Sark, part three

The tour continued around the island, heading for the chocolate factory and La Coupée: the natural land bridge which links Big Sark with Little Sark.  Having met a tractor, we were soon overtaken by another boy racer (actually, it was the same boy racer!) but George preferred to continue at his normal leisurely pace.  According to April, the only place he accelerates is at a blind bend with a nominal speed restriction, but that's another story.

Next stop was La Coupée, which had to be crossed on foot (even bicycles had to be pushed).  While the land bridge itself is natural, it was reinforced with concrete and provided with safety railings after the Second World War.  The work was done by German PoWs, many of whom were left on the island after liberation.  Before the reinforcement, apparently it was sometimes necessary to cross La Coupée on hands and knees, owing to the strength of the wind.

La Coupée is also a good vantage point, as well as providing access to one of the best beaches on Sark.  Only a few hardy souls on the beach the day we were there - possibly related to the number of steps which need to be climbed on the way back (see above).

 

Eventually George took us back to The Avenue, at which point the rigmarole of reversing the horses into position started all over again.

We then wandered back to one of the eating houses on the island, which turned out to be part of the school.  Possibly the only school I've ever been to which has a comprehensively equipped bar!  While wandering around we spotted the doctor's house (including emergency transport) and another tractor which appeared to be delivering provisions to one of the shops.  Either that, or it belonged to a family which needed lots of pet food and toilet paper.  We also went past the Seneschal's office, from which the island is governed.  Posted outside was a list of recent proceedings, including details of a resident who had been "black listed" from all licensed premises - presumably for being drunk and disorderly.

After an ice cream (from the aforementioned Polo lady) we walked slowly back to catch the ferry back to St Peter Port.  This took us past the island rubbish tip, a multi-purpose telephone box and the less-than-glamorous ticket office belonging to the Ferry Company.

The journey home was relatively uneventful, although we did spent quite a long time looking as if we might crash into Herm on the way home.  In the end the ferry negotiated the narrow gap between Herm and Jethou and we arrived home unscathed.

All in all, a great day out to a unique island.  One day I'd like to go back and stay there for a few days, just for the peace and quiet.  Always assuming that the tractors don't continue to multiply and the whole place hasn't been taken over by the Barclay brothers, that is...

Sark, part two

Having arrived on Sark, the first challenge was to climb the hill from the harbour.  While some hardy souls did it on foot, the majority paid up their £1 and jumped on a trailer behind one of the Sark tractors.  Definitely money well spent!

There are no cars on Sark, which is one of its claims to fame.  I had expected this to mean "no motor vehicles", but there are actually a large number of tractors on the island: 99 at the last count, which is almost 50% up on the previous year according to someone we spoke to.  The tractors took over from the horses, which used to pull the visitors up the steep incline from the harbour as well as working the fields.  The horses now offer a wonderful way to see the island, and we booked our tickets for the tour later in the morning.

Horses, it would appear, don't have a "reverse" gear.  Backing one into position along with its peers took several people and lots of pushing and shoving.

While waiting for the horse-drawn tour we explored The Avenue, which is essentially Sark's High Street.  A real mixture of shops, including a couple of banks and a genuine French boulangerie (we met the genuine Frenchman who was running it).

Bicycles were the main form of transport for the locals, when they weren't whizzing around on their tractors, and many of the visitors hired bikes for the day.  Being lazy (or, as we were called on Herm, genteel) we decided that being pulled by a horse sounded much more attractive!  Initially, the view wasn't great...

It soon improved, though, as we trotted off along one of the lanes.  Our horse and guide for the day were George and April respectively, and they were obviously very used to working together.  A little way along the street, April declared that George was likely to stop for a "number two"; this he duly did, much to Izzi's disgust as she was sitting right behind the offending orifice.

George had a "near miss" with a tractor recently, so was very wary of them.  As a result we slowed down and gave the nasty machines a wide berth whenever we saw them.  This did mean that occasionally we were overtaken by "boy racer" horses and their drivers.

We stopped at La Seigneurie gardens which also had an excellent tea shop.  A younger member of the party was obviously exhausted by the morning's exertions, and had been lain out in the shade for a quick forty winks.  Yet more Echium (I've been practising remembering this name!) and, of course, the ubiquitous Hydrangeas - although this time pink, rather than the more usual blue.

The chap on the trap (as it were) was actually a Geordie who seemed to have made the island his home.  The lady was well-known to George, in that she drove a "stop me and buy one" ice cream bicycle.  George isn't allowed ice cream as it gives him the runs, but he was given a Polo mint in compensation.

The journey around Sark will continue in part three.  Surely something not to be missed...