Off we start with buoyant heart (or Do the French go Topless at the Beach?)

We were invited to hike Les Calanques with B&A - avid hikers, who have a holiday house in the next town.  From  Squidoo.com I learned:  "The blue waters of the Mediterranean run along the entire southern boundary of Provence, and include Les Calanques, a spectacular range of calcareous rocks almost like small fjords, just east of Marseille - and containing France's largest cliff (406m) at Cap Canaille."

B&A picked us up at 9am.  We were all in good spirits, checking to make sure everyone had brought what they needed- hat, bathing suits, sunblock, clean clothes (we were going to stop in Aix-en-Provence on our way home for dinner), picnic lunch, water.  Check, check, check.

The trails to Les Calanques are accessed from a small town, Cassis, which is about an hour's drive directly south to the coast.  We found a good parking spot.  Blue skies.

There is rarely a time that I start out on a trip that I don't sing (usually to myself, although Jeff and Bradford would certainly recognize it) a little ditty that my mother always sang in similar circumstances- "And off we start with buoyant heart and never a thought or care".  I sang silently.

We went down a hill, from where we parked, on a road for a short bit to the start of the trail and then down another bit and came to a beautiful cove with blue green water.  There were a few people for whom this was the end of the trail.  They were going to stay here, sunbathe, picnic, swim. We started the next climb.  We walked at a comfortable pace arriving at the top of the hill, winded, warmed.  I was thinking "what are we going to do now that we have reached the top?"  I had only to walk 20 steps more to see that the top was indeed the top, but we needed to go down the other side to get to the valley that led out to the next cove where we would stop for lunch.

I like to believe that I am a pretty good hiker. Two secrets:  I am afraid of steep drops.  My feet ache when I get close to an edge of any significant height.  I am also, I discovered, very conditioned to think about "up" then "down" constitutes a hike.  I play out my energy based on this conditioning.  

The descent was STEEP and narrow with the drop off to the left.  The larger rocks were worn smooth from millions of hikers, and the rest were small pebbles.  There were many spots where I needed to put my hands down and lower myself over an edge or a drop.  There was no way that I could step down without holding on.  For the first half of the descent I could only look at my feet.  The drop off was precipitous.  Jeff kept waiting for me, and offering his hand, but my pride wouldn't let me take it, nor look him in the eye.  The second half of the descent wasn't bad since there were no drop offs, just the path straight down.  We got to the valley floor and walked through wonderful rock formations and trees to our destination.

Here it is.  I always imagine that what I feel arriving at a place with spectacular scenery is what explorers or the Pilgrims must have felt.

If I thought that climbing down that steep descent was the toughest thing of the day, I had another thing coming.  I had to figure out how to put on my bathing suit while standing on the beach surrounded by people!  I know the burning question in readers' minds is "Is it true that the French sunbathe topless?".  I am relieved to tell you that they do not.  At least not at this beach.  Well I wiggled and giggled and hopped and dropped until I had gotten out of my clothes and into my bathing suit.

Proof is in the picture- there are my clothes drying on the beach.








A swim in the frigid waters, a baguette with pate and tomatoes, and a little sunning was enough to recharge our batteries and start back.

We decided to walk back up the steep hill that we descended.  Going up was nothing like coming down.  We were up in two shakes of a lamb's tail.  We decided to explore the top of the craggy peninsula.  We walked up inclines, down inclines, looked over the edges (as close as I could get anyway).  Here is one of the prettiest views I could get that shows the fjord-like characteristics of Les Calanques.  We had had lunch at the water's edge, and had now climbed to the top for this view: 

In spite of the spectacular views, my energy was waning.  I needed to know "how much longer?" in order to set myself mentally.  I remembered those long car rides as a kid where we all whined "Are we there yet??".  This wasn't dissimilar to the conversation I was having in my head.  But I couldn't bring myself to ask.  Up hills, down hills, around the bends, up another hill, down another.  We kept plodding on. I was tired.  It is hard to keep going when you don't know how much further you have to go.  We finally started down the last descent which actually had two more small ascents.

Getting back to the car felt great!


I had one more challenge for the day.  We drove into the local town, Cassis, to have a look around.  B&A showed us the main waterfront that was very pictoresque.  We had a drink.  When we got back to the parking garage, it was decided to change our clothes there in case we couldn't find anyplace to change in Aix-en-Provence. So, while snapping at Jeff that he didn't have to worry since he wasn't baring anything, I hid between cars and stripped off the day's hiking clothes and put on clean clothes for dinner. 


B&A philosophized throughout the day how good it was for a person to reach beyond their known capabilities.  Indeed!  I have added another thing to my list of known capabilities- changing clothes on the beach and in parking garages!!  Thanks, A!!


All under Blue skies!