Sundown from Star Castle
All my favourite pictures this month are from the magical Isles of Scilly – an archipelago of five inhabited and more than 140 uninhabited islands, 28 miles off the southwestern tip of Cornwall. My first adventure was to climb the hill (one of few) up to Star Castle on St Mary’s, not just to take in the fabulous view, but also to watch the bi-weekly gig race, on this occasion from Nut Rock to St Mary’s harbour. Pilot gig racing is a long-standing tradition in the Islands, stemming from the days incoming ships needed help from local pilots to navigate the treacherous waters. As the boats raced, the sun set, with shafts of golden light catching the rocks in their path.
Cosmos on Tresco
Described as Kew without the glass, Tresco Abbey Garden is a must-visit place for me in Scilly. Established by Augustus Smith in the 19th century around the ruins of a Benedictine Abbey, the garden now hosts an extraordinary array of exotic plants, which flourish on a small island in the Atlantic thanks to the mild climate of Scilly and Smith’s strategic planting. What caught my eye on this particular visit, however, was the cottage garden, buzzing with insects, brimming with edibles, such as fat, orange pumpkins, and interweaved with cosmos and other garden flowers.
Cowrie out and about
Searching for cowrie shells on the idyllic sandy beaches of Scilly must be one of the best holiday pastimes, but to find one with a living inhabitant is a rare treat indeed. This spotted cowrie was crawling along the seaweed fronds near New Grimsby quay on Tresco. Beneath its distinctive, ribbed shell, bearing three diffuse dark spots (you can see just the front one in my picture), the soft body parts of the snail emerge. The black and white mantle wraps over the hard shell to protect and maintain it, while a tube-like siphon extends to enable water flow between the sea and the mantle cavity. Hidden from my camera, at the base of each short, sensory tentacle, lies a small, black eye.
Seven-armed starfish...
True to its name, the seven-armed starfish usually has seven arms, each fringed with characteristic white spines. If any limbs are damaged or deliberately shed to escape the clutches of predators, they may regrow. I’m not sue whether this individual had an extra arm from the start or was a little too enthusiastic in regrowing one that was lost. A super-low tide revealed it moving speedily through the shallows between the islands of Tresco and Bryher, no doubt hoping to satisfy its appetite for other starfish, brittle stars and sea urchins. As it raised one arm, I got a good view of the tube feet aiding its locomotion.
Stranded kelp
Another perk of a big spring tide is the chance to enjoy a long walk on St Martin’s Flats and explore the lowest parts of the shore. The most fun thing was the unexpected jets of water bursting up from beneath me, as razor shells responded to my footsteps by rapidly withdrawing deeper into their vertical burrows, shooting water upwards as they went. On the exposed sand bar sprawled this fan of furbelows, a large kelp species, its bulbous, warty holdfast most likely torn from the rocks in recent storms. The stipe attached to the holdfast is convoluted at the base, possibly to reduce the impact of strong waves, and gives way to broad, flat fronds. Coated in mucus, these can be pretty slippery, making it hard for other life forms to attach, but now, at the end of the summer, the ribbons had lost much of their shine.
Sea rocket
A remote protrusion of fine white sand, known as Bar Point, lies at the most northerly tip of St Mary’s. It was an enticing spot to spend a little time searching for shells, while on a round-the-island walk, though alas, no cowries this time. The beach was dotted with clumps of sea rocket, some thriving, others suffering from some severe munching (the furthest patch seems to have succumbed). The culprits turned out to be the hungry, yellow-striped caterpillars of the large white butterfly. They proved tricky to photograph close up in the fresh sea breeze, but you can glimpse one high up in the foreground clump; other nearby plants bore many more. Shooting from a low angle to convey a sense of the wider landscape brought home how low-lying the islands are – and how vulnerable they must be to sea-level rise.
Fabulous photos!
You’ve captured some fabulous creatures there - never seen a cowrie shell inhabitant!