I’ve written about France for 20 years – here are my favourite places to visit

25.03.2024 - 12:55 / theguardian.com / Art

When you can gaze on the salt pans of Guérande, near Nantes, cycle through lavender fields in Drôme, in the south-east, and bask in the splendour of the Cirque de Gavarnie in the Pyrénees, you have to wonder how France got so lucky with its diverse landscapes. Most recently, the volcanic landscape of the Massif Central captured my heart. The chain of extinct volcanoes runs south from the highest, Le Puy de Dôme (there’s a rack railway to the top) near Clermont-Ferrand.

South of the rugged peaks in Cantal, the town of Chaudes-Aigues has two hot springs – Europe’s hottest at 65C and 82C – that spurt from spouts in the town square. Two hours east, the extraordinary town of Le Puy-en-Velay is the starting point for the medieval pilgrimage trail to Santiago de Compostela. Its Saint-Michel d’Aiguilhe chapel sits atop a basalt needle, while its other peaks are topped by the cathedral and a Notre Dame de France statue.

It isn’t just the landscapes that vary so much across the country – France’s coast has so many characteristics there is a name for every stretch. On the Côte d’Opale, on the north coast, I’ve sat and admired the belle époque villas; further west, on Brittany’s Côte de Granit Rose, I have swum in coves surrounded by pink-hued boulders carved into extraordinary shapes by wind and sea. In the south-west, I’ve basked in the sunshine and dug my toes into silky blond sand as the Atlantic rolled into shore at Capbreton on the Côte d’Argent; and I’ll never forget an impromptu paddle from a tiny beach hidden between oyster farmers’ huts at L’Herbe on Cap Ferret, on the other side of Arcachon Bay.

France’s coast is dotted with islands, all with distinct identities. On the Atlantic coast, I fell in love with the Île d’Yeu, which was reminiscent of Greece, with its whitewashed houses and colourful shutters, while the Île de Porquerolles off the Côte d’Azur saw us cycling past pine-fringed beaches and vineyards.

The one that really sticks in the memory, though, is Brittany’s Ushant (Île d’Ouessant in French), in the Iroise Sea off the far west coast. On a warm summer’s day, we cycled over its moorland, past lighthouses and green-shuttered cottages. When we reached the Pointe de Pern, the most westerly point of metropolitan France, I couldn’t believe the roar as the Atlantic waves crashed against the tumble of brown rocks.

Those in search of natural highs aren’t short of opportunities in L’Hexagone. Now our children are a bit older, paddling on the beach won’t cut it, so we’ve hired sand yachts and darted across the broad beach at Barbâtre on the Île de Noirmoutier off the coast near Nantes. In many forests across France, we’ve swung and climbed through the trees on accrobranche treetop adventures.

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