Step away from the crowds into a mélange of Mediterranean coastal walks, perfect for autumn, winter and spring.
The French Riviera may not be the first area that springs to mind when you think of places to walk and hike, but there’s more to it than casinos, beach bars, and designer shops.
Hotspots like Saint-Tropez, the lavender fields, and the Calanques National Park traditionally get overrun with visitors in the high season, but the Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur region is promoting alternative sustainable destinations, including ones you can explore off-season.
Taking their lead, I set out to see the azure coast from a different angle, in search of untamed beauty instead of manicured glamour.
I’ve picked a selection of distances, ranging from 5 km to 16 km, and a variety of terrain from tarmac to scrubland. The walks in Antibes and Menton are easy, but the one in Nice is more demanding and involves a big climb out of the city.
Where the sea and sky meet: Antibes’ tire-poil path
It’s a sunny late November morning, and I’m embarking on a 5 km flat walk around the southernmost tip of Cap d’Antibes. The path’s name, Sentier de Tire-poil, means ‘Hair-pull path’ due to the omnipresent sea breeze but today it’s gentle, and the skies are blue.
Driftwood – not yet snatched up to build tipi structures on the sand – crisscrosses Garoupe Beach, and a line of palm trees points the way to my starting point.
Cap d’Antibes, a large headland southwest of the town, is part of the Natura 2000 European network of natural sites that have been identified for their quality, fragility, and scarcity with an aim to protect marine and terrestrial biodiversity.
The inky line of the horizon bisects the blues of the sky and sea as I look back on the bays of Antibes, Nice, and further on to Italy. The snow-capped foothills of the Alps line up behind.
I’ve barely walked 100 m before I spot the geological stripes on the prehistoric rock as well as clumps of Posidonia, a sea algae that provides food and shelter to numerous marine species.
My head swivels to marvel at a yelkouan shearwater bird that flaps maniacally above me, and then I’m crouching to spot sprigs of sea lavender and stroke the furry leaf of jupiter’s beard before moving on.
The path is a mix of orderly tarmac, steps that undulate among the boulders, and big rocks over which I clamber and leap.
I’m too busy preventing trips to spot whales and dolphins so I find a spot for a picnic: first treading a careful line between two large rock pools that were used in Roman times as a cold store for the catch of the day.
Corners of paradise like this rarely escape the eyes of the rich, and Cap d’Antibes is no exception.
The path takes you past Chateau de la Croë, the erstwhile pad for King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson, and now the vast residence of Roman Abramovich.
Then, it’s on to the state-owned Villa Eilenroc, which marks the end of the coastal path. I snake its perimeter fence inland and back to the start of the loop.
Along Nice’s ancient salt Pagarine route
When on Nice’s iconic beach, I’m usually gearing myself up for a mad dash down its steep shelve to splash inelegantly in the deep turquoise water.
Today, though, I turn my back on the siren call of the sea and cross the road into the ancient marketplace of Cours Saleya.
I’m on a mission.
A proper 16 km hike with 700 m elevation gain, which will take me from Nice’s seafront up into the hinterland and on to Aspremont village.
Stopping only to stock up on ‘socca’ (a chickpea pancake and a Nice speciality) at Chez Theresa’s stall, I set off through the narrow streets of Vieux Nice, retracing the steps of salt-laden mules.
In the Middle Ages, there was a lot of salt production on the Mediterranean coastline, and it was all brought to Nice to be unloaded, weighed, and taxed before traders were allowed to leave town with their haul.
After leaving the Old Town, I turn right and start my climb, first through the elegant streets of Cimiez with its Belle Epoque mansions and then via a short stretch of busier highway to the top.
It’s a relief to escape the sun’s heat and the road noise as I turn onto a path alongside the leafy Canal Gairaut, which weaves around Nice’s balcony, providing shade for walkers and runners.
I stop to admire the view of Nice’s huge and breathtaking bay and then join a scrub path that leads the way to my destination, the small hilltop town of Aspremont.
Lemons and modernism: In the footsteps of Le Corbusier in Menton
When life gives you lemons, you know you’re in wonderful Menton, one of the last French Riviera towns before the border, which was Italian until 1861.
The humid microclimate in Menton makes it the ideal spot for citrus growing: not only are the ‘agrumes’ abundant and super-sized – they are also sweet.
Although the Corbusier Promenade starts at Carnolès (just west of Menton), I extend my walk to Roquebrune-Cap-Martin by starting on Menton’s seafront and taking a once-around the Jardin du Palais de Carnolès en route to gawp at the dew-soaked fruits.
After the park, I return to the prom and carry on westwards towards the Cap Martin.
There are numerous small and attractive, wiggly paths that lead down to swimming platforms along the coast and climb back up again to the road.
After 10 minutes of rather unpromising pavement walking, the well-paved Corbusier path forks off to the left, and I make my way down to the water’s edge, spotting a small bust of the eponymous modernist architect on my left.
The paths down to the sea continue to tantalise, and I dream of cosy-clad families in summer, dipping in and out of the azure water, with a view of Monaco and the Cap d’Ail peninsula beyond.
I wander up and down steps, past goats grazing on the grounds of coastal mansions, and head along the two vertiginous metal walkways that cling to the cliff below the railway line.
Just before Roquebrune, I spot a gate and a sign to Irish designer Eileen Gray’s E1027 architectural masterpiece.
Here, I take a pre-booked tour with guide Elisabetta, who shows me around the modernist sea villa, Le Corbusier’s Cabanon, the Etoile de Mer bar-restaurant, and camping units. As a lover of modernist architecture, this is a dream come true for me.
Once the tour is over, I plod happily down to Plage de Buse for one last look back at the path and Gray’s defining work before catching the train back to Menton.
These three walks offered accessibility but also provided a fascinating historical, natural, and cultural context to this area of France.
Most importantly, I felt like I was sampling ‘la vraie France’ (the real France) like a local -rather than treading the same old tourist footsteps.
