The Castle Hill That Has No Castle

Monument aux Morts de Rauba-Capeù

The colossal war memorial carved into the quarry face, where the wind is strong enough to earn the name Rauba-Capeù, steal-cap.

You are standing at the foot of Castle Hill, facing a monument that looks like it was cleft from the rock itself. It sort of was. This 32-metre cenotaph, completed in 1928, fills the hollow of an old stone quarry. The architect Roger Séassal, a Niçois who won the Grand Prix de Rome, set it here deliberately, at the base of what locals call the sacred rock.

The wind that funnels through this notch in the hillside is famous: Rauba-Capeù means steal-cap in the Niçois dialect, and on a blustery day you will understand why. The urn at the centre holds around two thousand bronze plaques, each one representing a soldier from Nice who died in the First World War. Nearly four thousand names are inscribed on the wall below. The five steps leading up to the niche stand for the five years of that war.

This is where the climb begins. There is a free lift around the corner if you prefer, or you can take the steps. About ten minutes to the top.

Colline du Château

The hilltop park where a citadel stood for seven centuries before Louis XIV razed it in 1706. Now the best panorama in Nice.

You are standing 92 metres above the sea on the ground where Nice began. Greek traders from Massalia settled this limestone outcrop in the 4th century BC and called it Nikaia. A medieval castle grew here, then a massive citadel with walls thick enough to shrug off cannon fire. It resisted a Franco-Turkish siege in 1543.

The washerwoman Catherine Ségurane became a local legend here, supposedly driving back an attacker with her laundry bat. But in 1705, Louis XIV's troops finally took it. The king, fearing rebellion, ordered the entire citadel dismantled stone by stone in 1706. Nothing above ground remains.

In 1822, the city turned the hill into a public garden. The pines and carobs you are walking among were planted then. Walk to the belvedere. To the west, the Baie des Anges stretches to the horizon.

Below you, the red tile rooftops of Vieux Nice press together like scales on a fish. Turn east and you see Port Lympia, your destination. This view has not changed much since the first postcards were printed.