Mention the south of France as your next vacation spot, and expect to hear rhapsodic accounts of the Côte d'Azur's holy trinity: Nice, Cannes and St. Tropez. In the half-century since Brigitte Bardot staked her claim in St. Tropez, the French Riviera has served as a seaside playground for the rich and famous, and a magnet for sun-seeking travellers looking to join the party.
But there's a hefty admission fee for rubbing Prada-clad elbows with the yacht set, and for those of us travelling on something resembling a budget, the price tag associated with Cannes and Monaco inspires a search for an undiscovered stretch of shore. The answer begins a couple of hours' drive away, in Marseilles.
France's gritty, unloved second city seems an unlikely gateway to coastal bliss. But while Marseilles is enjoying a renaissance in its own right among young French, its real treasure lies in the unspoiled Mediterranean coastline nearby, between the city and the better-known Cote D'Azur farther east. After leaving the airport, within 20 minutes' drive we are free of the city's grip and hurtling toward a series of imposing limestone cliffs. A vertigo-inducing descent on the hairpin turns of the D559 announces our arrival in Cassis. We find only a passing mention in many guidebooks of this picturesque, terra cotta-roofed fishing town, an omission that no doubt suits the crowds of Marseillais who flock here for holidays in July and August.
Life in Cassis centres on an old port that could easily be mistaken for St. Tropez, except for its relaxed air. Nestled under the eye of a dramatic medieval clifftop castle, patios line the water's edge, serving the catch of the day paired with a bottle of flinty white wine from the patchwork of vineyards that punctuate the town's hilly terrain. Locals run down the clock until sundown with a spirited game of boules on the seaside court. I quickly forget what day it is.
There are some perfectly adequate beaches to be lounged upon here, but supernatural splendour awaits in the Calanques, a series of finger-like inlets carved into pine-topped limestone cliffs. These French versions of fjords are anything but mundane, hiding vivid turquoise pools and tiny beaches accessible only by foot or small boat. Those adventurous enough to take the treacherous hour-and-a-half hike from Cassis to En Vau and Le Sugiton, the prettiest of the Calanques, are rewarded with an idyllic platform for sunbathing and swimming.
Not in the mood for scrambling down cliff faces in deck shoes, we elect to explore the Calanques in style aboard a private sailboat. This would be a bank-breaking proposition an hour east on the Côte d'Azur, but we find a day-long charter on a 40-foot sailing yacht in Cassis for the absurd price of 50 euros ($81) per person. Our captain, a convivial ex-Parisian executive named Dominique, knows he could charge more, but he doesn't seem to care.
Dominique pilots us in and out of the Calanques, where French holidayers laze in the sun and plunge into the pristine waters from the rocky outcroppings above. Late in the afternoon, we drop anchor in an uninhabited island cove, and for a moment, it's as though we have the entire coast to ourselves. Our only competition for this spot, the nudist occupants of a small motorboat, soon drive off – still naked – into the waning afternoon sun, tanned rears indifferent to prying eyes.
After a day's exposure to sun and sea, we have just enough energy to make the 20-minute walk up to our boutique bed and breakfast. The decision to forgo a generic seaside hotel pays off as we enter the gates of Maison No. 9. Down a rural laneway just beyond the buzz of the old town, the ochre façade of an old Provencal abode fronts a luxurious country sanctuary with four gorgeously renovated suites and an infinity pool looking out over the distant cliffs. It's a far cry from budget accommodation, but is a completely defensible splurge: A Cannes equivalent runs almost double the price.
