Bryher, Tresco, St Agnes: art, music, gigs and more fog
25-28 July 2014 Friday morning was sunny and fog-free, and we went ashore to Bryher to provision at the excellent small shop. Next to the shop was a tiny sculpture garden featuring driftwood and other beachcombed items. They are an artistic lot in Scilly.
While the boys played frantic table tennis in the well-appointed community centre, I walked a short distance and did a quick pen sketch of the view, combining lush subtropical vegetation with an exotic view of small rocky islands west of Bryher. Sam and I wandered round the south of the island in the afternoon sun.
The rough granite of Scilly gets tumbled into smooth oval pebbles on the western beaches, and many people are tempted to build tall stacks of the stones.
Round on Rushy Bay a group of french tourists had created a beach version of the Scilly flag.
There was gig racing on Friday night, with a trip on Firethorn, the Bryher ferryboat, at 1940, so we had organised an early pizza supper at Samson Hill. It wasn't exactly Pizza Express, more a pizza oven in the garden, but the results were delicious as we ate them overlooking the beach.
We wandered back to the main Church Quay, with the evening light catching the moored yachts.
Bryher has a simple method of roadside shops - small wooden boxes filled with local produce for sale on an honesty box basis. Great for late impulse buys!
Firethorn was full with visitors from both Tresco and Bryher as we motored out over Tresco flats to catch the gig racing. These are ancient wooden rowing boats for six, one for each island. This night's race was swaps, so teams were rowing in other island's boats, to even the playing field. The sea was completely flat and smooth and they all lined up near Nut Rock. It was so warm most of the men were bare chested.
The race itself was a short sharp mile or so into St Mary's harbour. Half a dozen overloaded ferry boats followed the gigs as they sped across the water, shouting encouragement.
The winning crews celebrated with oars aloft in the harbour, and we returned to Bryher as the sun set, with stunning views across the islands to the west.
Saturday we awoke once more to fog, even thicker than before.
It was a relatively early start, as we planned to go to St Agnes for the day and the ferry left at 945. So we cautiously motored over to the beach next to Anneke quay and waited while the tractor ferried camping luggage to Firethorn. The ferry was to stop at St Mary's first, and as it was Saturday many of the campers were catching the Scillonian back to the mainland.
The Firethorn crew didn't seem to be put off by the fog, even though it wreathed the sea in mist, so that Tresco looked like a floating island.
We set off, fully laden. It was low water so we could see the bottom just below Firethorn's keel. The visibility was better here than in the air. Sam just spotted a crab scuttling by.
The ferry took the long route west of Samson, and the fog grew thicker. It was somewhat eerie, having no landmarks amid all the sharp rocks, but they are practised skippers. We passed a rock densely populated with cormorants and seals, and a moored cruiseliner appeared suddenly out of the murk. Eventually we reached St Mary's, where a human chain swept luggage up damp stone steps to the quay. As we approached St Agnes the fog lightened slightly, and once in the harbour we were almost in sunshine.
After a welcome drink in the friendly Turk's Head we wandered through the lanes of St Agnes past the white lighthouse. St Agnes feels if anything wilder and more remote than Bryher, and its offlying islets are bird sanctuaries. Outside the post office shop was a chalk board of sightings.
We reached the main beach, Periglis, looking west towards Bishop Rock and the western rocks.
The reason for our visit was Aggyfest, a miniature music festival, with one stage, a BBQ, beer tent and the entire population of the island. It was definitely homespun, with bands arriving late, and the MC calling out to the audience to share ipods for music to fill the gaps. But the setting was unrivalled, and the burgers and crepes were delicious.
At 1600 we had to leave to catch the only ferry back. Aggfest was due to continue till midnight, and as we waited at the quay we saw one musician rowing across in a dinghy with his guitar case on his back. Back on Bryher we had a late supper in Fraggle Rock, so it was almost dark by the time we got back to Tern. The tide was full out, so it was a long way to drag the boat back to the water's edge.
Sunday morning was calm but grey and the air felt much fresher. We went ashore at Tresco, and all had showers at the New Inn before a quick provisioning foray to the Tresco stores. A visiting blues guitarist who was camping in Bryher played a lunchtime set at the New Inn, then we sneaked out to the beach and ate our pasties.
We headed north past the quay to follow a narrow rocky path to Cromwell's castle just beyond our mooring, through bracken, gorse and heather just on the point of flowering. Inside the castle was some two hundred year old graffiti and the obligatory couple of cannons.
The view south from the top of the castle was impressive.
Further up the hill were the ruins of the older, 16th century King Charles castle, with similarly impressive views east to St Martins and beyond as far as Land's End. We followed the path across the heather to the east coast of Tresco and the terrifying maze of small islands and rocky reefs.
Tucked in among the trees on the sheltered east hillside was a treehouse complete with vast hammock and a selection of ropes to climb up, bringing out the latent pirate in all the boys.
We wandered back across the island to the new quay, where the skies cleared, and I did some sketching, while David sat on the beach, and Jonny was recruited as a waterborne roadie for the blues guitarist. After a final water top-up, Adrian returned Tern, our large motor launch, effectively stranding us all aboard Orion with only little Beetlejuice. More wind was forecast for Monday, from the North West, the least desired direction for our mooring, and we had a very rocky night. In the morning the wind was 15-18 knots from the NW and the sea north of New Grimsby sound was flecked with white and the horizon was bumpy. Not a day to go to sea. The prospect of going ashore to Bryher in Beetlejuice was not very appealing. Adrian, Jonny and David volunteered for the first trip, and had to deal with some choppy waters. Even medium sized waves seem large when you are floating only a few inches above the waterline. David returned alone as helmsman and suggested that he take Sam and I in two separate journeys. I was glad I had chosen to wear quick-drying walking trousers and my sailing jacket, as within 30 seconds I was wet from the waist down. Once we were all ashore, feeling somewhat shipwrecked and rather chilly in the sharp wind, we decided to walk to Hell's bay for hot chocolate. Bryher was in its Scottish mode now rather than yesterday's caribbean setting. In between rain showers, Sam and Adrian played giant chess in the gardens of Hells Bay hotel. Here's a shot of the game in the later stages. Adrian resigned a few moves later.
Having dried out, we moved to the sheltered eastern coast and the sun appeared briefly as we ate our lunch looking over Tresco flats at low water springs. A few people were wading across between the islands, and yachts had completely dried out.
The boys settled down to another table tennis marathon in the community centre and Adrian and I walked out North to Shipman head, past more stone balancing sculptures.
The seas were more disturbed as we walked North, with plenty of white water and frothing sea in the original Hell's Bay, after which the hotel further south was named. We looked at the various offshore rocks we would need to negotiate the next morning.
The latter part of the afternoon was much sunnier and warmer, and by the time David had to reprise his shuttle service to Orion, the sea was much flatter. We made the final preparations to leave the next morning at 0700.