Between the global pandemic and a wobble in my own health we haven’t really had much of a chance to get out on many micro-adventures lately – and the few that we have been on we decided to do for ourselves: a camping trip in torrential rain, a beach cooking evening where we forgot to bring any utensils, and a few very pleasant days of camping with our bikes on the island of Alderney. Recently though there has been a glimmer of hope that, as travel restrictions are eased, our adventures might soon be able to transition from micro to macro and so we decided it was about time to get the bivi bags back out, wipe the dust from the lens of the GoPro, and untangle the string of the kite.

Stories such as our microadventures have probably been repeated time and again around the world over the last 12 months – finding a new appreciation for those places that are right on our doorstep, or noticing the beauty of what grows between the cracks – those places and things that we have previously neglected to notice at all. Last October, between covid lockdowns, we spent a few days self-catering with some friends on the nearby island of Sark. While we were there we walked to a place that I had never been to, somewhere that instantly took my breath away. Quite possibly the most spectacular view in all of the Channel Islands; an accolade with some serious competition. A tall rocky outcrop with steep sides and a flat summit with cinematic views over granite stacks, gullies, caves, islands, and channels. It’s the kind of place that is as equally stunning when drenched in rain as it is when bathed in sunshine. We both knew right away, without saying a word, that we would be back here with our sleeping bags as soon as we could.

We didn’t expect it to take 9 months for us to finally get our act together though, but this weekend I was in Sark to play at a music festival and we couldn’t resist the opportunity to return to that rock for an afternoon of flying the kite and a night of sleeping beneath the constantly changing sky.

The day turned from damp to overcast to sunny several times before nightfall arrived. We spent the afternoon trying hard using the kite to get a few photos that I had in my mind, but as usual the wind wasn’t obeying my command, so after a couple of hours of hopping precariously from rock to ledge and back again we gave in with a few fewer pictures than I had hoped for. That didn’t really matter though, it felt good to be back out on an adventure again. For a brief time in the middle of the night the clouds cleared completely from horizon to horizon, showing off the star-filled skies for which Sark has become famed – unfortunately though, as neither of us could bring ourselves to leave our cosy sleeping bags to get the camera, this is another image that will remain only in our minds.



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