I would bump into a woman from Rheims, now living in New Caledonia, who felt Nice was trop touristique. She would be shocked with Cannes. Compared to this, Nice was a charming little town.

Helpful guides

Collins Road Atlas Europe 2003. A revised edition of the indispensable atlas that Lucire used to navigate in the latest European Volante instalments. Not perfect given ever-changing roads throughout an entire continent—and we found some tiny route errors between publication and our visit, but as darned close as cartographers can make it. Currently £7·99 (save £2) at Amazon.co.uk. Our rating: 9/10.

continued

   I was right. After venturing higher, I saw two signs that pointed in opposite directions back to L'Escarène. Since it wasn't ski season yet, there was not much point going further northward. I decided on the shorter, but far more difficult, 16 km route back with a more challenging road. So did a motorcyclist who followed me and I quickly allowed to overtake on this road barely the width of a car. But it was a good chance to test the Astra DTI’s limits, which I quickly found—and after 4 km bored of them. I knew I'd enjoy being a rally driver but there was the risk of cars coming the other way. This wasn't really the Rallye Monte-Carlo and I wasn’t Carlos Sainz. And there would be 12 km to come—during which I would have to stop four times as cars did come the other way negotiated around me and I around them. God only knows how we managed to back into corners where the road was a wee bit wider. At least folks knew I wasn't from around here, with my 94-region plates, and quickly volunteered to back up and let the guy from up north through.
   I longed for the route D2204, known for being narrow, but at least it was on my Collins Road Atlas. I did hit L'Escarène again, stopped briefly for a drink, but felt I had to make Cannes next. L'Escarène was a little too tranquil and quaint since I needed to make contact with the HQ and the next base would be a temporary office for me. But Cannes would go too far toward the other extreme.
   After the fun of the Corniches near Monaco, the drive over to Cannes is relatively dreary. Nor does the experience get particularly more French: holidaymakers crowd the streets and freeways. Months later, I would bump into a woman from Rheims, now living in New Caledonia, who felt Nice was trop touristique. She would be shocked with what I found in Cannes. Compared to this, Nice was a charming little town. There is an acceptable level of “cosmopolitan”—like San Francisco—but this was some odd mixture, with too much ornamentation along the coast to be classy, too many concessions to be pure to its soul.
   Following the traffic down toward the famous waterfront, which is the obligatory façade of the film festival shows, I found the city far too crowded. The dress indicated a lot of out-of-towners; I envisaged sitting down and not noting a heck of a lot of difference between Cannes and Los Angeles. Parking would prove equally difficult. My budget would quite capably extend to the famous Carlton Inter-continental, as I discovered, but would there be a point in experiencing sanitized Riviera after the fun I had had on what I was now terming my Persuaders tour?
   After returning to the car, I headed westward, wanting to find some opportunity to rest in Cannes. I did find a stretch of beach which the tourists had vacated but les français still happily relaxed on and changed in the car. I would still catch some sunlight, working on a tan that could only be detected by a medium, before attempting to find a more permanent stop for the evening.
   As the sun slipped nearer the Mediterranean Sea’s distant horizon, I returned to the Opel and began going still further westward. I stayed on the coast road, refusing to venture back to the autoroute. A family pulled over as it realized I would overtake and I took the opportunity to drive at the legal maximum on the Riviera’s only moderately windy road—the hilltop rally route a memory now—toward the next notable town on the map, St Raphaël.

continued: the real Riviera, and southern hospitality

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