Few small islands in Europe can boast such wonderful beaches. The shores of St Martins have sand so fine and soft that it used to be dug up and exported so that the scribes of yore could dry their ink with it before the days of blotting paper.

But you need a watchful chap on the bridge to get there at certain points of the tide - the water gets very shallow indeed in places…

This walk is a circumnavigation of the Scillonia’s most northerly isle - and the photos come from various occasions when iIve walked the islands. I think I wrote the words for this about 17 years ago…

Industries come and go and the fine white sands of St Martins were long ago singing in the breeze when someone invented blotting paper. Now even that unremarkable product seems like something out of the ark. The island also used to be a big name in the early-season flower industry until hotter places were able to fly their blooms into Northern Europe overnight. 

A much diminished scented narcissi industry still thrives on the island but walking around you see how 100 years of flower growing made its mark. Every other dwelling has a greenhouse attached, where flower buds were once matured ready for export. Everywhere, miniature flower fields snuggle amidst thick, protective, evergreen hedges.

Last weekend our boatman deposited us at the southerly tip of the island (often you will be taken to the western limb instead – adjust the walk accordingly) and from Higher Town Quay we were able to fork right and walk along the dune lined path past Little Arthur Farm.

This rather idyllic establishment looked as though it ought to be nestling somewhere in one of those innocent and harmless BBC TV series they have on Sunday nights. Lambs frolicked, goats did much the same, and a young bull played with the redundant roof of a pick-up truck – chucking it about the field as if it were some hapless matador.

We continued along the curving white beach to English Island Point where there's an excellent view of the uninhabited and mysterious Eastern Isles.

From here the island begins to show its more rugged face as the path wends its way across the rocky downs towards the Daymark. You can't miss this building - it's a 45 foot high edifice which, windowless and doorless, is painted with bright red and white stripes. It has only one other feature, albeit an inaccurate one: an inscription claims the place was built in 1637, but apparently 1683 would be closer to the truth.

Now the walk turns westward along St Martins' wilder northern coast, passing first the oddly named Bread and Cheese Cove. Out to sea you can watch the swell uneasily breaking over the Santamana Ledges and thank the Lord you're not trying to tack past them in a winter's gale.

Soon the path passes Wine Cove, which is a modest introduction to the splendid white sweep of Great Bay. But at this point I popped up the path to Higher Town so I could say hello to baker Toby Tobin-Dougan. Toby was winner of BBC Radio 4’s Food and Farming Awards for Best UK food retailer in 2002 – quite deservedly as all his products are superb. The homemade lemonade is a wonderful comfort to those doing this walk on a hot day.  (This was written years ago when Tony had the bakery).

Leaving Higher Town, we walked west along St Martin’s main lane until we reached the Reading Rooms, situated high on the central ridge. Here a path on the right took us the few yards over to Great Bay. It was while walking over the springy turf here that I noticed a big hawk, later identified as a Gyr Falcon, a feathered visitor which is about as common as hens’ teeth in the UK.

A huge green net lay spread across the fine white sand at Great Bay – I imagine it could have played merry hell with the propeller of any passing boat had it not been washed ashore and done goodness knows how much harm to the marine creatures.

I walked west along the beach to Top Rock Hill, which you have to round to reach the western shores of the isle. However, beyond this to the north, White Island acts as yet another temptation to lead you astray. At least it does if the tide is out. Then you can clamber across the bar and pretend you're Robinson Crusoe on your very own desert island. And Robinson Crusoe you'll be if you don't keep an eye out for the tide. 

Back on St Martins the path turns the corner to Lower Town Quay where you can enjoy a drink in the luxurious surroundings of the island's posh hotel or the excellent Seven Stones pub, which you’ll locate perched just above one of the old flower fields just around the corner.

The stretch along the southern underbelly of the island between Lower Town and Middle Town is one of my favourite pieces of England, partly because it reminds me of being somewhere else entirely.  More Madeira than St Martins, perhaps. Exotic shrubs line the way, punctuated by the occasional lordly pine, in which a thousand birds chatter and fuss in the sunshine.

You can wander down to the big sweep of Lawrence’s Bay on one of the many paths if you like, but the basic aim is to return up to Higher Town. From there it’s simply a matter of turning right down to the quay were you arrived. As far as circumnavigations go – the St Martin circular must be one of the best to be found anywhere in the West Country.

Fact File

Distance and going: about five miles depending on diversions - easy going.

Food & Drink: various venues including Seven Stones pub, St Martins Hotel and the award-winning bakery. But we lunched on wonderful fish (fresh caught local pollack) and chips at Little Arthur Farm.