Easter, Awesome and Loss

Posted on April 21, 2015 by paultyso under 2015, April

So its been a bit of a while once again since my last update, seems that my life continues to be rather hectic, and whilst we have settled into our new home and many of the Island ways, taking it easy and living life at a more relaxed pace does not seem to be one of them. It’s a shame in some ways, but St Helena is just so full of fantastic things to see and do, and is such a social place that there is always something you wish to be doing, or getting involved with.

I go back now to Easter, which makes me realise just how long it has been since I last wrote. Easter on St Helena is exactly what it should be. One shop in town that I know of was selling Easter Eggs, a refreshing change from the marketing bombardment that occurs in the UK in the lead up to any public holiday. Like many things in the Western world, Easter has become about the most chocolate, the largest egg, and generally how much money can be put into the pockets of Nestle and Cadbury, the meaning of Easter has largely been lost.

Of course the true meaning of Easter is religious, and most of you will know I am not a religious person, quite the opposite. St Helena however is a very religious place and as such Easter is in general held in high regard, carrying a special meaning to many of the people here. But what was most pleasing about Easter on St Helena is the sense of family, the sense of holiday. It is the one weekend a year where literally everything stops, no work, no shops, no diving, the Island shuts down so that families can spend time together, it is wonderful. Many Saints on the Island take the opportunity to go camping, but this is not camping UK style, people camp in large extended family groups, taking with them all manner of home comforts, and providing opportunities for siblings and cousins to run and play, for families to catch up and spend quality time with each other. Of course, some traditions from the UK can be recognised, that of camping in the rain, and it seems to be well known that, largely due to all the camping, Easter weekend will bring with it buckets of rain!!

And so it was with buckets of rain that our own Easter began, and organised walk cancelled five minutes in as the heavens opened and soaked everyone down to their underwear within moments. A hasty retreat to a friend’s house and a change of clothes actually led to a lovely few hours drinking tea and chatting away whilst the boys played, rather surprisingly with a tea set! Spending quality time with friends became the main focus of the weekend. A dinner hosted by ourselves and some fairly damn impressive Chinese food served up by yours truly on the Sunday night and lunch with friends on Easter Monday.

On the work front I have completed one, and nearly completed a further two large projects I have been working on. The tourism website now boats up to date photos and information on all of the Islands accommodation and restaurants, the first of my big projects on Island, you can check out my work in the “Where to Eat” and “Where to Stay” sections of the website. It has been fantastic to visit these establishments, meet new people and find out about some of the positive tourism work being done here, as well as enjoying the odd freebie meal for my efforts, and of course being paid for my first major photography project.

On behalf of the National Trust I have been producing interpretation to improve the visitor experience at High Knoll Fort, one of the Islands historic landscapes. As well as improvements to structural parts of the fort, visitors can now find out more about the fascinating history of this site and it feels wonderful that when I leave St Helena something of my work will remain.

The weekend after Easter saw another trip to Lemon Valley, far from becoming bored of visiting Lemon Valley, we had a fantastic time. Partly due to spending time with new friends and expanding our social circles but, in the main, due to the presence of two, brand new jet ski’s. I and the boys had a fantastic time shooting around the bay. Kyle, owner of one of the jet skis and myself managed to turn so tightly in the 1500cc jet ski that we flipped it right upside down. I also had my first ever go on a knee board, pulled behind the jet ski at ridiculous speeds I quickly got the hang of it and before long was riding the wake and performing full 360 degree spins. I was officially described as awesome by eleven year old Luis, who’s Dad owns the second of the jet ski’s.

My Monday night dive was one of my best yet as I spent moments with a Devil Ray. Commonly thought of by divers on the Island as one of the most wonderful encounters, Bev and I have been longing to see one and although we had a brief encounter whilst snorkelling (at Lemon Valley) this was my first real encounter with one. Whilst it was only a short encounter it will leave a lasting impression. Filing with the go pro and some shoals of fish, I spotted our dive leader Anthony frantically pointing at something, as I turned round this large dark diamond loomed into view. Gracefully, and with slow motion movements this 6ft goliath swam casually past us, its Ramora companions in two. Often Devil rays will spend time with groups of divers, seemingly as curious about them as the divers are in return, but for sadly our devil ray had no such intentions and despite giving chase I could not keep up and he disappeared into the blue as quickly as he had appeared. As we surfaced some time later we emerged to the most fantastic sunset, and spectacular end to a fantastic dive.

Late in the season we have also experienced some of the clearest night skies and amazing views of the stars I have ever witnessed, or am ever likely to witness. A night time drive further inland and away from the lights of Jamestown was nothing short of breath-taking. The milky way could be seen in all its glory, and small swirls of bright cloud marked distant galaxies. The stars have been bright before but this was simply amazing. It has also increased my excitement at my latest purchase, a new Full Frame, semi-professional Canon EOS6d. Like everything brought to St Helena there is a wait, and it is another three or so weeks until my shiny new camera arrives. Seeing these night skies has made the wait seem even longer!

The central ridge at night

Milkey way, St Helena

Pro Arc, Project Management firm on St Helena with awesome Landrovers

The view from my back garden.

This past few weeks has been some of the best we have had on St Helena, full of fun and laughter, but I also experienced one of my hardest times. I have debated whether to include this in my blog, after all some experiences I believe should be kept private, but as a reflection of our time here, and a memoire of our experience and memories then I believe I should reflect on all of our times here, both good and bad. My Nan unfortunately passed away last week. She had been ill and in hospital for some time and we knew the inevitable would happen soon. It has been incredibly difficult being away from home, unable to help support my Mum, unable to provide some happiness in the final weeks of my Nan’s life. The news of her passing was upsetting, but nothing had actually changed for me and the news did not immediately affect me greatly. But Thursday was the day of her funeral, as I sat at the table working on yet more photos I looked at the time and realised the service was going ahead as I sat there. Alone, To try and make myself feel connected to the service some 4000 miles away, I listen to the music that was to be played at church, this was a mistake and was quickly followed by a release of emotion and grief.

I am ok now, I needed to feel something, to feel her passing, and sat at that table I cannot think of a time I have felt more alone. But before long the boys were home from school to annoy me, and the normal evening chores ensued. When I said good bye to my Nan eight months ago, I never expected that would be a good bye for good. Being on St Helena is wonderful, we are extremely privileged to be here and experience this, but it comes at a cost, and being so far from family and close friends is one of those costs.

Back to all things awesome, and my fridge is now stocked with a small bag of chocolate, not just any old chocolate mind, but handmade Belgium chocolate made by a master chocolatier. Sarah Jane Sharman, a biologist and local fungus expert amongst other things, ran her own business in the UK making fine chocolates after years of professional training. She has thankfully now started to make chocolates on Island and they are divine. Good chocolate is a rare thing on St Helena, it doesn’t last the journey well as the milks and solids separate due to the fluctuating temperatures in the containers. As I bit into a perfectly made dark chocolate truffle I even made a little noise of delight. I sincerely hope that Sarah keeps this up; I have become her biggest fan.

Politics tends to dominate the news in St Helena, a delicate and complex situation dictates that it is always up for discussion. But a recent big story has shown the best and worst of St Helena in one go. In the past few months, an entrepreneurial partnership has opened up a mobile bar and grill, named Amphibians, serving the hospital staff during the day, and providing a wonderful waterfront open bar in the evenings. There are however a small minority of Saints, who are resentful of people, ex-pat or otherwise, making something of themselves. I don’t believe I am out of place saying that, as it is through Saints that I have discovered this. It is against this backdrop that the mobile bar was apparently set on fire whilst in storage, destroying most of the bar and equipment in what is believed to be a deliberate act of arson. Fortunately this is where the bad news ends. Having lost almost everything on the Tuesday, thanks to the goodwill and help of the community they were ready and open for business by Thursday evening. People rallied round to donate fridges and repair the trailer and woodwork. The nurses and hospital staff, who appreciate their doorstep lunch service made a collection and raised £200 to help purchase new equipment. From terrible news came great community spirit as messages of good will and offers of help came flying in. Far from damaging the business, the perpetrators have only served to enhance the standing and reputation of Amphibians, and presented an opportunity to show the community spirit and all that is good and great about this small Island.

We have reached eight months in into our adventure, in three we will be returning to the UK for our mid-term break. It feels strange even saying that, time has truly flown. But for now we will continue to concentrate on all that St Helena has to offer, diving, snorkelling, nature and above all people, really wonderful people, Saint, Ex-pat, South African, black and white all wonderful in this awesome little melting pot of people in the South Atlantic Ocean.

Just before I leave, I was thrilled to read this week’s Sentinal, and a letter from Jan Schou and Vibeke Amelung in Denmark who have been following my blog. Thank you so much, it really is wonderful to know people are still enjoying my ramblings.

An Easy Entry

Posted on April 3, 2015 by paultyso under Uncategorized

An easy entry for me today, I’m simply going to copy and paste someone else work, not plagiarism but with permission from Ceri Sansom. Ceri works for the Environmental Management Division here on St Helena, her husband Ben heads up the division and the team who are helping to restore the fragile habitats of which I spoke about last time. Her very well written account of the challenges they face compliments my last blog entry perfectly. Here I am enjoying the fruits of the work of people like those who work at EMD and here Ceri is explaining the difficulties in restoring somewhere like the Diana’s Peak national park. Please read on, and take a look at Ceri’s Page, its well worth a visit.

And thank you Ceri for allowing me to use your blog.

St Helena’s terrestrial conservation is a story that cuts both ways. It is a story with successes. It is also a story of monumental failure. It depends, to some extent, where you start your timeline.

When the Portuguese stumbled across the island in 1502 it was a unique biosphere; an extraordinary natural treasure. Not that the sailors would have seen it in that light. To them it was land, food, water and a means to extend their domain. So, how to improve it? Add meat (goats) and maybe a few citrus trees and all of a sudden it has become a stepping stone into the ocean and beyond.

Within a few short decades the introduced animal life ate its way through the verdant forests. Humanity worked through a good chunk of the rest for buildings, boat mending and fuel. Who knows how many species and fragile microcosms were lost. In Napoleon’s time there was still a Great Wood at Longwood, but goats and rabbits and man stripped the land, until there were just a few cliffs or high areas that escaped the devastation. With the vegetation went the accumulated soils and the treasures within. Reports of vast volumes of soils being washed from the rocks that lie comfortably at a 35degree angle corroborate the idea that this island is now only 20% of its size only a few, short million years ago. The soils and rocks continue to slide away particularly in scruffy August when the sea becomes cloudy with sediment and it is rockfall season.

Twenty years ago, in 1980 Dr Quentin Cronk, from Cambridge University, spent a few short weeks on the island. He met with George Benjamin, a Saint searching the landscape for lost species. It was a partnership that marked the start of the terrestrial conservation on St Helena that we know it today. Having a passion for rediscovery George had already found the lost St Helena olive (now extinct). During Quentin’s short time here they walked many of the remotest areas of the island scouring cliffs and inaccessible tracts for endemic plants. With George’s extraordinary eyesight he spotted a specimen of St Helena Ebony clinging a tens of metres down an inaccessible cliff below the Asses Ears. George’s brother, Charlie, a fisherman and therefore climber (you have to be good on these cliff tracks with a sack of fish on your back), was sent down on the end of a rope to retrieve cuttings which he bought back up between his teeth. These were duly taken back to Royal Botanic Gardens Kew for formal identification and fortuitously the cuttings rooted on the RMS so not only was there a herbarium sample but live specimens too.

