Saint Peter Port

Descending into the dimly-lit gloom of La Vallette Underground Military Museum feels a bit like sneaking into history's attic-musty, fascinating, and gloriously unsanitized. Carved into Guernsey's rugged cliff face by weary hands (and more than a little wartime desperation), these tunnels offered refuge during WWII, serving as a strategic lifeline and bomb-proof sanctuary while waves of trouble arrived from above courtesy of the Luftwaffe's daily deliveries. Visit mid-morning to avoid bumping elbows with overly enthusiastic tourists and their selfie sticks, and budget at least an hour and about £8 to fully absorb the maze-like network of artifacts and wartime memorabilia. Plan ahead enough to remember a sensible pair of shoes and perhaps a sweater-subterranean Guernsey can be unapologetically chilly, even if the history is hot enough to scorch your eyebrows. Ultimately, this somber yet captivating slice of wartime ingenuity is worth wandering, if only to emerge blinking into sunlight with the sharp awareness that your worst Monday morning meeting pales hilariously compared to being shelled by enemy aircraft underground.

Stargazing on Sark isn't your average celestial sightseeing; it's cosmic voyeurism with attitude. On this pint-sized Channel Island-mercifully free of streetlights since they decided electricity poles were passe-you'll realize you've spent your whole life star-watching through the muted glare of urban smog, like trying to spot sharks through murky aquarium glass. Sark's commitment to darkness, earning it official Dark Sky status, ensures skies so crisp you'd swear the Milky Way was Photoshopped by a deity hopped up on artisanal espresso. Aim to arrive just before dusk, allowing your eyes time to adapt and your sense of awe ample room to inflate. Book accommodations ahead-rooms here fill swiftly, and impromptu midnight boat rides back to civilization are a tad ambitious. Pack warmly, bring binoculars (or better yet, a telescope), and stockpile enough snacks and spirits to keep your inner astronomer (and critic) satisfied. Budget-wise, expect island-inflated prices-think gourmet sandwiches with mainland mortgage rates-so bring plenty of cash, since the absence of ATMs is one of Sark's many charming eccentricities. Look, even if you're the sort who can't distinguish Orion's Belt from a Prada knock-off, Sark's stargazing offers you bragging rights for seeing the universe as it was meant to be experienced-raw, magnificent, and slightly terrifying-as nature intended.

Saints Bay, nestled inconspicuously along St Martin's rugged coastline, is perhaps Guernsey's best-kept secret-where the English Channel briefly pretends it's somewhere tropical, and the locals wisely pretend not to notice. Forget postcard cliches and overcrowded beaches-here, turquoise waters shimmer invitingly, ideal for plunging beneath the surface armed only with snorkel gear and questionable bravery. Beneath these clear waters, you'll find yourself nose-to-nose with curious wrasse, stubborn crabs, and plenty of quirky marine life indifferent to your presence. Historically, these tranquil coves were the haunt of smugglers and pirates; today, the only contraband you'll need is a flask of tea (or perhaps a nip of something stronger), a towel, sunscreen, and sandals robust enough to negotiate Saints Bay's rocky charms. Aim for early morning to dodge the occasional tourist invasion; planning a day or so ahead is wise-although spontaneity has its rewards here. With no entry fee, your only budget is the courage to brave the chillier-than-Caribbean temperatures. But let's face it: nothing beats the smug satisfaction of casually dropping, "Oh, just went snorkeling in the Channel this morning," into conversation back home-even if the wetsuit tan lines linger awkwardly.