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The Spirit of Bermuda I was the only one not to have travelled the road before. The convoy signalled left and pulled to a stop in a lay-by in order that I could glimpse the view. Looking beyond the wooden railings and past the scrub lining the hill as it swept downwards, my jaw, quite spontaneously and uncontrollably, dropped.
The others smiled, nodded, and pulled back onto the road in a classical "told you so" manner.
The coastline of Bermuda is unforgettable.
Its sand is tinged pink, a colour created by a miniature sea coral, which breaks up and spreads itself across the shore. It is so fine it feels like silk beneath your bare feet. The water so turquoise and clear you can see the shipwrecks on the shallow ocean floor, snorkelling from 20 feet above. Rusty bows stick out of the sea, crabs scuttling through the portholes, hiding from curious kayakers paddling past. Some are completely submerged, paddle wheels lying collapsed at their sides; ancient cargo long ago spilled along the rotten wooden decks, some remaining in their original boxes and crates.
Our snorkel guide dives down and retrieves an armful of old bottles covered in the pink coral, which will sink beneath sunbathers toes in a few decades time. These bottles held penicillin when the boat went down, a drug which had only just been invented. Story has it that rather than waste it, it was sucked off the ocean floor, re-bottled and sold. But only after the other commodity nearly lost was retrieved - Scotch whisky. When the rescue team from Bermuda reached the stranded sailors, they were bemused by the men's apparent insistence that the liquor should be saved first. The seamen returned to shore on the second run.
An indication of the spirit of Bermuda from long ago.
Perched alone in the Atlantic, more than 500 miles from the land mass of America, and almost as far from its nearest Caribbean neighbour, Bermuda is reputed to be the island of "The Tempest", Shakespeare having gleaned inspiration for his play after news of the most famous of the islands shipwrecks reached British shores.
That was the Sea Venture which ran a-ground and broke up in 1609 whilst Shakespeare's friend, Sir George Somers, was on his happy way to Virginia to carry on colonisation there. More than 100 years earlier, a Spanish explorer, Juan Bermœdez, had found the island first and duly named it, but decided it wasn't really worth staying. Upon first glance, neither did Somers and his crew, but when no rescue arrived, they had little choice but to make the best of it. Low and behold they discovered Bermuda was a pretty nice island after all. The crew built two ships from Bermuda's abundant cedar wood in order to sail onto their original destination, but British colonists returned a short time later, and Bermuda's social history began in earnest.
Unlike the Shakespeare play, this is not a land filled with evil spirits and monsters. The spirit of Bermuda is very special indeed. It is a thriving island, population 60,000, one of the few remaining true British colonies with parish names like "Somerset", "Devonshire", "Southampton", "Warwick", "Pembroke" and "St. George's", but in reality, dependent on little from the mother-land than security at times of war and cruise ships loaded with tourist visitors. Over 600,000 come every year from the UK and the rest of the world to experience this unique place.
The 'island' is actually a series of 180 names bodies of land, though only 20 are inhabited and the biggest is only 14 miles long, with the principal seven linked by causeways and bridges. Its population is entirely self-sufficient, at least in a social sense. Virtually everyone on the island who wants to work, does so. And if you don't, well don't expect lots of benefits because there are none.
Most own their own homes or rent very nice ones, the streets are as pristine as the glorious beaches, and most refreshing of all, the people are just so polite. 'Hi' is regarded as an insult in the street. Rather, a respectable greeting will be 'Good (insert time of day)' or most often 'How are you today?'. There is low crime here, a bonus that Bermuda has over some of its Caribbean rivals.
Once famed for its flavoursome onions, before the Americans started marketing 'Bermuda onions' grown in the middle of Texas; now the islands main income comes from these tourists who arrive every Sunday and Tuesday for a few days of exploring.
Of course the Bermuda short also adds to the islands individuality. These are not, as we were conned into believing in the '80's, brightly coloured monstrosities of beach attire, but rather a perfectly tailored garment in navy blue, black or grey, measured to an exact length above the knee. Half an inch out will be severely frowned upon.
It's common to see businessmen and office workers at lunch-time sporting suit jacket, shirt and tie, with Bermuda shorts, long socks, and respectable black polished shoes. Most often they're cruising through town on scooters, the preferred mode of transport here.