This was the start of a building interest in clawing back the remnants of St Helena’s endemic plants. It has been a long haul with successes and failures.

In the intervening years many others, including Stedson Stroud, have joined the hunt and and found a Bastard Gumwood, a few St Helena boxwoods and the finding of a ‘lost’ group of St Helena tea plants. In the Scotland nursery Vanessa Thomas has bought her breadth of experience from old time Saints and Kew horticultural techniques to bear. Many other ecologists have bought their expertise to the island to catalogue and take the early steps in understanding how the habitats might work – not just for plants but invertebrate life too. EMD, St Helena National Trust and the St Helena Conservation Group all contribute to the effort. Serious efforts have been made to squirrel away seed collections for storage and to create living collections on island. But all is not rosy. There are significant hurdles that are only on the periphery of research, let alone action.

The problem with finding ‘the last one’ of anything is that the genetic variation is tiny and unrepresentative, and this makes the offspring inbred and weak. For example, take the Irish potato famine. That was (at least in part) down to the lack of genetic diversity in the potato so the entire harvest failed as a result of a particular fungal attack, resulting in the starvation of a nation. The same is true of any single plant. Often they are hard to breed from and the offspring are uncommonly fragile and vulnerable. This is a problem facing many of the endemics here. The population sizes have dwindled and although now bulked up and apparently healthy, the population will be less resilient than a more diverse collection. It is an issue that will continue to be felt, particularly with the advent of climate change and reduced habitat imposing more challenging conditions on the plants.

Another, seemingly more subtle, problem is that of lack of fungi in the soil. Many plants rely on fungal association (so fungi and plant roots grow in alliance to the benefit of both) to allow them to extract the nutrition from soils. For some species it is absolutely essential, for others it is the difference between spindly and robust growth. It is not a process that is widely understood, least of all on St Helena, although some root samples retrieved by Prof Cronk in years gone by would suggest that there may well be particular fungi that support particular plants. This is a problem. Firstly, because it means it is not possible to just pop plants in the soil and assume that that they will grow, as in most areas of re-colonisation the soil containing the necessary fungal spores has gone. Secondly, it means it is probably not possible to add some generalist fungi (if it were agreed with biosecurity) to the mix and hope more vigorous trees are produced. An example perhaps is that of the gumwood. These should be wonderfully open canopy gnarled daisy trees, and yet a noticeable proportion of the trees that have been carefully planted seem to get to a certain height and then stop. And then die. Because there are so many factors at play it is hard to identify what horticultural practices may entice these beautiful umbrella shaped trees back to their full habit, but depleted soils do not help.

When you present a case you should use no more than three points to make a case, or so I’ve been taught. So now I’m faced with a dilemma. I want to talk about the daily challenge of not allowing species to go extinct (St Helena Olive extinct, Bastard Gumwood last adult dead seeds in propagation, False Gumwood last specimen in the wild dead and a stiff fight for the large bellflower), fragmentation of habitats, increasing pressure from more types of invasives with consequent increase in labour intensive methods to preserve habitats, shrinking good quality habitats and the impact of short term project funding compromises conservation. They are all significant challenges and they all affect the resilience of habitats to climate change and water supply. But I have intruded on your time enough.

Prof Cronk has returned to St Helena, which I hope marks only the end of the beginning. He is delighted with the recolonization programmes, the opportunity to learn from them and although the Benjamin brothers are no longer here to share his enthusiasm, it builds on their extraordinary commitment to conservation. Although St Helena has a habitat that is a shadow of its former self, it still is the home of 30% of the UK and British Overseas Territories endemic biodiversity – something that has to be worth protecting and cherishing. But it will take work, expertise, commitment and funding to preserve what we have left.

Walking St Helena – Diana’s Peak

Posted on March 30, 2015 by paultyso under 2015, March

After six months on the Island, I finally had the opportunity to climb to the highest point for thousands of miles, the summit of Diana’s Peak, 823m above sea level. With a dive club outing cancelled due to rough seas, we hastily arranged a group to do the walk, in the knowledge that groups of people help to distract Charlie from his exertion and inevitable subsequent moaning.

We started a little later than planned due to the late night partying of some of our walking companions, but once all gathered at the entrance gate on Cabbage Tree Road we were under way.

High Knoll Fort, the view from our car before we even started walking.

Mandy, Harriot and the boys at the start of the walk. Im not sure who enjoyed who’s company more but the four of them were thick as thieves!

The path initially rose steeply, through a well cut track surrounded by thick growths of flax either side of us. As the fitter members of the group charged ahead, it took a shout out to remind them of the four year old who’s pace would dictate that of the walk, and who was already starting to tire up the steep rise.

We regrouped at the top of this zig zagged slope and I spotted my first glimpse of the alien world we were about to encounter, the odd isolated Tree Fern pushing their way through the flax and invasive ground level ferns. Diana’s peak is the central and highest of three peaks that form the Diana’s Peak National Park, one of the most rare, unique and precious landscapes on the planet. A home to endemic plants, daisy’s that grow as trees, ferns with woody stalks rising 4 meters high, their bark blanketed in thick water retaining mosses. These rare plants, found nowhere else on earth provide homes for even rarer animals, 200 species of endemic insects from, Golden Sail Spiders, blushing snails and perhaps the rarest animal on earth, the Spikey Yellow Woodlouse make St Helena’s central peaks their home, some of which survive only on one species of plant. They are extremely fragile, precious and clinging onto existence. This 50 acre site contains more endemic species than any European country, 48% of the species found in this tiny area, are found no-where else on earth other than on this special Island. I was aware of the precious nature of this national park, and now I was genuinely excited to be taking my first footsteps into it.

The views start to open up as we look back towards High Peak

Looking back towards High Knoll Fort

The path levelled off as we reached the ridge that forms the central peaks, and with Charlie finding fresh legs we moved on as the view opened up around us. I have seen some spectacular views on St Helena, but the walk across the central peaks is simply breath-taking, gobsmackingly beautiful. Rows of Tree ferns interspersed by ancient Black Cabbage trees (I told you these plants were strange) marked our path as we ascended the first of the three peaks. At this point I would like to tell you that this was Cuckholds Peak, but perhaps it was Actaeon, truth is, no-one is quite sure. We are fairly certain that the central and highest peak is Diana’s peak, but maps stretching back to the early 1800’s show the names of the two sister peaks swapping with great regularity and as such no one is completely certain which is which, the map at the entrance to the park suggests Cuckholds Peak comes first, this is good enough for me.

Arriving on the summit of what we established was Cuckholds peak the view is 360 degree and staggering. Looking west takes your eye along the central ridge, the lush green slopes of High Peak, with dense flax providing a velvet green carpet to its steep slopes. To the East we look out over prosperous bay Plain, a barren desert landscape, volcanic rock and ash layered to form the jagged rocks of King and Queen rocks, Turks Cap and the Barn as well the site of the new airport, clouded in huge plumes of dust swept high into the sky by the stiff Atlantic winds. Turn South and the spectacular natural amphitheatre of Sandy Bay is laid before us, red and purple rocks, with white lines of guano marking the knife edged ridges of the volcanic ravines. A spin round North reveals High Knoll fort, James Valley, Rupert’s Bay and the Basil Read supply ship, NP Glory 4 sat in the bay waiting for the right sea conditions to dock. The central peaks can be seen from almost anywhere on the Island, and although not particularly high by mountain standards sitting as they do in the centre of an Island they are literally the highest point for thousands of miles, they dominate the landscape the create the amazing climate that exists on the Island and they help structure and shape the history and ecology of St Helena.

the Basil Read supply ship, the NP Glory moored in Ruperts Bays

Central Ridge towards Flagstaff

Our first summit, Cuckholds with Diana’s Peak just behind

A canon watches over Prosperous Bay

A Black Cabbage Tree with Flagstaff in the distance

Looking West towards Highpeak, South West Point and Sandy Bay

Longwood, Prosperous Bay and the Barn from Cuckholds Peak

Approaching Cuckhold’s Peak

Oliver and Charlie descend from the first summit.

Descending Cuckolds peak the path becomes more challenging, a thin track cut through the now dense cloud forest, a moist landscape where water is trapped and retained by dense carpets of moss. The floor becomes slippy and boggy, breaks in the ferns show glimpses of the steep drops either side of us, enough to make you take care of your footing, and enough to make one of our younger members of the group have something of a mild panic attack at the vertigo inducing rise to the summit of our next stop, Diana’s peak.

The central peaks of St Helena are shrouded in almost constant cloud, this moisture gives rise to the unique vegetation here. But our walk thus far had been incredibly clear, with views for mile upon mile in high definition Technicolor glory. However, true to form as we summited the highest point of St Helena the mists rolled in. The environment took on a new form, a prehistoric land. It felt entirely appropriate given our surroundings that the leaves of the ferns and gumwoods should now drip with moisture. Looking back towards Cuckhold’s peak the ridge had disappeared into the cloud, giving an air of mystery.

Oliver and Charlie on the Sumiit of Dianas PEak, Highest Summit on St Helena,

At 823m we stand higher than anyone for thousands of miles in all directions.

Towards Mt Acteaon

Diana's PEak and Mt Acteon from Cuckholds

Cloud Forest of St Helena

Black Cabbage Tree over Properous bay and the Airport, Longwood (centre) and Flagstaff (left).

We pressed on to our final peak, Actaeon, stopped for a drink and bite to eat before turning back into the cloud and descending the Northern flank of the peaks. We disappeared under the canopy, no longer walking a ridge we were now in the undergrowth of this ancient woodland. Despite being very accessible, after all our Charlie at four years old coped admirably, the otherworldly nature of the surrounding trees and the mists hanging in the air give a sense of foreboding, a feeling of remoteness as though we have been transported to a time before civilisation. It would not have surprised me one bit if a dinosaur had roared in the distance, and some giant dragon fly had flitted between the ferns.

We emerge from the cloud forest, and as we find ourselves lower on the slopes, our path ahead dissects the landscape, rich, diverse natural cloud forest above us, and thick, relentless stands of flax below. Flax was introduced in the 1870s and provided a booming trade for the Island at a time where the economy had little else to support it. But time moves on, the industry died here many many years ago, and the flax has taken over huge swaths of St Helena’s landscape. Flax is incredibly invasive, fast growing, and forms thick blankets, ensuring that sunlight cannot penetrate to the soils below such that nothing else can grow. It provides habitat for rats, mice and little else and is one of the contributing factors that resulted in almost all of St Helena’s natural forests disappearing many decades ago. However the battle is not lost. I talk with Jill Key, St Helena’s Biosecurity Officer, who first ventured to the Island some fifteen years ago. She explains that at that time the slopes and ridges of the high peaks were covered in flax to the summits, and only tiny rudimentary fragments of tree fern habitat remained. Concerted conservation and habitat restoration efforts were underway and now, fifteen years on, Jill is astonished and overjoyed at the progress that has been made. The Diana’s Peak National Park is a huge success story in habitat restoration. Tree ferns and Black Cabbage Trees now dominate the landscape here, forming their own sunlight blocking canopy and preventing the re-establishment of flax on these slopes. In turn, these provide the niche microclimates for lichens and mosses, ground level ferns and other endemic shrubs and flowers as well of course as the hundreds of insect species.

