It was 2:30pm, my stomach was rumbling and the heat of anger was building between my ears. Remi had an idea in his head and he wasn’t going to stop for our picnic until he had made it a reality. I tried to bite back my bitterness at the thought of the near empty beaches we had passed along the way at Sausset-les-Pins and even a rocky crique at Carry-le-Rouet with a direct view on the sea where the dogs would have been welcome too. On we drove beyond beach shacks crowded with laughing diners on their second bottle of rosé and relaxed bronzed beauties languorously rearranging their limbs.
I crossed my legs for the tenth time, trying to shake the spiders out of my veins and worried as the dogs shuffled with longing in the back. “Ok, ok just this last try. I know what I am looking for exists,” Remi insisted and it made me furious. “A bit of land with a view above the sea? All to ourselves? On a Sunday in high season?” I responded silently for the sarcasm was rising fast, I could see that there were no roads for where he wanted to go, we had been turned back at dead ends too many times…And then he found it.
The unmarked path rose sharply, dissembled into dirt and opened onto an enclosure…
…where two empty picnic tables were waiting, not a person in sight…
…with a view over the sea and…
…Ben! Get out of the photo!…
…the shade of pines to swish with the crash of the waves into a patch of peace.
Immediately, the goods were laid out. Paté, jambon, beurre, cornichons, brie. The simpler our picnics become, the more I enjoy them.
I kicked off my shoes under the table…
…where several beggars slyly surveyed our every move until…
…with a sigh Remi and I laid back on our respective benches, looking up at the flickering sun until sleep claimed us all.
We woke refreshed, not having been disturbed in the least during our sieste. I couldn’t help but think of the crowds we had left behind in Arles. And of all the times during our travels when Remi would declare, camera at the ready, “I just need a man to walk across in front of the monument/church/mosque/temple now,” and…he would.
But, as glorious as this is, others are more fortunate than we. Several small cabanons are perched at the cliff’s summit, including this petit bijou…
…that looked out on to quite a view.
We took the dirt path to its end and clambered up to the top of a winding crest. All of Marseille was waiting to greet us.
It was quite something to behold.
Scrub-like maquis that are surprisingly similar to the land of our nearby Alpilles, did a dip drop directly into the Big Blue.
“Ici, ça s’appelle La Côte Bleue.” We were corrected by a fit gentleman who paused to pet the puppers while out for his daily walk through the hills. His smile widened as he added with a wink, “C’est la Riviera pour les pauvres.” And yet we certainly didn’t feel so poor at the moment, on the contrary, quite rich with the giddy surprise to have found a spot guaranteed to set the dream motors running after eight years of living so close and yet so far.
Perhaps this panoramic stretch had been surpassed by the more scenic calanques further east? Or is it just a carefully guarded secret?
It was bumpy breaking back into the bustle below.
So I thought of the man striding the hills above us as we turned the car back towards Arles. How he must be breathing in the salt, the wind whipping his cap, no sound but the distant sea between his ears like a cupped shell. I turned over my shoulder and took a grateful glance to the Mediterranean as we turned inland, knowing that when the moment is right, I will be more patient. It will be worth all the time in the world to sail into La Côte Bleu once more…
I remember that gorgeous view from our trip in April. You were lucky to find such a beautiful spot for your picnic!
With early morning rain falling outside the window and the promise of another wet, gray day here, you've provided a lovely reminder that somewhere out there a blue sky and picnic table are waiting. . .
And the same to you!
Honestly neither of us are entirely certain that we will be able to find it again!!!
xo
H
Thank you Gina. Yep, my boys look out for me. 🙂
Ah, they were given ham and baguette–a deconstructed sandwich if you wish and a big treat compared to their usual slices of emmenthal. 🙂
Is that sad? Why no. For you know of beauty that I have only seen in my mind's eye.
And it truly is amazing how often that posture works for Remi when he really fixes on something specific.
N, that land is protected! Woot woot! So now building can happen–alas, not even more cabanons. And something tells me those folks that have the few that exist would not sell them for any price…
Soon Jeanne, soon…!
Thank you, dear Marsha. And if memory serves me (as it often doesn't), this is not the first time that you have said that Remi is always right. It kills me to admit it but it is true! 😉
Hi Heather
The perfect picnic. You forgot to put the attached Google Map so we can all go….hee hee
This deserves to be kept top secret.
To a great week
Helen xx