So tantalisingly close to Lands End but so elusive, even to local sailors, the Isles of Scilly is sometimes as tough to get to as the granite that forms it. It is certainly not a perfect paradise, but it can be pretty damn close at times. Its all a matter of seeing the beauty, and being prepared to sometimes tough it out amongst the challenges that its remoteness and exposure to the ocean provides. You don’t have to get there by sailing boat, but if you do ‘earn your stripes’ by making the passage from mainland Cornwall to the islands out in the Atlantic, then there are both rewards and ‘experiences’ in equal measure.
As Tallulah’s skipper I have been coming here by pilot cutter for over 25 years. As a destination it totally gets under my skin and draws me back every year, but it has also tested me a few times and ‘spat me out’ and sent me home more than once, in search of safer waters.
Last week (July 2025) we were lucky with the weather, but things still happen. This is a weeks holiday for intrepid travellers, not total lounge lizards. If you want to spend a week island hopping in the Scillies and living on a boat at anchor, sometimes you can switch off in sublime scenery, but there are plenty of occasions when you also have to switch on.
2026 Isles of Scilly Voyages
The sun beats down…and the fog sweeps in
As a skipper I know not to celebrate when the winds are calm and high pressure moves in. Its going to be perfect says the mate. I grumble something about fog, but the full moon rises over the Helford River, the skies are crystal clear and all looks good for a 60 mile passage in easy seas.
At 5am it is the perfect time to leave for a good head start with a 7-8 hour tidal shunt westwards. Its a long day but this week we intend to get to St Agnes to see the sunset with a pint of Turks Head Ale in hand. Predictably its thick fog with damp decks when we arise. Tallulah crew nervously set off, pretty confident it will clear. We sneak around the Lizard Point and set a course North of Wolf Rock lighthouse to miss the bigger shipping. The mainsail and topsail are set in hope. The winds are fickle. Billy Beta the engine does most the work as the sun comes out as and we cross glassy seas. At least we will reach the islands without tacking into Atlantic swell and the normal prevailing winds. Numb bums are relieved by sloshing the decks with cool seawater – which keeps below decks cooler too. Must be a heatwave on the mainland but we are lapping it up.
Perfect sea swimming – few fresh water showers
The sea is our bath, our ice bucket and our daily refresher. The fresh water we carry is too precious for long showers, and the islanders guard their underwater aquifers well from over indulgent tourists and visiting yachts. The bountiful, crystal clear sea tempts us in daily, sometimes more than once. We just can’t get enough of swimming with seals, wading through shallows, and covering our bare feet with glittery mica sand.
This July we towed our wooden rowing boat with us as the forecast looked fine. As skipper I love having a row boat that takes all 8 of us ashore in one go. We can row and look stylish, or use the silent electric engine to reach some very special places. We swim off the white sands of uninhabited islands like Sampson. Just us and the birds.
The sounds of wildlife are strident and wild
Until August several islands and rocks are out of bounds to protect the breeding birds, so we are often anchoring in a nature reserve. Ian reveals an app on his phone that can identify every bird call and we all become avid twitchers. I’ve spent many a wildlife safari with local bird expert Will Wagstaff, so I just take photos and enjoy being woken up by the oystercatchers and terns. A dawn chorus of wild screeches as loud as car alarms and a sun so bright at 7am you need shades. Seals slip through the kelp forests.
Tales of Shipwreck and Our little Rescue
On St Agnes the little Church at Pergilis Cove tells tales of heroic rescues. Gig boats carried across islands to row to shipwrecked square riggers on the Western and Northern Reefs. What an appalling wrecking ground in the days before GPS and depth sounders.
On the first evening ashore we are treated to a local gig boat race with hordes of tanned female rowers descending on the Turks Head pub. The maritime heritage is there for my multinational crew to see, and it doesn’t take much imagination to think what it must have been like to set forth in a 32ft rowing boat with 5mm planking between you and the rocks on some desperate rescue.
On our third night we end up being part of a real rescue. Anchored off Sampson we can see both the sunset and a fog bank rolling in from behind. A bunch of local lads in a speed boat head out into danger. Luckily they have enough sense to turn back and we encourage the lightly clad teenagers to tie alongside Tallulah as the visability reduces to 40 metres and the night closes in. We offer them tea and recharge their phones and discuss fog navigation tactics, whilst giving their parents in St Marys time to regroup and organise a rescue. True sons of boatmen, they know its serious out there, despite being keen to set off on a fog adventure. We stall them long enough for James the skipper of Falcon (and father of Archie) who wizzes out to rescue them. Even with radar it takes a while to find us amongst rocks, sand banks and about 10 other yachts at anchor. The kids love tooting the foghorn, Tallulahs navigation lights are trying to burn through the fog, and we all shout for our local knight in shining armour, who finds us after a tour around several other yachts.
Tide faster than you can sail, or sailing faster than you can navigate
The distances between anchorages are not far but the pilotage between the hazards is complex and intricate. If we want to sail a pilotage plan, then the whole crew needs to be switched on. If we just want to look pretty sailing in St Marys Sound or round the edges of the archipelago, the we either have to sail slowly int the tidal races and look magnificent (and catch Mackerel or Pollock)….or we sail with the tide and risk getting swept along faster than we want. if the winds are light you can end up like a ‘Pooh stick in a river’ – no steerage and no wind in the sails.
Big Tidal Ranges bring logistical challenges
What an unfolding tapestry for artists. One minute you are anchored in a lonely blue sea. The tide drops 5 metres and we have a pilot cutter sheltered in a giant rock pool with rocks and sandy bars all around.
Our rowing boat carries an anchor , so we tow a SUP (paddleboard) and row the 16ft wooden tender right upto the beach. Its always a socks off moment to get ashore. Sometimes you need shorts too.
The mate or skipper, rows the boat out into deeper water to anchor and wizzes back to the beach with something much lighter to lug up the beach. I prefer to stand and paddle the SUP to recover the dinghy, even fully clothed after a trip to the pub. Anthony prefers to use giant surfers hands to kneel and propel himself along in the moon light to recover the anchored dinghy. One day we will fall in….but not yet.
Are you up for a Scilly Expedition? – Tallulah 2026 dates are out now…
Tallulah 2026 Scilly Expeditions
