it is very hot today
May. 24th, 2026 05:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_shoshannalike, genuinely hot, 30C/86F and blazingly sunny.
It was a nice fifteen-minute walk down the hill to the bay, except for the awareness that we would have to climb back up the slope. Most of it was on one of the old roads on which vehicles are no longer allowed, so they're wider than footpaths but still quiet, and we wound through the usual green banks. Sometimes you can tell that the mossy ferny small-tree-y banks you're walking between are old, overgrown stone walls that have almost disappeared under the long accumulation of greenery and soil, and often you can't. We also passed an old stone watering trough, which water was still running through and past, in a small trickling stream that paralleled us all the way to the top of the bay, where we saw yet another round tower that was built to defend against the French in the late 1780s, and the ruins of what had been a water wheel about two hundred years ago. Also, remember the Renoir Path we found ourselves on a few days ago? At the site of the old water wheel was a similar thing for JMW Turner, with a reproduction of a sketch he'd done of the site when the water wheel and a hotel were still standing.
We found ourselves walking the last few yards down to the kiosk alongside a man who had just parked his car on the side of the access road (where several others were also parked) and who was walking down to meet a friend who was setting up a couple of kayaks on the bank above the beach, so we chatted with him for a minute. He pointed out where the coastal trail going west left the beach access road, and we were like "we KNOW": it visibly began with, yes, a very long and very steep stairway climbing up the cliffside. Then Geoff and I went on to enjoy the view from the top of the retaining wall above the beach; the bay is a narrow V between seaside cliffs, and although the beach was largely rocky (perhaps there's more sandy beach revealed at lower tide), there were some swimmers, and some families with kids on the sandy part, and a number of other boaters and stand-up paddleboarders in the water. There was also a bin of children's beach toys available to be borrowed, played with, and returned: an absolutely lovely amenity that we've seen on beaches both here and in Jersey.
We debated a bit about which direction to go and finally decided on west, despite the steep climb. For one thing, the western trail had another kiosk and public toilets marked on it, about halfway to the point we'd reached coming the other way, and if we got that far we'd also be near a bus route where we might be able to catch a ride home, whereas if we went east there were fewer amenities and it would definitely be shank's mare all the way. (None of this turned out to be relevant, however.) Then we went back up the bank toward the trail, past where the kayak guy and his friend were still setting up. We talked briefly about how very hot it was, and he agreed that it was so hot that he might accidentally fall out of his kayak a couple of times, sploosh, oops! We told him we were going to attempt that grueling stairway westward; "tell our families we died proudly," I begged.
In the end, though, we only walked for a little over an hour. It was very VERY up and down, made more so by our twice getting on dead-end spur trails that looked they would go along the cliffs but that ended up going steeply down to dead-end at a viewpoint or an old military emplacement, and then we had to struggle uphill again before we could continue on. And the heat made the climbing far more exhausting than it had been on other days. Plus Geoff has had real problems with heat in the past and I really didn't want him overheating, so we were resting frequently, and drinking a lot of water; we had two full water bottles and in just the time we were out we finished one. After we struggled to the top of yet another grueling climb, I finally said that I was willing to keep walking as long as the trail was more or less level, but I wasn't willing to do another steep ascent, or for that matter another steep descent, given that we'd have to get back up it on our return. The trail did politely remain only moderately tilted for a while, so we kept on, and we were rewarded by encountering a family of pheasants in the path! A beautifully colored male who hurried away into the underbrush ahead of the rest of the family, a drab female who herded four or five chicks with her into the shelter of the underbrush, and then two more chicks who had frozen in place instead of following her, and then as we came closer broke from their hiding places to scramble frantically after the rest. That was fun!
A little after that, though, the trail began tilting precipitously downward, and we called it and turned around. Slogged slowly back to the beach -- oh god the stairs, so many many stairs -- and shared a pizza and a pint of beer from the kiosk; the only beer they had was one that Geoff likes a lot but I don't, really, and yet I was absolutely loving my deep long cold swigs of it after spending an hour on those trails, in that heat. Happily, they had umbrellas shading the picnic tables in front, so we could sit in the shade, and there was a glorious breeze. (Oddly, there hadn't been one on the cliffs, even when we were in the open -- and the blazing sun -- rather than among trees and high green banks.)
The elderly man who brought us our pizza asked where we were from, and when we said "Canada" he said laughingly that he'd learned not to ask tourists, "Are you Americans?" because the Canadians would get so insulted. We laughingly agreed, and had a bit of the standard "Isn't he awful" conversation. "I bet you get some Americans claiming to be Canadian," I added, straight-faced.
Once we were finished, Geoff went back to the kiosk to throw out the trash and get himself an ice cream cone, while I went down onto the beach proper, picked my way across most of the stony part to a big rock sunk into the sand but high and wide enough to be a comfortable seat, and took my boots and socks off to go wading! (I'd been in shorts all day. Did I mention it was 30 degrees?)
