GUERNSEY
the jagged rocks beneath. After one last push
up the 230 stone steps to Jerbourg Point,
we were breathless both with exhaustion
and awe at the view out overlooking nearby
islands of Sark and Herm.
A CHALLENGING COASTAL STOMP
Jerbourg to Torteval
The most challenging and spectacular
walks to be had in Guernsey are along
the south coast. It’s about 17 miles from
Jerbourg to Portelet on mostly rough
terrain and with steep inclines occasionally
broken up by gentler sections (not to
mention stops on the beach for a quick
paddle to soothe hardworking feet). You’re
never all that far from the main coast road,
however, which is served by the round-the-
island bus route.
The path once again was flanked with
bluebells for much of the way, along with
a host of other wild flowers, including
red campions and the garlic-fragranced
bell-shaped flowers we’d noticed yesterday.
We had the good fortune of meeting Alan,
a retired postman and wild flower expert
from Eastbourne on his 35th visit to
Guernsey. “What are these white bells?” I
asked him.
“That’s three-cornered garlic,” Alan
replied. “But they call them three-cornered
leeks here on the island.”
Smells a lot more like garlic to me, I
thought.
“See this one,” he pointed to something I
thought must be related to vetch. “Fumitory,
it’s called, because of the funnel-like flowers”
“What’s this one here, then?” I asked
pointing at surely an innocent cousin of cow
p ars l e y.
“Ah, that’s hemlock...”
“Hemlock!” exclaimed Izzy “I thought
that only existed in Shakespeare plays or
witches’ potions”.
And so our botany lesson continued as
we chatted, soaking up the morning sun
and admiring the positively Mediterranean
colours of the bays, inlets and coves below.
We took the steps down to Moulin Huet
Bay, immortalised in paint by Renoir during
his month-long stay in 1883. He, too, was
taken by the numerous rock stacks in the
blue-green water, erect like iron filings to
a magnet’s pull. Like all of the bays, it’s well
equipped with café and toilet facilities.
Petit Bôt Bay made for the ideal lunch
stop. The path down from the headland took
us over a babbling stream and past another
Napoleonic-era relic, one of the island’s 12
loop-holed towers, and on to the shingle
beach. We de-booted and relieved our feet
in the shimmering water and watched as
kayakers dragged their brightly coloured
craft ashore. Then we topped up our lunch
provisions (some of it cheekily scavenged
that morning from the hotel breakfast bar)
in the café, with local ice cream made from
the milk of the famous Guernsey cows we’d
seen grazing on the headland.
The afternoon was a blur of burgeoning
sunburn and tiring feet, while our eyes
marvelled at cloudless sky and the
diamonds glinting on the sea below. We
powered on, hoping to fit all 17 miles of
walking into our day. At Prevôté Tower –
a landmark that reminded me of the 2018
movie Cold War – we sat and ate our last
remaining snacks and watched as a kestrel
hovered on the thermals, clearly intent on
something equally tasty in the valley below.
From here we could see the next watch
tower at Mont Hérault and knew this was
near our end point – and so, with wider
strides, we pushed on.
When we reached the tower an hour
and a half later, we were ready for a rest and
knew that if we took the road down into
the village, our hotel would be in sight. But
the guidebook also told us that this corner
of the island, the district of Torteval, is the
most beautiful part of all. Izzy opted to fast-
forward to the hotel while the photographer
in me, fuelled up on more snacks, powered
on around the headland full in the
knowledge that the best light of the day was
also just around this corner.
Pleinmont Point proved to be an ideal
elevated position from which to sit and
watch the evening light; needle-like rocks
emerged from the shallows and the Hanois
lighthouse, just off the coast, reminded me
just how treacherous these waters can be.
I was also drawn to the curious ‘fairy ring’
or Table de Pions at the bottom of the hill.
This looks like an ancient stone circle and
rumours abound that witches used it for
their Friday night meetings, but the truth
is a little more mundane: it was designed
as a lunch-stop for the footmen (‘pions’)
involved in the triennial tradition of La
Chevauchée, a formal procession surveying
the island’s roads and coastal defences.
From here, I watched the sun plop into
the sea and followed the welcomingly flat
road all the way to Portelet and my final stop
of the day where I enjoyed a well-deserved
glass of a wine.BAYS, BEACHES AND A SUNSET
STROLL
Torteval to Cobô Bay
Our final day’s walking was a much more
sedate beach-side stroll. We started at
the Portlelet end of the giant, seepingThe Great Outdoors July 2019 65