The end of incarceration is in sight, although that’s just as well, as I’m really starting to get tired of this situation now. There is a mosquito net installed over my bed here, and I am using it, but I haven’t actually seen any mosquitoes — possibly there was one that drifted by, last week. Otherwise it’s purely cosmetic. And if you think that might be a metaphor for other things, well, help yourself.
OK, it’s time to do the main panorama from my place of incarceration. The movie director in my head would still prefer to wait for the lighting to be just so, but to be honest, breaks in the cloud have been rare this last week — indeed, as I type this on Wednesday morning, it’s raining heavily and none of this can be seen at all.
To the left, Ladder Hill, depicted in close up a few days ago. Below it, tucked in its valley, Jamestown, the capital and one of the few places on the island where one can actually land a boat. To the right, Rupert’s Valley, more industrial (i think those are fuel pipelines visible) — between them, Munden’s Hill. All to be more intimately explored at a later date. In the direction shown, the next land is, I calculate, the Ivory Coast, or perhaps Ghana, at least 1,800 miles away.
The tape marks the legal limit of my world. But I have suppliers who can transfer across it some essential supplies, not least a couple of six-packs of Windhoek beer, from Namibia. Thank you Gareth — who’s also, in the end, the reason I am here in the first place (more on this next week, probably) — and his other half, Jamie. Dear St Helena Government: I didn’t cross the tape.
A new place means a new ecosystem, and new flora. I have absolutely no idea what these babies (they are about the height of my hand) will grow into — cacti perhaps, but that’s just a guess. I don’t have a garden here as such; these are growing at the top of the rocky bank at the back of my house, that currently marks one of the limits of my world. But they’re something cute to look at, all the same.
Sunshine has actually been at a premium thus far, and I’ve been waiting to give you more of the panorama from my place of incarceration until the light gets better. But a burst of it after lunch did today illuminate the distant Ladder Hill. So named as it is the top of Jacob’s Ladder, visible heading down to the right — an infamous 700-step climb up from Jamestown below. People run up this for fun, so I’ve been told. Rest assured that once I get out of here, I shall not be joining them.
Four (or, if you count like the St Helena Government, three) days into quarantine and I already have enemies — namely these little ants that seem able to get into sealed boxes and packets of food, march across my ceiling (as here) in regimented lines, turn up anywhere and everywhere. They’re irritating rather than harmful but I am still on a war of extermination. It gives me something to do, anyway,
I reckon there are five or six decent shots available that between them will encompass the view from my place of quarantine. This is the left-hand-most of them all, if you see what I mean. We are here looking west; while not very apparent on this shot, on the top of the hill is an old fort, dating from the 18th century. To the right (north), a spectacular view over Jamestown to the ocean, but you can see that another day.
While I do resent having to spend time in quarantine, particularly as I was tested not only before I flew, but at the airport, and came up (inevitably) negative both times — I accept there are worse places to do time.
I’m in quarantine, meaning I know that for another week, I can photograph only what is within, or seen from, the house I occupy. It’s a very nice house, with a superb view, but still, I have pretty much already worked out what shots might be worth trying, and will just have to pick my way through them, in a kind of drip-feed way. For a start, I am not putting up the view just yet, because today was cloudy, and there’s no sense blowing that one until the light is at its best.
Therefore, we’ll start today with some of the local fauna. My talents as a naturalist are not great but I’m 99% sure these are mynah birds — if they’re not, they’re doing a damn good impression of them. The one on the right fluffs himself up dramatically, as they check out the new human on the block.
Is this working? Hmmm, seems to be.
OK then, I am successfully online on one of the world’s most remote islands, 1,200 miles from the nearest other land. The landing — on a bare airstrip perched on top of piles of volcanic cinder — was not as rough as I’d been led to believe it might be. Ten days of quarantine await, however; you and I both will have plenty of opportunities to inspect my accommodation between now and my release on Friday 19th.
My first stop on the journey today was York, and here is its fine-looking railway station. I upload this while sat in Stansted Airport terminal along with a handful of other people, and no places of refreshment open. So there’ll be nothing more to picture today before the flight leaves just after midnight. I’ll see you in quarantine, somewhere in the South Atlantic.
Being 42 