This small Channel Island (pop. 65) looks like a place adrift: explore Herm without a car

At 6:30 a.m., I walk to the deserted beach of Belvoir Bay. The sand is soft, the sky is pink, Normandy borders the horizon. The only sounds are the murmur of the waves and the whistling of the oystercatchers. I dive into the sea. Immediately, the cove fills with terrible curses: I force myself to stay in the water, stammering and swearing but becoming less cold with each stroke of the swim. A few hours later, sipping coffee while overlooking another deserted beach, my skin is still burning and my mood is itchy and smug.

A dip in the bay is a great way to start the day on Herm. The tiny, comma-shaped Channel Island - stretching just under 1.5 miles from top to bottom and less than half a mile in diameter - looks like a place cut adrift. This is categorically a good thing. The island has a permanent population of 65 and a history that dates back to the Neolithic era. Puffins breed on its southern cliffs; rabbits nibble in its flowery meadows; migrating warblers congregate in its pine forests. You won't find cars, or even bicycles, and the primary school has four students. The island's name sounds like hesitation, but its pretty hills, woods and beaches beg to be savored here and now.

View of Herm Harbor and Bay on a sunny day in the Anglo-norman islands.

Well, most of the time. Shortly after arriving on the 15-minute boat trip from Guernsey, a spring shower brings strong winds and horizontal rain. It gives me the chance to take inventory of the buildings in the harbor - a hotel, two pubs, a handful of stone cottages, an old jail big enough for one - and watch the waves lashed in dark fury. When the storm passes and the sun returns, the island looks washed out, the white sand flowing into a turquoise sea. I'm here for a short visit, in part to learn more about Herm's drive to become less carbon dependent.

"I always say landscape is a mix between the Caribbean, the North York Moors and the Pembrokeshire coast," says Craig Senior, the island's CEO. (Yes, an island with a CEO: Herm is owned by the States of Guernsey, which leases it to use as a tourist destination.The current tenants are former Guernsey residents John and Julia Singer, who had their first date on Herm in the mid-90s and took up the lease in 2008.) Craig is a gregarious Rotherham United fan , here since 2019 with his wife and children. He is followed by his dog, Harvey, who has the island run and is perhaps the happiest sproodle in the world. "Herm is part of the British Isles, the Channel Islands, but more than anything, it's just Herm," he says.

There's plenty to do simultaneously: eat, drink, swim, walk , kayaking, bird watching, jogging, mooching, sticking your nose in the millennial chapel, star gazing, sleeping - and little entertainment. If that sounds contradictory, welcome to Herm. As well as the White House Hotel, which offers sea views and serves...

This small Channel Island (pop. 65) looks like a place adrift: explore Herm without a car

At 6:30 a.m., I walk to the deserted beach of Belvoir Bay. The sand is soft, the sky is pink, Normandy borders the horizon. The only sounds are the murmur of the waves and the whistling of the oystercatchers. I dive into the sea. Immediately, the cove fills with terrible curses: I force myself to stay in the water, stammering and swearing but becoming less cold with each stroke of the swim. A few hours later, sipping coffee while overlooking another deserted beach, my skin is still burning and my mood is itchy and smug.

A dip in the bay is a great way to start the day on Herm. The tiny, comma-shaped Channel Island - stretching just under 1.5 miles from top to bottom and less than half a mile in diameter - looks like a place cut adrift. This is categorically a good thing. The island has a permanent population of 65 and a history that dates back to the Neolithic era. Puffins breed on its southern cliffs; rabbits nibble in its flowery meadows; migrating warblers congregate in its pine forests. You won't find cars, or even bicycles, and the primary school has four students. The island's name sounds like hesitation, but its pretty hills, woods and beaches beg to be savored here and now.

View of Herm Harbor and Bay on a sunny day in the Anglo-norman islands.

Well, most of the time. Shortly after arriving on the 15-minute boat trip from Guernsey, a spring shower brings strong winds and horizontal rain. It gives me the chance to take inventory of the buildings in the harbor - a hotel, two pubs, a handful of stone cottages, an old jail big enough for one - and watch the waves lashed in dark fury. When the storm passes and the sun returns, the island looks washed out, the white sand flowing into a turquoise sea. I'm here for a short visit, in part to learn more about Herm's drive to become less carbon dependent.

"I always say landscape is a mix between the Caribbean, the North York Moors and the Pembrokeshire coast," says Craig Senior, the island's CEO. (Yes, an island with a CEO: Herm is owned by the States of Guernsey, which leases it to use as a tourist destination.The current tenants are former Guernsey residents John and Julia Singer, who had their first date on Herm in the mid-90s and took up the lease in 2008.) Craig is a gregarious Rotherham United fan , here since 2019 with his wife and children. He is followed by his dog, Harvey, who has the island run and is perhaps the happiest sproodle in the world. "Herm is part of the British Isles, the Channel Islands, but more than anything, it's just Herm," he says.

There's plenty to do simultaneously: eat, drink, swim, walk , kayaking, bird watching, jogging, mooching, sticking your nose in the millennial chapel, star gazing, sleeping - and little entertainment. If that sounds contradictory, welcome to Herm. As well as the White House Hotel, which offers sea views and serves...

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