Some people travel thousands of miles – and spend thousands of pounds – to lie on an isolated stretch of sparkling sand.

Make the short hop to Corsica in September, however, and you’ll practically have the whole island to yourself.

While this rocky Gallic outpost is besieged by super-tanned and bejewelled Italians in high season, it’s a much more tempting escape later in the year.

The weather is still good – generally in the mid 20s – the beaches are empty and you don’t have to wait for a scoop of gelato or a cafe creme in any of its bars.

Perhaps best of all, you get a real sense of what it's like to live here – albeit with the luxury of being on holiday.

We set up camp for the week at Les Terrasses des Oliviers, one of a group of self-catering apartments tucked into the brush-covered hillside, near the town of Propriano on Corsica’s west coast.

After a two-hour drive in pouring rain from the nearest airport in Ajaccio, we were beginning to wonder if we had made the right decision by waiting for a late summer break.

But when we stepped on to the deck and the sun burst through the clouds, we both felt unbearably smug.

This pretty much set the tone for the rest of the week. After a run in the challenging hills nearby – actually, just running to the top of the driveway was exhausting enough – we would breakfast on the deck before forcing ourselves into action.

Corsica has a reputation for being expensive, but having a self-catering apartment makes it a reasonable option for self-sufficient holidaymakers and families.

Nearby Propriano throbs with activity in high season, but in September it’s much more relaxed. There’s not much in the way of shopping unless you are after ritzy French resort wear, but there are enough boulangeries, bars and banks to keep the casual stroller happy.

A bookshop on the main drag has international editions of English newspapers, while an Internet cafe further down the street keeps you connected to the web for a couple of Euros an hour.

More serious holiday essentials – including all-important beach towels and other kit – are available in the two sizeable supermarkets on the outskirts of town. Make sure you stock up on the local Pietra beer,brewed from chestnut flour, and the lethal Cap Corse liqueur.

While Propriano has its fair share of restaurants, pizzerias and bars overlooking the marina, most of the time we dined chez nous on the deck as the lights of the town sparkled in the distance.

Later we would lie on the sunloungers, counting the stars and watching electrical storms light up the sky in the distance.

By day, there are dozens of beaches to explore, some more populated than others. My favourite turned out to be the closest – the Plage De Campitellu between the forbidding Tour de Calanca and Capicciolo.

A cluster of motorhomes gather at the end nearest the road, but walk a couple of hundred metres down the beach and it’s possible to find your own private cove.

A pizzeria at the roadside end will keep you fed and watered if you forget your own picnic.

Continue in the same direction and you eventually come to the fishing village of Porto-Pollo, which has a little more in the way of convenience stores and restaurants, but remains very quiet.

If this sounds all too isolated, then rest assured that there is plenty of action elsewhere.

A visit to Bonifacio, which Homer described as “an excellent harbour” in The Odyssey, is a must, even if the relative crowds are a shock to the system after so much solitude.

Finding a car park may feel like one of Odysseus’s tasks (don’t be swayed by the ferry tour touts offering free car parks in the lower town – head for the Haute Ville and you’ll save money as well as your legs), but once you abandon your wheels you can lose yourself in the cobbled streets.

Bonifacio may feel like a tourist trap after the isolated beaches of the west coast, but there are plenty of places where you can leave the coach parties behind.

Perhaps the best real estate is occupied by the Cimietiere Marin (sailors’ cemetery), where dozens of Corsican families are entombed in room-size mausoleums. It’s a great place to explore, though it’s hard not to feel that the views of nearby Sardinia are wasted on the dead.

Cafes, bars and gelato kiosks abound, interspersed with souvenir shops and places selling overpriced art.

It’s busy, but Bonifacio retains a sleepy, summer afternoon feel all the same. Most intriguing are the vast empty buildings now belonging to the government. If they were anywhere else, these imposing places would have been turned into hotels or luxury apartments – it might be a waste but no-one seems very concerned.

On the drive back to Propriano, make sure you stop at the beach on the Golfe de Roccapina. There’s no signpost and the gravel road is narrow in parts, but it’s worth the leap of faith.

I would like to say that no one else has discovered this sheltered little gem, but we were surprised to find it thronged with sun worshippers.

If you get sick of staring out to sea and imagining phoning your boss to say you're not coming back, there are plenty of great people-watching opportunities. Young, old, fat and thin – this beach is very democratic.

Even so, it didn’t beat having vast swathes of golden sand to ourselves just five minutes from our temporary home. If we can’t live there, I think we’ll have to make an annual pilgrimage.

I won’t even mind if I see you there in September. I think there’s room enough for all of us.