It rained hard on our first night in Hamilton, the wind whistling round the walls of the hotel. The next night, gusts touching 92 knots bent the palm trees sideways and smashed pots around the pool, plunging parts of the island into darkness.
It was the worst winter storm that anyone could remember, and that’s saying something in Bermuda. The locals take their weather very seriously, as befits a people who have to look across 640 miles of famously dangerous water to find their nearest neighbour.
By mid-morning the wind had dropped and life returned rapidly to normal: Bermudians have weathered full-blown hurricanes in recent years and this little storm was as interesting to them as it was inconvenient. Besides, Bermuda has a special affinity with such things.
Four hundred years ago next month, a seven-ship fleet set off from Plymouth to carry suppliers and settlers to the struggling new colony of Jamestown in Virginia.
A week from its destination, the fleet was struck by a ferocious Atlantic storm, probably a hurricane, that separated its flagship, the 300-tonne Sea Venture, from the rest.
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The ship was severely damaged and, after three desperate days, during which sailor and settler alike manned the pumps to stem the rising flood below decks, all seemed lost.
By noon on Friday, July 28, the storm still raged, the water in the hold was 9ft deep and rising, and the exhausted ship’s company began to lose hope. Some downed tools and began to attack the supply of brandy.
As they did so, the Admiral of the Fleet, Sir George Somers, looked up from the high poop and saw, miraculously, the trees of Bermuda, bending in the howling wind. Pumping resumed, a sail was raised and the Sea Venture ploughed through the waves towards salvation.
Today you can stand at Fort St Catherine on the northern tip of Bermuda and without much effort imagine the final moments of that dramatic day.
As the ship neared safety, Somers deliberately ran aground on the reef. A boat was launched, commanded by the man who should have been arriving in Virginia to become governor there. Instead Sir Thomas Gates was first to shore in Bermuda, shouting, it is said, “Gates, his bay” as he waded ashore.
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A look at the map shows just how fortunate Somers and his company were. Bermuda is a ridge, breaking the surface in the middle of the Atlantic. It is barely 22 miles long and no wider than a mile at its thickest point. Uninhabited in 1609, the island holds 65,000 permanent residents now.
Still a British colony (by far the oldest), it is now self-governing, maintaining an enviable prosperity by means of international business and tourism. Its beaches are justly famous as being among the finest in the world, with long stretches of pink sand and warm clear water — although no local will go near them between November and May.
But this year Bermuda is celebrating its history and a rich subject that turns out to be. Shakespeare is thought to have been inspired by the “still-vexed Bermoothes” to write The Tempest in 1611 and the adventures of the survivors on the island are well worth investigating.
John Rolfe, for example, lost his wife and child in the ten months on the island. He went on to Virginia and founded the tobacco industry. And he married Pocahontas, but that is another story.
Even our hotel, built in 1885, has a history of its own. The Fairmont Hamilton Princess is where, a long time ago, we spent the first night of our honeymoon (my wife is a Bermudian). I liked it then. I like it a lot more now. There may be a better hotel in the world, but I will not be looking for it.
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Mark Twain held court here for long stretches and a splendid statue of him by the local sculptor Desmond Fountain sits on a bench in the reception area. Ian Fleming was another regular — the hotel was one of many that he mined for inspiration for the Bond novels.
More recently, the Princess served as a kind of “Bletchley in the tropics” during the Second World War, with 1,200 British code-breakers working around the clock in “Room 99” in the basement. In the hotel, as in the rest of Bermuda, you are always aware of the glamorous drama of its past.
It’s only a short walk from here to Bermuda’s most famous feature: Front Street. From April to November cruise ships tie up on one side of the street, opposite the shops and restaurants, turning a casual walk into something unforgettable. When the ships are in, Hamilton hums with activity, even in the occasional summer storms.
Bermudians are a friendly lot and a long tradition of tourism has ensured that visitors are often surprised by the kindness of their hosts. Many locals will greet almost anyone they meet in the street with a cheery word. The local papers and television report some crime but by most standards, and certainly those of cities in Europe and the United States, it will seem non-existent to visitors.
There are fewer visitors now than when I first arrived on the island. In 1983 tourism was still the dominant industry and the glamour bestowed by the visits of the Kennedys and the occasional song by Frank Sinatra still glittered.
