July 15, 2012: Petit Bot to Vazon Bay
Pointe de la Moye
I could again see bright skies as I headed down the stairs at breakfast time on the second day of our Guernsey coastal walk. I found Naomi and Adrian in the lounge, tapping away (or fingering the screen) of their laptops – objects from which they could never be separated for long. Curiously, Naomi’s cell phone provider had failed to recognize the Channel Islands as a part of the United Kingdom and so we were relying on Dorothy’s old Nokia – which seems to work everywhere in Europe – and with it we had altered our pickup time from 9:30 to 9:00. This still left us plenty of time to finish our breakfast at 8:00 and make our last minute preparations.
Adrian was making inquiries about laundry service as I descended a second time. He and my sister-in-law had both muddied their trousers in yesterday’s tumbles and there was the additional problem of Adrian running out of shirts – since he preferred to walk in copiously buttoned office shirtfronts – as though he were about to deliver a lecture to the rabbits (who seemed to have few natural predators on Guernsey, which lacked foxes and even squirrels). Naomi solved her sartorial problems by joining me in the wearing of rain pants for the rest of the walk. It was never warm enough for anyone to wear shorts.
We had a lady taxi driver this morning and she filled us in on the plethora for hand-painted cows, which sponsoring organizations had deployed in a variety of designs all over the island – part of a fund-raiser for adult literacy and other good causes. We saw a few of the hand-painted donkeys from the previous year’s campaign as well but only rarely did we spot one of the brown and white Guernsey cows – for which the island is famous.
After studying maps and the guidebook I had a more serious concern – it looked liked it would be quite a while before we would reach any noontime place of refreshment today and we asked our driver if she could stop briefly for us to do some food shopping. This was accomplished at a Rubis service station and by 9:20 we were back at Petit Bot Bay.
Naturally today’s jaunt began with a steep step-assisted climb back to the cliff tops. We were now following plinths bearing “Le Gouffre” labels as we made our way on broad paths, often with only rare views of the sea, in the direction of the Pointe de la Moye. After turning inland Naomi used the loo at the café at Le Gouffre itself, where I had a brief rest in a chair out front. Then it was up more steps and a high level walk over to the next descending valley. Here we touched on a road at Le Bigard before heading west amid bracken and gorse and on to the valley containing the village of La Corbiere.
German Observation Tower
Here Adrian, sensing another steep climb, proposed we try to find a high-level substitute and he soon had us sloshing along on a muddy track – one that soon gave way to a system of tarmac roads. On our left we could spot a prominent German observation tower at La Prévote and, as we turned first right, then left, we approached a pack of scrambling motorcyclists tearing up the countryside between us and the tower. We persisted around another corner in search of a route back to the cliff path and we soon located this and resumed our westward trod.
It was about 12:30 by now and we were growing peckish but the search for a lunch spot was postponed while another puzzle had to be addressed – we were about to undertake another dramatic shortcut and, as we neared Le Creux Mahie, we began to search out a likely looking escape path to the north. We found a useful track near some farms and settled down to attack our sandwiches – serenaded from afar by the loud electronic hum of music.
The reason for our need to improvise at this point had little to do with today’s stage, as proposed by Let’s Go Walking!, but much to do with tomorrow’s – since the company had set us an unrealistic stretch of 15 miles! In order to get to the end of this total, we reasoned, we would have to accomplish some of this distance today – and that would mean that we would have to forego the pleasures of the Pleinmont peninsula (where, we soon understood, the motorcycle folk were going to have a rock festival today) and make our way in a north-by-northwest fashion along back roads to the west coast – coming out somewhere beyond the Portelet Harbour and its Imperial Hotel, where we were supposed to be picked up at 5:00 again.
