Last Glimpse of Guernsey and the Channel Islands

It was hard to leave the Channel Islands. Beautiful, rugged, a glimpse of the past. Part of the UK, but not of England.

St Peter Port



Havelet Bay



Sark

The tangle of rocks around the islands of Herm and Jethou need careful navigation; swift tides press the unwary onto their sharp pinnacles. Once clear, the Big Russel channel is quickly crossed, before the rocks lurk menacingly again.

There are no cars on Sark. The island rises vertically from the sea. Small coves, and bays, surrounded by cliffs, give some shelter and anchorage. Access is a steep climb up hundreds of winding steps to the cliff top. Sark's feudal laws still prohibit divorce; and the eldest son inherits all. The roads are empty and un-metaled. You are more likely to meet a waddle of ducks, or a horse-drawn trap, than even a tractor. Houses, are discretely set back, their gardens a delight. Life (appears) easy, slow, and laid back.



Squeezed in between the Isle of Brecqhou and Sark itself is the little cove, Harve Gosselin, with a peaceful mooring just out of reach of the 7knot tide that rips through the tiny gap and it's rocky entrance. It looked idyllic. The view down from the cliff tops was awesome. Waking in the morning to a thick, pea-souper of fog, unable to see any of the cliffs, or the rocks just a few metres away was not pleasant. Thank goodness for a good radar, and electronic charting!

Leaving the islands in the early morning sun we headed NW. The wind picked up through force 3 to force 4, then 5. It was great sailing. Approaching the first of the shipping lanes the fog came back. The radar showed several shipps hidden from our view, and all close. A quick All Ships call on the VHF to share our position, course and speed, saw two ships kindly alter course, and cross our stern.

The fog dissipated. The sun came out, and we romped across the last 30 miles into Salcombe.