46, 47, 48.
I counted them.
Walking along the coastline of Jersey in the Channel Islands, two things kept my attention more than the 1-mile deep tide and wide berth of the flat sandy beach. Dogs and benches.
This is a country where its residents hold deep collective memory of its coast line. It was here the Nazis occupied during almost the entire length of the Second World War. Memorials to those who resisted, those who were murdered, those who fled, and those who died fleeing (usually by drowning) plus the soldiers who liberated them saturate not only the public spaces in statutes and plaques, but within the stories that locals still tell.
The residents eye the coastline out of habit, a behavior passed to them by their grandparents who haven’t forgotten. Historic castles, now tourist destinations, stand easily regarrisoned just in case the stepping stone to Normandy needs use.
This constant state of remembrance appears in the benches that dot the viewpoints, paths, and resting spots at every available location along the hiking trail circumnavigating the island.
In loving memory to…
We will never forget…
Her smile told us everything…
We miss you…
He sat here to think…
A Day in the Life
I spent the month of March on Jersey. My days started with three hours of writing my new novel, then I’d take the bus to a spot on the coast, and walk back to the island’s heartbeat, St Helier, named after the island’s hermit from 550 AD.
Everyday, a perfect 50 degree temperture invited me out to sunny skies usually parted with clouds. Puffins stayed elusive, but evidence of ground hogs on the trails kept my eyes searching. Bright yellow daffodils in large, medium, and small trimmed the path, danced hello.
Easily accessed stairs and ramps lowered me down to the hard-backed sand, perfect for miles and miles of walking. Tides exposed pools filled with vrai, the seaweed harvested by locals, and limpets whose homes remained after visits from seagulls.
A quick dip into the 50-degree water at the outstanding Havre des Pas swim club where senior men, tanned and trim in their bikinis and caps, stayed young, had me exiting the seawater quicker than my entry. But I was proud I did it.
With so much space to roam on the beach, owners and dogs did romp. Remarkably, if there was one person with one dog, there was one person with many. It seemed the local tale was if one dog was good, five must be better. Packs followed solo owners all up and down the beach, chasing tennis balls aplenty. Spaniels, mostly of the Cocker and Springer varieties, ran and ran. Is there nothing happier than a dog running on the beach?
I clocked at least 100 miles of hiking while on the island. Although I didn’t do the complete 22-mile circular in one go, I knocked it out in sections via a well-networked bus system that ran on time and was chauffered by the nicest drivers. When not on the shoreline, I made my way through fields of Jersey cows, Jersey Royals, and Jersey apples. All three produced the fattiest, creamiest, and sweetest of their kind.
A friend’s heritage pass opened up the historical stories of fleeing kings, enslaved Russians, and tunneled Nazis. Ancient Celts hid their coins, and arriving Queens recalled Liberation Day. Nowhere did history go untold anywhere on the island.
Which brings me to the benches, where a population remains committed to its memories and the futherance of their loved ones into the future.
49, 50, 51.
I checked the official websites for the official counts of things. I almost felt like this was a journey into understanding how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
On Jersey Island, there are over 800 benches plus an additional 160 memorial benches. The local prisoner population upkeeps a refurbishment program. A contractor keeps a 4-year rolling contract to maintain them. (source)
Said the director of technical services for the Infrasture Department, “We get frequent, probably weekly requests, to put memorial benches on public land. It is quite a difficult situation as we have to try to balance the wishes of a bereaved relative with having a sensible approach.” (source)
With a number in my head, I set about comparing it to the dog count. Would there be more labradors, cockapoos and terriers than benches?
Yes.
Despite the abundance of benches overlooking St Brelade's Bay, dogs reign at almost ten times the amount at 11,000. Granted, they aren’t all on the beach at one time. But if they were, they’d certainly fit in the coastal expanse that arrives twice a day.
Where to Stay, Eat, Cuppa, Play on Jersey Island
If you go to Jersey, stay here, eat here, coffee here, don’t miss here.
You’ll be greeted by Jade the Grenade, who will make sure your every need is honored, locals will engage your need for a slice, your coffee will come as a luscious pink beetroot topped with flower petals, and your inner hippie-cum-community leader vibe will thrive in a fairy garden filled with free clothes.
If you’re navigating the Schengen Shuffle and need a wonderful respite for your 90-day escapade, Jersey’s got a bench waiting for you. And a pup to play fetch with.
Nice intro to Jersey, Chris! Didn’t catch the description of “beetroot” coffee…Hope your novel is going well; seems like a well-chosen challenge for a great nonfiction writer.
Jersey and Guernsey are definitely on my list. Thanks for sharing about such a calm and beautiful place!