Berge by bike
Graham Little pedals round the pastoral paradise that is Jersey… in an afternoon
Bwaap, bwaap, bwaaaang! Bwaap, bwa, bwa, bwaaang! Bwa, bwa, bwaaaang! Bwa, bwa, bwa, bwaaang!” Oh, will you please get out of my head, infernal Bergerac theme tune! You’re ruining my holiday.
For my generation, the satellite image of Jersey will forever morph into Jim Bergerac, though basing a cop series there for 10 years stretched the wilful suspension of disbelief. A peaceful island on which the maximum speed limit is 40mph (65kmph) and where you can only buy a house if you’ve lived there for the previous 12 years wouldn’t normally produce enough crime to fill a single episode, let alone 87.
Although Jim’s red Triumph Roadster is the best way to get around Jersey, its unavailability makes a bicycle the next best option. The island authorities have created miles of bicycle-priority lanes, along which the speed limit is 15mph (24kmph). By slightly exceeding that (but only where safe to do so, etc, etc…) you can loop the whole island in an afternoon.
Though it’s best not to set off in a gale – unless you’re a travel writer and have promised your editor a story about your attempt to loop ’round the island in an afternoon. In which case, pack your map in your waterproofs and head off anyway. But zip up your pocket, as the wind may remove your map and leave you hopelessly lost on an island that measures a mere14.5km x 8km.
This happened just half an hour along the south coast from the centre of St Helier, the island’s capital, but meant that when I arrived at Gorey, halfway up the east coast, I thought I was at the bottom corner of the island. The superbly detailed and expansive map I’d been studying the night before had completely thrown my perceptions of the size of the place.
I knew I was supposed to be following a Green Route that would bring me on a 64km lap of the coast and I picked up the signs in Gorey. Joy at finding the route was tempered by the fact that the signs pointed up a near-vertical hill overlooking the fabulous Mont Orgueill Castle. It was short but very sharp.
After the climb, which would’ve given ibex vertigo, I followed the route along peaceful country lanes further inland, surmising that if I kept the sea on my right I would loop the island and not get lost again. A fast descent through a gorge brought me to Rozel Bay, where a tiny harbour framed by cliffs breathes a gentle timelessness even on the stormiest of days.
After tackling the hill back up again, weather conditions deteriorated as the road flattened out and even some cows in a field were wearing raincoats. They did look ridiculous and more than a little embarrassed. Here’s a bizarre fact about Jersey’s Jersey cows: to avoid inbreeding, farmers are actually importing, ahem, the “essence” of Jersey bulls, so many of these Jersey icons are now only half made on the island.
Speeding cars are the curse of the cycling classes, which makes Jersey a paradise for those travelling on two wheels. The 40mph speed limit makes the island a very unlikely home for ex-Formula One drivers Nigel Mansell and Derek Warwick. How on earth did they get any practice?
I have long been intrigued by Jersey. Why are the locals so protective of a tax haven that enjoys more sunshine than anywhere else in the UK, has miles of beautiful beaches, fabulous culinary traditions, fascinating historic castles and museums, and has retained a classy reputation, avoiding the “sunny place for shady people” sobriquet that haunts Monaco and other places? I’m sure the answer is there somewhere.
Huffing across the north coast into the teeth of the gale, I rode along a lane called La Rue de Bel au Vent. Vent, oui. Bel, non. The five miles straight down the west coast to the southern bays of St Brelade and St Aubin, however, were wind-assisted and glorious. They took me past the cliffs where the neolithic people of Jersey (I haven’t been able to find a collective noun for the people of the island – perhaps Jersiacs?) used to drive woolly mammoths across the fields and over the edge to a crushing death on the rocks below. They’d struggle to drive them over now of course, what with the new 15mph speed limit…
From there I cycled above the beach all the way back to my base at the Waterfront in St Helier. Built on reclaimed land, the Waterfront is a modern development of marina, hotels, restaurants, apartments and an entertainment centre. Consider that. The locals are getting increasingly protective of their pastoral paradise – despite the fact that it’s actually getting bigger. That’s what I call selfish.
ESSENTIAL INFO
EATING & SLEEPING: We stayed at the Radisson Blu Waterfront Hotel, with truly amazing views. I took advantage of the hotel’s adventure package, with the hotel sorting my bike hire, an evening meal and an après-pedal massage. The package provides for two activities, so I also chose blowkarting, simply because I had never heard of it. It turned out to be sand yachting (see below). My extraordinarily delicious meal was served in the hotel’s excellent Waterfront Brasserie and Terrace.
I travelled with my wife and our baby, and the hotel saw to his every need, making this an excellent luxury family base with facilities including a gym and swimming pool.From £145 per room, inlcuding breakfast, The Waterfront, St Helier, tel: +44 (0)1534 671100, www.jersey.radissonblu.co.uk
ACTIVITIES: For the adventurous, sand yachting (or blowkarting) is a must. Jersey Adventures (www.jerseyadventures.com) will provide you with a yacht and a brief bit of instruction. The speed is truly invigorating and very surprising.
Castles and museums will keep the cultured and curious busy, and gastronomes are in for a treat. As well as the Waterfront Brasserie, we ate at the Oyster Box in St Brélade (tel: +44 [0]1534 743311), where novelist Jack Higgins and golfer Ian Woosnam were fellow diners, and the North Point Bistro in St Ouen (tel: +44 [0]1534 483174). For more information and inspiration, go to www.jersey.com and www.cyclehirejersey.com
