We cross the maritime border into Jersey, or to be more precise: to the Bailiwick of Jersey. This is because their territory also includes the ‘Minkies’ – a group of rocks that are submerged at high tide. The south coast of the main island of Jersey has, of course, long been in sight. Relatively central, framed by two wide bays – Saint Aubin Bay to the west and Saint Clement’s Bay to the east – lies the main town of Saint Helier with its large ferry port. Four bright high-rise buildings serve as a clear landmark.
Arrival in Jersey: Saint Helier Marina
Our destination is Saint Helier Marina, the innermost basin. Here, too, everything is massive and imposing, designed to provide protection from the sea. With Elizabeth Castle on our port side, we enter the marina, passing the traffic control tower (VHF 14) and the entrance to the marina. The traffic light at the sill It flashes green twice, then white once: Take care when entering! The marina’s aluminium boat will immediately come alongside and assign you a berth.
The basin is rectangular, with eight-metre-high walls built from large granite blocks. The flagpoles at the top of the wall reveal the international origins of the current guests: Germany, France, the Netherlands and the USA. The British are also guests here and are given their Union Jack. Everything here is solid and technically up to the highest standard; the service areas are clean and the information signs are polite. The marina office is housed in an old warehouse dating from Queen Victoria’s time, right next to the Maritime Museum, which we plan to visit tomorrow.
Everything you need to know about the Gulf of Saint-Malo:
- France: A hidden gem in the Gulf of Saint-Malo – the Îles Chausey
- The Isle of Jersey – a little world of its own
- Guernsey and Herm – two very different neighbours
- The Isle of Alderney – a taste of the Caribbean in the English Channel
As a large screen confirms, the weather over the next few days is set to be far from summery: north-westerly winds of force 6 to 7 are forecast, persistent, occasionally even reaching force 8, with a fair bit of swell to boot. That’s too much for us – and from the wrong direction, too. Our next destination, Guernsey, lies to the north-west. Instead of a two-day stay, it’ll end up being four days – even if we don’t realise that when we arrive. Fortunately, we’ve got time. First, we need to clear customs, which can be done online from Jersey, or straight away on the computer in the marina office. There’s no face-to-face check, which is nice in these times.
Saint Helier: Freedom is highly valued
As the sun comes out, we head straight ashore. Saint Helier is rather unassuming: grey residential and commercial buildings, though with polished signs at the entrances – I wonder if they belong to shell companies? We turn off, then head via Seaton Place and Seale Street – a bit like London, third-rate. Up The Parade, where it gets livelier, to the Parade Grounds with the monument to General Don – that really was his name. As governor, he saved Jersey from Napoleon’s clutches. Heading towards Broad Street and King Street, it gets really pretty, with little shops and restaurants. The Royal Yacht Hotel evokes the glory of days gone by; garlands of flags flutter above the pavement, some bearing the Union Jack, others the Jersey flag: the red St Andrew’s Cross with the three lions of the island’s coat of arms.
The crew meet up again at the Troubadour; the bar serves the local beer: Liberation. The liberation from German occupation at the end of the Second World War – and the occupation itself – must have left such a deep mark that it’s present everywhere: Liberation Square, Liberation Station with the Liberty Bus, the Freedom Tree on the promenade, and now Liberation Ale. Although, there’s no need for irony. Let’s see if we can get a bit closer to the story tomorrow. The Occupation Tapestry is also on display at the museum; I’m looking forward to seeing it. Once the sun goes down, it gets cold quickly. On the way back, my gaze lingers on an engraved paving slab. It’s the last in a series depicting the individual levels of the Beaufort scale: ‘Hurricane – Yacht crews decide to take up golf.’
In the south-west of Jersey: La Corbière
The next morning, it’s suspiciously peaceful in the shelter of the deep harbour basin. Up on the wall, however, a different wind is blowing – in the truest sense of the word. As forecast, the north-westerly wind is making the flags flap. We want to see for ourselves what effect this has on the sea: at the La Corbière lighthouse. The taxi to the south-western tip of the island costs a whopping 30 Jersey pounds, but the driver gives us some insight in return: that People from Jersey They speak of England or Europe, depending on which direction they are travelling in as they leave the island. And that, despite all their autonomy – with their own language and currency – they still feel connected to the British Crown (and its current holder) as a Crown possession.
