​Sweeping blonde beaches, exceptional seafood and quaint towns make the Côte d’Opale in northern France the ideal spot to come together for a family break.

Nailing a multi-generational holiday abroad is not the kind of thing that can be left to chance. If you want it to be fun but not frazzled, lively but not exhausting, then a lot will ride on finding a destination that appeals to all ages – and that’s easy to get to. Our group is small but with two work-weary fortysomething parents, a six-year-old boy who will not be rushed, and a jet-lagged 71-year-old grandmother, fresh off a long-haul flight from Australia, getting everyone from A to B is a lot like herding kittens. So, my partner Anita and I decide to eschew airports and the usual hectic half-term exodus in favour of a short ferry crossing to the often passed-by Côte d’Opale – a 120km stretch of French coastline that runs south-west from Calais.

We leave London with plenty of time to check out Dover’s famous cliffs before boarding. But an unfortunate chaos-causing technical glitch at the French border control means we instead spend that time inching our car towards a crowded port packed with cranky travellers and bewildered staff. Watching my exhausted mum, Lesley, and son, Sidney, pick their way past rows of stalled campervans, cars and mini buses in search of the less-said-about-them-thebetter ‘facilities’, I worry we’ve made the wrong call. The one good thing about a delay like this, though, is that you get chatting to other passengers. That’s when we realise we’re mostly alone in our plan to stay in the northernmost part of France and not carry on down towards Paris and beyond – a perception that the region is all motorways and hypermarkets lingers. By the time we set sail, watching those white cliffs diminish to a distant dot, our hopes for a ‘get-away-from-thecrowds’ holiday are back, and we’re excited once again.

FRENCH CONNECTION

When we disembark at Calais, any nerves I harbour about driving a British car on the ‘wrong’ side of the road quickly disappear. The roads are wide, open and traffic-free – and not one person leans on their horn when we make yet another late lane change, or hesitate that bit too long at roundabouts.

We’re staying in the beachside resort of Camiers Sainte Cécile – an easy one-hour drive from the port of Calais – in Evancy Trésors d’Opale, a family-friendly complex that’s equidistant from a small high street lined with a clutch of casual restaurants, and the long stretch of sand at La Plage de Sainte Cécile. Everyone’s happy – Mum sits with a book on the private balcony overlooking a large pool while we head to the beach to stretch our legs after being cooped up in the car.

We follow a short road until the asphalt gives way to grass, the grass gives way to boardwalk, and the boardwalk gives way to soft sand, each step taking us further – literally and figuratively – from the ferry port fiasco of earlier. Sid whoops and whees as he runs down the dunes to the immense, uninterrupted sand flat that reveals itself at low tide. There’s enough of a breeze to blow the cobwebs away, but not enough to feel the sting of sand against skin, and we mostly have the place all to ourselves. There’s just the occasional sand yacht whizzing and zipping around us, and Sid spends hours running free and making patterns on the sandy canvas with clam shells.

Next day, we take the half-hour drive to Boulogne-sur-Mer, France’s biggest fishing port with its gorgeous walled old town and immaculately preserved Basilica of Notre Dame. The church’s 101-metre high dome is stunning, as is the main altar crafted from many different types of marble and stone. But the real gem – a sprawling restored crypt, one of the longest in France – lies beneath. Softly lit, packed with religious relics and priceless artefacts and adorned with hand-painted frescos, it seems like it’s going to be ‘one for the adults’. To everyone’s surprise, it’s pitched perfectly to kids – Sid is greeted warmly with a ‘treasure’ map of animals and mythical creatures to spot around the crypt. Watching him closely inspect communion chalices and the intricate carvings of a baptismal font before yelling, ‘Grandma, I’ve found another treasure’ and then adding the requisite sticker to his map, is a joy.

We emerge from the chilly crypt onto the sunshine-bathed cobbled Rue de Lille for lunch at La Grange de Monsieur Guy. It’s a world away from the traditional French bistros we pass on the way – there’s a microbrewery at the back, a lively atmosphere and a menu that feels exciting and fresh. After years of disappointing kids’ menus, we have zero expectations that the pour les petits lapins – a set menu for ‘little bunnies’ – will be any different. But Sid’s dos de cabillaud and riz croustillant – a fat, juicy loin of just-cooked cod and crispy rice – wouldn’t look out of place on an adult plate. The grown-ups share starters of salmon rillettes, houmous with horseradish and coriander oil, and homemade foccacia topped with more mortadella than we know what to do with. Mains are just as delicious – my poulet jaune is slow-cooked, crispyskinned and packed with flavour – and a lovely light cake topped with strawberries, white chocolate crème diplomat and a smattering of pollen is a dessert highlight.

After lunch, we head to the waterfront and Nausicaá, Europe’s largest aquarium. With so much more than just tanks of fish to look at, it appeals to everyone. The theatres and films keep Mum occupied, Sid marvels at neon jellyfish, giant manta rays and colourful tropical shoals, and we all get the giggles shuddering and shaking as we hold on tight on a ship storm simulator

DIVIDE AND CONQUER

On a multi-generation holiday, there’s no rule that everyone has to be together all of the time. Splintering off into different activities makes sense to us, so while Anita and Sid hang back for a beach day, Mum and I explore Le Touquet, an attractive seaside resort backed by forest that’s become so popular with Parisians it’s known as Le Touquet-Paris Plage – even Emmanuel Macron and his wife, Brigitte, have a pad there. Away from the chores and childcare that distract us at home, we stroll the historic seafront having a good old natter while admiring the beach huts that flank the boardwalk. Away from the water, we browse cute shops, stopping at La Manufacture biscuit factory for buttery morsels to take home.

Later, we have a seafood supper at local institution Chez Pérard. It’s only been six months since my dad – who couldn’t pass an oyster bar without going in – passed away, so it’s an emotional moment when we order une dégustation de nos différentes huîtres, a trio of French oysters, in his honour. They are fresh, briny and succulent, just as he would have liked them, with each variety seeming more delicious than the one before it. The mains that follow are a lesson in seafood simplicity – Mum’s monkfish with morels is distractingly good – and we end on a high with French dessert classics of crème brûlée and îles flottantes.

With its close proximity to Britain, it’s perhaps unsurprising that our last day is marked by grim skies and downpours. But when you have your own car, it doesn’t have to be a case of rain stopping play, so we drive inland to the small factory of local chocolatiers Beussent Lachelle. Our tour with Cecile is the right balance of fascinating facts and Wonkastyle demos that keeps everyone transfixed. Of course, we snap up loads of exquisite truffles and florentines in the shop on the way out – happy to not have to worry about baggage allowances. Rather than driving straight to the ferry, we spend time on the lively Calais seafront, tucking into hot, salty frites before riding the Calais Dragon. A colossal steel and carved wood behemoth that pours mist, spits fire and smoke, and sprays water as it rolls menacingly along the promenade, it’s a sight to behold. Whether you buy tickets to ride on its back, or stay on firm ground to admire it from afar, it’s a unique way to end the trip. Later, as I join my fellow travellers on the return ferry, I wonder how many of them have spent a day driving to get here. If only they knew that a crowd-free coastline with fun-for-all-the-family attractions and superb food was within striking distance of the port