Admire the physical and mental stamina that allowed me to experience this isolation?  Don't.  If you would do anything to enjoy such a panorama, anything but get in shape, I have good news.  I've discovered a wilderness for slugs.  A place where, without breaking a sweat, I can stand high atop an ancient rock formation, turn 360 degrees and see no other living creature.  A place where the boots of earlier hikers have beaten trails through the rugged terrain that even I, an admitted loafer, can master.  A place called St Agnes, one of the five Isles of Scilly in the Atlantic Ocean, 28 miles off the southwest tip of England.

To reach this wilderness, I rolled my suitcase to a London-bound flight, an express train to Paddington, an overnight train to Pennzance, a van to the heliport, a helicopter to St Mary's (the big island), a van to the dock and a boat to St Agnes where my hosts waited with one of three vehicles on the island.  Sound like a big effort?  Compare those travels with a climb to isolation in the Rockies with a pack on your back.  Sound better?

Timing is key to the wildness experience on St Agnes.  In summer, the one-mile by two-mile island is chock-a-block with British beachgoers.  At season's end, birdwatchers arrive in flocks bigger than the birds'.  For solitude, visit St Agnes after the birders fly away at the end of October and before holiday makers return in April.  That's when I settle into a cottage on the grounds of the Parsonage B&B run by the Beresford-Smith family: Pam, Julian and William. 

Gulf Stream breezes keep the weather in Scilly moderate enough that local palm trees thrive and every afternoon is good for a walk. Despite the island's size, Pam, her son William and I make a dozen outings before repeating a trail.  On sunny days, we stretch out on boulders flattened by centuries of high tides and admire clouds floating across the wide sky.  On rainy days we hide in crevices and marvel at the raging sea.  On still days, we climb rocks and relish the views.  On any dry day, we pause to chat on one of the benches tucked into clearings along the trails.  We rarely see another human being.

After sunset, flashlights in hand, we travel the small circuit of paved paths across the island.  When we extinguish the lights, we see what compels the energetic to trek to the wilderness: more stars, planets and even satellites than I knew existed in our heavens.  Gazing skyward, I dream of hiking to exotic locales but know I will return to St Agnes, a wilderness everyone can enjoy.  Even a slug like me.

No sign of civilization mars my view from the summit of the ancient cairn.  When the wind sweeps across the downs and roars in my ears, I huddle between towering rocks and watch the ocean crash onto jagged shoreline.  Undisturbed, undiscovered, I am alone on the planet.  
The article below appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer on August 25, 2005.
A Wilderness for Slugs
Admire the physical and mental stamina that allowed me to experience this isolation?  Don't.  If you would do anything to enjoy such a panorama, anything but get in shape, I have good news.  I've discovered a wilderness for slugs.  A place where, without breaking a sweat, I can stand high atop an ancient rock formation, turn 360 degrees and see no other living creature.  A place where the boots of earlier hikers have beaten trails through the rugged terrain that even I, an admitted loafer, can master.  A place called St Agnes, one of the five Isles of Scilly in the Atlantic Ocean, 28 miles off the southwest tip of England.

To reach this wilderness, I rolled my suitcase to a London-bound flight, an express train to Paddington, an overnight train to Pennzance, a van to the heliport, a helicopter to St Mary's (the big island), a van to the dock and a boat to St Agnes where my hosts waited with one of three vehicles on the island.  Sound like a big effort?  Compare those travels with a climb to isolation in the Rockies with a pack on your back.  Sound better?

Timing is key to the wildness experience on St Agnes.  In summer, the one-mile by two-mile island is chock-a-block with British beachgoers.  At season's end, birdwatchers arrive in flocks bigger than the birds'.  For solitude, visit St Agnes after the birders fly away at the end of October and before holiday makers return in April.  That's when I settle into a cottage on the grounds of the Parsonage B&B run by the Beresford-Smith family: Pam, Julian and William. 

Gulf Stream breezes keep the weather in Scilly moderate enough that local palm trees thrive and every afternoon is good for a walk. Despite the island's size, Pam, her son William and I make a dozen outings before repeating a trail.  On sunny days, we stretch out on boulders flattened by centuries of high tides and admire clouds floating across the wide sky.  On rainy days we hide in crevices and marvel at the raging sea.  On still days, we climb rocks and relish the views.  On any dry day, we pause to chat on one of the benches tucked into clearings along the trails.  We rarely see another human being.

After sunset, flashlights in hand, we travel the small circuit of paved paths across the island.  When we extinguish the lights, we see what compels the energetic to trek to the wilderness: more stars, planets and even satellites than I knew existed in our heavens.  Gazing skyward, I dream of hiking to exotic locales but know I will return to St Agnes, a wilderness everyone can enjoy.  Even a slug like me.