When we woke up on Tuesday, July 30th, we had ten hours left on Guernsey. I intended to make the absolute most of it. In fact, I did so well at "making the most of it" that I traveled 30,000 steps on foot and was so tired at the end of the day that my journal entry was weak and brief, with a scant three lines about each activity of the day. The day was so full that I broke it down into two posts. Here's my feeble journal entry about my exhilarating morning run:
July 30th, 2019. I went on an exciting wet windy rough run on the Guernsey cliff path this morning, from St. Peter Port all the way down to Jerbourg Point and then back on the roads. It was SO WINDY! First came rain, then came WIND. It was tons of fun though and so beautiful with the green all around me and the roaring ocean down below.
That is not nearly enough to do justice to the 90 minutes I spent exploring the Cliff Path. Time for a supplementary retrospective recounting:
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, the inspiration for this quick side trip, (and one of my favorite books), is set in St. Martin's Parish on the southwest part of Guernsey. That's where I ran, along the rugged breathtaking Cliff Path, and this run filled nearly every Guernsey fantasy I had managed to dream up (the only dreams that weren't filled were the sunny blue-skies-warm-beaches ones). The morning was wet and cloudy, with a moody gray sea swooshing underneath an equally moody gray sky. I wore my bright pink hat both to protect my glasses from being spattered in raindrops and to give a pop of color to the gloomy monotone weather.
Our hotel was a short third of a mile at most from the start of the Cliff Path. As I jogged to the steps leading to the trail, I congratulated myself yet again on finding such a great place to stay. Seriously, while planning this trip, I painstakingly researched every single lodging for our entire month-long trip and it paid OFF. We had the best balance of location, amenities, and cost at each and every place we stayed. Anyways, my first stop on the Cliff Path trail (because this was more of a run-hike, not a full-on run-run) was the Clarence Battery. I'm afraid my knowledge of all the details involved is patchy at best, but thankfully I took a picture of the informational plaque, which says that the Clarence Battery is a historic defensive place on the island, dating from the 1770s. It had a good view and interesting buildings.
The Cliff Path was much more rugged than I expected it to be based on our previous day's bus rides through the well-groomed carefully clipped gardens and houses on northwestern Guernsey. They saved some wilderness after all, and a large chunk of it was on the Cliff Path. All along the 3 mile stretch of trail that I ran were turnoffs to go down steep stone steps to the sea. I went down every single set of stairs for the first two miles, shredding my quads. The ocean was extra wild and foamy in the stormy weather, and it was a rush to climb down to it.
I ran past Fermain Bay--a lovely crescent of a beach that is mentioned in the book. Leslie and I referred to TGLAPPPS book as "the book" while we were on Guernsey because honestly, the title is too long for everyday wear. Anyways, It gave me a little thrill every time I experienced a Literary Location in person. Literary tourism is FUN, I'm telling you--even for historical fiction like "the book" is. Rain splattered me off and on while I ran along.
By the time I made it to Jerbourg Point, the rain had moved off and wind had moved in. I nearly lost my beloved pink hat, and had to turn it backwards and cinch it painfully tight onto my head to keep the wind from ripping it off my skull. I live in eastern Washington and this Guernsey coastal wind was still shockingly strong to me. At one point as I picked my way along an open section of trail, I worried that I'd be blown over the cliff! When I huffed and hiked up the 100+ stairs up to the viewpoint of Jerbourg Point, I decided to run back to the hotel on the roads rather than on that exhaustingly rugged slick-rock, windy Cliff Path.
When Leslie and I rode the bus the previous day, we were dismayed at the 6 foot high stone walls that lined all of the roads because even from the bus they made it difficult to see anything beyond the narrow road ahead. The next day when I turned inland on my run, however, I suddenly understood the purpose of those high stone walls--protection from strong winds! It was such a relief to get out of the hat-snatching intensity and jog along calmly while the trees above swirled. Traversing those deep walled street "canyons" allowed me to see the darling details in and among the walls, from inlaid mailboxes to cottage nameplates to adorable homemade kiosks selling garden produce on the honor system. I used nearly my entire phone battery taking pictures on this one run. Worth it!
