Chasing Light and Altitude on the Train des Merveilles

The Vertical Escape

There is a specific kind of whiplash that happens in Nice. You start your morning with a croissant still warm from the oven, squinting against the relentless, buttery light reflecting off the Promenade des Anglais. Your skin is salty; the Mediterranean is a flat, turquoise sheet. Then, a few hours later, you are pulling a wool cardigan over your shoulders, staring out at sheer, limestone canyons that feel ancient, foreboding, and entirely removed from the glitz of the Riviera.

This is the alchemy of the Train des Merveilles—the Train of Marvels—a route that manages to compress an entire continent’s worth of scenery into a single morning. For years, this line felt like a local secret, a lifeline for mountain villagers that only the most curious travelers ever bothered to board. Following its full restoration and reopening, it feels less like a commute and more like a pilgrimage into the clouds.