The route takes you along Saint Aubin Bay, through the deserted hamlet of the same name, a short stretch through woodland, up and down, through residential areas, until the houses finally disappear and the narrow tarmac road, after a few bends, ends at a hotel car park. High up here, we’re on the edge of the cliffs; the sea is full of white-capped waves – and directly ahead, less than a kilometre away, the white tower rises from the rugged rocks. What a dramatic panorama! Further out at sea, there’s certainly plenty going on: the ferry to England is just coming into view. The large ship must be working hard in the rough seas; the spray is flying right up to the bridge’s crest.
To the lighthouse at low tide
Yet the path to the 150-year-old structure is now dry, with wide concrete slabs leading across it that look as safe as a road on dry land. Only the wet sand and the small pools on either side serve as a reminder that, twice a day for several hours, the landscape lies at the bottom of the sea and the waves can roll freely over it. A new blue sign warns unsuspecting pedestrians of the danger; a siren sounds shortly before the causeway would be flooded.
An old plaque, on the other hand, illustrates the potential consequences of carelessness: it commemorates Peter Edwin Larbalestier, the lighthouse keeper’s assistant, who lost his life on 28 May 1946 whilst attempting to rescue a visitor who had been caught unawares by the rising tide. Take heed, all ye who pass by! It is only at the base of the tower itself that you reach safe ground again; a horizontal strip along the brown rocks marks the high-water line. The tower is not open to the public, and there is no café either. A small viewing platform and a bench sheltered from the wind will have to suffice for a break before heading back. An impressive spot.
No island is complete without a maritime museum
Back in Saint Helier, I spend the rest of the afternoon visiting the Maritime Museum, right by the marina. A compact but varied exhibition – often surprisingly personal. Even the model ships, such as that of HMS ‘Swallow’, are a case in point. It depicts the moment when, on 2 July 1767, the three-masted ship discovered an unnamed island in the vast expanse of the Pacific. You can almost feel the excitement on board, even on a 1:50 scale, as every crew member is depicted, crammed together on the foredeck, in the shrouds and on the yards. To be precise, it was a 15-year-old ensign who spotted the island: Robert Pitcairn. It still bears his name today. Pitcairn, which soon gained dubious fame as a place of refuge following the mutiny on the ‘Bounty’. The captain of the ‘Swallow’, Philip Carteret, was from Jersey.
Just like another skipper from the island who was seized by wanderlust, albeit two centuries later: David Sandeman. His ‘Sea Raider’ has also been perfectly recreated, from the autopilot and the Avon life raft right down to sail number 53. In 1976, at the age of 17, he crossed the Atlantic single-handed in the 35-foot sloop, becoming the youngest person ever to do so. It took him 43 days to make the crossing from Jersey to Newport, Rhode Island. His record stood until 2002.
A carpet tells a story
The museum building also houses the Occupation Tapestry. There are many ways to bring history to life through the lens of war. Here, a particularly artistic approach has been chosen: the hand-woven tapestry. Much like its famous predecessor, the Bayeux Tapestry, it depicts the entire course of events, from the Wehrmacht’s capture and occupation of the island in late June 1940 to its liberation in May 1945. The twelve original panels – now thirteen – in panoramic format are each 90 centimetres high and twice as wide.
Painted in bold colours and in the style of the 1960s, they depict a variety of scenes, ranging from the everyday life of the islanders to the plight of the forced labourers conscripted to build the fortress. In its dimly lit gallery, accompanied by trilingual explanations, the tapestry offers a unique experience. The first twelve panels were created by Jersey’s twelve parishes over a period of seven years and unveiled to the public on 9 May 1995 – marking the 50th anniversary of the liberation. The thirteenth panel was added in 2015 to mark the 70th anniversary. Its theme: remembrance – and reconciliation.
