The forecast for Easter weekend was sublime. Warm, settled, sunny weather and two glorious days off work created the perfect opportunity for a short break. Having spent much of the last two or three years exploring new corners of the UK, from Norfolk to Northumberland, we turned our attention to the Channel Islands.
A stone’s throw from the Normandy coast, the islands of Jersey and Guernsey offered an intriguing prospect for a long weekend. Whether rambling along charming coastal paths or discovering the rich history and heritage of the storied shores, there was plenty to entice us in. We didn’t take much persuading to book a visit.
On this occasion, our three-night trip to the Channel Islands would see us spend the bulk of our time on Guernsey. We had originally intended to split our stay over both islands. That plan was, however, quickly thwarted when I realised that I had booked everything – flights, ferries and hotels – for the wrong weekend. Top work.
With tickets rebooked, and nursing a painful dent in the bank balance, we were at the mercy of the Easter weekend ferry timetables. Saturday and Sunday sailings proved elusive, so we opted to curtail our time on Jersey. After landing at 12:35, we would have just seven hours before catching the ferry to Guernsey later that evening. Comfy shoes were the name of the game – this was going to be a busy afternoon.
Just a short stroll…
Throngs of excited families clustered around the arrivals lounge at Jersey Airport, waiting expectantly for loved ones to arrive for the Easter break. We battled through the crowd, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of an unwieldy “Welcome Home” sign that was being waved with gusto.
We were heading for St Helier, the capital of Jersey and home to just over 35,000 islanders. Sprawling across the island’s southern coast, the diminutive city is eight kilometres from the airport.
Jersey Airport is well served by several bus routes, with regular departures into the city. With journeys lasting 30 minutes or less, the bus would normally be our go-to option. However, with a pleasant breeze and boasting lightly-packed rucksacks, we opted for the walk. The route would take us straight along the seafront – a perfect way to kick-start the trip.
We left the airport, tracking alongside a steady stream of traffic. On our left, row upon row of light aircraft stood on the grass in a quiet corner of the airport, waiting patiently for their hobbyist owners to hit the skies. Before long, our path veered off to the right, joining the busy A12 road leading straight to the water’s edge.
A steep, forested gorge dropped off beneath us. Smaller roads branched off, leading to sleepy residential streets and cul-de-sacs. Eventually, we caught our first glimpse of the sea in the distance. One final push took us through the small village of Beaumont before the glistening, turquoise waters of St Brelade’s Bay came into full view.
Exploring St. Brelade’s Bay
We arrived at low tide. From our vantage point atop the concrete sea wall, we enjoyed a prime view across one of Jersey’s most popular beaches. South-facing and shaped in a perfect crescent, the sands stretched towards the horizon. Far in the distance, the choppy waters of the English Channel danced and glistened in the early afternoon sun.
A tourist train rumbled past, carrying families relishing the early April sunshine. Cyclists swerved between the crowds, catching up with the train before taking the lead and disappearing from sight as the path curved around.
At the water’s edge, the bay was largely deserted, save for a few joggers and the occasional strolling couple. We began our walk to St Helier, sticking to the concrete pavement for a few minutes before the beach tempted us in. As we dropped to sea level, the breeze picked up, creating rivers of fine, golden sand that hissed their way along the shore, dancing around our feet.
Time slipped away as we sauntered along, passing seafront cafés and dodging stray balls – the latter inevitably chased rapidly by an overenthusiastic dog.
As we neared the outskirts of St Helier, the buildings became taller and more densely packed. Apartment blocks replaced two-story houses. Some of these blocks stood brilliantly, their art-deco style a perfect foil for the hazy blue sky.
Eventually, we reached the eastern tip of the bay. Here, silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun, the impressive walls of Elizabeth Castle came into view.
A distant view of Elizabeth Castle
One of Jersey’s most popular tourist attractions, Elizabeth Castle has watched over St Helier since the 16th century. Construction began during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, with the fortress built to help defend the island from the threat of invasion and attack by French forces.
Today, the striking fortress welcomes visitors in their thousands. Its prime location, perched on a tiny, rocky islet in St. Aubin’s Bay, makes a journey to the castle an adventure in itself. At low tide, a causeway connects the islet to the mainland. When the causeway is impassable, a castle ferry provides a shuttle service – ensuring the castle is constantly connected and ready to welcome visitors.
We shielded our eyes against the sun’s glare as we gazed towards the ramparts. In the distance, we spotted the silhouettes of visitors exploring the outer walls. The temptation to join them was high, but with limited time and empty stomachs, we knew the castle would have to wait for a future trip.
How to visit Elizabeth Castle: The castle is open every day from 10:00 to 17:30 between March and October. Tickets from £14.50 for adults and £9.45 for children.
Mission Impossible: Lunch in Jersey
By the time we arrived on the busy outer fringes of St Helier, we were ready for a break. The sun was beating down, and our rucksacks felt decidedly heavier than when we first started walking.
So we did what any self-respecting Brit would do when by the seaside, and made a beeline for the nearest ice cream stand. 99s in hand, we found a shaded bench and plotted our next move.