The path clearly shows the area of rich restored habitat above, and the flax below the path.

The difference is striking, the path marking the limit of the current work, below our path a uniform green of flax, a desert devoid of all biodiversity. Above the path, a stunning patchwork of colour of tones and textures, a diverse habitat of rare and wonderful plants and animals. The results here are a testament to the many people who have worked on this landscape and as we left the national park, and re-entered the fields of flax I felt hope for St Helena and other rare and endangered habitats in this world. There is a great deal of trouble in the World for its precious wild places, but if a tiny out post of the old British Empire can achieve such results, maybe all is not lost.

Nothing to Write About

Posted on March 13, 2015 by paultyso under March

So this blog entry was going to be about Jamestown, part of a series of blog entries showing the various districts of St Helena. After all, I had nothing else to write about, after my last blog, I really wasn’t sure what was coming next, sure our day-to-day life was continuing, but the Whale Sharks have left the area, my diving is complete, and I had no pretty photos to show you. What was I to do to continue to write with any regularity? So I thought a series of articles would be a nice way of filling up the pages.

That was of course, until a little time had passed, and within a week of me thinking of the Jamestown plan, and having taken some photos in readiness, that article is on hold, as I tell you about the extraordinary time the extraordinary island continues to provide.

I have been helping out a local charity, the St Helena Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, designing a new logo and working on some new campaign ideas. In return I was granted access to the World’s oldest Land Vertebrate, Jonathan, the Giant Tortoise, the photos of which featured in my last blog and an invite to the SPCA annual fund-raising event, Last Night of the Proms at Plantation house!!

We had been promised an evening of live classical music from local musicians, a few drink in the interval (the appealing bit) followed by, yes that’s right, a sing along, to a video of the last night of the proms. In all honesty, I couldn’t think of anything worse, and neither could Bev. We deliberated as to the fruits of our attendance for some time and the merit of using up a valuable babysitter token. Eventually deciding that an invite from the Governor’s wife should not be ignored I in my suit and Bev in a stunning dress featuring the customary Red White and Blue colours headed to Plantation House.

Seeing many familiar faces lightened our mood and we took our seats as the music and acts began. Some classical pieces gave way to big band, and harmony vocals and even some Eric Clapton. The talent on show was impressive to say the least, and I still cannot get over the enjoyment I gleaned from listening to a local Bishop, reading aloud an extract from a story. Had I been told that the music would be interrupted for a Bishop to read a story to me Id of put the nail in the coffin myself and stayed at home, but such was his manner and skill as an orator that he had us all laughing out loud, as much, I think, at the situation as to the story itself. After some wonderful performances the group moved to the outside marquee for refreshments. The late start had evidently led to many people having not had dinner, as shown in the speed at which the food tables were cleared, there was no holding back.

Our mood by this point was considerably lighter than when we had arrived, helped by some good music, free beer and cocktail sausages, and I was now all up for a bit of a sing-song. This mood was, it seems matched, by the considerable crowd as we all took to a verse of Swing Low Sweet Chariot. Those of you who are aware of my propensity for a spot of Karaoke will probably also be aware that I am, at this point in the proceedings, in my element, and thoroughly enjoying every minute. Sadly, we had to leave early so missed the grand finale, but as the status on my Facebook page read, it was the “most weirdly British eccentric night at Plantation House (Governors Residents)…. an evening of…..music, singing and flag waving, very surreal, and utterly brilliant. I loved it!

Bev and friends Mandy and Caroline both in full flow. What a night! Photo courtesy of SAMS Media services. https://www.facebook.com/320819601295027/photos/a.362713837105603.85060.320819601295027/866941620016153/?type=1&fref=nf

Bev and friends Mandy and Caroline both in full flow. What a night!
Photo courtesy of SAMS Media services.
SAMS Facebook

In diving news no sooner as I pass my open water, I am now half way through my advanced course. Consisting of five specific dives, I must admit this necessary stepping stone is nothing more than a money spinner for PADI. However it has led to some wonderful experiences including my first deep dive down to 28m on another ship wreck, a specialist navigation dive and, last night, my first night dive. The night adventure is the first time I have felt some serious nerves before a dive, I guess in some respect that’s why people do it and it proved to be an incredible experience. With nothing but a light of a torch, the surrounding blackness is almost blinding, with your hearing muted and tunnel vision of your spot light, a sense of complete aloneness is broken only by the flashing of lights from the other divers. Strange life forms emerge at night. Synaptid Sea Cucumbers, meter long white worms like animals, like something from the 1990 film Tremors, hold their tentacles aloft, waving them in the current, wrapping around each other in a serpentine dance. Large conch shells crawl along the sand leaving trails of slime in the sand to follow their path. Billions of dancing fairies spin and twirl hypnotically, caught in the light of the torch these planktonic organisms forming the base of the food chain for everything else, emerging at night. Huge Moray eels defend their homes and huge hedgehog like urchins make a stray hand a potential injury. Two octopuses cover themselves with rocks, picking up the jagged pumice stone and carefully placing it all around to hide their outline, their presence given away only by the stray sucker on show, and the jet stream from their siphon.

It was a magical experience made all the more special by the night sky as we broke the surface on our accent. Just as leaving the cinema in the light of day confuses the senses for a period, so does emerging from the sea to a starry sky, even if it similarly dark below. The boat trip back to the wharf was a largely silent affair, the group of eleven divers with little to say to each other. I think we sat in quiet contemplation at the shared experience, plus we were all quite knackered!

Oliver and Charlie continue to surprise and impress me with their own watery skills. Oliver and I took some father, son time and swam out to snorkel on the Papanui, the ship wreck in James Bay. Lets put this in perspective. Five months ago, not long after we arrived, Oliver would not get in the sea, he wouldn’t even jump into the pool. Now, he is wading out into surf, diving head first into the oncoming waves, swimming a good 250m out to sea and then freely snorkelling on a ship wreck in 14 meters of water. He takes place in the inter schools swimming gala today, I am very proud.

All the little dots are fish!

We took the boogie board as a rest stop. He didnt need it till we had fishing on the wreck and took a rest before heading back to shore.

At the swimming pool, I love this shot, eyes wide open under water. Oliver loves swimming under water.

Charlie too is coming on leaps and bounds and his own transformation is no less impressive. When the pool here opened up mid-November, Charlie would not let go of Bev or myself in the water, clinging on for dear life. He will now jump in the sea (albeit with armbands) and snorkel from the wharf, enjoying every moment and screaming the names of trumpet, butterfly and parrot fish as they swim by. I have no doubt that given the opportunity he too would take a trip to the Pappanui.

Charlie’s latest triumph came on Monday evening, as the boys and I joined Bev on one of her O’level, Marine Biology adult classes. This class was a practical exercise in water sampling as we and the students took to the sea on the Enchanted Isle. Technology being limited on the Island this was a rather crude affair. The only method we had for obtaining water samples at depth (to compare with surface conditions) was for yours truly to swim down as deep as he could whilst free diving, open up a bottle and fill it with water for testing at the surface. Whilst doing this I enjoyed the company of a Devil Ray, a 7ft ghost like animal, gracefully gliding by me with slow, purposeful wing beats. Shortly after we were in for another surprise.

Whilst concentrating on the depth of a sechi disc (a device for measuring turbidity) I looked up to see a whale shark not more than 3 meters away from us, its mouth out of the water and heading right for the boat. Still in my swimwear I had no hesitation in jumping right back in for my now fourth close encounter with these incredible animals. Before long, Bev and Oliver had joined me, along with some of the other students. Of course it was not long after that Charlie started asking if he could swim too. His last experience with them did not go well, lots of tears and cries of “Im blind” were my memory of that occasion. Knowing he has come a long way since then, and equipped with a new wet suit to keep the cold at bay Charlie was lowered into the water with me. It was not long before our four-year old was just yards from a 10 meter whale shark, and he clearly delighted in the occasion.

Out of nowhere came a huge shoal of 6 inch blue silver fish, scad of some sort, a thousand or more strong, heading out of the blue and towards the whale shark. Charlie and I watched as this ball of fish parted in unison around the whale shark, and closed ranks as they passed beyond its flanks, before parting once more around Charlie and I. A thousand fish swam by us, surrounded us, encased us, and as swiftly as they arrived, left us. If was a few seconds of pure joy and magic, and Charlie was right in the centre of it all.

More good news came this week with the announcement that Green Turtles have nested in the black sands at Sandy Bay. Once common on Saint Helena, these animals, like many other places around the world have been persecuted in the past for meat and their shells and in the modern ear have been seen only at sea in low numbers around St Helena. Occasional nesting attempts through the years have been hampered by shallow sands in which to dig, and the low-lying beach leading to water-logged nests on high tides. This year however there is greater confidence that they may survive. The sand sits some 7ft deeper today than in 2011 when the last nesting attempt occurred, and the beach and nest sits much higher, avoiding all but the roughest of waters. 60 days will tell us if they have been successful, I for one have my fingers firmly crossed.

This week was a big week for me personally, it was a week where I have finally realised my place and come to terms with what it is I wish to do here on St Helena. It has taken six months of a troubled mind, not wishing to make wrong decisions and conscious of doing the right thing by everyone. And it was with this in mind that I applied for a job, a fantastic job that appealed greatly. Even as I wrote my application however I was in turmoil as to whether both Bev and I working full time was the right thing to be doing, right for me maybe, but whether it was right for the boys or for Bev was less clear. My application was successful and I was invited to interview. It took till the morning of the interview, for me to finally realise that for everyone concerned, me, Bev, the boys and indeed for the employers concerned that right now, nine to five (or eight to four on St Helena) isn’t what I should be doing.

It seems that being faced with an actual choice, instead of hypothetical contemplation has forced my hand, and I feel all the better for it. I will push my photography and design business, I can enjoy the creativity and further develop my skills, and most importantly work flexibly around the family, be there to support Bev, and enjoy my time with the boys. No sooner as I had made this choice then I’m thrilled to announce that I have my next big photography job, creating images for inclusion in a new guide to the Napoleonic sites of St Helena. More than the pay, it is a wonderful feeling that my work has been admired, and that others too will enjoy it in years to come within the pages of book.

More sobering news came this week, when it emerged in the rumour mill that a young girl was taken seriously ill, with needs beyond the range of equipment and resources on St Helena. The RMS was more than four days travel away from St Helena, even with the RMS in port it could be three days to the nearest airport on Ascension, and a flight to a hospital beyond that. It is at such times that our remoteness hits home. Apparently thoughts were being drawn up to utilise a local fishing vessel to transport the girl to Ascension Island, although to me that did not seem a viable option (these were just rumours, I have no idea if this was given serious consideration), but it turns out, previously unknown to me, that nautically speaking St Helena is classed as a vessel at Sea, and as such, under UN convention passing ships within a set range are obliged to answer a distress call and attend if they are able. With this in mind an emergency pan-pan medico signal was made to passing ships within a range of 1600km. Without hesitation the MV Traveller, a Dutch container ship on its way from South Africa to the British Virgin Islands responded and proceeded to make the journey to St Helena. The owners of the ship BigLift, deserve huge praise, absorbing all the costs of their enormous detour to St Helena, and then onto Ascension Island. Thanks to the incredible work of so many incredible people on St Helena, at sea aboard the MV Traveller, at Ascension and the UK the patient arrived in Great Ormond Street Hospital just over 48 hours after the alarm was raised. She is thankfully now stable and receiving the best treatment in the World. I was not a part of this amazing story, but I am a part of St Helena an Island that takes you close to its heart and close to its people, it is truly humbling and inspiring to be here and see people come together for each other, for the sake of one little girl, who now holds the islands hopes with her.

