Roam the Wild South with Cowboys and Flamingos

A flock of gorgeous flamingos feeds on plankton in a reed-filled marsh. Their lithe bodies are reflected in the water, and clouds the same color as their feathers, glowing red from the setting sun. Suddenly, my guide asks me to pick up my binoculars: black silhouettes of cows are moving through the marsh like hippos in the Serengeti. I have never seen cows so graceful in the water. This water ballet perfectly sums up the Camargue.

Located on Western Europe’s largest delta, the Camargue is a rural region of France where the Rhône meets the Mediterranean and there’s more water than land and more cattle than people. Thousands of birds migrate to the nutrient-rich terrain. It’s a mosaic of color: verdant farmland, blue lagoons, sandy beaches and white salt domes that emerge from marshes stained pink by tiny shrimp. “The landscape changes every day,” said my guide, Jean-Yves Boulithe, 56. Yet the culture of the Camargue, of fishermen and mustachioed cowboys known as guards, gives the impression that time stopped at the turn of the 20th century — and so do the limited Wi-Fi and cellphone service.

The Camargue is best enjoyed slow, and I kept that in mind last April when I rented a car in Marseille for a grand tour of the region. The Camargue stretches along the coastline about halfway between Marseille and Montpellier, south of the tourist hub of Arles. I had been warned that the fierce Mistral winds and mosquitoes would keep less robust travelers away. I remembered to bring shoes that could get dirty, as many places can only be reached on foot, on horseback or by bike.

A land infested with salt and mosquitoes

Near Arles, the Rhône River splits into two branches, the Little River and the Great River, and the approximately 300-square-mile Camargue Island is located in this branch. In 600 BC, Phocaean merchants and farmers arrived from Marseilles in the Rhône River, and the annual flooding of the Rhône River threatened the island. In 1869, Napoleon III built a system of seawalls and canals to control the floods, but it changed the landscape here.

Then, in the 20th century, another transformation took place: the Camargue became famous in movies, becoming the “unfettered Far South” of the French Westerns.

The region’s wild terrain may seem untouched, but human intervention has transformed it. Or as the permanent exhibition at the Camargue Museum (7 euros, or $7.65) east of the village of Albaron says, today’s Camargue is the result of generations of “constant struggles with floods and salinity.” Otherwise, the land would be flooded or dry up into a salt desert.

Every element of the Camargue ecosystem is interconnected: Tiny purple wedge clams, or Tellina clams, thrive in just the right mix of salt and fresh water. Salt marshes, where seawater becomes the region’s precious salt, rely on the dry climate for evaporation. Horses and bulls act as four-legged lawn mowers. Even mosquitoes are important, as they are a source of food for birds. Insects swarm in the summer, and so do tourists – 75% of whom are French. Spring and autumn are the best times to visit.

The Birthplace of a Bird Lover

More than 400 bird species congregate in the Camargue, the largest migratory corridor between Europe and Africa. To see some birds in the wild, I booked a night at the Mas de l’Ange du Vaccarès, which advertised a sunset birding tour on its website, with owner Boulithe as my guide.

His vast knowledge has made me a bird lover. Each bird species, he says, has its own personality. A spoonbill scoops up small fish with its eponymous beak, and the chirping of a black-winged stilt matches its lovely pace. Instead of a chic 17th-century farmhouse room, I opt for a lagoon-side cottage (from €200 per night, including breakfast) with a large window for bird-watching from bed. The birds chirp and the colorful sunrise make it hard to fall asleep.

After a hearty breakfast, I drove southwest to the Gaoqiao Bird Park (about 9 euros, including binoculars) to continue indulging my new obsession with birds. The 150-acre park invites birdwatchers to stroll through wooden walkways and reed-filled marshes, perhaps spotting a glossy ibis showing off its iridescent plumage or a heron, which, as one of the park’s information panels explains, is a sign of a healthy environment.

Suitable for consumption

A 43-mile-long dyke, called the Digue de la Mer, protects the area from the sea on the south side of Camargue Island. Starting from Sainte-Marie-de-la-Mer, the largest town in the Camargue, the 2-hour, 15-minute round trip by e-bike (about 30 euros for a half-day) along the dyke to the Gacholle lighthouse is a smooth, sometimes bumpy ride. On the narrow sandy road, I felt like Moses, separating the salty sea from the brackish lagoon.

