From the mountains to the Med: a self-guided walk in Provence, France

Behind Cassis beach, the castle-topped cliffs glint red-gold in the late afternoon sun. Couples stroll on the sand, kids play on the carousel, pastel-coloured buildings reflect in the still waters of the old harbour. In the main square, lined by plane trees, a group of elderly men concentrate on a game of petanque. It’s a charming slice of Provençal life, a world away from the Cote D’Azur’s more glitzy hotspots. In summer, tourists flock to the narrow streets and pretty coast, but off season the buzz is gentler, with weekenders feasting on bouillabaisse along the water’s edge.

I grab a seat at a bar overlooking the Med and check out my walking route for the next day. Cassis is in the heart of the Calanques national park – an extraordinary place of steep fjord-like limestone inlets, deep green pines and turquoise sea – perfect for exploring on foot. It’s a fitting finale to a solo self-guided hiking trip with Macs Adventure, which has taken me from the Sainte-Baume mountains down to the Riviera over six days. While my hiking legs have been put to the test with up to six hours of walking each day, I’ve not had to worry about logistics. The routes are plotted on the app and my luggage is transferred ahead, leaving me to simply enjoy the scenery.

Solo travel is on the rise, according to the Association of British Travel Agents and tour operators (17% of Macs Adventure trips were booked by single travellers last year – most of them women). Offering the freedom to go at my own pace without having to interact with a group, but with help on hand if needed, this trip promised a winning mix of adventure and comfort; an ideal way to explore less-trodden Provence alone.

The seafront at Cassis with Cap Canaille looming behind. Photograph: Davide Guidolin/Alamy

My adventure begins with a night in the village of Pont-de-l’Étoile, 30 minutes east of Marseille by taxi, before I set out on my first hike: 10 miles (16km) to Plan-d’Aups-Sainte-Baume. Tarmac soon gives way to stony paths as I leave urban streets behind and climb towards the ridge above Vallon St-Clair through a landscape of craggy limestone valleys, softened by shrubs such as cistus and broom and pockets of pine and oak woodland. Close to the ancient chapel of St-Clair, a mountain biker whizzes past but then silence descends again and there’s just me and sweeping views all the way back to Marseille.

In summer, there is an acute risk of wildfires in this part of France, and water cisterns dot the route (it’s advisable to do this hike in spring or autumn). I climb what looks like a giant wooden chair (a lookout tower perhaps?) to picnic under the bluest skies, then continue upwards along narrow tracks towards Col de Bertagne. There’s no one around. I’m nailing it as a solo hiker, I think.

But my smugness morphs into contained panic when my phone battery dies and I realise I’ve left my paper map and power bank behind. There is no one around. I take a punt and scramble down the hillside, battling through dense forest until I find a path which eventually leads to a road. More through luck than judgement, I find myself in Plan-d’Aups and the welcome sight of the Hôtel Lou Pèbre d’Aï – my home for the next two nights – just two hours later than planned. I’m delighted to find my room has a bath and sleep deeply that night.

“Walkers love it here,” the receptionist tells me as I prepare to head off the next day, “the mountains are sacred – you’ll see.” Indeed, the Massif Sainte-Baume draws pilgrims to its hidden chapels and holy sites. Today’s circular walk is nine miles; I climb steep paths through woods to a ridge which I follow for a couple of hours, with 360-degree views across countryside and coast. The route takes me past shrines, hermit caves and the Sanctuary of Mary Magdalene (she’s said to have lived a life of penance here for many years) before a shady forested descent.

Sanctuary of Mary Magdalene, on the Massif Sainte-Baume. Photograph: Herve Lenain/Alamy

That night I dine on endives with walnuts and goat’s cheese and monkfish in a Provençal sauce – the hotel is known for its cuisine prepared by chef Jérôme. On a table nearby, an elderly man gets out an A4-size image of a gilded saintly figure and props it up next to him while he eats, like a friend joining him for dinner. I think it’s Mary Magdalene.

The delightful town of Gémenos is 20 minutes by road from Plan-d’Aups, but the route I follow the next day takes five hours – and is perhaps my favourite walk yet. It feels wild and remote, with paths zigzagging next to deep gorges. I pass the ruins of a Cistercian abbey and follow a river into pretty parkland. From here it’s two short bus rides down to Cassis, and flashes of ocean appear between the trees. Three nights at the Hotel Royal Cottage and a new landscape await.

On a stretch of coast known more for the glamour of Saint-Tropez, Cannes and Nice, it’s refreshing to discover La Ciotat – an unpretentious former shipbuilding town a 15-minute taxi ride east of Cassis. I wander suburban streets then climb to the top of the Soubeyran cliffs – the highest sea cliffs in France at Cap Canaille. Lingering morning mist clears to reveal the spectacular indented coastline as I follow the winding Route des Crêtes back.

The path above Port-Pin. Photograph: Hemis/Alamy

My last day is saved for the Calanques to the west of Cassis. The wind is up and rain is threatened but I head out past the sprawling villas on the outskirts of town and soon reach the Calanque de Port-Miou, boats bobbing on agitated water. In high summer, visitor numbers to the park are restricted to protect the delicate environment. Today I’m almost alone as I scramble up and down, descending to the white beach of Port-Pin, climbing above Calanque d’en-Vau, then descending again through a rocky ravine to the water. Its beauty feels even more raw under the darkening sky and distant roll of thunder.