It’s Azur thing, as one explorer goes beyond the blue to discover an amazing, technicolour dream Côte

The Bohemian painters of the 20th century and Scott Fitzgerald all luxuriated in the light and personality of the French Riviera. And movie stars from Elizabeth Taylor to Brad Pitt have chased its glamour and glitz. But on this trip Jean West kicks away the bling of the Côte d’Azur in favour of bold coastal footpaths and the blue, blue mer.

BEHIND the famous Croisette in Cannes, the strip of boulevard that sweeps before the glistening Mediterranean, the film industry is revving itself up for another International Film Festival.

Big name luminaries are already consulting with international designers over the best threads for the red-carpeted event. It will be a class act, all sequins and stilettos, shiny suits and boots, which paparazzi from across the globe will immortalise for a celebrity-hungry public.

But just around the corner from Les Palais des Festivals et des Congrès, I’m about to board a ferry for the Lérins Islands, scattered across a beautiful little archipelago, whose bucolic appeal is a heck of a lot more serene. The happy vessel transports us from the Old Port of Cannes on a short windswept voyage to  Île Sainte-Marguerite, where the high-living, cultured history of the mainland from Impressionism and Art Deco to swinging parties, super yachts and haute cuisine are all a murmur. In just 15 minutes we enter a parallel universe of flora and fauna so wild it snatches the breath. 

On this four-day jaunt to the Côte d’Azur I’m deliberately seeking the more enduring geography and geology that has attracted settlers for millenia. The landscapes and light that drew at first spiritual and then artistic contemplation to this stretch of coastline is showcased on the railway line that runs from just beyond France actually, and the Italian market town of Ventimiglia all the way to San Raphael.

But back for now to Cannes and its charming islands. It’s a bit choppy today crossing this broad ocean belt; sky and sea seemingly fused in hues of blue. Bright kite surfers are coursing the waves at adrenaline fuelled speed. It looks perilous and exhilarating as the glamorous people disappear on the horizon.

Shortly, the ferry releases us onto a turquoise shoreline stretching for a paradisiacal 9km, a long smudge of  seaweed and sand. We arrive in a magnetic wilderness on this, the largest of the islands, home to the first underwater museum in France, an ancient prison and remarkable ecosystems and coastal biodiversity. Close by is another rocky outcrop, the Île St Honorat, home to a community of Cistercian monks isolated for centuries amidst the salty brine. They are known for making wine and olive oil and St Patrick was said to have been schooled there.

On Île Sainte-Marguerite, the sea air and smell of pine trees, rough footpaths, bird reservations that attract migratory visitors, vibrant butterflies and an alleyway of eucalyptus, etch out a natural world reluctant to be disturbed. Here  incredible gardens rest and grow, amidst ancient woodland. There’s apparently a lake to the west of the island, which is a closed nature reserve. But there is also evidence of a military past, a furnace that heated cannonballs for Napoleon, a WWI bunker, and Fort Royal, where the Man in the Iron Mask was incarcerated. Eek!

We wander to a piece of shingle beach and picnic watching the bustle of the mainland before reaching for our walking shoes and following footpaths past little coves that become swimming havens for a gentle afternoon.

We wonder at giant stumps of trees, circles of stone and the odd statue punctuating our walk. A menacing gull warns me away from what must be a nest on the shoreline. The wind is fierce in exposed places but inland, beneath the trees, the sense of calm is beyond description.

In 2021, British artist Jason deCaires Taylor, plunged beneath the ocean here to create a unique installation of sculptures.  A hundred or so metres from the shore he constructed an underwater museum using ph-neutral material to build six epic sculptures of fractured human faces. Here snorkelers can explore his visual interpretation of local people including a nine-year-old girl and an 80-year-old man with fish and wild seagrass tickling their toes. 

A day earlier we crossed another wild hunk of landscape on the striking peninsula just outside the pretty bustling town of Antibes. After a morning sauntering through the colourful Marche Provencal in Antibes – dating back to the 12th century when craftsmen and  farmers visited towns to peddle their wares – a quick espresso and swim at the town beach, we begin our hike around the Cap d’Antibes.

