Tag: Discovery
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St Helena, Landing and Arriving
The drive down from the airport to Jamestown was different to anything I had expected, read about or indeed remembered. It’s always like that, though, isn’t it? You can read as much as you like about a place, but nothing can ever compare to actually being there, taking in the sights with your very own eyes, breathing in the air, feeling it, making conversation with the local taxi driver taking me to the only hotel on the island, and in the case of St Helena, taking in the vast expanse of such a small island.
The driver, Craig, took me from the airport on the only road that led to Jamestown, opened in 2017, built by a South African engineering company and financed by the British government. The wide variety of landscapes we went through, in only thirty minutes was vast, from arid, rocky, rugged mountainous terrain, through deep verdant valleys, along narrow mountain passes where vehicles of all sizes had to honk their horns to oncoming traffic and stop regularly in tiny bays for others to pass, to the town of Jamestown and the port.
We arrived in Jamestown. It was very sunny and warm, welcoming. There were vehicles everywhere, most of which looked like they had been inspected for road safety in a different century, and possibly were, vehicles of all descriptions and in all state of repair, parked neatly and tidily in the middle of the Main Street. There is only one Main Street, with its few shops on either side, a single bank, The Bank of St Helena, which issues its own notes and coins, although British pounds are also accepted, a few market stores, the Catholic Church, a prison, a hotel, The Mantis St Helena, where I was staying, the castle, where the governor works, Anne’s place, the local hangout for yachties, the museum, and of course, the bottom of Jacob’s ladder.
My memories all came flooding back.
Dates: I was in St Helena in January 2026.
The rugged hills leading from the airport to Jamestown 
HM Prison in Jamestwon 
View up the ladder 
The Catholic Church 
The governors office es at the castle 
Very old hotel, closed down now 
Images of Jamestown 
Images of Jamestown 
The ladder -
South Africa, Leaving Cape Town in 1982
We departed the Royal Yacht Club in Cape Town in February 1982. None of us are entirely sure of the exact date; I have as yet to locate Scally’s logbook amongst my father’s stuff at the farm. We had stocked up on provisions, Scally was all ready and prepared, and were headed off on what was for me, my first long sailing trip on Scally. (My father, mother and oldest of my three younger brothers, who was fourteen at the time, had sailed Scally alone from Durban to Cape Town in January).
None of us knew what was in store of us on the south Atlantic, on what was expected to be a fourteen-day journey to St Helena. Well, maybe my father did, but he didn’t share much with us. Not long out at sea, we all got to experience the unpredictability of the ocean, its unwelcome and highly changeable weather patterns, dark grey and threatening skies above, gales and high winds, heavy rain, stormy and violent seas, and for me, severe sea-sickness.
After about ten days of this, the weather finally calmed and cleared, the sun came out, literally and figuratively, and we set about getting ready to sight the island, taking turns sitting on the stanchions on the bow to see who would spot the island first.
After fourteen days, she was in sight, and we anchored, safely, in the bay at Jamestown. Scally, and my father, had brought us safely to our first port of call.
Dates: I left Cape Town in early January 2026.
Departing Cape Town 
Yachties waving us off 
Leaving Cape Town 
My mother and two younger brothers in the cockpit 
The oldest of my brothers 
Docked in Jamestown, my youngest brother at the helm 
Tabel Mountain Retreating -
South Africa, Returning to Cape Town
I arrived in Cape Town for the beginning of my three-month sabbatical, on the last day of 2025. The Mother City, as it’s also fondly called. Every time I come, I am reminded of the warmth, kindness and genuineness that South Africans share with everyone around them. There is positivity and colour everywhere you turn.
On this, the last day of the year, I drove to False Bay and Simon’s Town for a cup of tea and looked out across the bay, imagining Scally and my Mom, Dad and Manuel sailing by all those years ago. A few days later, I set about to find where Scally was moored just before departure from South Africa. The Royal Yacht Club.
The port of Cape Town is enormous, with lots of nooks and cranny’s for all sorts of vessels from small boats, fishing boats, passenger liners, cargo ships and oil tankers with all manner of flags and ports of origin, yachts and other types of pleasure boats. It dominates the city and can be seen from everywhere, so finding it was not hard. Finding the entrance to the yacht club on the other hand, took more than a few tries. I had to go through at least three barriers and show my ID and driving licence, open the boot, open my bags, explain why I was there and who I was visiting. I finally made it but had to fill out a lot of personal details at the entrance to the RYC before finally being let in, with a stern warning not to go onto any of the pontoons.
I possess a very old photo from the day of our departure in 1982, and so knew more or less where Scally would have been moored. I walked along the wharf a little and saw the pontoon where she had been, although the pontoons in those days were significantly more rudimentary. You couldn’t imagine a more idyllic and dramatic setting for a yacht marina than this one; the backdrop of the magnificent and imposing Table Mountain on one side and the wide open Atlantic on the other. I ordered an iced coffee and sat in the sunshine overlooking the RYC and its yachts and boats, and imagined all of us getting ready to depart all those years ago.
Dates: I was in Cape Town in January 2026.
The port road at the Cape Town Docks 
The entrance to the RYC 
View of Table Mountain from RYC 
The jetty at RYC in Cape Town where Scally was moored 
The Royal Yacht Club Cape Town -
South Africa, Returning to Durban
Durban is located on the east coast of Africa, on the Indian Ocean. This is where I was born, went to school, lived happily and contentedly with my mom and dad, brothers, our maid Lizzie, grandparents, dogs and cats, and friends. We lived in a beautiful house in a very hilly and verdant village called Kloof about 25 kms inland from Durban. Durban is located in the province of KwaZulu Natal, where the Zulus, South Africa’s largest tribal nation, are from.
We all left permanently in 1982, when I was fifteen. I have been back twice as an adult, the most recent time in October 2025, to celebrate my thirtieth wedding anniversary. We stayed at Umhlanga Rocks, just north of the city of Durban and fell asleep every night to the sounds of the Indian Ocean pounding the shore. It is the most stunning and beautiful place.
Thanks to my mother, we connected with her cousin Joy, my second cousin, who also grew up in South Africa and her lovely son Myles and daughter in law Ali, whom we met on the day her first baby was due. We had tea and sandwiches together on the veranda of the hotel overlooking the ocean. “What are your plans for your sabbatical?,” asked Joy, curiously.
It’s a question I’ve been asked multiple times over the last half a year, but, apart from very few people, not really answered in any depth, till now. “I’m planning to revisit all of our ports of call from our trip on Scally forty three years ago,” I replied, with my carefully rehearsed answer. “And, write the tale of the journey.”
Dates: I was in Durban in October 2025.
the beach at Umhlanga, looking south 
The beach in Durban 
North Beach in Durban 
A rickshaw on the esplanade in Durban 
North Beach in Durban 
The esaplande in Durban 
The esplanade at Durban -
Switzerland, Announcement of my sabbatical
I am extremely fortunate and privileged in having been granted three months’ sabbatical at the beginning of 2026. Most of you will know that I lecture and also head a small administrative team in International Relations at a local University in central Switzerland. A sabbatical is typically a leave of absence, relieving lecturers from regular teaching and administrative duties to focus on professional development activities, including travelling or writing. I will be doing both.
For me, what this means is a deeply personal journey into the past, starting in Southern Africa. My sabbatical will take me back to my roots, to where I was born and raised on the eastern coast of South Africa, where I lived till I was almost sixteen, to a story of a long and epic journey on the Atlantic Ocean with my father, mother and three brothers, ending with where I am today. I am thankful. I am filled with gratitude.
Dates:
I applied in late May 2025 and was lucky to be approved in June 2025.