You don’t need to fly halfway round the world for the remote bliss of sand-fringed islands, saturated with beauty

Climbing aboard a 19-seater twin-engine aircraft for a 15-minute flight isn’t usually how I start my holidays, but here I am at Land’s End Airport, a chilled-out space that couldn’t be further from the hectic chaos of any airport I’m used to, watching the pilot himself pop my bag into a tiny compartment under the nose of the plane. A plane so tiny that, when we’re seated, we could easily lean forward and shake his hand. After just minutes in the air, the Isles of Scilly come into view. 

There are some 140 islands – five of which are inhabited and surrounded by partially submerged rocks that have been responsible for countless historical shipwrecks. There’s something quite thrilling about arriving at St Mary’s, the largest island, before you’ve even had chance to properly settle into your seat. I remark to my friend (and fellow Australian) Sasha that we’d have spent more time in the security line at Heathrow than we have done just getting here.

Our speedy arrival, though, is in direct contrast to the island’s slow pace. With surrounds that have us hitting the pause button at every turn, it’s easy to fall into step with the relaxed vibe of island life. In one direction there are pretty sailing boats bobbing offshore and, in the other, wildflowers adding arresting colour to hedgerows. In-between are countless beaches with sand the colour and texture of caster sugar.

Like many visitors, we’ve made St Mary’s our base for exploring the islands – it’s where planes and a daily ferry from the mainland arrive, and is home to the majority of Scillonians. We’re staying at The Star Castle, originally a fortress built in the form of a star, that occupies a prime spot on a rocky peninsula. There are some rooms in the castle itself – including ours, which has a four-poster bed and calming views – as well as spacious garden rooms in the grounds. Guests take their meals in two restaurants, one in the castle and the other, focusing solely on seafood, in a conservatory built around an old vine forming a dramatic grape-laden canopy across the ceiling.

Owner Robert Francis, who takes the time to chat to guests and staff, heads out in his boat at the crack of dawn every morning, fishing and catching lobsters to serve in the restaurants. The whole time we’re here we don’t eat a bad meal. In fact, we don’t even eat an average meal – it’s all fresh and plentiful and feels really special, especially the seafood options. On Robert’s recommendation, we spend time at his nearby vineyard, Holy Vale, where he’s planted pinot noir, pinot gris and chardonnay vines in the hopes of offering Scillonian wine to his guests.

For now, the vineyard’s friendly manager George Trubody leads us on a tasting tour where we’re introduced to excellent and unusual wines that we later order in the hotel’s restaurant. It’s a source of pride that Robert is able to offer guests a cracking selection of wines without huge restaurant mark-ups. He simply wants everyone to enjoy a glass of nice wine. 

From Holy Vale, we wander to Old Town and to the Scilly Spirit Distillery, run by Arthur and Hilary Miller since 2019. They’ve landed a number of awards for their gin, which uses a recipe inspired by a 1665 shipwreck’s washed-up cargo of pepper from Java. You can buy a bottle to take home, or book into their gin school to create your own. In dire need of sustenance after an afternoon of alcohol tasting and sunshine, we head to smart beachside cafe Dibble & Grub, for a vast selection of made-to-order tapas and groaning antipasti boards that we eat as the sun sets over Porthcressa Beach.

Each of the islands has its own distinct feel – and the easiest way to explore them is by crossing the calm waters between them on inter-island ferries running on a timetable dictated by the tides. Return fares cost £12 for adults and £6.50 for children (scillyboating.co.uk) so it’s an affordable and fun way to get about. Our first visit is to St Martin’s, the most northerly of the five islands, where we follow sandy paths across heather-covered landscapes and trundle past dunes of rare flowers and grasses leading to idyllic beaches.

En route to lunch, we drop by SC Dogs Distillery on Carron Farm where Andrew Walder, whose family has lived on the island for more than 300 years, makes rum and vodka. After a small tour we sample his wares, which include a golden spiced rum, flavoured with botanicals from neighbouring island Tresco’s Abbey Garden and honey from the island bees. When we get to our lunch spot – The Seven Stones Inn, the island’s only pub – we’ve crossed the whole island and are ready for refreshment.

The pub is a real social hub with friendly owners Emily and Dom happily mingling with guests on a vast terrace that has views across the sea to the other islands. Here, we have a post-walk pint and devour whole soft shell crab served oh-so-lightly battered and stuffed in a brioche bun with pea shoots and a ginger mayo. It’s excellent and feels as much a reward for our trek as the views.

Next morning, we sail to immaculate Tresco, where A-listers and royalty flock for unspoilt beaches and storybook cottages. There are no cars, only bikes and golf carts pootling along the twisty paths. At times, it’s easy to forget we are still on the British Isles. We’re told some visitors prefer the ruggedness of the other islands, but for two Australians who have not been home since pre-pandemic times, we are thrilled to stumble across pockets of what feels like home.

At Ruin Beach Cafe, an all-day beachside brasserie, we order sharing plates of seafood and charcuterie on a terrace overhanging a white-sand beach. The water is clear and sparkling and the sand a natural playground for children who are racing along it with the kind of carefree abandon you find in Enid Blyton books. ‘Now this,’ sighs Sasha wistfully, ‘really is just like home.’ Later, we catch a ride on the back of a golf cart to the subtropical Tresco Abby Garden, once described as ‘Kew with the roof off’.

Wandering through a grove filled with towering Australian eucalyptus and acacia trees, we are moved almost to tears at being engulfed with the sights and smells of home. If it wasn’t for the odd red squirrel rather than red kangaroo popping out from behind the trees, we could almost convince ourselves we were on the other side of the world.

The Isles of Scilly seem to be a destination that appeals to everyone. Those we chat to who have been here before, return (Robert says 80% of his hotel’s guests are return customers), and those who haven’t say it’s been on their bucket list for ages. On our final morning, a fellow guests asks over breakfast if this is our first time here. When we confirm that it is, he smiles broadly and says, ‘Well then, I guess we’ll be seeing you next year.’