We head for a stunning two hour 4.8 km hiking trail circling the wilder part of the Cap, nicknamed after the mistral wind that sculpted these cliffs over millennia. Its moniker  ‘tire-poil’ which means pullhair describes the sea breeze that so ruins the barnets of tourists. We start at Garoupe Beach and just keep walking – the mostly coastal trail is dotted with olive groves, wild maquis and ubiquitous pine, and comprises gravel paths, limestone cliffs and slippery stones with steep trails overlooking the ocean. 

On the way we enjoy the hardy wildflowers, the blood-red poppy, sea lavender and barbe de jupiter; there are sea puffins, knotty tree roots, piles of silky drift wood and an ocean of rocks. You can spy the odd villa through the trees but the public won back the land from the mansion-owners who privatised stretches of it in the 20th century. That’s a win for visitors too. At sunset it’s especially compelling. 

Back in Antibes we wander the quaint cobbled streets which host guided walking tours, spirited nightlife, crepes, Aperol Spritz,  the best coffee and the coolest artistic vibes. This town is well worth a long weekend. Its strip of sandy beach, Plage Salis, and Vieux Ville pull, ancient Renaissance fortress, with the most splendid parkland, and Musée Picasso, keep us occupied.

As we wander the windey back alleyways, birds sing in cages, geraniums dash from window boxes to the light and an old lady peeking through net curtains asks if we are “yachties,” the summer workers who flock to the magical seafaring port. 

It seems like an eon since we jumped off the plane and took a dash into Nice – just half an hour by tram from the airport. 

Urban and cosmopolitan this city is full of personality, the beach is a generous compliment to a vibrant Niçoise culture knitted into fashionable and traditional streets. And Nice is also bathed like the rest of the coastline with around 300 days of sunshine. We hop on a bus tour thanks to our French Riviera passes –  welcome respite for tired feet – which offers a deeper dive into this multifaceted destination. From the top deck, we have a better view of the seven resin statues known as Conversations in Nice perched high on plinths in the central square, Place Massena by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, opaque and waxy by day, but  glowing surreal multicolours into the night. The walkway of fountains, pools and botanical flora beneath encourage the tourist vibe in a city that has been drawing in visitors since before the suntan was a thing. They dip in and out of cultural experiences like the Musée Matisse and Musée National Marc Chagall and swanky hotels including the famous Negresco and Palais de la Mediterranee. We sweep past the Baie de Anges after being wowed by the fort at nearby VilleFranche with its chequered historical past.  VilleFranche has its own sweet little beach if you need refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life.

There’s so much to take in. Sweet Mimosa, jasmine, lavender, Waseau de Paradis and bougainvillaea decorate gardens like floral costume jewellery issuing heady fragrances long-distilled in nearby Provence. The yearly Battle of the Flowers, that runs along the famed seafront boulevard in Nice, which sees imperial looking floats decked with thousands of blooms flung into the crowds in early spring underlines an important significance of the humble flower.

And then back to a traditional Nicois restaurant where lunch feels authentic and the proprietor is welcoming and fun. We dine on small dishes of local cuisine.The risotto is exquisite. How is it made? “With love,” he intones. It feels that way – without being cheesy, the place, the clientele, the location in the heart of the real Côte d’Azur has an honest integrity about it. We wander through the nearby flower and produce markets in Cours Selaya – and then into an antiques market selling vintage posters and more contemporary art. 

Later, we hired a Segway with our French Riviera passes; the upright standing two wheeled vehicles looked daunting. But our pass affords us a coach and this sassy transport proves a delight. As the sun bids farewell and the sky bleeds its colour into dusk we zip quietly past buskers along the Promenade des Anglais. We wonder at the great blue chair, upended before the azure sea, a symbol of welcome along this sweeping vista and another piece of more demanding art that has divided opinion, and on and on, taking in the jugglers, joggers, rappers and contortionists, in a vibrant international setting hell bent on making memories. 

• British Airways and Easyjet are amongst operators offering return flights from Edinburgh to Nice.
• Jean had lunch at A Bouteghinna in Rue del Marche in the Old Town.
• She explored the Côte d’Azur courtesy of French Riviera passes from Explore Nice Côte d’Azur
• Trains run between Ventimiglia and St Raphael regularly and rockets can be purchased at individual stations or online. From Nice to Antibe expect to pay E5.90 and Nice to St Raphael E13.90
• For information about the Lérins Islands see: https://en.cannes-france.com