Guernsey, Channel Islands

As I mentioned last week, I had a week away from home.  As a widow, I have not been brave enough yet to do singles holidays (although I am slowly coming round to the idea). I do once a year grab a few days away with my best friend from university days, but she does not like the idea of flying, so holidays abroad are ruled out. It was therefore with some surprise when she suggested this year's trip might be to Guernsey in the Channel Islands via the ferry from Poole. It is off the cost of France and has its own currency and health system, so I could at least pretend it was "abroad".

I met my friend in Poole on Friday 8th May and we stayed one night at the Travelodge there. She had driven from Hertfordshire and I had got the train to Poole from London. Unfortunately my room had been sprayed with some very strong air freshener which gave me a headache within 5 minutes of being in the room. I had to get out of there and go for a walk in Poole to clear my head.  I think the maid must have dropped a whole bottle of room spray on the floor, because even with the window open for 5 hours, when I returned to the room, the fragrance still hit you between the eyes and took your breath away. I complained to Reception, they came up to the room and agreed it was overpowering and immediately gave me another room which was much much better. We also took the opportunity while there to meet up for a meal with the widowed husband of my old school friend who lives nearby and we were able to swap news and chat, much easier than the usual emails back and forth. Our meal was at Riggers - part of the Royal National Lifeboat College -  a 5-minute stroll from the Travelodge. It is the national training college for all lifeboat personnel. The menu was quite varied and well-cooked, served by delightful young waitresses.

The next day my uni friend and I boarded the Brittany Ferry to Guernsey as foot passengers. The crossing took 3 hours and was relatively uneventful. We arrived on the island 's capital, St Peter's Port, about 5.30 pm to discover the 9th May is Liberation Day when the inhabitants of the island go mad. Like New Year's Eve on steroids. It's the day in 1945 when the Channel Islands were liberated from 5 years of German occupation - the only part of Britain to be occupied by the Nazis during the war. There were Union Jack flags on just about everything, parties and parades in the streets, the town was gridlocked and taxis almost unable to get through. Apparently Queen Elizabeth visited there on its 60th anniversary and Princess Anne was there last year for the 80th anniversary.  The following picture is of the Liberation monument by the harbour unveiled by the Prince of Wales in 1995 (the 50th anniversary). It comprises 50 layers of blue Guernsey granite representing the 50 years of freedom since liberation up to its unveiling in 1995. The cut angle at the top represents the trauma of the 5 years of occupation.

We eventually settled into our hotel and ate our first evening meal there, as it was already quite late. The hotel had come as a package with the ferry crossing, so we knew very little about it on arrival but it had extensive grounds and also served as a retreat for religious groups and had once been run by nuns.  The grounds were extensive with beautiful views of the sea, as well as statues of Madonna and Child.  I managed to converse with rabbits and sheep when I wandered round the grounds one day. Apart from two parallel roads down by the sea - one the promenade and one the High Street immediately behind it - St Peter's Port is incredibly hilly and anywhere into the town away from the sea is invariably up very steep inclines. I walked up one one day and was so breathless I thought my heart would burst out of my chest. We took to taking taxis back to the hotel after that!

The hotel

view from my hotel room

Hotel grounds looking out to sea with the islands of Herm, Jethou and Sark on the horizon

sheep in the hotel grounds

entrance to the hotel peace garden

peace garden fountain

Another inhabitant of the hotel

On the first full day (Sunday 10th)  the wind was quite rough at 28mph and they even cancelled the ferry crossings, so we were glad it had not been that rough for ours. It was almost impossible to stand upright when we walked the short distance to a general museum all about Guernsey's history, art and folklore. It was impressive that all the information was in both English and  French, partly because the ownership of the island has been torn between the two countries over the centuries, but also because it is a day-trip visit from France, so there are a lot of French tourists on the island.  It is situated in beautiful gardens but again the wind was howling, so my friend decided to walk back to her room. I braved a walk down into the town centre to explore the High Street. Unfortunately the wind was so strong, there were hardly any people about, unless they were mad like me, so in the end, I braved the long vertical uphill walk back to the hotel mentioned earlier. Hardly any of the shops were open anyway, as they seem to observe Sunday as a rest day. Only one or two of the big chains (like Boots, Superdrug, New Look) were open, but the vast majority of smaller shops and cafes were closed.

