We anchored around the southern part of the port in a nice, protected cove called Baie Canebiers (43 16.195 N 6 39.573 E). Mauro took us to a dinghy dock near a trail that we saw people hiking and jogging on. We took this sentier litoral (trail) into town after about a mile’s walk. We went through a cemetery with many of the more interesting tombstones I’ve seen, bronzed motorcycle helmets, faux records, many many ceramic flowers.
We entered the old town and immediately saw a little art gallery with works in progress hanging with completed works. I like the author’s style. He had fairly detailed, realistic sailboat race paintings, along with a few landscapes, and a series of St Tropez waterfront scenes. His stylized human form, made with 5 or 6 distinct strokes, really struck me. I bought one and shipped it home.
I liked St Tropez. We walked the waterfront, had gelatos, oogled the yachts, walked down the street with the beaches.
It was about what I expected, but it is still early in the season, so the beaches were not covered with Brigette Bardot wannabes waiting to be discovered, but several empty beach chairs and a few freezing tourists. We had lunch, Neal ate horse, chevalier. Ew. We walked around the fort and called Mauro. He asked us to kill some time, hoping the water would get calmer. It didn’t. We dinghied back from town in pure slop, bring the foulies kind, and we had dinner on board again. Seas were perturbed, but no big swell, but the wind was pretty strong.
After St. Tropez, we motored to St. Honorat, the island with the Cisterian monks who still run a monastery and makes wines. We had heard of this so we went to the restaurant and enjoyed a record breaking priced lunch. Apparently this is a big day sail destination from neighboring Cannes, where we couldn’t get a berth. In any marina. So the restaurant was a bit posher than we expected for a small island. What surprised us was how good the Chardonnay was! We bought 3 bottles and toured the monastery by hiking all the way around the island, about 3 miles.
With no berth and the weather coming up, we sailed to the other side of the sister island, Marguerite for the night. I don’t think we have ever been at anchor with such company. Six or eight yachts over 150 feet. I guess they couldn’t get into Cannes either, the week after the film festival. We hiked all the way around this island the next morning, 5 miles, I think.