Bay City Rivieras : <i> San Francisco rises on the horizon like the skyline in an artist’s canvas, providing a backdrop for Sausalito at the tip of Marin County peninsula north across the bay.</i>

If one is to choose a particular day to be in Sausalito it should be Sunday, when brunch is served on the terrace of the venerable Alta Mira Hotel with its stunning view of San Francisco Bay. While guests sip ramos fizzes and Bloody Marys, gulls wheel lazily over Angel Island and ocean liners pass gracefully beneath San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge.

Hotelier Walter Wachter describes it as the most beautiful view in the world.

Few guests would disagree, particularly those with romance in the soul. And should the sun be shining it is all the better, what with San Francisco rising on the horizon like the skyline in an artist’s canvas.

Such is the setting at the Alta Mira, which has provided shelter for visitors since the late ‘20s. As a result, there is little reason to run off to the French or Italian rivieras. Not when the siren song of romance is played out against this bay with its sailboats and homes that perch precariously on hills green with wild grass and eucalyptus.

Besides, being only a 20-minute boat ride from San Francisco, Sausalito is far easier to reach than St. Tropez, Cannes, Cap Ferrat or Portofino. Without argument, it is every bit as captivating, with its park and marina and sailboats that lean in breezes that blow in through the Golden Gate.

Sausalito shines with a continental elegance.

Consider Casa Madrona, which clings to the hillside just below the Alta Mira. Sheltered by trees and perfumed by a magnificent garden, it provides a view that stirs the soul. Over the years Casa Madrona has attracted a series of proprietors, including the old Frenchman, Robert Henri Deschamps, who during World War II distinguished himself in the French underground.

With loving care, M. Deschamps transformed Casa Madrona into a French country inn of repute, performing as the concierge, the gardener and the handyman, while his wife, Marie-Louise, and daughter, Marie-France, helped him strike new warmth into the old inn.

Only a few years ago attorney John Mays refurbished the old home and spread a new addition down the hillside to a point where the inn now meets Bridgeway, the thoroughfare that runs through Sausalito with its fashionable boutiques and snug waterfront restaurants.

The new Casa features 17 New England-style units that appear like transplants from coastal Maine. There is Chateau Charmont with its canopied bed, and the Artist’s Loft with its fireplace and sun deck, and Lord Ashley’s Lookout with its sweeping view of San Francisco Bay. La Belle Provence is a two-room suite with a balcony and French country decor.

The new addition is a combination of gables and sun porches that provide a sensational view of San Francisco poking out of the mists on one of those gray afternoons the Bay Area is famous for. When a chill fills the air, fires crackle pleasantly and room service delivers steaming mugs of coffee.

Still, I favor the Casa’s older country inn perched just above the new addition, the old inn that M. Deschamps rewired and replumbed with such Gallic devotion. A 19th-Century armoire and a Jacuzzi occupy the La Salle Room. A free-standing bathtub for two distinguishes the Belle Vista suite with its eye on the bay. Other guests seek shelter in the Wicker Room with its raised bathtub. There’s Grandma’s Room and the Fireside Room and the Mariner with its brass bed and a vista of the harbor. Banks of flowers perfume the brick walk that leads downhill to the village.

In keeping with the French theme of this country inn, the restaurant at Casa Madrona was named La Vivoir in the beginning. But for reasons known only to the new proprietor, he calls it simply the Casa Madrona restaurant. Whatever the name, it continues to attract the discriminating diner.

Guests gather in a cheery bar and take their meals in a dining room with windows on the world and the haunting melodies of harpist-pianist Paul Hurst, whose strings stir the spirit with such themes as “Chariots of Fire” and “A Time for Us.” It is worth the visit if only to be entertained by this immensely talented musician. (His romantic melodies earn Hurst five hearts: .)

Diners choose a chilled shellfish with avocado cream, a scallops and lobster tart, roast game pate, tortellini with sea bass, game hen stuffed with Chevre, and grilled yellowfin with a mango-cucumber salsa.

Below, by the waterfront and the San Francisco ferry landing, other visitors bid for rooms at the European-style Sausalito Hotel with its museum-quality Victorian antiques. Guests snooze in the Queen Victoria Room and luxuriate in General Grant’s fine old bed in the Marquis de Queensbury Room with its crackling fireplace.

The entire hotel comes off as one huge antique, each of its 15 rooms eliciting thoughts of an earlier century. Others take shelter in rooms named for Lord Popeel, Princess Beatrice, Lady Hastings, Prince Arthur and the Prince of Wales. Whatever the choice, one checks in at the Sausalito Hotel to discover surcease from our frantic world.

