Now, this is some classic LWAT chaos here. It might be a long read but if you’re interested to know how our holiday pivoted from “Operation Mincemeat” to “Les Miserables”, buckle in. I realise it makes it sound like we had a miserable time on holiday, which isn’t true, but you will eventually see what I mean.
So, our sights were set on Sicily. After an abortive attempt to go to Italy in 2020, we were confident that this would be the year that the kids would finally set foot on Italian soil but it was not to be. As we sat on the sofa the night before our flight, with bags packed I decided to check the Ryanair app one last time to make sure our airport transfers were OK.
The transfers were fine. The flights were not.
Turns out, we’d completely missed the news that Mount Etna had been erupting all week and Ryanair had not been in a hurry to tell us. In the pre-holiday frenzy of packing and finishing up work, we had not looked to check whether Catania airport was closed due to volcanic ash. Maybe we should have done that earlier on and maybe, just maybe, our airline should have given us a heads up with more than 12 hours’ notice.
Or maybe IABU. IDK.
So we called Thomas Cook in a panic, knowing that our hotel was in the shadow of Etna and may or may not be in the danger zone. At the very least, it was bound to be in the “poor air quality” zone so even if we managed to get a new flight or go a few days later, it was no guarantee of an enjoyable holiday. Thomas Cook offered to refund us the costs of the hotel and flights on the spot so we took the money and ran.
Ran where thought? Well, the unlikely answer is a small island just off the coast of France.
In the chaos of it all, I have no real answer as to why I chose Guernsey or how I came to find an available apartment for the week and some semi-convenient flights. It was just suddenly all in my basket and 38 minutes after hanging up from the call with Thomas Cook, I had booked both flights and accommodation. It was a dramatic turn of events – we would now be flying from Heathrow, not Stansted and getting the tube rather than driving. We’d be self-catering instead of all-inclusive and temperatures would be in the low 20s instead of the mid 30s. This last point might be understated, if anything – not only was Sicily warm, it was also quite literally on fire. So Guernsey was going to be quite a lot colder than that. I shoved some jeggings and socks into the suitcase that only contained my most lightweight clothes and we called the kids over to tell them about the slight change of plans.
They were remarkably sanguine about the whole thing. VK started googling and started making little noises that sounded like “Frog Rock!” and “Little Chapel!”. Roo agreed that taking his asthmatic lungs to the site of an active volcano sounded like a very bad plan indeed. And we were all happy that we could get up at 6am the next morning instead of 4am.
So, that all happened. A later start, Weaver Line, Elizabeth Line, breakfast at Five Guys (who knew that was a thing?) and a very quick flight to drop us in Guernsey around lunchtime.
Then it was time for the next part of the pivot – learning how to drive a car that looked like ours on paper but was about a decade newer. Poor Nathan never quite reconciled himself to the lack of ignition key and the “Start/Stop” button that replaced it. But happily he swotted up quickly on the Guernsey Highway Code and was soon Filtering in Turn with ease.
If only I had checked exactly where the apartment was. Ah well, he learnt how to do a three point turn on a steep hill in the hire car as well. Eventually we found our way and parked up in front of the very lovely Albany Apartments.
I’m quite pleased with my impulse buy from booking.com, it has to be said. It was an unlikely one as they are usually fully booked over the summer but they’d had a last-minute cancellation and we scooped the apartment up just minutes later. A poolside lounge, a kitchen and two bedrooms – more space than we would have had in Sicily, even if the weather was a little more unpredictable.
But for now, the sun was shining and so we made hay and walked down into St Peter Port, where a “Summer Streets” style market was taking place. We hadn’t really had lunch so we got Pad Thai for us, chips for VK and a hot dog for Roo. Plus Percy Pigs from M&S obvs. We were somewhere kinda British after all.
We browsed the craft stalls, where VK procured a trans-flag-bee and then returned to M&S for a small grocery shop before getting the bus back up the hill. That was quite enough exertion for one day.
The next day was still sunny, so we got in the hire car and headed to Cobo Bay, stopping only at Waitrose for some lunch food and more groceries. We didn’t plan to self-cater for a week, especially on an island that only had the most expensive supermarkets, but we cobbled it together somehow. We bought a load of non-perishables that would happily sit in the car boot all day and then we could finally relax a bit.
And look how pretty Cobo Bay is!
The sea was not as warm as it would have been in Sicily but it was much warmer than the river we swam in in Wales last October. That river will forever be my benchmark for cold swims (and a reminder to always take a hydrologist with you when river swimming).
We splashed around for an hour or so then went to the kiosk for ice cream, drinks and more chips. Then we walked up the hill in search of the rocks known as “Camel Rock” and “Monkey Rock”. Not “Frog Rock” yet. That would come later.
I’m not convinced we found the right rocks but we certainly found some rocks in vaguely the right shape. Time to jump back in the car and see if we could find one in vaguely the shape of a frog!
Short version: Yes, we did.
Long version: It was not easy. Bear with me.
On Google Maps, I could see a couple of parking spots near the frog but it wasn’t entirely clear which one to go for or how to get from car to rock.
So we chose the first one we came to, which was just off Route de la Rocque. Google Maps told us it was a four minute walk from there, up the road (Rue du Braye) and then on a kinda non-specific arc towards the sea. That didn’t work out, and we ended up at the other car park and very nearly wandered onto Lihou Island through the causeway.
Did I mention it was low tide? This whole thing is only possible at low tide. As is the walking route to Lihou Island. I had checked the tide times before we parked up, even if I failed to check the important things like….yknow….how to find the thing we’re looking for.
At this point, in an unusual turn of events, Nathan took over the navigating and we started scrambling over rocks in a northernly kinda direction until we spotted him….and he was majestic.
Also huge! The three of them all fit atop the rock, plus VK’s Robin toy (although he is but three apples tall). It might sound underwhelming but trust me, we were just whelmed enough to make the effort worth it.
From the rock, we could see our car in the other direction tho it was over some pretty gnarly rocks. You may know from my previous posts that VK is not exactly mobile at the moment but it’s amazing what some motivation does – both for finding the rock and for not getting stranded on a small patch of beach as the tide came in.
I have no idea how we all managed the scramble but we did. I probably wouldn’t advise it though – it’s probably better to park at L’Erée headland car park and walk from there because it’s the less tricky bit, even if it feels a bit further. And definitely, definitely go at low tide.
There is much more to tell from our Guernsey adventure but I’ll pause there as I’m not sure how to top the excitement of Frog Rock. Don’t worry tho, Part 2 will be coming up soon.