On the Petit Rhône, a 126-passenger Le Camargue boat (16 euros) offers glimpses of black Camargue bulls drinking at the water’s edge and egrets diving for fish. The captain points out Za la Cabane du Pêcheur, a local restaurant known for its fresh fish and eccentric owner, Daniel Zarate, 66, known as Za. Never one to turn down a local’s recommendation, I return later for lunch of chargrilled snapper, fingernail-sized purple fish fillets and octopus drenched in a garlic sauce that Zarate warns is “not for kissing.”

Boat trips leave from Sainte-Marie-de-la-Mer, which is crowded with tourists during the summer high season and the religious pilgrimage in late May. Saint Sarah, also known as the Black Madonna, is the object of veneration for the Camargue Romans, who travel in cozy caravans known as roulottes. When I stayed in a roulotte at the nearby Mas de la Fouque (€260-€380 per night, including breakfast), it felt like sleeping on a wooden boat. The four-star hotel offers gourmet food and live music on Saturday nights.

Just down the road, the new, fairytale-like cottages at Les Bains Gardians (from €300 a night) transform traditional cowboy dwellings into stylish retreats with thatched roofs.

The rosé renaissance

Vines covered the Camargue before World War II, when rising salinity began to degrade the quality of the region’s wines. New winemakers are using improved techniques to reverse this unfavorable reputation. The next morning, eager to taste the wines myself, I continued west to Aiguesmores, the charming, medieval walled capital of the Sable de Camargue appellation. At Terres de Sable, I sampled a bright, saline-gray rosé that made the most of the sandy terroir.

The Salins d’Aigues-Mortes salt marsh, on the western edge of the Camargue, is the largest in the Mediterranean, almost the size of Paris. You can explore the salt marsh on your own or with a guide, on foot or by bike, or even take a little train (9 to 34 euros) to pick the precious salt flowers yourself. My guide, 25-year-old Naomie Aurel, explained that the salt marsh takes on its most beautiful pink color between June and September, a hue caused by tiny shrimps that feed on algae rich in beta-carotene. When the flamingos eat the shrimp, Aurel explained, they “color their feathers like makeup.”

Intrepid travelers can stay at the newly built Nuits Salines, a modern lodge in a remote part of the marsh that’s closed to other tourists (from €130). A hidden bonus: With a reservation, guests get off-hours access to the vast property, including its secluded beach.

Ride the unicorn white horse

Starring in the 1953 classic film Les Blanches (Les le pas d’une rouges in French), the ivory-colored Camaguas horses are sturdy enough to withstand the hot, windy climate. This unicorn-like white horse is essential for exploring the region’s vast spaces that can’t be reached by car.

I signed up for an intimate horseback riding session at Mas Saint Germain. “We want you to get to know your horse,” said Laure Vadon, 52, the fifth generation of her family to raise horses. That meant leading my horse from the field, brushing it before getting in the saddle, and feeding it oats as a reward for our ride (about 45 euros for two hours). With the wind keeping the mosquitoes away, we rode to Lac Vacares, a 25-square-mile lagoon so large that I mistook it for the sea.

Vintage Fashion and Rice Museum

As salinity rose in the mid-20th century, many of the Camargue’s vines were replaced by rice, which now produces most of France’s rice, including the red and black varieties favored by chefs. The rice fields help to desalinate the delta through a complex series of Rhône canals, which bring fresh water to the fields. “We need to keep an eye on the water so that the rice doesn’t dry up,” explains Marine Rozière, a fourth-generation rice farmer whose family also runs the small Maison du Riz museum (admission, €5).

Not far from the rice paddies, the curved stone walls of Les Cabanettes, where I spent my last night in the Camargue, are unlike any other hotel in the region. This 1960s modernist hotel (rooms from 135 euros per night, including breakfast) has little in common with cowboys, bulls, flamingos or salt pans.

Yet, this weirdness seems to make it even more fitting for this incredible land.

“I came to the Camargue and had no idea there was a place like this in France,” said Aaron Redlin, the hotel’s American partner. I couldn’t agree more. —The New York Times