We’d been told she was to be found in a small crypt to the right of the altar in the 9th century Eglise de Notre-Dame-de-la-Mer, accessible via a back door. But when we went around the back of the church and paid a small fee, it led us to a narrow staircase which wound its way to the top of the building and we emerged into blinding sunlight, high above the streets of the town.

Despite having conquered my vertigo many years earlier on a trip to Sigiriya in Sri Lanka, my hands were tingling as I stepped up from the crenellated walkway that circumnavigated the roof and onto the steep, stone tiles that rose to an apex behind the bell tower. When I reached the central ridge, I perched on the stone sill and finally allowed myself the luxury of lifting my eyes to the horizon.

Directly below me, the narrow streets of the town buzzed with morning shoppers and lunch time diners, garlic-infused warm air rising from cooking pots on market stalls. Red tiled roofs spread out from my vantage point like a captive congregation waiting for the sermon to begin, hemmed in on all sides by the Rhône estuary. Beyond the stone penitents the salt flats of the Camargue shimmered in the heat haze, their scorched grasslands speckled with the blue trails of watery inlets. With no other tall buildings to interrupt, I could see for miles and miles while a gentle breeze broke the summer’s stranglehold and fanned my brow like a faithful punkawallah.

We never did find Sara.

Andrea (Andy) Montgomery is a freelance travel writer and co-owner of Buzz Trips and The Real Tenerife series of travel websites. Published in The Telegraph, The Independent, Wexas Traveller, Thomas Cook Travel Magazine, EasyJet Traveller Magazine, you can read her latest content on Google+

That’s the picture that was etched into a boy’s overactive imagination by Alistair MacLean and a dodgy novel called Caravan to Vaccares.

I knew it was all nonsense, but the notion Camargue was a mysterious and slightly dangerous place lingered. It’s the same with Marseilles.

The wonderful thing was the reality didn’t disappoint – there is mystery, there is beauty, there are gypsies and white horses. The food is good enough to attract gastronomes, untrustworthy or otherwise.
And I was actually chased (well walked at a brisk canter) across the wetlands. Not by bulls or horsemen but by mosquitoes with razor bites that could penetrate two layers of clothes.

Plus there is the most deliciously vibrant light. Maybe we were just lucky, but the light made colours zing to the point they seemed almost over saturated.

There is no real purpose to these ramblings other than as an excuse to post photographs of a part of France which had occupied a part of my imagination for decades.

The Birds

One of the first things that registers is there’s an awful lot of birds. Plain ones, odd looking ones, elegant ones, long-legged and short-legged. The second thing that registers is that a lot of birds with long beaks means there’s a lot of fish. That means good food for them, good food for us.

Moules Frites

A pot of mussels accompanied by crusty bread, a plate of chips, a nod at a salad and a generous glass of  crisp white vin in Saintes Maries de la Mer. Simple, quite cheap and a perfect Camargue lunch. A place where time disappears as easily as the wine down your throat.

Empty Beaches

Despite it being a hot September day the soft sand was nearly devoid of people. A tempting prospect but no swimwear and a tight schedule threw up a force field around it.

On the Church Roof

This is one of my all time favourite images from our travels. There is something quite bizarre about casually sitting on a church roof. A good place to hide from villains. Very Alistair MacLean.

The Market

I sometimes feel there’s a bit of an emperor’s new clothes thing going on with French cuisine in general, as if there’s a law which means folk have to exclaim how wonderful it is even when it’s mediocre (same thing happens with Marrakech). But the markets, oh the markets. They have me on my knees worshipping them.

Blasé about Egrets #1

Common as pigeons in Trafalgar Square. The first sighting is ‘Wow, look… an egret.’ Five minutes after entering the wet marshlands and they hardly warrant a second glance.

Blasé about Egrets #2

Unless one looks like an angel descending to earth.

Flat and Wet

Flat lands usually don’t do it for me – too characterless a landscape. The Camargue was different. There was something about this expanse of land that captured the gaze and sent it into a dreamy trance.

Because there has to be a Flamingo

No bulls, no gypsies, no white horses (they are in another post) but there has to be a flamingo. Flocks of these oddly beautiful birds add an exotic element to a land that is ripe for inclusion in a juicy novel about murder and mystery set in a imagination inflaming location. Caravan to Camargue has a nice ring to it.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Walking through the gates to the courtyard from the car park and capturing first sight of this elegant French estate is a bit of a wow moment. It is quintessential Provence with a quirky mix of classical French château style combined with a contemporary casual air illustrated by wicker sofas with plump cushions, deckchairs and arty touches such as the modern iron sculptures dotted around the grounds.

