The Channel Islands Way – Guernsey

Day 4

I’ve just about got to grips with putting the U before the E…… just about.

We checked in easily with Islands Unlimited an hour before our 7:05pm crossing having collected our previously stowed (£9) Eric apartment which was required for the crossing. No one asked to see it in any of the three places our boarding passes were checked- let’s hope the requirement to bring it and the follow up email I sent 100% confirming it was definitely necessary doesn’t in fact turn out to be a pack of crap.

We left our phones on charge in the bar next to some merry/drunk post golfing trip ladies who agreed to keep an eye on them, their payment for doing so was a mere fawn over Eric. Confident electricals were secured, we took ourselves to the outdoor waiting area and broke out the stoves to cook up a ‘Mountain House’ dehydrated feast of veggie scramble, eggs, potato and chorizo. Best before 2028 – those are some hardy eggs.

We wolfed that down on top of the bottle of wine we’d just shared in town and then boarding was called. The merry golfing ladies had left all our electrical devices happily unsupervised and gone to board the boat.

We were directed to a below deck department with a couple of other dogs and some additional people . We couldn’t work out what constituted the other dogless people being in the lower dogcabin with us, bad behaviour perhaps ? Anyway, as we started to suspect, no one asked for the three dogs on board to be crated.

Eric sporadically slept for the 1hr 10 minute journey which given how placid the sea looked, felt like being on a jet ski captained by one of those mad drunk golf ladies. The layout of the boat was like a very spacious plane. I felt my recent consumption of oddities was curdling inside me. One of the drunk golf ladies asked us, now on board the boat, if we picked up our phones. I wished I’d told her they’d all been stolen directly after they deserted them.

We arrived in the port at 8:10pm and no one was in the terminal, we had this stupid crate that we didn’t use and needed to off-load it. I saw a sign that said storage of items was £5 per day. I thought £45 plus the £9 we’d already spent in Jersey was just a snatch offensive for a crate we were never required to use. Eventually a security man appeared and looked extremely angry. Turns out he wasn’t. I got all sad and poor and explained the situation. He said he’d charge us £5 for the 9 days we’d be out and about to make up for the suffering we’d endured. What a nice man.

Now around 8:30pm ish we were due to set out into the night, the first possible camp spot was in 4 miles but maybe we’d see something before then. Leaving St Peter Port it was immediately different to St Helier, which felt more French where this felt more British. There were rowdier bars and seemingly less affluence. The southern side of Guernsey’s coast path was supposedly the toughest so we thought we’d tackle this first. It was immediately hilly, and, as in Jersey, short sharp ups and downs with nothing really in-between.

I was sweating profusely in the thick evening heat as we climbed ramparts out of town. We left the urban-side quite quickly and were almost immediately on our own. Darkness fell quite fast and before long we were traversing the cliff edges with our head torches on. It being day three, my legs were feeing pretty good, but leaving the nicely dressed townies in their restaurants, wrapping up their evenings and likely heading back to their nice hotels and rentals, I was questioning our decision to truck off into the night on an unknown island to find a patch of ground flat enough to curl up and sleep on.

Things went a little downhill from here. We found a camp spot at about 2 miles in, a flat overlook with a bench, but this was directly off trail and totally exposed to anyone walking by. The chances now of anyone walking by were arguably very slim, but if someone did, they were guaranteed to be an axe murderer because who the hell else would it be?

We pushed on hoping for a flat spot in 2 more dark miles. The lights out to sea, yachts in the bays and the gently fading remainder of the day were a lovely sight. When we reached the point we assumed might work for camp on St Michael’s point, it was just a rocky outcrop- no good. From here I could see on the map, a 5 minute walk up a near vertical set of steps was a parking spot which looked like it had green space around the edges. Up we went the steps designed for 7ft humans. Once we arrived, drenched in sweat, there were PERFECT flat grassy spots all around the parking place, but there was also a whopping great hotel, a kiosk that would likely open early and, within a few minutes of arrival (at 10pm), a car. Doggers? Lovers? Lads? Lad lovers? Don’t know, but if this was a regular hang out for any of the above, it wouldn’t be a comfortable or quiet sleep. Bugger. We carried on the coast path as a further 6 minutes ahead was a WWII M2 observation tower which not only looked like we could sleep inside it, but would fulfill the desires of Snakes, who, as we all know has the interests of a 12 year old boy.

