Forty-four nautical miles. That is the short way from Monaco to Saint-Tropez, hugging the points, and you could motor it in a single long day if all you wanted was to say you had done it. I have done it that way once, arrived shattered, and regretted skipping everything in between. The coast between the two most photographed harbours in the Mediterranean is the best cruising ground on the whole Riviera, and it deserves four days, not one.
What follows is the way I actually sail it: short hops, deep anchorages, one or two real harbour nights for a restaurant and a shower. Distances are coastal, the way you really go, so they run a little longer than the rhumb line.
Day one: Monaco to Villefranche, about 6 miles
Leaving Monaco is a study in contrasts. You slip out past more horsepower than the rest of the coast combined, round Cap d'Ail, and within an hour you are in one of the deepest natural harbours in the Mediterranean, the Rade de Villefranche, where the seabed drops to 95 metres just offshore and an undersea canyon plunges to over 500 metres a mile out.
It is a short first day on purpose. Shake the crew down, check the gear works, and anchor off the old town on sand in 8 to 12 metres, keeping clear of the dark posidonia beds that the authorities now protect seriously. The rade gives good shelter from the east, though a deep berth in heavy weather rolls because the headlands wrap the swell around. In settled summer it is idyllic, the citadel above you and waterfront bistros a dinghy ride away. I treat Villefranche as base camp for the eastern coast and have written it up properly alongside the other deep bays in my guide to anchoring at Cap Ferrat and Villefranche.
Day two: Villefranche to the Lerins islands, about 18 miles
This is the day the coast opens out. You round Cap Ferrat, cross the Baie des Anges off Nice and Antibes, and the mountains pull back to leave you the wide bay before Cannes. Antibes Port Vauban, the largest marina in Europe, sits to port if you want fuel or a chandler; otherwise carry on.
The reward is the Iles de Lerins, two miles off Cannes. Anchor in the channel between Sainte-Marguerite and Saint-Honorat, on sand, in 5 to 10 metres. It is one of the few places on this coast where you can swim off the boat in clear water with a forested island either side and the city skyline safely across the water. The catch is August: the anchorage is popular and the holding patchy where the seagrass starts, so arrive early and check your set. If the islands are full, Cannes itself has two yachting harbours, but its berths are among the most competitive in Europe, which is exactly the August problem I unpacked in the Riviera berth survival guide.
Day three: Lerins to the Gulf of Saint-Tropez, about 22 miles
The longest leg, and the one that feels most like real sailing. From the Lerins you head south-west across the open water towards the Esterel, the red volcanic coast that is the prettiest stretch of the whole cruise. The cliffs glow at the end of the day, and the small calanques along the Esterel between Cannes and Saint-Raphael give lunch stops if the wind is kind.
Round Cap Camarat, the headland that guards the Gulf of Saint-Tropez, and the bay opens before you. This is where I make a decision every year. Push on into Saint-Tropez itself, or anchor in the gulf and visit by dinghy? The gulf has good anchorages off Pampelonne and in the lee of the points, sand in 4 to 8 metres, free, and a short hop from the town quay. Given that the Vieux Port charges around 171 euros a night for a 10 metre boat in high season, and well over 200 for a 12 metre one, the anchor wins most evenings. I covered exactly that arithmetic in my breakdown of what a Riviera berth really costs.
Day four: into Saint-Tropez, the short last mile
Save the harbour itself for last. There is something to be said for arriving in Saint-Tropez on a calm morning, picking up a berth in the Vieux Port stern-to with the cafes a few metres away, and spending the money on one good night rather than four mediocre ones.
Book it ahead through the port's online system; in high season, from May to the Voiles regatta in late September, walking in cold rarely works. Med-mooring stern-to onto a lazy line is the local technique, and if you have only ever berthed alongside in a tidal harbour, practise it somewhere quieter first. The quay is exposed to wash from the constant traffic, so spring lines and good fenders earn their keep.
How the weather rewrites the plan
Everything above assumes settled summer weather, which the eastern Riviera mostly delivers in July and August. The wind that matters here is the local sea breeze, building through the afternoon and dying at dusk, ideal for short hops if you time them right. Leave early, anchor by lunch, and you sail in the best of the day.
The exception is when a mistral or an easterly gale is forecast. The eastern bays that are blissful in calm turn rolly, and the open legs become a slog. With this little coastal distance you can almost always find shelter, but plan to be in or near a real harbour when a blow is on the cards rather than caught in an exposed anchorage at dusk. If you intend to carry on west past Saint-Tropez towards the Camargue, the weather discipline steps up sharply, and I would not attempt the Gulf of Lion crossing without reading that piece first.
What to carry and check before you leave Monaco
This is a benign coast in settled summer, but it is not a forgiving one if you arrive unprepared. The harbours are busy, the anchorages are deep, and the bottom is a patchwork of sand and protected seagrass that you must read rather than guess. Three things earn their place aboard for this cruise.
Plenty of chain. The bays here are deep, and a comfortable night off Villefranche or the Lerins means laying out four or five times the depth, which in 10 metres of water is a lot of chain. A short scope that works in a shallow Solent anchorage will drag you onto a neighbour here.
A clear-water habit. The water is transparent enough to see the bottom on a bright day, so dive or look down on your anchor before you trust it. The single most common mistake I see is a skipper who drops on what looks like sand and is actually a thin skin over rock or seagrass, sets nothing, and discovers it at two in the morning.
The local forecast. The sea breeze that powers your short hops also tells you when to move. A settled evening forecast usually means a calm night; any hint of the wind backing south or east is the cue to take a berth rather than an exposed bay.
The distances at a glance
For planning, the coastal legs run roughly: Monaco to Villefranche, 6 miles; Villefranche to the Lerins islands, 18 miles; the Lerins to the Gulf of Saint-Tropez, 22 miles; and the short final mile into the Vieux Port. That totals around 46 coastal miles against the 44 mile rhumb line, the small difference being the points you round rather than cut.
Broken this way, no single day is taxing. Each leg leaves time for a swim and a lunch stop, and each ends somewhere you would happily spend a night. That is the whole argument for four days over one: the same distance, but the coast becomes the point rather than the obstacle.
The version I would recommend
Four days, three anchor nights, one harbour night in Saint-Tropez at the end. Roughly 46 coastal miles broken into legs of 6, 18 and 22, none of them taxing, all of them with a swim and a lunch stop built in. Total marina spend: one night, not four.
You can do Monaco to Saint-Tropez in a day. You should do it in four. The harbours at each end are the bookends; the deep bays, the red Esterel and the clear water off the Lerins are the actual book.