Car numbers are strictly limited on the island and you have to have a good reason for having one if you live there, but it's much nicer anyway to hop on a scooter and have the air cooling your face on a hot day. Whereas you cannot rent a car, tourists can hire scooters for the duration of their trip and it is a fun way to see the island. It's illegal to ride one without a helmet, shirt or with bare feet. But then it's apparently illegal to sound your horn in Bermuda - the sound of honking is incessant as you stroll through the town streets. Most often it means 'hello mate', sometimes it means 'I'm coming through', and very rarely it's an indication of 'you've really ticked me off!'
Bermuda's bus service is also a good way to get around. They are both frequent and reliable and a variety of passes are available for the tourist. Often though, it's nice just to walk around, see the sights, and enjoy the amazing sweet smells of fragrant fruit trees.
The natural beauty of Bermuda is unquestionable. The beaches are some of the most photographed in the world, but it is so much more than just that. Devils Hole is a natural aquarium inhabited by tropical fish and giant Green Turtles; deep underground the Crystal Caves house chandelier-like stalactites and million year old stalagmites; and the botanical gardens are peaceful, perfumed and heavenly.
Its towns are both sublime and stately; each house seemingly picture-perfect with their white painted, stepped roof to channel rainwater into underground tanks. Hamilton, the capital, has its colonial-esc row of boutiques, souvenir shops and restaurants overlooking its wealthy harbour, its imposing City Hall often houses a good art display, and Sessions House, the seat of government, rises powerfully from its hill. At the eastern tip, St. George's, twinned with Lyme Regis - the birth place of Sir George Somers, has charming squares, alley ways and buildings, its historical town hall, an eerie unfinished cathedral, and Fort St. Catherine's, once inhabited by scores of British naval men, employed to keep the massive guns loaded - now only kayakers paddle by and pleasure boats cruise within the cannons' dormant range.
Evenings are fun but laid-back. Events like 'Harbour Nights' every Wednesday evening are a mix of traditional dancing and souvenir stalls. Bars and clubs sell Bermudian specialities like the Dark and Stormy - a surprisingly palatable mix of dark rum and ginger beer, and the Rum Swizzle - a fruity but strong punch. (It is traditional to check your bags into the airport before your flight home and take a quick taxi ride back to the 'Swizzle Inn' to enjoy one last drink to help you sleep on the 7-hour journey home.)
A traditional starting point on a Friday evening is the impossibly posh Hamilton Princess Hotel, where for $20 you can buy four tickets and exchange them for drinks at the makeshift bar in immaculate landscaped gardens, salt-water stream running under bridges and walkways, and the sun setting on the ocean behind. As much as anything, it is these snatches of the islands idiosyncrasy that is so alluring.
But the Spirit of Bermuda is eulogised best within one of the most famous figures on the island. If Johnny Barnes stood in the centre of Trafalgar Square he would most likely be arrested, or carted off to some psychiatric home. But on Bermuda he is loved, respected and immortalised in bronze. A retired bus driver, Johnny stands every weekday from 6 a.m. to 10 a.m. in the centre of a busy roundabout just outside Hamilton greeting the rush hour traffic and wishing that 'God bless them'.
In searing summer heat I went to say hello. He greeted me as if I had been an old friend he had not seen for years. I asked him why he did it, day in, day out. He replied that God wanted us to make people feel good. As the cars, scooters and buses honked their horns and passengers waved good morning, there was no doubt in my mind that God would be well pleased with Johnny Barnes.
Before I left, he insisted on saying a prayer. Two days before my return flight to Gatwick, and just 24 hours after the awful London bombings, I stood in the middle of a busy roundabout, my hands in Johnny's, as he prayed for my safe journey home and an end to all wars. A more sincere and spontaneous moment I cannot imagine, and one which deepened my reverence for this island and its people.
I urge you, get to Bermuda any way you can.
OK, it's not the cheapest of destinations. A flight will cost at least £500, and even a cheaper end B&B will cost a couple of hundred a week. Lunch will cost around $10, whilst dinner is more likely to be around $20 without wine or dessert. Drinks are also quite expensive, and everyone from the barman to the 10-year-old who packs your bags at the supermarket expects a 15% tip.
The average property price on Bermuda is $400,000 so it may not be somewhere you can afford to buy a second home. But if you're not lucky enough to have a friend who has just moved there as I was, consider the housesitting option. For the mere hindrance of keeping the place clean and tidy, or perhaps walking a dog a couple of times a day, you can live on the island for free. Numerous rich residents advertise on American websites for sitters, and if you're able to negotiate the internet, it could be you enjoying this unique sub-tropical utopia whilst Britain begins yet another winter freeze.
I repeat, get there any way you can.
As Mark Twain said, "You go to heaven if you want to. I'd rather stay here in Bermuda."