South Atlantic capital city has a unique charm
People speak of ‘valley experiences’ to denote a tough time when a sense of desperation might feel appropriate. On the island of St Helena, such metaphors are ill-advised, as the place is about 72% valley, and pretty much everyone is warm and friendly.
Jamestown, the capital (population 600 and change, but officially a city because Queen Victoria said so), is a small town because it has no choice. It is very narrow, its scale restricted by the steep mountains on either side, and relatively long – apparently exactly a mile from the sea’s edge to the hospital near the top of the occupied part of the slope, but who’s counting steps? Right at the top of the valley is a waterfall that bisects a rock formation shaped like a heart, which is called the Heart Shaped Waterfall, because sometimes simplicity is best.
Everything is compact. The houses and shops have their frontage on one of the two roads. That’s usually the original part of the building, but as the residents’ families grow or move in with them from elsewhere on the island, more structures are erected around a central square, making them look a little like a Roman domus, minus all the stuff that caused the decline of the Empire. This way of doing things means there are often multiple generations of the same family in the same spot, which adds greatly to the culture of the town, with visitors often interacting with kids and parents and grandparents in different contexts during a stay.
Along certain stretches of pavement, there are a number of cars of all kinds with completely flat tyres and other signs of obvious neglect. Asking around, it becomes clear that this is one of the many areas of life here directly affected by St Helena’s remoteness. If something breaks, a new part takes months to get delivered from whichever far-off continent it was sourced, often taking a cruise all the way from China before it reaches its destination and hopefully solves the problem.
Access to the Ages
There are a relatively high number of grocery stores for such a small town, many of them owned by the Thorpe family, whose name is on a number of properties around the island. The population is equally well served by churches, with a range of denominations represented up and down the slope of the main road. One of their stores is called the ‘Emporium’. It feels like a prop for a Harry Potter movie, with a tiny frontage but extending an enormous distance away from the road, with stock to cover any imaginable eventuality.
In one of the cliff walls, there’s an enormous hollow – a cave that, it transpires, is a quarry; the reminder of the labours of the migrant workforce who lived on nearby China Lane.
Down at the bottom of the hill is Jamestown’s oldest area. It’s dominated by Saint James’ Church, with an 18th-century structure on the site where a much older version – the original church and the island’s first building – was built at the beginning of the 1500s. Just behind the church, offering a contrast in tone, is the prison. There is also an excellent museum across the square from the castle built by the British when they assumed control of St Helena. This fortification now serves as the government offices, and an archive on the lower floor is a wonderful resource for visitors who may suspect they have some sort of connection to the island and its history – including South Africans whose ancestors may have been among the prisoners of war sent here after the Boer War. All of these attractions – along with the 699-step lung-buster that is Jacob’s Ladder, the ascent of which is more or less a rite of passage for tourists – are within barely 100 meters of each other, so for the culture buff, hardly any energy need be expended to explore a couple of centuries of history.
The harbour, accessed via an arch in the city’s old defensive wall that until recently determined the maximum size of objects that could be imported (including the blades of a group of wind turbines set up inland), is small, offering just a short but scenic promenade. And even though stark promontories on either side take much of the sting out of the incoming South Atlantic, the thump of waves against the rocks beneath the wharf is still a visceral reminder of the scale and power of the sea.
Dining and Dealing
Anne’s Place, at the back of the Castle Gardens, which provide a pleasing view as you eat, is a restaurant now run by the daughter-in-law of its eponymous founder, with Anne’s grandkids waiting tables. It has a simple layout with a concept to match: walk in, look at the menu of the day on the whiteboard at the end of the bar, order your meal and drink there, and take your seat. Eat here often enough during your stay and you’ll see a hefty chunk of the Jamestown community, from well-known locals to doctors working in town on short contracts, crew from yachts stopping over on trans-Atlantic voyages, and other travellers from around the world, some of whom you’ll already have crossed paths with during your exploration of the town.
The fare here is simple but very tasty and generously served – perfect for a long, chatty dinner as you begin to cement new friendships. Some of the dishes are also a reminder of the Cape Malay heritage that informs part of South Africa’s culinary heritage. Ships travelling on the spice route from England to the East made regular stops at St Helena, particularly before Cape Town was fully established. You may also find that the menu reflects more than one part of this history, such as when lamb curry is offered with slices of roast beef on the side!
You can end both your evening and your condensed adventure with a drink at the bar of the Mantis St Helena Hotel, across the road from the entrance to the Castle Gardens, and be served by a South African barman, depending on who’s on shift. And if you’re not staying upstairs, everywhere in town is close enough to walk back to.
Text and photography | Bruce Dennill
For more information, go to sthelenatourism.com. To book a stay at the Mantis St Helena Hotel, go to mantiscollection.com.