Food was calling us. I had excitedly planned ahead, saving the details of six of St Helier’s most interesting lunch spots. From a seafood stand in the local market to Venezuelan and Portuguese cafés, we were spoiled for choice.
Or so I thought…
Truth be told, I should have foreseen what happened next – particularly after the debacle of booking the flights for the wrong weekend. This had not been a stellar performance on the planning front.
Spotting that the Central Market was just a few minutes walk, we set off on a quest for food. The streets were quiet, and as we wandered along, we noted several restaurants and cafés that looked decidedly shut—an ominous sign.
The streets, too, were eerily quiet. It came as little surprise when, as we turned a corner, we spotted the market’s bright red, wrought iron gates firmly closed. We peered through the railings. Every shutter was firmly down. A poorly-tuned radio spluttered out crackled music from a distant stall – the only sign of life. Time for Plan B.
Discovering Jersey’s Portuguese influences
Plan B failed. The Venezuelan cafe was locked up for the weekend. Plans C and D followed suit. Everywhere seemed closed for the bank holiday, save a handful of pubs and bars that appeared to be doing a roaring trade.
Baffled and hungry, we found ourselves perched on a bench next to the quirky Steam Clock on the edge of Liberation Square. Above us, an impressive mural dominated the skyline. The painting, called ‘Home’, is the work of English artist Gabriel Pitcher, and depicts people from the Portuguese, Polish and Romanian communities who have moved to Jersey. Seven figures feature in this mammoth artwork, which stretches 600 sq m across the wall of a vast warehouse.
Seven percent of Jersey’s population was born in Portugal. As a result, the island boasts an impressive concentration of Portuguese cafes and restaurants. We spotted one – Pestico Tradicional – a short walk away, near the Havre des Pas beach.
When we arrived, a handful of smartly-dressed men were sat huddled around the small tables that spilt out on the pavement. A gentle hum of chatter and the occasional loud laugh filled the air. Each man nursed a small espresso cup and a cigarette. Everyone was speaking Portuguese – an excellent sign.
We walked through the doors and were greeted with a friendly ‘Olá!’. As we sat with our menus, a steady stream of locals came and went, grabbing espressos or pastries and conversing in Portuguese with the owners.
Beef espetada and grilled sardines were the order of the day. Both dishes offered outstanding value – plates and bowls piled high. This was unpretentious, generous home cooking at its very best. Our appetites satiated, we left with a wave and an ‘Obrigado’.
Seascapes and swimmers
The art-deco Havre des Pas Lido stands a short walk from the Pestico Tradicional. Whether stopping by for a coffee from the poolside kiosk or looking to get the blood pumping with an early-morning swim, the Lido is a popular destination for a sunny day in St Helier.
The tide was still dramatically low when we arrived, revealing a seascape of jagged rocks scattered across the horizon. In the haze of the afternoon sun, their mirage-like appearance gave the scene an otherworldly feel.
Closer to the shore, a pair of swimmers were floating lazily around an artificial pool, whose waters had been protected from the receding tide by a curved stone wall.
A young lifeguard stepped his way carefully along the wall, stopping briefly to chat with the swimmers. Eventually, all three of them made their way slowly back to the Lido building. We sat on a bench, and time became immaterial. Whether we had been there for five minutes or two hours, we eventually noticed the sun sinking lower through the sky.
Taking this as our cue, we began the walk to St Helier’s ferry terminal. Guernsey was calling.
Bidding farewell to Jersey
St Helier’s ferry terminal is located, mercifully, a stone’s throw from the town centre. Our route took us back through Liberation Square, skirting the edge of the Old Harbour before turning left shortly after passing the Maritime Museum.
As we approached the ferry terminal, a steady stream of vehicles passed us, joining a small queue of cars, trucks and camper vans. As foot passengers, we needed to collect our boarding passes from the terminal building. The interior reminded us a little of a bus station, with rows of plastic seats and a quiet, almost deserted feeling.
Two dozen fellow foot passengers were waiting. A German family tutted loudly as the tannoy announced a slight delay. A young couple, sprawled over the seats, barely glanced up from their phones. Before long, we were all grabbing our bags and making our way through a maze of corridors before hopping into a cramped minivan that shuttled us onto the ship.
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A sunset departure
The walls and turrets of Elizabeth Castle stood silhouetted against the setting sun. The ferry’s engine kicked into life, ejecting several short bursts of acrid black smoke that wafted through the evening sky. With a gentle judder, the ship began its slow departure from St Helier, gliding out of the harbour and heading towards the open water.
How we did it
- easyJet flies from Manchester to Jersey. Single fares from £22.99.
- The walk from Jersey Airport to St Helier can take as little as 1 hour and 45 minutes. Allow for longer, with plenty of time to enjoy a stroll on the beach.
- Petisco Tradicional offers excellent Portuguese fare with low prices and generous portions.
- Condor Ferries sails between Jersey and Guernsey, with multiple sailings on some days.