The Holms by Simon Heptinstall

I lay sunbathing on the clifftop, listening to the waves lapping against rocks below. Apart from the seabirds whirling above and rabbits scampering across the grass, I almost had the lovely island to myself.

Yet if I turned my head to one side I could see the packed beaches of Barry Island and Penarth in South Wales. And if I rolled over to look the other way I could spot the holiday hordes of the North Somerset and Devon resorts.

I’d found a lonely get-away-from-it-all island... and it’s only five miles from a capital city.

Flatholm and its neighbour Steepholm sit in the Bristol Channel between Cardiff and Weston-Super-Mare. Every year thousands of holidaymakers gaze from their busy beaches wondering how they could get to the two mysterious islands five miles offshore.

What’s the secret of these two little-visited islands? I set out to discover the Holm truths. Are they are a pair of paradise isles... or brace of boring boulders?

Firstly I had to find out how to get to them. The islands are only three miles apart but the Flatholm boat leaves from Barry in South Wales while the Steepholm boat goes from Weston Super Mare, 100 miles away. That’s because the main busy shipping channel runs between the two islands. Huge car-transporter ships bound for Portbury Docks chug between them in the deep water channel.

Finding where to get the boats is just the start of the adventure. I booked my trips but waited weeks as they were repeatedly cancelled at the last moment due to bad weather.

It was July before I could join a boat trip to Steepholm. It was only the second time humans had stepped on the uninhabited island this year.

One of the best parts of visiting either island is the boat voyage. I imagined I was taking part a major expedition as vital supplies were loaded aboard and we were given careful safety instructions.

The islands may be close to civilisation but this feels like a real adventure. It takes an hour to cross from Weston to Steepholm, 40 minutes from Barry to Flatholm. The Channel that looks so calm from the shore gets pretty choppy a couple of miles out.

The tidal flow out there is one of the world’s most extreme, rising and falling by 47 feet. The currents are stronger than any swimmer. Neither island allows any bathing.

Some boat trips get all the way only there only to find it is too rough to land. Visitors have often been stranded. Once a wedding party arrived at Flatholm by private boat but had to be helicoptered off.

In 1985 12 visitors were stranded on Steepholm for four days. They were rescued after a CB radio fan heard their SOS. In 1992 a large party of naturalists were stuck on Steepholm in biting cold weather. At dusk they managed to scramble aboard a lifeboat and arrived back in Weston soaked and freezing.

Landing on Steepholm involves simply charging the boat full pelt into the steep pebble beach and then walking along wobbling plank to shore.

The island is a mile-long sausage shape with sheer 250 feet cliffs all round and a wildly overgrown plateau on top. Visitors are free to clamber up the path and wander around. I spent six hours there and never got bored: I did a complete circuit, investigated ruined fortifications, sunbathed and stared at the views, explored the beach and played with seagulls.

There’s little information and few facilities, although there is a makeshift cafe and shop in an old barracks. This is run by members of the Kenneth Allsop Trust who arrive in the boat too. They’re a group of nature lovers who bought Steepholm 35 years ago as a memorial to a popular TV naturalist.

A few weeks later I went to Flatholm to make a comparison. As the name implies, this is a flat medallion of rock about half a mile across.

Cardiff Council owns the island and its boat, the Lewis Alexandria. They even employ two boatmen. There are also council staff who live on the island. They plan sailings throughout the year, almost daily in summer.

Schools take educational visits and any group can arrange stays, as long as there’s some slight educational or environmental aspect. This can range from painting courses to religious retreats. Family conservation weekends are increasingly popular. There are bunk-bedded rooms in the farmhouse and converted barracks but the island enforces a limit of 50 people at any time.

With its own jetty, it’s easier to land than at Steepholm. Once ashore you’ll find the paths are clearer and facilities better maintained. Day trippers like me spend three hours on Flatholm, mostly having a guided tour. You can’t roam off by yourself.

The island filters its water from rainfall on old lighthouse buildings. This unique source makes “the best cup of tea in south Wales” according to Project Officer Kevin Hogan. After being marched round the island for three hours inspecting the lighthouse, gun emplacements and rare plants, I was desperate for my cuppa, wherever the water came from.

Despite colourful histories involving Vikings, smugglers, pirates and World War II anti-aircraft battles, both islands are now tranquil nature reserves.

A non-expert visitor like me, however, could only spot gulls, rabbits and brambles. More knowledgeable eyes pick out rare wild leeks and peonies, slow-worms (Britain’s biggest ever was found on Steepholm) and Flatholm’s colony of shelducks.

In the spring gulls are everywhere. With 10,000 birds on each tiny island you have to be careful not to tread on them. Experts may be horrified but on Steepholm I couldn’t resist picking up lost-looking young gulls and feeding them my sandwiches.

So are these two chunks of limestone worth the visit?

The boat trip, views and feeling of adventure are all an interesting way of spending a day - but you can’t help thinking they’re sadly under-used.

There are a couple of visitors, however, who are in no doubt Holm is where their hearts are. This couple were part of a flock of cashmere goats imported earlier this year to clear Flatholm’s rampant brambles and bushes.

When the goats finished their job, they were rounded up to be returned to the mainland. Two had other ideas, jumped a five-foot wall and ran for the trees. Staff nicknamed them Butch and Sundance because they still can’t be caught.

I spotted them running wild and free on the northern cliffs of the island. I bet they’re having a great time... they must reckon there’s no place like Holm.