The Hills of St Martin

Edmund Blampied was born and raised at La Ville Brée, St Martin in 1886. He was to become Jersey’s most famous artist. Although he made his living in London as a commercial artist his signature works are those sketches depicting Jersey rural life. The property itself, a beautiful old farmhouse, is hidden in a corner of Jersey rarely trodden. I made sure to make a little detour down that way this morning as I plodded the roads of St Martin.

I’d decided that a few hills were in order. It’s been a while since I parked at St Catherine’s and set off from there. Back along the road and up the snaky road signposted to Rozel is the first little test. Forget about any semblance of speed as the road continues to rise slowly until Haie Fleurie. At the T-junction I turned left towards Trinity. Further along there are fields on either side packed with yellow flowers which this townie can’t identify. Up near the Zoo I’m passed by the always-chipper Norma Mahoney, one of the Island’s best female runners over many years. A nice economic style she has too. I’m just thinking what a pleasant day it is with the sun climbing high when I’m all but wiped out as two white vans pass at speed forcing me into the ditch. Nothing new there then. Up the little lane towards White Rock and down into Rozel Harbour where the real work begins.

First there’s the little matter of the climb out of the harbour area. Head down and get on with it. This is one of those hills that I know is deceiving with its bends fooling you into thinking you’re near the top. Then suddenly it’s left into the rocky valley footpath which takes you over to Saie if you don’t sprain an ankle in the process. Then the climb up out of Saie – bring it on! It’s a brute but I’m in the mood for it and can happily record I ran up it non-stop today for, I think, the first time ever. From there it’s a cruise – left down to the picturesque Fliquet and a final short, sharp climb to the wooded path that connects with the stony one that drops you back down to St Catherine’s. Only eight miles but some good stuff in there, and it’s getting too hot for much more.