On arrival- I tip toed down the vertical single track to investigate the tower for its suitability before calling down the girls. At first I saw litter and figured it was used a hang out spot for LADS. Then I saw pots and pans and a stove, things were looking more permanent, then I saw a sleeping bag and swiftly retreated. At this point the Snakey legged one had had enough and quite possibly wanted a divorce. She began looking at the price of the hotel we’d just passed. We deliberated whether to carry on in hope, or go and camp in that car park hoping the sex meet was over. We decided on the latter. When we arrived back there was a new car and it was surrounded rowdy lads. It was getting on for 11, the hotel was closed, we were both tired and frustrated and were running low on options.

On closer inspection on the map, there was a large field next to the hotel. It had a big private sign on the locked gate, but looked perfect otherwise. I convinced Snakes there was no other option and we jumped the fence and headed for a lucky small outcrop of tundra in the middle of the field that once behind, camouflaged us from the surrounding houses and the hotel. PERFECT. Well, not perfect but GOOD ENOUGH.

We swiftly set up, poor Eric was exhausted having been dragged about all day and not having had enough good undisturbed rest. We all slept immediately.

Day 5 – Guernsey

We work before 6, happily having not been woken by an angry hotelier or landowner. We packed up and headed back to the car park where a few benches overlooked the sea. Everything feels different in daylight. I ate porridge and made coffee with a lovely view.

We carried on trail, back past the scary tower of the night before and on to a beautiful sunny morning. It felt wilder than Jersey somehow, but less colourful too. The trail was pretty rough, up and down but enjoyably so now we were feeling accustomed to our bags and our legs were less angry about it.

We passed Moulin Huet bay, a popular haunt of Pierre Augustse Renoir. A self-guided trail here features five empty ornate frames showing the exact views he painted. We carried on, very hot now and in need of a swim, so we dropped into Saints Bay where we did just that. Eric has to be given a ball to occupy her while we swim otherwise she just barks for she fears for our safety and thinks that it’s helpful, the ball distraction is enough for her to no longer give a shit about us. The water is turquoise and irresistible, you can see the rippling sandy floor for metres below.

We dried off in the sun and walked up to see if the not yet open kiosk would fill our water bottles. They had an inordinate amount of instructional signs telling you where to sit and where not to sit. Where to eat and where not. Only food consumed on this premises blah blah only rubbish purchased from blah blah only well behaved blah blah – I had a feeling they weren’t the type to just give away tap water, especially 15 minutes prior to their official opening time- and I was right.

We carried on around a few more headlands and arrived at the also not yet open Petit Bot tearooms- here there were no overbearing signs, the owner was mid mopping the floor but invited us in, immediately gave Eric a bone, filled up all our water and sold us coffees and locozades. He came out to chat to us later on while giving us a bit of history on the area and asking what we were up to- he brought with him a homemade sausage for Eric- and as such has received a glowing review from us. What a contrast.

It was shortly after 10am but we ate our lunch here nonetheless, those hills were demanding. Eric is beginning to sit or lay down every time we stop, which is unusual for her and a clear sign she’s tired beyond normal. We’ll see how the sausage fires her up.

On climbing out of this next section the heat had cranked up a notch. There was no breeze today and it felt pretty oppressive- we soaked Eric’s cool coat at the next opportunity and carried on, finishing the steep southern side of the coast. After a brief break in the shade of another military tower, which were becoming as common as trees, we carried on, another couple of ups and downs and Eric had noticeably slowed. I didn’t like the look of the flat exposed terrain ahead and we had a good hour of that before our next interlude. We stopped to discuss and she was actively seeking out shade and pawing at the ground for cooler soil.

