Joshua Slocum - Where are you?

We mentioned Captain Joshua Slocum in several blog posts and actually dedicated a whole post to him on his birthday one year. Slocum's Sailing Alone Around the World is a classic for sailors and quite a wonderful read. Sailing aboard his 37' yawl, Spray, he was the world's first solo circumnavigator (1895-1898) and an amazing guy. We knew he had stopped here in St. Helena, but had forgotten all about it until I saw a souvenir coffee mug in a local shop here with an image of the Slocum commemorative plaque on it. We'd never seen it. I asked where it was and nobody in the shop knew, but figured the Tourist Info folks would know.

We walked next door and asked a new friend, Val, where the plaque was located. Hmm … she didn't know and asked another tourist info woman. She didn't know either. Our best bet, they said, was going to see Liz at the museum. We didn't have anything else on the agenda, so we trotted the hill to the museum and found Liz only too accommodating. She had no idea where the plaque was, maybe in the Castle Gardens, but she dug through several files and books to verify where it might be. All to no avail. “Go to the Archives” she  advised. “They'll surely know where it is.”

So we strolled across Main Street through the Castle gates to the Archives where a lovely young lady spent at least 30 minutes hunting through registers and files, looking for mention of Joshua Slocum and  the plaque commemorating his visit to the island in 1898.

She found a copy of the actual newspaper article in the St. Helena Guardian dated April 14, 1898, which she kindly allowed me to photograph, but no mention of the existence of the plaque or its whereabouts. She suggested looking in the Castle Gardens or perhaps, the Heritage Trust would know something about it.

We stopped in the Castle Gardens and made a careful circuit of the grounds, just in case we'd missed it the last time through, but we could find no plaque, so we headed back up Main Street to the Heritage Trust office. We explained our quest and though they promised to look further into it, they had no more information to offer, nor any other suggestions for searching further. We'd exhausted all the options.

The story of Slocum's visit here was a good one, by the way. When he arrived in Jamestown Harbour and anchored Spray (probably not too far from where Nine of Cups is moored today), he was warmly greeted and welcomed. Slocum was quite the raconteur and gave two talks while here, one for a few pence admission (fattening up the cruising kitty) at the Garden Hall and one at Plantation House for the Governor, officers and special guests.  He was actually invited to stay at Plantation House as the guest of the Governor (we were not) for a few days in a room that was reputedly haunted. He met no ghosts and received gifts of fresh fruit and cakes when he departed. What the article did not say was that he was also given a gift of a goat, which in his book he refers to as an “incarnation of evil”. The goat managed to eat his West Indies charts, much of his food, several lines and Slocum's best straw hat. He “marooned” the animal ashore at Ascension when he dropped off the mail.

We headed back to Cups, our quest unfulfilled. We reread Slocum's chapter about St. Helena Island, chuckling all over again about the goat and his luck (or lack thereof) with other animals he'd had aboard … a rat, a tree-crab, a centipede and some crickets. The only animals that evidently managed to survive without causing problems were a family of spiders that had been aboard since his departure from Boston.

The next morning we took a short-cut we'd found behind the Customs building up through the Castle Gardens, heading for Anne's Place to do some internet. And there it was … as plain as day … the Slocum plaque. It wasn't really hidden away, just way at the back of the garden where one would usually not go unless heading down to Customs or the apartments just behind. Birds had managed to deface the plaque, but the rest of our water bottle and some toilet tissue did a fine clean-up job. Hello, Joshua Slocum!

St. Helena to French Guiana - Days 1 & 2

french guiana 3215 nm

Day 1

Miles to go: 3,215

We had a false start on our planned departure day. We'd checked out the day before and all was ready on Nine of Cups ... except us. We dilly-dallied around till it was well into the afternoon and then the stove solenoid seemed to be having a problem and we finally decided to spend another day on the mooring. Port Control was most obliging, which was good because we'd spent the last of our St. Helena pounds on a bottle of St. Helena-produced rum!  I think we've been running around so much on the island, we needed to get back into passage mode, and a day and night on the boat was just what the doctor ordered.

The actual departure day dawned sunny and warm. We were up and ready to cast off the mooring lines by 0730. St. Helena Radio bade us farewell and we were on our way. A friendly pod of pantropical spotted dolphins swam with us for several miles...a fine send-off.

The sun soon ducked behind the grey, overcast sky to which we've become accustomed. Still, it was comfortably warm with just a sweatshirt and sweatpants and our feet were bare. No complaints. We set a northwest course (324 degrees) and moved along at 5.5 to 6 knots with 12-15 knots of apparent wind from the southeast. We poled out to port and the heel wasn't bad. A delightful way to start a long, 3,000 nm passage. Late in the afternoon, we could still see St. Helena rising out of the Atlantic behind us, but as the grey day faded, soon the island, too, dipped below the horizon and faded from sight.

It was calm enough to cook dinner down below (tuna fish and pasta). No one's felt the least bit nauseous...thank, Neptune. We saved the PB & J sandwiches for night watch.