The water was colder than I expected -- although, I mean, it's the north Atlantic, I suppose I should have expected that! But it was incredibly refreshing on my hot feet, and the waves weren't high or powerful but when they rushed out again they sank my feet deep into the sand, and then on their return sometimes wrapped seaweed around my ankles. Near me were children playing with buckets of sand and water, and building a sandcastle with parents; one very small girl whose teeth were chattering even in the sun, from the water temperature; a boy lying prone on a floatie in the water and wielding a stick with a net on the end, paddling to reach and scoop up the colored plastic balls his mom(?) tossed from behind him to bob on the water in front of him; a man and woman who waded into the chilly water to swim quite far out, which is less impressive when I add that they were both in wetsuits; and some adults just lying, soaking up the sun. I'd been making noise earlier about going swimming tomorrow; beaches and hot sun and sand and swimming are not at all Geoff's thing, but when we were in Hawaii years ago I insisted on getting a chance to, as I put it, frolic in the god damn surf. There wasn't any surf here (we did see quite a number of surfers on the north coast on Thursday, the day I skipped blogging about), but the principle still holds! But I think the wading I did today may have satisfied my need. To be honest, right now I don't ever want to trudge up a hill again, even one like the one from the beach that would have seemed like nothing a few days ago. It's hot, I'm tired, it's almost the end of our vacation, we are not as young as we used to be. (How did that happen. Who let that happen.)
But I dried my feet and brushed off as much sand as I could and put my socks and boots back on and we did indeed trudge back up the hill to the hotel, where we had to collapse a bit before either of us even had the energy to shower. (Also Geoff was still sweating even after coming in, and there's no point showering when he's sweating at the same time! It takes him a long time to cool down sometimes.) Anyway, we crashed out and eventually showered and he napped again and we both blogged the day. He's posted some excellent pictures! https://geoff-hart.com/fiction/Channel-Islands-2026/may24.html (See the line going diagonally up to the left from the tower? That's the trail we took. At a slant like this: \ )
And now back to the pub down the road for dinner. I haven't yet had fish and chips on this trip, and I plan on correcting that tonight. Also another pint of that tasty English cider, and probably about a gallon of cold water, we hardly did anything, it feels like, and yet it has been a DAY.
Phew.
We went back to our room after breakfast and zonked out for a while (Geoff has a practically unlimited capacity for napping), and then decided to walk due south from here about fifteen minutes to Petit Bôt Bay, which we'd been told was very pretty and also had a snack kiosk, and is also connected to the coastal trail network. It's basically midway between the easternmost point we ended at on our giant hike last Sunday (https://the-shoshanna.dreamwidth.org/907700.html) and the westernmost point we started at last Wednesday (https://the-shoshanna.dreamwidth.org/908256.html), so we figured we'd get there and then decide if we wanted to turn right (west) or left (east).It was a nice fifteen-minute walk down the hill to the bay, except for the awareness that we would have to climb back up the slope. Most of it was on one of the old roads on which vehicles are no longer allowed, so they're wider than footpaths but still quiet, and we wound through the usual green banks. Sometimes you can tell that the mossy ferny small-tree-y banks you're walking between are old, overgrown stone walls that have almost disappeared under the long accumulation of greenery and soil, and often you can't. We also passed an old stone watering trough, which water was still running through and past, in a small trickling stream that paralleled us all the way to the top of the bay, where we saw yet another round tower that was built to defend against the French in the late 1780s, and the ruins of what had been a water wheel about two hundred years ago. Also, remember the Renoir Path we found ourselves on a few days ago? At the site of the old water wheel was a similar thing for JMW Turner, with a reproduction of a sketch he'd done of the site when the water wheel and a hotel were still standing.
We found ourselves walking the last few yards down to the kiosk alongside a man who had just parked his car on the side of the access road (where several others were also parked) and who was walking down to meet a friend who was setting up a couple of kayaks on the bank above the beach, so we chatted with him for a minute. He pointed out where the coastal trail going west left the beach access road, and we were like "we KNOW": it visibly began with, yes, a very long and very steep stairway climbing up the cliffside. Then Geoff and I went on to enjoy the view from the top of the retaining wall above the beach; the bay is a narrow V between seaside cliffs, and although the beach was largely rocky (perhaps there's more sandy beach revealed at lower tide), there were some swimmers, and some families with kids on the sandy part, and a number of other boaters and stand-up paddleboarders in the water. There was also a bin of children's beach toys available to be borrowed, played with, and returned: an absolutely lovely amenity that we've seen on beaches both here and in Jersey.
We debated a bit about which direction to go and finally decided on west, despite the steep climb. For one thing, the western trail had another kiosk and public toilets marked on it, about halfway to the point we'd reached coming the other way, and if we got that far we'd also be near a bus route where we might be able to catch a ride home, whereas if we went east there were fewer amenities and it would definitely be shank's mare all the way. (None of this turned out to be relevant, however.) Then we went back up the bank toward the trail, past where the kayak guy and his friend were still setting up. We talked briefly about how very hot it was, and he agreed that it was so hot that he might accidentally fall out of his kayak a couple of times, sploosh, oops! We told him we were going to attempt that grueling stairway westward; "tell our families we died proudly," I begged.
