A Deserted Island

Who wouldn’t want to go to a deserted island?

Tom Hanks’ character in Castaway? Piggy from Lord of the Flies? Fans of Lost? Well I’m none of these fictional characters so I’ve always wanted to camp on a deserted island. After scoping out how far we could get in my pals speedboat we settled on this particular little island. It met all the requirements - a beach, fresh water and no people. Not that I’m going to tell you where it is. That’s a secret. I’m sure you could work out where it is if you really wanted to. I’ll give you a clue - it’s surrounded by water and you can see Jura from it. 

I say speedboat. This makes it seem more glamorous than it is. It’s called The Admiral. Or Scabby to those in the know. It looks great from a distance: Sleek, modern and cool but close up, it shows it’s age. It’s a bit of a wreck actually. Like it’s owner. Boom boom. 

The Scabby Admiral carried us, our gear, food and the dog at high speed, skipping over a flat calm sea to the deserted island. Once there we indulged in the usual pursuits of trying to fish, building driftwood fires on the beach and cooking steak on a hot rock. Try it, it’s bloody good! 

The island itself was very interesting, and without the shoulder height bracken and clouds of midges it would be a great place to explore - we will definitely return in the autumn once both of these have gone. It’s an unusual island with some fantastic mature woodland, particularly the three trees by our campsite which were magnificent specimens. 

However, the most striking thing about the island was the stillness. On the first night, lying in my tent I didn’t hear a thing. Not a flutter of birds, not a rustle of wind, not a ripple of water.

Just complete and total silence.