My Holiday in France – Naturist Beaches from Saint-Tropez to Spain
My holiday in France started about twenty years ago. I set off from London with a rucksack on my back and took the train over to Paris.
What I did not realise at the time was that once I got to Paris, there was still another forty-five minutes navigating the underground before I could catch the train down to the south of France. It felt like the journey kept stretching out further than expected.
Eventually I arrived in Nice, where I had a hire car waiting for me. From there, I drove straight to Saint-Tropez to start the trip properly.
Saint-Tropez
The beach there was very good, exactly what you would expect from that part of the coast. The whole area around Saint-Tropez was very nice, but also very expensive.
I stayed in a lovely hotel, but again it was not cheap. That part of the coast has a certain feel to it — polished, busy, and well known.
It was a good place to begin, but I knew I wanted to see more than just that one stretch.
Heading along the coast
The plan was to travel roughly a thousand kilometres along the south of France, heading towards Spain. I took my time, stopping along the way and trying a few different naturist beaches.
Each place had its own atmosphere. Some were quieter, some more open, but all of them had that same underlying simplicity to them.
Cap d’Agde
Eventually I reached Cap d’Agde, which is well known as a naturist village.
It is quite an experience when you first arrive. There are thousands of people there in the summer — I was told it can be around 30,000 at a time.
I stayed there for about three days. It is a place with a lot going on, far more than the quieter beaches along the coast. Very different in scale, but interesting to see.
Further towards Spain
After that, I continued driving further down the coast towards Spain. Along the way, I stopped at a beach near Leucate.
That one stood out. It had a lovely, open feel to it and a very natural setting. I was told that Salvador Dalí and other artists used to spend time around that area, which made sense when you saw the place for yourself.
There was something about it that felt quieter and more reflective than some of the other spots.
Dalí’s museum
From there, I decided to cross into Spain and visit Dalí’s museum in Figueres.
It is quite an unusual place. Small rooms, narrow corridors, and his work displayed in a way that feels almost like you are moving through his thoughts rather than just looking at paintings on walls.
It was different from anything else on the trip, but it fitted in well with everything I had seen along the coast.
The journey back
On the way back, I returned to Cap d’Agde and stayed there for another three days. It felt familiar the second time, easier to settle into.
For my last night, I stayed at a small bed and breakfast near Narbonne in the south of France.
I had originally planned to go to Perpignan to drop the car off, but at the time there was a lot of trouble in the area, with a heavy police presence. I was told there were hundreds of armed police dealing with a situation there.
So instead, I changed plans slightly, returned the car near Narbonne, and made my way back by train.
Looking back
When I think about that trip now, what stands out is not any one place, but the variety of experiences along the way.
From the busy feel of Saint-Tropez, to the scale of Cap d’Agde, to the quieter beaches further down the coast, and then across into Spain to see Dalí’s work — it all connected in a way that felt natural at the time.
It was a straightforward journey in one sense, but it didn’t feel like that at the time. Things changed along the way, plans shifted slightly, and each place had its own feel to it.
That is often how these things work. You do not realise at the time what will stay with you, but certain moments and places remain clear long after.