Offshore from Agay
Boulouris is a sort of unlovely but picturesque suburb of St. Raphaël, and from its farther boundary one is in full view of the “Sémaphore d’Agay,” perched high on a promontory a hundred and forty metres above the sea. The Sémaphore is an ugly but utilitarian thing, and the wireless telegraph has not as yet supplanted its functions in France.
From the same spot one sees the Tour du Dramont, a one-time refuge of Jeanne de Provence during a revolution among her subjects.
In following the road one does not come to a town or indeed a settlement of any notable size until he reaches Agay, on the other side of the promontory. The town lies at the mouth of a tiny river bearing the same name. It makes some pretence at being a resort, but it is still a diminutive one, and, accordingly, all the more attractive to the world-wearied traveller.
Three routes lead from Agay, one to Cannes by Les Trois Termes (twenty-nine kilometres), another by the Col de Belle Barbe, and another directly by the “Corniche.”
Near the Col de Belle Barbe is the Oratoire de St. Honorat and the Grotte de Ste. Baume. The latter is a place of pilgrimage for the devout of the region, and for those from farther abroad, but most of the time it is a mere rendezvous for curious sightseers.
The roadway continues rising and falling through the pines until it crosses the Col Lévêque (169 metres), when, rounding the Pic d’Aurele, it comes again to sea-level at Le Trayas.
From Agay the “Corniche” runs also by Le Trayas, and to roll over its smoothly made surface in a swift-moving automobile is the very poetry of motion, or as near thereto as we are likely to get until we adopt the flying-machine for regular travel. It is an experience that no one should miss, even if he has to hire a seat on the automobile omnibus which frequently runs between St. Raphaël and La Napoule and Cannes.
It is twenty kilometres from Agay to La Napoule, and is a good afternoon’s journey by carriage, or even on donkey-back. Better yet, one should walk, if he feels equal to it, and has the time at his disposal.
En route one passes Anthéore, which may best be described as a colony of artistic and literary people who have settled here for the quiet and change from the bustle of the modern life of the towns. This was the case at least when the settlement was founded, and the poet Brieux built himself a house and put up over the gateway the significant words: “Je suis venu ici pour être seul.” Whether he was able to carry out this wish is best judged by the fact that since that time many outsiders have gained a foothold, and the Grand Hôtel de la Corniche d’Or has come to break the solitude with balls and bridge and all the distractions of the more celebrated Riviera towns and cities.