Away in Alderney

Forget Ibiza, Mallorca, and even Tahiti. INstead pack you bags and set sail for beautiful Alderney. John Hillman explains.
Growing up is one of the unfortunate side effects of being alive. We start off full of wonder and enthusiasm and end our days in a state of permanent scowling misery, well most men do anyway.
Whereas women tend to grow old and become nice chatty grannies, we males tend to morph into a sort of horrible twisted grump – like evil character from a children’s story book that lives in a dustbin at the end of the garden, we complain about everything, confident in our knowledge that everything would have been fine of only the human race had done it our way.
There is a good reason for this, when we are young we are the lords of the backyard, the heroes of the heath, unable to wait for the day when we can finally leave home and become Thor Warhammer or Sinbad the Sailor – to head out for a life filled with storming castles and vanquishing baddies.
But in the words of Ice T, “shit aint like that”, no it most certainly is not. We all know what life in the modern world is really like and it has precious little to do with being Vikings.
Perhaps this is why there are few things that appear as exciting as visiting a small island, that little tightening of the stomach muscles as it appears on the horizon, the sudden lightening of the spirit and a strange urge to grab a broadsword and lead a sortie onto the beach.
I’m writing this because this is precisely how I feel whenever I approach the Channel Islands and in particular the tiny island of Alderney.
At just three miles long and one and a half miles wide this is total boys own fantasy stuff, and it’s genuine too. This Island really did have Elizabethan Buccaneers defending the realm from dastardly continental types, and it even had proper evil-Nazi bases, just like the ones from the comic books.
Today of course Alderney is home to a much more subdued sort of resident and the closest it gets to being invaded is during the summer by a few thousand wobbly tourists. But there is so much happening on Alderney and it has got so much outstanding natural beauty to discover that you shouldn’t really be running around in chainmail anyway because you would probably just miss it.
A far more sensible approach should be to get in touch with the Alderney Wildlife Trust and arrange to see some of the more modern invasions that take place each year by the vast array of marine and terrestrial wildlife, not to mention the unique fauna. All of which is attracted to Alderney by virtue of it having the only greenbelt in the Channel Islands.
The Channel Island are just a short boat ride away from Normandy, which you can get to on board the Pride of Bilbao as it makes its way to northern Spain. It might not be how Sir Walter Raleigh got there, but then the number of his boats skulking around on the sea-bed is perhaps a salient reminder that maybe the modern world isn’t such a bad place after all.




