I smiled at the irony of a man in a Panama hat, accompanied by a woman swathed in silk scarves, stopping their convertible vintage sports car to give way to our Number 1 bus as it left Liberation Station in St Helier. I was taking the green route across Jersey, travelling by bus, bike and boot power, not just to discover its eco-friendliness, but also to enjoy a holiday where I truly slowed down.
My journey began on a train from London to Poole, where I picked up the ferry to St Helier. It may have taken longer than flying, but with time and space to study my maps, create an itinerary, finish a novel, and expose my vitamin D-deprived skin on deck, I arrived rested, with a healthy glow and ready to go.
My first morning’s bus stop was, rather aptly, at Green Island, just a few miles east of St Helier. ‘Just pop down that lane for the beach,’ said the bus driver, seeing me drool over the sight of crystalline waters on the coast road out of town, or perhaps just spotting my towel tucked into the top of my backpack. I always carry a swimsuit when exploring as you never know when the calling may come. And boy, did it come. Green Island is, in fact, a peninsula, with soft white sand and gentle waves. At 9am a few young families were already paddling, with sleepy parents clutching caffeine fixes from the shoreline’s gorgeous Green Island Restaurant. I was particularly impressed by the Homefield Foods delivery van outside, a local food supplier whose displayed motto is ‘from seed to plant to field to plate’.
After a wake-me-up swim did just that job, I headed off in the direction of Gorey, jumping on the next bus which, although already at the stop, kindly waited for me. This was my experience of bus drivers throughout the island, always keen to help, answer any questions, let me know when my stop was coming, and always with a smile.
Gorey is a small fishing village with boats of every size and shade bobbing merrily, and where the view of the impressive medieval castle of Mont Orgueil almost made me miss my connecting bus. In search of the island’s natural rather than cultural heritage, I was heading for St Catherine’s Woods, just outside the bay of the same name. A short walk up from the coast road brought many coves into view, all segueing seamlessly one into another to create one big, peaceful mother bay.
The woods were divinely serene too, with only a couple of families playing on stepping stones and rope swings. With most of Jersey’s trees felled during the German Occupation, it was delightful to see not only the remains of ancient ferns and broadleaves, but careful woodland management at work through coppicing and clearing, allowing the likes of sparrowhawks, red squirrels, bluebells and foxgloves to thrive. I soon forgot the map I had downloaded, and just followed my nose as it adapted to the ever-changing, heady aroma of mossy stones, pine, wild sorrel and dried wood.
I could have hopped on another bus back to Gorey but the coastal footpath, which was heading in my chosen direction, was enticing me onto its pink granite walkways. I finally emerged at the Archirondel Tower, where that siren-like sea beckoned one more time. Delicious swims merit delicious lunches, and there’s no better place than the Driftwood Café at the top of the beach, with a fresh crab salad to make my morning complete.
The next step of my bus journey was easy, with about three different buses heading from different directions to La Mare Wine Estate, St Mary, in the north of the island. And after sampling some of its products on a superb tour of the vineyards and distillery, I was very glad that I wasn’t driving. It’s always a treat to drink local wine when travelling, but with red, white, sparkling, cider and apple brandy on the menu, I really didn’t want to leave. I was particularly struck by La Mare’s commitment to revive apple orchards on an island where, in the early 1800s, over eight million litres of cider were produced. La Mare is planting new trees every year, just one of many initiatives contributing towards its status as Jersey’s only Green Tourism Business Scheme Gold Award holder.
Jersey’s most impressive green scheme dates from 1987 with the designation of 50 miles of Green Lanes, a network of country roads where the speed limit is clearly restricted to 15mph and where walkers, cyclists and horse riders are given priority. Keen to explore these lanes and the west of the island, my hotel – the Best Western Royal in St Helier, also a Green Tourism Business Scheme member – arranged for a hire bike to be delivered.
I started off by following the cycle lane along the coast from St Helier to St Aubin, picking up the cycleway along the disused railway line to Corbière in the far south-west of the island. Than it was on around the headland to spectacular St Ouen’s Bay, catching sight of everything from children quietly rock pooling to watersports heroes in kite surfing heaven.
St Ouen’s is a hive of activity, but I locked my bike at the Watersplash surf bar and walked just a few minutes into a different world of marram grasses, wild orchids and dunes known as Les Mielles, where abundant butterflies and birds were savouring the solitude. Indeed, I even found a birdwatching shelter and quickly spotted a pair of marsh harriers, elegantly gliding to and fro, as if to show the kite surfers how it should really be done. This area, a haven for lapwings, sand martins and oystercatchers, is cared for with excellent conservation management schemes by The National Trust for Jersey and, as I looked out across the grasslands, ponds, dunes, ancient potato fields, orchid fields and seascapes, I thanked the ‘green gods’ that it’s all part of an area soon to become Jersey’s first National Park.
Leaving the coast, I turned inland straight onto a Green Lane, clearly marked on my map and also by very visible signs on the lanes themselves. Within minutes I was cycling up lavender-lined paths, past flower-filled gardens and fecund fields, greeting other cyclists and walkers, all of us revelling in the fact that, for once, we had right of way over cars.
I cycled for about 20 minutes to St Peter’s Village, with the incentive of a reward at the Classic Herd Farm Shop, famous for its own cheeses and yoghurts, beef and pork, so it must also have its own ice cream, I thought. I was not to be disappointed, as I tucked into a creamy, well-earned treat, in the knowledge that it was one big, breezy downhill cycle back to the south coast for my other long-awaited treat of the day – one last swim in the bay at St Aubin, where the tide was high and, after my quick green hit of this beautiful island, so was I.