Postcard from Saint Nicholas

Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat, Keir Starmer is stealing pennies from the old man’s hat, and we continue our journey around the Isles of Scilly.  Tresco was once called St Nicholas, or was it?

Between Tresco, Bryher, and Samson lie the Tresco and Samson flats.  If you climb to an elevated position such as Samson Hill on Bryher, the pattern of submerged field systems is obvious.  The sea between the three islands is very shallow, and at low tide too shallow for the passage of even the smallest boats.  That all three islands were once one is not disputed: the question is when did they split up, and in what sequence?

Stepping back to St Agnes, I suggested that the Isles of Scilly had not been glaciated.  It would be more accurate to say they have not been glaciated for as long as humans have existed.  Grooves worn into the bedrock and glacial till confirm that at some time in the past, the area was covered by glaciers.  There have been around 30 glacial maximums in the last 7-10 million years, at intervals of on average 280,000 years.  However the last 4 are traditionally supposed to have taken place in the last 300,000 years, at intervals of about 80,000 years.  The problem is that the closer we get to the present, the easier it is to distinguish between relatively minor fluctuations in climate.  For current purposes, the important thing to understand is that the islands are not composed entirely of solid granite, as is often claimed.  Glacial Till forms a major part of the islands’ structure, and as elsewhere in the British Isles, often fills hidden valleys created by meltwater channels and glaciers.  These valleys are not random, but exploit weaknesses in the granite bedrock where mineral veins and lodes of ore once existed.

This means that the commercial mining present in Cornwall has never happened in Scilly, although small deposits of tin have from time to time been mined at Castle Down on Tresco, in all probability from before Roman times.  It is hard to distinguish natural features from the tin mines and burial chambers.  Whatever they are, you can fall into them and break your neck if you are not careful.

As the sea has returned, wave action opens up the hidden valleys, and results in an unpredictable break-up of what appears to be solid land.  Many commentaries suggest that Samson was joined to Bryher until quite recently, and that Samson will in turn be divided in two.  This ignores the fact that Samson is separated from Bryher by a deep channel, and was already described as a separate island in the 10^th century.  What we do not know is whether it was at that time a tidal island, or cut off by open water.  The former is more likely, as the depth of water between Tresco and Samson is only one foot at low tide, compared to 20 feet between Samson and Bryher.  My own opinion is that the historical island of St Nicholas included Bryher as well as Tresco, in addition to large areas that are now part of the Atlantic Ocean.

A sad outlying remnant of Samson is now called Puffin Island.  Surrounded by submerged fields, and within a rat’s swim of Tresco, it does not seem a likely home for Puffins.  They prefer the remoteness of Annet.

My own visits to Tresco and Bryher were on separate days.  A point to note for both islands is that there have separate low and high tide jetties, and for obvious reasons these are not close together.  Make sure you know which one you will be leaving from when you arrive.  As with St Agnes, it takes more than a day to explore each island thoroughly.  What you end up doing may well depend on the weather, time of year, and the tides.  For both islands we landed on and left from the low tide jetty, which means high tide came and went while we were on the islands.

For Tresco the low tide jetty is at the nearest point to St Mary’s, which means a short boat journey followed by a long walk.  A makeshift bus service involving tractors and trailers was in operation for the infirm when we arrived.  We walked to what is now called ‘The Flying Boat Café’ for a snack.  I am sure it had a different name then.  Tresco is noted for its snob appeal, with well used yacht anchorages on both sides of the island.  This was the one eatery that welcomed day trippers off the tourist boats.  The Café is in what was the Flying Boat Base during WWI, along with the former post office store, the island farm, and public toilets.

Although guides refer to the Flying Boat Base as New Grimsby, the rest of the town is 400 yards further north along an exposed shoreline.  Another 200 yards to the high tide jetty.  The New Inn is the only pub on the island, and is set well back from the shore in New Grimsby.  We did not deviate to try it out, but pressed onto Cromwell’s Castle.  Not really a castle, but a battery dating back to the short reign of Edward VI, enlarged after parliamentary forces finally sized the islands in 1651.  There was another civil war battery beside the low tide jetty, but there are no significant remains.

Climbing steeply uphill from Cromwell’s Castle we reached King Charles’ Castle, also built by Edward VI and almost a small palace in its original conception.  Charles II stayed here on his way into exile in 1646.  As Duke of Cornwall he had led Royalist resistance in the West Country from the age of 15.  It is possible that Charles I also stayed here while travelling to and from Spain and France.  One of the strange things about having even a drop of royal blood, is that you can look out a window, and know that a distant ancestor looked out the same window hundreds of years ago.  The perplexing fact is that several million other people can do the same, and most of them are people you would rather not know at all.

From King Charles’ Castle the group I was with decided to return to New Grimsby and the Abbey, primarily in search of presents to take home.  The gallery at New Grimsby having attracted a lot of interest in passing on the way out.  My own wanderings took me around the north coast of Tresco to Piper’s Hole Cave.  After deciding not to drown myself in the cave at high tide, I took an unofficial ‘jungle path’ across the heath towards New Grimsby.  This path is made by other inquisitive types, and links the various burial chambers and tin scrapings together.  Just before reaching the main path, I broke off down through a firebreak in a small plantation, into Old Grimsby.  Old Grimsby was the main port for the island while a bar remained between Bryher and Tresco.  The name Grimsby reinforces the improbable Viking connections between Scilly and NE England, alluded to when writing from St Agnes.

