Far-flung island of St Helena is now just a flight away

It is a little after midday when we are "feet wet", 38,000 feet above the Skeleton Coast. Behind us: a parched, sunblasted land. In front: miles and miles of blue, stretching to the horizon which at this altitude looks as if it curves away from us.

It is just an illusion, I know, but for a moment I feel a sudden loneliness as we whisper out over the sea. Next stop, the tiny volcanic outcrop of St Helena, 1,200 nautical miles and three hours flight time away aboard Airlink's new Embraer E190 jet.

"This is an age of miracles and wonders," Paul Simon sang. And so it is - the journey to one of the most remote inhabited places on Earth has, over time, been reduced from months in the age of sail to days by steamship to mere hours.

Portuguese navigator João da Nova discovered St Helena on May 3 1502. Or maybe it was May 21 - there is a certain confusao in the records. Another theory is that Da Nova actually discovered Tristan da Cunha, 2,430km to the south, and that it was Estêvão da Gama who discovered the island a year later on July 30 1503.

There is a pleasing synchronicity to the moment: five centuries later, Brazilian aircrew - possibly the descendants of Portuguese explorers who sailed to South America - conduct the proving flights with the Embraer 190, proving that the expensive airport (slagged off in the British press as "the world's most useless") is, in fact, eminently usable.

The days leading up to this moment have been full of wisecracks. "Have you heard about the turbulence?" "Are you crazy?" "Are you sure you won't fly right past it?" I put it down to mere envy but even my worried mother calls - twice - while we're embarking.

Still, as we begin our descent hours later and I catch a glimpse of St Helena's dark, volcanic flanks rearing out of the sea, I can't help wonder at the audacity of squeezing an airport onto the island and then landing jets on it. It's like a big, rocky aircraft carrier, without the nuclear power or okes in yellow overalls guiding the planes in to land.

We drop through scudding cloud. I am on the seaward side so I watch the two Airlink technicians sitting across the aisle instead. No white knuckles or perspiring brows.

The approach is a non-event. I've been in much worse turbulence flying into Cape Town in a southeaster. For a proper white-knuckle ride, try flying into Joburg during a big summer thunderstorm.

We float in over the sea and touch down beyond the numbers. Everybody cheers. Two firetrucks hose the jet down in a traditional greeting as we taxi to the ramp. St Helena Airport is officially open for business.

4PM: NAPOLEONIC BLUES

In a fine drizzle, we drive across a barren plain and suddenly drop into the verdant, green centre of the island. A fluttering Tricolore marks Longwood House, site of one of the island's premier tourist attractions.

Neither the Portuguese or later Dutch mariners had much use for the island other than as a watering stop and a place to store fresh, live goats (who ate much of it) and it was left to the British to colonise it.

The island really is a dot in the ocean. Roughly 16km long and 22km wide at its widest point, it covers an area of 122 square kilometer. The nearest country is Angola, 2,000km to the east. It was, as it turned out, the perfect place to exile an emperor, as the British noted at the time, to prevent him "from disturbing the repose of Europe".

Napoleon Bonaparte, France's great hope, arrived on the island on October 15 1815, four months after his bitter defeat at Waterloo. There would be no escaping from here, unlike his first failed island of exile, Elba. Forts looked down on the sea from the high cliffs and the rugged, wave-battered coast and strong currents meant the only feasible anchorage was in St James Bay, right in the maw of the British guns.

The forlorn emperor and his retinue spent some time living with a British family at Briars Pavilion while the mouldy and rat-infested Longwood House was being prepared. Once installed at Longwood, according to Anthony Mancini in the New York Times, the emperor cut holes in the shutters "so that he could use a telescope to watch activity in the garden or his detested overseer approaching the houses".

After nearly six years of damp exile, the emperor died. It is not true that he was poisoned by arsenic in the wallpaper. His remains were returned to France in 1840 - but Longwood House remains a piece of France in British territory.

