Jun 28, 2016
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Philippines
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Kyrgyzstan
seen from Philippines
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from Philippines
seen from Philippines
seen from Vietnam
Marooned in Alderney mayhem
Thurs 6 - Sat 8 August 2015
After a grey start, the skies cleared mid-morning, and we all hired bikes for the day with the plan to cycle round the island.
First stop was Corblets, with very little beach on show as it was high water.
The Alderney Race was on frothy form – after our surreal experience the day before we knew to treat it with respect.
We spotted a yacht sailing round the eastern tip of Alderney suddenly stop dead as it reached the fort and remain stationary for ten minutes while we watched from the road.
After stopping at the Old Barn for a coffee, we set up camp on the dry sand of Longis Bay, tucked under the sea wall out of the north-westerly breeze.
We scoffed our lunch as the waters dropped, and eventually the causeway out to the abandoned fort dried enough to permit a Land Rover to cross.
It was a long hot slog up the steep hill to St Anne’s, so we celebrated with ice-creams sitting out on the open green of the Buttes, next to a vast pyre of pallets ready for the bonfire marking the end of Alderney Week.
Alderney Week seems to be a licence for madness and mayhem to descend on the otherwise quiet island. As well as the usual talent contests, raft race, human powered flight, canine assault course, fun run and face painting, they organise a semi-pagan torchlight procession, and a series of alcohol-fuelled activities, gigs and parties running round the clock.
David and Jonny were particularly interested in the Bunker parties, which run from when the pubs close through to 7am, and convert the abandoned German fortifications into makeshift nightclubs. Just that morning I had overheard a young medic who had mislaid his elder brother bemoaning the number of teenagers overcome with alcohol at the party he had attended on Wed night.
Past the bunker , and some jolly piglets, we stared out over the noisy gannet stacks, and airy views out to Casquets and Burhou – before enjoying an exhilarating long downhill ride all the way back to Braye.
The skies cleared and the evening light over the harbour was warm and mellow as we walked over to Cantina no 6 for a classy and tasty Mediterranean-styled dinner. This was Sam’s last night on the Channel Islands as he had requested evacuation by plane to the UK to get started on a coding project.
The night was calm and the stars were numerous; while David and Jonny deployed the flopper stopper in the dusk Sam and I stayed in the cockpit and spotted several shooting stars, and the faint haze of the Milky Way.
Friday
Sam and I took the water taxi this morning, as he had a huge bag and didn’t want to entrust his laptop to Betelgeuse.
A friendly taxi took us the short distance to Alderney’s miniscule and quirky airport. All the twenty or so seats on Sam’s flight to Southampton had windows.
I walked back into town from the airport; a hot 10 minutes, spotted a classic Bentley and wandered back down to Braye beach to join the others.
Sam’s plane landed soon after, and he got home to Stamford by about 4pm. It was so hot I retreated to the cool shade of the sailing club while Adrian, David and Jonny roasted themselves on the beach, and edited photos while half-listening to the idle chat among the regulars about the half-baked plans for a marina, and the more concrete events scheduled for Alderney Week.
Once it had cooled down a little, we walked along the beach and up to the remains of the Victorian fort to take in the stunning views of the rest of the island.
Sadly the idyllic weather looked like it was going to trap us in Alderney: our original plan had been to sail across the Channel on Saturday – but the forecast was for light north-easterlies, which would mean a dismal day of motoring into the wind. Sunday looked a better prospect – still light but with westerly breeze.
David and Jonny flirted with the idea of going to the Friday night bunker party, but then thought better of it, and we contented ourselves with burgers, fish and chips at the convivial chippy and another glorious sunset view.
Saturday
Alderney Week crunched into top gear today – amid sweltering heat. Braye beach was unusually crowded, with families busily creating seriously impressive sandcastles for a competition very loosely themed on “Cowboys vs Aliens”.
We walked round to idyllic Saye bay for a lunch picnic....
and then returned to catch the aftermath of the Daft Raft race: various eccentric creations were gradually disintegrating on the waters edge, having been commandeered by the younger kids.
Meanwhile a long line of teenagers assembled on the pier, daring each other to jump into the clear but cool water.
After some people-watching, I retired to the sailing club, which was far busier than usual as the crews from a yacht race from Guernsey were noisily assembling. Adrian, David and Jonny dinghied out to Orion to get her ready for the Channel crossing the next morning. We now had a neighbour on our mooring buoy, but some buoys had three or even four yachts.
The race crews drank and ate at the club – they were clearly planning to stay overnight. We walked up the hill towards the Butte and sat on the bench next to the bonfire as music from a pop-up bar in the harbour wafted up. Dinner was a tasty burger in the smart Georgian pub garden, heaving with locals and visitors keyed up for the torch-lit procession. As dusk arrived, we joined the crowds lined up along the cobbled streets as Alderney’s solo policeman removed the barriers.
Then as it grew dark, the line of blazing torches marched down Victoria Street, led by the mayor and Miss Alderney.
They kept coming and coming – there must have been thousands holding long flames aloft.
We followed the crowd to the Buttes, where the bonfire was already blazing madly, as the participants calmly took turns to hurl their torches into the blaze.
We decided to give the party a miss, and walked down in the near-dark to the sailing club, arriving just as the fireworks began: a seriously impressive display given an extra edge by the delay between the visual explosion and the sound – which then echoed off the stone breakwater and the fort opposite. Once all was calm we took the water taxi across to Orion as the bonfire burned out and the music began.