At Old Grimsby I met up with some friends again, and we were all made unwelcome at the Ruin Beach Café, which clearly caters for upmarket clientele only.  See vegan raves online.  Making a hasty retreat, we split up again.  The group off to the Abbey, while I headed to another of Edward VI’s blockhouses, then wandered around the east coast to Penzance Road.  I met up with the others again at the Abbey, just as a guided bird watching walk was leaving.  Tagging along out of curiosity, I was pleasantly surprised by the professionalism of the guide.  Tripods and powerful monoculars provided, with birds popping up on cue as we did a circuit of the Abbey Pool.  With turning up wearing my standard 10×50 binoculars, I suspect the guide might have given me more than my fair share when it came to using his equipment.  It is amazing how small, brown, fast-moving birds turn out to be colourful when viewed with the right equipment.

Although the ‘Abbey’ occupies the site of the 10^th century Priory of St Nicholas, it is entirely a 19^th century mansion, built by a Liberal politician called Augustus Smith.  Smith became Lord Proprietor of the Isles of Scilly in 1834, with a 99 year lease from the Duchy of Cornwall.  His family were bankers from Nottingham, and he had no connection with Scilly or Cornwall.  He only took on Scilly after plans to lease the Arran Islands in Ireland fell through.  Like all nouveau riche landowners, his idea of improvement meant replacing people with animals.  He is largely responsible for creating the myth that native Scillonians were illiterate smugglers and wreckers.  He did not marry, but his descendants still hold the lease of Tresco, and protect his memory.

At the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries c.1541, Thomas Seymour became the first Lord Proprietor of Scilly, only to lose his head in 1549.  From that point up to 1834 the Lords were members of the Godolphin family, latterly as Dukes of Leeds.  The Godolphins were close allies of Charles II and ultimately intermarried with many of his descendants.  They were also Cornish natives, with the name being derived from Cornish for White (i.e. Sea) Eagle.  The mysterious translation of my Legg ancestors from Scilly to Yorkshire is easily explained, once you realise they remained tenants of the same lord.  The Godolphins are often portrayed as bad Lords of Scilly, but had to contend with major inundations by the sea, and much loss of land.

A ten minute walk took us back to the jetty for the boat ‘home’ to our downmarket holiday apartment in a back street of St Mary’s.  Four days later we set off for Bryher, again at low tide.

The open topped boat was built on Viking lines with a very shallow draught, and even so just managed to negotiate the narrow channel between Bryher and Tresco with an inch beneath the keel.  The low tide jetty on Bryher was only built in 1990 after a plea from the island to Anneka Rice.  Possibly the only positive thing the BBC has ever done, and then only with other people’s money.  The island previously missed out on a lot of tourist trade.

Bryher is well populated, but seemed strangely deserted on the day we visited.  We set out to do an anti-clockwise circuit of the island, heading at first for Shipman Head to the north.  The ‘Down’ has similar features and levels of exposure to the top of a Welsh mountain, so do not be fooled by the name.  The Iron Age hill fort on the map turns out to be two trenches cut across the headland.  Shipman Head is now inaccessible for reasons already alluded to, with a ravine full of raging surf separating it from the Down.  That ravine might have been full of tin, lead, silver, or gold: only the lobsters will know now.

The west side of the Down overlooks Hell Bay.  Those with 40:20 vision might just pick out the USA on the horizon, unless the Earth does turn out to be a big ball after all.  Unlike most of Scilly, there is no protecting reef for Shipman Head, so Hell Bay sees the full force of Atlantic rollers.  The West Coast of Bryher is in scenic terms one of the most beautiful places in Britain, with the pastoral idyll and tempest wilderness in close juxtaposition.  Wandering southwards around Gweal Hill, you reach the tombolo of Gweal Neck that could provide access to the tidal island of Gweal for the daring.  Ordnance Survey maps show open water, which tells you that dry land does not appear at every low tide.

South of Gweal, once again in the shelter of reefs, the blasted heath is replaced by lush grassland and scrubby woods, populated by birds and butterflies, many no doubt making their first landfall after a long flight from France or Spain.  On the sheltered side of Heathy Hill we enjoyed a picnic in a prehistoric settlement, whose drystone dykes ran out into the waves.  After lunch I made the surprisingly arduous climb up Samson Hill, while others once again headed for tea rooms and gift shops.  The views from the top are well worth it, with clear views of the submerged lands.  The hill was another fort in the Iron Age, with ramparts now largely obscured by gorse.  As prehistoric forts are not common on Scilly, the threat must be perceived as coming from the West and the open Atlantic, rather than Cornwall.

Descending to the high tide jetty, I discovered that the tide had not risen as expected on that day, so it was back to the low tide jetty with a welcome visit to the cool interior of All Saints Church on the way.  As before, the evening boat journey back to St Marys was marked by spectacular silhouettes of the distant jagged reefs to the West.

Note: Thomas Osborne, the 4th Duke of Leeds (1713–1789) married Mary Godolphin, daughter of Henrietta Churchill Godolphin, suo jure Duchess of Marlborough, and The 2nd Earl of Godolphin, and assumed the arms of Godolphin and Churchill.  George Osborne the politician is not related, his lineage is from the Baronets of Ballintaylor and Ballylemon in Ireland.
 

© text & images Bebi Seasick 2024