Its a Funny Place After All

Posted on February 24, 2015 by paultyso under February

It’s a Funny Place After All.

Its been a funny couple of week aboard the Island. As usual my blog entry is late, I continue to have much to write about, but alas my time continues to be extraordinarily and unexpectedly busy. My retirement of fishing, swimming and relaxing is not going to plan!

The weather here these past two weeks has been particularly strange, lurching from 30C heat and blazing sunshine to a moderate 22C with cloudy skies and drizzly to heavy rain, and back again in the space of twenty minutes. There are two things to blame for the weather. One of course is that St Helena is a British Territory; if when it was discovered in 1502 the Portuguese had decided to keep hold of the place I’m sure we would be feeling the benefit of sustained sunshine now. The other reason the weather has taken a considerable turn for the worse is the hose pipe ban, issued by Connect St Helena which of course brought on days of rain! (the ban has now been lifted)

Despite my earlier blog suggesting I am content, I remain in some turmoil regarding what I should do here on the Island. Part of me wants a job, a defined role, filling my time and contributing to the Island, this would be the best thing for our futures beyond St Helena, adding to my CV and saving money. Part of me wishes to further explore my photography and design work, to see if, with a little promotion and some investment of time I could make more of it. And of course part of me wonders if I would regret not taking the opportunity to not work for two years, which will surely never present itself again. There is also the children and Bev to think of, what is best for them now, and in the future. I switch from one reasoning to the other as quickly as rain turns to sun. I fear in reality I will continue in this vein for some time until something presents itself that just falls into place.

Bevs work has taken off in earnest this past fortnight. I am incredibly proud of her and the difference she is now making to people. Her adults Marine Biology O’level is in full swing, has attracted a good number of Saints and Ex-pats and has been extremely well received. This past fortnight has also seen the fruits of Bev’s labour with local children having the opportunity to take their place in the water swimming alongside whale sharks. Despite our now numerous encounters with the incredible Whale Sharks, the same experiences are not commonplace for St Helenians, being for many too expensive or for others too frightening. Bevs massive effort has seen young Saints witness first hand some of the amazing wildlife upon their doorsteps. We cannot expect future generations to care for our Oceans and the wonders therein if they do not have the opportunity to see them for themselves, and Bev has provided that.

Unfortunately however the next strange happening is the arrival of rough seas, common place in February but this year largely absent, until now. This has meant that some of the trips have had to be cancelled much to the disappointment of everyone concerned. The photos below speak for themselves as to why it has not been possible to take children onto the high seas. The waters do make for a fantastic exhilarating experience from the shore however, watching huge rolling waves some up to 15ft high pounding the breakwater in James Bay. Just watching them was a little over whelming for our sensitive Oliver who was nervous at the sight of them, Charlie however loved them, avoiding the splashes and screaming with delight, until of course the inevitable happened and he got wet, followed shortly by tears and tantrums and screams of delight replaced with cries of wishing to go home!

The relentless pounding of the sea helps to remind oneself of our situation, this tiny spot in a massive and powerful Ocean, which has been slowly grinding down the shorelines of this Island for millennia, returning it to rubble and the sea floor from whence it came. The past couple of weeks have also reminded us of our isolations from our family and loved ones, as illness and loss has sadly affected our families back home. There are times when travelling is hard, you have to sacrifice much to enjoy these experiences and whilst given the option I would do it again, it is hard to be so far away at times of need. It is particularly hard to know that you cannot be there to offer comfort, a shoulder to cry on and to support people, especially those people who have done so much to support us. You know who you are, we think of you always, we miss you and wish we could do more.

Life is also strange on St Helena in that I am finding I miss football games, and do not care! I spend my weekend doing things other than fretting about the form of Sterling, and whether Sturridge can get back to his best following a long lay-off. I still watch when I can and follow closely of course, and no doubt when I return home I will be as fanatical as ever, but I missed two games the past three weekends, and couldn’t give a dam! There are more rewarding things to be had and I shall continue to have them. One, less than rewarding afternoon however was spent plying my wares to the latest cruise ship to arrive. Feeling as though I had missed a trick last time a cruise ship, the MV Voyager was in town, I wanted to ensure I was there, at the market to sell my photos to wealthy and unsuspecting cruisers.

My sale did not go to plan, it rained relentlessly for the seven or so hours that I sat in the parade in Jamestown, and I watched as passenger after passenger passed by my stall, preferring instead a key ring, mug, or rather to by pass the stalls all together to hurry back to the shelter of the ship. I sold four photos in total, three of which went to Islanders, and at a loss of £160 for the day my first attempt at selling my photos was not a great success, and I have to admit was a blow to the ego. Some would say a dent in my ego would not be a bad thing, although much has already occurred on St Helena to suppress any ego I may of left the UK with.

MV Voyager in James Bay

Thankfully, before the waves took a significant upturn, the Island was able to host its annual Marine Awareness week. Organised by the Marine sector of the Environment Natural Recourses division this week of activities sees hundreds pf school children and adults engaged in education and conservation and all things fishy. It was one of my most enjoyable weeks on the Island as I stepped back into my comfort zone and set up a successful Marine Aquarium for the public to enjoy amd led several school session in touch pool and other education activities. I felt right at home and even enjoyed the inevitable leaking pipework and other unexpected aquarium eventualities. For my friends and colleagues in the aquarium world back home, remember, if you are ever setting up an aquarium on a volcanic Island, the sand it turns out is magnetic, and will easily stick to each and every pump impeller in the vicinity. It will require a significant time investment to remove fine, wet magnetic sand from the surfaces.

Jumping from great heights into the Sea is a common past time for local kids.

Dogs joined in the action.

Even a solitary wind surfer.

The grand finally of Marine Awareness week saw several hundred people take to the Wharf to enjoy water sports, swimming and lots of other water based fun.

I have also become more accident prone in St Helena, and have had more injuries here in a few months than in several previous years. Now my Mum will no doubt tell you that I have always been accident prone, but then of course she would be mistaking me for my brother. But this week, in an entirely avoidable act of stupidity, whilst cutting the rind of some bacon I sliced through my finger, cutting deep into the side and cutting part of the nerves inside. Much blood, and a degree of panic ensured, all under the oblivious eyes of Charlie, whilst I ran round contemplating my best course of action to stop the blood, clean the floor, take care of Charlie and finish the Pilau (pronounced Plo) I was making. I did in the end achieve all four and after a trip to the Hospital the following morning had I confirmed that I had indeed severed my nerve hence the loss of feeling down one side of my finger, but I should be reassured that it would, in all likelihood, heal with no lasting effects. I have concluded that if indeed my finger remains numb in parts this would not be the end of the world as I remain able to type my blog at sufficient speed.

And finally, in sporting news Charlie is now swimming without armbands and Oliver is swimming a full 33m length of the pool and has been selected to compete in the Islands swimming Gala. We are so very proud of them both and the change is remarkable.

The Tyson tongue of concentration!

Bev couldn’t help herself in the Mums race, she is so competitive!

Charlie also took part in his first sports day. For nursery children only, the morning was more chaos than sports, but it was none the less great fun. With humorous and able commentary from her Ladyship Christine it was strange to say the least to hear the comedic tones of a scouser blasting across a playing field in the centre of an Island in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, but then it’s a funny place after all.

Jonathan, a Boer War prisoner, and a guard, around 1900

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-26543021

Seychelles giant tortoises can weigh up to 300kg (660 lbs) and grow to be 1.3m (4 ft) long

Had the privileged of a photo shoot with the Worlds Oldest land vertebrate. Jonathan suspected to be over 182 years old.

Jonathan loves his greens

And is partial to an apricot too.

Messy eater, he also burps a lot!

I also had the privilege of a photo-shoot with Jonathan, the oldest land vertebrate on the plant at over 182 years old!

Lots Wife Ponds

Posted on February 12, 2015 by paultyso under February

Lot, is a huge pillar of rock, shining silver and emerging like Excalibur from the surrounding brown earth. Lots wife, is the nearby wife of Lot, a smaller pillar, eroded at the base such that its top appears as though it could topple at any moment. The ponds are the sheltered natural swimming pools that have formed on the wave cut platforms below Lots Wife, protected from the wild Atlantic ocean by huge walls, a seam of hard wearing rock now forming an impenetrable barrier to the relentless waves. Lots Wife Ponds were also the destination for Bev and I, on our first twenty four hours on our own, without the children, for over six months.

Good friends and regular babysitters Suzanne and Mike have become something of life saver to us, looking after our boys on a regular basis when we both dive or, in this case when we need to find some time for us, to remember that we are a couple, in love and not just here as servants to the needs of our children, (or employers). And so in quintessential Tyson style instead of resting, relaxing or some romance, Bev and I took to a 9km round trip across rugged terrain in 28C heat to find the ponds, a much talked about beauty spot of the Island.

The walk to Lots Wife ponds features in the post box walks, a series of tourist trails across the Island, graded for their difficulty in both effort and technical difficulty. Having tried some low grade walks with the boys, Lots Wife Ponds sits at the upper end of the scale, with a grade of 6/10 for effort, and 8/10 for technical difficulty. And such we set out, across the wide flat dry river bed of broad gut and up the zig zagging path of and old cart road across the steep sided scree slopes beyond. Broad Gut, the Gates of Chaos, Frightus Rock and other aptly named peaks, ridges, valleys and gorges form the Sandy Bay National Park, an area that inspires awe as the Mars like landscape, scarred into volcanic rocks rises in reds, oranges and purples to the lush green slopes of High and Diana Peaks and the central ridge. Formed during volcanic eruptions some 14 million years ago this now dry and barren surface was once green with trees and plants found no-where else on earth. The arrival of goats on the Island in the late 1500s led to severe deforestation and hundreds of years of rain and driving Atlantic winds have scoured sharp ridges like daggers across the unprotected rock, forming a Lord of the Rings landscape.

Start of the walk up from Broad Gut

Our route, upwards!

The path is well marked from the feet of other intrepid explorers, and of countless years of fishermen and donkeys and leads us upward, winding across steep valley sides ever on to a ridge we can see in the distance. As other parents will know, when you have children and have the opportunity to relieve yourselves of them for a day you have to take your chances, and as such we pressed on in the less than ideal conditions. Dry and extremely hot, the winds blowing up from the blue waves below us provided welcome rest bite from the burning afternoon tropical sun. As our car disappeared into the distance and the blue waters of Sandy Bay became obscured by rocks of red and orange we finally arrived at our highest point, a ridge providing extraordinary views of Broad Gut behind and the rocky cliffs of Asses Ears, Gorrila’s Head, Man o’War Roost and of course Lots Wife loomed high above us.