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Many of the places I remember fondly have disappeared, but the romance persists. One night in 1984 I took a local woman to dinner at the Lobster Pot — clams casino and lobster, since you ask — and then walked her unsteadily down to the dock on Front Street on a perfect turquoise evening.
With the harbour lights glimmering across the water and a drunk snoring on the bench beside us, I proposed. It says a great deal about the setting that she accepted. And you could have the same meal at the same place and take the same walk today with scarcely a thing changed, even if the drunk has gone.
In all its history Bermuda has fired only one shot in anger, and that plopped harmlessly into the sea as the Spanish trespasser that occasioned it fled to safer waters. But the country held a key strategic role in British naval affairs until the end of the last century.
Fort St Catherine, built in 1614, and its counterparts, Fort Scaur and the Royal Naval Dockyard at the western end of the island, will thrill history buffs with their fortifications and firearms.
For the less warlike, a walk in St George’s (named after Somers, whose heart is said to be buried in a park there) brings the visitor to St Peter’s Church, built in 1612 and the oldest Anglican Church in continuous use in the western hemisphere. St Peter’s is beautifully preserved and contains St George’s Chalice, made in 1625 and featuring engravings of the wreck of the Sea Venture.
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Outside in the graveyard history comes much closer to home with the graves of Sir Richard Sharples, the British Governor of Bermuda, and his aide-de-camp, Hugh Sayers, who were assassinated by Black Power activists as they walked a dog in March 1973.
On the other side of the church is another poignant reminder of Bermuda’s past: a separate graveyard for slaves. Although slavery was abolished on the island in 1834, segregation was still practised as late as the 1960s and the subject of race remains sensitive today, even though the country first had a black Prime Minister more than 30 years ago and has been led by the largely black Progressive Labour Party for more than a decade.
The subject of slavery is movingly explored in an excellent exhibition at the other end of the island, in the Bermuda Maritime Museum, which is based in the Commissioner’s House in the Royal Naval Dockyard. The ghastly apparatus of slaving is displayed here, oddly in a room next to an exhibit recording the island’s somewhat less momentous history in sailing competitions.
The house itself is magnificent, built of cast iron and wonderfully restored over the past 20 years. From its balcony you can stare over the west end of the island to the boundless turquoise ocean beyond as that familiar wind whistles around the flagpoles. In Bermuda, the wind, the sea and the weather are never far from your thoughts.
Getting around
There are few ways for a visitor to get around Bermuda: bus, ferry, moped — or a costly taxi ride. There is no car hire and for a long time tourists were encouraged to use rentable mopeds. That’s not a wise idea. Bermuda’s roads, crowded and narrow, are no place to learn how to ride a moped, even if the speed limit is 20mph.
The buses are cheap, frequent and run to most parts of the island. The ferries are superb. A trip back from Dockyard to Hamilton, for example, is cheap ($4 [£2.50] each), comfortable and quick (12 minutes).
Some taxi rides are inevitable for an ambitious visitor, with prices not dissimilar to those in big cities in Britain. Make sure at least one taxi trip takes you along Harbour Road (preferably towards the city and at dusk), the most romantic journey on the whole island. And don’t be tempted to walk — like too many of the island’s roads, Harbour Road has no pavement.
Where to eat
The Lobster Pot, if it were transplanted to London, would cause a sensation. Virtually unchanged in 25 years, this is the place for marvellous seafood, local and imported, especially lobster, at good prices.
The Waterlot Inn, run by the Southampton Princess hotel, is a first-class steakhouse.
Portofino on Par-la-Ville Road in Hamilton, is another long-established, family-style restaurant. Try the Bermuda Special pizza.
The Black Horse Tavern, St David’s, is tucked away on the eastern end of the island. Its specialities include fried fish sandwiches, lobster and shark hash.
Anniversary events
July 4-6: Festival of the Holy Spirit, St George’s Town Square. Annual feast day shindig this year promises to be the best yet.
July 12: Summer Sunday in the Park. Kids’ play area, live entertainment and food. Free.
July 28: Somers Day — celebrations all over the island to commemorate the wreck of the Sea Venture.
August 1: Emancipation Day Celebrations. Choirs, bands, talks, food and dancing in the Botanical Gardens.
Events continue throughout the year.
For details see www.bermuda2009.bm