June 26, 2013: Bonne Nuit to St. Catherine’s Tower
La Crête
Our return to Bonne Nuit was a very speedy one and we were climbing from our cab at 9:10 on another sunny morning. I was happy with such an early start since I knew we had a long and strenuous day ahead of us.
Adrian seemed quite recovered from his recent indisposition and he was soon striding off in the distance, with his wife and his brother-in-law trailing as usual. Turning our backs on the harbor we took to the same road just used by our taxi and marched uphill. After a while there was a turnoff that brought us into an area of furious building – though it was had for us to imagine why the homeless, for whom this project was intended, would be happy in such a remote location. We now had a choice of paths (we took the upper of the two) as we climbed above the round fortification building at La Crête. More steps followed as we climbed to a parking lot at Les Platons. Our cab driver had wanted to take us here – but we had sniffed at getting such an obvious advantage over the other walkers, who were quite numerous today.
We had to descend into a little valley, with the whirling radar disc of an aeronautical receiver station flashing above us. The ups and downs we now encountered were very reminiscent of those encountered yesterday – and it was as if Bonne Nuit Bay, behind us, never seemed to grow any smaller. Le Havre Giffard was below us now and then, after we had rounded La Belle Hougue headland, the bay of Le Petit Port was next. Nothing was straightforward – when you thought it was time to descend there would be another flight of stairs heading uphill and when you expected a cliff top progress you were sent into dark woodland. Progress, in consequence, was very slow (though all was lovely before us).
At one point we began a steep ascent that seemed to go on forever. Adrian, as usual, was well ahead of us here but, truth to tell, none of us spotted a needed turnoff to the left. As a consequence we just kept rising up to the interior upland – where we were greeted with a mysterious panorama of houses and masts. This required some close study of the OS map (there was a version of this in our guidebook too) but we were not exactly certain where we were until we reached a short street marked Egypte – this spot could be located on the map.
The trick now was to find a way back to the coastal path and Adrian approached some workers who were cleaning up the debris left by a tractor that was trimming roadside foliage. Unfortunately his attempt to elicit information was thwarted by a language difficulty; these chaps spoke only Portuguese. They indicated that the tractor driver might have some information for us and we followed this beast as it trundled forward and turned around. By this time I was quite certain I knew where we were and we were soon following wooded tracks downhill, hoping to rendezvous with our lost path. A local lady also offered some information on how to reach our next objective, Bouley Bay, and we were soon climbing up next to a stream in a lovely woods, finding at last a fingerpost that confirmed our position on the cliff path. We had not even reached the halfway point when we began our steep descent into Bouley Bay.
I had considered a diversion from the coastal route at this point – for a mile or so above us was the Durrell Wildlife Park; I could see how it could be reached from Bouley Bay and also how the route could be rejoined after a visit to the zoo and, perhaps, a spot of lunch. But our slow pace now convinced me that such a visit would make for just too long a day. We would have our lunch here and so we were soon seated in the dark confines of the Black Dog pub.
Looking Back at Bouley Bay.
This was a nice rest for us (I had a blt and a pint of lager) and we were soon ready to resume our march. After climbing some steps we turned left and enjoyed a fairly level stretch. Of course this soon gave way to a pattern that Paddy Dillon refers to as “roller-coaster.” We reached a cottage called Son de la Mer – where almost fluorescent flowers climbed the wall above. More headlands followed, often with fortifications or navigational towers as we pressed forward in the afternoon sun. One of these massive projections, the Rozel headland, is the site of extensive quarrying and the cliff path had to head inland here. Off on our right was the road I would have used if we had visited the Jersey Zoo and at one point a sign indicated we were only a minute or so away from this road but Adrian wanted to press ahead and soon we were floundering around on alternate field paths. Two chaps with a Border Terrier suggested how we could reach the Rue du Câtel and soon we were moving downhill amid a number of interesting private dwellings into Rozel Bay.
There seemed to be a number of places for refreshment here but we chose the Rozel Bay Tea Room and sat outside on their patio in a shady corner. I drank a strawberry milkshake – one made with real Jersey ice cream. This seemed to be a charming corner of the world – with flowers growing everywhere – but we now had to take to roadways to complete the day’s stage. By now, as well, we could say that we had completed the northern coast and were heading south along the eastern one.
Guardhouse at the Dolmen de Couperon.
There was a good deal of late afternoon traffic on the road and so it was nice to escape this with a turnoff along a track signposted “Footpath to Le Scez.” A mallard pair floated serenely on a little pond at the bottom of a little valley and we circled around them to visit the old guardhouse that stood next to the Dolmen de Couperon. I sat down for a final rest while Adrian poked about a bit and then we climbed steeply uphill, reaching at last a series of rural roadways. Right, left, left – this brought us to a mile-long stretch of roadway that headed east and gradually turned a corner to drop down to the giant St. Catherine’s breakwater.
With all of its buzzing seaside activity this might have been a logical terminus for the day’s walk but our trip organizers had mandated the more distant St. Catherine’s Tower – so we decided to give our taxi company an estimated time of arrival before setting off for a final half-mile. Curiously Citicabs did not seem to recognize our new location and matters were further confused when the distant tower which we could see (Archirondel) was much father away then the one we wanted now. This meant that after another unpleasant stint of traffic dodging (enlivened by a display of sand sculpture) we arrived at St. Catherine’s Tower (which you cannot see from the café where we made our phone call) much earlier than we had expected.
We had about twenty minutes to kill while waiting for our cab and Adrian even phoned Citicabs again, reminding them that the site also houses an RNLI station – this they recognized. It was 5:50 when our walk came to an end and I would estimate we had walked eleven miles. It had certainly been our most strenuous day and its length meant that there would be no time for a rest (just shower time) when we at last reached our hotel.
We selected the Café Spice on restaurant row tonight, an Asian restaurant that featured both Indian and Bangladeshi recipes. Naomi and I ordered on the mild side but Adrian was much more adventurous. He asked the Bengali proprietor if he could make a Hyderabadi Biryani but this was the extent of their conversation; the chap let his assistant serve us and went off to offer an hour-long lecture on Islam to some diners in a far corner. The bandage on my left elbow was still in place at bedtime.
To continue with this account you need: