Having resolved to explore Les Calanques further, we headed down to the Grand Plage to hire kayaks. Unfortunately they had none free until 3 pm. So we booked for 3 pm and decided to lounge about until then.  First stop one of the chic shops to track down a new bikini as my last one was showing signs of wear and tear. This one was having an end of season sale – everything 30 euros! – so I resolved to splash out. I found one I liked and took it up to pay. Only as she rang it up, I realised everything was 30 euros –  each! So 30 euros for the bottom – and 30 euros for the top. I gritted my teeth and said nothing. So I paid 60 euros. My all time most expensive bikini. Was it worth it? No! I do love it but it is just a plain black bikini, and honestly no better than the one I purchased in Primark for a fiver. But serves me right for buying a bikini in a coastal resort in the South of France.

Last ever picture of my sunglasses

On with the day. It was a beautiful sunny day and I was in my element, stretched out on the gritty sand of the Grand Plage. David, however, was restless – he’s not a lounge lizard like me – and he was soon off, exploring the nooks and crannies of the town. I was charged with watching the bags. He would return every now and then, bearing the spoils of his search. So soon he was back with two glasses of the wine of Cassis, which we enjoyed with our usual picnic of bread and cheese. After lunch, he was off again, and before I had had time for 40 winks, he was back with ice creams, pink grapefruit for him and mandarin for me. Delicious! Apparently the pink grapefruit was poor. Aww.

The wind was getting up and the sea was choppy. Not ideal for our kayak trip but hey ho, we were booked. We went up to the hire place, just across the beach, and were briefed. We had our two man kayak for 3 hours, in which time an animated Frenchman recommended, nay, instructed us to head for Les Calanques, sticking as close as we could to the rocks due to the rough weather, and being careful to keep to the right. There were two inlets, and he confided that we had to paddle like the wind to the far inlet if we wanted to avoid losing the light. And the far inlet was definitely the one he recommended, but he warned us that it wasn’t a kayak for the faint hearted. It would take us an hour to get there, and an hour to get back. The entire trip was a distance of 8 kilometres.

So off we went.

And it was hard. Soooo hard. It got off to a tricky start with a sharp launch off the beach, during which a big wave swamped the boat, soaking the dress which I wore over my bikini. Possibly not the best choice of outfit, as it was soon floating around my legs like a wet blanket.

I kid you not, I have never paddled so hard in my life. There was no let up. As soon as one of us tried to rest, the kayak started to go backwards. My fingers were turning numb. The waves were enormous. Every now and then one of us would jam our finger between the paddle and the kayak. Just trying to paddle in sync was a challenge.  I was vaguely aware of people fishing off the limestone rocks, the odd man standing with his hands on his hips, starkers. But only very vaguely.

And then it got harder (the paddling!) As we came nearer to Les Calanques, we had to move around a headland, past a big rock and away from the coast. We were approaching the first of the two inlets, the one that we didn’t want to go in. The current grew stronger and in addition, boats were zooming up and down, cutting across our path and leaving us rocking in their wake. I felt as if I was in a reality TV show. Help, I’m a lazy beach loving tourist, get me out of here.

Finally, finally, we were entering the further of the two inlets. And it was still hard. But it was stunning. The limestone cliffs rapidly narrowing. The boats dropping away. The beach was in sight at very end of the narrow inlet. Unfortunately, it was in shadow. However, to the right, there was a rocky landing place scattered with a few intrepid adventurers which was still in the sun. With great difficulty, we managed to moor the kayak, lashing it to a jutting rock, and climbed on land.

We had made it! David was whooping with excitement, firing off photos like they were going out of fashion. I staggered about, taking in the stunning landscape, feeling cold, my legs trembling beneath me.

A few short minutes later, the sun was gone, and we were off again, almost losing a paddle as we amateurishly boarded the kayak. Half way out of the inlet, I realised I had left my sunglasses on the rocks. Ah well. No way I was going back.

The journey back was a relative joy with the wind pushing us in the right direction. But now we were racing a low sea fog, which was threatening to engulf us.

We beat it, and made the shore, a good 15 minutes early.

I’m not sure how we made it up the hill to the campsite, still in our wet things. And then after a hot shower, back down to the town in time for sunset, to eat Moules Frites.

We shall sleep well tonight!