Our View
Domaine des Clos is located back from the road halfway between Beaucaire and Bellegarde (Beaucaire and adjoining  Tarascon are best for restaurants). Originally an 18th century Provençal farmhouse, it is the product of a labour of love for owners David and Sandrine Ausset who spent years restoring it to its current immaculate state.
There are loads of cosy, inviting little nooks and crannies set with tables and chairs to enjoy long, leisurely lunches or decadent dinners with local cheeses and a bottle of vin from nearby Mourgues de Grès. Pride of place is the one in the centre of the lawn in the shade of the old tree which is pure ‘A Memory of Avignon’. It’s all beautiful, elegant and very, very French.
What we particularly liked about it (apart from the fact it looks like a dream vision of a French farmhouse) was that Domaine des Clos pulled off feeling like a home, a rural hotel and the most idyllic self catering accommodation all in the one exquisite package.

Rooms
Rooms and apartments are either in the old farmhouse or in the former stables. The rooms and apartments in the farmhouse, where we stayed, are more classically rustic French – rich colours, thick drapes, open stone staircases, polished wooden floors and terracotta tiles. Those in the stable, although they still exude that French country vibe, are more contemporary in design with modern furnishings. They also feel roomier thanks to an open plan design.

In the farmhouse we had access to a well equipped little kitchen (useful for cooling wine and keeping cheese from melting) and a colourful dining room with Moorish touches – vibrant tiles, stained glass windows, ceramic tagines.
Wifi is available everywhere in theory, but accessing it was quite complicated and the signal, when we managed, was intermittent.

Facilities
The dining room (and artistic lounge) is in the lower floor of the old stables. It’s easy to find as the smell of fresh coffee directs your nose to its location on the first morning. The food is as fresh as the décor; crusty breads are delivered daily and you know the orange juice is squeezed straight from the fruit as you make it yourself.

There are a selection of quality cold meats, local cheese, fruit, yoghurt, cereals and croissants; however, the tastiest part of breakfast were the creative pots of jam made by Sandrine. These are as imaginative a display of jams as you’ll find anywhere. I spent days testing them without duplicating flavours. A must is the courgette with lemon and mint. Initially unusual, but the flavour soon grows on you.

David often joins guests for breakfast which is a nice touch as well as providing a good opportunity to take advantage of his wealth of local knowledge. Dinner is also available at Domaine des Clos, but only at certain times of the year. It wasn’t available when we stayed in September.
The reception adjoins the dining room, doubling as a shop selling local wines and Domaine des Clos’ own olive oil as well as Sandrine’s sublime jams at €4 a jar.

The gardens are as perfect as everything else and ideal for wandering around with a glass of wine in hand. Olive trees, vines and a peach orchard keep up the Provence farm look, an avenue of cypress trees lends a classic château touch whilst palm trees, pomegranates and oleanders bring a tropical flavour to the area around the swimming pool.

What you get with Domaine des Clos is beautiful looking and comfortable French boutique  accommodation that seamlessly blends contemporary style with the historic heritage of a former vineyard.

Domaine des Clos; 911 chemin du mas de la Tour, Beaucaire; tel: +33 466 01 14 61; double rooms from around €115 per night with breakfast included.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

 Capital of the Camargue region of southern France the town sits on the Mediterranean coast, entirely surrounded by water, bordered by 50 kilometres of pristine beaches and backed by the rice fields, marshes and reed beds of the Camargue National Park. Unfettered by concrete towers and reflected in the myriad bodies of water that fill the endless space, the sunlight spills over the town with a startling intensity, burning the retinas with the bright white of the egrets’ wings and the burnished rose of flamingo feathers.

