Thursday, July 24, 2014
As I predicted yesterday, with the advent of my land line, the world has pushed in. My first unsolicited phone call was from someone calling on behalf of a voyant, a seer, whom --the caller informed me-- had been seen on television. I had no need of the services of a clairvoyant, I explained and hung up. At midnight the phone rang repeatedly, but I couldn't rouse myself to answer it --no one who knows me could possibly be calling at that hour.
Feeling the world was, perhaps, too much with me, I and my visitor, Matthew Haley, drove to Narbonne Plage. The weather in the area was predicted to be in the 90s with sun all day, a welcome change after the weeks of cold and wet. I had thought that only by going as far as Mèze, or Sète, about two to three hours away, could I find a decent beach. Checking photos of Narbonne Plage on the Internet though, it looked as though it might be a reasonable alternative reachable in half the time.
Armed with a picnic lunch, folding chairs, lots of sunblock and a change of clothes, Matthew and I set off, with Beau riding on Matthew's lap. From Olonzac we turned onto the road towards Lezignan-Corbières, then Narbonne. Shortly after exiting the town we reached the coast, which is set off against the sky by Le Massif du Clape, a succession of high rocky plateaus separated by narrow ravines extending almost 60 miles and dominated by garrigue, the lowland scrub of the Mediterranean. Again, I was reminded of how much the Aude resembles parts of the Ojai Valley of California, with its winding, two-lane roads and olive groves.
Cresting over a hill, the Narbonne Plage beach came into view: it was flat, broad and bordered by small residential developments built in yellow materials: a place families and retirees go. On a brilliant day like today, the sun gave everything a golden look. Not that it was deceptive: the town of Narbonne Plage is immaculately kept. There is a two-lane bicycle path along the length of the beach, and a pedestrian path as well.
Today was market day, so every sort of vendor was out hawking their wares. Not just bakers and cheese makers and olives sellers, but vendors of cheap beachwear, amazing mops, toiletries, sunglasses and Sudoku. The pedestrian path thronged with people there just for the market, which began early in the morning and ended by noon.
The beach was broad and immaculate, with master swimmers serving as lifeguards. Toilets though, were few and far between, although they were free. I found one a good ways away from where we camped, but once the person before me exited there was a twenty minute wait while the area was thoroughly cleansed. I walked to the next one (another considerable distance) and found the same situation. Finally, I begged the owner of a fast food place on the beach to let me use theirs, which he thankfully did. By the way, the Narbonne Plage public toilets are closed from 1:30 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. (I don't know why.)
The water was too cold to stay in long, but the waves were minimal and invited several plunges. Beau, covered with sand from digging all around our chairs, went for his first sea bath and swam, although I think he preferred dry land. A beach policeman on patrol stopped and told us that Narbonne Plage did not allow dogs. -Which was curious, because the Internet had said the opposite. However, the policeman said, there was another beach, about an hour from Narbonne Plage, where dogs were free to go. As we had already spent about two hours in the sun at that point, we picked up and left the beach, heading for the open showers at an entrance and exit to the shore before seeking out the new beach. There was a sign posted against the apparatus, and I was once again reminded of the particularity of France: Use of soap prohibited, it said.
We drove beyond the town limits of Narbonne Plage in the opposite direction from St. Pierre sur Mer at the other end and found ourselves circling around a more undeveloped beach area opposite a camping area, Camping d'Oc. It was Côtes des Roses, the beach area to which the policeman had directed us. Something like Fire Island, it was encircled by scrub with another part of Le Massif du Clape behind us. Unlike Narbonne Plage, there was no residential area nearby, just stands to rent windsurfers and sail carts. As we walked towards the water, we watched a young man turning a traction kite this way and that. The wind was strong enough that he kept both hands tightly on the board as he attempted to steer it. There were few people on the beach, and most of them were young and slender and either alone or in pairs. The sign at Section 6 of Côte de Roses reminds readers that Section 7 has no lifeguard and that anyone swimming there does so at their own risk. Indeed, a few weeks ago, someone disappeared off the coast of Narbonne Plage, so swimming in the Mediterranean is not without its risks, although Côtes des Roses seems to attract those who want to get away from the crowds at Narbonne Plage.
Is it possible that summer, with all its heat and light, has finally arrived? The luxury of leaving the countryside for the beach with Beau again in the next few weeks beckons. Half the pleasure of going to the beach on a sun-lit day is the knowledge that each year, the number of days it is possible is limited. The other half is feeling the sun seep into my bones, and feeling as if I were at a spa.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll have more than one trip to Narbonne Plage this summer.
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