Day 2

Miles to go: 3,081

A crappy first back-to-sea night watch. It alternated drizzle, then heavy rain, then more drizzle. Just when we thought it had stopped and dragged all our gear to the cockpit, it would start all over again. The pattern repeated throughout the night. The wind increased to the mid-20s with gusts in the 30s, and with it, a corresponding increase in the wave action. We had some good-sized waves knocking us around by 0300. The ride was lumpy and bumpy, but fast, and we averaged high 6s, 7s and 8s all through the night hours ... but not much sleep.

It's a new moon, so no moon at all and the sky's as black as tar. We could see stars every once in awhile for brief periods. Soon we should be able to see the North Star again. It's been a long, long time since Cups has been in the northern hemisphere.

The day dawned sunny with blue skies which were soon masked by thick, grey banks of clouds that showered all around us, but not on us. A positive consequence of last night's heavy rains is that the decks are noticeably clean this morning. The grey day lingered on and finally the blue sky reappeared. The winds have continued in the high teens and low 20s, giving us a reasonable point of sail, good mileage and big waves.

St. Helena already seems like a pleasant, but distant memory. We're getting back into passage mode with many miles before us.

Sail along with us ...  Days 3 - 5

Exploring St. Helena - pt. 2

The Bellstone, Halley's Mount and Diana's Peak National Park

The days here have been warm, but mostly overcast. Sometimes in the afternoon, the sun peeks through for a few hours. When we left for Diana's Peak National Park, it was overcast here in Jamestown and by the time we climbed to the higher altitudes, it was misty, thick with low lying clouds. We opted to take a little detour down to Levelwood, on the southeast corner of the island, in hopes that the day would clear. We were in search of the Bellstone, “a trchyandesite boulder that rings (like a bell) when struck.” Hmm. We found the boulder enclosed in a little fenced area and sure enough, when David struck it with a nearby rock, its sonorous tone rung out like a bell. There are evidently more boulders like this in the area, but one was enough. The day was clearing and we headed to Diana's Peak.

As we made our way back to the national park entrance, the mist descended once again. The sun was teasing us. We saw a sign for Halley's Mount and decided to climb it. We traipsed up a grassy trail lined in flax and found the foundation of the observatory on the top of the hill.  Edmond Halley was only 20 years old when he visited St. Helena Island in 1677. He was commissioned to catalogue the stars in the Southern Hemisphere in order to correct astronomical tables then in use. St. Helena offered several advantages. It was a British colony and it was far enough into the Southern Hemisphere to view the southern stars, but still close enough to the equator to view the northern stars as well. The disadvantage? Like today for us, the skies were frequently overcast so his viewing time was challenged. He observed the transit of Mercury across the sun while he was here in an effort to measure the distance of the Earth from the sun.

The sun was peeking out again as we made our way to the entrance to the national park. We could delay no longer if we wanted to make the walk. We chuckled in amazement at the cows grazing on the steep, terraced hillsides. They seemed all a-tilt, but certainly content enough as they munched away.

The road to Diana's Peak was unsurprisingly steep, narrow and winding. We parked off the road on a hillside and made our way up the Cabbage Tree Road, a broad grassy path that was wet with mist and lined with overhanging Black Cabbage trees. Yes ... the soaking mist had returned.

The trail itself was now wet and slippery in spots. Bare spots were turning muddy. Up, up, up, we tramped, switchbacking back and forth with tall, green flax lining both sides of the trail.

In days past, flax was a big industry on St. Helena and New Zealand flax was planted in every available area. The flax was harvested and processed for rope-making. The advent of nylon rope, however, killed the industry and though the flax remains, the flax harvesting has long since passed, other than for crafts.

As we trudged further and further up the hillside, we noticed a definite change in vegetation. This area of St. Helena is home to significant endemic flora and fauna. There are no snakes on St. Helena, but there are 33 species of spiders, 22 of which are endemic. Several of them live in this area and thought rare, I was not particuarly looking forward to meeting any of them...and we didn't. We did spot endemic blushing snails though. Some were mating … blushing snail bliss.

The area was green and lush, the plants making the most of this misty day. There are 50 endemic plants and ferns here. The tree ferns, in particular, reminded us of our time in New Zealand.

We continued upwards and came to a sign for Diana's Peak Road. Wood-framed dirt-filled steps aided our ascent.

The higher we climbed, the thicker the mist became. From a distance we could see  Actaeon Peak, distinguished by the large Norfolk pine growing directly from its peak. This peak is also known as Cuckold's Point and we knew immediately why it had been named as such.

By the time we reached the summit of Actaeon, Diana's Peak was nowhere to be seen. It was off somewhere in the distance, but we certainly couldn't figure out where. It was getting late and we chucked it in. A great walk, but certainly not for the vistas.

As always, we were down much faster than we had climbed. It was after 3pm, but we thought we'd make a quick foray down to Blue Hill, home of the Donkey Sanctuary. For years, donkeys were the key work animal on the island and provided a means of transportation for the up-country Saints. When they were replaced by mechanized equipment and cars, they were gathered together and live now quite peacefully in a pasture area of Blue Hill. They're still used for transporting endemic plants to the High Peak in the island's efforts to restore fragile ecosystems.

Another full day on St. Helena and there was still so much to see and do. We caught the last ferry (6PM) back to Cups for dinner and a movie aboard. We needed to recuperate and be ready for another day ashore. Whew! We'll need a vacation from our vacation.