Gorilla’s Head is the square shaped rock on the right hand side, with one of the Asses Ears above it

Descending from the ridge we encountered our first “technical” section, a narrow, loose path with a steep drop to our left. Although not overtly daunting, the presence of a fixed rope at this point is welcoming, reassuring to know that we are on the right track, and that the reportedly difficult final section may be equally well protected. As we descended, clear white lines of guano could be seen on the finger ridges that slope off from the main cliff side peaks. Sitting below the ridge where Bev and I had the great pleasure of helping to tag and record Booby nests some months before, we found ourselves on the lower ridges, where the secondary team had worked that day. We pass by a nest and chick now almost fledged and a far cry from the eggs and newly hatched fluffy grey chicks we had encountered back in October. By this time of the day booby’s can be seen returning to their nests, bringing food to hungry chicks from a day’s foraging. These striking white birds fly like a red arrows display team in acrobatic lines to various white target points marked upon the red rocks.

Masked Booby and chick,

Bev looks on at the chick and its parent.

We arrive at our next way point, an arrow marking the way to, “Lots Wife Ponds” in stones on the ground. Curiously, pointing in the opposite direction we find marked the words, “Fizzled me”. Although curious and with a strong desire to be fizzled, we continue our path to Lots Wife Ponds. Further on and still some 50m above sea level we came to the curious white sands of a former beach, apparently blown up the valley gulley’s and deposited up the slope. A beach that over millennia had become compressed to form rock, sandstone, was now being eroded and weathered back to whence it came and into a beach. After fifty minutes of walking, we reach the post box, a white tube containing a visitors note book and a stamp to mark our trail book as proof that we had completed the walk.

At this stage we were a little underwhelmed by the technical difficulty of the walk. Having spent many good times amongst the infamous ice covered ridges of Crib Goch in Snowdon, I am perhaps not an average walker, but in comparison to our other low grade walks I was still expecting something more of a challenge from our grade 8’er. Perhaps the “optional extra” beyond the post box and down to the ponds themselves would provide the challenge. Alas we would remain disappointed, undoubtedly a bit of a nervous scramble under normal conditions, the last two steep descents are provided the safety of strong and well placed ropes giving secure hand holds to counter any loose footsteps.

And so it was we reached our destination, Lots Wife Ponds. A huge pillar of rock greeted us to our left, the gap between it and the cliff face providing views of an elevated and tranquil pool. To our right, waves surged into a gully, racing up and increasing in size before spilling over into a second, lower, and somewhat turbulent pool. The sounds of huge waves bellowed against the rock wall that had now become apparent at the edge of this rocky platform, holding back the Atlantic on one side, and holding in our tranquil swimming pools on the other.

The more choppy of the two ponds. The rock wall which holds back the Atlantic can be seen on the left of the image, but the wall has been breached on the right.

Water surges up the gulley through the gaps in the natural barriers.

Knowing we were short on time we stripped to our swimwear and waded into the most still of the two waters. The water appeared cloudy, and green, our became feet sore with sharp snail shells under foot was we crossed the rocks to reach the waters. Was this the beauty we had been promised? As I moved into the water the sandpaper rocks gave way to soft velvety algae covered slopes, rounded by years of waves splashing ashore and softened by a thick layer of cushion soft seaweed. The water was warm, incredibly warm, like walking into a bath. I could see fish further out, but wondered how they could be surviving in such unusually hot conditions, easily 35C plus. As I moved further into the pool the answer became apparent as my feet suddenly felt a severe chill, enough to make an involuntary squeal come out of me. The hot sun beating down on the pool had created a thermocline, a sharp transition from hot, saline water above to cooler water below. Donning my mask I dived out and down, across to the deeper part of the pool and down through the hazy mirage of the thermocline and into the cool, clear waters below. Reversing the previous experience, my feet now warm and head cold, I delighted like a small child in this amazing experience with fish swimming all around me, trapped to the bottom of their pool by the warm waters above them.

Having not seen a single soul on our entire journey, and feeling secure that we would not be disturbed, I longed to remove all my clothes and enjoy the freedom of skinny dipping in our own slice of paradise. Nerves and British restraint however got the better of me, and the five finger fish, parrot fish and surgeon fish were all saved any embarrassment, and starved of a potential meal. We moved to the second, lower and cooler pool, bouncing up and down with the waves that crossed the waters as each new breach from the Atlantic squeezed its way through a gap in the wall in the distance. In no danger we swam amongst the fish and revelled in the pools and gullies.

With time running short we dried off, regrettably having to leave our little Eden behind. But not before I ventured onto the rock wall to witness the Atlantic below. Very aware of the spray shooting upwards some 20ft and the deep, bellowing of air being trapped and squeezed upon this natural barrier I cautiously climbed up the wall and poked my head up above the parapet. Gaining in confidence I could see the concave wall, worn away at its base and now forming the curve so commonly seen in man-made breakwaters. Waves hitting the base of the wall were deflected in a huge curve back out to sea. The power was extraordinary, 15ft waves booming and shaking, punching at the wall and then sucking back, as if trying to pull the wall down, angry, determined and relentless, and yet the unyielding wall stood firm, protecting Bev and I and stopping the waves from cutting down yet more of St Helena’s cliffs.

We had to leave, we packed our bags and once more started to climb the steep sides of St Helena’s Southern Cliffs. The sun was setting, lights streamed through gaps in the rocks, creating striations of black and orange. The green slopes on the central ridge came into view in the distance, like an oil painting of colour, the greens of the peaks framed by deep blue above and orange, purples and reds of Sandy Bay amphitheatre below.

Steep sides erroded valleys of Sandy Bay National Park

Lots Wife re-emerges on our return walk.

Steep sides erroded valleys of Sandy Bay National Park

The sun streams between the gap of the twim peaks of Asses Ears

Dianas and Cucolds Peaks with Sandy Bay below.

As were traced our footsteps I knew I had to return, I needed to witness the light streaming up Sandy bay and waking up this extraordinary Island at Sun Rise. I shall return, I shall return with my camera and, at 5am, perhaps without my swimwear

Contented

Posted on February 7, 2015 by paultyso under February

It has taken longer than I expected, but I find myself contented in my new life. My retirement has turned out to be the busiest retirement one could imagine, an evening in with no work to complete has become something of a rarity as I juggle my photography work including projects for local schools, a maternity shoot, photography course and the work for the tourist office, with exciting projects for the National Trust, what I believe is my improved and balanced life with the children and of course diving and the odd encounter with forty foot fish, things really are hectic. But I finally feel as though I have a place on the Island and have found the right balance. Ive always needed to be busy, to be juggling many balls and I am certainly doing that now.

A sit down heart to heart with my ever incredible wife a few weeks ago, has helped to put my feelings of myself as a father into perspective, and coupled with the arrival of other meaningful work on the Island I feel my outlook of the boys and relationship with them has improved greatly, I am almost beginning to believe that they quite enjoy spending time with me!

Sadly, as I become more content, Oliver has become unsettled in school, friendships are presenting challenges and have the status “its complicated”. He is clearly upset at times and this has impacted his behaviour at home. The old me would of dealt with his behaviour with a stern telling off, but I am trying to offer support and understanding and we have come up with plans to help him re-settle, namely to invite his friends round to play as often as possible to help re-cement their relationships. It has taken me aback that Oliver has fell into problems at school, although I suspect it wont last long, and neither will it be the last period of turmoil with our Oliver.

Despite this blip in school I have no doubt that the boys are happy here. As Bev and I have learnt to dive, so have the boys learnt to snorkel, and even Charlie, at four years old has his set of fins, mask and snorkel. We spend many afternoons at the swimming pool, enjoying the open air and sunshine. Charlie, now swims round to his hearts content, jumping frpm the diving board with unreserved joy. Oliver is becoming more and more competent, and is now able to swim a full 30m length of the pool, making his parents very proud. The transformation in both of them in a few short weeks is incredible.

The Tyson’s have been dominating the local media here on St Helena, myself taking part in a twenty minute interview on photography and the courses I have been running, and Bev, in readiness for Marine awareness week has been talking about her new adult classes O’level in Marine Biology. Marine awareness week is an annual event held in St Helana to raise awareness for the Islanders of the fantastic and important world that surrounds and dominates the pulse of life on St Helena. For my part I am back within my comfort zone having set up an aquarium, now stocked with numerous endemic species, and next week delivering education sessions to local school children. The challenges of finding new roles in St Helena has been great, but I must admit it is lovely to be in and around an aquarium again and back in my world, covered in water and playing with pipework. For any of my aquarium friends out there, if you ever out together an aquarium on a volcanic Island, bare in mind the sand is magnetic and will find its way onto all your pump impellers!

This week I did my first photoshoot, with a person, an actual person, and not just a person but a pregnant person, my first ever photo shoot was a maternity one. Id like to say Im not sure who was more nervous, but Im fairly sure the answer was me. With sweat beading on my brow I was very aware of myself! But the client and I settled into things and despite a less than ideal setting and lighting I am on my way to producing some good quality images.

Saturday was one of yet another, most incredible days of my life. It started with my second dive since qualifying, a trip out with established divers to a natural rock formation known as Billy Maze. I found myself nervous for the first time whilst diving, not as a result of the dive, but as a result of the company, perfectly lovely people, but experienced, very competent divers. How would I compare, would I run out of air and ruin everyone’s dive, will I be welcomed into this little group. As it was I needn’t of worried, it was a fantastic experience with fantastic people, all of whom could vividly remember being in my position, and all of whom were encouraging and supportive. The dive took me a full ten meters deeper than I had been before as I followed our guide through a twist of rock channels with stunning fish a plenty and even a swim with a Hawksbill Turtle.

That afternoon we went on our next Whale Shark trip. A group organised by Bev, of colleagues from Prince Andrew School ,it was a lovely opportunity to get to know, not just Bevs work mates, but some Saint families and spend time in their company. Setting off from the wharf under grey skies and a sizeable swell it did not look good for Shark spotting. The conditions and dark looking seas had put Oliver off, and Charlie was already falling asleep. It was a relief therefore when I spotted the tell tale shadow of a Whale Shark under the waves and, after shouting our captain to make an about turn the first group were soon in the water. Bev jumped in along with other parents and their children and it was with great disappointment to myself that they soon returned to the boat having watched the shark disappear into the depths. As I sat brooding like child on his brothers birthday, I was bitterly disappointed and jealous that I missed out.

With everyone back on board, we continued on, in constant communication with other boats on the water in the hope of finding another shark. With the weather deteriorating, and, by this point many people, including Oliver feeling seasick, I looked around the boat at children laid out upon their parents laps, tired and unwell and felt sure the best course of action would be to cut our losses and head home. However, as is normal for the boat operators here, their determination to deliver a great experience meant that we continued our quest to find another animal. After what felt like an age we received a call from another boat and quickly headed off in the direction of another Whale Shark. Anthony, skipper, dive tutor and general water man told me to get kitted up, it was a big one. I felt a surge of excitement and anticipation and sure enough, before long we were just feet away from a truly huge animal. Almost before the boat had even stopped I was in the water, and swimming as hard as I could alongside a stunning, 12m long (40ft) male shark, cruising at speed with giant sweeps of its tail. With go-pro in one hand I swam as hard as I could but ultimately I am no match for a 12 foot fish and eventually he disappeared ahead of me, his huge dorsal fin still visible through the waves. Turning around I found myself not only a long way from the other swimmers, but a long way from the boat. I sat steady and waited for the inevitable pick up, knowing it is quicker for them to come to me.

