I have just returned from a week’s holiday on the Isles of Scilly, five inhabited and numerous uninhabited islands 30 miles off the southwest tip of Cornwall, England.
This is one of the world’s most beautiful spots, its population numbering approximately 2,000, some of which live in Hell on the island of Bryher.
On my one other visit to the Isles of Scilly, I did not get to Bryher, but I did this time as I and a friend searched for a North American species of bird called a Buff-breasted sandpiper.
Birders flock to these isles in October searching for rarities, which at this time of year on their migration can be blown dramatically off course to the fringes of other continents.
A small island with a population of only 85, Bryher can be doubled by one boat full of tourists coming in twice a day from the main island, St. Mary’s. Bryher is the smallest of the inhabited islands, and cars are almost nonexistent. Bryher is one of the most westerly inhabited places in the United Kingdom and thus perhaps the first land a tired, hungry, waylaid bird would settle.
In the 1980s and 1990s, these islands would be besieged by birders, and even though numbers have gone down — many now prefer to bird the Shetland Isles to the far north of Scotland — hotel rooms and other accommodation options remain in high demand.
Hell has one of the best hotels on the islands, if not the best, the Hell Bay Hotel. I passed it — actually perhaps wrongfully stepped into its grounds — searching for an American golden plover, another rarity that we did not find.
The Hell Bay Hotel's 25 suites sit between the Atlantic Ocean — or at least a sheltered section between the isles — and a small pool that is the only pool on the island and thus called The Pool.
On the search for the sandpiper, we trooped up Shipman Head Down, turning around for great views of the hotel.
On the other side of Shipman Head is a place called Badplace Hill, while on the coast to its east is a spot called Hangman Island and to the southwest a small promontory called Droppy Nose Point. But I swear the entire island is an utterly delightful spot. It measures 1.2 miles by 0.6 miles. On the island’s highest spot, some 140 feet high, we found the bird, and what a beautiful thing that is, too.
I have met other residents of Hell in the Cayman Islands. There, Hell looks more like Hell.
On Grand Cayman, Hell is a small, circular area comprised of weathered but still fiendishly sharp, bleached-white limestone formations that it would be extreme folly to try and cross.
Surrounding shops do a brisk business selling clichéd T-shirts with slogans such as “When my [add either “wife” or “husband”] said [s/he] was going to the Caymans, I told [him/her] to go to Hell” and coffee mugs stating the drinker has been to Hell and back.
Letters can be postmarked from Hell Post Office, so not only can you go to Hell, but you can also send correspondence from there, too.
It is likely the place got its name because it resembles how many of us might picture Hell, but fortunately it is close to many fine hotels, while Bryher’s Hell derives its name from the Old English for the word “hill” or because of the treacherous rocks off its west coast that sunk many a ship.
If I had to go to Hell, I believe I would select the Bryher version.
The opinions expressed in this column do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Hotel News Now or CoStar Group and its affiliated companies. Bloggers published on this site are given the freedom to express views that may be controversial, but our goal is to provoke thought and constructive discussion within our reader community. Please feel free to contact an editor with any questions or concern.