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Royal Mail Ship - St Helena

As three long blasts from the ship's whistle echoed throughout Jamestown and bounced up the valley to our flat, we raced to a bluff overlooking the vast, uninterrupted Atlantic Ocean.

Below us, the doughty RMS St Helena was already fading into the horizon - a barely distinguishable speck of colour against an otherwise monotone ocean. We watched our only link to the outside world disappear, leaving us in splendid isolation on St Helena island.

Inconveniently located in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean, this 47-square-mile British colony is 1200 miles from Africa, 1800 miles from South America and lacks an airport, making it as remote as a place can be today.

The 128-passenger Royal Mail Ship St Helena is the only regular caller, delivering all of the island's cargo, visitors and returning residents. Visitors are left to spend a week on the island while the RMS makes a shuttle run to Ascension Island, so the entire voyage becomes as much about the island experience as the ship.

Embarking the ship in Cape Town allowed me five nights at sea to enjoy her comforts before reaching St Helena. Immediately apparent was the fact that people use the ship as transportation.

Fellow passengers included families returning to visit relatives and government officials arriving to take up their posts. On my sailing were both the Governor and Bishop of the island, who were returning from leave, a school teacher heading home after a year in Britain, and a group of students returning from overseas sporting competitions. Pure tourists, with no connection to the island, were few: only seven of us were on board.

Virtually the entire ship is open, including the bridge, and passengers can arrange visits to the engine room. Most of the cargo is carried in containers and it was fascinating to find out what was on board to get an idea of the island's needs.

Everything from food to new cars and clothes was being transported: there was even a livestock pen for the occasional pig, bull or dog.

Entertainment is often self-started or low-key. Instead of a Cruise Director, the ship's two venerable pursers run the show and employ many of the tricks learned during their career with the Union-Castle Line. The aft deck is used for traditional deck games ranging from shuffleboard and quoits to volleyball or even cricket, while movies and quizzes are common.

At night, activities can range from the conventional, like darts or bingo, to the downright jovial and fun, like wooden frog racing or skittles. These communal games draw large crowds and in virtually all activities, the ship's personable crew and officers are encouraged to join in the fun.

There are two simple lounges on board and non-smokers will sometimes find it hard to escape the fumes. Cabins are small and spartan but perfectly adequate, while budget accommodation, some with a communal bathroom, is available for Saints (as the St Helena locals are called) and the fiscally conservative.

There's a small pool on the aft deck, with plenty of deckchairs for watching the ocean go by or reading. An attractive dining saloon in the bottom of the ship serves good food in two sittings and, in keeping with tradition, a few nights are formal with a jacket requested. A limited breakfast and lunch buffet are also served in the sun lounge.

These days at sea with the St Helena locals were a wonderful introduction to the island. Before leaving home I was asked, 'What will you do for a week?' I found there was more than enough to do. Beautiful, geographically varied, historically significant and socially fascinating, St Helena is not just for pensioners who want to add another stamp to their passport.

The island's sometimes precarious but dramatic seaside hikes and heart-stoppingly steep and twisty roads makes it equally suited to a more adventurous, younger set. Botanists and bird watchers covet trips here because of an abundance of endemic plants and animals, and history buffs appreciate the island's vital role in supplying ships of the past as well as playing host to Napoleon during his second exile.

It only takes a few minutes to walk through Jamestown, nestled in a protected valley, and debate climbing the precipitous 699 steps to the top of Jacob's Ladder from the bottom of town. After visiting the small museum, head to Napoleons house, Longwood, before venturing into the countryside for a hike.

The hike to Diana's Peak, the highest point on St Helena, is recommended as you get a panoramic view of the entire island from the top. Or simply drive around the island, witness the stunning variety in landscapes and gain a sense of being completely removed from the rest of the world.

The scenery is enchanting, the people wonderful and the island life enriching. I felt more like a welcomed and curious guest rather than a tourist as I become assimilated and immersed in island life and gossip.

I soon learned that the island is at an important crossroad in its history: a proposed airport and hotel has generated strong, mixed emotions and having recently been given full British passports, many of the 3,900 Saints are quickly leaving to find better jobs. Locals can also tell you who on the island has the lowest number on their license plate and where to shop after the RMS has unloaded her cargo so that the store shelves are replenished.

Even buying bread has a twist: you have to order your loaf a day in advance and pick it up the following morning. The same was true of restaurants - call a day ahead not so that you can reserve a seat but so the chef can buy the food and the restaurant will be open!

The island is quiet, certainly, but life there seems full, important and definitely not lonely. And while it feels almost untouched by modern times, do not delay in visiting: those plans for an airport are fast approaching reality. While there are different estimates as to its completion date, expect the island to be connected in approximately 2008 - and significantly changed.

While sailing away, I joined the crowd watching the island fade in our wake. Many of them were residents who were leaving for the first time and had left a tearful crowd waving at the dock. They knew how special St Helena is and I realised how remarkably attached I had become to the place in only a week.

While sad to leave I took comfort that such a place continues to exist incongruously in the 21st century and hoped desperately that it would survive and remain unchanged in the future.