last few weeks. Charlie, who is three years old, left his home a month ago, lived with my parents, lived with Bevs parents, went on a 11 hour flight (his first ever) and all that entails, spent a night in Cape Town, Spent five nights at sea, moved to a new Island, moved to a new house and started school for the first time! It’s a lot to take in for a three year old!

After arriving last Wednesday I have learnt to tackle the local roads, especially as my new found role on the Island is as Dads Taxi. Drivers are on the Island are, in the main, very friendly and it has become customary to give a quick wave when passing other drivers, or pedestrians, or those sat watching the world go by, or cats, birds and anything else really. In essence if you pass by it, its nice to give it a quick wave.

As a general rule if you are heading down a hill you give way to those coming up it. On Saint Helena you will only ever be doing one or the other of those two options, speeds are limited to 30mph or less, largely due to the frequent sharp bends, and steep roads. As a result of this, hitting fourth gear heading slightly down hill on the only strait road we have yet encountered, was greeted by cheers from all those in the car. It is often said that the Islands cars are a throw back to the 70s and 80, a time of Ford Cortina’s, but sadly, whilst there are a few dotted around, the Island has caught up in that respect and is now dominated by Ford Focus or various Four by Fours, including the popular “six pack” the local expression for a Toyota Hylux.

In my role as house husband I have been getting to know Jamestown, a bustling little town full of character. The town really is, barring the odd exception, such as the local media provider, a throwback to some older time. It would not feel at all strange to see Darwin, King George, or Napoleon himself strolling through town searching out which shop had the freshest fruit. But I think I like this age gone by. There are no ATM’s on the island, instead, you go to the bank and converse with an actual person, there is no danger of your fingers being taken off as you make a cash deposit.

The post office is wonderful, reminiscent of Post Offices in old Western films, with individual booths and Iron bars separating you from the polite and friendly postal worker.

A particularly interesting quirk of the island is the ability to phone a company, and have them answer the phone and speak to you. They do this without the need to navigate through a multitude of push button options, repeat a security password to three different people in Bangladesh, and subject ones ears to an endless repeat of copy write free musical trash. They just answer the phone, we should look into such revolutionary out of the box thinking back in the UK.

Finding food and goods is more of a challenge than the UK, but is not the Ray Meers style expedition we had been led to believe. Shops are stocked with a wide range of dried goods from Tesco and Asda, as well a South Africa, and more and more fresh local produce of vegetables and meats are generally on hand. Although choice is much reduced we have eaten well and dined on home cooked fish, chicken and pork thus far and enjoyable family meals have become the norm. Local restaurants serve well cooked food, although they are undoubtedly lacking in culinary imagination and variety. This is due in the main to the lack of dining out experience of the Saints and I expect there are many opportunities for a good restaurateur on the Island.

People on the Island are friendly and welcoming. There is a definite curiosity around the Islands latest new arrivals and one can feel eyes upon you when walking down the street. Our conversations and scrutiny with locals of who, what and why are often rapidly passed on to waiting friends and colleagues and whomever else wishes to know about us. At first, I confess, this bothered me, and I thought back to small villages in the UK and the scorn and deride that an incomer can often generate, is it the same in Saint Helena? After careful though I conclude that no, on Saint Helena finding out who someone is and what they do is an essential part of the functionality of this small community. This Island of just four thousand people has the facilities, and infrastructure that would serve a much larger community in the UK. Name me a village in the UK, of four thousand people, that has the tools and expertise to provide a hospital, doctors, banks, garages, shops, fishermen, emergency services, conservation, builders and planners, policing etc etc. Yet this is achieved despite real difficulties in communications, lack of available resources, roads that are slow at best and impassable at worse, street names and house numbers are often not present and many houses don’t actually have an address. The island works because everyone talks to each other, they find out what each other’s role is, what they can do and contribute, how they can work with and for each other. To find out where to buy something, get something fixed, recruit a service, you do not go on-line, you speak to people, you find out. And I believe this is the main reason that new comers to the Island generate such curiosity, what do they do, can they help me or I them? Well, that and a certain degree of checking out the new neighbours!

Oliver, Charlie and Bev all started school in varying capacities. Bev started at the Prince Andrew secondary school. Unfortunately her Marine roll is on hold until the new Science teacher arrives in January, but she has plunged strait into a full science teaching time table. Oliver has started at Pilling School, one of three primary schools on the Island. Starting year two he has adjusted remarkably well, and despite a little wobble today he appears to be making friends and is generally happy to be there.

Charlie is presenting more of a challenge. His first day I left him screaming and crying, this heart breaking experience leaving me feeling glad that Bev had not been there for it. Walking away I could not look back at him and shed a tear hearing his cries, fully understanding his confusion and rejection at being left with strangers against his will. Whilst Im sure this has been a common experience for parents across the world this week, few three year olds have experienced the enormity of change that our Charlie has.

While our first full week draws to a close I look forward to our already regular Friday night at Donnies, a water front bar, and with huge excitement to our first boat trip to search out the resident Dolphins and breeding Humpback Whales and their Calves.

* I must apologise for the lack of accompanying photos for today’s post, I have simply not had time to carry a camera around with me, but my aim for tomorrow is to make up for that so keep your eyes peeled for a blog full of images tomorrow night.As I have no photos the cover photo is an extra one from our journey over when leaving Capetown.

Well, my intention of being up at 6am to see St Helena as a dot on the horizon did, rather predictably, fall by the way side. So, crawling out of bed at 7.30am, we made our way to the deck and there she was. The Island, the focus of our attention for the last 5 months, the vision in our heads for what feels like a life time St Helana. What a wonderful exciting moment, shared with others emerging on deck to see their new home for the first time, whispers and murmurings of emotions giving way to a tide of noise and chatter as eventually all 125 passengers appear on deck wide eyed.

St Helena as approached from the South. Our first view of the Island

I peered at this rock emerging from the sea, imagining myself in the opening scenes of King Kong. As we approached the barren  rocky cliffs, the Islands  secret lush interior is revealed only by the sight of a loan tree sat on the Island’s highest point, Diana’s Peak (823m). Two things struck me; mostly, I thought that this is a small island, a very small island, a spec in an endless ocean. My mind turned to the pioneering explorers, the Christopher Columbus’s of this World, the excitement and sheer overwhelming joy that must have greeted those brave men who crossed Oceans with no maps, in the hope of forging brave new worlds.  St Helena, although a British Territory for hundreds of years, was discovered in 1502 by Portuguese navigator João da Nova, on his voyage home from India and what must he of felt when, like me, he first saw the looming sea cliffs ahead of him?

The second thing that struck both Bev and I was its apparent lack of any recognisable inhabitants. Approaching the South side of the Island a huge wall of rock and sheers cliffs is all that can be seen, this imposing structure changes and becomes more welcoming as we move East round the island, the barren rock face gives way to welcoming peaks and troughs with lush green valleys and dry peaks. Eventually the ship approaches the North of the Island, the capital Jamestown and the first clues of the Islands inhabitants and long history comes into view as we weigh anchor to disembark.

Moving round the Island from South to North

We move around to the North of the Island a steep impassable cliffs give way to stunning high ridges and velleys

As we approach our anchor point the Capital, Jamestown and the suburb of Half Tree Hollow on the “flat” plateau come into view

From our steady anchor point the capital, Jamestown is clearly visible, a narrow town of colourful houses rising up following the line of a steep sided valley. We get our first glimpse of Half Tree Hollow, a residential suburb of Jamestown perched high on a plateau and our soon to be new home town. We can even see our new house from here and thoughts of evenings spent looking out across the setting sun over the Atlantic Ocean fill my head.

Sat up on the plateau is Half Tree Hollow, accessible by a steep cliff side road which traverses the right side of the volcanic valley of the capital Jamestown

Before we know it our time aboard the RMS is over, and we disembark onto a small shuttle boat which takes us to the Wharf. Waiting for a favourable wave to lift our boat high enough to step onto the dry land we have a nervous excitement and butterflies in our stomachs. A short shuttle bus journey to the customs post is filled with the chattering’s of expectant and nervous new Islanders.

We left the RMS via this set of steps onto a shuttle boat.

After the necessaries through customs and immigration control we are greeted by Bev’s new boss and some work colleagues. On board the ship with us were the St Helena’s Commonwealth Games team, the returning heroes welcomed by a good crowd of local Saints and songs from pupils of the local primary schools. It was difficult not to feel as though somehow the cheers were for us, the Tyson’s, who have completed their epic journey and who’s new and fascinating life lies ahead of them.

Oliver is already off looking at the first of the Islands wildlife, aptly names Lightfoot crabs and Nimble Spray Crabs scuttling across the rocky breakwaters, with curious and beautiful Fairy Terns swooping by to investigate the Islands new residents.

After more form filling and waiting, we are taken to our hire car, a surprisingly normal Ford Focus, and followed the guide to our new home. This is the first of my island adventures, the incredible, steep road traversing across the shear face of Ladder Hill. Rising from sea level to around 400m along a narrow, winding road with cliffs to our right I am glad to be on the inside of the road. I learn very quickly that the Island is brutal on a car, but walking any distance is not an option. With a touch of Colin McRae, kicking up dust behind me we turn a sharp bend and Half Tree Hollow is laid out across the hill side ahead of us.

We had been told that the habitat and climate varies enormously across the Island, and that our home was on a dry arid plain, but nothing prepared me for the site that confronted us. Like a scene strait out of a Texan Western, our small home was surrounded by Cacti on all sides. We climbed a steep, dry, dusty track that leads to our home and as I look back down the hill I find myself dumbstruck at the most incredible view, looking out across the Ocean. Somehow, the endless blue we have seen all too well for 6 days has not lost any of its ability to impact the senses.

Can this be true, that we are here; that this surreal dream is a reality; that I and my family now live, on an Island, six miles wide and ten long. 1200miles from Africa, 1800miles from South America in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean; that we live, on the Island of Saint Helena.