6.30PM: GINS & TONIC WITH THE GOVERNOR

At dusk we are driven up the precipitous road to Plantation House, the governor's exquisite mansion in the heart of the island's green belt. Cars clambering up the hillside have right of way and the parp of hooters floats down the valley.

Somewhere in the rolling grounds in front of the house, where the speeches and G&Ts are flowing in generous measure, are three tortoises. Jonathan, the patriarch and the oldest living terrestrial animal on the planet, is a tourist attraction in his own right. His exact age is unknown but he was fully grown when he arrived from the Seychelles in 1882 and there are pictures of him being petted by Boer prisoners during their own exile during the Anglo-Boer War.

We head back to town for an excellent fish curry at The Blue Lantern. Fish and lots of it is at the heart of island cuisine. There is chicken too, all the way from South Africa. Chickens by sea, people by air. That's evolution for you.

Afterwards, a fellow hack and I decide it's a good time to climb Jacob's Ladder, the staircase leading straight up the mountain from town. Lit every few feet by lamps, the effect from sea level is of a string of fairy lights heading to heaven. The 699 steps are high. I keep thinking that my companion will admit to the folly of the idea but she ploughs ahead. Lungs on fire, it takes us 25 minutes to reach the top. The sound of music rises on the breeze and Jamestown is a sliver of light in the embrace of two rocky arms. By the time we get down, my legs are jelly and I stagger back to the hotel like a town drunk.

"Big night?" asks the clerk.

7AM, SUNDAY: INTO THE BLUE

After a restorative breakfast at the brand-new Mantis St Helena, I take a quick stroll through Jamestown. It's raining and there is mist on the hills. Town is utterly quiet except for a calico cat that greets me outside a shuttered bar. I hear bursts of radio - the DJ is playing requests for someone "up at Longwood" - and then the church bells begin to ring. The sound follows us to the harbour where we board powerboats for a fast trip down to Egg Island.

St Helena from the sea is a spectacular sight, all dark, brooding cliffs and little bays where the sea churns. Noddies flit from their nests in the rocks and a passing whale breaches nearby. The sea is at turns aquamarine and a deep, navy blue and the boatmen say the diving is excellent. "It's like sticking your head inside a fish tank," says our skipper.

The clock is ticking. There is no time to hike up Diana's Peak or talk about island life with the locals. Twenty-four hours of happy exile was not enough.

• Ash was a guest of Airlink and the St Helena Government.

PLAN YOUR TRIP

GETTING THERE

Airlink currently offers one flight per week to St Helena from Johannesburg and Cape Town via Windhoek. Windhoek is a refuelling and technical stop for outbound flights. Flights depart Johannesburg at 9am on Saturdays (or 10.30am from Cape Town), returning at 2.30pm the same day.

Flight time from Windhoek to St Helena is 3 hours and 45 minutes and just over six hours in total, including the stopover in Windhoek. If there is sufficient demand, the airline may add a second flight per week.

Return fares are currently R14,090 from Joburg and R15,300 from Cape Town.

WHERE TO STAY

There is a wide spread of B&B and self-catering accommodation as well as the lovely new 30-room Mantis St Helena.

CONTACT

For more information, visit St Helena Tourism and Corker's Tourist Service.

GENERALS, ZULUS AND BOERS

Napoleon Bonaparte may have been St Helena's most famous resident - and he is still a tangible presence on the island - but he was not the only warrior to be exiled here.

In 1890, Zulu general Dinuzulu kaCetshwayo was captured by the British and banished to the island as punishment for leading an army against the Empire's occupiers in Zululand.

He spent 10 years on St Helena, during which time he fathered a child with one of his attendants, a local woman. His daughter, Maglan Noden - or "Princess Dinuzulu" - is still alive, although reportedly very frail.

The island was also a temporary home to more than 6,000 Boer prisoners of war who were captured at the Battle of Paardeberg. For some 300 men - the youngest just 16 - the island would be their last resting place.

Basil George, a descendant of a Boer POW, still lives there today.