A Huge, 12m male whales shark that I swam with!

A Huge, 12m male Whale Shark that I swam with!

Back aboard it was not long until we had caught up with the whale shark, and soon enough the next group were in the water. With Charlie still asleep, and Oliver still unwell, I stayed aboard as Bev jumped in for her second swim. The whale shark by now had become curious about us, and instead of swimming off in the distance was turning and swimming around the boat, the swimmers were so close to this magnificent animal and it was with great pleasure that one of our good friend Jon, came leaping back onto the boat barely able to catch a breath shouting, “it bumped into me, it bumped into me!!!!” like an excited and nervous school child. I was equally pleased as Jons departure from the water gave me the opportunity to get back in, as the whale shark approached the back of the boat I lowered myself into the water just feet from the 5ft mouth of this goliath. Swimming within feet of me I could not contain my joy. I spent a further 20 minutes swimming with this animal, 40ft of magnificent, stunning animal, peacefully and gracefully swimming though the waves, a true privilege to spend time in its presence. Another in what is becoming a long list of unforgettable moments on St Helena.

Good friend Andy Day provides some perspective on this enormous animal!

Monday evening saw another dive, and Bevs first since qualifying. Another trip to the SS Papanui saw unfathomable numbers of fish. So many Butterfly fish that it is, without exaggeration, difficult to estimate how many hundreds of thousands, or perhaps millions of fish that we saw that day. Another Hawksbill Turtle just topped off a magical 40 minutes under the sea.

On Tuesday I had the great pleasure and honour to be invited for lunch with at the home of Michel Dancoisne-Martineau, French consul on the Island and in charge of the Napoleonic sites on St Helena. Michel’s home has been built based on original plans for a home that was never built for Napoleon himself, and I have to say it was simply exquisite. Splendour and elegance coupled with style and intrigue and no shortage of incredible art work by Michel himself. Our lunch was the finest food I have eaten in months, with rare roast beef, smoked salmon, fine cheese and fine wine it was a true indulgence. With great company and the chance to meet Pascal Sean Laparliere, a great promoter of my photography in Paris I had a wonderful afternoon. Perhaps the greatest pleasure for me was the invite itself. An invite because someone wanted my company, not as a plus one, or because of a work function, nor because my camera was wanted, but because I was.

I am finding my place on this little Island, I am finding my relationship with Oliver and Charlie, I am finding friends and I am finding a role (well many actually), I am finding contentment, and it feels wonderful.

Praying Mantis we found in our lounge

Gecko, great for eating mosquitoes!

Five Months On

Posted on January 27, 2015 by paultyso under January

I sit, five months on from our arrival on St Helena and I still have to pinch myself that we are here. We have just enjoyed a family dinner, Tuna steak and fresh salad, on the veranda as we watch the sun go down over the great expanse of ocean before us. The sky becomes a beautiful gradient of colour from deep orange to purple and through to dark blue, a solitary star we know to be Venus shines down on us. It happens less often nowadays, but I still have regular moments of disbelief. For such a long time, both Bev and I had an itch, a need or longing to do something else, live somewhere different and experience new things. After applying for jobs in the US, and looking at options elsewhere in this world, it is here, on this tiny remote Island that we have found our adventure.

Returning inside, Oliver sits with Mum at the table completing the homework that is due in tomorrow, finishing at the last minute just like his Dad used to do! Charlie, wanting to be involved is sat with them, colouring. I look over and have another moment of disbelief, not only am I living in St Helena, but I’m a Dad, how on earth did that happen? I know the technicalities, but I never thought I would be, and yes Oliver is six, I’m not saying I have only just realised I have children, believe me they let me know minute by minute and have done since they arrived. But, like my moment of how did we arrive on St Helena, I still have the occasional, how did I arrive here in life, a Dad, with two boys whom I’m responsible for. I feel no different in myself to when I was at university and yet I have these two little people, complete and individual in every way, lives in my hands to guide and direct. I hope I do and can do them justice.

Moving on from the un-pleasantries of my last blog life continues as per normal on St Helena. When I say as per normal, life on St Helena is never normal. It of course involves passing your open water diving qualification, snorkelling in the bay and at Lemon Valley, photographing the brightest starriest sky I have thus far ever witnessed, birthday parties,hunting for treasure, Sundowners at Donny’s and delivering my first photography course with customers including the acting Governor of the Island. All normal life on this tiny spec in the middle of the Ocean.

Bev has of course returned to teaching with the new school term in full flow. This new term however has at last seen Bev start her Marine Biology work. Not quite delivering, but planning and preparing, speaking to local fishermen and boat operators and planning for an adult learning taster session. Although her work load is still as high as ever, at least now Bev can start the job she was brought here to do thanks to the arrival of a new Chemistry teacher to further strengthen the science department.

Charlie has turned four, four years old! Like many things I can hardly believe it. His birthday, landing on a school day was a quiet affair, opening some presents before school was unavoidable as he headed off with number four badge on his shirt I think looking forward to his day in school awaiting the customary attention and singing from teachers and class mate. Saturday saw his main party. After much deliberation we, (we as in Bev, Charlie and I) decided that the best place for his first Island party would be at Belinda’s (his child minder) which gives me great opportunity to showcase the best child-minder venues in the World. Stunning views and fantastic play for little ones with outdoor space, toys, games and fun galore. In normal style the party went play, eat, party games, eat, play, eat then home! One of the highlights of the afternoon was the cake, a magnificent Pirate cake fit for any young rapscallion and beautifully crafted by our talented friend Julie David (thank you Julie), the cake not only looked amazing but tasted brilliant as the ring of chocolate around my mouth as I type is testament!

Wonderful to see Charlie with all his Saint friends

What a cake, thank you Julie. x

Oliver taking a moment with a new hat!

Charlie does not want to pass the parcel anywhere!

Love this photo, smiles all round.

View from Sunflowers over Jamestown and Rupert Valley

The Friday evening prior had seen the real start of Charlie’s birthday, our normal evening at Donny’s was interrupted by screaming children and Charlie delightfully informing us that he had found a treasure map! Carefully planted by good friends Lucy and Andy and their boys, Charlie had found a treasure map inside a bottle that had “washed up” on the rocks at the wharf. With a full weekend the treasure hunting itself would have to wait until Sunday afternoon when we enlisted the help of local guides, Toby and Lawrence, fourteen and eleven to guide us around Plantation wood following the map until we eventually stumbled across “X marks the spot” and a an arrow leading to a tree house. Following the arrow we came across a fortress in the trees heavily guarded and protected by a series of traps and pitfalls. Spotting the potentially dangerous trip wire, Lawrence released one of the traps and to our complete astonishment and surprise a heavy bucket fell to the ground, the treasure had been found. The inflatable boat and oddly for the period an inflatable dinosaur had survived well for over a hundred years in that tree house, and I’m sure the museum will be keen to hear the story of how Charlie battled through thick forest and booby traps to find his treasure. Thank you to the Days for giving Charlie a really wonderful adventure it was fantastic fun.

x marks the spot, Charlie and his treasure map.

I continue to be extremely busy, despite my retirement. New projects for the National Trust have allowed me to feel more at home and involved, and I have started to deliver my photography courses, which, so far have been well received. I have on going works for the Tourist office and finally have business cards printed! Life is undoubtedly very full on St Helena, and when not working we are generally enjoying the outdoors. And so it was that, having now passed my Open Water Diving qualification that I went on my first dive without having to take off my mask, prove my neutral buoyancy, or tow a tired diver! It was in fact a very strange feeling, just being permitted to swim and enjoy the sites, not having a pre-determined set of instructions and to just, swim around at leisure. Strange, but wonderful, back on the Papanui and with freedom to explore.

With an outburst of joy and pride when breaking the surface Bev also passed her open water diving last week. At one stage, before setting foot in the water Bev was genuinely unsure as to whether she would indeed complete the course, but in true determined and stubborn style refused to be beaten by her anxiety and took each step as it came. I can’t wait now to share new experiences together and start to discover a new part of St Helena under the waves. It seemed even more fitting that Bev should pass her open water on her birthday and it was a fitting celebration of both her birthday and passing the course that with a large group of our new friends we enjoyed a meal at Tasty bites and a few celebratory drinks.

With the weather now pretty much consistently wonderful it seems the perfect time to have passed our open water diving. Where else in the world can you finish work at 4pm and be diving on a wreck by 5pm, and for less than £20. With the improved weather, water has become a very prominent place of leisure, with three or four trips to the swimming pool a week making our boys more and more competent in the water and another trip to Lemon valley providing more snorkelling and, on this occasion the chance for some fun in the waves as they crashed up on the beach to the delight of jumping children, and indeed adults alike.

Finally got a go pro. Getting to grips with the settings but a shot of Oliver snorkelling at Lemon Valley

Oliver and the other kids on the speed boat!

And so another month has passed by, an ever present in the back of our minds is just how quick time is passing on St Helena. Our hectic and wonderfully full lives here have the consequence of ensuring days, weeks and months pass quickly by. With some new friends already having been and gone, and some very good friends shortly to leave too, one is always aware of the transient nature of our time here, we will continue to ensure we fill every second of it.

Angry and Saddened

Posted on January 20, 2015 by paultyso under January

I have been sat pondering the wisdom of my commenting tonight, I feel I should speak out given that I am angry and saddened by the portrayal of this lovely Island and its people, but on the other hand wonder if I should keep my council on what is after all a political issue, and one who’s history and complexity goes far beyond my experience on the Island. Given that I now have a large readership I feel though that I should try to right a few wrongs which I believe have been made.

Some of you will no doubt be thinking “what on earth is he talking about” and so I reluctantly refer you to the very recent article in the Daily Telegraph (both print and online) reporting on the sad story of child abuse on St Helena. I will not provide the link to said article as I don’t wish to be promoting its readership directly through my own blog, but I have no doubt it will be easy enough to find.

Before coming to the Island we have been made aware of a now infamous report on child abuse on St Helena and its systematic covering up by the government for a number of years. I do not wish to pass comment on this issue particularly, suffice to say that clearly terrible mistakes and choices were made, the depth of which I do not know. I for example do not have any knowledge with regards to St Helena government and its actions prior to August 2014. I can tell you that since our arrival Child Protection has clearly been at the top of the agenda for St Helena Government with numerous new jobs in the sector, a new government department and new buildings.

I cannot pass comment as to what happened in the past when the Lucy Faithful report was being written, and a quick search on line can fill you in as to what was contained within that report. What I can pass comment on is my opinion of wider systematic problems. Problems of a system of governance that means that none of the people implemented in that report, nor indeed any expatriate government worker in post at the time of said report its period of investigation and period of alleged abuse and cover up, is here now. The St Helena Government operate on short term contracts, which, is in my humble opinion a huge problem with the overall system and political distrust that exists on this Island, but that is a conversation for another day.

