Dune du Pilat, in France. Photo / Yu Wang
Melissa Nightingale took an excursion to the Dune du Pilat as part of a cruise on Uniworld's SS Bon Voyage in France
It takes a special kind of motivation to get up at 5am on any given day.
It's especially difficult when you're rolling out of a bed worth tens of thousands of dollars and leaving the comfort of your luxury cruise ship with the knowledge you'll soon be doing pre-dawn, pre-breakfast exercise.
Tummy rumbling and eyelids drooping, I cursed my past self for signing up for the sunrise hike up the Dune du Pilat, the tallest sand dune in Europe.
In a couple of hours, I'd instead be thanking my past self for signing up for such a spectacular experience.
Bleary-eyed and wrapped up warm - but not warm enough, as we'd discover - I and the rest of the excursion group clambered on to a bus from Bordeaux, France, to Arcachon Bay.
I was a little apprehensive. How hard would it be to climb? Had the last few days stuffing my face with every pudding I could find on the ship been perhaps a little unwise?
With 60,000,000 cubic metres of sand spread 500m wide and 2.7km long, 110m above sea level, it sounded like a lot of work.
Imagine my relief when, upon arrival, we discovered we didn't even have to climb from the bottom. Better yet, we weren't going to trudge up the dune with sand slipping away beneath our feet - a portable staircase had been wedged into the side.
After a short uphill stroll, the staircase was only about 150 steps in total, helping us work up a light sweat in our climb to the top.
The light sweat didn't last.
At the top of the dune the wind was bitingly cold. We had underestimated just how chilly an early April breeze from the Atlantic Ocean would be.
Towels provided by the cruise line, Uniworld, for us to sit on at the top were instead used as impromptu blankets, or wrapped around heads to stop the wind whistling in one ear and out the other.
Standing on the top of that dune waiting for the sun to rise, I was colder than I can ever remember being. Luckily, we had the view to distract us.
Endless ocean stretched out on one side, misty treetops on the other. A deep red glow hung above the horizon. We'd been told the sun would come up at 7.23am. Freezing, we waited.
And then it was there. Far off in the distance, a crimson orb sliding up above the trees.
It was stunning, and well worth the early start and the iceblock-hands.
The phones came out as everyone hastily tried to snap the perfect sunrise shot.
Within minutes it was in the air - another day had dawned in the southwest of France.
Tummies still rumbling but eyelids well and truly open now, we made our way down the other side of the dune.
Watched sunrise? Check. Next on the list: coffee.
