The Calanques, Part II

After a week or so in Aix we’d been on the road for roughly 2 months, so we were over the initial feverish, “Quick, we gotta get up and see [insert name of touristy spot here] and then get over to [insert name of other touristy spot] before the line forms!  Go, GO, GO!”

We had finally adopted a much slower pace and with less than a week to go in Provence we were simply living a tranquil, unhurried life.  Doing errands, working out, getting to the playground as frequently as possible, wandering the market, making meals, and spending time together.  True, it was in place that was wonderfully strange to us, but getting less so every day.

Braeden had by this time sold Juliann on the notion of getting him a scooter (“Mommy, if I have a scooter I won’t ever, ever get tired of walking again.  Plus I’ll have Minions.”) and she miraculously found a Minions scooter in a local toy store called Joue Club.

B had been telling us since Paris that he was going to ask Santa for a Minions scooter, so when she saw it in the store that was it.  She told him that the next day she would be taking him for a surprise.  He was excited, of course, and spent the entire rest of the day pestering us about the surprise, what it would be, where it was, what flavor was it, was it ice cream, and could he please, please, PLEASE get it today instead.

Lesson #7,967,421 learned.  Next time just spring it on him instead of giving advance notice.

The next day arrived and Juliann brought Braeden to the toy store at 2pm (on that day they weirdly opened at 2…you have to love the French) only to find a note posted in the window that they were delaying their opening for an hour to do inventory.

Naturally the boy was freaking out knowing that the surprise had something to do with the toy store, so he was bouncing off the walls for the next hour.  They returned an hour later to find an apologetic store clerk out in the street explaining to a few crestfallen kids that, actually, Joue Club would not be opening today because inventory was apparently out of control and was going to take the rest of the day.

Braeden took it like a champ but of course it made the next 24 hours even less bearable than the previous 24 hours, so by the time he returned home with his scooter in a box, beaming, both Mom and Dad were relieved that he finally had it.  He and Mom assembled it on the floor of our living room and soon he was out in the driveway of the building, scooting around with the biggest imaginable smile on his face.

During our last week in Aix we decided that the Calanques of Cassis were so beautiful that we had to go back, so we researched a bit and found a tour operator that provided snorkeling trips.  We made a few phone calls to reserve our spots and we were ready to go.

The tour operator was based in Marseilles, so we made the 45 minute drive down, parked along the waterfront near the MuCEM, the Museum of European and Mediterranean Civilizations, and met our skipper, Donny, at a quiet wharf next to the museum.

The boat was a cozy 25 footer and there were only 10 of us on the tour.  There was a very nice American couple, the three of us, and an older French gentleman named Henri, his 30-something son, his Chinese daughter-in-law, and her parents.  Lovely people all, and we had a great day with them.

Donny took us out to a craggy island just offshore that boasted cliffs at least 500-600’ high, then turned into a hidden crack in one of them that was no more than 30’ across.  It was a calanque, a small one, and we marveled as he slowly took us in, winding through the rock, the cliffs towering over us, the sandy bottom clearly visible about 30 feet below in the gin-clear water.  It had been used by drug smugglers in the 70’s and 80’s, he told us, and it was easy to see why.  You could host a good-sized operation in that little calanque and no one motoring by outside would know anything about it.

Donny took us in as far as our boat would fit, then he slowly backed out and he turned the craft east towards Cassis.

We stopped about 15 minutes later just outside a calanque in a beautiful bay.  The water was about 20 feet deep and crystal clear.  Donny warned us to watch out for jellyfish, which weren’t life-threatening but could easily ruin the day, and we grabbed masks and snorkels and jumped in.

Braeden had been asking about jumping off a boat all week, so he could barely stand still when he realized that the time had come to jump in.  I got in first, and when we gave him the go he leapt into the water, arms wide.  He loved it.  We swam around for a bit, then he had fun climbing the swim ladder and jumping back in over and over.  I dove down and checked out some of the rocks to see if I could find any interesting fish, and before we knew it it was time to head to our next stop.

Donny then took us to the base of an impressive cliff, but the area seemed otherwise uninteresting.  We anchored, then he said, “Jump in and swim over there,” he pointed to a small crack at the waterline at the bottom of the cliff, “inside is a blue cave.  Have fun.”

We looked at him for a moment in disbelief, then grabbed our masks and snorkels and jumped in.  I couldn’t get Braeden interested in a mask so he just wore his PFD and we held hands as we swam the 40 or so yards to the mouth of the cave, far ahead of the rest of the group.

Donny had assured us that there was no sea life in the cave, but as we approached it I got nervous.  What if just this once a huge shark had decided to chill out inside and wait for some yummy snorkelers to come along?

The mouth of the cave visible above water was small – there was perhaps 18 inches of clearance between the surface of the water and the top of the mouth.  Below, however, the water was about fifteen feet deep, and as we got closer I could see no better into the blackness beneath.

I wish I could say I was nervous only for my son, but I was pretty scared for myself as well.  We reached the mouth and could see absolutely nothing inside, and Braeden said, “Daddy, I don’t want to go in.”

I looked at him, smiled, and replied, “Buddy, we’ll hang out here for a minute to let the fear subside and then we’ll go in together, ok?  I’m a little scared too.”

He looked at me, looked at the black mouth of the cave, and nodded very seriously.  We tread water for a minute or so, and then I said, “Ok, bud, time to do this.”

He nodded again and we swam into the inky darkness.

Once we passed the mouth of the cave and our eyes adjusted we could see the inside of the cave.  It was beautiful.  I’ve seen pictures and video of “blue caves” from around the world and this one didn’t disappoint.  I’m guessing that the sunlight from outside bounces around beneath the water and the only wavelength that makes it inside the cave is blue, so inside the dimly lit cave the water seems to sparkle a deep turquoise blue that’s absolutely stunning.

Braeden and I swam inside and once our eyes adjusted we were absolutely transfixed.  The cave was about thirty feet high inside and extended 50 or so feet from the mouth to the back wall.  We swam to the back where the water was shallow enough to climb out onto some large boulders and we watched as the water sparkled like sapphires scattered on a blanket.  Our fellow tourists started entering the cave, and we watched as their eyes adjusted and experienced the same wonder.

Henri climbed up on the rocks next to Braeden and I and we marveled at the cave together in French, with Braeden chiming in in English when he could.  Absent sunlight it was cold in the cave, and we stayed until we were all shivering.  We clambered off the slippery rocks and swam out of the beautiful blue cave and into the warm sun.

We warmed up on the boat while we waited for the others to return, then Donny took us to another calanque, this one with a small village inside.  He explained that the village had no electricity and the people who owned the houses weren’t allowed to sell them, which helped to keep the village small and undeveloped.

The ride back to Marseille was brief, and once back on the wharf we thanked Donny and said goodbye to our fellow tourists.  We changed out of our wet suits and went in search of lunch, which we found right on the harbor.  The restaurant was nothing special but the food was good (as usual, this was France, after all) and the view was spectacular.  After lunch we wandered around Marseille a bit, checking out Old Town, then headed back to our car.

On the ride back we agreed that revisiting the Calanques was one of the best decisions we’d made on our travels so far.  We returned the car and walked back to our flat in Aix, made dinner and racked out for the night, exhausted.

A couple of days later we packed our bags, headed to the bus station and said a sad farewell to Aix.  Aix-en-Provence has been Juliann’s favorite place so far, and it’s easy to see why.  The climate is warm but comfortable.  The people are friendly and accommodating.  The food and wine is spectacular.  And Provence itself is a charming place.

We miss it already, but even as we were leaving we were already becoming excited about our next destination: the French Riviera and the city of Antibes.