An Evening of Geocaching Glory in St Peter Port
(Or: How to Look Suspicious in a Beautiful Place.)
Business trips are usually a predictable cycle of meetings, coffee, meetings about the previous meetings. And then a sorry group dinner where everyone pretends they’re not working when they secretly are. But on my three‑day stint in St Peter Port, Guernsey, fate handed me something rare: a free evening. Three whole hours of unsupervised time. Dangerous.
I was staying at the Best Western Moores. It’s a big old stone mansion in the middle of town that was originally a private home for the De Saumarez family. The hotel started operating in 1896 (originally as the Broughtons Queens Hotel). It’s been the Moores since a certain Mr. Moore took over in 1902. It’s right in the centre of St Peter Port, which is ideal if you enjoy tight, cobbled streets, harbour views, and the constant temptation to go exploring. Which, naturally, I did.
The sun was still hanging around like it had nowhere better to be, so I grabbed my GPS and went out to see what I could see. I’d sort of hoped (or anticipated) I might have a bit of spare time, and as a result I’d actually bought the proper GPS with me.
Southward to La Valette: The Quest Begins
I headed down towards the La Vallette bathing pools. In 1865 some residents decided the sea needed a bit more structure. They decided on enclosing a part of it inside walls to make an enclosed outdoor swimming pool. It can be emptied and refilled with the tides, which is neat. I guess it saves on needing to clean it out too.
The walk down these is gorgeous: cliffs, sea air, and that smug feeling you get when you’re outdoors and your colleagues are snoozing or sat in a bar somewhere. The endpoint of that walk was an earthcache. It required a photo.
The Othon Odyssey
On the way back, I tackled a multi‑cache dedicated to Otto de Grandson — or Othon, if you want to sound like you’ve stepped straight out of a medieval epic. He was a knight, a diplomat, and apparently now the patron saint of making geocachers squint at plaques. There’s nothing quite like pacing back and forth in front of a historic monument muttering numbers under your breath while tourists edge away slowly. But after some determined clue‑hunting and only one moment where I wondered if I’d accidentally joined a secret society, I cracked it. The cache was conveniently placed back towards the town centre.
Harbour Hijinks
With the multi conquered, I looped around the central port area to scoop up a few more caches. The tide was out, which in Guernsey means the boats weren’t so much floating as sitting in mud contemplating their life choices. The harbour looks like a postcard at high tide. At low tide it looks like a shipyard after a particularly messy toddler has pulled the plug out.
The evening light was golden, the air was warm, and I was doing my best to look like a normal human being casually enjoying the scenery rather than someone rummaging behind benches for tiny plastic containers.
Back to the Hotel… and Into Judgement
Eventually, with my geocaching quota satisfied and time ticking rapidly round to beer o’clock, I returned to the hotel. A quick freshen‑up later, I joined my colleagues at the pub. They asked what I’d been up to. I told them.
There was a bit of a re-calibration pause, because none of them had heard of geocaching before. So now I’m the weirdo all of a sudden.
Look, it gives me an excuse for exploring the town for a while. The alternative was to just sit in the bar all night.