So after our lunch we followed a track out to the main highway (here called the Route de Pleinmont) and, turning left for a short while, leaving it near Les Jehans for our mostly level cross-country walk. A lady in a car, seeing us pouring over our maps, stopped to offer advice – but it was clear that we were on the right track. I often enjoy escaping the “official route” (here almost a contradiction in terms) and so it was today, with a series of houses (far more modest than the ones we had seen yesterday) and flowery fields drawing us forward. Every now and then, at crossroads, we paused to have another look at our map, making sure to take the right turning. Eventually we reached another main road, the Route Du Coudre, but here we discovered there was no additional need to find more modest back roads – for this highway had a pedestrian pavement that permitted an easy downhill progress in lush surroundings.
Fort Grey
We arrived at the busy coastal road, just north of Fort Grey, at about 1:30 and, while Naomi and I had a rest on some steps, Adrian darted off to the left to have a closer look at this round edifice. To the south we could see Portelet Harbour, our original destination for this day, but now we knew we had plenty of time to eat into tomorrow’s 15-mile total with some steady coastal progress, first in a northerly direction and then in an easterly one.
I think we were a bit discomfited by the early stages of our afternoon’s walk for here there was no pavement and for several minutes we had to share the roadway with oncoming traffic. The long coastline on this side of the island is far flatter than its southern equivalent and we were really walking along the back of beaches for many a mile. To escape the traffic we tried a stretch on shingle but this was just as uncomfortable. Fortunately parallel walkways and pavement soon appeared and this made our progress much more pleasant. It was a warm afternoon and now that the sun was behind me I switched to my kepi, the one with a neck-protecting rear flap that made me look like a Japanese sniper. Naomi and Adrian wore headgear that would not have disgraced Ned Kelly, though at least there were no corks bouncing from the brim. They often wore one another’s hat by mistake.
German concrete bunkers flanked a number of sites as we made our way behind Roquaine and L’Eree Bays. There were French and German tourists about, incidentally; I suppose the latter included some visitors who wanted to see what granddaddy did during the war. Even though it was low tide (and thus not as lovely as it might have been with advancing waters) we were not tempted to explore Lihou Island, just offshore, but we did pause at a dolmen passage tomb, Le Creux es Faies – a Neolithic burial site for which the Germans seemed to have had no use whatsoever. The next section of the route was dominated by a Martello tower at Fort Saumarez – one to which the invaders had added an observation tower.
There were plenty of beachside kiosks and toilets on this stretch and as we passed the back of Perelle and Vazon Bays I urged that we pause long enough to make a decision on where we wanted to be picked up by Island Taxis today. In fact we could already see the flags flying above the Grand Mare complex, hotel and golf course, and, using the Nokia, Adrian requested a pickup at 5:00 here. In another ten minutes we had reached the site in question and a search began for a place where we could have tea while we waited. This proved to be the hotel bar, where I took a chair next to an ancient sleeping cat. It was 4:20 and I estimated that we had again walked ten miles.
A hotel guest now rushed through, claiming that he had lost his wallet and phone poolside, but no one seemed to think of this as a crisis – we heard on a number of occasions that Guernsey is one of the safest places in the world and crimes of this nature simply do not occur. Adrian began to patrol the driveways shortly before 5:00, anxiously looking out for our taxi, which arrived on time. On our way back to St Peter Port we arranged for a 9:00 pickup again on the morrow and, of course, reminded the firm that we would be returning to Vazon Bay not Portelet Harbour.
I had another nap and met the others for drinks at 7:00. (Naomi always felt that there was too much red wine in her small glass.) Adrian always asked for the local beer or cider and now he began a serious quest for a local cheese as well. We thought we might try the nearby Cornerstone Café again but when we met our hippie waiter, smoking a cigarette out front, he reminded us that his employers offered no food on Sundays. He made a number of suggestions including The Terrace, back at harborside. So we descended and climbed its steps and ordered drinks and food at a long counter. The Terrace was an unusual combination of cultures: a Thai menu and staff with English food a well and the atmosphere of a working class pub. We disdained a place outside and waited for our number to be called when our food was ready. I had the scampi, chips and peas – too much. There was still light in the sky as we re-climbed our steep hill and I headed for my room and another early night.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: