The beaches in this list have one thing in common: you cannot drive to them, and most you cannot reach on foot without a long, deliberate walk. That is exactly why they are empty when the roadside beaches a few miles away are a wall of windbreaks. On the French Atlantic coast, between the Vendee and the Gironde, a boat unlocks a string of sand that the holiday crowds never see. Here is my ranking, biased firmly towards the ones that stay quiet.
A warning that runs through everything below: this is a big-tide coast. The Atlantic range here can swing several metres, so an anchorage that is idyllic at high water can leave you sitting on the sand or with a long wade ashore two hours later. Plan every beach landing around the height of tide, not just the time.
1. Plage des Saumonards, Oleron
The best of the lot, and the one I keep coming back to. Several kilometres of fine pale sand backed by a pine forest, on the sheltered north-east tip of Oleron, with Fort Boyard standing out in the channel for scenery. Because it sits inside the Pertuis d'Antioche the water is far calmer than Oleron's exposed western beaches, which makes it a genuine overnight anchorage in settled weather rather than just a lunch stop. There are no facilities at all, only sand and trees. The best time to come is between May and September, when the basin is settled and the water is warm enough to swim. Anchor off and dinghy in, mind your swinging room against the range, and read the Atlantic anchorages from La Rochelle to the Gironde for the wider picture. We have spent whole afternoons here with two other boats in sight and the forest path to ourselves.
2. The southern beaches of Ile d'Yeu
The Ile d'Yeu sits around 10 nautical miles off the Vendee coast, and its wild south-west shore is cut with small granite-framed sand coves that you would struggle to find from land. Anchor off in calm weather and you may have a beach to yourself within sight of nobody. The island is gentle on its north side and rugged here, so this is settled-weather territory. Port-Joinville, with its 600-odd berths, makes the base; the coves are the day trips.
3. Glenan archipelago beaches
Cheating a little, because the whole Glenan archipelago is reachable only by boat, but the beaches deserve their own entry. White sand sloping into water so clear and shallow it reads turquoise, especially around Saint-Nicolas, the one island you may land on freely. At low water the sandbanks between the islands grow enormous and you can step out almost onto your own private spit. The pilotage in is the price, covered in the Glenan archipelago anchorage guide.
4. Les Grands Sables, Belle-Ile
The only sizeable east-facing beach on Belle-Ile, a clean curve of sand sheltered from the prevailing westerlies, and a fine overnight anchorage when the wind is in the west. You can reach it on foot if you are staying on the island, but from a boat it is a five-minute dinghy ride to sand that empties at the end of the day. Belle-Ile keeps about nine anchorages going, so when the wind backs you simply move round; the Belle-Ile-en-Mer sailing guide has the rotation.
5. Houat and Hoedic beaches
These two low sandy islands out in the bay of Quiberon are essentially beaches with a village attached. On a still summer day the sand and water around them look tropical, and because anchoring is the main way to stay, the beaches stay quiet into the evening. Shelter is limited, so they are fair-weather destinations you fold into a south Brittany cruise. The Houat and Hoedic Morbihan islands notes cover where to drop the hook for each wind direction.
6. The Arcachon sandbanks and Cap Ferret point
Inside the Bassin d'Arcachon, the shifting sandbanks dry out at low water into vast pale flats that you can only reach by tender from an anchored boat, and the wild ocean side of the Cap Ferret peninsula hides surf beaches with no road access at the point itself. This is tricky water, with a shifting bar at the entrance and strong tidal streams inside, so it is a destination for crews who have read up first. The basin rewards the effort with beaches the campsite crowds never reach.
7. The Pointe d'Arcay and Aiguillon spits
At the head of the Pertuis Breton, long natural sand spits curl out into the bay, backed by salt marsh and bird reserves, with no public road to their tips. Anchor off in the shelter of the spit in settled weather and you land on sand that belongs more to the oystercatchers than to people. It is shallow, tidal and exposed if the wind gets up, so pick your day. Quiet in a way the resort beaches never manage.
8. Conche des Baleines, Ile de Re
The long wild beach at the western tip of the Ile de Re, under its tall lighthouse, runs for miles of open Atlantic sand backed by dunes and forest. It faces straight out to the ocean, so you cannot lie off it in anything but a flat calm, and the surf can build fast. But on a settled morning you can anchor off the northern end in the lee of the point, dinghy in, and walk a beach that the cycling crowds rarely reach this far up. Treat it as a reward for a perfect-weather day, not a plan. The island context is in Ile de Re by boat.
9. The beaches of Port-Cros
Across in the Mediterranean for one entry, because Port-Cros earns it. The national-park island off Hyeres has small clear-water beaches reachable by tender from the visitor moorings, with no roads and strict protection that keeps them pristine. Anchoring is heavily restricted to protect the seagrass, so you take a park buoy and behave. The reward is some of the cleanest swimming in France. The wider group is covered in Porquerolles and the Hyeres islands.
How to do a beach-anchoring day properly
The recurring theme is tide, and it deserves spelling out, because it is what catches visiting crews used to a smaller range. On this coast a beach that has three metres under you at high water can be drying sand a few hours later, and your dinghy can end up a long carry from the water's edge. Three habits keep beach days happy.
First, anchor for low water, not high. Work out the least depth you will have at the bottom of the tide and make sure that, plus your draught, plus a margin, still floats you. Second, take the dinghy in on a falling tide and you risk a long drag back down the beach; go in near low water and the walk only gets shorter. Third, watch the wind direction as much as the strength, because almost every beach here is sheltered from one quarter and a lee shore in another.
I keep my favourite beach anchorages saved in BoatMap with a note on which tide state works and which wind ruins them, so when a settled day appears I can pick the right beach in seconds rather than gambling on a name from a guidebook. Get the tide right and these are the days you remember from a whole season: your own stretch of empty Atlantic sand, the boat swinging quietly offshore, and not a windbreak in sight.
