Wild Swimming in the Isles of Scilly
During the height of summer, in an attempt to escape the crowds of holiday makers, we took off on a week-long adventure. We left on a boat, in search of the last truly wild places in Cornwall, the Isles of Scilly.
Words by Max Campbell
International travel seems like a vague memory. It’s rare to meet someone that’s been abroad in the last few months, and why would you want to? The idea of adding the strict regulations of the pandemic into the already stressful situation of flying makes international travel about as appealing as swimming through a smack of jellyfish.
It’s clear why Cornwall has had its busiest summer on record. The staycation trend has led to a surge in seasonal holiday makers. We often swim before 7am, and we’ve still struggled to escape the crowds. In the first week of August, stifled by the congested roads and packed beaches, we spot a weather window. We grasp it, and take our chance to explore the last wild place in Cornwall, the Isles of Scilly.
Morning swims from Flying Cloud
How to Get There
The Scillies are accessible by both ferry and plane thanks to Isles of Scilly Travel. Smaller boats run from the main island, St Marys, to the other four inhabited Islands: Tresco, St Agnes, St Martin and Bryher . There are also a handful of uninhabited islands, and they are the locations that entice us.
I’m lucky, because I have access to a cute little sailing boat. Flying Cloud, my old boat, was my home for a couple of years. She’s a 22’ mahogany sloop, built in 1965 and is both elegant and seaworthy. The pandemic has led to her owner being stuck in New Zealand. He's a nice guy, and has very kindly given me permission to use her for the summer.
The Voyage Out
We sail out of Falmouth on a sunny morning – the wind is stiff and from the northwest. As we glide past Pendennis Point the wind dies and we set the spinnaker. It's a big blue sail that fills like a kite when the wind’s from behind. We slip past the manacles, and are joined by a pod of dolphins who play in the bow wave. The water is a deep, empty blue, broken up by the occasional compass jellyfish.
We swing round the Lizard, and meet the sweeping expanse of the Atlantic. There's a waving fin in the water to starboard, it’s a sunfish! We wave back at the weirdest fish to swim in all five oceans. Penzance is upwind of us now, and we spend the afternoon tacking along the south coast. We sail past some of my favourite beaches; Kynance, Poldhu, Rinsey and Praa Sands. There’s something curious about watching these places drift past from the water.
We wake to a foggy morning, in an anchorage in front of St Michael's Mount. The gothic castle stares down at us through the mist, and the overwhelming stillness adds to the eeriness of the situation. After taking it in turns to use the toilet (a bucket), we retrieve our anchor and head west across Mount’s Bay.
The crossing from Penzance to Scillies takes us about seven hours
The 30 mile crossing to the Scillies takes us about seven hours. Although there’s a bit of chop we manage to stay dry. The visibility is bad, and for a few hours, we completely lose sight of land.
In the late afternoon, faint silhouettes of islands appear on the horizon. Within an hour of spotting them, we pass the rugged and uninhabited Eastern Isles. I’m struck by the raw beauty of the scenery. Seabirds weave between granite formations, and in front of us the archipelago opens up to reveal a countless collection of small islands and rock formations. We tack between the islands, making our way to St Helens Pool, a large, sheltered anchorage between the islands of Tean, St Helens and Tresco. We anchor next to my family, on their big blue fishing boat Marie. Lydia changes into her swimming costume and leaps off the side of the boat, making the most of the fading light. The setting sun drenches everything in a soft orange glow.
Sunset over the uninhabited island of Samson
Wild Swimming in the Scillies
It's a misty morning. Two days ago we last set foot on land, and we’re feeling compelled to explore the nearby uninhabited islands. The thick fog fails to mask the beauty of the landscape. We grab our swimming kit and row to St Helens, a small, dome shaped island showcasing a collection of ruins. The island had once been a quarantine site for those who had caught the plague in the 1700's.
The bleached sand is pristine, and the water is clear. I’m struck by the stillness of the situation, there’s nobody else around. We could stay here all day without being disturbed. The water is cool compared to the mainland. It’s refreshing, and the challenging sail here makes it even more rewarding.
A foggy swim on St Helens, one of the most picturesque and untouched islands in the archipelago
Later that day, we meet up with the rest of my family on another uninhabited island, Teän. We create a mural from the myriad of seashells washed up on the shoreline. We swim again in the evening, this time from the boat, before sharing a meal of mackerel and lobster that my sister and her friend had caught the previous day.
The next day, we move Flying Cloud to St Marys and meet up with a friend of mine, Jake Buchanan. He takes us for a tour of the islands on his speedboat Fanny. We spend the afternoon on St Martin, impressed by the panoramic views and subtropical fauna. We return after sunset, the stillness is unbelievable. There’s a magical trail of vibrant green as we skim over the phosphorescence. We can’t resist stripping off and swimming around within the sparkles.
Another breathtaking sunset
Crew Change
The next day Lydia and Beth leave on the Scillonian, and Lily arrives. We sail over to Samson, the largest of the uninhabited islands. Samson was once home to a population of forty, and the remains of their heavy built granite cottages still gaze out into the Atlantic.
The fog lifts and the sun breaks through the cloud; we spend a couple of days fishing, wake boarding and netting for shrimps. I feel more connected with the natural world than I have in months, and it’s hard to believe we’re still in Cornwall.
Theres something very inviting about Scilly’s unbelievably clear water
We move to the Eastern Isles for the last two nights. We catch a pollock, and enjoy our fresh dinner whilst sailing through the islands. The sun sets over Tresco, and the thin afternoon light accentuates the highs and lows of the scenery.
The Eastern Isles are wild and remote, made up of three small islands and a handful of rocky clusters. There’s a thriving population of grey seals, who stalk us with beady eyes from a rocky outcrop. We spend the last day exploring Great Ganilly. It's untamed, with a towering granite ridge which gives sweeping views over the entire archipelago. There’s a white-sandy beach, almost pristine apart from a pile of washed up plastic. We enjoy one last swim in the shining blue water.
The Scillies are probably the only place in Cornwall where you can find empty beaches during the height of summer
Sailing Home
The next morning, at 6am, we leave. The 60 NM sail back to the mainland takes us around 16 hours. We spend a few hours becalmed around the manacles, before making the most of a light breeze that carries us back to Mylor.
It’s reassuring to be reminded that there are still wild places, waiting for anyone with enough adventurous spirit to seek them out. Visiting the islands by sail has got to be the best way to fully appreciate their natural beauty as well as providing a more sustainable means of travel. It’s an incredible way to witness the natural world. A means of exploring new places, without compromising the environment through air miles. It’s slower, more exciting, more about the journey – allowing a real appreciation of everything between the destination and home.
However, for those who don’t have access a sailing boat, the Scillonian means you can still discover the beauty of the Scilly Isles for yourself.
Wild places in the Eastern Isles
