We’re inching our way up the Côte d’Opale, bound for Merlimont. I’ve learnt that the term ‘Opal Coast’ was coined by the painter and author Édouard Lévêque in 1911 to describe the iridescent opal like light where the sea meets the sky along this section of coastline. He may well have been a poet at heart.
In an extended streak of perfect autumn weather we’ve unexpectedly struck a rainy day. Merlimont appears to have caught the grey mood. It’s deserted – summer crowds long gone, seaside apartments shuttered. The beach is lovely though, wide and sandy with walking trails though the dunes. Too soggy to attempt today though. We’re lucky to have seen it at all – the heavens open as soon as we’re home drawing a firm line under further explorations.
All thoughts of rain are banished the following day though. A short hop down the coast, Le Touquet is buzzing under blue skies. A northern coast holiday hotspot, a mere 260 km north of Paris, Le Touquet is bursting with boutiques, jewellery shops, restaurants, gorgeous Belle Epoque houses and a surprising number of private casinos. Those preferring nature to shopping (and exactly why one can’t have both is a complete mystery to me, but I might just be greedy) can enjoy endless forest and sand dune trails or sailing in the lagoon.
As always, exploring must wait until Himself is fed. We settle beachside for what proves an excellent meal. He gambles on a burger, pronouncing it cooked and tasty. Happy, at last, although he still speaks wistfully about that Honfleur burger!
I risk new territory and try the razor clams. Oh my! Pan fried in a spectacular amount of garlic and butter, they’re in a word, magnificent. Another ingredient I’ll have to source once I’m home.
Post lunch we wander. Le Touquet’s Belle Epoque architecture is lovely: every turn offers a pretty new suprise.
I do an excellent job staying out of the tempting boutiques and jewellery stores. It helps knowing I have to pack the motorhome up within the airline luggage allowances. Although, now that I think on it, jewellery takes up no space at all.* (*Note to Himself, in case he’s reading…)
We find the Art Deco covered market, sadly not open today but it’s still interesting to wander through and see the tiled vendor stalls.
Development is flourishing along the seafront – sadly only a few period buildings remain, uncomfortably sandwiched between high rise apartments.
I find an elegant hotel at the edge of town. It’s evocative of a bygone era when cocktails and dressing for dinner were de rigueur.
Himself eventually tires of wandering and takes off home while I explore the dune trails. The forest trails are very tempting, but there’s only so much once can achieve late in the day. I do make friends with a pretty dragonfly enroute though.
We’re staying near the lagoon – it offers a sailing and windsurfing haven, well away from ocean waves.
The lookout offers a clear view across the dunes, across the sea and into the lagoon. I can’t quite make out a series of dark dots at the tip of the sandbank, but this area is known for seals – I’m pretty sure those dots are seals at rest. Definitely needs investigation.
It’s a barefoot hike down the dune** over a spiky shell strewn beach, but utterly worth it. I’m rewarded with small colony of glossy seals busy at their pilates. How lucky am I? I race back to collect Himself – good seals absolutely need to be shared. It’s a perfect ending to the day.
(**if you attempt this, stick to the marked path – the area is known for quicksand.)
What an utter delight Le Touquet has turned out to be. If we had more time it would be very easy to enjoy a week or two here. As it is, I’m very conscious of October’s inevitable arrival. Our time in France will soon end, as will our time with the motorhome. Come October, there’s no denying the task that lies ahead.
