In early June, I spent a few days with my family on Guernsey, an island closer to France than England but loyal to the British Crown for centuries. We found it compact and easy to navigate, with a culture that felt familiar yet unique. Here’s what we thought of Guernsey and the nearby island of Sark.

Is Guernsey British or French? This was my first question as I stepped off the tiny yellow plane. The answer is both and neither. Guernsey has hosted human life for thousands of years, with many Neolithic remains discovered on the island. It was part of Normandy in 1066 when William the Conqueror invaded England. When King John lost Normandy in the thirteenth century, he promised Guernsey autonomy if it stayed British. The island remained British, sort of.

Guernsey is a crown dependency, meaning it’s not part of the United Kingdom but is still subject to the Queen. It has its own currency and parliament, but Union Jacks lined the streets for the Diamond Jubilee. The influence isn’t just British; the street and family names are undeniably French. Guernsey is only 20 miles from France compared to 78 miles from Britain. Until recently, the first language was Guernsey French, a unique version of French.

So, is Guernsey British or French? It’s a mix of both, embracing the influence and culture of both countries while maintaining a fiercely independent identity. There are things in Guernsey you won’t see in either England or France.

Guernsey felt relaxed, emphasized by the calm airport environment. The scenery was beautiful, especially with the sun shining and clear blue water. The island is alive with wildlife, and I found myself picking wildflowers to put in my hair. Sark felt surreal with no cars, like a quaint English village set. It’s lovely for a getaway, but I wouldn’t want to stay more than a day as it might get boring for a teenager.

Both Sark and Guernsey are British with French heritage. They feel French in setting but the people seem more English. I wouldn’t recommend visiting in winter as Guernsey was dull and grey when it rained, compared to its almost magical setting when sunny. Guernsey offers a lot, from water sports to exploring museums.

I enjoyed cycling around Sark on a beautiful day, admiring the wildlife and tranquil feel. The best way to see Sark is by sailing around the island, a yachtsman’s paradise with plenty of coves to explore.

French road signs, house names, and a banner saying “Dieu Sauve la Raine” were odd because I heard no French accent and saw no French flag. Guernsey has been loyal to the English crown since William of Normandy became king in 1066. Sark was different and quirky, with attractive hotels but empty once we cycled towards Little Sark. The glades and wooded areas hide well-kept houses, but I wonder why anyone would want to live there with tourists passing by.

We had a superb lunch at La Sablonnerie, including lobster, venison, and Sark lamb, in a sunny, rose-filled garden. The house wine was fabulous and French, delivered by tractor. I’d love to spend more time here, camping at one of the two campsites, having long lazy lunches, and sleeping under the stars. We found a bay where yacht crews were playing cricket on the beach, perfect for a driftwood beach BBQ.

I enjoyed the coastal walk from Fermain Bay to Jerbourg Point. The boat trip from Sark was interesting, giving a sense of how remote it is despite being close to the UK and France. The German Occupation Museum is a must-visit, highlighting the importance of winning World War 2 and the impact of Hitler’s shadow on the people of Guernsey.

Before visiting, I imagined Guernsey as pretty and picturesque, a bit stuck in the past, ideal for a nostalgic family holiday. On the first day, we drove around pretty villages with beautifully kept stone farmhouses, decorated with Union Jack bunting and the red and yellow cross of the Guernsey flag for the 9 May Liberation Day and the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.

The coastline reminded me of Cornwall, with a coastal path winding around the rocky southern coast and broader sandy beaches on the northern coast, ideal for surfing and swimming. On sunny days, I’d have loved to try kayaking among the crab-pot buoys and enjoyed stopping at different beach kiosks for a crab sandwich or ice cream.

Seeing more of the island, I realized there was much more beneath the picturesque surface. The German occupation during World War 2 left a deep impression, with concrete bunkers and stories of near starvation. The French influence is evident in place names, though I heard little French spoken except by tourists, or was it Guernésiais I heard while waiting for the ferry on Sark?