Travelling east by bus: Gorey
On the second day, we decide not to take a taxi to go exploring. This time, our destination is the east of the island: Gorey, a small harbour town. Our number 2 bus winds its way along narrow roads, some of which are bordered by tall hedges (the bus is correspondingly compact). The journey takes just under half an hour, taking us through the villages of Grouville and La Ville-ès-Renauds, before we reach our stop: Gorey Pier. A pretty little turning area with a sailing dinghy planted with flowers in the middle, followed by a promenade lined with palm trees and then the waterfront with a row of old houses and the bay, bordered by a pier, which serves as a harbour – only it’s completely dry at the moment. Towering above it all are the walls and battlements of Mont Orgeuil Castle, a castle straight out of a picture book.
We descend the harbour steps and walk once more along the foreshore, past visitor moorings, a tangle of chains, open fishing boats and a small trawler lying on its side. Across the sand, then towards the Castle; the Germans added a few towers, cleverly camouflaged in terms of architectural style and materials: they housed the Kriegsmarine’s rangefinders. We climb onto the pier, where dinghies are lined up, like books on a shelf, in the windy air. In return, there’s an endless view along the coast to the south, until the gleaming white sandy beach fades into the distance. This is how I imagined Jersey, the sunniest place in the British Isles – if only it weren’t for the wind.
Endless rain. So what?
The thick, grey clouds of the third day mean that most crews are staying below deck in the harbour. On the large aluminium ketch from Hoek van Holland, which arrived yesterday and is now moored alongside us, they’ve hung their salt-encrusted oilskins out in the rain. Showers keep lashing across Saint Helier. Around half past ten, the sky clears a little. Now it’s time for Elizabeth Castle, which has stood guard over the harbour on its tidal islet since the 16th century. Much like La Corbière, it can only be reached at low tide.
Down to the beach. The path is surprisingly muddy, and even now we still have to cross a small stream via some stepping stones laid out along the way. But after a good quarter of an hour, our little group reaches the paved ramp leading up to the gate. We make way for the high-legged ‘swimming bus’ that shuttles back and forth here, and just as we’re about to go in, we spot the price tag: £15.95. Suddenly, none of the three of us feels like visiting a castle covered in scaffolding against a grey sky. There are better ways to spend the money – for example, in the evening at the Cock & Bottle on Royal Square – for Cumberland sausage pinwheels and coastal cheddar with ale chutney.
The walk back at dusk, however, takes us through yet another downpour. Despite this, it’s getting louder and louder ahead of us, with more and more people crowding the street: the festival at Weighbridge Place has opened! Terrible weather, but the young islanders don’t seem to mind a bit. Music booms and lights flash. Lots of noise, lots of skin and flimsy summer dresses fluttering like wet flags. At least the sky has a change of heart. We grab a round of Stinky Bay from a stall and wait for the wind to dry us off.
Our last day on Jersey: La Rocque
The last day! It’s already cleared up, and the wind is due to ease off from this afternoon, at least a little. I get off the bus at La Rocque. The village lies on the south-eastern tip of Jersey; from here, the Violet Bank stretches out into the sea like a huge wedge of rock, one and a half nautical miles long and two nautical miles wide at its base. This reef, too, falls almost entirely dry and reveals – much like on the Îles Chausey – a chaotic world of rock pillars, sandbanks, lagoons and trickling streams. Just as it is right now. In ancient times, when sea levels were lower, Neanderthals are said to have lived here.
Far out, on the low-water mark: Seymour Tower. Built at the end of the 18th century to defend the island, it is not only accessible on foot but also offers simple accommodation options. That would have been something: a night in the castle instead of on board! I see walkers who have just set off. Soon they disappear from view behind a rock. Instead, I head down to the beach, where a few holidaymakers are sitting in the shade of the high sea wall. It’s almost completely windless here – a real taste of high summer. I take photos of boats on the dry sand, of the sky-high pier and of the rocky horizon. This is how I’ll remember Jersey.
Everything you need to know about the Gulf of Saint-Malo:
- France: A hidden gem in the Gulf of Saint-Malo – the Îles Chausey
- The Isle of Jersey – a little world of its own
- Guernsey and Herm – two very different neighbours
- The Isle of Alderney – a taste of the Caribbean on the English Channel
Christian Tiedt
Editor Travel