So instead of passing comment on the government, the political system or other things in this world that I have little knowledge of, I wish to comment on the article in question, the things I know enough about, and why I sit here now feeling sad for the many good people of St Helena. I do not wish to contest the “facts” within his story, the court cases and convictions quoted, the numbers of cases or of prisoners, I have no doubt they are correct, but the damaging and inflammatory style of writing is unnecessary and largely skewed, twisted and unrepresentative of the people here. Should author Tom Rowley actually lived here for any period he may of known this, or indeed had he spoken and referenced a wide range of people, but of course a balanced representation, like the truth, does not always sell papers. I wish also to make it clear that I am not trying to deny wrong doings, nor would I condemn any such criminality or cover up thereof if this were the case, simply that I do not know and would therefore concentrate on what I do know.

In essence my great sadness is the overall picture that has been painted of the Island and its people, one of sexual predation and of a dirty seedy place of the night, all of which could not be further from the truth. Now I am not trying to deny that wrongs were done in the past, and neither do I know whether wrongs continue now, but I do know that this article does not reflect St Helena and its people today, in 2015 at the start of a hopefully bright new era.

To quote from the article

“They call themselves Saints…….. Of course, some deserve the tag more than others”.

Or alternatively that most are deserving of the tag in my opinion, and a small, very small few may not. Indeed, whilst the Telegraph chooses to concentrate on the proportion of abuse cases it neglects to tell you that St Helena also has one of the highest proportions of people honoured in the Queen’s birthday honours list for services to the community. I have no comment as to the rights or wrongs of such a list and have no doubt this fact is open to cries of corruption, but none the less a high number of Saints must be deserving of being on the list, and in far greater proportions than elsewhere in the British Empire (the suns still never sets on the Empire you know). “What has that got to do with child abuse” I hear you ask. Nothing I agree, but my issue on this article is the unbalanced way that the local people here, many of which Im pleased to say are now friends, have been portrayed and I hope to redress the balance.

“Beneath the treasure map names, daily life can be rather less charming. “People think it’s just some English village in the South Atlantic,” says one regular visitor. “Actually, it’s more like a suburban estate, with all the problems that come with that”.

No one has claimed there is a fairy tale here; its names have history attached to them. Should the quaint names of Dorset, England for example, mean that there is some fairy tale going on and that normal everyday problems of working life are somehow to be used against the people of a village because its name happens to be quaint. And if anyone believes that an Island, in the middle of the Atlantic, in the tropical southern hemisphere is “just some English village in the South Atlantic” they need to re-look at England!

“The island has always been a place of outcasts,”

Surely a modern journalist should do better than this. Using Napoleons exile or that of Boer prisoners as a yard stick to measure its people by is just cheap. The Island was of course a place where the British empire sent its best men to conquer an defend, a place where the British spent uncountable sums of money to place people from all over the world here, to defend, work and manage the Island in its heyday,

“In HMP Jamestown, seven out of 11 prisoners are paedophiles”

To me, this could just as easily read, the authorities are now doing their best to correct this situation, 7 out of 11 prisoners on the Island are being held for crimes of abuse. I do not know if the authorities are doing their best, but simply point out that this comment from Tom is not necessarily a negative as he suggests and can be construed either way.

“And nobody believes all the culprits have been caught. “I suspect there are still quite a few skeletons in the cupboard,” says Nick Thorpe, an entrepreneur and chairman of the heritage society. “There are a lot of people looking into it.”

One person does not represent everybody, nor nobody and therefore cannot be used to claim nobody believes all the culprits are caught, in fact neither Bev nor I were interviewed by Mr Rowley, so that’s at least two people that he cannot use in this statement. Although he may or may not be right, this is conjecture, not factual reporting. And if there are a lot of people looking into it again this would suggest that great efforts are being made to improve the situation.

“I spent a fortnight on St Helena, speaking with 51 locals – more than one percent of the population of 4,500”

Despite his grand claims of 1% of the population, lets be frank 51 people is not a lot, its even less on this Island where one would normally chat with at least 20 or 30 people a day just passing in the street and certainly not enough to say that nobody believes in something. A fortnight is such little time on St Helena, but clearly not enough to cast a picture of a place and its people.

Again I do not know nor wish to comment on what if any abuse is commonplace or apparently accepted at the moment, quite simply I do not know but I’d like to question and put some of Mr Rowley’s selected quotes in context

“a middle-aged woman is talking about rape. People didn’t call it that when she was a child,”

“Lolly Young, 43, a former deputy head of the high school, recalls her school years”

“Men thought they could have any girl, touch any girl and nothing was ever said about it,”

Each of these and all of the other direct quotes from victims, are talking about events that occurred at least 25 or more years ago and this should be put into context. Unlike the UK, 25 years ago St Helena had no internet, no TV channels, and even telephones had only just arrived, it was a British territory in name only. One has to look at attitudes towards women in many parts of the world that still blatantly, and wrongly of course, exist today to understand that St Helena must have been a very different place 25 years ago. To his credit Tom Rowley hints at this himself.

“Television only arrived on the island in 1995, and several Saints say they knew little of outside norms until then. “There was no reference point whatsoever,” says one. “It was never discussed, it was just something that was expected to happen.”

“With no mobile phones and little internet access, the island has grown seemingly more remote as the world has converged.”

This again presents a very skewed vision of the Island. St Helena has seen more change and development in the last twenty years than almost anywhere on earth. Just 20 years ago donkeys were still the main way of moving goods around the Island, telecommunications didn’t exist, now I sit talking to you through my blog, online, and skype my family thousands of miles away. People drive round in modern four by fours and at weekends can enjoy jet skiing.

At the risk of becoming repetitive I will move on to the part of the article which I believe is most inaccurate and in the context of encouraging tourism the most damaging for the Island. It also paints an untrue picture, and is in fact, the part I know most about.

“Friday night in Donny’s bar by the seafront. As I sip my beer, a group of women, some well into middle age, are playing a rather different version of musical chairs. The music is the same; the “chairs” are five men, thrusting their bottoms in the air.

When the music stops, each woman dashes to straddle the nearest man, whooping and slapping his bottom with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“That’s the governor’s driver,” observes one drinker of the most eager participant.

It’s 6pm”

What Tom neglects to tell anyone is that the night in question was ladies night, a special one off where ladies were invited to let their hair down and be a little naughty, even the middle aged ones are allowed fun you know Tom. Show me a hen do, or ladies night in the UK that does not get a little saucy. It sounds as though the reality is that Mr Rowley would quite liked to of been more involved, or at least that it may of done him some good to be. The governors driver referred to here is one of several drivers to my knowledge, and presumably must be a paedophile, in fact given that she was in a bar at night having fun, she should be arrested immediately!

And finally, its 6pm, yes I have no doubt it was, because on St Helena the bar closes at midnight, there is no 24hour drinking, no fights at the taxi rank at 3am, much to my disappointment it is not even possible to buy a late night doner kebab!! People enjoy a drink at Donny’s for Sundowners, i.e at sunset, an open air, waterfront bar with stunning views of the sun which sets at, funnily enough 6.30pm.

On any other Friday night, had Mr Rowley bothered to check, he would of found me, and my family sat at Donny’s at 6pm, with a quiet pop style music in the background, where families of Ex-pats and Saints alike enjoy an early evening drink. He would of found a true family holiday type atmosphere, one of the only places in the World I have been to where Bev and I feel comfortable to have a quiet drink with friends whilst the children play with others outside of the bar area in the open spaces nearby.

“During the week, work stops at 4pm”

yes, and starts at 8am!

“On Fridays and Saturdays, the town is transformed. Young women in sailor outfits dart from pub to pub and music spills across the street”

I have only seen sailor outfits on this one night, ladies wear short skirts like any other weekend night in the UK, has Tom ever been out in Newcastle I ask myself. Darting from pub to pub is not a game that would last very long, given that there is only five drinking holes in Jamestown, one of which is a hotel, and only two of which are pubs. Music indeed spills, but only out of the open air bars of Donny’s and the Mule Yard,(it used to be a stable) the latter of which features live bands and both of which sit on the waterfront, in a non-residential part of town where the lively music, fun, welcoming and friendly atmosphere make for a great night out.

“Saints make fun of a very British “no loitering” sign, but still they loiter: men sitting inside unlit cars or huddled on doorsteps for hour after hour, apparently waiting for something to happen. Everything has an edge”

The very same no loitering sign that this “Brit”, not Saint made fun of in his blog a few week earlier, that everyone on the Island has had a giggle at due to its placement obscurely in a park of all places, the exact location where one might be expected to be able to loiter. As for men sitting in cars this is pure fabrication, a man may of sat in a car, but I guess that’s enough. Most of all, nothing has an edge, other than this report. Jamestown at the weekend is one of the most relaxed, enjoyable friendly nights out I have had, and as my Mum will testify I have had a few.

I could continue, much of the remaining article is simply hearsay and further conjecture, but I wish now to turn attention to the articles comparisons between England and Wales and St Helena. This latest article claims England and Wales uses very specific figures. My first objection is the comparison of the UK as a whole to St Helena, perhaps a look at a small impoverished fishing town, or deprived estate of 4000 people would be more comparable. However, even taking England and Wales as a whole, is the use of these figures in this comparison fair, or even accurate, The Telegraphs own article from 2000 would suggest otherwise claiming that 1 in 200 men in England and Wales are paedophiles, a higher proportion than it is claimed are on St Helena. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1379946/UK-has-250000-paedophiles-says-police-study.html This article also suggest that at that time, only 5% of offenders in the UK were caught and convicted, I suggest that rate makes St Helena look very favourable given the numbers that have been convicted here.

It is also worthy of note that St Helena has the highest proportion of Swedish people outside of Sweden. How many of them are there you would ask, twelve, that I know of, including children, which just goes to show that on an island with such a small population, a few people can make for interesting statistics without actually containing any useful information, Lies, damn lies and statistics as they say.

I do not contest the facts within this article, the cases that have been brought, the apparent cover ups, the whistle blowing stories and subsequent job losses make for very difficult reading. It is clear that things are changing and that perhaps it was only a short time ago that abuse was more accepted than it should be. But let’s be clear, St Helena is one of the safest places I have ever visited. Its people are lovely and friendly, my children can play outdoors without fear of cars, kidnapping or indeed abuse. As I watched the hard-working Saints leaving Bev’s school today, every one of which is nothing short of wonderful giving their time and energy to ensure a better future for St Helena, earning a relative pittance compared to the UK (a person can earn more making bread than teaching here) I felt saddened that they would return home to find their good names blackened with stories like this. Tom Rowley, please report the facts, not stories, bring cover ups to light and ensure bad people get punished, but don’t drag down a society of good people with them.

Does it get any better than this?

Posted on January 15, 2015 by paultyso under January

Tuesday the 6^th and Wednesday the 7^th of January 2015 will forever be one of the most incredible 24 hours of my life, till the day I die I will not forget the experiences we had.

Tuesday started like most others, and has passed into such relative insignificance that I cannot even remember what occurred, but that evening saw me fulfil a lifelong ambition. My Mum will tell you, since I was a very small child I spoke of becoming a deep sea diver, now 12 meters is not deep sea by anyone’s standards, but my first open water dive, in the Atlantic Ocean, was, to the small child inside of me, the deep sea exploration I have spent my life dreaming about and longing for.

By trade an aquarium curator, it is very unusual in my profession that I am not already an experienced diver, but despite working with marine life since 14 years of age, time and money have always failed to meet at a mutually convenient place for me to learn to dive, until of course we arrived on St Helena, the place where things just happen and opportunities just arise.