The following day (Monday) we caught Le Petit Train - a train that does not run on tracks but wanders round the streets of St Peter's Port on an hourly basis pointing out the sights. We then explored the High Street, this time with all the shops and cafes open. Again, by lunchtime, my friend was flagging, so she returned to the hotel and I hopped on one of the many efficient buses to take a complete round-the-island tour. It was interesting to see that St Peter's Port is probably the only built up bit of the island - the rest consists of small hamlets of houses and bungalows by the sea, but with no shops to speak of. Perhaps a random dental practice or funeral director, but nowhere to buy food, so I guess people come in to St Peter's Port to buy anything! The coastline was beautiful and there were plenty of coastal walks, empty beaches with perhaps a single person walking their dog, and the occasional surfing shack. I was on that bus for a few minutes short of 2 hours and all it cost me was £1.70.

Le Petit Train, courtesy of Visit Guernsey

One of the many deserted beaches round the coastline

On Tuesday we visited Castle Cornet set out on a promontory and inhabited over 800 years by the French, the English and then the Germans under Nazi occupation. There was so much to see and do there with breath-taking views of St Peter's Port. At noon they fire a cannon which is well worth watching, even if you do lose your hearing immediately afterwards! 

Castle Cornet from the promenade

The German occupation used bits of the castle

Gardens within the castle

Another garden within the castle

About to fire the cannon - see the video below

A ghostly presence captured in this picture. At this point, I was the only one in this alleyway of the castle!

After that we puffed and wheezed our way uphill to visit Hautville House, the exile home of Victor Hugo who wrote Les Miserables. Unfortunately, you have to pre-book to go inside the house and there were no slots available during the week we were there. We did hope they would take pity us on us and let us in anyway, but they remained steadfast we could not enter the building, although they did let us look at the back garden down a side alley. 

Hautville House courtesy of Expedia

After that my friend was flagging so she made her way back to the hotel and I caught another public bus to see the interior of the island. It coincided with schools shutting down for the day, so the bus was full of very well-behaved schoolchildren.

Our final full-day was spent visiting the German Occupation Museum started and owned by a man called Richard Heaume. He is now in his 82nd year and was serving food in the cafe, while we were there!   As a small child, he loved hearing his parents' stories of the occupation so much, he started collecting memorabilia to do with the occupation and, let me tell you, there is so much to see you could spend hours there. Everything from Nazi guns, uniforms, posters, letters, boats, tractors and much more. The following photos don't do it justice.

After that, we caught a taxi to the Little Chapel - a tiny church made inside and out of broken shards of porcelain.   It was stunning and the video below only covers a fraction of it. It is said you can only get four people inside at one time and, with my friend and I the only ones there,  it was certainly beginning to fill up!

Sadly all too soon, it was time to return to our hotel for our last evening meal and pack for the early start the next day. We had to be at the ferry port at 08.30 am, so needed to be up and checked out by 8am. The winds were not as rough as the previous Sunday but at 20mph we were still concerned our ferry might be cancelled. In the event it wasn't, but the crossing was choppy to put it mildly. It was hilarious to watch people walking around the ship to the cafes or toilets, determined to walk in a straight line but looking like drunks as they lurched from side to side in a zigzag fashion. The ship pitched left and right for most of the 3-hour crossing and we stayed in out seats as much as we could, until we neared calmer waters just outside Poole.

I said goodbye to my friend - she was driving back to Hertfordshire and I was heading for the train station.  The trains back to London were chaotic because of a freight train breakdown earlier in the day, so were not running to time. I was advised by the Poole ticket office to jump on a train already standing on the platform - one far earlier than I was booked on - but at least about to leave. I rushed on with my luggage and slumped into the first available free seat. About 5 minutes into the journey, there came an announcement that the train was no longer stopping at every station as scheduled and would be fast to London Waterloo. That was no problem for me as I was heading there anyway. However, when the ticket collector came along he told me off for being on the wrong train, as it was a now a fast one and said I must pay a further £79. At first he would not believe me that the ticket office at Poole had told me to get on that train, but finally said he would "only" charge me an extra £5 and I was not to make that mistake again! With knuckles rapped, I made my way home through central London with fond memories of Guernsey.