In the end, though, we only walked for a little over an hour. It was very VERY up and down, made more so by our twice getting on dead-end spur trails that looked they would go along the cliffs but that ended up going steeply down to dead-end at a viewpoint or an old military emplacement, and then we had to struggle uphill again before we could continue on. And the heat made the climbing far more exhausting than it had been on other days. Plus Geoff has had real problems with heat in the past and I really didn't want him overheating, so we were resting frequently, and drinking a lot of water; we had two full water bottles and in just the time we were out we finished one. After we struggled to the top of yet another grueling climb, I finally said that I was willing to keep walking as long as the trail was more or less level, but I wasn't willing to do another steep ascent, or for that matter another steep descent, given that we'd have to get back up it on our return. The trail did politely remain only moderately tilted for a while, so we kept on, and we were rewarded by encountering a family of pheasants in the path! A beautifully colored male who hurried away into the underbrush ahead of the rest of the family, a drab female who herded four or five chicks with her into the shelter of the underbrush, and then two more chicks who had frozen in place instead of following her, and then as we came closer broke from their hiding places to scramble frantically after the rest. That was fun!
A little after that, though, the trail began tilting precipitously downward, and we called it and turned around. Slogged slowly back to the beach -- oh god the stairs, so many many stairs -- and shared a pizza and a pint of beer from the kiosk; the only beer they had was one that Geoff likes a lot but I don't, really, and yet I was absolutely loving my deep long cold swigs of it after spending an hour on those trails, in that heat. Happily, they had umbrellas shading the picnic tables in front, so we could sit in the shade, and there was a glorious breeze. (Oddly, there hadn't been one on the cliffs, even when we were in the open -- and the blazing sun -- rather than among trees and high green banks.)
The elderly man who brought us our pizza asked where we were from, and when we said "Canada" he said laughingly that he'd learned not to ask tourists, "Are you Americans?" because the Canadians would get so insulted. We laughingly agreed, and had a bit of the standard "Isn't he awful" conversation. "I bet you get some Americans claiming to be Canadian," I added, straight-faced.
Once we were finished, Geoff went back to the kiosk to throw out the trash and get himself an ice cream cone, while I went down onto the beach proper, picked my way across most of the stony part to a big rock sunk into the sand but high and wide enough to be a comfortable seat, and took my boots and socks off to go wading! (I'd been in shorts all day. Did I mention it was 30 degrees?)
The water was colder than I expected -- although, I mean, it's the north Atlantic, I suppose I should have expected that! But it was incredibly refreshing on my hot feet, and the waves weren't high or powerful but when they rushed out again they sank my feet deep into the sand, and then on their return sometimes wrapped seaweed around my ankles. Near me were children playing with buckets of sand and water, and building a sandcastle with parents; one very small girl whose teeth were chattering even in the sun, from the water temperature; a boy lying prone on a floatie in the water and wielding a stick with a net on the end, paddling to reach and scoop up the colored plastic balls his mom(?) tossed from behind him to bob on the water in front of him; a man and woman who waded into the chilly water to swim quite far out, which is less impressive when I add that they were both in wetsuits; and some adults just lying, soaking up the sun. I'd been making noise earlier about going swimming tomorrow; beaches and hot sun and sand and swimming are not at all Geoff's thing, but when we were in Hawaii years ago I insisted on getting a chance to, as I put it, frolic in the god damn surf. There wasn't any surf here (we did see quite a number of surfers on the north coast on Thursday, the day I skipped blogging about), but the principle still holds! But I think the wading I did today may have satisfied my need. To be honest, right now I don't ever want to trudge up a hill again, even one like the one from the beach that would have seemed like nothing a few days ago. It's hot, I'm tired, it's almost the end of our vacation, we are not as young as we used to be. (How did that happen. Who let that happen.)
But I dried my feet and brushed off as much sand as I could and put my socks and boots back on and we did indeed trudge back up the hill to the hotel, where we had to collapse a bit before either of us even had the energy to shower. (Also Geoff was still sweating even after coming in, and there's no point showering when he's sweating at the same time! It takes him a long time to cool down sometimes.) Anyway, we crashed out and eventually showered and he napped again and we both blogged the day. He's posted some excellent pictures! https://geoff-hart.com/fiction/Channel-Islands-2026/may24.html (See the line going diagonally up to the left from the tower? That's the trail we took. At a slant like this: \ )
And now back to the pub down the road for dinner. I haven't yet had fish and chips on this trip, and I plan on correcting that tonight. Also another pint of that tasty English cider, and probably about a gallon of cold water, we hardly did anything, it feels like, and yet it has been a DAY.
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