A group of four of us met our instructor Anthony from Sub-Tropic Adventures, along with two experienced divers Ross and John who had been with us during our pool training to offer re-assurance, a calming presence and the hints and tips of many accumulated dives. After a briefing we set up our gear “with minimal or no help or instruction” and donned our wetsuits. Now 5mm wetsuits are great under the water, but on land, under a tropical sun they become mobile ovens, making me feel restricted, and breathtakingly hot. Before going any further I dived into the cooling waters at the wharf to make my journey on board our diving boat that bit more comfortable.

And so we performed the now customary dance with the surging waves to board our vessel and start our first dive trip. For the most part I felt relaxed, but full of excitement. Bev, despite having had a bad experience in the past, and having felt very nervous before we started our diving journeys appeared to me calm and collected, although a few anxieties undoubtedly hid just beneath the surface, metaphorically and literally. For one of our group the nerves were quite obvious but with re-assuring words from our instructor we were soon all taking a giant stride plunge into the ocean, and with inflated BCDs (Buoyancy control device don’t you know!!) we bobbed around on the surface of the waves like buoys waiting our instruction to start our descent.

Before I knew it I was deflating my BCD and descending in a surprisingly calm manor into the blue. My first ever dive was to be on a ship wreck, the SS Papanui, which sank in 1911. As we descended twisted metal was beneath us, with flashes of blue butterfly fish, locally know as Cunning Fish (Cheatodon sanctaehelenae, yes of course an endemic species seen no-where else on earth) and olive green surgeonfish (Acanthurus bahianus) passing between the shards of iron as the artificial reef provided all the nooks and crannies that any premium marine real estate would. Watching as the others descended I felt freedom, the space provided by the ocean led me to feel unrestricted, and more aware of my buoyancy, place in the water and the results of my movements and breathing patterns than I had done in the pool. I felt at ease and comfortable and yet totally exhilarated to finally find myself in the world that has fascinated me since longer than I can remember.

Conscious of her prior nerves I kept a close eye on Bev as she joined me near the ocean floor, and with the rest of the group alongside us we followed Anthony to explore the wreck. Passing by the enormous boilers I was distracted from Bev and the others by a Moray Eel, (Gymnothroax moringa) sat, mouth aghast and teeth barring, to ward me from getting closer to his hole. We swam slowly on and all the while maintaining a vigilance on Bev I was still able to take in the wonders around me, large shoals of Chromis (Cavalley piolet) fed on falling detritus, Rockfish (Sparisoma stirgatum) rasped at the encrusting algae with their parrot like beaks and shy Soldier fish, (Holocentrus adscensions and Myripristis jacobus) hid in small groups in caves or overhanging metal. The visibility was, even to these inexperienced eyes extraordinary. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was, as there was nowhere that it seems I couldn’t see, there was no gloom, no disappearing into the haze just clear blue water and the towering bow of the SS Papanui ahead of us. As we approached the bow, Ross got my attention and in turn I grabbed Bev and we posed for a underwater snap shot.

Bev and I on the bow of the SS Papanui. Photo Credit Ross Towers, thank you

Bev and I at the bow of the SS Papanui. Photo Credit Ross Towers, thank you

Passing by a myriad of other fish the highlight came nearing the end of our circumnavigation around the giant wreck as a flash of green caught my eye inside a hole. As I approached the huge Green moray eel, 5ft long and as wide as my thigh staring solidly back at me, I pondered what he thought of me, presuming he had seen more black suited men in goggles than I had seen Moray Eels in their natural habitat. Was I a threat, dinner, or simply another underwater passenger passing by.

Returning to our start point we gathered together and started our ascent, a 5m safety stop for 3 minutes seemed like an age but I was pleased with the control I had of my buoyancy, hovering with just gentle fin kicks to maintain my position. We eventually rose to the surface and broke through the waves to several gasps, a couple of cheers and no shortage of pride and joy. We had done it, taken our first real steps to opening a door of wonder and exploration. My whole life I have waited for this moment, and 35 minutes out of my 34 years had just passed by in a blink, but a blink that will live in my memory for a lifetime.

Returning to shore that evening my mind was filled with thoughts of what had just passed, but had already become over ridden by thoughts of tomorrow and our next seaward adventure. Setting out early the next morning from the wharf, Anthony and sub-tropic adventures, having already fulfilled one of my life long ambitions were about to top even that. We had been invited out for a birthday boat trip with Sammi and Paul a couple we met when we arrived but are pleased to say have become closer to with passing time, and it was a pleasant surprise and honour to be invited out for what would soon become clear was a once in a lifetime experience.

As we passed out of James Bay, Paul instructed us to get our snorkelling gear on, and divided us into groups of five, and I don’t mind admitted that I was desperate and over the moon to be included in the first party. Before long the shout came, “a fin, that way” as a very triangular shape broke through the water. “Now” came the next call, “get in now”. Mask and fins in place I quickly jumped into the sea. Unlike yesterday’s dive, this was a complete unknown, my head spun and my heart pounded. Would I see it, would I keep up with it, will I know what to do and how will I make sure I stay within reach of the boat. With shouts of “that way” I pushed my head through the waves and swam furiously until out of the distant blue it came into site, a huge, (or small by their standards) 8 meter long Whale Shark was swimming toward me. I literally screamed with excitement my muffled sounds no doubt making little difference to this giant of the sea. Within a few short seconds as this enormous creature swam directly at me it became apparent that it was me, and not the shark that was required to move, and, realising that the speed of this animal was masked by its gentle movements and fin strokes I quickly gave way and moved to the side as the full length of this beautiful animal passed right on by less than two meters from me.

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Photo credit David Higgins, thank you Dave.

Within a moment he was out of my sight, despite wearing a snorkel, as I lifted my head from the surface I gasped for air, realising I had not taken a breath for some time as I had been transfixed. Taking a moment to re-orientate myself, I had lost site of the other swimmers and the whale. I shouted to the boat “where is he” and was soon directed around the stern of the boat and back to the other swimmers where I caught up with the gentle giant and once again looked on in amazement at what was before me. This time swimming alongside until I was exhausted I could study every detail, those tiny black eye peering into a distant space, and the white spots, like paints splashed onto its flanks like a child with a paint brush.

Photo credit David Higgins

Photo credit David Higgins,

Our short time was up and we were called to return to the boat to allow the next small group to have their adventure. Bev was next to go and I sat aboard the boat watching already jealous that I wasn’t back in the water. Oliver was by now, having seen one or two other children venture in, bursting to have his turn. We were unsure how Oliver would react once we were out there. A shoreline swim in 5 or 6 meters of clear water, the bottom clearly visible, it a very different feeling to the dwarfism that is created when you find yourself a couple of miles off shore, in 80 meters of water. When snorkelling out at sea there is no bottom, no top, nothing to fix your sight upon, there is just blue. It is both disorientating and disconcerting and the sudden appearance of a whale shark is at best a shock even when you are expecting it to be there. But Oliver was by now determined that he would be fine, so, as Bev’s group returned to the boat I put on my wetsuit (to give me extra buoyancy) and adjusted Oliver’s mask and snorkel.

With everyone aboard the boat the shark disappeared and the engine started up as we set off in the hope we would find another. Soon enough an even larger shark, maybe 10 meters in length was spotted. We slowed the engine and our skilled skipper predicted the shark’s movements to position us with the shark facing right onto us. Oliver was by now literally bursting with excitement, and as he proclaimed his desperate need for a wee I gave a final check and jumped in. Oliver cautiously followed, clinging tight onto my neck with one had whilst he proceeded to try to pull down his shorts with the other. I explained quickly that in the sea, he need not remove his shorts for a wee, and told him to hurry the hell up! The necessaries over I swam as hard as I could, Oliver acting as a rather un-streamlined dead weight on my side, we caught up with the shark and the rest of the group. For what could have been a life time we swam alongside the shark, this stunningly beautiful, serene glider of the sea, mouth wide open feeding on plankton, just accepted us into his world. His tiny eyes appeared to watch us carefully, his sideways stare giving character to his glare, as if watching us suspiciously wondering who or what we were, or whether, like the ever present ramora’s (cling fish which hitch a ride on shark fins) we were soon to be latching on for a free ride.

The tiny eye of the whales shark has a penetrating stare. Photo credit Dave Higgins

Before long the next group were itching to get in and we climbed back aboard the boat. But a final adventure awaited as Charlie was now greatly upset that he wasn’t getting to have a go. It had not been our intention for Charlie to get in, we presumed he would be petrified of the experience and did not wish to put him off a magical experience that he may be able to enjoy next year. But seeing his tears I agreed to take him in. Now snorkelling was not an option for Charlie, he has tried, but cannot figure out the requirement for breathing with a snorkel and ends up either holding his breath, or worse, breathing in water through a gap in the side. And so Charlie put on a pair of goggles and was passed down to my waiting arms in the water.

Sammi and Paul with Whale Shark Photo credit Ceri Sansom.

I moved a few meters away from the boat and started to explain to Charlie, “So when I say, take a deep breath, hold it in, and put you head in the water, like this….” In demonstration I peered down into the water, and literally screamed once more as a huge blue shaped passed me just an inch below my feet I could not believe my eyes as I became a matter on centimetres away from stepping on the forehead of a whale shark. Lifting myself up I shouted, “Now Charlie, put your head in now!” in a panic he delved his head into the water, catching I presume the tail end of the shark as it passed beneath us. “Did you see it, did you see it” I asked excitedly as Charlie again took a breath and plunged his face into the waves. “I cant see anything, my eyes don’t work” he said with a wobble in his voice. Charlie could not understand the blue nothing, nothing to set his focus on, no lines, no features, no fish, no rocks or sand, just blue, as if his eye lids had been replaced with a blue cloth. He assumed he couldn’t see anything and his eyes had stopped working at all. As a wave splashed his face, and the chilly water began to make him shiver the tears started to flow. Within a second or two he was screaming and Bev who was now in the water with us, and myself, started waving and shouting for the boat to collect us.

It saddens me that Charlie did not see, or realise he had seen a Whale Shark. What three year old in the World has swam within feet of the largest fish in the oceans? If Charlie was unlucky, Oliver must be the luckiest six year old in the World. A once in a life time experience, that he will most likely have the privilege of enjoying another five or six times before we leave this extraordinary place. As we returned to shore I thanked our guide, and friend Anthony. Telling him that he had not only helped me to fulfil my lifelong ambition, but less than 24 hours later had given me a magical, unbelievable quite gobsmacking experience that I will take with me to my grave. He was simply pleased he could be a part of it such is the humility of the man. No matter what else occurs in our time on this Island, or indeed the rest of my life it will be truly hard to beat the 6^th and 7^th of January 2015, no one can ever take this away from me.

Credit Dr Rafael de la Parra

Sadly I do not yet posses an underwater camera and therefore the above images are all credited to friends. All but the above six images were taken when I or Bev were in the water alongside these amazing animals and show the actual sharks we swam with. The above pictures are the best of the bunch. Taken on another very recent trip by visiting scientist Dr Rafael de la Parra. Rafael, visiting from Mexico and his colleague, Dr Alastair Dove from Georgia aquarium are in St Helena working with the Marine team to find out more about the migrations and movements of whale sharks. Find out more about their visit here.

Two Years in the Atlantic.

Two Years living on the Island of St Helena in the South Atlantic. A blog in pictures

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