I’ve been visiting Jersey since I was a child – it remains astonishingly gorgeous

“We call that Stinky Bay.” I paused on my e-bike as guide Andy Horsfall pointed down to an empty cove. “Lots of seaweed piles up there,” he explained, then grinned. “And it’s where bodies always used to wash up on Bergerac.”

Jersey. The largest of the Channel Islands and, to anyone above a certain age, synonymous with cosy crime. For much of its run, from 1981 to 1991, Bergerac was appointment TV. Remember? The good old days. When not only could you still use a £1 note to buy two – yes, two! – pints of beer, but when, with only four channels to choose from, up to 15 million people a week sat down after Songs of Praise to watch accordion-twanged law-breaking at its most picturesque.

The abundance of thieves and villains certainly didn’t deter visitors. Bergerac proved to be one big – albeit murdery – advert for the sunnily glamorous holiday isle. “It rekindled the memories of old honeymooners and introduced Jersey to new people,” explained David Seymour of Seymour Hotels, when I quizzed him about the show’s impact. His family has been running hotels here since 1920. “As the series carried on, the rights went global – at one point there were two charter flights a week from Scandinavia. It would be fantastic if the new series did the same.”

Yes, a new series. A Bergerac reboot is set to air from February 2025. We’re told it will be darker and grittier than the John Nettles original. But what of Jersey itself? How has the island changed – or not – in the intervening years?

My grandparents used to holiday on Jersey in its Seventies and Eighties heyday. They would sit on the beach, visit the Shell Garden (the largest in the world), go to evening shows; my grandad was partial to a whisky at the legendary Tartan Bar at Corbière’s Seagrove Hotel. I doubt they’d have signed up, as I had done, to go e-biking (even if e-bikes had existed). But the island has had to find alternative ways to lure people these days.

The Seagrove and Shell Garden are long gone; finance has replaced tourism as the economic top dog; low-cost airlines scoot holidaymakers to Greece and Spain instead. And Bergerac hasn’t thrust the island into our living rooms for some time.

“Marketing the island is very different now,” David confirmed. “There’s far more choice out there than before. You have to give people a proper reason to visit.”

A cycle tour into the island’s “wild west” with Jersey-born Andy seemed one decent reason. Jersey has about 725km (450 miles) of quiet country lanes, perfect for cycling, and he knows them all. We began our pedal along St Helier’s seafront, before turning away from the rush-hour traffic and up Waterworks Valley, a leafy “main road” on which we passed zero cars. My top-of-the-range e-bike made mincemeat out of the short-but-sharp hills and left me with breath that the views could then take away.

We wound around the lanes, via lush hedgerows, grazing Jersey cows and cottages of rose-hued granite – scenes surely little-altered for decades. But overlooking the wide sweep of St Ouen’s Bay, Andy told me how things on the island have changed. This used to be the main strip, lined with nightclubs – now only one remains. Otherwise it’s a sleepy, scenic sweep, backed by fields of Jersey royals, the National Trust Wetland Centre and a few beach cafés catering to sightseers and surfers.

It’s arguably a much more attractive prospect than the pub crawl of the past, but certainly less buzzy. With mass tourism a distant memory, the island has had to find a new identity, with more focus on its natural and historic treasures – and 2025 will be a significant year for the latter, with the island celebrating the 80th anniversary of its liberation from German occupation.

With Andy, I cycled past Nazi relics and up to the headland at Plémont Bay, one of Jersey’s most jaw-dropping spots and its conservation ground-zero.

A Pontins holiday camp once squatted here; following its demolition, a mass of inappropriate development threatened the area, so thousands of islanders literally joined together to protest, forming a human chain along the western shore. Soon after, in 2011, Jersey National Park was formed. It encompasses 12 per cent of the island, including the majority of its coast, safeguarding it for future generations. Some changes are for the better.

“Progression doesn’t have to mean building,” Andy said, as we looked across the reviving maritime grassland and heath to the relentless waves beyond. “Less is more.”

Patricia Gray remembers when more was more. She first travelled to Jersey in 1973 and has returned at least once a year, sometimes five, ever since. When I chatted to her by phone, keen to get a wider perspective, she revealed she even has a “Jersey name” – in her home town of Hull, she’s Pat, but to the many friends she’s made in Jersey over the years, she’s Trish – “I got called that once and it just stuck.”

Looking back, “the island was something different”, she told me. “Like the Continent but home. All the shops were open until nine at night. There were French-sounding names, but you didn’t have to change your currency.”

She remembers going in the 1970s, taking the ferry on a Friday, returning Monday, with half-board accommodation, a litre of wine and 200 cigarettes included, for £39 – around £225 in today’s money. On one visit she even snuck into an episode of Bergerac: “You can see me and my mother in a taxi behind Charlie Hungerford’s white Rolls-Royce.”

She’s seen a lot change over the decades. You can still use £1 notes – the only place in the British Isles to still use them – but a lot of attractions and hotels have gone; in its 1980s peak, Jersey had around 30,000 beds for visitors, today it’s fewer than 10,000. However, she continues to visit because the basic appeal remains. “It’s the safety, the more relaxed way of life and the friendliness of the hotels,” she said. She always stays at St Helier’s Pomme d’Or, always in the same room. “The beauty of the island hasn’t altered,” she added.

I couldn’t argue with that. As I explored by bike, bus and foot, I was constantly astonished by how gorgeous it is. Even the murdery bits. The fishing harbour of Rozel Bay, in the island’s north-east, was frequently used in the original Bergerac. I stayed here, at the charming Château la Chaire – a classic retreat, where guests are welcomed with a glass of port – and had the beach to myself for a sunrise dip.

After that, I walked along a spectacular stretch of coast path to Bouley Bay, which will feature in the new Bergerac. Here, the Water’s Edge Hotel – where the likes of Michael Barrymore once entertained – was sad and shuttered (it’s set for redevelopment). But Mad Mary’s Beach Cafe was still going strong, while divers were pulling on neoprene, readying to explore underwater.

And this is the new Jersey. Still safe. Still quirky. But finding its feet in a new tourism landscape.

“The future is challenging,” admitted Matthew Seymour, David’s son, who in 2024 became the fifth generation of his family to head the hotel business. “We need to pitch the outside – you can’t get bored looking at the coast. Surfing, swimming, trail running, cycling – it’s easy to do it all in the same day. Jersey is an active island. It’s not just for grandparents.”

How to do it

Condor Ferries (0345 609 1024; condorferries.co.uk) offers Poole/Portsmouth to Jersey foot-passenger returns from £90pp with a standard seat, £186pp including sole occupancy of a cabin, £286 for two, sharing a cabin.

Château la Chaire in Rozel (01534 863354; chateau-la-chaire.co.uk) has doubles from £145 per night, B&B. Seymour Hotels (seymourhotels.com) runs three hotels on the island, including the Pomme d’Or (01534 751000; seymourhotels.com/pomme-dor-hotel), which has doubles from round £95 per night, room-only.

An e-bike tour with Andy Horsfall, via Lakeys Bike Hire, costs £95pp (07829 881889; lakeys.co.uk).

See Visit Jersey (jersey.com) for more information