If you read the Part 1 of this series, you’ll know that we spent our holiday in Guernsey, making some serious lemonade from Sicilian lemons. One of the turning points in this whole crisis was realising that Guernsey had been home for 15 years to one Victor Hugo – someone that VK is quite the fan of. I might have mentioned this when we went to the exhibition of his artwork “Astonishing Things”. I must admit that VH was not on my mind when booking a holiday in a frenzy but as soon as I noticed there was a statue of him, I started thinking that this holiday might just work out OK after all.
We had a lazy morning after our frog-related exertions of the day before but after lunch, we headed to find the man himself. And here he was, looking out to sea and in a garden surrounded by his own quotes:
VK was obviously awestruck at the sight of him and we had to read every plaque in the Victor Hugo garden even though the plants were suffering from the drought. VH had a lot to say about plants and gardening apparently.
From there we wandered into town and did a bit of shopping, including wandering around the haberdashery at Creaseys:
Which yes, did stock the “Strawberry Thief” William Morris print. Stella would approve of her namesake.
We had a coffee in the rooftop cafe and wandered out to the balcony to look at the street of umbrellas:
And then we went to the harbour to buy our ferry tickets for our trip to Herm the next morning before stocking up on yet more groceries from the Co-Op. It seemed surreal that we were in this picture-perfect fishing village being tourists yet there were people in just finishing their work day at PWC or Barclays and picking up dinner. There were so many banks and professional services firms in that little bit of St Peter Port that it almost felt like a mini-Canary Wharf but with views of the Channel. It all made me feel weirdly at home.
I might have spoilered this already but the next morning, we went to Herm. The name really lends itself to all manner of “home”-based puns and, if you check the post title, you’ll see that I am not above that kind of thing. After all, Herm is where the heart is, as the gift shop told me. It’s also where not a lot of other things are cause it is really very tiny – just a mile and a half from end to end. But there were two pubs and one of them seemed to do VK’s preferred brand of vegan burger, according to Google Photos. That was a better result than I had any reason to expect but I underestimated Guernsey in many ways. Everywhere we went there were vegetarian options for VK and dairy-free options for me. I was never very far from a soy latte, even on Herm.
It was a slightly drizzly morning as we waited for the ferry but don’t worry, it turned into full-on rain by the time we had walked down the pier to find the Trident boarding point. Don’t forget, we had packed for Sicily in the midst of a 6-week London heatwave so we couldn’t even remember where our raincoats might be. We had learnt nothing from the Paris adventure. But we did sing “Sail on Boys” to ourselves as we shuffled along the jetty in the stormy weather so that’s something.
It was still a little windy by the time we got to Herm and more rain was threatening:
It was also nearly lunchtime so we went to the Mermaid Tavern to wait out the weather. We had a Pepsi and then ordered food once it turned 12. The menu had had an update since the Google Photos version so they no longer did Beyond burgers or halloumi fries but there was another vegan burger option that VK gamely agreed to try. She didn’t like it but she tried it and ate the brioche bun, so that’s something.
And no, I didn’t think we’d find brioche buns on Herm either. Or bao buns for that matter.
By the time we’d had lunch, it had brightened up a bit so we decided to channel the mid 2000s phenomenon “Lost” and walk to the other side of the island. Herm does have that Dharma Initiative feel, especially when you find metal plates in the ground under the sand:
And inexplicable white pillars:
Herm also has a very speedy bull, if you believe this sign:
We almost put this to the test as a gust of wind took Nathan’s hat off and whisked it towards the bull-field. It didn’t get anywhere near going over the gate but we’ll tell the grandkids it did….isn’t this how family legends always start? “Do you remember that time when you had to race a raging bull to retrieve your cowboy hat on Herm?” Or something like that.
Our destination was Shell Beach, an idyllic-looking white sand beach on the eastern side of the island. There was a rather steep hill in the middle so we took a gentle route past Fisherman’s Cottage and then turned right across what looked like moorland, with ferns growing out of the sand. It was hard to believe that we were only a few miles from the nearest branch of M&S but the bag Nathan is carrying should clue you in on that. It wasn’t the middle of nowhere, it was just pseudo-nowhere. I was coping very well, considering my fear of all things rural.
VK was doing very well with the walking on this trip, which was just as well. There wouldn’t be a lot of other options if she did decide not to walk any further. But it was only around 20 minutes’ dawdle from the Mermaid Tavern to Shell Beach and it really was as pretty as they say:
Sadly, it started to rain again as soon as we got there. Nathan sat under a towel and the kids and I decided to go for a paddle on the “well, we’re going to get wet anyway” principle.
Happily, it got sunnier again. So much so that we could have an ice cream at the Shell Beach Kiosk:
I had a lovely raspberry sorbet and could have had a soy latte if I’d wanted one. See, I told you I’d misjudged the Isles of Guernsey.
I wanted a swim but I was aware that the weather could turn chilly again very quickly and that we were a 20 minute walk away from the nearest hot shower, if not a 20 minute ferry ride away. So I resisted the urge to plunge in to the beautifully clear waters. Also, the tide was out and I had to walk a long way to even get up to my knees…so that helped with the self control.
Conscious of not missing our boat back, we walked back across the island to the Herm store and bought cold drinks, a stick of rock and a little cuddly seagull for VK. I think she named him “Chips”.
I should explain that for tickets to Herm, there is only one ferry service – Trident – and when you book returns you have to book a specific time for outbound from Guernsey but not a specific time back. But the last ferry back is 17:35 and you don’t want to end up Famous Fiving it for the night. Just to be cautious, I was aiming for the 16:35, which was sailing from the low tide point of Rosaire Steps rather than the harbour we’d been dropped off at. It was quite clear why that was the system when we passed the harbour and there was no water to be seen. I’d factored in extra time to walk the extra bit to the Steps but, as usual I overbudgeted and we were about 45 minutes early for the boat. So we found a small piece of shade because the weather really had not turned chilly again, had our drinks and played musical theatre-themed alphabet games until it was time.
This doorway to the steps does have a real “Narnia, edge of the world” vibe, doesn’t it?
And the views from the steps themselves were just insanely beautiful:
There wasn’t much space to sit or even stand on the steps but they aren’t as narrow and slippery as I was fearing. VK managed to wait on them a while and perched on a rock but it wasn’t the world’s most comfortable waiting room.
On the way back, we passed by the private island of Jethou. Not to be confused with Jet2, which was last year’s holiday:
And back to the Co-Op for yet more supplies before bussing it home. There will be a Part 3, don’t worry…I will not rest until you know everything there is to know about wrangling a vegetarian, Les Mis-obsessed teen around a small island. Except I’m going to go to bed now, so I don’t mean that literally. But I will return….
