I have swung to anchor in a lot of places since we first brought the boat across the Channel, and I will happily argue about this list in any harbour bar that will have me. Beautiful is not the same as comfortable, and the two rarely arrive together. The bays below earn their place on looks first, but I have given you the holding, the depth and the wind that ruins each one, because a stunning anchorage you cannot sleep in is just a photo stop.
This is my ranking, not a committee's. Disagree freely.
1. La Chambre, Glenan archipelago
Nothing else in France looks quite like this. The Glenan islands sit roughly 10 nautical miles south of Concarneau, and at their centre is La Chambre, a turquoise lagoon held between Saint-Nicolas, Bananec and Fort Cigogne that genuinely reads as Caribbean on a sunny day. You anchor in clear water over sand in two to four metres at the right state of tide, and the holding is good once you are clear of the weed.
The catch is twofold. The passes in are reef-strewn and want care, and the whole archipelago is exposed once the wind goes round to the south. Settle in for a flat northerly night and you will not forget it. The full rundown on the Glenan archipelago anchorage is worth reading before you commit, because pilotage here is the price of admission. We arrived on a half-flood with the light behind us and could read the sand from the bow; an hour later the colour had gone and I would not have wanted to find the gap without it.
2. Rondinara, southern Corsica
A near-perfect circular bay between Bonifacio and Porto-Vecchio, almost closed by two headlands, with white sand and water that shades from jade to deep blue. It shelters from most of the summer sea breeze and the holding in sand is reliable. August fills it solid, so arrive early or come in the shoulder weeks. Our notes on the Rondinara southern anchorages cover where the sand patches actually are, because the seagrass dictates everything.
3. The calanques near Marseille
En-Vau is the famous one, a narrow fjord-like creek with limestone walls rising to around 150 metres. Motorboats are not allowed inside without a permit and the Calanques National Park caps numbers, so the experience is more anchor-off-and-dinghy-in than tuck-up-for-the-night. The holding off the entrance can be patchy and a southerly sends swell straight in, so I treat En-Vau as a daytime jewel and sleep elsewhere. The wider picture is in our guide to the calanques of Marseille and Cassis by boat.
4. Les Grands Sables, Belle-Ile
The east coast of Belle-Ile gives you a long curve of pale sand with good holding, sheltered from the prevailing westerlies. It is the kind of place you stop for lunch and stay two nights. Belle-Ile has nine recognised anchoring spots dotted round the island, which means you can almost always find a lee. See the Belle-Ile-en-Mer sailing guide for the rotation as the wind backs and veers.
5. Sauzon, Belle-Ile
Cheating slightly, because half of Sauzon is a drying harbour. But the anchorage off the entrance, roughly 50 visitor spots from the last buoy line in, is one of the prettiest spots to wake up in northern Brittany. A pastel fishing village, a tidal river behind it, and on a still morning the reflection is the whole reason you bought a boat. The front port keeps 40 visitor places for monohulls up to 12.5 metres, so if the anchorage fills you have a fallback ashore. I have woken here to absolute stillness and the smell of someone's coffee carrying across the water, which is worth more to me than any marina shore power.
6. Porquerolles, north coast
White-sand bays, vineyards behind, and a Mediterranean island that empties of day-trippers the moment the last ferry leaves. The classic anchorage off La Courtade and Notre-Dame holds well in sand. The villain is the Mistral, which turns the whole north shore into a lee shore with little warning, and the seagrass rules are strict: boats over 24 metres are banned from anchoring over the meadows, with fines that have reached 150,000 euros. Anchor on the sand patches, read the Porquerolles and the Hyeres islands notes, and have a bolt-hole ready.
7. Anse de Saint-Nicolas, Glenan
A second Glenan entry, unapologetically. Saint-Nicolas is the only island you can land on freely, and the anchorage off its beach is shallow, bright and busy in season. Tucked behind the right islet it gives more shelter than La Chambre proper. If you want the lagoon to yourself, this is the consolation prize that turns out to be the main event. There is a sailing school here, so expect dinghies criss-crossing your swinging circle through the afternoon, then a sudden emptiness around six when the last day-boats leave and the place is yours.
8. Lerins islands, off Cannes
Sainte-Marguerite and Saint-Honorat lie a short hop from one of the busiest coastlines in Europe, yet drop the hook in the channel between them and the world goes quiet. Pine-covered, monastery on one, fort on the other, and water clear enough to see your chain. Holding is variable over weed, so dive the anchor. The Lerins islands anchorage near Cannes piece explains where the sand actually is.
9. Plage des Saumonards, Oleron
Different in character entirely: a tidal Atlantic anchorage rather than a Mediterranean cove. Several kilometres of fine sand backed by pine forest, sheltered inside the Pertuis d'Antioche so the water is calmer than Oleron's open western beaches, and Fort Boyard sitting out in the channel for scenery. There are no facilities, just sand and pines. Watch the tidal range and your swinging room; the Atlantic anchorages from La Rochelle to the Gironde will keep you off the bottom.
10. Lavezzi islands, Bouches de Bonifacio
Granite boulders, water the colour of a swimming pool, and a strait that demands respect. The Lavezzi sit in a nature reserve in the Bouches de Bonifacio between Corsica and Sardinia, the gap is around 7 nautical miles wide, and the tide and wind funnel through. The moorings and sand pockets are beautiful in settled weather and untenable in anything strong from the south. This is the one I would sail furthest to reach. Pick up a park buoy rather than dropping the hook over the protected seabed, and treat the forecast as gospel: there is no good shelter close by if the wind builds, and the strait is no place to be caught underpowered in a blow.
How I would actually use this list
Beauty rankings are a parlour game. The real skill is matching the anchorage to the forecast, then having a second choice for when the wind shifts at two in the morning. Every bay here has a wind direction that ruins it, and a sister anchorage nearby that saves the night.
Two practical habits. First, dive on the anchor in clear Mediterranean water; the holding ranking above means nothing if your flukes are sitting on a weed mat. Second, in the protected zones (the calanques park, the Hyeres islands, the Lavezzi reserve) check the current rules before you arrive, because France keeps tightening them and the fines are not symbolic.
I keep all of these saved as favourites in BoatMap, with my own notes on which way each one opens to the swell. When the forecast turns, I would rather scroll my own ranked list than start guessing in the dark.