Scents of the gastronomic specialities of the region assail visitors from every side as you stroll through narrow streets lined with whitewashed shops, beneath the constant gaze of the Romanesque steeple of L’Eglise de Saintes Maries. Bubbling pots of Rouille de Pêchear (fish stew); fragrant bowls of clams, beefy Gardiane de Taureau (bull’s beef and red wine stew) and garlic infused mussels gnaw at hunger, aided and abetted by the sugary sweet scent of nougat and of sticky Tuiles pastries. At the tables of pavement restaurants visitors work their way slowly through silver, three-tiered platters filled beyond capacity with oysters on ice; whole lobsters, succulent king prawns, mussels and crab while trickles of condensation run down the sides of their glasses of perfectly chilled Côtes de Provence. This is not the town in which to spend your ‘5:2 fast’ days.

Were they to roam the green pastures of neighbouring Provence, the black bulls of the Camargue would be as incongruous as Highland Cows in the Sahara but here, amidst the stark beauty of the wetlands, they blur the border between Spain and southern France and provide an enduring symbol of the region. Smaller than their Spanish equivalent and with horns shaped like a lyre, the bulls of the Camargue have never become domesticated. Roaming the plains in manades, herded by Guardians (cowboys) and bred for their meat, they feature extensively in the culture and traditions of the town where bull runs are a common occurrence.

Less bloodthirsty but no less daring than its Spanish equivalent, in the Camargue version of the battle between man and beast the bulls have ribbons affixed to their horns which the raseteurs have to remove, preferably without being impaled. The bulls are never killed during a run and many of them will participate in a number of competitions during the course of their lives. For the Guardians, breeding a ferocious and agile bull whose name is remembered long after the beast has died is every young cowboy’s dream.

Indispensable to the Guardians, the white horses of the Camargue are used to herd the bulls; as work animals on the ranches and increasingly, to provide pleasure rides for the thousands of visitors who annually visit the region. During the Roussataio, herds of brood mares are driven through the streets as a reminder of what used to be a not-uncommon sight as the mares were passed from village to village during harvest to thresh the corn.

But it’s not just the white horses, black bulls and extraordinary landscape of Saintes Maries de la Mer that make it so special, it’s the heady mix of French rural tradition and Spanish passion that really set it apart from anywhere else in Europe. And it’s the gypsy spirit that’s responsible.

Legend tells of a boat that washed up on the shores of Saintes Maries de la Mer shortly after the crucifixion of Christ. The boat contained Mary Magdalen, Mary Jacobe and Mary Salome, the three Marys after whom the town is named, along with their Egyptian handmaiden, Sara. Close disciples of Christ, the boat’s occupants were hounded and arrested following his death, then placed in a small skiff without oars and set adrift on the Med. When the boat safely reached land, Lazarus, Martha and Mary Magdalen continued on their journeys to teach the scriptures; Martha to Tarascon, Mary Magdalen and Lazarus to Marseilles. The other two Marys and Sara remained in Saintes Maries.

Never recognised by the church, Sara is said to have dedicated her life to protecting the children of the French gypsies, or Gitans, from persecution as a result of which she was adopted by the Gitan as their Patron Saint. Since the 12th century, during the Gitan Pilgrimage in conjunction with the Patron Saints’ Day of the three Marys on 25th May, tens of thousands of Gitan, Romany, Manouche and Tzigane Gypsies descend upon the town to carry the statue of Sara down to the sea on their shoulders the day before the Saints arrived so that she can wait to welcome their arrival to the shores of Saintes Maries.

An important festival in the Gypsy calendar, it’s an opportunity for friends and relatives from across Europe to get in touch again, to have their children baptised in the church and to party. Many of the Gitan have Catalan and Andalucian roots and the celebrations feature flamenco dancing, guitar playing and the presence of bodegas in the streets late into the night. It was around one of the campfires during the Gitan Pilgrimage celebrations that The Gypsy Kings were born, the Reyes and the Baliardo brothers playing together as teenagers while they celebrated their Gitano roots. And it was in May 1975 that Bob Dylan spent his 30th birthday at the festival and was inspired to write One More Cup of Coffee. With his acclaimed album ‘Blood on the Tracks’ released just four months earlier and his marriage to Sarah Lowndes on the rocks, whether the songwriter had a brief affair with one of the Gitans he encountered is unclear. But what is certain is that Dylan felt the gypsy spirit of Saintes Maries de la Mer.

Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie
But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above
Bob Dylan – One More Cup of Coffee, 1975

The statue of Sara is housed in L’Eglise de Saintes Maries and access is via a door at the back of the church. Also accessible (although a minimal charge is made) is the church roof from which you get extensive views over the town, the Camargue and neighbouring Provence.

