The view to Grandes Rocques Battery, taken from below Le Guet. (Picture by John O’Neill, 0554993)
YOU could call it the beach with the wrong name.
We all know it as Grandes Rocques when, in fact, its official title is Saline Bay.
Regardless, for a succession of generations the stretch of sand between Cobo and Port Soif remains hugely popular with both locals and tourists.
The beach itself has altered little. There have been uglier periods when a mass of small stone has stretched for most of the way across to make the less hardy of us feel even less attracted to swimming in a sea chillier than most bays in the west, due to it falling away more sharply.
All the significant changes have occurred at the top where, sadly and in the name of environmental protection, most of the dunes have been replaced by blue-granite armouring.
But 40 years ago, in the halcyon days when Herbie Saunders operated a deckchair and woopie-float business, the bay oozed charm and man-made sunspots beneath the dunes.
As our 1969 picture shows, families or small groups would shut themselves away from the rest of the beach, cocooned by the pink granite stone, which is a feature of the area.
No doubt, much of that stone emanated from the only pink-granite slipway the island possessed, remnants of which can still be seen from time to time when the natural shifting of the sand fully exposes it.
The beach has always been popular with families. (0603156)
Like so many things, the German occupying forces brought about the slip’s downfall.
Before the war, there was a natural route for local fishermen over the dunes and onto the beach via the long slipway (at least 50 metres), but the Jerries’ aversion to locals on the beach led to them closing it off.
Today the dunes are at their highest where once the likes of Nicholas Ogier would drag their dinghies down into the water.
Just when the slip was put in place is unclear, but States archivist Darryl Ogier has his own theory, having failed to unearth the usual States legislation for the building of one.
His educated guess is that it was built some time after 1900 when Lord de Saumarez took ownership of the old Grandes Rocques Hotel, added a storey and gave it a more gothic look.
As the obviously wealthy de Saumarez felt the need for his own golf course and a purpose-built school for his asthmatic son, it would have made sense to build his own landing stage with stone from the many quarries he owned.
Through the Guernsey Militia years the bay also doubled as a shooting range.
Old maps clearly illustrate the shorter ranges – 100 to 300 yards – on the headland dividing the hotel and the elevated battery with its coquelin [winkle] sitting proudly atop.
For longer target practice, the militia men fired from vantage points all the way back to Cobo, more than 1,000 yards away.
The derivative name of Grande Rocque refers to the mass of magnificent ruggedly pink granite on which sits the battery, a strongpoint established in the early 19th century as part of a comprehensive scheme for insular defence, mounted in response to the threat of attack from the French.
More than 100 years later, the Germans gave the headland an uglier, cemented look with a swarm of bunkers.
Of further archaeological importance were the remains of a medieval fishing settlement, which were uncovered on the headland in an excavation in 1985, seven years after the spectacular grounding of the oilrig Orion.
Given the bay’s natural features that stretch out towards the Gross Rocque, it is no wonder the kayaks have replaced the leaky and cumbersome floats of Herbie Saunders.
Ant Ford-Parker, co-owner of kayaking group Outdoor Guernsey, rates the bay on two fronts.
‘It’s great for kayak fishing. In fact, most kayak fishing is done in that bay,’ he said.
Bass, pollack and wrasse are most commonly caught, while for those experienced kayakers who prefer more adventure, the rocks and gullies offer satisfaction.
‘For people with a bit of skill, it’s very exciting.’
Article posted on 10th July, 2008 - 10.00am
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