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| La Roque-Gageac on the bright summer day we were there |
The 'most visited' title is the claim that our tour guide, on board the Norbert, made about La Roque-Gageac.
(Roque translates to castling in English which means eagerness or interest - new word for me) He backed it up with an impressive list of statistics that my type of brain does not slot into long term memory. The 'beautiful village' title is an official term -
"There are 152 "Les plus beaux villages de France" ten of which are found in the Dordogne - more than any other department in France."
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| The very young Chateau at a turn of the Dordogné |
We watched 100's of families hiring their canoes from the Dordogne River on the outskirts of Cénac as we drove across the bridge and around into the village. They had opened up a small parcel of land (not a lot along the cliff face) for extra parking so we were lucky to find one quickly. We paid €3 for the privilege of leaving the van there until the park closed at 5pm.
At the end of the road was a large - very romantic looking Chateau which we thought may be open for a visit but up close there were many 'Rester en dehors' (keep out) and 'La propriété privée' (private property) signs. We discovered that it had only been built in the early 1900's, which for this land of antiquity was a baby. The original family still resided there and must have been sick of tourists assuming that it was just another excuse for a gift store. It was disappointing to think that the most striking building of the village had never seen the viking boats navigating up the Dordogné to pillage the town of wine, fish and fair maidens. Its occupants never needed to flee to the ancient fort built into the strange crevices of the rock mantels above for protection from the Romans or the English. Even the steam railways had made it to the valley before it was built so the Gabares plying their trade was never a daily sight for the family's ancestors. In this isolated corner of France that was so fought over in the middle ages, it missed any action in the world wars. Hopefully it will continue to exist without trial or tribulation for centuries to come. Having the building still owned by the builder's family in a land where anyone of wealth and of ancient name were murdered, during the revolution, is perhaps original enough for fame.
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| The cliff fort and blocked stair access. Nets at the bottom to catch debris. |
The mean grownups had voted the two kids out and so instead of canoeing we booked tickets on the Les Gabares Norbert. This is a replica of the traditional flat bottom boats that used to be used to transport wood, cheese and wine down stream and carry salt, fish and wheat back up - unless you were coming from right at the top of the river where dangerous narrow passes and enough water for only 3 months during the year made it possible to get through. If you were one of these unlucky guys your boat was broken up and sold - the chestnut wood for vineyard stakes and the oak for the barrels to hold the wine, it meant a long walk back up the river.
If you are pushed for time I would suggest booking ahead via their website - http://www.norbert.fr or by phone(05 53 29 40 44) They have two boats and each trip is around an hour, one leaves every 30mins. The girls were so pleased
that an audio guide in English of the French tour guide's palava was provided upon boarding (an unnatural hatred of them has been developed throughout our travels - may have something to do with how slow they are or maybe the hair mussing?). He excitedly shared that his daughter was loving her adventure working in Wellington, NZ, when he heard where Granny and Gramps were from.
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| The second boat as we crossed paths, adding excitement to the canoeists when the double wakes met. |
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| Nobbing stick Huck Finn style |
To fill the time until our tour we wandered down the one main street visiting the interesting little stores hidden behind ancient facades. We took lots of photos and settled in for a lovely lazy lunch with views down the river. M was very pleased to find the perfect hiking staff which was soon christened the 'Nobbing stick' - anyone who annoyed him from then on was referred to as needing a good nobbing. Petal was keen to look after it suggesting that he needed his hands free for the camera, she was very pleased with herself for earning brownie points, removing any possibility of 'getting a nobbing' and perhaps arranging one for Willow. Gramps purchased an Opinel knife as his French souvenir, a bargain as they are a third of the price in their homeland as anywhere else. I was rapt to find black truffle risotto ready to make but was alerted to a weavilling around in the bottom of the packet by sharp eyed Petal. When I went back to the store the poor French lady was very red faced and quickly replaced it with the non live protein version. I also got some truffle salt which makes the breakfast mushrooms zing. Granny and I were admiring some water colour postcards then discovered the artist himself in his own little gallery just down the sidewalk. Beautiful artwork at very reasonable prices. Willow tried on some lovely floaty tops and dresses at another interesting store but decided she wasn't quite ready to go 60s bohemian.
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| Lapping up the sun behind the Norbert ticket booth |
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| Ducks and Geese everywhere |
There were lots of brands of Foi gras for sale and more restaurants and ice cream stores than I have ever seen in such a short length of commerce (Honfleur was to smash this record on our last day in France).
As we sat at the outdoor tables of a Pizzeria - I know it's France but they are just everywhere - a handsome young waiter passed around the menus. When he came back to get our drink orders he had fixed on his face the sufficiently bored 'I know not what you say' look as M's bilingual fervour kicked in and Petal asked tricky questions about an interesting sounding drink she had spotted. But when Willow explained what they meant and ordered hers too in French his eyes lit up and he treated us with kindly condensation for the rest of the meal. A little joke, a little wink, nothing was too difficult. Just after repeating our desert order back in English far superior to my French, he left our table with a smile.
(Ask one of us about the ice cream debacle and Granny's amazing invention of a new iterlinguist language that no one knows but all can interpret - I fear it may be genetic.) As he left a poor exhausted tourist - wet and muddy from her family trip down the river in a canoe - threw out her arm and hyper pronounced "Hi can we have a table for five for lunch?" The waiter replied with a shrug and a slicing/blocking hand movement saying "No English - No English" without slowing his pace. Petal's Mango sorbet and Willow's coconut sorbet were amazing but the mint had so much essence in it the van could have run on it for a few days. Granny and Gramp's single bowl with two scoops of rum and raisin was a disappointment from more than a new language failure point of view, it was rum soaked raisins in vanilla ice cream and according to their disappointment, didn't make the list of best tastes in the Perigord.
Giovanni Tardieu lived in the house left in the photo below. As a prestigious scholar and philosopher, he was given charge of the village's souls as curé de la paroisse. The church to the right. His close Italian family connections lead to friendship with Galileo Galelei. After meeting up with him in Florence Galileo gave him one of his precious telescopes. M.Tardieu proudly set this up in the turret of his home and watched the stars. He became convinced of Galileo's solar system theory but was forced to recant in the face of the Roman Catholic Church's displeasure. It is said that Tardieu's gift from Galileo was the first telescope in France.
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| Photo taken from the 'Norbert'. Most of the canoes pull in here and are loaded into van and onto trailer to be whizzed back to Cénac by road. The brick arch bridge is the common type to cross the Dordogné. The Chateau on the ridge is 'Castelnaud' - now a medieval war museum that you can visit in my next blog. |
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| Geraniums and ivy soften the stone |
The bright baskets of flowers, ivy covered towers and streaks of the
tropical garden that grows so well in the warmth and shelter of the rocky
cliffs showing above the roof line, the sparkling river covered with patches of
bright canoes like an impressionist painting, the warm sun, full tummies and
laughter have made my memories of this place fit with its official title.
La Roque-Gageac, beautiful village.
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Water colours by Patrick Mignard. He runs internships (week long painting retreats) in the area, has a gallery in Sarlat but we were lucky enough to find him at teh back of his little store here - framing up more prints for sale.
This image is from his website - http://aquarellemignard.blogspot.co.uk/ It is of a Perigord cabine - the original hobbit house?
Many of his landscapes of the region have been made into postcards, we saw them for sale in many different places.
The painting below is more of Mignard's work, painted at La Rochelle. A beautiful piece I think. |
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