Andrea (Andy) Montgomery is a freelance travel writer and co-owner of Buzz Trips and The Real Tenerife series of travel websites. Published in The Telegraph, The Independent, Wexas Traveller, Thomas Cook Travel Magazine, EasyJet Traveller Magazine, you can read her latest content on Google+

It conjures up visions of sitting around waiting for a spotty-legged something or other to poke his beak around a bush for a millisecond before he disappears again.

However, in Saintes Maries de la Mer in the Camargue, ask anyone for suggestions about what to do in this intriguing area of France and the chances are they’ll reply ‘visit the Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau’.

The last time I went ‘bird-watching’ it turned out the ‘birds’ in question were ravenous vultures tearing great chunks out of carrion. Subsequently I know that ‘bird-watching’ can mean all sorts of things. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for just how much I’d be wowed by the Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau.

Where is Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau?
Lying about 4 kilometres outside of Saintes Maries de la Mer on the Arles road, the entrance to the park is humble to the point of being easy to miss. There is a parking area but it looks more like a big lay-by.
It’s one of the things we liked about Pont de Gau; it’s not fussy. Just a couple of buildings set up around 60 hectares of finest Camargue marshlands.

There are a couple of conventional bird cages near the entrance that aren’t really necessary. But after that it’s you, the Camargue and the wildlife. The birds are free to come and go as they please.

First surge of excitement came at the park’s little café overlooking a small lake. The resident egrets put on a show of preening themselves whilst a snooty heron stood stoically at their side, pretending to have nothing to do with the fussing white birds.

From the café, a network of paths meander through the marshlands. This is one of the strengths of the park; you don’t feel as though you’re in a bird park. It feels more like you’re following a trail through the Camargue that just happens to guarantee encounters with lots of the local feathered and furry residents.

There are two routes through the park. The first covers 2.6 kilometres whilst the longer route is 4.3 kilometres. Within minutes of strolling between pools and lakes, peering through reeds to try establish the source of exotically strange bird calls, we’d already decided we were doing the full 7 kilometres.

The Birds and Animals of Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau
Info boards at the entrance give an idea of the birds and animals that you’re likely to spot. But, apart from the serious birdwatchers, most people are really there to see one particular specimen – the flamingos. There are flocks galore of these odd looking but beautiful creations with their snaky necks, curved beaks and long spindly legs. You wouldn’t think a creature could look both elegant and awkward at the same time, yet the flamingo manages it.

The paths take you much closer to the birds than we had expected; a real dream for photography. You don’t even need a zoom lens to capture detailed ‘up close’ shots of the big pink birds.

It was a real thrill to see so many of them in the one place and at such close quarters. I felt a bit sorry for the other birds. Water fowl, mallard ducks, egrets and even storks were pretty much ignored as most people clambered to get just one more ‘flamingo in flight’ shot.

But it’s not all about flamingos.

As we crossed over the bridge linking the two routes, Andy pointed to a dark blob heading ‘up river’ with purpose.

“It’s a beaver.”

That sighting was nearly as exciting as our first glimpse of the flamingos. It was almost immediately followed by the arrival of two of the famous Camargue white horses, one of whom was giving a lift to an egret.

Many visitors seem to stick to the shorter route around the park, subsequently the longer route is generally crowd free and has more of a wilder character to it. There are lots of hides overlooking the marshlands and the bird-life is more varied. It’s also coypu country; we saw plenty as we followed the paths around the lakes and water channels (the narrower channels especially are favourites with coypus and beavers).

There are also insects; the neon coloured dragonflies add a bit of glamour whereas the mosquitoes there will drink you dry. A board at the entrance warns about the appetite of the Camargue’s mossies and it doesn’t exaggerate, a few sunk their teeth into my back through a thick t-shirt, so splash on plenty of repellent before venturing in.

Vampire insects aside, Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau was a completely enchanting experience and I lost count of the number of times one of us commented ‘how good is this’.

In a way Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau is a bird park for people who aren’t bird watchers. It’s really a taster of the world of the Camargue in one nicely put together and natural little package.

Parc Ornithologique Pont de Gau is open from 9am to sunset between 1 April and 30 September, 10am to sunset between 1 October and 31 March; entrance is €7.50 for adults and €4 for children aged between 4 and 10.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to lots of other places. Follow Jack on Google+