A combination of these weeks of recent relentless heatwaves, poor broken sleep overnight in the tent and anxiousness over all of the changing plans and late nights have tired her out. She’d follow us to the ends of the earth, but for the first time I didn’t get a little head tilt from her when I asked if she wanted to walk. On the map, two more stupid, hot ups and downs lead us to a side trail up and away from the coast, this took us to a road- the plan was to get there and then reassess. Before the road though, was a little group of trees and a big flat patch of shade – we got her there and she lay to sleep immediately.

Within five minutes I’d seen there was a bus stop three minutes walk away, a seven minute ride on the 91 bus would take us to Pleinmont where I booked us their LAST room in the hotel which happened to be one of a VERY few hotels on the island to allow dogs and this room was a dog friendly one.

We went from feeling extremely exposed and a little bit panicked on the edge of a desolate sauna of a cliff to having a perfect recuperation plan in all of about half an hour.

The bus wasn’t due for just under an hour and this was a good amount of time for Eric to relax and calm himself down. We topped him up on water and sauntered to the bus, a horribly hot 7 minute ride took us to just outside the Imperial hotel where our room was ready- Eric made straight for the bed, we stuck the fan on her and and she had the kind of sleep where she begins to dream.

Our daily miles were shorter than usual and the pace more relaxed but a whole combination of factors had pushed her too far and she was a tired boy.

We had a perfect overnight stay at the Imperial with the kindest most welcoming staff. We ate a good meal of not noodles and potato and took Eric out for a little evening ablution on the beach just opposite the hotel. Ben Fogles ‘New Lives in the Wild’ was on channel five and I fell asleep in perfectly legal bliss.

Day 6 – Guernsey

We decided to have a day off today and give Eric a rest. He’d slept well you’ll be pleased to hear. We went for a sumptuous breakfast included with the room and Eric had TWO local sausages.

We took a half hour spin on the beach, I’d hoped to walk to the island of Lihou but it was ‘closed’ for five days as the tide would not be low enough to reveal the causeway over this time. Shame. The shipwreck museum didn’t allow poodles so we decided to catch the bus inland to the Underground German Hospital museum as it would be both interesting and cold.

It ended up being very much both of these things. It was a short 15 minute walk (well it was 15 minutes, I guess it being a short or long 15 minutes is pretty dependent on your ability to walk and state of mind, really) off the bus and we were permitted access after the nice lady parted us with £8 each. I’d say this was £8 extremely well spent. Dark, cold, full of historic war time hospital equipment, excellent well presented stories of Channel Islands prisoners of war and plenty of creepy dripping wet tunnels. It’s opened to the public in 1954,the German Underground Hospital was, for the most part an ammunition store, and remains as the largest structural reminder of the German occupation existing in the Channel Islands.

It’s a labyrinth of tunnels beneath the surface of a small hill in the centre of the island. Hundreds of Tdot wokers (The Organisation Todt ((OT)) workers were forced and conscripted labourers used by Nazi Germany to build military fortifications, roads and other infrastructure, including extensively on the Channel Islands during WWII. Named after Fritz Todt, the German engineer and senior Nazi official who founded and led the organisation) . It took 3.5 years to build, with labourers working 6.5 day weeks and 12 hour shift. Once competed it was used for 9 months. The hospital was used for three months.

After our visit we then walked the short seven minutes to the pub for a lunchtime game of rummie, and a sit down, and chat with the manager, who told me my bag was the same colour as the Bulgarian flag.

We walked to the nearby tiny chapel. The Little Chapel is basically what happens when a monk decides to build a church but gets a little carried away with the craft supplies. Built by French monk Brother Déodat from 1914, it’s one of the smallest chapels in the world, covered in shells, pebbles and colourful bits of broken china, with the inside decorated in tiny mosaics. He actually rebuilt it twice because apparently the first two weren’t quite small enough. It’s absolutely tiny, slightly bonkers and completely charming — like a fairy-tale chapel made by someone who really loved a trip to the beach.

We caught the bus from here and changed in St Peter Port to head out to the East side of the island. We’d have to skip a section of the north in order to catch our boat to Alderney tomorrow, but that’s 95% road anyway. We arrived at a campsite, Snakes went to the shop for provisions (a broccoli to tart up our noodles) and we showered, sat in chairs and here I am now….