PETER MAYLE put the Luberon firmly on the map with his blockbuster A Year in Provence, but there are corners of western Provence that still remain a French secret.

Farther to the south west is Les Alpilles, a wedge of weirdly jagged crests dappled with dozy villages. Brits hurtle through here, intent on getting to Les Baux, Arles and the coast without dallying, which is a shame, as they miss out on some delightful surprises.

We begin to experience the attractions of Les Alpilles as soon as we explore our villa, which is near Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. It’s a Provençal house with a pantiled roof, walls smothered with jasmine, and a large pool and garden.

When we throw back the blue shutters, the scent of pine and rosemary wafts in, and in the terracotta-tiled farmhouse kitchen we find a list of markets: Saint-Rémy on Wednesdays, Cavaillon for the Med’s best melons on Monday, Tarascon on Tuesdays and the triple whammy, the antiques, food and fleamarket held at L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue every Sunday.

On our first recce, Saint-Rémy appears to be a modest little town, its 14th-century walls protecting huddled medieval alleys crammed with art galleries, bars and restaurants where the plat du jour is herby soupe au pistou, or hefty daube de boeuf.

Wrapped round the town, a patchwork of lavender and sunflower fields and vineyards stretches as far as the bleached limestone hills of the Alpilles. Van Gogh did 150 paintings, mainly of local life and landscapes when he checked himself into the St Paul de Mausole asylum at Saint-Rémy in 1889. The hospital is still functioning, but much of the scenery around is unchanged.

Unlike the resorts of the Rivièra, Saint Rémy doesn’t flaunt its attractions and we had to search carefully under the lime trees shading the ring road, boulevard Victor Hugo, to find the gourmet chocolate shop, Joel Durand.

You buy Joel’s chocolates by number, the 32 subtle flavours ranging from lavender, olive and thyme, to chestnut, Earl Grey, cardamon and tiramisu. Everyone thought he was mad when he started distilling fresh herbs for his creations, he tells me; he is now acknowledged as one of the country’s top chocolatiers.

Next door at the Pâtisserie Le Petit Duc, proprietor Anne Daguin has orders from all over the world for her biscuits and jams made to ancient Provençal recipes. She discovered one in the local library under the heading Traite de Confitures, written in 1552 by a Saint-Rémy native, one Michel de Nostre-Dame, otherwise known as Nostradamus.

Outside Saint-Rémy, there is lots more to explore in Les Alpilles, as well as the lesser-known parts of the Luberon and the Vaucluse. Looming largest on our trail is Mont Ventoux, widely admired for its views over Provence, and roundly cursed by Tour de France cyclists who have to struggle up nearly 2,000 metres.

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The mountain is certainly no beauty spot, the terrain bleak, the summit crowned by ugly TV masts, the souvenir kiosks every bit as tatty as you might find in the UK.

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