Jamestown

Today I visited Jamestown, the St Helenan capital. The road there seemed to be one long descent but, as Emma pointed out, we were driving down the side of an extinct volcano. With a population of just over 600 people it is a village-sized capital city just over half a mile long and firmly wedged in between the sides of a very steep valley. 

The road that drops down the valley edge to the far end of town is narrow and precipitous. The view across to the dark wall of rock opposite gives a sense of containment, claustrophobia and the question as to why someone would build in what seems such an unwelcoming location. But the town itself, sitting tightly in the confines of the valley floor, is hospitable and quiet. None of the frenetic madness of any other capital nor that locked in isolation of individuals; I was greeted often by complete strangers as I walked around. It has a touch of Rome about it: no colosseum or ancient architecture, simply that all roads lead here - all two of them.  It is impossible to get lost with its one main road of mainly Georgian buildings, faded but authentic and comfortable in their skin. And everywhere you look, apart from seaward, the valley hems you in.  

Such a small place takes no time to explore but first I wanted to experience grocery shopping in such an isolated island. I went with Emma into small stores that reminded me of the days back home before mass supermarket chains and endless choice. Fresh produce is limited; the island's fresh fruit and vegetables are almost entirely brought in by boat and are quickly snapped up. Today the talk seemed to be about how there was so little left in the shops given there had been three boats in during the previous weeks.

A trip to the tourist information centre, coffee and cake in a hotel and then slowly wandering around absorbing the atmosphere filled time before lunch in an open air restaurant in the Fort Gardens. The church and the museum followed and then it was the madness that is Jacob's ladder.

High above the city, on the valley's edge sit the remains of Ladder Hill fort, one of many built mostly in the eighteenth century after a Dutch invasion of the island. It was served from Jamestown by a rope ladder (hence the name), and later a cable railway, up the steep side of the valley, a rail system now converted into a steep staircase. It has quite a reputation and every year there is a timed race to the top. The record is a crazy five minutes something to climb the 699 steps to get 600 feet above Jamestown climbing at an average angle of forty degrees. I was nowhere near that. But I made it. It was then time to  descend, head for a well deserved beer and to reflect on whether a more relaxed capital exists anywhere in the world.