We woke early, ate breakfast at the hotel, and headed down into Cassis to the Tennis & Racquet Club, where we met our guide, Robin from Destination Calanques, for a four-hour sea-kayaking expedition into the Calanques.
The morning was chilly, and gusting wind did little to inspire confidence about what awaited us on the Mediterranean. Standing on shore preparing to launch, Kris was visibly shivering, and all four of us regarded the choppy water with some apprehension.
Then we started paddling.
Exertion quickly replaced cold, and apprehension gave way to exhilaration. We dug our paddles into the water, fighting into the wind and climbing and descending the swells as the limestone coastline slipped past us. At several points we had to paddle hard to keep the kayaks away from the rocks as the waves tried to push us toward them. It was physical enough to feel like an adventure without quite crossing the line into regrettable decision-making.
Eventually the cliffs opened and we paddled into the Calanque d'En-Vau.
It was spectacular.
Sheer limestone walls rose on either side of us while the water beneath our kayaks transformed into an almost implausible turquoise. At the end of the inlet sat a tiny pebble beach, nearly deserted. We pulled the kayaks ashore and suddenly had nowhere to go and nothing to accomplish.
We sat among the stones eating our jambon-fromage baguettes, soaking in the Mediterranean sun and staring at the cliffs and crystalline water surrounding us.
For a while, we simply felt free.
There was something deeply restorative about that little beach—a mixture of exertion, sunlight, isolation, and gratitude. It reminded us of our day along the Costa Brava, scrambling down the cliffs to another secluded Mediterranean cove. Apparently we are developing a particular affection for places where mountains abruptly surrender to impossibly blue water. We left En-Vau already talking about returning someday to kayak the Costa Brava.
The paddle back was considerably easier. The anxiety of the morning had disappeared, our bodies were warm, and before long we were hauling the kayaks ashore in Cassis, tired and invigorated.
Back at the hotel, Kris and Dad enjoyed a well-earned beer while serving as the official judging panel for the girls' increasingly elaborate dives into the pool. Technique, splash, courage, and theatrical value were all considered. Standards were exacting.
One final expedition into town for ice cream, and Cassis felt complete.
We had arrived under gray skies, watched the Mediterranean ignite beneath a spectacular sunset, paddled through wind and swells into En-Vau, sat beneath limestone cliffs with baguettes in our hands, drank beer by the pool, and eaten the obligatory ice cream.
Carrie was right. The Calanques deserved a place on the CWT.
Then we packed our little bags, climbed into the car, and headed back to Aix.
Back to the cell:
(because it can’t always be the Four Seasons when you are traveling for a year!)