The trail was marked with lumpy tombstone-like carved rock signs. I found them more rustic than creepy.
Heading southwest, with St. Peter Port behind me and the wild water below me. Usually I use Adobe Lightroom to brighten up exceptionally dark cell phone pictures, but a week or so into our trip, my computer zapped Lightroom when its battery died while I was using the program and now it won't work and I can't re-download it until we get home. I do such minimal photo editing that I didn't think it would be too big of a deal not having Lightroom, but even a tiny bump in the exposure makes such a difference on cloudy photos! It really was quite dark during my run.
Where the Cliff Path meets St. Peter Port.
A swimming area or "bathing pool" on a stormy day--not so very tranquil!
Road on the right, ramp on the left, Cliff Path entrance in the middle (at the end of the stone wall in the foreground).
I easily climbed and descended over 1,000 stairs on this adventure.
Clarence Battery entrance
Looking back
[still the Clarence Battery]
Standing on a "flank gun mounting."
Looking back at St. Peter Port from Clarence Battery with Castle Cornet on the far right out in the ocean.
This little nook in the Clarence battery was actually really freaky--musty and tight quarters.
Back on the Cliff Path--look at that glorious greenery! It's hard to imagine most of these trees GONE, cut down during the German Occupation. The whole island hardly has any trees that are older than 70 years.
It felt like I was the only person on the island in these woods! A small plaque informed me that these were the Bluebell Woods, which must be dreamy in springtime with all of the flowers.
It wasn't super cold, but I put my jacket on every time it started raining because I didn't want to get wet and then freeze in the wind. It worked nicely--I adore my Icebreaker merino wool mesh lined windbreaker jacket. I can be a bit of a gear nerd, but as a highly sensitive person, finding the perfect clothing makes an enormous difference to me. This jacket is AMAZING. I've sung its praises before, and I'll likely do it again, haha.
I couldn't get enough of these stairs through the woods.
Every now and then, the path opened up to a roaring ocean vista, and even when I couldn't see the ocean, I could almost always hear it while I was on the Cliff Path.
Staring down into rough heaving ocean water is a rush every time.
For the record, I took far more selfies on this run than I am posting. That's Castle Cornet way out in the background.
My first glimpse of Fermain Bay!
Hello, Fermain Bay.
The path was treacherous anytime the stairs ended.
On the other side of Fermain Bay--it took a while to get around it.
A Cliff Path access gate to Seagull Cottage charmed me.
More Cliff Path cottages. In the book, many of the characters have their own little beaches with access from their houses--I imagine these are the type of cottage they lived in.
What, a relatively smooth section of trail?
The rain was blown away.
Not exactly the clifftop scenic wild-n-free running picture of my dreams, but the best I could manage.
These pinkish purple flowers were so hardy that I plucked two stems of them and carried them home in my shorts pocket.
Zen
Jerbourg Point in the distance.
Wind ripping at everything, hat squeezing my skull.
You really can't see the wind in this picture, but trust me, it was THERE at the top of Jerbourg viewpoint--I got outtathere fast because it felt like it could toss me down into the sea.
Now for a tranquil jog past the most adorable cottages of all time.
This place was unreal.
FYI, this is a two way street.
The blue mailbox was a part of the stone wall. This was one of my favorite stretches of road I ran on--after a few minutes I discovered that I had taken a wrong turn to get there, but I wasn't sad about it one bit.
Every house had a name--I saw no house numbers, just NAMES. The lexophile in me was singing.
This was one of the more advanced home goods kiosks, selling home baked breads. One of the signs says "No cash or change? No problem. Pay next time." Nothing makes me feel warm-fuzzier than the honor system in action.
I believe a certain pig farmer [fictional] by the name of Mr. Dawsey Adams lived on this road. Swoon.
The plaque over the garage says Rose Cottage.
The winding downhill road back into St. Peter Port had a sidewalk, thankfully--I wouldn't want to risk those blind narrow curves without one.
THIS RUN WAS A DREAM COME TRUE!!
THIS RUN WAS A DREAM COME TRUE!!
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