Before the creation of the Golden Gate the hotel was the terminus for ferries steaming over from San Francisco. Later, with the opening of the bridge, ferry service was suspended. Now with peak-hour traffic a nightmare, the ferries run again. At dusk, servants hurry from hilltop homes to the landing near the old Sausalito Hotel. While deckhands secure ropes, husbands and working wives in tailored finery step into the waiting cars, away from the city, away from the crowds.

Residents and vacationers stop off for dinner at Ondine’s (TWO STARS) and Scoma’s (THREE STARS) with their breathtaking views of San Francisco’s twinkling lights. Later they drop by Paterson’s Pub with its roaring fire. And there’s the No Name Bar with jazz groups that perform on Friday and Saturday nights.

By day, Sausalito’s crowds look in on galleries and shops, a favorite haunt being the Village Fair, a triple-decker cluster of 40 shops a few steps from Casa Madrona.

Others do tours to Stinson Beach and that other riviera-like village, Tiburon, with its fields and hillsides woven with acacia and lilac. Eucalyptus trees spread their shade and homes and condos crowd the hills and peaceful bluffs of both Tiburon and nearby Belvedere Island.

As proof that Tiburon has heart, years ago locals created a monument to the memory of an old cavalry horse that grazed in these pastures. His name was Blackie and where the animal is buried a marker reads: “A perpetual memorial to a horse loved by children and adults alike.” To this day the grave remains an attraction, with fresh flowers still spread by caring residents.

Streets that roam Tiburon are named Heathcliff and Sugar Loaf and Paradise. Paradise meanders among hills and valleys, and drops away to deserted coves and peaceful retreats hidden in the woods.

Hills rising behind Tiburon turn green in springtime and golden in summer. On one of these hills rises St. Hillary’s, an abandoned house of worship in which seamen once confessed their sins.

Earlier, cattle grazed here and deer ran wild. Now their places are taken by homes and condos, although an occasional deer is still seen.

Earlier in Tiburon, fishermen took cod from the bay. The houseboats in which they lived have been converted into homes, and other dwellings stand on stilts over the bay.

Like San Francisco, Tiburon has its own Fisherman’s Wharf. Only it is smaller, with narrow streets. It exudes a warm invitation that bids the visitor to take a table on one of the restaurant decks lining Main Street. Sometimes the fog rolls in, obscuring the Golden Gate and leaving the illusion that the skyline of San Francisco is floating in mist.

Although sophisticated, Tiburon provides a small-town flavor that spills over into the small boutiques and restaurants that line block-long Main Street. At Christopher’s the menu lists fisherman’s stew, Maine lobster, shark with peppercorn, red snapper baked in parchment and coho salmon stuffed with pears, whiskey and molasses. The menu changes monthly, as does the wine list.

At other restaurants, huge kettles bubble with cioppino and orders are taken for mussels, cherrystone and Ipswich clams, bluepoint oysters, Maryland soft-shelled crab, Morro Bay abalone, Bodega Bay shrimp, octopus, crayfish, finnan haddie and lobster tails from Australia.

No restaurant in Tiburon, though, can match The Caprice, which occupies an old bay-side home with a fireplace and windows that frame Angel Island, the Golden Gate Bridge and the lights of San Francisco at night.

As Tiburon’s finest restaurant, The Caprice is likewise its most romantic dining spot (FIVE STARS). Proprietor Kirby Atterbury, who resembles Ernest Hemingway, created The Caprice with his wife, Renee, and the couple’s eight daughters, converting the old home at Point Tiburon.

Its menu is a poem: moussaka, veal sweetbreads, roast duckling, fresh salmon, prawns and shrimp in a creamy mustard sauce, seafood curry, and a Mediterranean salad featuring Romaine lettuce, feta cheese, grapes and pine nuts. For Sunday brunch the chef turns out Belgian waffles with fresh strawberries, eggs poached with lemon hollandaise and spinach in brioche cups, cheese blintzes and a grilled chicken salad with pears and honey-lime vinaigrette.

It is the setting, though, that inspires one to return. Especially on a stormy evening when angry waters slam against the building and foghorns sound their mournful wail--and a fire burns cheerily . . . just inside the door. On other evenings, with the lights of San Francisco flashing across the bay, the night bids couples to rendevous and to remember--for such moments might never come again. . . .

Alta Mira, 125 Bulkley Ave., Sausalito 94966; (415) 332-1350. Rates: $65/$145.

Casa Madrona, 801 Bridgeway, Sausalito 94965; (415) 332-0502. Rates: $80/$175.

Sausalito Hotel, 16 El Portal, Sausalito 94965; (415) 332-4155. Rates: $65/$150.

The Caprice restaurant, 2000 Paradise Drive, Tiburon 94920; (415) 435-3400. Moderately expensive.